#i even wore my fancy earrings for once (it was a special occasion!!!)

[dreamspring]

i saw medea performed live tonight !!!! it was so fun !!!!

[gold-rhine]

First time sub afab! Character x GN Dom! Reader

Characters: Kaeya, Ayato, Diluc, Gorou

A\N: Repost bc my previous blog got shadowbanned. I generally don’t do specific scenario requests, but you’re in luck, bc Ayato and Kaeya parts fully formed in my head the moment I read your ask, and then I got an interesting visual for Diluc, to congratulate him for coming out as a kinky goth. I added Gorou bc you asked, but don’t really like how it turned out tbh, but I hope you’ll enjoy somewhat.

Warnings: nsfw, fingering, slight degradation (name calling), nipple play, praise kink, overstimulation, oral (character receiving), cock stands for cock\strap (only relevant for Kaeya’s part, bc of shameless favoritism he gets twice the content)

Wordcount: 5,5k

Diluc

His lips are eager when you kiss him, but he's a little tense in your arms. He tries to hide nervousness, keeping up his usual confident demeanor, unbuttoning his cravat and vest with brisk efficiency, but his fingers are a little stiff and his cheeks are pink.

A bit of anxiety is normal for his first time, but you start getting concerned when you get to his shirt and he tenses even more, his movements becoming wooden. This is not a spontaneous decision for him, he clearly planned this evening for some time - he spent his birthday collecting fresh valberries in the mountains, made a special dinner for the two of you and after it pulled you into his bedroom, crimson eyes intense and excited. But even so, something might be wrong and you know he’s the type of stubbornly proud to keep quiet even if he becomes uncomfortable, so you gently cup his blushing cheek.

“Hey, is everything alright? You know we can wait, don’t force yourself.”

He huffs, half embarrassed, half exasperated, still not meeting your eyes.

“It’s not that.”

This morning he put on fancy underwear, red silk and lace, an expensive piece he bought sometime ago on a whim and never wore before. It seemed perfect for the occasion, and throughout the day he felt tingly butterflies in his stomach, like he was hiding something - for once, it had nothing to do with violence or intrigues of his enemies, but a secret to be shared between the two of you tonight, anticipation of your surprise when you see it on him.

But now suddenly he feels anxious about it. This piece is so unlike him, a flimsy half-transparent thing, it was meant for someone sweet and seductive, with tender skin and delicate build, some society beauty and not a warrior like him. What if it looks foolish on him, with his prominent angular hipbones, hard muscles and many scars? He should’ve stuck to his usual style, plain and black, instead of trying to feel special, and now the idea of you thinking he’s ridiculous leaves him almost irrationally paralyzed.

“Then what is it, baby?”

Candleflames all over the room flicker as he grits his teeth. He feels frustrated, mad at himself, but his temper urges him to act when he feels unsure. He unclasps his belt with jerky motions, almost angrily, you frown at this until you notice red silk underneath.

“Wait, what’s that? It’s beautiful!”

He finally looks up at you with relief barely hidden.

“Oh? You like it?”

“I love it. It looks so hot on you.”

He lights up, trying to look nonchalant, but can’t help a small flattered smile when you pull him into a kiss, melts against you, anxious tension finally gone. When you start rubbing his clit through the thin layer of silk, he shivers, clings to you, and because his eyes are still closed, at first doesn’t see that the candleflames are flickering again, now even brighter. When he finally notices it, he sharply draws his breath and all fires go out, plunging the room into the darkness.

“Shh, baby, it’s okay,” you whisper into his ear while caressing his tensed up body soothingly.

This is so embarrassing, he’s used to lighting up the candles with a quick thought, so now that his emotions are in turmoil which isn’t an anger of combat, his vision reflexively reaches for the familiar safe outlet.

“It’s not going to be okay when I burn down the house around our ears,” he grunts, violently bright blush glowing even in the darkness.

“You won’t. Let go, baby, just relax,” you kiss him, his lips, jaw, neck, keep stroking his clit until he starts squirming against you, unable to contain himself. You press him down on the bed, get rid of the rest of his clothes until he's wearing nothing but the red silk panties. You trail kisses down his body, sharp collarbones, heavy breathing chest, sensitive buds of his nipples that are hard even before you swirl your tongue around them, scarred ribs and tense abs, until you slowly pull his panties down and press your lips to his clit. He gasps silently, throws his arm over his eyes and clamps up his thighs nervously, and the candles lit up, volatile flames rising up.

“You’re so lovely, babe,” you whisper against his skin. “Open up, let me see you.”

He shivers like the candlefires all around you, anxious anticipation ready to turn to the deeper passion. He lets you tug his underwear off and spread his legs, exposing his wet flushed cunt.

“Good boy,” you murmur quietly and watch how his entrance clenches. You give it a slow, long lick and he gasps quitely, fire sparking up around the room. He’s been eating mountain berries all day, so he tastes fresh and sweet, a little tangy, his soft tender flesh pulsing under your lips in the same rhythm as the flickering flames.

When your finger circles his entrance, the light dies down again, you can see him nervously holding his breath. You suck on his swollen clit until his hole throbs and opens up despite the anxiety, then carefully slide your finger in and curl it to caress his sweet spot. He gasps, bucks his hips involuntarily, candles flaring up all around you. You ease another finger in, start fucking him, slowly incresing the tempo, and he tries to keep quiet, only lets out harsh chocked grunts, but the flames all over the room are beating feveresly like the wings of crimon butterflies, painting the room and his pale body in gold, orange lights and deep dark shadows.

When he’s close, he reaches for you, pulls you up with such a needy sweet whimper that you let him without resistance, throws his arms around your shoulders, holding you close. He’s thrusting his hips into your fingers, and the room is lit in the colors of the sunrise if it was not a slow ascent, but a beating heart, - pulsing splashes of amber and yellow, mauve pink and intense crimson, fires on many candlesticks and fireplace roaring up far bigger than they ever could. He comes pressed against you, fingers digging into your shoulders, and the candelabras and fireplaces all over the mansion light up, for just a moment the winery looks illuminated in the night like the dawn really exploded inside of it.

After, he falls down on the bed, breathing heavily, lips parted and crimson eyes glowing as he looks up at you, your fingers still buried deep inside him.

“Did you enjoy it, baby?”

“Yes,” he answers quietly, but firmly, blush on his cheeks, but no shame in his voice.

“Good,” you grin, spread his knees and watch his breath hitch. “Because your birthday present doesn’t end until you beg me to stop…”

Ayato

Ayato might not have personal experience, but he is not naive. He’s read about this. He knows all of the mechanics. He’s thought about this in detail and he has no shame about it. Why would he, when knows he’s exquisite, a pleasure for anyone to reap. False modesty seems ridiculous here.

He’s in between your legs, naked, his back pressed to your chest, a big mirror on the opposite wall, allowing you to see his pale, slender body fully.

Your hands glide over his skin, his shoulders, pluck his nipples, then down the chest and ribs and over tense stomach, until reaching down  to his thighs. You spread his legs and fix them with your own, so he’s completely open, his pink cunt exposed to your eyes in the mirror, already flushed and wet. Your fingertip circles his clit slowly, lightly, and his body tenses in your arms.

“It feels different when you touch me,” he says, drawing his breath. “Sharper, somehow. Better.”

“Compared to what?” you ask, grinning, watching his subtle squirms in the mirror as you continue rubbing his clit with more and more pressure.

“To when I touched myself, of course,” he says, completely shameless.

“Have you imagined me fucking you?”

“Obviously. Haven’t you imagined fucking me?” he meets your eyes in the mirror with his little arrogant smirk, even as your hand in between his open legs makes him shudder.

“Of course,” you admit, smiling against the side of his neck.

“How?”

You kiss his arched throat and tender juncture between his neck and shoulder. “I think it’ll be more fun to keep it a surprise.”

As you tease his clit, his delicate folds tremble and open slowly, exposing his entrance, dark pink and pulsing with desire. He holds your gaze in the mirror, even if he swallows harshly and blushes.

“Have you fucked yourself there?” you ask softly, your lips pressed to his ear, your finger circling his twitching, wanting hole without entering.

“Yes…” his voice falters, he watches your movements intently. His entrance trembles and leaks a clear string of liquid and he blushes harder, but doesn’t try to close his legs.

“How many fingers?” you ask, still teasing his aching cunt. Your free hand roams over his tense body, sliding over the tender skin, playing with hard, aroused peaks of nipples.

“Two,” he’s breathing heavily through the open mouth, and you can feel his heartbeat fastening. You tantalizingly slowly stroke his silken wet folds, delicate like petals of his heraldic camellias, allowing him time to fully take in the obscene image in the mirror.

“Have you tasted yourself?”

“No… not yet,” he lets out, head dizzy from the scandalous depravity of this view of himself, naked, spread wide open, hips squirming needily, trying to get your fingers on his throbbing clit or dripping hole, bedsheets under him already stained with a wet patch. Such contrast to his usual controlled elegance and detached sophistication, and anticipation that this is just the beginning turns him on even more.

You finally slide your finger inside. He’s so wet that it goes in easily, allowing you to bury it to the knuckle. You hook it, stroking his pulsing walls, as he clenches around you, gasping through the parted lips, his eyes fixed on your hand between his legs.

You pull your finger out, a wet string drawing out after it from his hole.

His eyes snap to yours in the mirror, intense, demanding, and you smile.

“Look how wet and desperate you are already. You thought you could compare touching yourself to what I’ll do to you?”

Holding his gaze, you bring your finger covered in his wetness to his parted lips. You put it on his warm, waiting tongue and he blushes harder, pink almost as dark as his cunt spreading over his cheeks and neck, and starts sucking.

“I’ll wreck you. I’ll drive you crazy, make you scream until you lose your voice.”

You kiss his neck and stroke his soft inner thighs, watching his hole pulse and drool eagerly, as his mouth is working on your finger. You slide a second finger through his lips and start gently fucking his mouth, and he moans, his hips bucking involuntarily against an empty air.

You grin, circling his hard nipple, fingers of your other hand sliding over his tongue.

“I bet I can make you cum just from this,” you whisper in his ear. “Just from fucking your pretty mouth and you seeing yourself wide open and wet like a little whore. Have you imagined yourself undone just from that?”

He shudders, his moan muffled by your fingers. In the mirror you both can see how his hole opens wide as it pulses, showing slick pink walls, beads of clear liquid dripping out. He makes a choked gasp when you thrust two of your fingers in and comes immediately, his legs shuddering and hands clutching at your thighs.

You don’t give him time to get a hold of himself, start pumping your fingers inside, stretching his throbbing cunt as it clenches around you. He can feel the pleasure building up, nerve endings still sensitive from orgasm flaring up almost painfully sharp, his pussy makes loud, obscenely wet sounds as you fingerfuck it. He’s panting hard until your free hand slides up to his neck, caresses it gently, but firmly, and he tenses up, mouth open, eyes going unfocused. When you tighten your grip on his neck, your other hand still fucking his tight cunt, he comes hard, eyes rolling back and hips rising from the bed in jerky, trashing motions.

When he finally calms down, sweating and shivering against you, his thighs weak and covered in his own fluids, you catch his chin, force him to meet your eyes with a smirk.

“Still think you can do it yourself?”

He gives you his little spoiled smile, eyes glimmering from under half-lowered eyelids.

“I never do something myself if I can find someone who can do it better.“

Gorou

You notice how he starts fidgeting when you groom his tail, especially when you touch the base of it. It twitches in your hands, and his whole body tenses, while he’s hiding his eyes from you. He tries to be inconspicuous, biting his lips to keep quiet, clutching his hands on his lap, but you can see how he’s rubbing his thighs together, trying to get any friction for his aching cunt.

“Is something wrong?” you ask with concern.

“No!” he protests immediately. He was too busy with rebellion for so long, too focused and preoccupied with being a good general and keeping up respectable image for his troops that he completely neglected his love life, and now he feels too inexperienced, doesn’t know what to do when he realizes that he wants you.

“You seem uncomfortable, should I stop?”

“No, please, I’m fine,” he mutters weakly, still unable to meet your eyes. He’s ashamed, but it just feels so good. When you touch him, liquid warmth pools down in his belly, pulsing so maddeningly sweetly like he’s never felt before.

“Do you want more?” you ask, catching his chin. He blushes brilliantly and, unable to force himself to say it out loud, nods.

“Good boy,” you whisper into his ear when he meekly lets you pull him onto your lap, and he shudders, going weak and dizzy from praise and your hands roaming over his body. He starts squirming when you kiss him, slide your hands under his top to find the small buds of his tender nipples, already hard. His pussy throbs almost painfully, he wants you to touch it so badly it drives him crazy, but instead you run your fingers over his tense stomach, stroke his ass and sensitive base of his tail. He whimpers and bucks his hips against you, cunt already soaking wet and needy, and you chuckle.

“What is it, baby?”

“Please…” he whines. “Please touch me…”

You smirk, kissing trail down his neck, and he writhes desperately in your arms, but freezes when he feels you playing with the band of his pants. You still don’t touch his pussy though, keep drawing teasing circles on his stomach, moving lower and lower, but slow, so torturously slow. At the same time your mouth finds his nipple, hot tongue circling a little hard peak, and he mewls pathetically, arching, drawn tense like a bowstring, his chest rising in quick and shallow breaths under your lips. He feels hazy and overwhelmed, blood ringing in his ears, all his nerves painfully raw, so when your hand finally covers his clit, he comes immediately with a choked gasp, his fingers clutching at your shoulders, hips trembling, instinctively thrusting against your palm.

You smile, holding him close, let him lean on you, rubbing soothing circles over his back, your other hand still in between his legs.

“You’re really so sensitive that you can cum just from that, huh, puppy?”

“I’m sorry…” He blushes even harder, tries to hide his face in the crook of your neck, ashamed of himself, but most of all, of the fact that despite just coming, he still feels horny, his hole unsatisfyingly clenching over emptiness, and he wants so badly to have your fingers inside of him.

“It’s okay, baby. You did good. Do you want to keep going?”

“Yes!” he answers so fast and his tail starts swinging so enthusiastically that you chuckle.

“Such a needy little slut,” you finally start massaging his wet aching cunt and he whimpers gratefully despite embarrassment. “Take off your clothes.”

He’s glad to receive orders, he likes clear commands that he can obey and know that he’s doing good, be rewarded for that. He’s pulling his shirt off, but it’s hard, your fingers caressing his pussy distract him, make him shudder and tangle in his cloth. He almost loses his balance, but finally gets free, pink and panting, and you reward him by stroking his clit. He moans, grinds himself against your palm and tries to take off his pants, but he’s too wobbly from pleasure, tugging fruitlessly at his belt.

Impatiently, you pull him down and turn him over, so he’s lying on his stomach, and yank his pants off. He yelps in surprise, but doesn’t struggle, secretly thrilled by how easily and confidently you handle him.

You run your fingers in-between his slick folds, and he instinctively rocks against you, lifting his hips and spreading his knees, his face pressed into the bedsheets. He’s dizzy from desire and the thought of pleasing you, and pangs of shame for acting like this, exposing himself so needily only somehow add to the arousal, make it sharper.

You press a finger against his entrance and scratch his ears.

“Are you ready, baby?”

“Yes…”

You slide your finger into his tiny cunt and despite how wet he is, he’s still so tight that you have to work it in slowly.

“Had you never fingered yourself?”

“No,” he answers quietly, too embarrassed to meet your eyes. He only stroked his clit before, rubbing his thighs together, imagining you touching him, and it was enough for him to cum. Now he’s gasping, arching his back, thrusting up when you start pumping your finger in and out, but when you press another at his entrance, he whimpers pitifully and clenches up.

“Relax,” you tell him, softly stroking his back in reassurance. “You have to open up, puppy.”

He looks up at you over the shoulder, his bright eyes unfocused and gleaming wetly, bangs tousled and plastered over the sweaty forehead.

“But it feels so big…”

“It’s just two fingers. You’ll have to learn how to take in much more than that. You want me to fuck you with a cock, don’t you, baby?”

He bites his lips and nods, blushing violently. You press your thumb against his clit, sending white hot jolts of pleasure through his entire body, and he melts, his hole unclenching so that you can ease another finger in.

“Here we go. Good boy,” you curl your fingers inside of him, making him writhe needily in front of you, then carefully start fucking them in and out, slowly increasing your tempo, until he’s moaning and making tiny whimpers, hips bucking up erratically, fingers clawing at the bedsheets, his mouth going slack so that small string of drool escapes his lips. When you finally take your fingers out, he’s lost count how many times he came, flashes of pleasure rolling over him one after the other, leaving his body limp and his pussy sore, but so satisfied. You pull him to your chest and he curls against you, feeling tired, warm and taken care of.

Kaeya

He doesn’t tell you that it’s his first time. In part, he’s curious if he can pull it off, make you think he knows what he’s doing. He’s confident and graceful enough to seem smooth, and an amazing kisser, tongue sliding against yours on the exquisite edge between sensual and filthy. A blush that would look bright on someone paler just gives his ochre-brown skin a warm pinkish underglow.

Another reason is that inexperience is always a disadvantage and he doesn’t like showing weakness, only lets people have as much power over him as he knows he can take back or work around. He doesn’t want you to know how your lips on his throat make a shiver run down his spine, how a liquid tangle of nervousness and desire grows in the pit of his stomach when you unbutton his shirt, expose more and more of his skin. He shrugs off his jacket with a pointed carelessness, confident smirk never leaving his lips when you fully slide his shirt off his shoulders.

There’s no reason to see this as something special anyway. He wants pleasure, not complications, and if you knew, you might get presumptuous ideas that it means something or, archons forbid, decide to get feelings involved. You might treat him differently, slowly and carefully, like he’s fragile, which he detests. He had to be on guard since he was a small kid, he can handle sex. He likes the unrestrained hunger in your kisses, how roughly you grab his hips to pull him closer, how your hand slides between his legs to find him already wet.

“Impatient, aren’t you?” he asks with a smug smirk, unbuckling his belt.

There’s another reason, deep down, in the darkest corners of his mind, that he thinks about only very drunk and doesn’t speak out loud even then. He doesn’t deserve gentleness, judged unworthy and left for dead a long time ago. It’s a good thing that he realized it’s better for everyone if nobody cares about him too much. Sex is just for fun and nothing more.

“I don’t want to waste any more time getting to the good part.”

He lets you push him down on the bed, leans back on his elbows and lifts his hips to help you pull off his pants and underwear, a barely noticeable flinch of his thighs when he stops an instinctive urge to close his legs.

“Oh?” he raises an eyebrow with a playful complaint. “And I was looking forward to teasing you a little more.”

“Well then, go ahead. Anything you want, my knight. And I’d love to see how you plan to do it after already…” you flick your eyes over his naked body and smirk, “baring all of your cards.”

He scoffs pridefully, lifting his chin, making sure not to show that you calling his bluff caught him off-guard. It doesn’t matter, he was never the one to back down on his bets. He always liked a challenge and he’ll be damned if he can’t put on a show. If he was marked a sinner just by birthright, might as well get some fun out of it.

So he arches his back and spreads his thighs, an intoxicating feverish thrill from how hungrily you rake your eyes over him mixing with both his own arousal and nervousness into a heady, daring mix. “This is not even half of my cards… and you might never see all of them.”

His heartbeat echoes in his ears, fast and loud, but he holds your gaze with the same teasing smirk as he runs his hand down his body before slipping a finger into his wet cunt. The way you watch him, captivated, hungry, spreads the liquid fire through his veins, he grins wolfishly, wild, radiant. It feels so good, how he can make you move closer just by arching his neck and moving his fingers, like tugging a string, an almost gravitational pull between you bodies, desire strong enough to be honest at least in something, and at least for five fucking minutes it doesn’t matter who he is, just what he is now - wanted.

“Is this teasing enough for you?”

“You win this round without question,” you lean down, hovering over him without touching, and he lets out a breezy chuckle.

“Then what are you waiting for? Give me my prize.”

You claim his smiling lips and slide your finger into him, and he surprisingly feels much tighter than you’ve expected. He takes a few ragged breaths, a torturous, sweet burn of both of your fingers stretching him makes him dizzy. He tries to smile nonchalantly, but it’s a little too much, both pleasure and discomfort and the shamefully shameless way his legs are spread and both of you are moving inside of him, fingers touching, working him up.

He doesn’t want to come undone while you’re still too pulled together, too in control, so he throws his free arm around your shoulders and pulls you closer.

“Come on, fuck me already.”

“You’re still a little tight, baby.”

He scowls, tensing up, so you kiss his jaw soothingly. “Just a bit longer, don’t worry.”

You misinterpret him, he’s not worried that it’ll take longer, he’s worried that you even cared enough to take longer, and even worse, that there’s something small fluttering under his collarbones at the thought that you might care.

“I thought you wanted to get straight to the good part,” he challenges, purposefully arrogant.

“I’ve already got there,” you gently pull his hand out and bring it to your mouth to kiss his knuckles that still have his taste on them. “Seeing you mad with pleasure *is* the good part.”

He blushes, breath hitching for a second, fingers twitching against your lips. Probably because he’s irritated at how stubborn you insist on being for no reason, treating him like he’s made of glass.

“It’s fine. I can handle it. It always feels like this.”

“I don’t know what oafs didn’t bother prepping you properly before fucking,” you ease another finger in, “but I know how to treat a treasure when I get my hands on it.”

“I bet you tell it to any pretty face you get into your bed,” he says dismissively, his face showing nothing, but you can feel him tighten around your fingers. You didn’t expect that he’ll react to the offhand remark and even more, try to hide it, so instead of joking in return, you answer seriously.

“Of course not. And you know that you’re so much more than a pretty face.”

He raises an eyebrow with a crooked smile.

“Oh, really? Could I seduce you with my strategic planning skills? My unmatched talent for creating ice bridges?”

It’s weirdly endearing how inconspicuously he tries to fish for compliments, hiding it under sarcasm. He was always so confident and flirty, you didn’t consider that he might be used to giving compliments more than to receiving them, which seems like a terrible oversight on the parts of both society and you.

“Your sparkling charm. Your effortless sharp wit,” you tell him, intentionally without even a hint of irony, while slowly stroking silky tight walls inside of him. “The way you look after people, even when you hate to admit it. How you are smart, funny, capable and lovely. And too proud to admit that you want anything of this recognized.”

He opens his mouth to retort and somehow can’t find any words, gasping for air, his thoughts tangling uselessly as your fingers move faster and faster, your thumb pressing on his clit.

“See, I couldn’t say it to anyone else,” you whisper into his ear, curling your fingers to hit his sweet spot, feel him pulse and buckle his hips. “Because there’s no one like you, Kaeya.”

It’s the way you say his name, low and tender, that finally unravels him. He moans shakily, digs his nails into your shoulders, rocks himself onto your fingers, toes curling on the bedsheets.

“Yeah, baby, just like that, come on.”

You fuck him through the waves of pleasure, until movements of his hips become jerky and erratic. Then you slow down, but don’t pull your fingers out, just lightly circling his clit with your thumb, and his cunt aches, too sensitive and raw after orgasm. He closes his legs, but it just drives your fingers deeper. Instinctively, he reaches out for you, but you catch his wrists with your free hand, pull them up over his head and feel his walls clench.

“Hmm, you like that, don’t you, baby? You should’ve told me beforehand.”

He didn’t know he liked it himself before the very moment current of arousal ran through his body when you grabbed his wrists. Now, as you hold him down, looming over him, fluttery desire is wounding up tightly in the pit of his stomach.

“Isn’t it more fun to discover things for yourself?” he tries to sound nonchalant, but his voice comes out rugged, huskier than usual. “I told you I don’t show all of my cards at once.”

You chuckle, giving him a light kiss, one of your hands gently stroking the tender underside of his wrist and the other - his swollen clit. He looks gorgeous sprawled under you, slender and long-limbed, muscles tensing under the smooth skin, flushed and breathing heavily in the afterglow, his cunt softly throbbing under your caress.

“Well, I could have prepared something if I knew, but I guess we’ll just improvise.”

You tie his hands to the bedframe with his own cape. He can tell it’s strong enough to keep him from struggling, but not too tight to hurt or stop him if he really wanted to get free. He likes that, the binds on his wrists certainly feel good, but he’s not used to this, would hate to feel actually trapped.

You stroke his inner thighs when you spread them, press the head of your strap\cock against his entrance. He watches you slide into him, breathing heavily through parted lips, hands that tied over his head balling up in fists, but from the intensity of the feeling, not the pain.  

“See? Doesn’t it feel better when you’re fully ready and opened up for me?”

He bites his lip and gives you a deliciously wicked grin, his voice dropping almost to a purr. “Fine, I’ll admit… You win this round.”

You catch his mouth and drive your cock deeper inside, until it’s buried to the hilt, and he moans into your kiss, rises up in a shaky, shuddering wave, his knees trembling closed and falling apart again when you start slowly moving your hips.

He rarely gets drunk enough to lose control, even slightly, no matter how much he drinks, and when he does, it’s always a conscious decision, a trade-off to forget himself just for a little while, even if he fully knows he’s going to feel like shit afterwards. Now he arches into you and closes his eyes with the same feeling, but it doesn’t matter. No one takes dirty talk during sex seriously.

“You can do whatever you want to me,” he whispers against your skin, barely audible, all in one breath like taking a shot of firewhiskey, “but tell me that you want me.”

“I want you more than anyone else,” you keep gradually increasing the rhythm of your movements, drink sweet choked gasps from his lips. “I want to take you whole, everything you have,” you reach between the two of you to stroke his clit, and he shudders, his long legs circling your waist to hold you closer. You see his long fingers twitching and reach up with your free arm, cover his tied hands with your own and intertwine your fingers. His breath hitches and he clasps at your hand almost painfully hard, and just for a moment he looks truly vulnerable and raw, no games, no smokes and mirrors.

“Promise me… Tell me that even if…”

He stops himself, shuts his eyes and bites his lip hard enough to draw blood, but the helplessness and yearning in his voice already cuts you like a knife.

“Kaeya, what is it? Tell me, what do you want?” you can feel him closing off no matter how much in your power his body is. “Anything for you, baby, just tell me.”

He comes apart, filled by you, legs tightening around your waist, fingers of his tied hands intertwined with yours, clutching hard enough to make even his tan knuckles whiten. When he’s arching in your arms, he blindly finds your neck with his mouth and lightly grazes it with his teeth, half a kiss and half a bite, leaving just a smudge of blood from his lip. Then he goes slack, his legs falling apart limply, his fingers letting go of you with a final shudder.

You slip out of him, but don’t let go, gently cup his cheek, his unsaid pleas still ringing in your ears.

“Hey, what did you want to say?”

He looks away for a moment, then meets your eyes with his usual easy smile.

“Nothing, You know how people talk gibberish when they’re close.”

Kaeya Part two

[cayofdreams]

12 Nights of XXXMAS | Day 1: Breeding

Fit for a Princess

Pro-Hero!Deku x Reader

Summary: Upset at your fiance for not being able to come home on time for Christmas Eve, he makes it up to you with a gift only the likes of you could adorn. But now it’s time to fill your princess duties...

Words: 4.6k

Warnings/Tags: mirror sex, breeding, overstimulation, a dash of dumbification

Notes: uhh this was supposed to be like 2k words but then libido existed. Tagging @butterscotchbaku​ because their dom deku supremacy rhetoric has corrupted into my brain cells.

The view of the wintery outside was marvelous from your window. The snow painted the scenery a shimmering white, the various Christmas decorations adorning neighbor’s homes could place you directly into a wonderland, and the kids giggling and playing as they made snow angels under the street lights created the perfect picture of innocence.

Inside your home wasn’t bad either. The fire cracking at the fireplace sounded tranquil for your auditory senses, the Christmas tree in the living room gave you peaceful nostalgia from your childhood, and the smell of the sugar cookies baking in the oven was comparable to a candle from the most luxurious of department stores.

And yet, you were upset.

Or perhaps anger is the more fitting emotion dwelling over you currently. Your lover and recent fiancé, Midoriya Izuku was currently not treating you like the winter princess you deserved to be treated as. At this moment he was out doing patrols and other related hero work instead of tending to your very important needs.

What was even the point of doing all that work if his so-called ‘love of his life’ was sad, frustrated, and alone? It was easy for you to take the holidays off, granted you weren’t the #1 hero, but even still, your fiancé being in such high stature should make it easier to take days like this off, right? Surely, he was doing this to get back at you for something. After-all, he said he’d definitely be home by 4 p.m., and yet here it is closing in at 8:25 p.m, and you’ve yet to see even a text message from the man.

You even went out to get his specially crafted gift this morning so that he’d have something to look forward to on Christmas. And now you were regretting that.  He didn’t deserve anything special from you after pulling a no-show on his own fiancé on Christmas Eve.

*brrrring!* *brrrring!*

“Arf! Arf! Arf!”

The sound of the timer going off alerted you of the cookies being done and temporarily brought you out of your pity session. It also alerted you and Midoriya’s one-year old puppy who was always so excited to hear when it seemed food was ready.

“Calm down, Mighty. You can’t have sugar cookies, remember? They aren’t good for you.”

Quickly wrapping an apron around your waist, you tucked on the oven mitt and carefully placed the cookies from the oven to the kitchen counter.

“Arf! Arf!”

“You are so needy, aren’t you? You look like Izu but you have my personality.” You reached into the cabinet above you to grab the dog treats you stored away. Grabbing two of the biscuits, you bent down to hand them to your puppy. “Here baby, you can have these.”

Satisfied with how happily little Mighty was chopping on the treats, you decided to wait for your own treats to cool before decorating them. Going to sit down on the couch, you grabbed the remote to flick on the television, an attempt at distracting yourself from current frustrations.

A bad decision considering everything broadcasted now seemed to deal with lovers and families coming together for the holidays. The cheery smiles and rosy cheeks on the actors’ faces made you burn with jealousy as you sat fiancé-less in your home.

“Jake! You actually…you actually came back to me for the holidays!”

“Of course, I did Katherine. I wouldn’t miss spending Christmas with you for the world.”

You sucked your teeth at the overly-dramatic displays of affection, deciding to turn off the T.V. all together. Rubbing your fingers along the bridge of your nose, it seemed even Mighty took pity on you, as he jumped on the couch to snuggle his little body into yours. Picking him up and cuddling him into your chest, you fantasized about your fiancé walking through those doors. How he’d pick you up and carry you to the bedroom, peppering kissing along your face and telling you how-

*clink!*

The sound of the door unlocking made your heart jump and Mighty to jump from your arms to run to the door, barking in excitement at who’d soon walk through.

“Heheh~ Hello little Mighty. Did you take care of Y/N while I was gone?”

“Arf! Arf! Arf!”

His tail wagged enthusiastically as Midoriya bent down to rub all around his ears. “You did? Such a good boy.” Standing back up, he looked at your figure still sitting on the couch, arms folded and lips formed into a pout. “I’m sorry I’m late, baby. Some things came up on the way home.” Putting down his gear by the door, he walked into the kitchen, immediately in amazement at the cookies you seemed to bake for him. “You made cookies? They smell so good, can we eat them now?”

Standing up, you hastily walked to the kitchen, grabbing away the pan of cookies before Midoriya could grab one. “No. They aren’t for you.” You placed the pan on the farther end on the kitchen counter, further symbolizing your statement.

Midoriya let out a small giggle, finding a bit of amusement in your bratty displays. Wrapping an arm around your waist, he pulled you into him before squeezing you into a tight hug from behind. “That’s okay, you look and smell much better than those cookies anyways.” He attempted to kiss you on the cheek, but you moved your head away with a click of the tongue. “Plus, you look so delicious in that apron. I never get to see you look so much like a little housewife.”

You forcefully pulled yourself away from Midoriya’s embrace before placing folded arms once again under your breasts. “Well I’m not a housewife. Or a wife, it seems.”

Finding your comment to hit a bit below the waist, he furrowed his eyebrows at you. “What’s that supposed to mean?” You huffed out a puff of air, standing there briefly before brushing past him out of the kitchen. “Y/N!” Ignoring his calls, you entered the bedroom and Midoriya heard the loud shut of the door.

Deciding to give you time to calm down, Midoriya let you be as he stripped down to hop in the shower. As the hot water beat down his back, he thought about how to best analyze his current dilemma with you. He was no stranger to your more rebellious attitudes, but it seemed today you were actually pissed at him. And he could admit that you had reason to be.

This was the first holiday that the two of you were to spend together since becoming engaged. You even baked cookies for him. Wearing an apron at that. Given the amount of work you had piled up yourself throughout the year, you never really had the time to show such cute displays of love. You were probably even excited to have a couple days to play a cute housewife for him, and to you, he probably ruined that by not being home for half the day.

But you needed to understand as well. That given his position in society he couldn’t just take days off no matter how special the occasion. It didn’t matter how much previous overtime he worked, or how many villains he’d catch. It didn’t matter how badly he wanted to be home with you. How badly he wanted to have you curled up in his arms, sitting by the fireplace while munching on cookies very much outside the both of yours’ diet. He wanted that just as much as you did, but what he wanted even more was to be a hero. To be your hero. And it’d take sacrifices from the both of you to continue to be that.

As Midoriya stepped out of the shower, he dried himself off with one of the fancy towels you must have recently decorated the bathroom with for the holidays. Chuckling to himself, he put on a pair of pajama pants and went to retrieve a bag that he left under his gear. As he opened the door to the master bedroom, he was met with your curled up back, the light of the phone screen illuminating your side profile.

“You know…it’s still just Christmas Eve, babe.” Midoriya approached the side of the bed, placing the small gift bag on the dresser. “We still have Christmas to spend with each other.”

Continuing to face away from him, you scrolled mindlessly on your phone. “Christmas Eve has the word ‘Christmas’ in it. So that makes it Christmas. Which means you missed Christmas, Izuku.”

“Don’t be like that, Y/N. You’re a hero yourself, so you know how demanding this life is.”

“I-…I know. I just- I just wore something so special today and it doesn’t even matter anymore.”

Wore?

“Doesn’t matter anymore? There’s still a couple hours of Christmas Eve, Y/N.” His words seemed to fall on deafened ears as you stayed silently scrolling on your phone. Sighing, Midoriya pulled out a long black box from the gift bag and held it in his hand. “So, you don’t want your Christmas present?”

His lips curled into a smile at how your head perked up from the mention of a gift. “I was going to wait until the Christmas that is tomorrow but since you’re so upset, I’ll give it to you tonight.” Despite a stern exterior, Midoriya truly thought you were like a puppy. So whiney and mean until you got the treat you felt like you earned. Well today was training day.

“You got me a gift, Izu?” You straightened up to sit on the edge of the bed, curious eyes falling from his shirtless physique to the long black box in his hand. The velvety material informed you that this was no ordinary gift. “What is it?”

“Something only fit for a princess.” Your lips started to match Midoriya’s curled ones as you jumped up and got closer to him. Your hand started to reach for the box before he held away from your reach.

“I said only fit for a princess.”

“I- I am a princess! C’mon let me see it~!”

“I don’t know, Y/N. You didn’t even share any cookies with me…”

“They’re your cookies! All of them! Lemme see, lemme see!”

Midoriya continued to keep the box from your reach, finding your switching between excitement and pouting to be cute. “You said you wore something special, right? And as beautiful as you look in those pajamas, I’m sure that’s not what you were referring to.”

You fiddled with the first button on your top, your facial expression becoming more flustered. “But…I’ve been wearing it for some hours now. I probably wore out that new feel to it…”

“Good. It probably matches your smell now.”

After hesitating for a brief period, you finally undid the first button, slowly continuing to undress yourself. Midoriya watched with a quiet gaze, still clutching onto the box in hand. After unbuttoning the top, you slipped off your pajama pants before sliding off the top, fully revealing your gift to him.

“Wow…” You were wearing a dark green lingerie, specially made in order to hug you in all the right areas. Midoriya could tell by the side cut-outs on your stomach that it was designed to mimic his hero-costume. The lacy garter and its belt accentuated your waist and thighs even more than they naturally did on their own.

But the perfect icing on the cookie was simply your face. The way that even the dim bedroom light seemed to make your e/c eyes glimmer in illumination. How your pouty lips formed the perfect bow. And best of all, how despite that pout, you still seemed to look innocent to him. Most days you looked more sexy or daring. But tonight, despite such erotic attire, to Midoriya you never looked more cute.

“Do you like it…?”

Midoriya put the box down on the vanity, meeting your reply with rough hands that massaged all around your body. The little whimpers that left your lips as he squeezed softly at your laced breasts sounded like carols in his ears. “You really are a princess,… princess.”

“T-That’s what I said. Can I have my gift now…my green-haired prince?”

Midoriya chuckled as he guided you by the waist to stand directly in front of the vanity’s mirror. He hands continued to roam and squeeze around your body as he looked at your reflection. “My princess can have whatever she wants. Just let me see all of you, baby.”

You slowly took the box in your hand, firstly inspecting the exterior. The velvet felt so soft in your hands, a savory compliment with the rough caresses from your fiancé. Carefully opening it, the shimmering of the contents greeted your eyes as Midoriya’s lips greeted the tenderness of your neck.

It was a headband. But not just any headband. An elegant one; fully decorated in the most precious of diamonds. You even recognized the rare diamond cut as being the same kind as the one adorning your ring finger currently. The shine of its beauty bouncing off the dim lamp’s light brought a tear to your eye.

“I figured since you’re my princess, you deserved the finest of crowns.” Midoriya’s hands slipped down your arms to cradle your hands that were clutching tightly on the velvet box. “Should I crown you?”

You silently nodded, wiping a stray tear that streamed down your cheek. Looking into the mirror, you saw your fiancé once again embellish you with diamonds. The bejeweled headband seated snuggly around your head, you couldn’t help but feel like you were truly wearing a crown. “It’s so beautiful, Izuku…” Your eyes shifted to Midoriya’s, who was looking at your reflection with the merriest of smiles.

He pressed a kiss to the back of your shoulder before looking back at you. “Only because you’re wearing it, princess.” His hands slid down to your waist, squeezing at your laced flesh. “I think it’s only right for you to do your princess duties now, Y/N.”

You shifted your head sideways to side-eye your fiancé quizzingly. “What do you mean? What duties?”

Midoriya kissed your neck once more as he slid one hand over your lacy garter, into your panties. He slowly rolled his fingers around your folds, pleased with how you were already a little wet for him. He could thank your materialism for that. “It’s only right for you to make an heir.”

“N-No way…”

“You don’t want children with me, Y/N?”

Midoriya’s question rang through your ear as his fingers slickly circled your clit. “You want children with me?”

You felt a puff of air hit your skin as Midoriya softly chuckled at your question. “Well…It’d be a lie to say I haven’t thought of filling you up with puppies. And tonight-“ Midoriya slipped a finger inside your pussy, curving it to graze right against your g-spot. “You looked so damn cute in that apron. If I were home to see you baking cookies in that, you’d already be plump with my future children.”

Midoriya slipped another finger inside, using the pad of his hand to continue stimulating your throbbed clit. “Izu~!” His other hand slithered up to your breast, squeezing and twisting at your nipple from outside its lacy barrier.

“Look at yourself, princess.” Your eyes that had drifted to the vanity’s surface aligned back at their reflection. The headband atop your head shimmered beautifully through the mirror. “Imagine how stretched out that garter will get when your tummy swells with my kid.”

A sinful moan escaped you, the thought of having Midoriya’s children starting to lustily plague your mind. As he continued playing with your sponge like an instrument, you felt your stomach bulge with an oncoming orgasm. “I-Izuku~ ! Gonna cum!” And right on queue it seemed, Midoriya had quickly slipped his fingers out of you, your whine sounding as beautiful as your crown.

“Not yet, Y/N. I researched that its better to cum closer to when a person’s semen is ejaculating inside the womb. It increases chances of impregnation.”

Catching your breath from your failed orgasm, you bent down so your face hovered over the vanity’s surface. With your back elegantly arched, your ass pressed against the hardness of Midoriya’s cock that stood proudly inside his pajama pants. Reaching your hand behind you, you slipped your fingers under the crotch of your panties, pulling them to the side. Your puffy lips looked so soft, and your drenched hole seemed to wait achingly for your fiancé to fill it. “T-Then ejaculate, you nerd~”.  

Licking his lips, Midoriya freed his cock from his pants, giving it a couple jerks as he admired the view of your pussy. Noticing some of your juices were drooling onto the floor, he placed the head of his cock under you, collecting your leaking before rubbing along your folds. He teased you by poking the tip at your clit, relishing in your whine-filled moans that reverberated in his ears. “My princess is so fucking gorgeous.” He slipped the tip in, your entrance now hugging him tightly around the head. “Gonna look even more gorgeous with my child taking up all the room in that tummy.”

As he sunk his cock in, the stinging stretch of it made you impulsively tighten your walls even more around him. “Oh my god- Izuku~!” There was never a time where the thickness of Midoriya’s cock didn’t take you by a slightly painful surprise. When he was half-way in, he paused to check in after your thighs started to quiver. He noticed your lull in breathing as you held your breath in.

“Breathe, baby.” He reached his hand around your thigh to twiddle with your clit. “You need a little help? Don’t worry.” You nodded, succumbing to the onslaught of pleasure brought on by Midoriya’s fingers. “You always struggle to take my cock at first.” The sounds of your moans filled the bedroom as your stretched pussy relaxed around his cock. “But then you end up taking me- “. Feeling you grow slicker with each flick at your clit, Midoriya slowly sunk the entirety of his cock inside you. “-All the way to the hilt.”

His balls softly slapped against your clit and your walls twitched around him. With fingernails scratching against the surface, you looked behind you to meet his lustful green eyes. “You- You’re all the way in?”

He replied with a chuckle before bringing his hand toward your face, squishing your cheeks tenderly between his fingers. “That’s right. Look-“ Guiding your face to look back into the mirror, he started to gently thrust inside you. “Look at how well you’re taking me, baby. My cock fits so snug inside my princess.”

“Ohh shit~ Izuku-!” Midoriya’s increased his pace, his cock seeming to grow even more at how your silky pussy hugged around him. “You’re getting biggerrr~! Feels good!” You started to jerk your hips back to meet his thrusts, now balancing yourself on your forearms that rested on the vanity.

“Are you going to cum? Going to get your womb nice and ready for me?” Midoriya wrapped his scarred hands around the sides of your waist, squishing hard enough for your fat to plunge through his fingers. “Keep looking at your beautiful face in the mirror, Y/N. I want to see and hear you call my name when you cum.”

Midoriya pumped his cock vigilantly inside you while your pussy fluttered pleasingly around him. You looked at yourself in the mirror, in awe at how drunkenly you had become for him. The elegant band that was fit on your head was practically a juxtaposition against your lecherous facial expressions. Your mouth gaped open for delirious moans to pour out, while saliva drooled down your chin onto the vanity. Certainly no proper look for a princess you thought.

As the head of Midoriya’s cock plunged against your spongy sweet spot, your hands gripped at the edge of the vanity, desperate for stability. “Izukuuu…~”

“Go ahead, princess. Please cum for me.”

You tried to keep looking at your reflection but your eyes drifted to the back of your head as the pressure of your orgasm swelled inside your core. “I’m cumming~! Izuku! I’m cumming~!”

The feeling of your pussy convulsing around Midoriya’s cock made him grunt as he reached his own orgasm. His fingernails dug into your flesh, almost breaking skin while his thrusts became more jerky and erratic. “Fuck! Y/N- You feel so good-! Gonna cum inside you-!”

You felt the warm thickness of his cum filling you inside, his cock pulsating with every spurt. He slowly slid in and out of you as he calmed down and his grip around your waist softened. Regaining his breath, he slipped completely out of you, a bit of his cum dripping out as well. He slipped his hands under your chest to stand you up before gently gripping you behind the neck to pull you into a kiss.

The kiss was sloppy and wet as you were too in-the-clouds to pay attention where you moved your tongue. You simply whined as he sucked on the pink muscle, gripping on his bicep to maintain your balance. Midoriya lapped up the drool from your chin before licking at the inside of your mouth again.

Finally separating his lips from yours, he gave a squeeze to your ass before pushing you down on the bed. “Are you ready to be bred, princess?” He cradled his hands under your knees, pushing them up to be positioned by your breasts.

Your eyebrows furrowed, confused at his question. “B-But you just came. You came inside…”

He chuckled as he rubbed the tip of cock along your folds, gathering up the drooly mix of your juices and his seeped cum. “You didn’t think one time would be enough, did you? We have to make sure you get completely filled up, Y/N. Otherwise the chances of you getting pregnant won’t be so high.”

He sunk his cock inside of you again, the new mating-like position making it so his cock aimed directly against your now tender g-spot. The oversensitivity of it make you whine loudly as your hands reactively came up to press against his abs, attempting to slow him down. “Its-! Its too sensitive right now-! Wait a second~”

Midoriya shushed you as he took one of your hands in his, placing it beside your head as he intertwined his fingers with yours. “Ssshh…You’re not supposed to be bratty anymore, remember?” His balls pressed against your ass as he filled you once more all the way to the hilt. The tip of his cock hitting your cervix made a high-pitched moan leave your lips. “You took it so well before, so just do it one more time, okay?”

His hips grinded against yours as he took slow and deep thrusts inside your pussy. The feeling would have been sensual if it wasn’t for your current high levels of sensitivity. You could feel the head of his cock glide against each rib of your pussy’s walls before softly poking your cervix. The fingers that were entangled with your fiancé’s tightened with each thrust. “M-My cervix~ Too fucking big~”

Midoriya leaned down to press delicate kisses around your face, admiring how your moans were now sent directly into his ear. “I’ll be careful, okay? I can move how I want as long as I don’t hit it, right?” You nodded, a bit nervous at the foreshadowing question.

Midoriya straightened his torso, his hands finding their place back on your thighs as he put all nearly all his weight on you. Taking his cock almost entirely out of you, he quickly submerged it back inside, making sure to stop before he hit your wall. Although not reaching your cervix, he still made sure to properly grind against your g-spot, making your pussy even soppier than before.

His cock plummeting in and out of your pussy made squelching noises as the creamy mixture of your fluids spurt out on your thighs. Your hands wrapped around his forearms, fingernails scratching against the flesh. Your breathing became harsh pants as your tongue lolled out from between your lips. You feel yourself about to reach another orgasm and the throbbing of Midoriya’s cock told you he was at the same state.

“You-You’re gonna make me cum again~!”

“Me too, Princess. Are you going to take more of my cum?”

Nodding profusely, you focused on the growing bulge inside your stomach. “Y-Yeahh~!!” Bringing your hands up to his muscled shoulders, you looked euphorically into his green eyes. “Kiss me! Please~!”

Without any hesitation, Midoriya leaned down chest-to-chest, sloshing his tongue with yours. Saliva trailed down your cheeks as you mingled your fingers in his curly locks. His cock now hitting you in deeper places, your pleasure would override the kissing at your cervix. As you came around his cock, you felt once again the hot spills of Midoriya’s semen filling your womb. You moaned whinefully into his mouth as he continued to slowly thrust into you. The lubrication of his cum making his strokes slicker.

Ending the kiss, Midoriya wrapped his arms around your back, cupping your body into him as he started to pound into your pussy once more. The pleasurable feeling was too intense, making you barely able to think anymore. “F-Fuughh~!! Ijhuku!!”

“Just one more time, princess. Okay?” His thrusts now shallow and deep, you became lost in delirium as his cock relentlessly plundered into your pussy. “Wow, look- You’re feeling good even when I’m hitting your cervix, aren’t you? Taking me this deep- You’re going to be so full of my kids.”  

“I-Ijhukuz babieess~!!”

“Heh~ If only we were still by the mirror, you could see how you look right now, all drunk from my cum.” He reached his thumb down circle at your clit, making your pussy clench around him in reaction. “Gosh, can you hear how mushy you are, princess? You’re so fucking soft inside. So perfect for me.”

“Guh-Guhmming~!!” Desperate to seek a break from the continuous pounding against your overstimulated sponge, you squirmed your hips around, pushing your hands against Midoriya’s shoulders in attempt to escape his grasp.

“Just hold still, okay? I’m- I’m almost there-“ Grunting behind gritted teeth, he wrapped his powerful arms around your head to further lock you in place.

“Haaahh~! Ijhuuu-!” Your thighs quaked intensively at Midoriya’s more rapid and deep thrusts as he chased his final orgasm. Pitchy and incoherent babbles filled his ears, further gratifying his desires. “Y-Yur cumm~ Sho full-! Sho full of- Ijhukuz cum~! Sho muchh~!”

“Oh fuck, princess. Your pussy and voice- Fuck! So cute-!” Midoriya’s pants became erratic and gaspy as his cock throbbed inside you. With a couple of longer and harsher strokes he finally released the last of his load inside your womb, a bit of it seeping out onto the bed from there not being much room for more.  

Without slipping out of you, Midoriya straightened his back, smiling while he looked at your blissed-out face. He maneuvered your leg to the other side of his hip so that you’d be rested on your side. Laying down with his chest against your back, his hands caressed the area below your stomach, admiring how plump it became with his cum.

“I can’t wait to see how you beautiful you look in the next few months…” Peering at your side profile, he noticed you were deep in slumber. Pressing soft kisses to your shoulder, he gave a couple of gentle strokes, as if verifying that his cum was properly preserved inside you. Satisfied, he cradled his arm under your head, continuing to stroke your stomach lovingly as he closed his eyes.

“But we’ll have fun until then won’t we, princess?”

Taglist (if your name is unlinked, I was unable to tag): @bnha-free-writing​ @amelietheslut @waifutiddies

[lorelylantana]

A Blindsided Engagement Chapter 2: Engagement

Chapter 1

Chapter Rating: G Overall Rating: G

Ava Vanguard was surprised to see Link return to Hateno a full month ahead of schedule. She was a bit disappointed when she read that her husband and son would assist in clearing the damage of Calamity and it would be some time before she could see her family again, but the relief that they survived was enough to keep her content. News that her family still stood was all she could ask for as a military wife and mother. She was just sitting down to lunch when none other than her son walked through the door. 

Link seemed well, better than she’d ever seen him, in fact. He was dressed smartly in boots she recognized as standard issue for the Royal Guard and the Champion’s tunic he was so fond of. Ava was a bit perplexed at the circlet gleaming on his forehead, but shrugged it off. After slaying Calamity, her son no doubt received gifts of all kinds. Link carried a garment bag in his hands, which he hung on the hook by the door before hugging her tight. 

“Hi, Ma.”

“Let me look at you,” she said, taking his face in her hands. She was glad to see a quiet joy in his eyes that she hadn’t seen since he drew the sword that hung over his shoulder. It made her happy to see bits of the son return to her after he walled himself off. “Tell me everything.”

Link managed to explain the story of Calamity’s downfall between bites of their split lunch, which is how Ava knew he was nervous. Now that Calamity was soundly defeated, there were very few things that Ava could think of that would cause such reticence.

Did her son find a significant other? Had he come to ask for permission to bring someone home?

“You're earlier than expected,” she prompted, gauging her son’s reaction, “Is there anything you wanted to tell me?” 

Link cleared his throat, hand coming up to the back of his head.

“I’m engaged.”

Well, she wasn’t that far off.

Ava gasped, “I had no idea you found someone special! You should have written!”

“It was really sudden,” he admitted, “Honestly, I’m still shocked she said yes.”

Ava laughed, made euphoric by relief. She was aware of and lost countless night’s sleep over the walls her boy had put around himself. Her heart broke to see that forced apathy in his eyes. Yet here he stood, joy written in every line of his face, no sign of restraint in sight.

It was a shame she couldn’t stop to admire it, as not a moment later her son straightened.

“I have to go, the wedding planning’s been keeping me busy. I thought I would invite you to the engagement feast personally, but I have to be getting back,” he nodded toward the garment bag, “I thought you could wear that to the banquet. A tailor in the castle can alter it if it doesn’t fit.”

With a hug and a kiss to his forehead, Link was gone. Vanished out the door, and once again she was alone.

For a moment, a bittersweet moment, she was still. Her little boy had grown up, and she didn’t get to see it. Still, the melancholy thought was drowned out with the elation that came with the knowledge that her son, amid the chaos, found a safe harbor to bare his soul to.

Ava shook her head and moved to the garment bag. She had a nice dress, so she didn’t know why he gave her a new one.

At least, that’s what she thought before she opened the bag.

She had never touched a fabric so fine. Her fingers glided over deep velvet and silk, gazing in awe at the gold detailing along the sleeves. A dress fit for royalty.

Ava smiled to herself. Her son was always such a sweet boy, though perhaps she should scold him. There was no need to spend so much money on her.

It’s not like she could wear such nice clothes very often.

-

Captain James Vanguard wasn’t really surprised when he received an invitation to a banquet and instructions to wear his dress uniform. He’d been expecting it. His son was the Hero of Hyrule, of course he’d be invited to the victory celebration. He was taken a bit off guard when the footman informed him that said celebration would be held that very evening, but James Vanguard was a soldier through and through. It took him a quick thirty minutes to change out of his armor, scrub the day’s grime from his body, and slip into the red and blue suit that had been issued upon his knighthood and he was ready for the grand occasion. 

Despite his quick response time, the party was already in full swing when James entered the Sanctum, lit up by blue flame, giving the ancient hall an ethereal glow that was at once new and old. For a moment he was silent, letting the fact that they were at peace sink in at long last. Perhaps now he could retire without the guilt of letting his country down. Spend his days holding his wife instead of just thinking of her.

The King’s approach snapped him out of his reverie. James bowed, “Your Majesty.”

“Good evening, Captain! Are you enjoying the festivities?”

“Yes, Your Majesty, I can’t imagine a better way to celebrate the occasion. More than I expected, to be frank.”

The King threw his head back and laughed, “I can imagine. You must be proud of your boy, hm?”

“Of course. He’s exceeded every hope I had for him. That said, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t worried for him.”

James had lost many nights’ sleep thinking of how his little boy seemed to curl under the weight of his destiny. In his more fanciful thoughts, he’d believe that the burden would be lifted, but his years as a soldier had taught him that it wouldn’t be so simple. 

He knew that the physical scars were the easiest to overcome.

King Rhoam hummed, “I can imagine, but I’m sure our children will pull through. We’ll be there to advise them after all.”

And with that, the King was gone, off to speak with the other guests. James shook his head. This was a happy time, and he was told Ava was here. His energy should be spent towards finding his wife.

Ava looked around, completely unprepared for the grand scale of the celebration before her. She was told her husband would be in attendance as well, so she searched for him, feeling like a fish out of water.

“Mrs. Vanguard, it’s so lovely to finally meet you!” 

Ava turned to see none other than Princess Zelda herself, walking towards her in a fluttering violet gown the exact same shade of the coat her son now wore. The Champions likely coordinated their attire. Ava hurried to curtsy the best she could, but the Princess merely waved a hand.

“Oh there’s no need for that, please. I’ve been eager to finally speak with you. You must be so proud of Link, I certainly am. 

Ava blinked, pleasantly surprised that the Princess held her son in such high regard. Eager as she was to finally discover who her son’s bride was, Ava wasn’t about to refuse a request from the Golden Princess, so she talked for hours about her favorite moments of Link’s childhood.

“You must tell me what Link was like as a child, and spare no details!”

Ava wasn’t about to deny a chance to relay some of her fondest memories, especially at the princess’ request. They talked for what seemed like hours. She wasted no time telling the Princess about Link’s childhood escapades. She was just about to explain how five year old Link rode a bear through the village street in nothing but shorts when Princess Zelda was called away for a speech.

Ava sighed, alone once again. Perhaps she could spot her son in the crowd?

“Ava!”

She turned, a smile growing on her face and her husband’s arms wrapped around her. She kissed him, alight with affection and relief at seeing James and feeling his beating heart against her chest. 

The war really was over.

“I missed you,”

“I missed you too.”

As blissful as the moment was, it was cut short by the King addressing the crowd.

“I hope all of you are enjoying the evening. I can’t think of a better way to mark the end of the Calamity’s reign than with an engagement, and so we gather to-”

Confused, James leaned into his wife’s ear.

“Who’s getting married? Anyone we know?” 

Ava turned to look at him with that expression she wore whenever he said something stupid, which he thought was unwarranted for once given the situation.

“It’s Link, James.”

“What?”

“What did you think this party was for? It’s to celebrate Link’s engagement!”

“His what?”

“Our son is getting married,” Ava said, “Since he’s one of the Champions, the royal family was kind enough to celebrate with him.”

Vanguard was reeling, “Who’s he getting married to?”

Ava tutted, “He didn’t mention her name, I was going to ask him tonight, but Princess Zelda wanted to talk and I’ve been sidetracked all evening. She really is such a lovely girl.”

Before he could ponder this revelation further, King Rhoam commanded the room’s attention.

“I would like to thank you all for celebrating this wonderful occasion with us. After such dark times, it gives me great joy to hold this feast in anticipation of a union I have no doubt has the support of all Hyrule-”

As the king spoke, the Captain scanned the Sanctum, trying to spot his son’s mystery bride. Could it be Mipha, they had spent some time together as children, and he wouldn’t be surprised if it grew to something more. James thought better of it as soon as he spotted the Zora in question. She was beautiful, dressed in her Champion blue, but there was an air of melancholy about her that was impossible to ignore. Captain Vanguard hoped his future daughter in law wouldn’t look so forlorn at the engagement party. 

“-and now, without further ado, I ask that you all join in as we celebrate the upcoming nuptials of my dear daughter, Zelda Lana Hyrule, and her loyal Champion, Link Vanguard!”

Wait a minute.

His son’s name was Link Vanguard.

Captain Vanguard blinked as the room erupted with applause, looking up to the man standing beside the Princess and king.

Well, there he was, standing where the Princess’ fiance was supposed to be with his arm linked with. Before he could process the implications of these observations, a butler came by to guide James and his wife to a private banquet hall. They sat down next to each other and were told to wait. It was strange, to be sitting at a table he’d spent countless hours guarding. James shifted in his seat.

“To clarify,” James began, “Our son’s going to marry Princess Zelda?”

Ava nodded, “I think so,”

Link and Zelda walked smiling through the door, and the room descended into chaos.

[ciggylungz]

Miss Ginger

Miss ginger

Blurb night- 2.5k

(request: can you plz do something about Harry being all soft with his kids?)

 -----

Harry had always been a family man. Ever since he was a little boy he dreamed of having his own family, couple of kids, a nice family home with a big back garden for the little ones to run around in and him and his wife to attempt to grow some fruits and veg and maybe a few sunflowers or daisies. Simple, modest, pure and quaint but most of all, happy.

The day Harry met Y/n he knew she was special. She had this aura that he wanted to wrap himself in like a blanket. A laugh as pretty as song birds in the morning, a heart of gold, quick wit and full of talent. He knew she was going to be his wife someday, and he swears the day she said yes when he got down on one knee his heart grew 3 times its size.

The pair planned their wedding to be an intimate, beautiful event and with the help of Harry’s lovely mother Anne and Y/n’s combined work they were able to pull it off. They had decided to invite their parents and siblings, their closest friends- which included Harry’s former bandmates who made sure to embarrass the newly wed man during their best man speech- and all of Harry’s god children as well as their parents.

Harry wasn’t shy about crying when he saw his bride walk down the isle towards him, her dress was a simple silk fitted gown with delicate trimming of lace. Y/n chose to wear the same pearl earrings her mother had worn at her own wedding and a diamond necklace Anne had gifted her for the occasion. He really couldn’t help the waterworks making their way down his face as he took in her beauty, he stayed weepy through the entirety of their vows a huge smile across his dimpled face when he finally lifted the vail over her head giving her the first kiss as a married couple. She was his, and he was hers and the pair couldn’t be more smitten for each other even as they stand where they are now nearly 4 years into their marriage.

Over the last 4 glorious, joyful years of being fully committed to each other, sharing a surname and living as a unite the pair had welcomed 2 beautiful children into the world. Alfie who was nearly 3, he was conceived only around 6 months into their marriage yet they couldn’t have been more elated to find out they were expecting. The second was their little girl Rosana that they affectionally called by her nickname ‘Rosie’ and she was now coming up on 10 months old, she was starting to become increasingly mobile already such a bubbly happy little girl who had her dad wrapped around her tiny chubby finger.

__

Harry was currently on a break, just finishing his first solo tour finally getting some downtime to be home with his family and he couldn’t be happier. He loved every part of fatherhood, he enjoyed getting up in the morning and starting the little ones routines. First Harry would go downstairs, putting a kettle on while taking some breastmilk y/n had pumped from the fridge to warm up, when both of those were taken care of he’d migrate back upstairs into his sons room where he’d usually find his little guy sitting up in his new big boy toddler bed playing with one of the various stuffed toys on his bed as he waited patiently to be gotten up. Harry adored the way his son would perk up when he walked in, opening the toddlers curtains to let the sunshine in giving him a nice morning cuddle before taking him to the bathroom to change out of his pullup into his new big boy underwear since y/n and Harry are finally reaching the tail end of potty training their first born. It had been a struggle, yet every time their little boy danced around with a sticker on his shirt for going on the potty it was worth every bed wetting incident, and all the terrible two��s tears that came with the teaching. After he had him changed, he tried his best to tame the boys hair. The little tyke inherited his fathers chocolate curls unlike his sister who wore a head full of ginger ringlets.

After all of the hygiene tasks were complete, he’d serve the boy his breakfast, steeping his wife and him a cup of tea using the remaining warm water to heat the breastmilk in for when Rosie decided to greet the day. Harry didn’t mind giving his girl a bottle feed so his wife could get a little extra sleep in the mornings, opting to nurse during the day and before bed pumping whatever’s left to hold Rosie over till her mother wakes up.

Unlike some people, when Harry heard the baby monitor start to go off with the cries Rosie gives when she first wakes up he smiles instead of groans. He didn’t get angry when his kids cried, he was actually good at reading the cry’s instead of getting frustrated which always helped calm it down quickly and his little girl would always have a little cry when she’d wake up and think she’s all alone.

As soon as her daddy opened her nursery door the little girl stood up in her cot, balancing herself by gripping the railing to get a good look at who was coming towards her. once the morning light was shining in from Harry opening her curtains the tears stopped and a sniffling nose and big gummy grin was shining on her face, a contagious smile at that.

“Good morning sunshine!” the man raised his voice a few octaves, a big grin on his face as he picked her up from her bed giving her a nice hug as he swayed back and forth. “Did yeh have a good sleep, miss ginger? You look very beautiful this morning my girl, always take your shirt off when yeh sleep don’t ya’ silly girl? I get it girlfriend, sometimes you gotta let it breathe babe. C’mon think it’s time for a nappy change and a bottle hmm?” the little girl giggled at her father, bouncing in his arms and babbling incoherently whilst her dad cleaned her up and got her ready for her morning feed.

Harry set the baby in her bouncer, putting the milk into her bottle checking the temperature on his wrist before giving it to the still topless baby. It was easier to just leave it off during the morning snack, she was a rather messy little girl since she always wanted to hold her own bottle now often letting it dribble onto her tummy as she removed the nipple from her mouth to babble at her father. She always had a lot to say, even if no one but her knew what she was on about, no one had created a baby talk translation app yet so until then her passionate rants wouldn’t be understood.

Alfie was at an age where he wanted to be independent more, he reminds everyone how he’s a big boy, whenever he puts his own dish in the washer or screws the top onto his sippy cup by himself. Both his parents found it absolutely adorable and humorous as well.

__

When Harry heard the pitter patter of his wife coming down the stairs around 45 minutes after he’d got the kids up, a soft smile etched itself onto his face. He swears every time he sees her, no matter what state she’s in he still finds her breathtakingly gorgeous. Angelic even. Even when he had pulled Alfie out of her as she pushed, he still found her beautiful. Nothing would ever change the love and attraction he felt for his wife.

“Mornin’ love, sleep well?” the man brought his wife into his arms, giving her a warm hug and a kiss on the crown of her head. “Mhm, thank you for gettin’ up with the kids so I could get a few extra minutes of rest. Love yeh h.” she stood on her toes to peck his lips, this far into a relationship and being parents a slightly morning breathy kiss didn’t bother them in the slightest. After you’ve changed some ungodly diapers, smells don’t affect you the same anymore.

“no problem, had an easy morning Alfie was good about brushing his teeth and me and Rosie had a nice cuddle. She woke up shirtless again, I’m starting to get her vibe think I might start just being half naked all the time.” Y/n chuckled at her husband, sipping her tea slowly before responding. “At least it was just her top this time, last week when I got her up she had taken everything off. Had to do an extra load of wash after that one. Silly little girl.”

The couple could fawn over their kids for an infinite amount of time, but a thud from the living room disrupted their banter. The two wore matching raised eyebrows while venturing into the room, being met with the sight of Rosie’s bottle tossed at the wall and the girl herself holding her feet up with her little hands in a split position while still strapped into her bouncer chair.

“Hey missy, throwing things isn’t nice. C’mon time to get dressed, can’t have nakey babies crawling in the garden can we? Neighbors might think we aren’t watchin’ after yeh well enough.” Her mother unstrapped her, bringing her to her chest to kiss her cheeks, her father deciding to chime in, “I think with that chubby tummy and those chunky thighs they’ll know our girl is more than taken care of.”

y/n bounced the baby in her arms, cooing at her and mocking Harry’s words with a baby voiced ‘is that true?! Rosie are you a chunky lady?’ which got them a chorus of baby laughs from the infant.

 Once y/n got both of her little ones changed as well as herself cleaned up and changed for the day, she took them back downstairs where their father was sitting on the couch glancing between his phone and the tv screen as he shoveled some cereal into his mouth.

Alfie made a b-line for his dad, excited to show him the outfit his mother had dressed him in for the day.

“Daddy! Daddy look! I got clothes on, mummy says I look handsome! Look I got turtles on my socks, daddy look!”  the little boy was over the moon about his clothes. Y/n had chosen some toddler size sweatpants, Alfies favorite t-shirt- a Gucci one Harry had got him which his wife thought was insane to dress a messy 3 year old in a 250 pound shirt, but their son loved it because his father wore the same brand- and some socks with little turtles as the print on them. It was going to be a pretty chill day at home so there was no need for fancy clothes.

“Oh my gosh! Bud you look very handsome, look at my dapper boy! Gimme five, big guy” Harry held his palm in the air, his son jumping to smack his much smaller one to his fathers, beaming from all the praise he’d gotten from his doting parents.

When Harry looked over at his wife holding his daughter his smile got even bigger. There stood his beautiful bride, clad in a pair of his black socks she liked to steal, some comfy adidas sweats and a t-shirt Harry had given her years ago. Her hair was in a sloppy bun, lips slightly shiny with some lip balm and only one earring in since Rosie had snatched the other stud from her right ear and tossed it somewhere Y/n too caught up in her children to even remember to take the second one out even after 2 weeks going by now.

His daughter was in a yellow polka dot onesie and her hair was in a little whale spout on the top of her head. His girl’s looked stunning in even the simplest of clothes, they were his angels and he adored them.

“And look at you girls! Little red head, you look dashing in that onesie! Red carpet ready my girl. And you miss yummy mummy, are stunning today. C’mere I want kisses from my ladies don’t be stingy.”

Y/n couldn’t help but laugh at her husband, even when she looked like she lived in a alley behind a gas station he still made a point to make her feel beautiful. Of course, she adored the way her husband talked to their baby girl too, they had a long talk while she was pregnant with her where Harry vowed to always build up their daughter from infancy till the day he died. No matter how old she is, what she was wearing, if she was covered in gunk from the sandbox or in her future prom dress, he promised to always let her know she was beautiful and loved. Harry never wanted his kids to feel any less than supported, validated and loved.

 It was around 1 in the afternoon when Rosie woke up from her first nap, nursing while Y/n and Harry sat together on the couch playing with Alfie and his blocks. The family had a quick bite to eat, hanging out just enjoying each other’s company. Y/n handed their daughter to Harry for him to burp her so she could refill Alfie’s sippy cup and grab both her and Harry some water.

After distributing the beverages she sat on the floor, playing with both her kids and holding Rosie up by her hands so she could dance around in her mothers grip. She loved to dance, she was always on the move crawling full speed everywhere and always squirming whenever she heard her fathers music.

Today the little girl had more in store for her parents, taking them both of them by surprise when she hoisted herself up to cruse holding onto the couch before looking right at her mother suddenly taking her first steps towards her.

Harry and Y/n both gasped, eyes wide and mouths showing huge grins while starting to cheer their baby on waving their hands and praising her whilst the baby took wobbly steps to her mom flopping into her chest before she was lifted in the air and spun around, excited cheers from the entire family as they celebrated her milestone.

“You’re walkin’ now Rosie! My big girl! Oh my gosh I’m so proud of you princess!”

Y/n tossed her into the air gently, catching her then setting her back on her feet letting her walk to her dad who was now in full blown celebration mode hands waving in the air while he cheered. His little girl toddled towards him, squealing as he scooped her up and kissed all over her face.

These were the moments he dreamed about his whole life, and he swears the dream didn’t even compare to the reality now. He’s never been happier.

[dwellordream]

“Girls’ schools promoted an intense female peer culture which contrasted with the disciplines of moralistic home environments. Evidence from the accounts of girls attending the myriad female seminaries and girls’ boarding schools throughout the Northeast suggests that their academic programs were relatively gentle, and that their peer culture was powerful and often fun. Despite the best efforts of outnumbered teachers, relations with friends tended to overshadow lessons learned. Overwhelmingly when girls wrote home to their parents, they described the girls they had met, and the antics they had shared; in diaries they noted the romantic intimacies they had formed, with academic work generating only occasional mention.

Girls’ peer life at school was high-spirited, collective, and ritualized all at once. Teachers themselves often participated. At Miss Porter’s in Farmington, Connecticut, in 1860, teachers organized a costume party, suggested characters for everyone, and helped sew costumes—perhaps in part a sewing lesson. (For Lily Dana, suggestions included an elf, Mischief, or a witch.) At a Prospect Hill School party in 1882, townspeople came, the girls wore flowers and white dresses, and Margaret Tileston reported that she had done the quadrille with Miss Clarke and the gallop with Miss Tuxbury—concluding that she had had ‘‘a very nice time.’’

Girls remembering their days at convent schools report similar good times. Julia Sloane Spalding recalled elegiacally her years at Nazareth Academy, a school run by the Sisters of Charity in Louisville, Kentucky, in the 1850s. ‘‘The sisters allowed us to romp and play, dance and sing as we pleased and our stage performances were amusing, if they had no greater merit. Musical soirees, concerts, serenades and minstrelsy kept our spirits attuned to gladness. Varied by picnics, lawn parties, hayrides, phantom parties, nutting parties in summer and candy pullings and fancy balls with Nazareth’s colored band to fiddle.’’

Exclaimed Spalding, ‘‘O what fun!’’ in fond reflection on the good times among the sisters who served ‘‘good substantial sandwiches, cakes and fruit’’ from ‘‘great big baskets.’’ She concluded, ‘‘and so, the spice of life conduced to our health and happiness.’’ Mary Anne Murphy arrived at Nazareth Academy with her sister in 1859 during a quadrille, the slave musicians calling out the figures. She and her sister stood in ‘‘wonderment that such fun was tolerated in a convent.’’ Whatever the nostalgia of middle age, certainly these reflections suggest that elite Catholic and Protestant girls’ academies left some of their richest memories in collective fun.

If teachers sponsored some activities, they implicitly sanctioned many more. Wilfrida Hogan attended the Sisters of St. Joseph convent school in St. Paul in the 1870s and remembers fondly her class, which was known for its lively irreverence: ‘‘Each girl seemed to view the other as to who could play the biggest pranks, or have the most fun.’’

Ellen Emerson overflowed with delight in a letter to her mother (significantly, not her father) while at Miss Sedgwick’s School in Lenox, Massachusetts: ‘‘Every night we do things which it seems to me I can never remember without laughing if I should live to be a hundred. The most absurd concerts, ludicrous charades, peculiar battles etc. etc. Then the wildest frolics, the loudest shrieks, the most boisterous rolling and tumbling that eye ever saw, ear ever heard or heart ever imagined. I consider myself greatly privileged that every night I can see and join such delightful romps.’’

When teachers were around, the pranks were more likely to occur upstairs in student bedrooms. Lily Dana and friends joined together to victimize two other girls by putting crumbs in their bed, and cutting off candle wicks. Another evening Dana noted that she ‘‘Had some fun throwing pillows and nightgowns,’’ and though Miss Porter caught her, it did not seem to dampen much her spirits. Teachers at girls’ schools were occasion- ally disciplinarians, clearly.

One teacher told Lily Dana that ‘‘she supposed my mother let me do everything,’’ and the sisters at St. Mary’s Academy in South Bend, Indiana, turned the piano to the wall in order to keep girls from waltzing with each other. Yet students often emerged victorious; at St. Mary’s they played combs for dance music instead. (One participant reported that ‘‘the Sisters had to give up, for they knew not what to do.’’) The ideology of nurture combined with the shared exuberance of age mates overpowered much teacherly remonstrance.

It is sometimes hard to read such tales of schoolgirl exuberance without wondering whether the inmates had taken over the asylum, however, so a corrective is in order. One such account which requires a second look is the spirited account of Agnes Repplier, In Our Convent Days (1906), about her time in the late 1860s at a Pennsylvania school run by the Sisters of the Sacred Heart. Repplier writes of the pranks and passions of her band of seven partners in crime, in an ebulliant account designed to appeal to a readership newly attracted to childhood naughtiness in revolt against Victorian propriety. It is clear in retrospect, though, that she must have concealed or minimized an- other side to her experiences. For the denouement of her story is her expulsion and removal from a school she adored.

Peer cultures could also be cruel and hurtful beyond the control of evangelical teachers, as the practices of hazing in British public schools testify. Some of the most painful memories of inclusion and exclusion in girls’ schools centered around that most primal of media, the sharing of food. Food boxes, customarily sent from home, were the occasion for impromptu parties, a demonstration of wealth and taste, or an opportunity to play favorites.

The elation which greeted such arrivals might well prove a commentary on the regular fare at boarding schools, which sometimes undoubtedly was very poor. (The advice giver Mary Virginia Terhune’s critique of girls’ boarding schools included the accusation that they fed their students from a ‘‘common vat’’ which supplied breakfast, dinner, and supper all together, a practice partially confirmed by one account of eating the same stew at least twice a day at an Ursuline academy in San Antonio in the 1890s.)

At any rate, the arrival of food from home occasioned select gatherings and provided opportunities for discrimination among friends. When one friend’s mother brought good things to eat, Josie Tilton noted that ‘‘we’’ had a feast tonight, explaining for the future who she would always mean when she said ‘‘we’’—‘‘Lizzie, Emma, May and I’’— the groupness secured by inclusion in this select group of diners.

Lily Dana suspected a friend of being miserly and so snuck into her room to inspect. ‘‘There was a box which had been filled with cake, part of a pie and several other things filling her trunk nearly half full. . . . If I had a box sent to me I think I should give my friend more than ‘five or six cookies.’’’ If girls could feel short-changed by each other, relations with parents could also strain over the sending of food boxes, which represented extremely conspicuous con- sumption for girls attempting to ‘‘belong.’’

In an unusually direct letter home in the 1840s, Maria Nellis passed on to her parents her unmediated hurt and sense of disadvantage in the competition for food—and the status that came with it. Elizabeth got her box yesterday and was favoured with six times more things than I was. Her box was so large and heavy the master found it his match to carry it upstairs. She has 4 kinds of cake, nuts, apples, candy, clothing and every thing else, but after all, Dear Poppy, I am not jealous. . . . When you sent that box you did not send half what I asked. I was very disappointed. You said it would be eatables, but it wasn’t. You sent only a few apples, one cake and some clothes. Why didn’t you send me some nuts? I haven’t had a nut yet this winter, and indeed I expected nuts above all things. E. Fox had a box worth speaking of. Now that shows that you don’t care enough for me to even send me a few nuts.

Intermittently, Nellis regained control, but her grievance was palpable. Finally at the end, she acknowledged to her parents that she might be hurting their feelings, reassured them that she loved them all with ‘‘a deep and fervent love,’’ and promised better behavior in the future. Clearly at stake for her was both status in the school world and a primitive sense of deprivation in her own family.

As the correspondence suggests, the emotional atmosphere in girls’ boarding schools was not only intense but more expressive and enacted than that within moralistic, Victorian households. Within private, female, boarding academies, duty-bound Victorian daughters learned languages of sentiment, desire, and emotional excess censored from other parts of their lives. The elaborate conventions accompanying the expression and affirmation of affection among boarding-school girls, sometimes involving teachers as well, was indeed a separate ‘‘female world of love and ritual,’’ as Carroll Smith-Rosenberg affirmed in a classic article about nineteenth-century women’s culture.

In recent years, Smith-Rosenberg’s ‘‘Female World of Love and Ritual’’ has been attacked for its overgeneralizing characterization of an exclusively female emotional sphere in the nineteenth century, but her strongest evidence confirms the significance, the power, and the longevity of girls’ boarding school friendships, which were enacted through elaborate rituals in a range of schools.

The rituals of boarding school life centered around the making and breaking of special friendships, known variously as ‘‘affinities,’’ ‘‘specials,’’ or ‘‘darlings’’ and increasingly as either ‘‘smashes’’ or ‘‘crushes.’’ One way of expressing interest was to ‘‘filipine’’ with someone, to leave her a surprise gift outside her door. (When Lily Dana was caught, she needed to give her gift, a large apple, outright.) Such relationships played out in diaries, letters, and the poetry of autograph books. Girls expected to pair up for many school activities and entertained a variety of ‘‘dates’’ with different girls for walking, going to church, and sleeping.

Sally Dana wrote home to her mother explaining that she was following her father’s advice not to form special friendships too soon, and so had ‘‘slept in eight different beds.’’ During these private moments, girls would share secrets about their own likes and dislikes, each other, their teachers, families, and their school lives. The intricacy of such social calendars opened ample opportunities for misunderstanding and frayed feelings.

These peer relationships characterized elite female seminaries in the North- east, but they also appeared in a range of schools, including the African American Scotia Seminary, founded by the American Missionary Association in Concord, North Carolina, following the Civil War. Scotia had northern roots, which may have influenced its student culture. Glenda Gilmore tells us it was modeled on Mount Holyoke, and was ‘‘calculated to give students the knowledge, social consciousness, and sensibilities of New England ladies, with a strong dose of Boston egalitarianism sprinkled in.’’

Roberta Fitzgerald went to Scotia in the early twentieth century and kept a composition book, likely in 1902, which was filled with the talismans of schoolgirl crushes. A note inside addressed to ‘‘Dear Roberta’’ asked, ‘‘Will you please exchang rings with me today and you may ware mine again,’’ and Roberta herself wrote a sad poem to a friend ‘‘Lu’’ who had thrown her over.

And so you see as I am deemed

Most silently to wait

I cannot but be womanlike

And meekly await my fate.

Ah! sweet it is to love a girl

But truly oh! how bitter

To love a girl with all your heart

And then to hear ‘‘Cant get her.’’

And Lulu dear as I must here

Relinquish with a moan

May your joys be as deep as the ocean

And your sorrow as light as its foam.

On the back of the notebook, which also contained class assignments, was a confidence exchanged with a seatmate. ‘‘I was teasing Bess Hoover about you and she told me she loved you dearly.’’

For those much in demand, this charged atmosphere of flirtation and intimacy in the North and South represented an exhilarating round of fun and sport. For those less secure, diaries and letters presented an obvious outlet for the anguish of the neglected. Agnes Hamilton, a member of a Fort Wayne clan which sent several daughters to boarding school on their way to prominent careers in progressive America, experienced some of both. Sometimes she basked in the glow of family reputation; often she worried over her own inability to keep up with her illustrious cousins. Her unusually detailed accounts document an entire school culture rather than just an individual emotional life.

Hamilton’s first impressions of school social life at Miss Porter’s School were favorable, but even these revealed insecurities to come. In an entry from November 1886, when she was seventeen, Hamilton noted that ‘‘Farmington is just as perfect as they all said it would be, the girls, Miss Porter, and all.’’ Her reservation had to do with her own imperfections: ‘‘But I don’t think I am the right sort of a Farmington girl.’’ Even so, Agnes was in demand, describing a flurry of close attentions from numerous girls. A week later, in her cousin’s absence, she received displaced attentions:

Yesterday Mannie was very nice to me. I suppose she thinks I am lonely without Alice. We walked past the fill around by the river to the graveyard. Then she came in and we talked for an hour. All evening we were together. This afternoon we walked together too for Tuesday is her day with Alice. We went down to the green house where Mannie gave me some lovely roses. I would give anything to know what she thinks of me. . . . Will I ever be able to talk and be jolly as other girls? Some girls are frightfully stupid and yet they can make themselves somewhat agreeable. I have struck up a sudden friendship with Lena Farnam. We were together Saturday afternoon and evening and Sunday I asked her to be my church girl in Alice’s place.

Agnes was still in a position to be picky, noting one drawback: Lena ‘‘seems very nice indeed but I wish she were not only fifteen.’’ Lena was far from the only prospect. Agnes noted another new friend: ‘‘I have seen a great deal lately of Edith Trowbridge too. When she overcomes her shyness she will be exceedingly nice.’’ Not surprisingly, with all the intensity of the socializing, Agnes mentioned with no comment that only three out of thirteen in the class were prepared for their lessons that Tuesday. In those early weeks, Agnes Hamilton’s enthusiasm for this exciting life of emotional intrigue was palpable. The next week (she seems to have written on Tuesdays), Agnes announced to her diary ‘‘the jolliest crush in school’’ involving one of her very own intimates of the week before.

‘‘I walked with Edith Trowbridge this afternoon, on purpose to have her tell me about Lena. I hinted and hinted in vain. I told her about every other crush in school but she never said a word about Lena’s, so at last I told her that I knew all about it but even then she would not say a word about the subject. I hope she will tell Lena so that she will speak to me about it next Saturday when we are driving.’’ The triangulation of such relationships increased the possibilities for intrigue. Agnes wearied a bit of the uncooperative Edith, though, observing that though ‘‘very nice . . . she did not get over her stiffness.’’

Agnes Hamilton seemed to be trying to do her schoolwork, but her roller- coaster social life intervened. One day when she was preparing for class, a friend came by to teach her a dance step, from which she was interrupted by the arrival of a buggy she had rented to take another friend for a ride, the same girl whose ‘‘jolly’’ crush had amused her the week before. (‘‘The more I see of her the better I like,’’ she now reported. ‘‘Her face is rather attractive at first and then it grows on one.’’) When she returned, she found another visitor who stayed till it was time for tea.

The result: ‘‘I have not looked at my Mental since Thursday.’’ By the end of the same day, yet a new ‘‘crush’’ had taken over when Agnes got word of someone’s interest in her, and Agnes wondered ‘‘if I have ever been as actively happy.’’ The frenzy had settled down a week later, when Agnes announced that she had all her walking days ‘‘just as I want them.’’ Each day of the week was assigned a different companion, with whom Agnes would exchange intimacies and gossip, using the rituals of girls’ school life to structure its emotional extravagance.

One must conclude that the intensity of the social life was seen to serve some purpose, for evidence suggests that it was allowed to flourish until the turn of the century. (Lily Dana noted that Miss Porter’s permission had been sought for at least one and probably more sleeping dates.) At that time, new sexualized interpretations of girls’ and women’s friendships brought a crackdown on such friendships. At the time, though, they appear to have received official sanction. In fact, one of the first of Ladies’ Home Journal ’s ‘‘Side Talks with Girls’’ took up the question of ‘‘School Girl Friendships.’’ The Journal endorsed such girlish relationships for their innocence and energy and their precious brevity, saluting ‘‘the giddy, gushing period’’ as one which ‘‘never comes to some and to most it soon passes.’’

In particular, it contrasted this girlish spontaneity with the superficiality of the jaded young lady. Its contrast of ‘‘young girls, lively, radiant, energetic, spirited, loving girls’’ with ‘‘young ladies who talk of their beaux, dresses and the surface shows of society’’ represented another version of a conventional warning against precociousness. Girls’ crushes on other girls were still perceived as innocent and healthy—and would be well after doctors first began to cast suspicion over such relationships in the 1880s and 1890s.”

- Jane H. Hunter, “Competitive Practices: Sentiment and Scholarship in Secondary Schools.” in How Young Ladies Became Girls: The Victorian Origins of American Girlhood

[kalaluchi]

chapter 04: Best Friends

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When Marinette was a kid, she’d once heard someone say that having a boyfriend is just like having a best friend, but with added perks.

And while she couldn’t relate with the statement (at the moment), she could see that, in a similar sense, there was a fine line between things you do with someone because they’re your best friend and you’re just that close; and things you do with someone because you like them and want to get closer… and them showing the same interest in doing those things miiight mean they could like you, too.

Marinette was beginning to think she’d been using this fine line as a jump rope these past few weeks.

In theory, she should have no problem doing best-friend-stuff.

Chatting till early in the morning? Daily routine for her and Alya, especially when the latter got her hands on the latest scoop.

Video calls while doing homework? Marinette forgot what it was like to work without the face of her best friend, her face mirroring Marinette’s own tiredness.

Movie nights with the full package: face masks, popcorn, and 5 different types of candy? Every Saturday, starting at 9pm sharp.

But for some reason, when it came to doing those things with Adrien Agreste, she would just… freeze up and start overthinking every little thing. She has no idea why.

(Absolutely a lie. She knows exactly why.)

She was not one to deny her obvious crush on the blond-haired boy. Most times, her day is made by just one smile sent her way. But other times, when she’s actually able to hold a conversation with him (over chat, of course; she could never not stutter if it were face-to-face), it feels… normal. The talks are casual, like they’ve known each other forever. The butterflies in her stomach are quieter than usual, and she can say, with absolute certainty, that the famous model feels nothing special for the simple baker’s daughter, because Marinette Dupain-Cheng and Adrien Agreste are destined to be the best of friends and nothing more. (Sadly, in her opinion.)

And then. He goes and surprises her with a, “Hey, are you free Friday night? I was wondering if you wanted to go to the movie theater with me. They’re playing reruns of episodes from that show we were talking about the other week.”

Marinette collapsed on her bed with a groan. She checked the clock on her wall: 6:19pm. She’s supposed to meet Adrien in front of the bakery in a little over half an hour, but she still has no idea what to wear. Curse that beautiful, gorgeous boy. He never told her what the occasion was. Should she wear something casual, like a nice sweater and jeans? Something more dressy, like a cute skirt and flats? She gasps to herself. He doesn’t expect her to be fancy and show up in a cocktail dress and heels, right? He’s a model after all, that might be what he’s used too… what if it’s something even fancier than that-- how can she pull together an outfit like that at the drop of a hat--

You’re spiraling, she chided herself. She was tempted to call her best friend, but she knew what the brunette would say.

“Obviously, dress to impress! The knee-length dress you bought for my birthday party, I can lend you pearl earrings and a necklace, a little bit of lip gloss, and a purse to match. Pair it with flats so you don't look too eager.”

Marinette laughed quietly, imagining Alya giving that whole spiel.

Maybe she could just text Adrien to ask what he’s wearing.

The thought of him replying, “Just a shirt and jeans. This is just a chill movie-with-a-friend date after all. Why, did you think it meant anything more?” was enough to make her chicken out (even though he’d never actually say that), so she decided to just wear a shirt, skirt, sneakers, and the cardigan he made for her.

If he asks, I can just say I always dress like this going out with my friends!

This was going to be a disaster.

.

.

.

“Oh. Wow. You look.” Adrien cleared his throat. “You look very nice, Marinette.”

At 7:05pm, she found him standing outside their bakery, as discussed. She waved shyly as she pulled the door shut, trying to ignore the not-so-subtle spying her parents were trying to from behind the bakery’s counter.

“You look quite nice yourself,” she managed to say. Even though her brain wanted to scream how beautiful he looked in his black polo and jeans. (At least she’d been right to dress half-dressy half-casual.)

“Shall we?” he said jokingly, holding out his arm expectantly. She laughed nervously, and looped her arm through his after a pause..

Best friends definitely link arms as they walk to the theater...right?

“Hm, it’s a little chilly, isn’t it?” she said as they made their way down the street. In truth, though, her cheeks were burning from the close contact.

“Yeah, good thing you wore a cardigan. Should we get popcorn?”

“For sure. Butter at the bottom, in the middle, and on top is the way to go.”

“No way! Cheese is totally better. Whoever thought of putting it on popcorn was brie-lliant.”

Marinette groaned. “That was even cornier than popcorn,” she complained.

“Well, I’m no Swiss master,” Adrien quipped, “sorry if my jokes are full of holes. Is it enough to make you feel bleu?”

There it is again, Marinette thought, as the friendly banter continued until they were in their seats. While she found his puns unusually endearing, the butterflies were quiet and her heart wasn't racing like she’d thought it would be.

Annoyingly, they came right back as she sat back, studying his profile while the show’s theme song played in the background.

Miraculous, the luckiest!

Her heart gave a little squeeze as he mouthed the words, bouncing in his seat excitedly, all his attention on the big screen.

Damn, he’s so cute. The thought flew through her head before she could stop it, and that was when she knew for sure.

The power of love, always so strong!

What started out as a little crush had leveled up into something waaay more, though it was too early -- far too early -- to call it love.

After the reruns, they decided to grab ice cream and sit at one of the park benches before heading back.

“What did you think of that last episode?” Adrien asked, licking the mint gelato on a cone.

Marinette looked down at her own strawberry-flavored one. “I think… the main characters were too dumb. I mean, they just… fit so well, you know? Why prolong getting together?” She grinned at him and pointed the cone in his direction. “The ending made up for it though. They were so berry cute in that last scene.”

Adrien was unable to respond for a second, shocked that Marinette had made a pun.

(She thought she could see a blush starting to form, too, but she told herself it was just the lighting of the park.)

He recovered in a heartbeat, though. “You’re right. They were definitely mint to be.”

“Okay, that was probably the corniest one this entire night,” she giggled, playfully rolling her eyes. (It was actually cute and surprisingly funny, though, and she had to bite her lip to suppress a smile.)

Adrien held a hand to his heart. “I’m offended! That wasn’t very cool of you.”

Marinette frowned, though she knew he was joking. She opened her mouth to protest but the sound of his laugh stopped her. Her retort died in her throat as her heart did a little skip.

There was a pause as she felt the blush spread across her cheeks. It was long enough for Adrien to turn to her, an eyebrow raised, silently wondering about the sudden silence.

For half a second, Marinette considered saying something crazy.

‘You’re cute’? ‘I love how your eyes sparkle when you laugh’?

“Sorry for dissing your pun,” she muttered lamely instead, turning away.

He chuckled lightly and stood. “Let’s head back,” he suggested, smiling.

She simply nodded, thinking of a million things she wants to say.

They made their way back to the bakery silently, breathing in the night air, gazing up at the stars. Once back at her door, Marinette faced Adrien and stuck her hand out for a friendly shake. “Thank you for tonight,” she said, back to her awkward self somewhat.

He smiled, remembering how their second meeting went something like this. He took her hand, but instead of shaking it, he chose to press a kiss to the back of it. “Thank you for tonight,” he echoed. “I had a lot of fun.” He waved, and walked to his car.

He turned back for a final wave, and then entered the back. The car pulled away, leaving Marinette all alone in front of the bakery, still reeling from the kiss.

Marinette wanted to scream. The fine line she’d been jump roping with was now blurred together completely, and she wasn’t sure the butterflies in her stomach would ever go away.

And surprisingly, she found that she was completely okay with that.

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[coffee--writes]

Cherry

Pairing: Lily Evans x Reader

Word Count: 2.4k 

Warnings: Angsty but nothing more

Requested: No. It is a song fic for Cherry by Harry Styles. I would also like to say the music notes headers are to show the instrumental portions of the song which I believe add to the fic. 

Summary: In which, you struggle to move on from you and Lily’s past relationship. 

♪-♪-♪-♪-♪-♪

The cool air bit at your neck under the willow tree that day. 

Leaves fell majestically by your side as you faced the cold, a scarf around your shoulders, mittens covering your palms and boots on your feet. 

But although your body was protected from the bitter chill of November, nothing could save you from the frigid emptiness inside your mind. 

It seemed Lily Evans had made a large indentation in your life. 

For worse or for better. 

Don’t you call him “baby” 

We’re not talking lately

Don’t you call him what you used to call me

James Potter. 

Oh, how you had hated him. 

You remembered his pestering presence. Each and every Hogsmeade trip you and Lily had spent together was always greeted with glasses and a smirk you had grown to hate but Lily would grow to love. 

At first you had been angry. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that James Potter fancied Lily Evans. He didn’t try to hide it, in fact he was proud to be rejected by her. But months later, when Lily had moved on, you realized you couldn’t blame him. No one had known of those secret moments shared between you and Lily Evans. No one knew of the stolen kisses in hidden corridors, the late night rendezvous in the kitchen or the hands that were intertwined under the table. James Potter hadn’t known that those days he spent pestering were more than just an outing with a friend. 

You couldn’t stay mad at him. 

It wouldn’t have been fair. 

But you were angry and that had been the problem. You couldn’t be mad at James for his ignorance. There were days you desperately wished you could be mad at Lily Evans. She had always insisted on keeping your relationship a secret. Few people knew of the love shared between the two of you. Only Lily’s trusted friends. She had insisted yours would tell someone in the end. 

Begrudgingly, you had agreed to her words. Most of your relationship was spent in secret or in the confidence of Mary, Marlene, and Dorcas, who you soon grow to love dearly. You knew now that Lily hadn’t been fair. But yet, you couldn’t find the power to be angry with her. 

So you stayed angry at yourself. 

A month had gone by since you had ended things and the few glimpses you saw of Lily she was linked hand in hand with James. You watched as he pressed kisses to her cheeks in front of the world, tucking her cherry red hair behind her ear. They always sat tucked away in the corner, surrounded by ever growing flowers. No matter how far away from them you were you could always hear her whispers to him. That magical word that used to belong to you and only you. 

“Baby” she would say, her lips forming the vowels perfectly. 

And each time the word was said James Potter would smile and you would only look away, your mind lingering back to those moments when she had called you hers. 

I… I confess

I can tell that you are at your best

I’m selfish so I’m hating it 

Walking down the sun lit halls had become bittersweet. 

For there she was, walking side by side with James Potter, a large smile on her face. You hadn’t seen that smile in a long time. In the beginning it had always been there. Her smile was beautiful, a perfect compliment to that cherry red hair that you loved so deeply.  You had loved that you were the person who got to see it the most. 

But now James saw it every hour of every day as you had once before. Maybe he thought about it each night as he went to sleep as you had done and continued to do each night. Lily’s smile had left you a long time ago and now it seemed to have returned. 

And although her smile produced a warm feeling in the pit of your chest, your mind wallowed in a bitter cold due to the fact that she was smiling without you. Her figure disappeared from view and that selfish pit turned into a bitter hatred towards yourself. 

You were happy for Lily. 

At least you were trying to be. 

I notice that

There’s a piece of you in how I dress

Take it as a compliment 

Lily had buried herself deeper than you had thought. 

It became clear to you when you had shuffled through your collection of clothes. Your typical outfit consisted of frayed jeans and a cardigan; a basic look. Today you were going to Hogsmeade and although you were going with a friend you decided to get dressed up for the occasion. 

That was when you had noticed the floral pattern that had once littered your floor. 

Lily had loved sundresses. You remembered shopping hours looking for the perfect one. “It has to match my hair and eyes.” she would say. Each time you would roll your eyes but in reality she had always looked gorgeous in every one she tried on. She had soon pestered you into buying one. 

“Come on, Y/N/N. You’ll look amazing in the flower one.” 

So you had tried it on and the pattern had grown on you. It didn’t help that her face always lit up when you wore it. Now she was gone and you could only stare at the blue flower petals that blossomed on the contrasting white of the fabric. Time was ticking and you wouldn’t let thoughts of her spoil your day. 

You slipped on the dress quickly. 

You couldn’t deny she had amazing taste. 

Don’t you call him “baby” 

We’re not talking lately 

Don’t you call him what you used to call me 

Her actions hurt. 

Ignoring you, that was. 

Very few people questioned the drifting friendship between you two. Before you would walk together, side by side, hips bumping each other softly. Now, you walked opposite ends of the corridor, those emerald green eyes never meeting yours. 

In a way it was a blessing. The lack of words between you and her. You knew deep down that if you had to look into those eyes again or watch the freckles on her face dance that your chilled exterior would soon fall apart. You’d remember those nights spent in the greenhouses watching as the magical lunar flowers budded in the streaks of moonlight. You’d recall the music you once danced to in your home over the summer as the sun set in the English countryside. 

Emerald green eyes and cherry red hair would lead you to remember every kiss and every study date. Days spent in grassy fields on sunny days or stormy nights cuddled by the fire. You were even reminded of the smallest things like the exchanging of books, a tap to the nose and long conversations that were lost in the void of the night. Memories would flood your mind and you would soon drown in their depth. 

For once, you were thankful to be ignored. 

♪-♪-♪-♪-♪-♪

Lily had been your only friend. 

That was a slight exaggeration but it felt that way. You talked to other people and they were kind. But none of them had the connection you and Lily had once shared. Without her by your side it was as if you were travelling with only half a heart. Half a soul. Lily had acted as your compass and without her you lost all sense of direction. 

So you watched her from the window. 

There she was, laughing loudly alongside Potter and his friends. Their feet left prints on the shore of the lake. They splashed at her, an act that a younger Lily would have scolded them for. But she looked so happy, a smile shining bright for her beloved Potter. Your hand rested on your chin and a sad smile made its way to your face. 

Their laughs echoed in the blank slate of your mind. 

I... I just miss 

I just miss your accent and your friends 

Did you know I still talk to them? 

Today was one of the rare moments you felt completely at peace. 

Marlene, Mary, and Dorcas walked at your sides, small smiles on their lips. You hadn’t seen them in a while as they had always been closer to Lily and you knew they preferred her company. But even after you and Lily had fallen off they had acted as your friends. 

After walking down the cobblestone streets of Hogsmeade you finally asked the question that hung at the tip of your tongue. “How is she?” 

All their eyes averted to the ground. Marlene was the first one to speak up, nervously playing with the ends of her blonde hair, “Good.” she said simply, “She seems to be doing good.” 

Her words were confirmed by a nod from Mary and a sigh from Dorcas. You nodded in return, pushing your hands into your pockets, “Is she happy?” 

Marlene smiled sadly, “Yeah.” she replied, “Very.” 

“Good.” was the only answer you supplied. 

You could feel the peaceful day you had envisioned falling apart. Mentions of Lily sent your mind into a spiraling void of emotion in which you had hoped to avoid but instead you had wrestled the tiger head on. Unfortunately, the tiger had won. 

And now she was coming back to gloat. 

“Marls!”

You froze as did the three other girls. Her voice rang in your ears. You hadn’t heard it in a long time. At least not this clear. You could hear the sweet tone of her voice that no one else in the world seemed to hold. Each syllable, as melodious as a birds song. Mary’s eyes fell on you, watching as you shrunk away from the scene. 

Her voice was the last sound you heard as you walked away from the pain she embodied so deeply. 

Does he take you walking ‘round his parents’ gallery? 

Compared to James Potter you didn’t have much to offer. 

The Potters were a well-known family. Rich but humble. Pure but not prejudice. They were the picture perfect wizarding family with their abundance of talent and Quidditch skills being passed to their son; a bright boy with a knack for causing trouble. 

You weren’t anything special. A single mother who worked around the clock to keep you supported. An absent father who had left when you were a child. Your life wasn’t tragic but it was far from perfect. You could never offer Lily the world in her hands. Each gift came with a price; an extra hour of work for your mother, a summer job for you to work. 

Lily had always understood and she hadn’t asked for more than you could offer. She had appreciated the small things you would give her with a smile and a kiss. It was one of your favorite things about her. She had the unique ability to understand and be content whilst you felt pent up with your lack of wealth and inability to supply her with wonders. 

Surprisingly, whenever you passed her in the halls and saw the necklace Potter had bought her around her neck, you felt happy. Although anger always lingered in your heart, you were glad someone was able to give her what she deserved. 

It wasn’t you and you were slowly learning to accept that. 

Don’t you call him “baby”

We’re not talking lately

Don’t you call him what you used to call me 

Your final year at Hogwarts passed by in a blur. You watched Lily Evans slowly fall in love with the boy who had always wanted her. She smiled all the time now, her eyes never wandered towards yours and as much as it pained you that they didn’t, you hoped she had found peace. 

Don’t you call him “baby” 

We’re not talking lately 

Don’t you call him what you used to call me 

As for you, peace seemed to be out of question. 

Peace was watching her be happy with someone who wasn’t you. It was watching her relationship from afar and catching moments where the two of you had gone wrong but James had gotten it right. Even without her by your side, Lily Evans played a major role in your life. Your eyes always wandered into her life where you weren’t wanted anymore. 

You watched her take James to the end of year ball. His friends became her friends and she quickly took after them slightly. She owned a leather jacket and often studied with Remus in her spare time. She baked with Peter and you desperately wished that somewhere… somehow, you fit into the equation. 

But you didn’t. 

♪-♪-♪-♪-♪-♪

So you watched her graduate top of the year, cherry red hair blazing as she smiled. 

You read of her joining the Order of the Phoenix, Dorcas expressing her worries in the letters she sent. 

You stared emptily at the letter from Dorcas, sending news of James and Lily’s wedding. 

Nothing could move you off the floorboards of your flat. 

♪-♪-♪-♪-♪-♪

The morning of August 11th was foggy but in the hills of Scotland they were shining on a bride with cherry red hair and her groom. 

You hadn’t been invited to Lily’s wedding and for that you were grateful. You knew that today was the day. Dorcas and you had kept up correspondence and she knew you well enough to know that you were curious of Lily’s affairs. 

That morning you found yourself sitting in front of a box of memories. What stuck out to you was a tape. No label was on it but a small heart. Curiosity tickled your mind and after a minute you stuck the tape into the cassette player. 

First came the static. 

Then her voice. 

“Is it on?” you said, your voice coming through muffled on the speaker, “Yeah.” 

Her voice was muffled as well, but you knew it by heart. Her melodious laugh followed and just from that you could picture her hair, the color of cherries and her eyes sparkling like emeralds. “Well, Y/N… are you going to say something.” 

You froze, concentrating deeply to hear through the static, “I guess I’ll say… I love you Lily Evans!” 

She laughed and it was the realest thing you had heard in months, “You’re so cheesy, Y/N/N.” 

“Well, one day we’ll listen to this and you won’t be saying that.” you reply with a chuckle. 

“Alright. Alright. I guess we’ll say goodbye for now.” she said, her words burning in your mind. 

“Goodbye!” 

“Goodbye!” 

The static returned once more and the weight of the world seemed to fall on your shoulders.

 You finally let out a long-awaited sob.

♪-♪-♪-♪-♪-♪ 

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[starshard17]

Dukeceit Week | Day 7 | Let me be your First

Pairing : Romantic Dukeceit (Human AU)

Summary : "Can I have this dance?" "I've never danced before.." "Well then let me be your first."

--------

Janus sat beside the refreshment table, fidgeting uncomfortably. His friends had all ditched him to do something else at tonight's dance so he was left to be by himself, looking like an idiot in fancy dress which he bought specially for this occasion. He sighed, taking a sip from his red solo cup, staring at the ground sadly, a mask over his eyes, holes cut out to let him see. It was trimmed in gold glitter and was a bright golden color throughout.

There were a bunch of couples out on the dance floor, bodies pressed together and a multitude of colored masquerade masks floating around the room as a slow song played. Janus was never one for dancing, it just didn't really interest him. He crossed his feet, the heels of his shoes clacking together. He was just ready for tonight to be over with. He sat through the first song. Then another started playing. He groaned in exasperation, slumping back in his chair. He pulled the pin out of his hair, letting it fall down to rest on his shoulders. He pushed it back out of his face and tied it back into a low ponytail with the hair tie he had around his wrist. He played with the ruffles of his dress.

The melody of the song flowed through one ear and out the other. Oh how he wished his friends were here. He'd then at least have someone to talk to to satiate his hunger for fun.

Suddenly a hand appeared in front of his face. Janus glanced up, seeing a friendly face in front of him. He had thick, neon green hair and scruff on his chin and up his jawline. He wore a deep green suit and a bright green bowtie to match his hair. A black, bedazzled mask rested on his face, deep brown eyes peering out at him. Janus gulped.

"Can I have this dance?" He asked, his hand still outstretched to Janus. He swallowed his nerves, feeling a pit growing in his stomach.

"I-I've never danced before." Janus mumbled, adjusting the capelet around his shoulders and pulling his hair out over his shoulder to play with it. Anything to keep his hands busy. The boy snickered.

"Well then let me be your first." He offered.

Reluctantly, Janus took hold of the boy's hand and he quickly pulled him to his feet. He guided one of Janus' hands to his shoulder and he held the other one tightly. The boy then rested his free hand on Janus' hip, gently swaying with him.

His cheeks burned as he danced with this boy who he didn't even know the name of. He could tell he was doing something wrong. He didn't know where to place his feet or when to move so he let this mysterious man lead him the whole way. It seemed mesmerizing.

Enchanting.

"Who are you?" Janus blurted suddenly. He cursed at himself for ruining the moment before getting caught up in those beautiful brown eyes once more.

"My name is Remus Kingsley. And you would be?" He asked, gently swaying their bodies to the music. Janus swallowed the dry feeling that had built in his throat.

"Janus." He muttered, his voice barely audible.

"Hm?" Remus hummed. "I couldn't hear you mumbles." He teased, quirking up an eyebrow.

"Janus. Janus Bodae. That's my name." He stuttered. Remus smiled.

"That's very pretty." Remus complimented, his voice smooth like butter. A tone Janus melted at, gripping onto his hand tighter.

"T-Thank you!" Janus flushed, a smile crossing his face. He watched as the boy's face softened into a tranquil smile. As the song continued the two moved around the entire room before finding themselves in the center of the room. They looked into each others eyes, freezing in place. Remus' eyes seemed to shimmer as Janus watched them intently. They stood there, a small moat of free space surrounding them. Heads turned to look at the two and whispers were heard throughout the room.

Remus moved his arm to pull Janus close, pressing their bodies together.

"I bet you look absolutely ravishing underneath that mask." The boy chirped, his hold on Janus' hand tightening.

"You too." Janus responded, his face indefinitely turning impossibly red.

"How's someone as beautiful as you out here all by yourself?" He asked, a feeling of mystery oozing from him.

"My friends all stood me up, but I had already bought the dress so I decided to come anyways." Janus told him. Remus frowned, pulling his hand from Janus' like ripping the seams of a skirt. He instead rested the hand on the back of Janus' head and without warning, brought his head in close, kissing him fully on the mouth.

Janus' eyes widened in surprise, weakness flooding over him. He allowed himself to melt into the touch, closing his eyes and leaning against Remus.

As their lips parted Janus could feel the boy's breath against his lips, soft and quick. His eyes staring at Janus, half-lidded and still somehow sparkling brightly. Something about the music that played in the room and the look in Remus' eyes combined together made Janus' heart thump out of his chest.

"Lets get out of here. There are better places where we can spend our time. Agreed?" He asked. Janus snapped out of his dream state and looked up at Remus.

"Did you have a place in mind?" He asked, his heart beating faster and faster.

"Anywhere I can see that pretty face of yours without this mask in the way." Remus said with a small laugh and a smirk.

"Then lead the way." Janus told him. And everyone in the room watched as Janus was pulled out by the mysterious man he had just met that night, the music fading the further away they moved.

--------

Remus stopped in his tracks, staring up at the stars in the sky, the light of the moon glinting off of the black glitter on his mask. Janus watched him for a good while before moving a hand up to turn Remus' head to him. His eyes, wide and full of wonderment caught Janus' in their gaze and a soft smile spread across his face.

The boy rested his hand on Janus' cheek, then did the same with his other hand. And next thing Janus knew the boy was kissing him again, soft and full of love. Janus kissed back, moving up the other hand to hold his head. As they pushed their lips together, Remus moved Janus' mask up on his head before fulling pulling it off, gripping it tightly in one hand. Janus didn't seem to notice, or care however, tilting his head to the side a bit, effectively deepening the kiss.

Remus ran his hands down Janus' sides before eventually parting from him once again to finally get a view of his whole face. His skin was covered in lighter patches on one side and he had soft freckles littering his cheeks right under his eyes. There was prominent gold eyeshadow lining his eyes, one a yellowy green and the other a light hazel tint.

"You're pretty." Remus breathed out, seemingly at a loss for words. Janus let himself let out a light chuckle, moving his hands to grab Remus' mask before he stopped him.

"Am I not allowed to see you too?" He asked, his hands coming to rest on the boy's cheeks.

"I'm not half as pretty as you are, you'll be disappointed." Remus sulked, his hands resting on Janus' wrists. Janus gave him a sympathetic look before quickly slipping the mask up off of his face and into his hands. He was quick to turn his head away, avoiding eye contact.

"You should look at me." Janus told him, stepping a bit closer. While weary at first, Remus finally faced him. He was breathtaking. Deep, chocolate brown eyes. Thick green hair. Sleek eyeliner and purple eyeshadow. Beautifully structured face. A scar crossing from one cheek, over his nose, and onto the other. He was radiant.

"You thought a face as handsome as yours could disappoint me?" Janus snickered, running a hand up through Remus' fluffy hair. Remus smiled.

"Honestly I thought it would. But apparently I was wrong." He laughed out.

"I'm glad your friends ditched you tonight. I wouldn't have met you otherwise." Remus murmured against Janus' lips. Janus grinned, leaning a bit closer.

"I'm glad too." He agreed, kissing him sweetly.

"We should share our last dance together too y'know. Since we had your first tonight." Remus suggested after he pulled away. Janus thought on it.

"Alright pretty boy, as long as you take the lead." The two giggled and danced in the moonlight, sharing short kisses and words of love as they danced the night away.

[atombombbibunny]

I Knew Pt 1

Okay, I did it. Lets see if you like it. (Obviously as time goes by I will be removing the *NEW VERSION* in the title.)

But I just want you all to know, I Knew was scrapped and restarted, I was going to do this as yet ANOTHER sequel, but I felt like I would have been beating a dead horse by that point. But this idea festered and took over my life, I hope you guys like it. 

Words: 2046

Warnings: None

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

You were never one to fully get things right away. It took you years to figure out Rafael’s true feelings for you, and that’s exactly why you didn’t catch on to the fancy dinner he took you out to last weekend. Even when he was bending down on one knee, your mind was more focused on how great the food was, how it literally felt like it was melting in your mouth.

And again, even once you noticed him knelt next to you, you looked down at his shoe to see if it was untied, only then, truly then. Did you notice the diamond ring sitting gently on the velvet pillow.

Tears formed almost instantly in your eyes, you could barely hear the words slipping from Rafael’s shaking lips, but you could hear clear as day. “Will you marry me?” You practically tumbled out of the chair, it crashing to the side as you wrapped your excited, eager arms around his neck. “Yes!” You screeched most likely deafening Rafael in the process of giving your answer.

It was the happiest moment of your life.              

So why were you shaking almost violently in that damned burgundy dress? The one you had been wearing then. The dress you wore at the wedding. The dress.

“Funny seeing you here.” Rafael uttered behind you, you jumped before spinning to him, he was leaning against the wall next to you. “Very funny.” You mocked before turning back around to watch Daveed and Laurens first dance. “Why aren’t you in your seat?” You questioned, your eyes never leaving the couple. “Could ask you the same question.” He whispered close to your ear, causing you to shudder before inching away. “My chair is right there.” You nodded to the table you were seated at. “You are supposed to be at the head table.” He chuckled low, so low only you could hear it.

“You seemed lonely against this wall.” He teased, you wanted to elbow him in the ribs but instead clapped as the song finished and the two smiled towards the crowd. You turned to face Rafael who couldn’t help but look down at you adoringly.

This time everyone was making their way to your house, the one you and Rafael owned together, the one you picked out together a year after dating. You can still remember leaving your old place for the last time.

As you continued to welcome guest after guest into your house, hugging all the familiar faces you hadn’t seen in a while, you smiled but continued to shake.

Rafael placed a hand on your lower back, signaling he would take over the guest welcoming, giving you a minute to head to the bathroom. You gripped at the vanity and looked in the mirror, what was the big deal? This was a happy occasion.

After touching up your makeup you headed back down and smiled at the new guests in the house.

Your stomach growled in a painful manor; you placed your hand against it before heading to find a drink. Stepping towards the kitchen only to come almost face to face with him.

Daveed.

Music from the indoor venue bounced off the walls and echoed into the dark night, it was beautiful out, the stars shined brightly and there was only a gentle breeze moving through the trees. You could feel that familiar knot growing, but as the side door opened making the music louder in the night, you cleared your throat and shifted on the metal bench.

“Hey, I thought someone was missing.” Rafael noted as he touched the cold bench arm. “What are you doing out here?” He questioned; you could see he was also taking in the night. “Oh, I was just about to leave.” Rafael finished glancing around the outdoors. “Dance with me first?”

He had his arm wrapped around Laurens waist; his wedding ring almost gleaming off the potted lighting from the kitchen as he lifted his hand to take a drink from the crystal cup. You stood longer than you wanted to, you were aware that others were most likely watching you and wondering what you were doing.

You cleared your throat to snap yourself back into reality, smoothing your dress you waltzed over. “Um, I don’t remember inviting you.” You teased as you moved past him and Lauren, reaching for the whiskey sat in a crystal decanter. “Um.” He said back, watching you drop some ice in the glass and pour the liquid over it. “I don’t remember you being so high maintenance.” You let out a light scoff before spinning towards him. “What’s that supposed to mean?” You asked in mock offense, he made a vague gesture. “What’s with all of this, and this  crys-tial” He said in a poor snobbish accent.

You snorted and leaned against your counter. “This is a fancy night.” You practically muttered as you sipped at your drink. You were relieved that you weren’t the one to greet the two of them at the door, Lauren is known for her tight hugs and Daveed would have felt you shaking like a leaf the second his arm would have touch you. “But I’m glad you guys made it.” Your eyes flashed out of the kitchen to see Jasmine and Anthony arrive, a smile spread across your lips. “Excuse me.” You said before slipping out of the kitchen and began practically running towards Jasmine, dropping the glass on the table before your arms wrapped tightly around her torso. “I’m so glad you made it.” You muttered into her shoulder.

She squeezed back; these hugs you liked. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” She giggled after you finally released each other. Anthony came from behind her and placed a kiss on her cheek. “I feel like all we did was see you leading up to the wedding, then ‘poof’ you went and disappeared into dating life.” Anthony said nodding his head behind him to Rafael’s direction. “Yeah.” You swooned as you watched Rafael close the door, his tight navy-blue suit moving in time with him. He began to make his way over to you and the others.

One of his hands slid out of his pocket and interlocked with yours, he slid one finger against your ring finger, currently empty. Again, this was your signal, this time to go get your ring. You smirked as his fingers grazed your finger a few more times before you released your hand from his. “I’ll be right back.” You said stepping back from the group.

As you walked towards your stairs, Rafael began to ask everyone to the dining room so dinner could be served. You couldn’t help but feel eyes on you, as you stepped onto the first stair you glanced back to See Daveed watching you. His face was unreadable as Lauren pulled him along to the other room, you looked away and made your way upstairs. Something in your stomach churned once more.

Sliding the ring properly on, you couldn’t help but admire the pear shape of it sitting neatly on your finger. For years you had been talking about your favorite shape of engagement rings, you even followed a few places on your Instagram, you just never expected him to listen so intensely to your ramblings.

As you made your way back down to the people, you could hear the chatter and scattered laughter coming from the dining room. The memory of Daveed and Laurens wedding still sat freshly in your memories.

“What?” You gaped; Rafael shrugged. “What? Its gorgeous out here, there’s no one around, and you can still hear the music pretty clearly.” He said, his hands fiddling in his pockets.

You said no words, you only stood and hesitantly placed your arms around his neck, it felt like Rafael wasn’t actually expecting you to agree to this as his hands jumped out of their pockets and rested gently against your hips.

Like fate a rather fitting song began to play, ‘Joyful’ as the song started it was rather quiet, when the drums and bass hit loudly but still stayed in a slow tempo, you slowly moved your arms down his back, your chin now rested against his shoulder as you swayed against the cobblestone, your eyes closed as he held you closer to him.

You took in the music, the scent of him, you took in the moment.

You shook your head clear when the sliding door to the room opened and Rafael stood there, hands in his pocket once more, only again for one to be removed as he held it out for you. His future bride. You smiled gently, your diamond ring heavy hand sliding into his, he led you in like a princess.

“You can all obviously tell tonight is special, there’s no hiding that something like this has been done before.” Rafael started as you stood at the end of your table, Jasmine let out a gasp and covered her mouth, tears began to form. You scanned the rest of the room to see if any others were catching on.

Someone else had.

He sat.

His eyes staring again, it felt almost too painful to look at that you looked down, before squeezing Rafael’s hand and grinning up at him.

“I’d love for all of you to know. Y/N and I are engaged!” Rafael basically shouted out the last word due to his excitement, unexpectedly he dipped you down and kissed you excitedly on the lips causing you to laugh against the kiss as he swooped you back into your standing position.

Jasmine leapt from her seat and almost onto the table as she scrambled to your side, requesting to see the ring that now sat on your finger. A few others made their way to your side oo’ing and ahh’ing the ring and congratulating you. You felt the red flushing your face as you weren’t used to this amount of attention.

It was never something you enjoyed, you barely wanted to do tonight with so many people, but Rafael wanted everyone there for the happy news.

As everyone began sitting once more, dinner began to be served.

It wasn’t anything like the night of the proposal. You snickered to yourself before telling the rest of the table about how the proposal went.

The song faded away into the night sky, the silence lasted a second before Lizzo came on through the speakers and made the venue bounce.

Rafael was still with you as you held onto him, too afraid of what would happen if you looked at him.

The minute that passed felt like an hour before you pulled back to face him. “Thank you for the dance.” You whispered; your eyes desperate to look away from his stare, a beat passed before your lips were pressed against his, you fought the urge to slide your hands into his hair, to kiss him long and hard, to feel everything you were missing.

Instead you opted for the soft but tender kiss, his hand slid to your neck as your hands were placed against his chest, the music melted from the background and you allowed yourself to enjoy this moment. As the kiss ended and he rested his head against yours he muttered breathily. “Anytime.”

After dinner people made their way across the house, a few people were catching up, a group pulled Rafael away for a celebratory drink, and you were sat in the living room with Jasmine and Lauren.

“I can’t believe you’re getting married.” Jasmine slurred, she had, had a few too many. “I knooowwww, remember just being little kids?” You sighed your head leaning against the back of the couch. Okay, so you had a few to many as well. Lauren giggled as she watched the two of you.

“Marriage is great though. Starting your life with your soulmate.” Jasmine smiled and looked past you, you followed her eyesight and put the pieces together as your eyes found the group of boys pouring another shot for Rafael, Anthony holding his shoulders and jumping up and down to hype him up.

Of course, Daveed turned his head, his eyes meeting yours, you wanted to look away, but something couldn’t pull your gaze from him. “Yeah. Soulmate.”

[calumance]

"Don't look at me, I'm a mess!" And turning their head to kiss their palm please??? Your blurbs are amazing

🥰🥰🥰🥰 thank you baby cakes! I love youuuuuuuu!! 💖💖 I got a bit carried away with this one. I hope you like it!!!! 

        It was noon and work had sucked so bad that you were about ready to just get up and leave, having to contemplate if you even wanted to go back. Instead you grabbed your phone and texted Calum about how badly you hated your job. He didn’t text you back, but you brushed it off as him being busy since they were in the middle of recording the new album. You lowered your head onto your desk and tried to gather yourself so you did rage quit.

        Your desk phone rang and you answered it. “Hi, something just came for you. I have it up at the front.” You pulled your eyebrows together and hung up without saying anything. You pushed yourself away from your desk and made your way to the front. As you approached the front desk, you caught sight of a bouquet of roses. You pointed at the bouquet and the woman behind the front desk nodded.

        You slowed your speed as you reached toward the flowers, seeing a card sticking out of the middle. Before touching anything, you plucked the card from the holder and opened it. “Sorry you’re having a rough day my love. Here’s some flowers to brighten your day. Can’t wait for dinner tonight. Xx Cal” A stupid smile stretched across your lips as you read the note from your boyfriend. You closed the card and smelled one of the flowers while grabbing the vase to take it back to your desk.

        The vase make a loud clunk as you set it down on your desk and you read the note three more times as if the ink was slowly disappearing. Calum had told you earlier in the week that he wanted to take you out to a special dinner. You had looked at him as if he were crazy and asked him why. “Because I love you, that’s why,” was his response. You raised your eyebrows and shrugged. Somehow, you came to the agreement to go to this super fancy restaurant downtown which meant you had to dress extra nice. Once you two had agreed where to go, you immediate went out and bought a brand new outfit for the occasion. It was a red dress that hugged you in all the right places, you knew that Calum would love it and you knew that he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off of you.

        When the clock stroke five, you grabbed your things and nearly ran out of the building. Still contemplating if you wanted to come back on Monday. Calum wasn’t home when you got there which gave you a chance to take a shower and get ready without him. As you stepped out of the shower, Calum walked through the front door and called out for you. You wrapped a towel around your body and called back, telling him you were in the bathroom. Once you stepped out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, Calum walked through the bedroom door. You smiled widely and stood on your toes to press a soft kiss to his lips. “Thank you for the flowers, it helped my day get a little better.” Calum smiled and pressed a kiss to your nose. “Also, I need you to get ready in the guest bathroom, because I want to surprise you with my new outfit.”

        Calum rolled his eyes and let out a breathy laugh, “Fine, then my outfit is going to be a surprise too. I’ll grab everything and leave once you go back into the bathroom.” He held out his hand as if he was proposing a deal.

        You looked at his hand and smirked, “Deal.” You grabbed his hand and shook it, placing one last kiss to his lips before walking back into the bathroom.

        You came out of the bathroom once your hair and makeup were done. With the time it took you to do your hair and makeup, you were sure Calum was pacing back and forth just waiting for you to be done. You quickly pulled on your dress and the jacket you were wearing over it. You finished off the look with a pair of black heels and took one last look at yourself in the mirror. You took a deep breath and turned to walk out of the bedroom.

        As you guessed, Calum was standing in the by the front door staring at his phone. He was wearing the exact outfit he wore when they appeared on Family Feud with The Chainsmokers. You always loved that outfit and it caused you to stop in your tracks and just take him in. As if Calum sensed you standing there, he lifted his head and looked at you. His eyes widened and he dropped his phone into his pocket. He didn’t smile, but his eyes stayed locked on you as you walked closer to him. “Hey,” he finally said, his lips twitching into a smile.

        “Hi,” you responded as you took your last step and stood in front of him. You could smell his cologne and all you could think of was melting into him and pressing your nose to his chest so that you could memorize the scent on his skin.

        “You look beautiful,” He whispered as he looked up and down your body a few times, taking you in as if you were the last thing he was ever going to see.

        Your cheeks flushed as you looked down at your feet and chewed on your bottom lip. “Thank you.” Calum gathered himself and held out his elbow for you, which you gladly took, and he walked you out to the car.

**

        The atmosphere of the restaurant is what really threw you off. It was light, but also felt like if you sneezed a little too loud, everyone would stare daggers at you. Which is why you didn’t waste too much time in the restaurant. You ate, drank some wine, paid the outrageously expensive bill and left. Calum drove you to the beach where you left your shoes in the car and Calum rolled the bottom of his pants up to just below his knees. Calum laced his fingers with yours as you walked next to him in the sand.

        The waves crashing on the shore was the only sound you could hear. The wind off the ocean blew your hair out of your face and you smiled as you smelled the salt in the air. “That restaurant was ridiculous, right?” Calum asked pulling you from your thoughts.

        “Yes!” You exclaimed laughing, “I thought it was just me! God, I’m so glad you said something.” You groaned and Calum laughed. “We should’ve just gone to Red Lobster if we wanted to pay for some over-priced food and semi-adequate service.”

        Calum laughed and agreed with you, stopping and pulling you into his chest. You looked into his eyes and he reached his hand up to tuck some loose strands of your hair behind your ear as the wind blew. His finger trailed on the back on your ear until his hand rested on your cheek. His touch made your eyes flutter shut, you turned your head and kissed the palm of his hand. Your fingers wrapped around his hand and he closed his hand around them. “I wanted to ask you this back at the restaurant, which is why I wanted to go to a fancy restaurant, but that restaurant was horrible.”

        You opened your eyes and pulled your eyebrows together. “Ask me what?” You let go of Calum’s hand and he nervously licked his lips.

        He looked down and started digging in his pocket. Your heart started beating hard, and he pulled out a black velvet box. He didn’t even have to open it for you to know what was sitting in that box. You gasped and covered your mouth with your hand, the tears immediately starting to fall. He knelt in the sand and opened the box, showing you the diamond ring inside. “Will you marry me?”

        You sobbed and nodded, “Yes, yes, yes! A million times yes!” Calum smiled and put the ring on your finger then pressed a loving kiss to your lips. You pulled away from him and looked at the ring on your finger. You laughed happily and then fanned your face. Calum stared at you and you tried to dab at the tears on your face. “Don’t look at me, I’m a mess.” You said through a laugh.

        Calum laughed and wrapped his arms around your waist, “No you’re not, you’re beautiful.” He pressed a gentle kiss to your nose and smiled. “I love you.”

        You choked back the tears and nodded, “ I love you too, so much.”

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

Taglist: @thesubtweeter @mantlereid 

[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.

[kirishwima]

Don’t worry about us, please try not to stress out. I am only sending in this request merely due to it not leaving me alone. RFA+V, Unknown (cannot remember how to spell his name) reactions to MC in their wedding dress, what type of wedding will they have? Please do not mind and please study wisely.

ahh this is a cute and light-hearted idea :’) You speak of a wedding dress but refer to MC as they/them, so I’ll be writing for them as non-binary! 

I’ll also add photos of what I think their wedding dress/suit would be bc....I have to, and because I have a whole pinterest board of wedding dresses saved from last summer when I was helping my sister plan her wedding orz :’)

YOOSUNG:

* When speaking of weddings, Yoosung’s always imagined the beautiful classics; standing at the altar, seeing the love of his life walk down the aisle dressed in the most gorgeous gown, his smile broadening at the sight of them.

* He himself wore a humble black suit, but with a baby blue bow-tie; reminiscing of his own innocence.

* He absoloutely had Zen help him pick out his suit; they took Seven along too but he kept insisting Yoosung should just wear a onesie instead lmao

* He did discuss with MC what they’d like to wear; when they said they wanted to wear a dress, he immediatly thought of classic puffy white dresses with lace and toule. 

* Seeing MC walk towards him though, he couldn’t help how his jaw hung open, how his eyes widened. “Lucky you”, he heard Seven whisper, standing besides him as his best man. 

* MC was like a princess, and he, their soon-to be prince. He took their hand as they reached the altar, kissing their knuckles with a wide smile. He’d ditched his glasses for the wedding, finally able to see better with the help of surgery, and he blessed each of his doctors for being able to witness the sight that was MC.

*Overall he’s just a tearful happy nugget, and 10/10 will choke with tears whilst saying his vows

ZEN:

* Despite what you may be thinking, he actually doesn’t dream of big fancy weddings and expensive venues. His ideal wedding would be something simple; a gathering of friends and loved ones, perhaps even by the beach, being able to stand besides the one he loves comfortably and proudly.

* He’s glad that he and MC are on the same page about that; even if he’s a celebrity, his humble approach to life never changed, and he wants their wedding to reflect that. So a wedding by the beach it is!

* It’s Zen we’re talking about, so even a potato sack would look flattering on him, so his choice of suits is endless. He’s classy but doesn’t like the plain old black suit, so instead he goes for something more summery, given their venue. 

* I can really imagine him in a linen suit, ditching the tie for a more laid-back look, his hair tied into an intricate braid, even wearing one or two little white flowers at its end.

* He’d be just as awe-struck with how MC looks no matter what they’d wear, suit or dress, casual or formal. He’ll love them just as much if he sees them every morning in their pyjamas and bed hair, or in a gown and heels. 

* Simple and elegant, and nicer than the summer breeze blowing through Zen’s hair, he had to bite his lip, blinking back tears threatening to fall at the thought he’s about to spend the rest of his life with his beloved. (Also he has to fight the Beast until later tonight and hoo boy is that a hassle or WHAT)

* All in all-he’s one happy hecking groom, and he can’t wait to tear that dress off of them the moment they’re in their private quarters lol

JAEHEE:

* Honestly...she didn’t see the point of holding a wedding at first. Did she fantasize about it as a little girl? Sure, she did. But as she got older and the thought of dating and family got further and further away from her, that childhood dream was put aside, stored in the repressed part of her brain.

* It’d been MC who proposed, and MC who began the planning for the wedding-they didn’t want Jaehee to feel burdened with organizing, but the more Jaehee worked to plan their wedding, the more she fell in love with the idea of this special day just for the two of them, and the more she fell in love with MC, seeing their hard work and adoration towards her.

* They didn’t want to have an all-out wedding like many couples do; just them, their families and the RFA, a little get together to celebrate a milestep of their life together. 

* They had arrived at the dillema of; will we both wear suits? Dresses? Should one of us wear a suit and the other a dress? In the ned MC suggested they each decide on a look without telling the other, so it’ll be just as much of a surprise for each of them to see the other on their wedding day!

* Jaehee is a practical woman, yes, but we know that she’s not the strict short-haired lady she was whilst working with Jumin-she allows herself to explore femiminity more and more in her route, and I feel that’d be evident in her choice of a wedding gown-simple, yet elegant and chic.

* With her hair in a gorgeous loose bun, flowers adorning her head, her ring-finger soon to be decorated with a delicate ring she and MC chose together-she almost can’t believe the person looking back at her in the mirror is herself.

* Less so can she believe that the person she’s about to marry is soon walking towards her, a smile on their face as if they’re the lucky one to be marrying Jaehee when Jaehee stares wide-eyed at the beautiful person she’s eagerly waiting to spend the rest of her life with;

* Of course they’d choose a dress with pockets, she thinks with a roll of her eyes, if only to tease Jaehee about her own lack of pockets later on. 

* They both can’t help but stare at each other as they meet at the altar, wide eyed with incredulous smiles. The preacher even has to cough politely to get their attention back to well, their wedding lmao

* It’s everything Jaehee could’ve wanted and then some.

JUMIN:

* Yeah yeah, it’s Jumin Han, the handsome man in a suit, and yeah he’s gonna have an all-out wedding alright-but only if that’s what MC wants. 

* He honestly...doesn’t care what the ceremony will be like, who will be there or what they’ll say. He only cares about seeing MC’s ring finger adorned with a rind that has his surname engraved in it, a mark on them that says MC’s his, his and no one elses.

* Even if he wears suits on the daily, his wedding is no exception; he’ll wear a suit tialored to perfection, classic black and sleek, matching his raven-dark hair, slicked back for the occasion-he’d go to the ceremony in his pyjamas if he had to, so long as he’s able to call MC his spouse once the day’s over.

* He had given MC the absoloute liberty of choosing what to wear, with the only condition being they have the best tailors across the world work on their outfit, wanting it to be as unique and wonderful as MC themself. 

* It was jarring at first, to have 5 or 6 professionals tug and probe at MC whilst working on their measurements and meeting up to discuss their style, but they figure that’s just how life with Jumin as their husband will be-extreme, sometimes awkward, but full of love and care; they could see it in his smile when they came home from their fitting, tired but happy as they snuggled up in his arms, him stroking their hair until they fell asleep.

* It’s hard to find a dress picture that I feel captures what MC’s dress would be, but I think the closest to it would be something like this;

* “The most befitting dress for royal beauty such as yours”, Jumin whispers to MC’s ear as they approach him at the altar, his smile small and private, for MC’s eyes only.

* Yet as he leans down to kiss them, completely ignoring the preacher waiting to start the ceremony, he whispers on their lips ‘I love you’, and MC knows from the bottom of their soul, that no matter what they wore, how they looked, Jumin would love them just as much. And they’re forevel grateful for that.

* p.s: Elizabeth the 3d is ABSOLOUTELY going to be the ring bearer, and she’ll have her own little dress appropriate for the occasion, fight me on this.

SEVEN/LUCIEL/SAEYOUNG:

* Y’all....tease him about the ‘let’s get married at the space station’ bit all you want, but this boy DREAMS of a wedding, a family and happy life for so long, you can never convince me he doesn’t go all out for his wedding.

* A beautiful, flower-covered venue? Check. Tailored, custom-made suit? Check. Planning everything to the most minute detail? YES. He’ll run himself dry working on creating the perfect wedding, it’ll take some convincing from MC to tone it down lmao.

* He’ll still insist on inviting absurd guests just like he did with the RFA parties, but in all honesty, he just wants MC besides him, Saeran and Yoosung next to him as hie best men (yes he can have both of them shush), the rest of the RFA there to congratulate him and MC on their special day; the people he loves, to celebrate the day of uniting with his one true love, that’s all Saeyoung wants.

* To be able to say ‘I love you MC’, and to have MC tell him ‘I love you, Saeyoung’-to formally and completely leave the life of 707 behind, to have his brother hug him, congratulate him on his wedding-this is all more than enough to make Saeyoung cry happy tears, pushing his palms on his eyes as he laughs and cries at the same time, letting MC hug him to help him calm down.

* While he does dream of a classic classy wedding, he loves the colour red a little too much, so he’d try and sneak it in there, be it in a vest or bow tie lol (he’d absoloutely wear a bow tie instead of a tie, and he’d be allowed one (1) doctor who joke for the duration of the ceremony lmao)

* ((also....not relevant to the wedding itself, but his marriage proposal would absoloutely be at a planetarium, js))

* As for MC...they’d spent nights on the couch together, eating chips and wondering what they’d each wear on the day of their wedding. They ended up taking Jaehee and some more of their friends with them when looking for a dress, as much as Saeyoung pouted and asked to tag along.

* It was worth it to keep him in the dark though; his big wide eyes as MC walked towards him, how he had to bite his lip to stop giggling like a fool, he was jumping up and down at the altar, giggling behind his hands as he mumbled ‘oh my god oh my god oh my god allah and buddha!’. 

* “Holy shit” he whispered to himself, earning a stern gaze from the preacher, his brother groaning in the background. MC took it as a compliment though, smiling up at him as they stood across him.

* This boy....will cry real ugly snort filled tears at his wedding vows, I guarantee it.

V/JIHYUN:

* BOHO WEDDING BOHO WEDDING BOHO WEDDING

* Like hello??? Have you seen this hippie-ass man at the end of his route?? He’ll be so happy with a marriage ceremony in the forest, in a little church that looks almost abandoned in its little spot at the edge of the woods, in a little city no one knew before V brought it up.

* He’d love to help decorate and renovate the church for their wedding, using funds taken from a painting collection he did featuring the very forest the church sits besides. 

* (I can also totally picture their wedding taking place in a botanical garden/greenhouse, if you’d rather skip the church option! Just surrounded by plants and nature :D)

* Even if it’s not a boho wedding though-just being able to spend the rest of his life besides MC, the person that truly taught him what love is, that’s all handsome mint boy needs.

* Honestly...he’s extra enough to be the kind of guy that ditches the shirt, so I can imagine him wearing something like the following, but in a darker colour; 

* As for MC....yeah I’m gonna add my personal favorite here bc bOHO WEDDING DRESSES ARE GORGEOUS AND MC WOULD LOOK LIKE A FAE APPEARING THROUGH THE WOODS AND JIHYUN WOULD ABSOLOUTELY GASP AT THE SIGHT OF THEM, WIPING AWAY A STRAY TEAR AS HE KISSES THEIR FOREHEAD WHEN THEY REACH HIM AT THE ALTAR, SAYING A QUIET ‘THANK YOU, I LOVE YOU’ ONLY MC CAN HEAR.

((something with a little simpler bust, but the puffy sleeves,,,flowy dress,,,the line cut that’s honestly so charming on any figure,,,fight me this is the cutest kind of dress))

UNKNOWN/SAERAN:

* He’d really want a small, closed wedding just for him, MC, and the RFA sure, why not (he’s kidding, he’s grown really fond of them all but he refuses to openly admit it)

* If MC suggests they hold their ceremony at a greenhouse he’ll be over the moon; he’ll personally visit the greenhouse and make sure all the flowers are in tip top condition for their wedding.

* For his own suit, he’d like to keep things simple, maybe even ditching the whole suit and tie thing; 

* I really imagine him with a suit similar to this, but ditching the vest , with flowers pinned to his blazer that he looks fondly at, knowing MC will be holding a bouquet just like these, ones he himself picked out with all his love and care, removing each thorn to make sure nothing can harm their hands as they hold the bouquet.

* As MC walks towards him through the greenhouse his breath shudders, any words he may have had dying in his throat; MC looks ethereally beautiful and he’s out of words as they come to stand in front of him, his lips trembling.

* Is this person really his? The one he’ll be able to hold, to love for as long as he lives? He shakingly takes MC’s hand in his, giving them a tight squeeze as he smiles.

* “In sickness and in health” he whispers, smiles as MC says it back.

* In sickness and in health.

-Send me mystic messenger headcanons for character reactions-

[lu-undy]

I got a request, maybe sniper and spy decide to go on a double date with heavy and medic?

Here we go! It starts as a double date but turns into just Sniper and Spy (sorry I can’t write other ships, it just feels weird to me! ^^). But, to compensate, I tried to have a bit of an emotional one here so I hope you’ll get the “feels” as the cool kids say!

There was a knock at the door. 

"Come in." 

"Are you ready - ah, yes, you are." Heavy entered Spy's suite. He found him putting on his coat. 

"So are you, I see." 

They both eyed each other and noticed how different they looked from when they wore their Mann Co. uniforms. Spy had put on a dark red suit with an assorted bowtie and white varnished shoes. He looked like a fish in a pond next to Heavy who had put on a tuxedo for the occasion but was visibly not as comfortable as his colleague. 

"Do I have my car keys…? Oui, right, let us go." And they exited the flat to soon find themselves in Spy's bright red Italian car. 

Of course, the Frenchman was driving. He put the key in and made the engine roar a sound that was only produced on dream cars, a rumbling worth more money than Heavy had ever spent. 

"C'mon doc', we'll be late!"

"Ja, just a minute!" 

And Medic proved to hold his word as a minute later, he emerged from his quarters, wearing a suit with a bowtie too. However, Sniper had just changed for non-Mann Co. clothing. 

"Bugger… Do I need to put on a suit for that?" He asked. 

"As you wish, although I'm sure Spy will show up with one." Medic answered. 

"Right…" Sniper winced. "Come to my van. You climb at the front, I'll get a change at the back…" 

They did as Sniper said and when the Aussie re-appeared behind the steering wheel, Medic didn't manage to hold a gasp. 

"What?" He shot an almost aggressive glance at the doctor. Sniper was clearly embarrassed. 

"Y-you look… Uh…" 

"Eyes on the map, in the glovebox, and tell me where that place is." 

Medic understood the message clearly enough and didn't discuss anything further. 

The trip took the mercenaries about an hour, a bit less and they arrived in town. 

Spy looked quickly at his colleague. How he managed to fit in his car was beyond him. 

"I wish you good luck, Heavy." 

"Thank you. I wish the same to you, Spy, though I know you won't need it." 

Spy raised an eyebrow and Heavy went on. 

"Sniper looks at you like the best thing that ever happened in his life. His eyes shine in a special way. Even Medic noticed it."

"I like to believe that Sniper is very obvious when it comes to his feelings."

"Da, but you are too, in your own way." 

"I am not." Spy coldly answered. 

"Hm." Heavy did not insist to avoid embarrassing his friend. They were tense enough as it was.

Meanwhile, in Sniper's van, the atmosphere was different. 

"So, uh…" Sniper scratched his cheek. "Ever been on a… a…"

"A date?" Medic asked. "I was once married, so yes, I've had lots of them by the past." 

"Ah, yeah." 

"Haven't you?" Medic asked back. 

"Not in a long time." 

The German doctor noticed that Sniper's fingers were drumming on the steering wheel nervously. He put a hand on his shoulder. 

"Don't be too nervous. I am sure it will go well." 

"I don't know, mate. Spy's a difficult bloke. I never know what he thinks or what he wants and he's got experience in those things, so much experience… It's like I'm a little boy next to him."

"Look at the good side of things."

"Which is?" Sniper asked. 

"He was either the one to suggest this date, or the one to accept it." 

Sniper looked at Medic. He was surprised to see that the crazy scientist could sometimes speak sense. 

"Bien." Spy stopped the car in front of the restaurant. "Here we are." 

[Well.]

Both him and Heavy exited the car and waited in front of the restaurant as they didn't see Sniper's iconic van. 

"They will arrive soon I hope." Heavy said. 

"No doubt." Spy was more confident in his ability to attract Sniper than Heavy was with Medic. "You will do just fine, Heavy. The only moments I have seen Medic behave almost like a human being are when he is in your company." 

Heavy looked down at his colleague who lit up a cigarette and puffed on it. Soon, the campervan arrived and parked a few metres away. The sun had set a long while ago so the only lights were shed by the lamp posts. Two silhouettes got out of the van, one taller than the other and with a hat. 

Heavy wiped his sweaty hands on his trousers while Spy crushed his cigarette and adjusted his tie. With a last look and a nod, they parted ways and Spy reconvened with Sniper. 

"I see you have found the place." He said. 

"Y-yeah, Medic helped. He uh, he had the map, I just had to follow the instructions." 

Spy smiled at how nervous Sniper seemed even though he couldn't see him clearly in the dimness of the night. 

"Shall we?" Spy offered his arm. 

"Uh…" Sniper's head shook left and right. He wasn't sure if he should take Spy's arm, publicly, like that. It was all a bit too much, or too fast. Spy understood and just extended his hand in the direction of the restaurant's entrance instead. 

"After you, Sniper."

"Right…" Sniper looked but couldn't see Medic and Heavy anymore, thus concluding they were already inside.

As soon as he entered, Sniper gasped silently as his jaw dropped and his lips parted visibly. He hadn't set foot in any similar place in his life so far. The restaurant had a very high ceiling, the floor was tiled and the chandeliers' shy yellow lights reflected on the floor. As Sniper looked down, he realised he could always see himself perfectly, despite the tiles being dark blue. The walls had magnificent paintings that were framed with gold painted wood and the walls themselves were Burgundy red with golden motifs. 

"Gosh…" 

Spy said something to a waiter and next thing he knew, Sniper was sitting in front of him, on a table lit by a single candle, sitting at the center of the small round table. Before he did sit down, Sniper removed his coat and hat and it was Spy's turn to drop his jaw. 

"Mon Dieu…" 

[My God…]

Hearing Spy's voice made Sniper zone back to reality brutally and face his gaze. He saw the very light blue eyes open wide and the pupils retracted to a dot. But it only flashed for a fleeting moment because Spy didn't let the surprise invade him. 

They sat down and were handed the menu. The light in the room was quite low, which was quite pleasant for the eyes. It helped them focus on what was important. Sniper hid behind the leather-bound menu and sometimes took a peek above it. Spy looked absolutely magnificent. His dark red jacket had a slight sheen to it which recalled the sparks that Sniper saw in his eyes, each time their gazes would cross. 

"So, have you made your choice?" 

"Uh, yeah, I think I did." Sniper answered, still shielding himself behind the menu. 

"You can put the menu down then."

"I-I could, yeah…" 

But somehow, Sniper didn't want to and he clung to the thing like a young boy would to his mum's skirt.

"Sniper?"

"Yeah?" 

"You may put the menu down." Spy repeated and this time, Sniper yielded. 

"Oh, Gosh…" Sniper's eyes opened as wide as planets and his pupils shrank. Between his last glance at Spy and now, the Frenchman had freed his face and hair from the last layer of cloth that covered them, taking Sniper utterly by surprise. 

"We are now even." Spy said. 

"Y-I-uh… I-I guess… Now I can see you and uh, you can see me." 

They took a moment to observe each other. One was confident in his looks and knew he could make any heart fall with just a flash of his pearly white teeth, while the other was red beyond his ears, awkward and uncomfortable as if he was naked. 

"That was not what I meant." Spy said while Sniper was still devouring him with his eyes. The Frenchman's eyes were bewitching, that, Sniper knew, but his hair was absolute poetry! It was elegantly combed back with a cinder lock at the front and grey temples. He also had a rebel front tuft that refused to follow the rest of his hair to fall between his eyes. Spy took great care of his hair, it shone beautifully under the chandeliers and candle light. 

"W-what?" Sniper snapped back to reality. "Sorry, what d'you mean?"

"I did not mean that we're even because I removed my balaclava."

"Why then?"

"Look at you." Spy started. "You made the effort to wear a suit, although you clearly aren't used to it. It's a shame you don't wear one to work, they make you more handsome." 

Sniper felt the wave of heat change into sweat on his entire body, but Spy continued.

"You also combed your hair back, added a bit of product to make it stay in place, you shaved and I can smell your perfume from here, a bit too strong for my liking, but that's only because you are nervous. Non Sniper, I meant that we are even because you made all these efforts for me while I made some for you too, although they do not appear as blatantly."

Their meals appeared on the table and they started digging in. Sniper didn't know what to answer so he just fell silent. That's when he realised that there was some music in the background. He raised his head and saw far from them, at the side of the dining area, a group of musicians. Hell that place was fancy… 

"You are remarkably handsome tonight is what I meant and I thank you for your efforts. They mean the world to me." 

Sniper tried to at least smile and nod but his shyness paralysed him and he just managed to pull his lips and lower his head. He was extremely tense and of course Spy noticed it. 

"Is it too much?" He asked. 

"What?" 

"What I said, did I go too far? Was it things that you don't want to hear?"

"N-no." 

Spy lowered his head with a sigh. He hadn't touched his meal and Sniper was pushing the food left and right, but couldn't eat either. 

"I had doubts this would be a bad idea. Now, I am sure." He concluded and simply left the table, leaving Sniper alone. 

The poor Aussie was not only confused but ashamed. It was because of him, again, that he lost a date. He lowered his head to the food in his plate. It didn't make sense, it was grey and bland. Sniper left the table too. He went to pay what he owed but was told Spy had already done so, and so he left the restaurant. 

He dragged his feet to his van, in the silence of the night, before unlocking it and climbing on the driver's seat. Sniper sighed. He was used to screwing up dates, forgetting them, being stood up, or making them go awfully bad. But this particular instance was hurting in a bitter way. He put his hands on the steering wheel and started the van. 

"You are leaving?" 

A voice said from next to him that made him jump on his seat and put a hand on his chest. In the darkness of the night, he didn't see that Spy was sitting where Medic had been half an hour before.

"I… I thought you left." Sniper answered. 

"Non." Spy said as he retrieved a cigarette and lit it. 

[No.]

"So uh… What do we do?"

"Go ahead and continue what you were doing. Pretend I am not here." Spy said and turned to look through the window. 

Sniper felt the pain inside. He had screwed it up so much. There wasn't much left but to drive back to the base and sleep through the next day. So he exited the parking lot in front of the restaurant and drove away. 

The ride was dead silent and only the gentle rumble of the van's engine was audible, although it had melted in the background.

"Stop the van." Spy said. 

"What?" Sniper's head turned to him in a flash. 

"Stop the van." He repeated. 

"Here? In the middle of the desert?" Sniper asked but Spy's eyes riveted on his were more than clear and Sniper obeyed, parking the car on the dusty ground of the desert, a few meters away from the asphalt.

As the van's noise stopped, the tension grew louder. Spy opened the door and slipped out. Sniper thought that he had needed a quick "pit stop" as they called them for formula 1 cars, but soon, he heard some noise coming from above his head. 

Utter confusion. What the hell was Spy doing on his van's rooftop? Why would he go there? Nah, it surely was nothing. Sniper shook his head and waited for Spy to come back. But after ten minutes, he still hadn't. Sniper sighed and decided to investigate. He got out of the van and looked around. Spy was nowhere to be found. 

"Up here, if you are looking for me." 

Sniper looked up and indeed Spy was sitting cross-legged on the van's rooftop. Sniper went to the ladder at the back and climbed up. 

"What are you doing here? I thought you asked me to stop to take a p-"

"To fill one of your filthy jars?" Spy cut him. "Non. I needed guidance." 

[No.]

Sniper sat down next to him. 

"You prayin'?" He asked, seeing how Spy's eyes were riveted on the sky. 

"Almost." He answered. "I am asking for help, but not from God. If he did exist, why did I live such a miserable life? How was that part of the plan? To give me a lady that would be my wife and a son, only to take them away from me. But still, to keep him so close to me that it hurts every day of this life, having to see him and remember better, sweeter times. Having to see him and knowing that things could have been much different, things could have gone splendidly better. But non, apparently the plan wasn't that, non, the plan was to make me suffer every day I cross his gaze because I see her and I see the life I could have led." 

Sniper's jaw dropped.

"And then they did something." 

"Who?" Sniper asked.

"Them." Spy pointed up. "They broke the curse, they took me out of that infernal spiral and saved me. But they didn't do that in a snap of their fingers. Non. They sent someone. A wingless angel. Someone whose sight takes off all the burdens I've ever carried on my shoulders. His mere presence brings peace to my tormented soul. He graces me with the gift of joy, and brings back feelings that had died in me. The flutters of the heart, the blush on my cheeks, even though hidden behind my mask. He is a godsent to me, only I know it wasn't God who sent it to me, it can't be. Why would he make me suffer so hard to then just simply flip it all over with the presence of that man, hm?"

"Maybe God just wants you to think less harshly about yourself." 

Spy turned his eyes to Sniper. 

"I mean, it's like you had a curse or something, but you seem to say that it's going better, right?" 

"Oui. That tall, handsome man has lifted the curse. Each time he gathers the courage to look into my eyes, I can feel all sorts of things in my chest that no other feeling but love can produce. I breathe more heavily, my heart beats faster but my eyes blink slower, because I want time to stretch, I want this to last. It is selfish, but I want his attention on me for as long as possible. Not only do I like the way he looks at me, as if I could bring him any fragment of happiness, but he blesses me with the peace I have yearned for without even knowing it. And he's the only one able to calm the waves of my torment here, inside." Spy tapped his chest. "Thank you, Sniper." 

Sniper choked on his own saliva and cleared his throat. He froze when Spy took his arm between his and leaned on his shoulder. 

"Y-you think all that… about me?" He asked. 

"Oui." Spy closed his eyes as the proximity with the body he had dreamt of was overwhelming. "But please." He parted from Sniper and looked up at him. "Please tell me that you feel the same. Please tell me that your shyness only tries to hide how you too feel this way for me, and not how repulsive you find me. Please tell me that… That I am not putting all my hopes for peace somewhere where they would be wasted and thrown away. At my age, I don't think I will ever find someone with whom I could share my days and my worries." 

Spy pleaded with his eyes, implored with his voice but nothing came out of Sniper's lips. And the silence spoke louder than anything else around them in the darkness of the night. 

"I… I realise how pathetic I sound, how both desperate and done I am with life. I do apologise if I wasted your time, if I forced you to do anything you didn't want to. Forgive me. It was only an old, tired man thinking he had found a bit of solace. I shall not bother you more." 

Spy looked up at the stars and addressed them. 

"Thank you and damn you. Thank you for making me feel those tremors everywhere, that magic spell inside that makes one forget his worries ever existed. And damn you. To hell with you and the false hopes you gave me. I hope you are laughing at the miseries you put me through and how badly they break me. You would be the only ones laughing, I don't have the strength for self pity or laughing at myself anymore."

Spy stood up and turned to get down off the van's rooftop. Sniper stood up in a flash and held him back from his sleeve, awkwardly. 

"W-wait." 

"What? You too want to laugh? Be quick about it. I would like to get back home with a bit of dignity left in me." 

"Shut up." Sniper pulled him more strongly than Spy had anticipated he could and the Frenchman crashed against Sniper's chest, his arms wrapping him tight and close. "You talk too much." 

Tears went to Spy's eyes as his body was against the one man he had wanted for weeks now. His solace, his ray of light through his dark life. Sniper's hand went behind Spy's head, through the silk of his hair and his other one on his lower back, clinging to him, almost clawing. 

Spy buried his head on Sniper's chest and let the tears do what they wanted. If they wanted to roll down and cover him in disgrace, so be it. He closed his eyes.

"You talk too much and I can't talk as much. It's… I'm… I'm sorry I can't. I'm sorry I'm bad with words. But no, of course I won't laugh at you, you idiot." Sniper's hand clenched harder on Spy's hair. "I won't laugh at you. I… Bugger! I can't speak."

Spy's hands laced around Sniper's sides and clawed on his back. 

"I love you, Sniper." 

Sniper looked down between his arms and Spy was looking up at him, his eyes more than glistening. 

"I love you like the desperate man I am." 

"Don't say that. You're not desperate okay? Oh, Gosh…" And Sniper tightened the hug again because it was what both of them needed. Spy's tears finally won over as Sniper rested his cheek on top of Spy's head. "You're not desperate. I'm… I'm here, ok? I'm here now. I'm… I love you too, bloody hell." 

Spy's breath broke out of sync as he started sobbing against Sniper's shirt. Sniper stayed there, immobile, for long minutes, absorbing all the waters of his lover's liberation. Spy needed to cry. He needed to mark the end of the curse, he needed to celebrate it and rather than jumping out of joy, his body had chosen to wash the bitterness away in tears. So be it. Sniper massaged Spy's scalp. The Frenchman was mumbling through his sobs and the Aussie didn't know if it was French, English or complete gibberish. He just took it all away from Spy. And when the Frenchman had drenched Sniper's shirt to the point where he could feel the cold wetness on his very skin, Spy raised his head. 

"Je t'aime, I love you. I love you so much, I am so sorry."

[I love you.]

And Sniper understood that for the past minutes, Spy had been just repeating those words on loop, like a broken disc. He looked down straight in his eyes and gathered enough courage to face the man who was literally breaking down because he loved him that much. Sniper answered. 

"I love you too, I love you too, don't be sorry, I love you." 

Spy's lips pursed in a smile. He was crying what were maybe the happiest tears of his life.

[prurientpuddlejumper]

A Punchable Face That I Want to Kiss, Ch. 8

<- Chapter 7 | Chapter 9 ->

Summary: Snapshots of life with a fussy brat over the three-year time jump. Including: a few holiday specials. 

3,949 words

With the lease up on your apartment, Frederick invited you to move in with him. It seemed like the next logical step in your relationship, especially considering how frequently you slept there anyway—though he had to justify the choice by saying he “could not stand seeing you live in squalor.” The house was certainly big enough for two people (or several less-wealthy families).

It was nice living with him, because you lived very different lives. Rather than finding it stifling to be trapped in the same house, it was freeing that you could spend so much of the day apart—or weeks, as it often was, traveling for cases or book promotion tours—and yet always be connected by the home you would return to at the end of it all.

You were planets of the solar system orbiting the same sun. 

The stability of that was comforting. So much had changed—Will Graham left and cut ties with the FBI, Hannibal Lecter was imprisoned at the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane where Alana Bloom now held Chilton’s old job, and you were considering following Will’s lead and pursuing new career options. It made you glad to have someone familiar to keep you company, and always be there when you needed him. 

For all the good, living with Frederick Chilton was not always easy. He was a shameless snob who did not believe in laundry chairs, and panicked when his state-of-the-art kitchen was filled with sugary cereals with cartoon characters on the box. There were many clashes of egos early on, some of which never fully disappeared. Now that his star was rising, he insisted you dress a certain way when you were to be seen in public together—particularly at any sort of publicity event or psychiatric conference, but anywhere really that he might be recognized. He was yours, and that meant you reflected upon him. He updated your entire wardrobe like you were starring in an episode of Queer Eye, and had your hair professionally styled.

You couldn’t even be annoyed at the controlling implications of it—you were never great at dressing professionally, and it was exciting to see yourself looking so sharp in the mirror. You could surrender that to him. He enjoyed sophisticated things, like the opera and restaurants where celebrities eat, and now you didn’t feel so out of place when you joined him.

“You actually look quite elegant,” he nodded in surprised approval at your new attire.

You stuck out your tongue.

“Do not tempt me with that,” he said with a feline wiggle of his shoulders. “We have engagements to get to, and I do not want to re-do my face.” He wrapped the hand not gripping a cane around your hip and kissed you, coaxing your naughty tongue into his mouth with a lustful growl.

Any time he was too fussy and judgmental to the point of being unkind, you were quite practiced at flicking him back down to earth. He rarely apologized, of course, but would look up and purse his lips in thought before admitting, “You may be right.”

He was a sassy bitch, but you knew that. It’s why you loved him.

You loved him.

You did. It was strange to realize how much you loved someone you used to hate, whose traits you would normally find incompatible with your own. He was a miserable little rich boy with a self-satisfied sneer, a flare for drama, and perpetually questionable ethics, yet you would do anything to keep him safe. You wanted to stay by his side forever.

And there was something to be said about his difficult personality when you were not on the receiving end of it. 

Being on his side was fun—his hand at your back as he verbally destroyed someone with a catty insinuation that left their eyes glowering with indignation. That used to be me, you thought. Now you were up on his throne with him, and the view was much better.

You wanted to stay through all the medications, physical therapy, and regular hospital visits to tweak his prosthetics and make sure his remaining organs were all still functioning properly. You wanted to stay even as you questioned how much of your affection for him was pity in disguise, as he had suggested the first time you slept with him in a fit of explosive passion—that you liked wounded birds.

If it was pity, and being pity meant you would have to leave, then you resolved to stuff your fingers in your ears and ignore it. No psychoanalysis would make you give him up. You wanted to keep orbiting the sun together.

  *****

Calliope music paraded through the air with aggressively cheerful pneumatic whistles that grabbed your eardrums and pulled them screaming into the 1920s. Shrieks, laughter, bells, and shouts rushed by.

Frederick Chilton stuck close beside you and mistrustfully held a greasy paper plate like it was a venomous snake.

It seemed only fair that in return for dressing up, you made him dress down and do normal-person things, like go to the county fair and eat deliciously greasy fried foods. It was like a cultural exchange program.

“Every moment I am not writing my next book is another moment the world goes without a groundbreaking revelation on the human psyche,” he had snipped when you first suggested the outing. He barely looked up from his computer, where he sat typing in a suave leather office chair.

“Oh come on, you owe me,” you persisted. “I am sick and tired of fancy museums and fancy restaurants and fancy psychiatric conventions. Next time we’re in a hotel, there should be Star Trek costumes involved!” He straightened like you’d shoved a rod up his spine, and you chuckled inwardly at his petty aversion to being seen at that type of convention. “Come on, it’s just the fair,” you rubbed his shoulders and he groaned with annoyance. “Nobody important will be there. You’ll be totally incognito. Be a commoner with me.”

“I suppose it is the least I can do,” he caved in at last, leaning his head back to rest on your chest, glancing up at you through his eyebrows. “Since it is so important to you, I shall partake of your proletariat festivities.”

“Don’t say proletariat when we’re at the fair, you bougie dork.”

He wore a plain black t-shirt, and his hair wasn’t quite as primly styled as usual, letting a few strands fly free. The less he stood out from the crowd, the less likely a professional acquaintance or fan would recognize him.

Even living with Chilton, it was rare to see him dressed so casually, and you had expected it to be disconcerting. Instead, you found yourself drooling. He was sexy in a suit, but so was everybody with the correct fit. The unstructured t-shirt hugged his broad chest and revealed those alarmingly muscular arms that were usually a secret hidden under sleeves.

It was odd seeing your private Chilton—reserved for nights and mornings—out in the world, and a reminder of how lucky you were.

He managed to look dapper even with powdered sugar on his shirt.

“Funnel cake?” he cringed, as if the word itself was in poor taste. “Are we certain this is food?”

“You are ridiculously hoity-toity.”

“I do enjoy the finer things in life,” he boasted in a smooth, self-congratulatory hum.

You were about to sass him when you realized his admiring eyes were fixed on you, and he wore an expectant smirk on his lips. Your scowl cracked open into a tender laugh, and you linked your arm with his, giving him a playful hip bump.

His eyes widened at you in mock horror. “You would attack a man with a cane?” He awaited your answer with that same peevish smirk, but you didn’t have anything clever on your tongue, so you pulled him into a kiss instead. He melted against your lips, having gotten what he wanted.

Frederick refused to go on any rides, citing safety concerns and his delicate viscera, but you perused a hundred breeds of chickens, pet the World’s Tallest Clydesdale, watched pigs racing, browsed local artwork, and sampled craft beers which he had to admit were pretty good. You paid far too much money to shoot water guns at a spinning target faster than other carnival-goers so you could win an oversize plush of a corgi, which turned out to be filled with disappointing foam stuffing.

After finally placing a piece of sugary fried dough in his mouth, his eyes closed, and when they opened again, he declared it “not terrible.” Then inhaled it and spent the rest of the fair surreptitiously looking for another funnel cake stand.

When you got home, he confessed, with his most stern and dignified demeanor, that he may have, perhaps had fun, juvenile as it was. Then he quietly suggested that he would make an excellent Spock.

  *****

“I am never going to be perfect enough for you, am I?” you cried after another petty argument over another petty thing like stacking the cups in the cupboard in precisely the correct order. “How do you live with me? It must drive you crazy.”

Months of feeling inadequate bubbled to the surface all at once. Everything he did was so controlled, so exact, you really did wonder why he would ever be with someone like you.

“No,” he frowned, and as he gently took your shoulders his heart was crumbling in his eyes. There was a sorry on the tip of his tongue, but this was not the lottery-winning occasion he would say the word itself. He didn’t need to. He would say it in other ways.

His warm lips pressed your forehead as he rubbed loving circles on your arms with his thumbs. “Do you know who was perfect? Hannibal. I would rather live with a hot mess than a cold-blooded monster. One of us should be warm, anyway,” he gave a self-deprecating smile. “I must do better to remember the beauty of imperfection, because you are perfect to me.”

  *****

The front door opened well after the sun had disappeared and the stars had begun to come out. Frederick came home drained and exhausted from being on his feet all day trying to dominate professional rivals who were all, in turn, out to get him.

Conferences were invigorating, an exciting place to strut one’s superiority, make connections, and scope out the competition… until they were not, and they became whichever circle of Hell it is that makes one have to continually defend oneself to people for whom one will never be good enough.

You looked up from the book you were reading. You didn’t get up from the couch cushion’s gravitational embrace, but smiled with stars in your eyes, and called, “Frederick!”

Home.

He crawled onto the couch next to you, and laid his head in your lap. You set the book aside and ran your fingers through his hair, listening to the sweet, sleepy noises of pleasure the action evoked. Fantasies of this moment had kept him alive all day. You caressed his neck and the prickly stubble along the side of his jaw, and he turned his face into your palm and kissed it. He adored the way you touched him with your gentle, caring hands. Yawning, you reclined into the deep, plush cushions, and he shifted so you were both laying next to each other, content in each other’s embrace. He cuddled into your chest, face buried in your shirt.

“You smell like tacos.”

It was unclear how peevishly he intended the observation, so you simply replied, “I made tacos for dinner.”

“The cheap American kind that are nothing but ground beef, shredded cheese, and an insult to Mexican culture,” he said, voice muffled by the fabric.

“Mm-hmm,” you said.

“They are not real food.”

“Do you want some?”

“God, yes.”

  *****

With physical therapy, Chilton was finally able to walk comfortably without assistance again.

Technically, he had been able to for a long time. The cane was a crutch—in the figurative, not the literal, sense. In the literal sense it was very much not a crutch, or even a cane. At best, it was an expensive, silver-topped walking stick. He clung to it like a security blanket, or as a prop to garner pity, or simply because it was a dramatic accessory. The threat of physical therapy simply convinced him to let go of the pretense.

Like the spiral staircases of his home, some things about Dr. Chilton were fussy and theatrical for no reason.

It was almost a shame, you thought. That thing was the epitome of his dapper style (he might as well put on tap shoes, a top hat, and put on the Ritz with Fred Astaire), and it brought to mind such kinky images.

It was not one of those lightweight BDSM canes, and therefore was far too heavy to do any spanking with, assuming you wanted to be able to sit down any time in the next month. However, you recalled with some excitement his tapping it on the inside of your heels to get you to spread your legs open, using the pommel to gently tip your chin up to him, or running it slowly along the inside of your thighs.

You would miss that cane.

You still argued sometimes—but not as often. You were accustomed to his haughtiness and felt less need to try and change it, and he knew you well enough to relax when the two of you were alone. He took your advice that life was not a competition... but only when it came to you, not to his career and public reputation.

He was still obsessed with proving his superiority to the world. Still obsessed with seeing Hannibal Lecter grow old and feeble inside a cell. Those edges were so integrally a part of him you could never smooth them out.

  *****

You were good for his book tour.

Though he never raised his voice or threw insults around, Chilton still had the journalist sitting in your living room on edge. She gripped the recording device harder, nails turning white. Flanked by imposing towers of leather-bound books, he stared her down like a shark, bragging about his psychiatric achievements and describing grizzly details of the Lecter case with a heartless detachment—he smirked when the more graphic parts made her squeamish.

Dr. Chilton was (contrary to his own opinion) not the best mind in the psychiatric field, but there was one thing he was the preeminent expert in, and that was leaving people with the impression that he was a callous douchebag who thought he was better than everyone else. Which was more or less accurate.

When you entered the room, his whole demeanor softened.

“Hey honey,” you poked your head in with a plate of cookies. “Sorry, I didn’t know you had that interview today. Should I come back later?”

“Nonsense, darling, come in.”

The haughty stare he’d been giving the journalist broke and turned to a warm gaze and a kind smile as he crossed the room to escort you in, his hand on the small of your back. You sat down on the sofa next to him, and set the plate of good-will-bribery cookies down on the coffee table between you and the journalist. She politely refused, at least until the recording was over, but instantly seemed more relaxed, loosing her death-vice on the recorder. You quietly leaned your head on Frederick’s shoulder and discreetly clasped his hand on the cushion between you through the rest of the interview, which he spent blushing and unable to maintain the coldness of his stare.

You brought out a side of him few were able to see. Whenever you made an appearance during his book promotions, the article published was always just a bit more favorable.

  *****

“Gotta go!” you called across the house, slinging a pack over your shoulders. Dawn was barely cresting the purple sky, and Frederick was barely awake. He didn’t even have his prosthetic maxilla in yet; he was only up to say goodbye. “I’m going to be in the field for ten hours straight today!” You thought about that for a moment, and groaned with anticipated exhaustion. 

“You have water?” 

“Yes, mom.”

“You cannot blame me for worrying,” he smiled with some pride at his gallant adventurer. You were wild in ways he would never understand, and it terrified as much as thrilled him. He smoothed a few wrinkles out of your shirt—a rugged garment for outdoor wear—and said you looked presentable enough for what you were doing. You kissed him, and wished him luck with the book signing he was attending that day. 

He wandered into the kitchen to search for breakfast, when an idea occurred to him.

“Take some of my meal-replacement bars,” he offered, opening the pantry. He had the organic superfood detox variety that he was able to digest. 

“I already did, thanks!”

He sighed with annoyance. “I noticed. It looks like an animal went through the packaging.”

“You love me,” you grinned cheekily in the doorway.

He prowled up to you, eyes narrow, trapping you against the door. He growled. He wrapped his arms around you and buried his face in the crook of your neck, kissing you and sucking a small bruise just under your collar. Yeah, he loved you. You purred, arching your back so you were pressed more firmly against him, and breathed in his scent. If only you didn’t have to leave.

“Come home safe.”

  *****

Halloween was your favorite holiday. Perhaps it was gauche for one involved in investigating real murders, and real dead people, but then, that might have been what made it so appealing—on Halloween, all the blood was corn syrup, the skeletons danced to 80’s rock, and the serial killers wore their identities on their sleeves and carried plastic weapons. It had been your favorite holiday as a kid, and it still was.

“No.”

“Please?” you begged, drawing out the E. “It would be so awesome!”

“No.”

“But—”

“I am a bestselling author. An esteemed expert in my field. I will not be subjected to such an undignified, childish display.”

“But you would have the best costume and nobody would know!”

He wasn’t sure how you talked him into it. It must have those adorable pleading eyes he could never resist, or the enticing appeal to his ego that it would be an extraordinary costume, certain to leave everyone guessing how the effect was done. Somehow, he was walking into a Halloween party as a zombie. Without his contact lens or prosthetic jaw.

He frowned. It was humiliating.

You were dressed as an apocalypse survivor with an infected bite, and were hamming it up, telling the other guests you were fine, totally fine, with a shaky panic-edged voice and a tremor in your limbs. You had done an impressive job on the makeup, too, giving your complexion a sallow haze and reddened eyes. The bite itself was a gory masterpiece constructed from latex and tissue paper, with dark veins spider-webbing up your arm.

He didn’t have to ham it up. He only needed to walk in the room and Shrek and Fiona, Pennywise the clown, and a sexy velociraptor all gasped in horror at his face. How was that meant to make him feel?

“So cool!” someone said before he could turn on his heel and walk out of there. Words like, “There isn’t a contest, is there? I should have put in more effort,” and “did you hire a movie SFX artist? No fair,” started to get tossed around—including toward costume elements that you had designed and had nothing to do with his natural grotesqueness. Then they offered him a drink and moved on to the next impressive costumes and regular party chatter.

You were right. Nobody knew it was real, and while it stung to be stared at and called grisly—you would later apologize profusely for being too gung-ho and not thinking through what would happen—he had never imaged being able to have a normal conversation in public with his real face exposed. There was something daringly vulnerable about it. He had never imagined not being ashamed, but at least in this niche context, his old injury made him the leading man of the evening.

By the end of the night he got so into it, he was chasing you around snarling for your brains, and getting a kick out of scaring trick-or-treaters.

  *****

He took you to Paris for Valentine’s day. Last time it was Italy, and you strangely suspected he was touring the shadow of Hannibal Lecter as much as he was trying to impress you. You had suspected, that is, until you asked, and he rather bluntly admitted to it. He hadn’t expected you not to notice by the time you got to Florence, although Venice had been purely about romance (he loved all those touristy gondola rides that he swore he hated and were just for your benefit).

Now that he finally had the chance to lavish his considerable means upon someone, he was throwing himself heart and soul into the holiday, and would not stop until he had spoiled you senseless. When he was single and accustomed to spending the day alone, he used to loathe February 14th—Valentine’s had seemed a cruel joke directed specifically at him. He couldn’t even spitefully ignore it by staying late at work, because the more perceptive inmates always took notice.

“You do not know hell,” he told you, “until a man convicted of raping his mother’s severed head taunts you about your lack of sex life.”

This year, he treated you to everything Paris had to offer: the Louvre, Notre Dame, an opera at Palais Garnier, a morning stroll through the gardens of Versailles, delicious bakeries, cafes, chocolate, and macrons. You insisted upon seeing the Catacombs, of course.

When you went to the Eiffel Tower and he showed up with roses and dinner reservations for sunset in its refined first-floor restaurant, your gut clenched. You were terrified he was going to propose. Of course he would make a grand gesture! You carefully inspected every champagne glass for hidden engagement rings, but found only bubbles. After dinner, when you ascended to the top of the tower to watch Paris light up at night, you knew that was when the proposal was coming.

But it didn’t. And you found yourself disappointed.

You had never talked about it, so there was no reason to assume it was something he wanted. It seemed far too soon to you, too, until it was snatched away and you realized that after three years together, you still couldn’t imagine wanting a life without him in it.

Arriving home at last, you breathed a sigh of relief into the still air. Paris was exciting and rich with history, but you were glad to be home in the peaceful familiarity of that snobbishly oversized house with its ridiculously spiraling staircases and its somewhat-less-fastidiously-pristine rooms, which now accommodated both of your things. All of the picture frames that once held impersonal stock photos displayed real snapshots of your lives together.

You weren’t even going to shower. You were so tired, you just wanted to rip all your clothes off and drop into bed. Frederick pulled his tie off. Hair frumpy from the long plane and taxi rides, his fingers worked to undo the top buttons of his shirt as he lumbered to the bath. He stopped at the door and turned back. You were taking a sip of water before leaving the cup on your nightstand.

“Marry me?” he said.

[kenganwritings]

a warm cup of tea

Life has its ups and downs. His, in particular has been a challenge, yet also a blessing. Right now, Mokichi Robinson has a worry that is a bit of a happy problem: how well Elena and his partner will get along.

For Anon, I hope you enjoy!

It was nerve-wracking to introduce the person you love to family. Especially someone whom you’d  been dating for so long. To be honest, Mokichi didn’t know how, in the two years they’d dated, he had never brought his partner to meet Elena. Their schedules never quite aligned, especially after Elena went to college; but now that they had the chance, his little sister insisted greatly that they finally meet. And so, Mokichi invited his partner to his house for tea.

Looking at it objectively, it was really quite a simple occasion. A casual date like he and his partner had many times before, except Elena would be joining in now. Yet there was a tension in his shoulders that wouldn’t go away, and he just couldn’t seem to relax.

“Brother?”

Elena’s voice snapped Mokichi out of his thoughts; she wore a concerned frown.

“Is something wrong, Elena?”

“You were spacing out just now. I thought perhaps your wounds…”

Mokichi smiled at her and shook his head. “It’s not that, I’m fine.” It wasn’t until he caught sight of the already-set table that he’d realised how long he’d been lost in his thoughts. “Using the fancy tableware today?”

“Of course! It’s a special occasion, after all. I can’t wait to meet them.” She laughed.

Elena’s cheerfulness was contagious, and Mokichi found himself chuckling along with her. “They’ll be here soon enough. I hope you two get along.”

“I think we shall, after everything you’ve told me. It honestly feels like I already know them.”

“Is that so?” Mokichi didn’t think he’d talked about his partner so much, but before he could question Elena about that, the doorbell rang.

Seeing his partner, Mokichi instinctively pulled them close for a hug, and placed a soft kiss on their lips. “It’s good to see you, my love,” he whispered in their ear. As he pulled back, he caught sight of Elena grinning at the both of them.

“It’s nice to meet you, finally! I’m Elena.” Instead of a handshake, his younger sister hugged his partner before ushering them inside.

Mokichi’s previous anxiety surfaced once more, briefly, but Elena and their partner conversed so smoothly that Mokichi began wondering why he was ever worried. The two spoke at length about their interests and sharing stories; it was like they hadn’t just met each other that day. Time passed quickly, and before he knew it, the pot of tea was nearly empty. Before he could offer to refill it, however, the conversation took a turn he honestly hadn’t expected.

“Will I be seeing you more often?” Elena asked. “The way Mokichi speaks of you, I feel like I should be looking forward to having another sibling.” The hint of a mischievous smile was on her lips, and she giggled as Mokichi choked.

“Elena,” he started. “That’s a tad-”

“It all depends on your brother, but I hope I get the chance to call you my sister-in-law,” his partner cut in.

Mokichi turned towards them with wide eyes. They continued to smile, as though they hadn’t just proclaimed their desire to get married in front of him- and more importantly, Elena.

But his sister didn’t react with surprise at all. “Hopefully it will be soon, then! If… it’s not too forward of me to say, considering we just met…” When Elena set the cup down, her cheeks were faintly pink. “I already consider you as part of our family.”

The words were familiar. A distant memory came to him, of opening his heart to a young girl, both stranger and sister…

“Mokichi?”

It seemed he was bad at hiding his emotions. Mokichi smiled softly at the two people dearest to him. “Sorry about that. How about I get more tea for us?”

“Yes, please!” Elena chirped, and turned back to his partner. ”Did Mokichi ever tell you…”

He left the two to bond, taking the empty pot with him. Even in the kitchen, Mokichi could hear their laughter, warm and comforting. Elena was right, he thought. They were already like family.