#summer! i finally have a taste of something reminiscent of summer romance

[marblesouled]

can i just say my crush is the hottest human being ever? it's criminal how good she looks, should be illegal

[parkerflix]

skz as songs on my sad playlist

i’m in a mood and idk i just wanna tag them as my favorite sad songs + small blurbs

cw: mentions of: toxic relationships, heartbreak, ANGST, implications of sex and minimal drug use (like the mention of a drug), cheating, unrequited love, pining

playlist can be found here

•••••

bang chan;

jealous by labrinth

-just imagining chan watching you while having your best friend movie night (that is required!!!) and you end up texting your new boyfriend , and his heart breaks a little when he sees you stop paying attention to the movie but thinks nothing much of it. then you become more distant and you end up getting into an argument about your friendship being torn to pieces, and that’s when he finally says that he’s in love with you. and that’s when the light and fire goes out in you because you know you don’t reciprocate the feelings. you both say you need time apart, for him to move on and for you to figure things out, but you never come back together as friends. he sees you with you boyfriend, and his heart aching as you don’t notice him. but he knows at the end of the day, your happiness is most important to him.

minho;

strawberries and cigarettes by troye sivan

- your relationship with minho was always one that was a bit rocky, both of you lived a fast paced life. you seemed to be a “bad influence” on him according to his friends, but they knew you two were so in love. so what happened? he started to slow down, and started to really consider settling down with you and creating a home rather than a tent. you wanted to keep going, still having that wanderlust and curiosity that minho loved so much. but when it came down to it, he realized that you would never be the type to want to settle down. so he let you go, his heart aching, and the last kiss you shared tasting of strawberries and cigarettes, something that would always linger in minho’s mind whenever he reminisced about your relationship.

changbin;

break my heart again by finneas

-changbin and you were the most on and off relationship any of the boys had seen. the hot and cold of your relationship kept everyone on their toes, and kept you both constantly on edge. this time was no exception. the muddled happy and sad memories bled into each other to the point where you didn’t know which was which. changbin had called things off again this time. you both ended up giving up for a bit, before being attracted to each other and starting the cycle over. you were like magnets, pulled towards each other. everyone could see that this cycle would start again, with your relationship being great, and slowly turning into the fights, sleepless nights on the couch, camping out in a friend’s house, and breaking up. but you were okay with it. you would allow changbin to break your heart over and over again if it meant he would end up coming back.

hyunjin;

white horse by taylor swift

-you hadn’t expected to see hyunjin on your front door. his eyes seemed to be duller than you had ever seen them, and your heart clenched at the thought of him being near you. when you met him, it felt like a fairy tale and a dream come true. you had longed for a romance novel love, and you finally got it with him. but soon after the happily ever after and the credits ended, you started to pick up on some new behaviors and moods he was in. he seemed more distant, and would put on this facade that he seemed to believe fooled you. it wasn’t until you saw him with the other person that everything clicked. you confronted him then and there, and it felt as if your world was crumbling. you both broke up, and you wallowed for weeks before you finally decided that he wasn’t worth it and the fairytale love you desperately wanted was just a dream. so finding him here on your front door, tears starting to flow freely from his eyes as he pleads and begs you to give him another chance, because he’s finally realized that you were the one he wanted the most in the world, made you feel somewhat nostalgic and sad. you helped him wipe his tears away, but told him that it was too late. and with that you wished him well and closed the door, and hyunjin thought you could probably hear his heart breaking like yours had.

jisung;

lookalike by conan gray

- jisung thought it was a bit comical. your new boyfriend looked just like him. his mannerisms were similar and even your friends pointed it out when you started dating. jisung laughed seeing you and your boyfriend walking past him at the park, thinking about how you must still be hung up on him. after all he did end things with you because things just weren’t working out between you two. he knew that everytime you looked at your boyfriend you saw him, and that your boyfriend was just a replacement for jisung. or maybe that’s what he wanted to believe. he wanted to believe that you were dating this new guy that looked like him because you were still hung up on him, that you would realize it one day and go back to jisung. he wanted to believe that you thought about him as much as he thought about you. but as he saw you and your boyfriend- no- fiancé,walking hand in hand, he thought maybe he was the one that needed to find someone like you.

felix;

amnesia + ghost of you by five seconds of summer

- felix was numb. he didn’t know how to process that you were in a new relationship. your smiling face on his lockscreen along with you poking his cheek, made his stomach churn when he looked at it. you hadn’t moved away too long ago, so how was it that you were able to move on so quickly? felix was a little jealous of how easily you could move on. everyday for him was like a nightmare he couldn’t wake up from. your ghost lingered everywhere he went, and in everything he saw. your figure seemed to haunt him in the most random places, he once had sworn he had seen you dancing in the ice cream aisle at the grocery store (you in fact, were not there but at the beach with your new friends). his friends could tell he was having a hard time moving on, his eyes glued to your instagram post of you and your partner, wearing matching pajamas and the biggest grins on your face. you moving away all the way to another country had allowed you to escape the ghost of felix, but it seemed he couldn’t escape yours. maybe it was time for him to move as well. to try to escape your ghost and ignore the hole in his heart left by your departure.

seungmin;

slow dancing in the dark by joji

-seungmin knew you were better off with the other person trying to win your affection. he knew that you two weren’t compatible, and that no matter how he felt about you, it wasn’t the best for you. so he did what he could do. he pushed you away as much as he could, trying to push you into the arms of another. it hurt his heart everytime you would coming up to him, trying to figure out what caused his sudden change in behavior around you. he thought he had succeeded in pushing you away enough, until you had cornered him one day trying to talk to him, which resulted in you both arguing and him telling you that he wasn’t good enough for you. you told him that he didn’t get to decide that for you, and you were going to keep fighting for your friendship (and your much wanted relationship with him). but he finally said the words that broke you. he didn’t want you. and with that, the light in your eyes gave out, and you walked away from him, tears flowing freely down your face. as soon as you were far enough, he broke down in tears knowing that this was the best for you. he couldn’t compete with the other. and weeks later when he saw you with the former, he knew that the ache in his heart was gonna be okay.

Jeongin;

drew barrymore by sza

- seeing jeongin walk in with her made you bring the drink that your best friend had poured you up to your mouth. you were embarrassed that even after all this time, when push came to shove, jeongin always picked someone else over you. you both had messed around with each other and had clearly blurred the line between friend and something more. although it seemed to be one sided. you knew that soon, you would have to cut things off with jeongin, but you didn’t want to admit that you had feelings for the boy. but soon came, and when he pulled you into an empty room, and started kissing you, you knew that it was time. you knew that the sweet nothings he had whispered in your ear everytime you met were just that- sweet nothings. but yet you fell for them and now we’re paying the price. you pulled him off of you, and explained that you couldn’t do whatever you had going on anymore. he seemed concerned for a second, which made you think that he in fact did care, until he shrugged and moved towards the door. he wished you well, not bothering to look back at you. as the door closed, you felt your heart break, along with your brain telling you that your thoughts were correct the entire time.

[potatocrab]

Salvation is a Last Minute Business (15/18)

Chapter 15: The Liar’s Kiss That Says I Love You

A return to New England Medical Center finds Madelyn struggling with who she can trust. She and Deacon have a long conversation about the power of truth and lies, and she learns one more of his closely guarded secrets. At a Railroad safehouse, the two reminisce on their first operation and realize they may have fallen into a cliché after all.

“Kiss me, Mike. I want you to kiss me. The liar’s kiss that says I love you and means something else.” - Lily Carver as played by Gaby Rodgers (Kiss Me Deadly, 1955)

x-x

This chapter contains mild/not-so-mild sexual content. Proceed at your own desire! When you see the French language being used, you have reached the point of no return! 

Major thanks to @glowstickia​ for her help on the French resources. :)

[read on Ao3] |  [chapter masterpost]

May 30th, 1958

Madelyn had hoped she wouldn’t have a reason to visit the New England Medical Center so soon, memories of Nick’s hospitalization and near-death experience at the hands of Eddie Winter fresh in her mind. Yet there she was, struggling to ignore the sympathetic glances from the familiar faces of doctors and nurses as they patched up her arm and provided her with a tetanus shot—undoubtedly more painful than her injury, at least without the surge of adrenaline to dull her senses. Who would have guessed that a needle could hurt worse than a bullet?

The same medical staff allowed her to stay with Drummer Boy in his assigned recovery room, despite the fact she was of no relation. It was likely out of pity for all they had seen her experience in recent months. Between everything that had happened to her and Nick when they went after Eddie Winter in April, Jenny’s death when the hospital was ambushed thereafter, and now an attempted assassination at her own apartment—Madelyn was starting to think her luck—if she had any to begin with—was running out.

By the grace of God—or maybe Drummer Boy’s perfect timing—she’d escaped relatively unharmed. He wasn’t so fortunate, but the commotion of the shooting hadn’t gone unnoticed in her Cambridge neighborhood. When the Boston Police arrived, she was initially surprised to see Sergeant Sullivan, but considering he was the last trustworthy cop left in the city, she was grateful for his presence. He ensured that she and Drummer Boy got to the New England Medical Center in a timely manner while his task force secured the area. Madelyn wasn’t completely comfortable with the idea of strange men lurking about her apartment, but she had little choice but to agree.

In the quiet of Drummer Boy’s room, she finally had a chance to process what had occurred and how close she had come to death—again. An unknown assailant dared to attack Madelyn in her own home, where she was most vulnerable. The list of suspects in her mind narrowed down to one as she thought about the agency’s infiltration of Fort Hagen, and the smuggled documents on Kellogg. While there hadn’t been any sightings of him since the late 40s, his vanishing act did little to ease anyone’s mind. The proof was in the casefile—Kellogg had a way of finding the people he deemed unfit for life. It made sense that he’d come for her, especially if he really was an agent of the Institute—they were likely to have their own list of reasons for wanting her dead.

An unsettling notion entered her mind as she thought about the man who had stalked her and Deacon before and again at the Cambridge campus on the day of the demonstration. What if it was him who had attempted to kill her, and not Kellogg as she assumed? What if it was a random android, set up in a building across the street, programmed to shoot into her apartment window at a specific time? Worse yet, what if the would-be assassin was just another one of the Institute’s experiments? Just another name, another face to get lost in the crowd—just as Piper feared. That meant nobody was beyond suspicion, not when it was still unknown just how long the Institute had been performing these so-called brain augmentations—if they were even behind the attack in the first place.

Madelyn clasped Drummer Boy’s hand tight as the paranoia and anxiety settled in. She couldn’t live like that—constantly looking over her shoulder—living in fear. She couldn’t go through life wondering who was or wasn’t worthy of her trust. Not when she’d finally gained back her sense of security—her sense of sanity—her sense of self. After Nate’s death, after Eddie Winter, after everything—the last thing she wanted was to fall back into the endless spiral of despair.

You can’t trust everyone.

The words echoed in her mind like so many times before, her chest tightening under the painful realization of how true they were. Madelyn closed her eyes the moment tears clouded her vision, clenching her jaw so tight she feared her teeth might chip. Anything to prevent herself from crying. It didn’t matter that she was (mostly) alone—she was so exhausted from so many nights of crying. Perhaps it was her concentration that made it difficult to hear the echoing footsteps in the hallway or the soft knock. It wasn’t until the door began to creak open that she reacted, recoiling in a way that she nearly fell out of her chair.

“Charmer?”

“Deacon?”

Madelyn breathed out his name, relieved it was him and not anyone else. While the doctors and nurses provided some comfort, it paled in comparison to the intimacy they shared. Still undefined, still unspoken—but undeniably close.

He hesitated, quietly closing the door behind him as he observed her, eyebrows raised high above the frame of his darkened shades. For as stoic and pensive as she’d seen him be in the past, especially when reacting to various tragedies and disastrous events, he appeared to be faltering now. It was always difficult to fully discern his emotions when half his face was obscured, but he looked curious, if not concerned. His silence indicated he was likely worried too, but Deacon would never say it outright.

Madelyn’s pulse gradually settled, but she had a difficult time fully relaxing under his watchful gaze. In that moment, with her willpower drained, she looked away. She focused on Drummer Boy’s steady breathing, brushing the pad of her thumb across his wrist and hospital band.

“Danny—Sullivan,” Deacon corrected himself, slowly moving to stand near the end of the hospital bed. “He tracked me and Valentine down, took us back to your apartment.”

“I know,” she responded, barely above a whisper. “I had him do so.”

“Ol’ Nick took a lot of convincing to stay behind,” he explained, setting down the canvas bag and glass Tupperware he carried on the small table. “But he didn’t want to leave those cops unsupervised. Even if they’re Sullivan’s men—”

You can’t trust everyone—he didn’t have to say it.

“It figures,” she sighed, closing her eyes again. “Probably looked like somebody died, huh?”

Deacon remained silent, though she could hear him, feel him, approaching. Soon enough, he was standing at her side, causing a tingle to run up her spine—an unexplainable feeling—but her skin suddenly ached for the simplest form of touch. As if he could read her mind (and she wouldn’t be surprised if he could), he rested his hand over hers and Drummer Boy’s. Madelyn immediately snapped open her eyes with a sharp inhale of air, momentarily stunned by the contact.

She needed more.

In an instant she was standing, clinging to him with her arms wrapped tight around his shoulders as she pressed up on her toes, tired feet and aching shoulder be damned. Deacon was quick to return the embrace, holding her close as he kept his arms snug around her torso. Madelyn stayed there, face pressed against the soft wool of his coat—she wanted to tease him for wearing it so near to summer but now she was grateful for the comfort it provided. She didn’t cry, despite the fact that she wanted to, and probably needed to as well. Bristling with quiet desperation, the only thing Madelyn was sure of was that she didn’t want to be alone.  

“I just—” she started after a long stretch of silence. “I’d like to go home.”  

Deacon gradually pulled her away, easing her back so her heeled feet were level with the ground. He swept back a few errant curls behind her ear, fingers lingering along the curve of her cheek. At first, she thought he might kiss her, but he skewed his lips to the side instead. “No can do, Charmer.”

Madelyn sighed—she knew that, but it was worth a try. Her eyes danced over to the belongings on the table. Deacon sensed her curiosity.

“Codsworth insisted I bring you something to eat,” he explained, nodding his chin towards the glass container.

“Better left for Drummer Boy. I’m told hospital food tastes of despair,” she flashed a meek smile. “And the bag?”

“Some clothes for you,” he said. “Any chance to rifle through your naughty drawer.”

If it were anybody else, she wouldn’t have appreciated such an ill-timed joke. Deacon’s smirk relaxed into a gentler expression, his thumb tracing down the angle of her chin towards her mouth. “Let’s get you someplace safe.”

There was a hidden meaning to his words that had Madelyn equal parts excited and trembling with anxiety. He wanted her safe, but also alone—all to himself. They’d kissed, crossed that barrier two weeks prior. But whatever was to come next was to be determined, put on hold, as their focus quickly became centered on finding Kellogg and infiltrating the Institute. Romance could wait—or maybe it couldn’t.

What was she so afraid of?

Finally, she spoke. “Do you trust me?”

“You’ve asked that before,” he responded in a low, contemplative voice.

He was right—Madelyn had poised the question on more than one occasion. And the last time, just as before, he hadn’t given a straight answer. It was always easy enough for her to assume and take his presence for granted. But now more than ever, she needed honesty—if it was even possible. She wanted nothing more than to be engulfed in the flame they’d ignited, but she’d sooner snuff out the fire if he couldn’t give her this one answer.

“I know that lying is your profession. That you’d sooner court death than the truth,” she paused, reluctantly leaning away from his touch, noting the glimmer of disappointment in his features. “Against better judgement, I trust you.”

“But I need to know that you feel the same—that you trust me,” Madelyn expressed, doing her best not to sound like she was pleading. “Not just as your partner in the Railroad, but—”

She broke off, grasping his hand as part of her silent allusion. There was a subtlety to his reaction, but enough of one that told her he understood the inference. Deacon said nothing, eyebrows firmly creased together as he considered her words. The silence dragged on enough that she felt foolish for saying anything in the first place. She tried not to feel overly disappointed or react in a disproportionate way—the last thing Madelyn wanted was an argument.

“There’s an imbalance,” she mumbled, unsure of her train of thought. “You know so much about me, a fault of my own—Nick always said I wore my heart on my sleeve—” She was definitely rambling. Blame it on her grief—she couldn’t stop. “But you are and always have been an enigma, Deacon. Your face, your hair…hell, your real age,” her eyes darted over his face as her heart raced loud enough she could hear it echoing in her skull. “Your name.”

His reaction wasn’t subtle that time. Deacon pulled away, and Madelyn feared she’d crossed a line and offended him. But he didn’t storm out of the room—rather, he dug through his coat and jacket pockets, muttering something incoherent under his breath until he pulled free a leather billfold with a triumphant sort of grin. He placed it in her hands as if she’d asked for it.

“Go on,” he encouraged with a sideways smirk.

Madelyn didn’t move an inch, only taking a quick glance at the wallet before meeting his face again. “What—”

“You could’ve lifted that off of me at any time,” he interrupted, gesturing to the faded black material. “Looked at my ID and taken some money while you’re at it. All in a day’s work for a spy.”

She frowned—it seemed honesty for him was as bad as pulling teeth. Her legal studies were easier than this. Madelyn decided to call his bluff, turning over the billfold in her hand. “A spy like you would obviously carry more than one identification.”

“Obviously,” he agreed with a nod. “But one of them is bound to be legitimate. Even a no-good scoundrel like me needs a clean copy for official reasons—never know when you’re going to end up in a pickle or interrogated by some charming blonde.”

Madelyn, understandably, had doubts as her irritation lingered. Even if she wanted to take a look, could she really open what was akin to opening Pandora’s box? Did she really want to know? What if this was just another elaborate trick? Deacon titled his head just enough that she caught a glimpse of his eyes in the low light of the room. He was serious now, all trace of humor erased from his expression.

“I trust you.”

A shockwave rippled through her body causing a deep warmth to radiate in her chest. He might as well have told her—

Madelyn blinked hard, shaking the idea from her mind. One step at a time. Trust. He slowly circled around her to be closer to Drummer Boy’s bedside, and she turned to watch his movements, still hesitating to flip open the leather billfold. Deacon leaned over the hospital bed, as if to verify the agent wasn’t secretly awake and eavesdropping on their conversation. She sat back down in the nearby chair before giving into her curiosity.

She wasn’t sure what a typical man’s wallet was supposed to contain, but Deacon’s was full of various cards and trinkets—paper receipts and scribbled notes, raffle tickets of undetermined origin. Just as she predicted, and he admitted to, there were multiple state identification cards. Many were for Massachusetts, but there was one for Virginia, and one for Washington D.C.—unsurprisingly with the obviously fake name of George Washington.

Madelyn flicked through the paper cards, finding humor in some of the clever names and disguises—Horatio Williams from Worcester County, Simon Rock from Plymouth, Guy Granger from Richmond, and Harry Morgan from Nantucket. It wasn’t until she settled on a well-faded card that she gave pause. The Deacon in the black-and-white picture was recognizable, but only because she’d seen him without his usual pompadour wig and sunglasses. The full name wasn’t visible, worn from many years of handling but she saw enough of the bold lettering—Johnathan Daniel. She knew immediately it wasn’t a fake.

“Old testament,” she muttered, half-jokingly, under her breath. At least he hadn’t lied about his Catholic upbringing. Madelyn looked up to find him whispering—praying—as he gently held onto Drummer Boy’s arm, his other hand resting against the other man’s shoulder. The sight was unexpected, to say the least, and gave her insight that perhaps their relationship stretched beyond the Railroad too.

“Drummer Boy—Robby,” she corrected herself. “He wasn’t lying when he said John D formed the Railroad.”

Deacon shrugged, glancing at her over his shoulder, as if he expected her to say that. “He wasn’t,” he confirmed, plainly. He didn’t even ask when, or why Drummer Boy told her such information. “John D didn’t do it alone.”

“No,” Madelyn knew the history, thanks to the stories and a little digging of her own. “But Wyatt isn’t around anymore, now is he?”

“He isn’t.”

“And John D?” she asked tentatively.

Deacon grinned, if only for a fleeting moment. “He’s around.”

It was confirmation enough, and Madelyn decided not to pry for a straight answer—she’d gotten plenty from him already when he confirmed his trust. Now was not the time to cross boundaries, even as more unanswered questions rattled through her mind. With a deep and steadying breath, she allowed herself to become content with the knowledge that she was one of the lucky few—if not the only one—who knew this truth.

The silence was interrupted by a soft grumbling as Drummer Boy gradually regained consciousness. Madelyn abruptly stood, dropping Deacon’s wallet into the chair and rushing to the bedside to ensure he was okay. It took several moments for him to blink the exhaustion from his eyes, and he cleared his throat a few times before relaxing against the pillows again. The Railroad agent lazily glanced up at the two, flashing Madelyn a groggy smile. When Drummer Boy looked at Deacon, his face scrunched up, stuck between a frown and a glare.

“You still owe me,” he mumbled, causing Deacon to softly laugh. “Two dollars.”

The moon still hung high in the sky by the time Madelyn and Deacon left the New England Medical Center, though she wasn’t entirely sure of how much time had passed since she first left the agency, visited Nate’s grave, and returned to her apartment, only to be shot at by an unknown assailant—it had been a long day. All she knew was that her body ached, and that she was desperate for sleep.

After a short taxi ride into the Fens district, Deacon navigated the two through a nondescript area. She lacked the energy to comment on allowing handsome men to lead her into strange alleyways, but the amusement still brought a smile to her face. Outside an old, brick apartment building she noticed two Railroad insignias itched into the wall—one for safehouse, and another for ally.

“Mercer?” she assumed.

He nodded, escorting her inside the building. “Home sweet home.”

Unlike her Cambridge apartment, the elevators there were in working order. Madelyn couldn’t help but yawn as she leaned against Deacon’s shoulder, hoping the safehouse had an ample supply of pillows. He slowly guided her drowsy form down the hallway to the correct door, propping her under his arm as he fished through his pockets for his keys.

“Do you want me to carry you over the threshold?” he teased as soon as he pushed the door open.

Madelyn snickered, and snagged the bag of her belongings from his arm. “Haven’t you learned by now I’m a capable woman?”

He laughed, allowing her to enter ahead of him into the apartment. It was just about the same size as hers, with a mirrored layout and less furniture. Seeing as it was meant as a halfway-house for weary and temporary travelers, it made sense that it wouldn’t feel as lived in. There was a couch, a record player, and a small bookshelf with an assortment of books. The kitchen was modest as well—a small island bar with a few leftover coffee cups and newspapers, as well as a cardboard box from the nearby pizzeria.  

Madelyn followed the pathway of the hallway to the bathroom, glancing over her shoulder to find Deacon loitering by the refrigerator. As soon as she was alone in the tiny, tiled room, she took several moments to examine herself in the mirror. It wasn’t nearly as bad as the last time she found herself covered in blood—a macabre thought—the hospital staff had done a decent job at cleaning washing away the evidence from her skin. But there she was with another ruined dress, stained and torn from where the bullet had grazed her shoulder.

She thought to check her wedding ring for streaks of red when she realized she wasn’t even wearing it. A flicker of guilt washed over her as she remembered she’d removed it before the undercover operation at Fort Hagen. Maybe she should be relieved it was still safe and sound at her apartment—not like Deacon would’ve snagged it off her jewelry stand. Madelyn decided to look through the bag to see what he did grab. There were two dresses and stockings that complimented her current pair of heels, and she was grateful that they were appropriate for the May weather. Tucked beneath that was one of her silk nightgowns and matching robes, along with some undergarments. Rather than feel embarrassed, she could only sigh, appreciative that she had something comfortable to change into.

She quickly kicked off her heels, leaving them at the foot of the sink as she removed the rest of her clothes. She draped her discarded dress and stockings over the shower curtain rod before slipping on the pale blue nightgown, securing the robe around her body with a tight knot. She wiggled her toes against the cool floor and sighed. With one last glance in the mirror to ensure she hadn’t missed an errant mark of blood, she flicked off the light and left the bathroom.

In the kitchen, Deacon was preparing two glasses of whiskey as he stood by the island bar, pausing in his actions to watch her slow approach. “Well now I feel overdressed.”

Ironic, considering she’d never seen him so relaxed. He had discarded his wool coat and suit jacket, left hanging over the back of the living couch. Even his shoes were missing, and a cursory scan of the room didn’t give her any indication of where he’d placed them. Madelyn could only mimic his expression.

“You’re the one who packed my bag,” she replied. “I sense sabotage is at play.”

Deacon mocked offense. “I’d never.”

“Before you take the bed and resign me to the couch,” he continued, gaining her attention. He gestured to the freshly poured drinks and the pizza box. “I made a promise to a very pushy Mister Handy unit that you’d be fed, and I’m one to keep promises. Even if they are to robots with British accents.”

Madelyn laughed, imaging Codsworth’s worrying pestering. When her stomach growled, she decided that as tired as she was, sleep could wait. Deacon pulled out the barstool for her so she could sit before occupying the set next to her, sliding her the glass tumbler of whiskey and cardboard box of leftovers. She’d had worse meals but in that moment, cold pizza and alcohol was like heaven. Still, she could sense Deacon watching her carefully from the corner of her eye, and she sighed into her glass.

“I don’t want to talk about what happened,” she explained, nervously meeting his shielded gaze. “Not now, not when I’ll just have to repeat it all over again when we meet with the others in the morning or—” she glanced to the clock hanging on the wall and groaned. “In a few hours.”

Deacon didn’t push. “Whatever you need, Charmer.”

“How does the line go?” he mused. “You know how to whistle…”

“I thought I was Bacall,” Madelyn joked mid-chew. “Mr. Bogart.”

She hadn’t forgotten that conversation from their first meeting, a flirtatious tease of falling in love like two Hollywood starlets in the latest noir film. Madelyn would’ve never guessed that all these months later, it had played out exactly as predicted. She smiled, and so did he.

“Looks like we fell into the cliché after all,” she whispered, eyes darting across his face, lingering on his mouth. “What do you think?”

Deacon finished off his whiskey with a slow sip before answering. “Tu as de beaux yeux tu sais.”

Madelyn was momentarily taken aback, suddenly wishing she’d taken French as a foreign language in school instead of Gaelic—all her Irish relatives were deceased anyways, what was the point? Was Deacon deflecting again? Something about his tone and the way he turned towards her said otherwise. He used his legs to scoot her barstool closer to him, the movement causing her to lean forward and brace her palms flat against his chest so she wouldn’t smash her forehead against his nose. His hands came to rest on her waist as he gradually eased her closer.

“Si je te disais que tu avais un beau corps, tu m’en tiendrais rigueur?”

A question whispered against the shell of her ear that sent her heart racing, mind going blank as she only thought about Deacon’s heated breath along the column of her throat. Madelyn allowed herself to edge nearer to his body still until she was practically straddling his thigh, teetering on the edge of her chair, arms loosely wrapped around his shoulders.

He continued murmuring what she assumed were sweet-nothings against her skin—though they could be nonsense and she’d still be melting in his hands. “On devrait t'arrêter pour excès de beauté sur la voie publique.”

“Est-ce que tu fais partie du menu?”

What about a menu? She pondered if what he was telling her bordered on filth, but the idea only excited her. Madelyn sharply inhaled, angling her neck to give him greater access despite the fact his lips hadn’t made direct contact with her skin. When he finally reached her mouth, he paused, one hand reaching up to hold the side of her face steady.

“Dis moi ce que tu veux,” he said. After a beat, he repeated himself, this time so she could understand. “Tell me what you want.”

Madelyn didn’t hesitate to move her hands to his face, fingers wrapping around the metal frame of his glasses before gently removing them, setting them down on the kitchen counter. She held his face with her palms, taking a long moment to stare deep into his steely blue eyes. It had been more than a month since she’d seen them like this, and yet it felt like she was seeing them for the first time—brilliant, vibrant and beautiful.

“You,” she breathed the answer, the most honest she’d felt in years. “Deacon, I want you.”

There was a glimmer to his eyes she couldn’t place as he briefly smirked before wordlessly closing the distance between them with a slow, but needy kiss. It didn’t take long at all for it to grow heated, the hand on her waist silently encouraging her to scoot closer until she was fully seated across his lap, knees on either side of his thighs. Deacon balanced her against him as they hungrily kissed, a groan echoing in his throat as she frantically pushed the suspenders from his shoulders before moving her fingers to undo the buttons of his shirt. It seemed that now that the damn was broken, Madelyn couldn’t wait for the rush—patience be damned.  

He matched her fervor, one hand darting to the silken knot at her waist and blinding tugging until he broke away from their kiss to glare down at the confusing tangle. With a curse he pulled open her robe and she shrugged it from her body, softly moaning as his lips instantly collided with the outline of her collarbone before the garment reached the floor. As Deacon kissed a trail along her skin, Madelyn threaded her hands through his hair, breathing a laugh when she remembered it was a wig. He didn’t seem to mind as she removed it—too preoccupied with leaving patterns on her neck—exposing the ginger locks she admired. Just as she returned to run her fingers through those soft waves, he leaned back out of reach. She didn’t have time to be confused as he hoisted her into his arms as he stood, holding her as if she weighed nothing.

Madelyn gasped and still clutched his arms in the fear that she’d be dropped. At first, she assumed he would carry her to the couch, or the bedroom, but he simply placed her on the island bar instead. With a sweep of his arm, he pushed away the clutter to make room for her body, thrilling her to the core. She watched as Deacon peeled off his dress shirt, moving her hands to his belt on the assumption—and perhaps eagerly—that they were to make love right there. He covered her hands with his own, stopping her with a soft chuckle, but it wasn’t meant to taunt her.

“Lie back,” he instructed, voice laced with desire.

Madelyn complied, swallowing down the last traces of anxiety as she eased back onto her elbows. She was so entranced by his actions that she almost forgot to breathe, eyes locked onto his face as his gaze raked over her body and the length of her legs. Deacon’s hands were soft as they traced up from her ankles to her calves and eventually to her thighs, gradually spreading apart her knees to make enough space for his body. Those striking eyes of his found hers as his hands trailed further, past the lace trim of her nightgown until heated fingers traced the outline of her underwear. Those same deft fingers pulled away the fabric just enough so he could touch, an agonizing drag along her already dampened folds. It was enough for Madelyn to completely collapse against the cold tile of the counter, tossing her head back as she moaned loudly. Just how touch starved had she been?  

“Don’t close your eyes,” Deacon said, and she desperately fought to snap them open as he continued, and then stopped.

She whimpered, almost against her own volition. He was already gradually sliding her underwear down her legs until they slipped off and to the floor. Instead of his hands, it was his mouth that followed the trail up her legs, and Madelyn was sure her heart was going to burst right out her chest. It didn’t take a detective to know what he was planning, and the pure eroticism of it all—splayed out on a kitchen counter—made her skin prickle with arousal.

Deacon pushed up the silken fabric of her nightgown before hooking one knee around his shoulder, spreading her other thigh out so that his hand could easily trace along her skin. His fingers found her wet heat again, far from teasing as he probed her entrance, eliciting loader groans from her. Just as he found a steady rhythm, he replaced his hand with his mouth, and Madelyn could feel her stomach coiling at the sensation already. She was writhing, uncaring how unhinged she appeared, completely lost to the passion he was inflicting upon her. It was only fitting that the man who was so gifted at intrigue would be this talented with his mouth—Deacon was through, relentless.

Madelyn’s mind was a haze, and she couldn’t hear anything besides her own rapid pulse and intense breathing. No doubt she was chanting his name like a prayer, whispering quiet praises and pleadings that he wouldn’t stop because—oh God—she was so close, and—Jesus—she hadn’t felt so alive in years. There was more blasphemy and curses, and she was sure she was going to hell—maybe it was worth it—if this was what sin felt like.

When she came, it was blinding, and her entire body trembled uncontrollably as Deacon’s hands moved to cradle her, mouth unmoving from her core until she was spent. Madelyn still took several minutes to regain her bearings, staring up at the ceiling in delirious wonder.

“Deacon?” she titled her head to find him resting against the counter, arms draped across her body as his hands rubbed slowly up and down her sides. He glanced up at her with a lazy, self-satisfied sort of smile, and she decided he deserved it.

“I’m here,” he answered.

She softly laughed. “I’d like you to carry me now.”

Deacon was slow to move but eventually leaned back, grasping her hands to help her gradually sit up straight. He hooked one arm under her knees, the other around her torso and gave her a sideways glance so she’d hold onto his shoulder for balance. Madelyn again found herself amused at how easy he made it seem, pausing on his way out of the kitchen to turn off the front room lights. They made their way towards the bedroom in the darkness, though Deacon didn’t appear perturbed, as if he had every inch of the place memorized by touch.

Compared to the rest of the apartment, the bedroom filled more belongings and looked like it had a regular visitor. There were more books scattered there than in the front room, and several bags of clothes that had been diligently organized. Madelyn didn’t have to ask to know the regular tenant was Deacon. The shades of the window were open, allowing the light of the moon to cast a soft light of white into the room and across the unmade bed. He placed her there, and she stared up at him with curious eyes as he seemed to hesitate for the first time that evening as he slowly unbuckled his belt, sliding down his pants when there was enough slack.

“We can stop, if you want,” Deacon suggested. “The bed is yours. Couch is more comfortable than it looks.”

Madelyn was surprised, and while she appreciated the gesture, she’d expressed her desires. “No.”

“Thought you might say that,” he smirked. He removed his undershirt and tossed it to the floor before sitting on the edge of the mattress, reaching down to pluck the socks off his feet.

When he turned to her, Madelyn was struck by the man she saw in the glow of the moonlight, practically a stranger and yet somebody she trusted her entire life with. Against common sense she’d gone and fallen in love with a beautiful mystery of a man, and nothing thrilled her more. She sat up to meet his advances, kissing him desperately as he worked to lift her nightdress up and off her body.

Madelyn removed her own bra, uncaring if he could do it just as quickly. At this rate, she just wanted to be naked and beneath him as soon as possible. Deacon must’ve found the action amusing, softly laughing against her mouth as he broke away from their kiss to lift off from the bed to discard his briefs. She took the opportunity to lean back against the pillows, pushing back the sudden realization that she was about to have sex for the first time in years—the first time since—

No, she reminded herself, closing her eyes tight. There was no time for that kind of guilt, or for those kinds of memories to permeate this space. With a steadying breath, she blinked open her eyes to find Deacon perched over her, the warmth of his body causing her earlier excitement to spike anew. He lowered himself closer, and she let out a shudder at the feel of his hardened arousal at the junction of her thighs.

“Je t’adore,” he whispered against her ear.

Madelyn turned her head so that she could look at him, lock eyes—blue on blue. She wrapped one leg around his, silently encouraging him as she hooked her arms around his shoulders. “Deacon, please.”

That’s all it took for him to slowly sink into her, the air stolen from her lungs as he became fully seated within her. Deacon moved slow in those initial moments, almost agonizingly so, staying close to her body as he steadily rolled his hips against hers. It wasn’t until she let out a strangled moan and grasped the hair along his scalp that he dared to increase his speed, fully retreating with each thrust before pushing back in. There were more hushed, incoherent and foreign words exchanged, more silent prayers and whispered names against mouths between hungry kisses.

Eventually he leaned back onto his haunches and the angle created a delightful increase to her pleasure and judging by the way Deacon panted and struggled to keep his groans contained, he felt the same. Madelyn felt admired under his gaze, her skin aflame as his blown pupils darted across her naked flesh, fingers digging tightly into her hips as he gradually lost control of his thrusts. She’d been so caught up in her own past that she hardly considered—or remembered—that it had possibly been a long time for him as well.

“Come here,” she beckoned him back to her arms and he practically collapsed against her, their limbs tangling together as they lost themselves to each other.

It didn’t take more than one, two—three punctual thrusts for Madelyn to snap, crying out as she came with a trembling force. Deacon followed shortly thereafter, clinging tightly to her as he snapped his hips tightly to her with a guttural groan. The two stayed coiled together for the next several moments until the spasms passed, Deacon pulling away with a deep exhale as he withdrew to collapse at her side.

Neither said a word as they came down from their individual highs of ecstasy, the room slowly growing quiet as their breathing returned to normal. Madelyn was the first to roll onto her side to face him, and for all that they had shared in the past and just now, she felt strangely bashful. Deacon was already gazing at her with an expression she couldn’t place, the moonlight twinkling in his eyes. Still, the two remained quiet, only regarding each other with similar smiles. He silently urged her to snuggle close against his chest, wrapping their still warm bodies in a thin sheet.

Madelyn still wasn’t sure what the nature of their relationship was, but that was a conversation for another day. She wasn’t about to ruin the moment with a potentially tremulous conversation—not everything needed to be talked through, not everything needed an immediate answer. It was well enough to just be happy in the moment. And despite all the other worries in her life—God—was she happy. She could feel sleep finally calling her into the darkness.

Before she succumbed, she smiled, content to be wrapped up in his arms. “Goodnight, Deacon.”

She convinced herself she was dreaming when he responded minutes, or maybe hours later.

“Goodnight, Madelyn.” 

[starkerisendgame]

so I just learned TODAY that RDJ was trained in classical ballet, and we all know Tom was too, so what about a rom howney au where rob is a principal dancer and tom is a freshly promoted coryphee (member of the corps de ballet that gets a solo because they're particularly talented) and he gets to work with rob and he's starstruck because rob is a LEGEND and rob thinks he's so adorable skskjjdjhfjk sorry i just really love ballerina!aus

Alright! After fucken weeks of research and delving into more ballet porn than I’d ever presumed to watch, I finally managed to fulfil this. Once again, two parter. Because you all keep requesting detailed prompts and I fucking love it and have no self control.

Also; Robert is a principle dancer/premier ballerino but also largely a teaching figure. I don’t know, I’m just so attracted to the fact that Robert is undoubtedly a role model/leader figure to everyone he meets and I couldn’t resist the fact that such a status is basically an open invite into D/s porn.

I’m so used to Starker there may be the odd slip up between names. Idk, slap me. Or not, I’ll enjoy it.

[P.2][Promo + Moodboards]

Robert had first heard of Tom Holland when he was gorging himself on wine and glazed fruits, laughing with his colleagues and friends about some reminisced story of humour. Their table was one of high honour, central to the floor and surrounded by others of similar status, and the words reached his ears from a table of prima ballerina’s to their left, voices flush with wine and loud to his senses.

“Did you see the boy, Aly? So cute! He is so small, but he moves like the water already. I am glad for my age and to be female; he will be stealing the stage soon enough”.

“You’re just soft, Lola. He’s ten; we will be old and reduced to back-dancers and teachers by the time anything comes of him. If anything comes of him. Our world is more cut-throat than even a butcher house”.

It intrigued him, but only in the general way that life and its instances did. Talk of young dancers was aplenty and everyone believed their little cousin or their younger sibling had the promise of a premier ballerino. By the time he donned his coat and staggered for his awaiting car, still flushed with laughter and clinging to Chris, the name was forgotten.

But it had risen like a ghost several times after, in the coming years. Like Robert himself the boy was a prodigy, talented and charismatic in a way that set him apart in a world so full of prospects. Your dancing meant nothing if you did it with the blank face of a corpse.

Robert had never seen the boy dance personally, but somewhere after his twenty-fifth birthday, when the boy was fifteen and blooming into a reputation, Chris shoved a phone under his nose and demanded he watched the footage.It was crisp, taken on a professional camera and was of a brightly lit studio, the reflection of the tripod and its monitoring figure noticeable in the mirrored walls.

Tom Holland danced in a way not unlike what people described of Robert. Fluid, passionate, emotive, perfect. It was enough to make Robert focus, to watch the elegant way the boy moved from wall to wall, feeling as well as hearing the music. And then it ended, and Robert’s life continued with nothing more than a modicum of respect for the boy chiselled into place.

Until now.

Robert had worked every day since the age of two to carve this place for himself in his chosen world. He had given broken bones, sleepless nights and every shred of his dedication to this career. It had rewarded him in kind; premier ballerino roles in every offer since the age of twenty and even a teaching role at the American School of Ballet; a prestigious and reputable educational dance facility where none other than his own friend now sat on the Board.

It was how the situation - and Tom’s name - had arisen. Robert could deny Chris nothing and only arched a brow when he heard about Chris’ plans for his latest performance. Robert was fresh back from Rome and a week-long performance of The Snow Prince and despite the desperate call for rest, was eager to learn of his next routine.

“The Love Born of Summer? You soppy fuck” Robert remarked, scanning the title of the file that Chris slid across the table to him. He sat back, arching a brow at his friend, who looked abashed. Good. Chris was a terrible romantic, for all his crappy history with lovers. Performances like Giselle and the god-awful Nutcracker were Chris’ favourites.

Robert did quite fine with romantic performances. Ballet was not an individual art, and the close proximity and the intimacy that came with dancing was easy to Robert. It was part of why he was so good at what he did. The fact that most of Chris’ troupe were attractive was simply an easy bonus.

Robert considered it as he stroked at the trimmed lines of his stubble, gaze sliding from Chris to the many art pieces that lined the walls of the office space. The Love Born of Summer was a largely romantic piece; based loosely on several other classics. As per standard, two star-crossed lovers endure a perilous and heartfelt journey into a romantic end.

“The routine isn’t all that different to the first time you performed it. I’ve worked out a few hitches here and there, and I’ve made it more…Dramatic. Intimate. Y’know, since you’re so fond of dancing like you’re fucking” Chris sighed, as though the words pained him despite their amused lilt. Robert could not argue his own statement. After all, what was ballet if not a sensual thing?

And what was romance, if not a sexual thing? At least for him.

“And pray tell, darling. Who am I dance-fucking this time, hm? Is it you and your biceps? I have so missed them around my thighs” Robert purred, eliciting a delightful blush that started at Chris’ ears and dipped all the way beneath the alarmingly low V of his shirt. Chris and Robert didn’t dance together half as often as they used to, with their new responsibilities, but Chris was undoubtedly one of Robert’s favourite dance partners.

Robert oft missed their time together, and here and there a brief touch of longing for their previous intimacy would linger. But Chris’ husband Sebastian was downright delightful and whilst they had their chemistry together, Robert knew that himself and Chris were better suited to a platonic love, couple-y though they might act.

Robert was a lavish lover and he ate life like a sweet dessert, forever roaming in search of new tastes and new experiences. Insatiable, no matter how ‘full’ he felt of his memories. ‘You live life like a dying man’ Chris had once told him, laying naked together in bed in Paris, the rush of their evening performance now a low ember in their veins.

“Actually…And this is the part I expected the real argument to happen…I’m bringing in someone new” Chris breathed out, tentative and braced. Robert’s brow hitched higher in alarm. Chris was a creature of comfort and familiarity. New was not something he delighted in. It was part of why they worked better as friends.

“Pending, of course, your approval. He is my primary choice, but I do have a second prospect. My first pick, however…He’s good. Good enough that he just got accepted as a full time student here. He comes with recommendations from Paris and Greece. Young, but…He reminds me of you”. The last part was said almost wistfully, and Robert was overcome with the urge to flick him between the eyes and say I’m not dead yet, you moron.

“My. Your face is shoved so far into this new one’s ass I almost forgot you prefer to bottom” Robert sighed, rising gracefully to his feet and aiming for the coffee maker. He could feel the heat of Chris’ blush from across the room. During their time together they had shared the positions, neither too strict on preference. With Sebastian, however, Chris was exclusively the bottom. Robert had asked about it once, seated on their couch with Jeremy snug between his thighs and half-snoring, the group drunk on dark red and bourbon.

Sebastian had simply smiled slyly and lounged back, thighs falling apart to reveal the sizeable bulge at his pelvis. Robert had mocked and coaxed and eventually Sebastian had stood, striding over and unbuckling his belt to push Robert’s cheek to the firm flesh there, howling with laughter at his sputtering. Chris had been the same colour as the wine by the time his boyfriend had returned to his seat, and Sebastian had forever been nicknamed Pony in honour of the beast between his legs.

“Spit out the name, then” Robert coaxed, before Chris could lecture him on biding his tongue. It was wasted breath anyway; Robert’s silver tongue and sense of humour was practically the baseline of his entire personality.

“Tom Holland” Chris replied, voice distant as he opened the file and begun to pour over it, already back to business. It was why Chris was on the Board and Robert was merely an honorary teacher. Robert nearly poured the coffee over his hand and not into his cup at the name, frowning as he turned.

“Isn’t he like…Fifteen?” He questioned, head tilting as he lifted the hot liquid to his lips with a soft sound of approval. He liked his coffee as black as his sins, with just enough sugar to chase away the bitter taste. Chris looked up, appearing perplexed.

“He’s eighteen. He’s ten years your minor” Chris pointed out, and Robert wrinkled his nose. He was no stranger to working with children; some as young as aged six. But such a young partner for a romantic piece? It settled oddly on his bones and he cocked his head further. His youngest partner for a romantic piece had been twenty-three, a snarky Russian girl who danced like it was a fight to the death.

“He’s young” Chris agreed, leaning back and crossing his arms thoughtfully. “But hes good, Tony. When I said he reminds me of you…This boy went to Greece at fourteen with the Troupe de Ballet. He’s toured America at sixteen. I’ve seen him dance in person. It’s…An art. Truly. I know he’s young, but his style…He’s made for it. And you two? Together? It would be iconic. An undeniably beautiful act”.

Chris had that look in his eye, as though he were seeing the answer to life. It quelled any argument that Robert might have had, little though it was. Chris was so passionate about his work, about ballet. And when he set his respects to a certain person; Robert was all but helpless to agree. And so he did, sipping his coffee and looking thoughtful for a moment.

“I will watch him dance. If I feel like we will work…We will work” he agreed, lifting his coffee up and to safety when Chris rushed him for a hug, tight and loving. The force of it lifted Robert to his toes and he wrapped an arm low at Chris’ waist for balance, thumb stroking the corded muscle that lay over his hip.

“The things I do for you” he sighed, as though put upon, but his smile was too broad too be contained.

Tom Holland arrived the following Monday, the hallways of the school alive with vibrant speculation and chatter about the new-comer. ‘He’s prettier than any girl’ he heard one boy say, striding down the hallway with a friend. ‘I’ve heard that he’s going to be world-famous soon, and that he’s almost as good as Sir Robert’ squealed a girl, lacing her pumps so tight that his own ankle twinged in sympathy.

Robert had elected not to research the boy, in order to have a fresh opinion. He vaguely recalled the odd snippets he had seen. From what he remembered the boy was rather small, but lithe. Dark hair. Brown, perhaps. Or a dirty blonde? He remembered elegance and passion in his movements, but no specific details.

He had commanded that the boy perform in room A:13, a very specific location, for it was conjoined to a secret viewing room. Robert had converted it himself, utilising an old storeroom and its neighbouring closet to create a double-mirrored set up that allowed for secret observation. Robert liked to watch how people moved when they were unaware they were being watched.

Chris had admitted the boy had no idea that he was doing a performance yet, or that he was working with Robert. Potentially, Robert had reminded him. He had slipped inside the hidden room whilst Chris had gone to fetch the kid, and was scrolling mindlessly through his phone when he heard the door snick open, the echoing footfalls in the studio.

He looked up.

The boy was slender, somewhere between tall and short. It was hard to tell, really, when his only comparison was how he looked besides Chris, who towered above almost every man. Lithe and with a practised grace. He stepped lightly, twirling this way and that as he looked around the room. Robert tried not to look, really, but it was impossible to miss the slender calves, the supple thighs. The ass that curved out, lavish and thick, like a girls’.

And his face. Even from afar, Robert could see the beauty. The smooth cheeks and the browbone. The line of his jaw and the milkiness of his skin, all topped with a thick, generous mop of neatly brushed curls. The boy was talking to Chris, too quiet to hear, but pleasant, by the look on Chris’ face. After a short conversation, Chris stepped away, back through the doors, and the boy was alone.

Chris entered besides Robert as the boy sunk to the floor, liquid in his fluidity. He begun to stretch his legs, and Robert was loathe to turn his gaze away. “I told him to practise alone, first. That I would come back for him in fifteen minutes”. Wise, Robert had to admit. Without prompting, many students left alone would merely pick a perch and play games on their phones. Tom, however….

Tom folded himself in a perfect half, cheek resting on the floor, toes in a pointe. He must’ve done some stretching beforehand, because the flexibility was flawless, easy. It was all Robert could do to turn back, to nod approvingly at Chris. “He seems dedicated” he remarked, leaning against the wall-hold as he watched.

“I’d dare say as much as you” Chris sent back, and Robert gave a wry smile. You got nowhere without dedication, in this profession. Nowhere without blood, sweat and tears. Robert himself had cracked bones and torn skin to show for his skill. He looked back to Tom, who was stood now, using a handrail to balance on one set of toes, the other leg stretched in a perfect vertical to his side. Robert almost lost his breath.

The boy stretched for ten of the fifteen minutes, moving around the studio as easy as breathing, as fluid as water. He was frighteningly flexible, and agile to boot. They watched in silence for the most part, bar the odd murmur of approval from Chris. And then the boy shifted, shedding the tiny, zip-up hoodie that he’d been wearing. It revealed a pale, pink bodysuit, the light grey, tiny shorts that stretched for dear life over..

Robert cleared his throat, and watched as the boy pulled a phone from the hoodie, scrolling quickly. It turned out not be a break, however, but a search for music. The piece was some classical rendition of a pop song, though Robert couldn’t place it. The boy re-set it, and the music paused for a time, long enough for Tom to take position in the middle of the room.

Bowed, of sorts. One leg stretched out behind, arms extended to the side, body arched elegantly, head ducked. He paused there, breathing, taut. And then the music begun and Tom let himself unfold like a spring flower. It amazed Robert, how easily the boy captured attention and compliment. The world was stuffed full of dancers. The list of ballet names endless and overflowing. To stand out was near impossible. These days it relied on where you performed and whom you knew. What strings you could pull.

And yet.

Tom moved as they his body belonged to the music, floating through the room like sound. Robert found himself enthralled, lost as Tom danced. Closer, in snaking patterns. The closer he got, the prettier he became, Robert realised with a sinking lament. Far away beauty became undeniable, clearer. Wide eyes and thick lashes that framed them like kohl. A slender body, lithe with sleek muscle.

Closer, he danced. Spinning in pirouettes and transitioning to graceful tour en l'airs, spine straight and landing with impeccable balance. The boy’s slow, seductive extension into an arabesque left Robert gripping for purchase, hand closing around a riding crop nearby. They were common use in ballet, like spirit meters to a builder.

Chris cast him a sidelong glance, but remained silent.

Closer, closer. The boy sped up as he danced, in time to the crescendo of the music, whipping from position to position, movement to movement. Robert realised belatedly that the boy was heading straight for them, a series of spins and extensions bringing him to them.

The boy twisted gracefully, hitting the railing with perfectly timed momentum grasping the bar with both hands. It brought him face to face with the double sided mirror and the boy paused there, panting for breath with wide, curious eyes. As the boy heaved for air he slowly, slowly tipped his head, staring unknowingly into Robert’s eyes.

Then a trembling hand reached up, slow and cautious, fingertips dancing briefly against the glass, as though touching Robert’s face from the other side. And then he was gone, back to the middle of the room.

Robert tipped his head, watching the boy fall to rest, and thwacked the crop against his calf, nodding once. “I will take him” he announced, turning away from the mirrored wall. Chris hastened to slide past him, striding ahead of him through the corridor to the studio entrance, where he pushed through. The boy was standing, stretching out a leg slowly in a perfect, 180 penché.

“I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting, Tom. I just had to-” Chris’ voice was cut off by Tom’s startled gasp. Robert could see his eyes were brown, now. Light and like honey. He was devastatingly pretty up close and in person, eyes blown wide and his mouth open, dark pink lips in a pretty, perfect circle.

The boy pitched forwards, balance shot and arms flailing. Robert, already halfway through the door, beat Chris to lunging forwards. He fell to his knees, sliding across the polished floor and wrapping his arms around Tom’s torso as the boy came down. He was vaguely aware that this was some sort of Dirty Dancing shit, but arms closing around a slender, trim waist, he couldn’t care.

The boys palms hit the floor and he went lax in Robert’s grip, head tipping back to look up at him in astonishment. ‘Pretty’ Robert could only think, gazing back at him. He let the boy go slowly, allowing him to slide off his thigh and onto the cool floor. Above them Chris stood gaping, clearly unsure of where to continue.

“You’re - Oh my god. Why are you - You’re Robert Downey Jr” the boy mewled, looking equally delighted and distressed. Robert arched a brow, slow and sarcastic as he shifted, elegantly switching his legs to the side. He became vaguely aware of Chris joining them in sitting on the floor, and spared a moment to be amused by the scenario.

“If we’re going to be working together, you should pay heed to your balance. I’m too old for dramatic Swayze style slides, these days” he quipped, and took pleasure in the way the boy fumbled again, seemingly at a loss for words. He was used to the odd starstruck fan, the whispers and the excitement of the younger dancers. The awe. But this? Losing in ability to simply move in his presence?

“Working…?” The boy wheezed, moving from hands and knees to sit cross-legged before him, fingers wringing nervously in his lap. It was then that Chris got his swing back, casting Robert an accusing glance, as though rendering the boy useless was his motive.

“I…May have no been entirely honest, when I invited you here” Chris admitted, and Robert delighted in a scandalised gasp, feigning horror. Tom gave a brilliant, dazzling grin, glancing at him in delight before looking back at Chris, curiously. “You are here to perform, I didn’t lie about that. But you will be performing a duet. With Robert”.

Tom looked like he might pass out.

“With…But he’s…And I’m just…”

“Extremely talented” Robert cut in, leaning back on his palms. “And I would be honoured to work alongside you”.

Tom’s breath hitched loudly, and for a brief moment Robert was concerned that he had actually swallowed his tongue. But then he wheezed out a breath and Robert relaxed a fraction, lifting a brow. He was used to the minor freak outs of his colleagues. The panic of working alongside an idol, but.

“Keep going, kiddo. You’re doing wonders for my ego” he purred, and watched how the milky, pale skin went a violent shade of pink. Frankly, the kid was a sin personified. Chris had to know this was a bad idea. Robert had no filter and no shame. He had to know this kid ticked all of his boxes.

Or…Perhaps he did, and this was some kind of cruel and unusual punishment for all the stress. Or perhaps this was the promised revenge for that time Robert was convinced that peppermint would make blowjobs more interesting.

“I don’t understand” the boy whispered after a moment, chewing at his lower lip as he looked between them. Robert wanted to draw him in, to smooth the furrow set between his brows. Chris merely offered one of those soft, open smiles.

“I’d like you and Robert to be the two premier ballerinos of my performance at The Royal House of Dance. If you accept, you will star alongside Robert in The Love Born of Summer. You as Peter and Robert as Tony” he explained softly. Tom blew out a deep exhale, eyes still wide. He looked at Robert for a long moment, gaze thoughtful.

“I…I mean, of course. Yes. I accept” the boy rushed out after a moment, leaning forwards in his excitement. Chris beamed, clapping his hands in delight and reaching out to slap Robert on the shoulder. He had his star duet. His beautiful act.

“Amazing! Right! Well, I have some paperwork that I need to sort out, and I need to confirm your names for the venue and the marketing department, so. I’ll let you two sit for a bit. Have a chat, ask questions, that sort of thing. I’d say we’ll be ready to begin practise say…Friday?” He asked, looking between them as he pushed himself to his feet. For all his height, he unfurled with the same poise as any other dancer.

It was Monday today, which gave them three days to settle. Three days for Tom to get antiquated with the school and with Robert. And for the vice versa, though Robert knew his night would likely be taken up with a generous helping of bourbon and his fist.

Tom bid the man a soft goodbye, still all shy smiles and scrunched up in delight. Robert wanted to squeeze him, but he settled for pushing to his feet, suggesting that they talk whilst they stretch out. He expected the boy to protest, to say he was already warned up. He didn’t.

“Yes, Mr. Downey” the boy murmured obligingly, and shifted to his feet, copying Robert in beginning with a simple set of leg extensions. Loathe as he was to admit it, the words sent a tingle down his spine, and he folded over slowly, touching his palms to the floor in the hopes of hiding his reaction.

“Why do you speak funny?” He asked after a moment, and he could see from the corner of his eye the way the boy startled, looking across at him owlishly.

“…Funny?” The boy repeated in confusion, folding over to match the pose.

“Yeah, like, this kind of funny” Robert replied, mimicking the lilt of his voice, the dip in pronunciation, his nose scrunching. Tom giggled across from him, cheeks blaring pink once more.

“That’s…My voice. I’m not American” Tom responded, his voice pitching into a perfect, northern accent, not unlike Robert’s. The older man snorted in amusement as he straightened, and begun to stretch his arms. He resolutely did not face Tom, but the mirror-lined walls made it hard not to see him at all.

“So you can speak a full sentence” he remarked, and delighted in the way the boy curled in on himself shyly, gaze dropping to the floor. God. Adorable.

They talked as they stretched, snippets of conversation and getting to know each other. Tom, as it turned out, was a huge fan of Robert, had been since he was a boy, and he even apologised when Robert quipped about feeling old. He was insufferably sweet.

Chris came back somewhere after an hour, clutching a thin stack of papers in one hand, and a tray of coffee in the other. There was the usual paperwork for now enrolments, and the usual for performances. Safety papers, payment agreements and the like. Robert signed them all with practised ease and an artful flick of his wrist.

Tom read over each sheet carefully, the tip of a tiny, pink tongue caught between his teeth. Chris patiently explained each one, and the process took another hour. By which time Robert was suitably dying of boredom, entertaining himself by prodding Chris now and then.

“Okay. I think I’ve fried your brain enough for today, Tom. You can go ahead and call it quits. I can get this paperwork filed tonight, and you can show up at any time over the next three days. Have a walk around, chat to people, that sort of thing. We’ll begin the real work on Friday, when I’ll introduce you to the performance and my ideas”.

Chris left them from there, parting ways with a firm handshake for Tom and a familiar, tight hug for Robert, leaving the two alone as Tom dipped to one knee, scooping up his hoodie and his phone. Robert lingered for a moment, shuffling where he stood. Tom looked surprised to see him, when he stood, shrugging carefully into his hoodie.

“I’ll be here tomorrow around noon, for practise. If you want a familiar face” Robert offered, extending his hand. Tom looked surprised once more, eyeing his hand carefully before reaching out. In contrast to his, Tom’s hand was tiny. Long, slender fingers, unmarred by callouses. Tom was rather petite in general, Robert noted. Erring more on just under ‘tall’. But he was no more fragile, muscles coiling under his smooth skin.

He had a firm grip, too, and he avoided Robert’s gaze as they shook hands. Robert found it rather endearing, and he left the boy there, spinning on his heel to march steadily out to the parking lot. He needed a drink. And some lube.

Tom found him on the Tuesday. Or rather, Tom did a neat face-plant into his chest, on the Tuesday. Robert had been striding the hallway, heading for his usual studio space when a barrage of red and blue had come from the corner. Robert ha just enough time to lift his phone out of the way, allowing his sternum to take the brunt.

“Oh my Go- Aw, no. Mr. Downey! I’m so sorry!”.

Ah.

“A curious method of greeting people. A British custom, is it?” Robert teased, tucking his phone away as Tom took a step backwards, rubbing at his jaw. The boy huffed a laugh, delicate and high, and Robert took a moment to observe him. He wore royal blue shorts, lined with a bright red. A matching, cropped gym shirt stretched over his chest, though no skin was bared, thanks to the high waist of the shorts.

Tom accompanied him to the studio, tucking up in a corner with his phone and observing as Robert begun to stretch. They talked idly, easily. Tom asked questions about Robert’s career and his ballet past, and in return answered whatever Robert could throw at him, from his preference in herbal teas to his favourite move.

Robert caught the boy staring several times, with a poorly concealed hunger. It was not the same feral expression of lust as most, but a quiet thing. Deep and glittering in those whiskey eyes. Robert was shameless to admit that he stretched for longer than he normally would, folding and bending in exaggerated ways. The boy tracked each movement. It was flattering. Exciting.

“And you’ve no qualms about a romantic performance with a man?” He asked as he dove forwards into a slow handstand. He went into a pointe position and bent one leg steeply, holding his weight. Tom was no less attractive from odd angles, he found.

“I…Should hope not? I mean, it would be rather hypocritical of me, as a gay man, to object to a homosexual romantic performance” Tom pointed out. It was only Robert’s elbows that saved his face from an unfortunate meeting with the floor, and it was his turn to eye the boy in astonishment.

“A valid point” he replied easily, and moved along to question the boy’s preference in music. He couldn’t deny the way his mind whispered, though. Dark and dirty things that he tried hard to ignore, putting extra effort into pushing his body. Contrary to the things his mind brought forwards, he was not a predator. Nor a creep. The boy being gay meant nothing.

Tease though he would, Robert was a man of respect and dignity. He stopped at any sign of discomfort, and his hands never strayed from safe bounds. Close friends excluded, of course. With those and their tolerance of his personality, drink nights oft suffered wandering hands and crude remarks. From all sides.

Tom didn’t ask if it bothered him. He had no need. Robert had been proudly out as a pansexual man since his early days of performing, and had never bothered to hide or diminish his sexuality. He had a preference for men, though his lavish appetite was not limited. He had several remarkable relationships with women in his past, and his love extended to all.

Tom wandered away before Robert begun to dance, reluctantly admitting that he ought to find Chris. He lingered in the doorway, though, half-twisted to watching longingly as Robert settled into his beginning position. Robert met his gaze in the mirror and winked wolfishly, his chuckles drowned by his music as Tom went a fierce shade of red and practically leapt from the room.

Sebastian came strolling in, some three hours later. He carried a takeout bag of food, and a large bottle of water. “There was an honest to God twink in Chris’ office” he announced as he entered, and Robert’s laughter made his landing wonky.

The bag contained a generous helping of beef salad, with a low-fat muffin as dessert, and Robert ate as he listened to Sebastian rave about the tiny, pretty little thing he’d found curled up in Steve’s office chair.

“No boy has any business being that adorable” Sebastian pointed out, and Robert agreed around a hearty mouthful of baked good. They lamented it at some length, comparing poetic on Tom’s eyes and voice and ass before Robert decided practise had been done enough today, and so had gossip.

“Can you even dance with a boner? Is that possible?” Sebastian asked loudly, as they headed for the door, swinging it open to reveal a rather embarrassed and stunned looking Tom on the other side, one hand extended for the door. Robert made no effort to hold back his howl of laughter as Sebastian’s shoulders slumped.

[jinterlude]

Fight for Me (Ch.5)

↳Story Header © @softjeon (do not steal this header!)

➵ Pairing: Kim Seokjin x Female OC (feat. Kwon Ji Yong)

➵ Genre(s): Historic!AU, Medieval!AU , Royalty!AU, Knight!AU, Romance, SMUT, Humor, & Angst

➵ SMUT Warning(s):  Foreplay & Penetration

➵ Words: 5.5K

➵ Summary: Once upon a time, there was a not-so-traditional kingdom. In that kingdom, the royal family had the freedom of marrying whoever his or her royal highness deems worthy. Now, of course, having that special privilege came with some interesting challenges, but that doesn’t stop a certain head-strong princess from doing whatever her heart’s desire, especially when she has her heart set on marrying her personal bodyguard. Unfortunately, her beliefs might face some hardships when a certain king sets his eye on her. Will her bodyguard continue to fight for her or is it finally her turn?

※ Previously: ch.1 | ch.2 | ch.3 | ch.4

※ Next Time: ch.6 | final chapter

Chapter 5: A Knight vs. A King

Previously

Seokjin rubbed his nose against her cheek sweetly and said no.

           “Then do not tease me, my dear knight!” Sumin poked his cheek as the two neared the entrance of the dining room.

Seokjin simply laughed in response, “I would never, my sweet princess.” He then untwined their fingers. “Now, enjoy supper. If you are good princess and tell your father about our decision, then I might visit your chambers this evening.” He whispered the last part in her ear.

Sumin felt a rush of pleasure as soon as he whispered that.

           “Maybe if you are good knight and behave while King Ji Yong is doing his best to antagonize you, then I might let you.” She teased back, smiling alluring at the knight as she walked away.

Seokjin could have sworn he felt his crotch area tightened. The thought of them being alone and intimate in her chambers sent his hormones into a wild frenzy.

Unfortunately, for them, someone else was listening in on their conversation.

           “A midnight rendezvous? We shall see about that, my dear princess.”

With eyes glued onto the silver plates, an awkward tension filled the dining hall. Nothing but the sounds of the royal string quartet, playing a light yet soothing melody, and the fire emitted a couple of crackles as Sumin pushed around her roasted vegetables with her fork.

Not only she felt the predatory gaze from King Ji Yong, but also a pressured stare from her knight. Honestly, it would have been better if she had not fallen in love. Her father never made a rule against a member of the royal ruling the kingdom by him or herself.

Why not Sumin? Her father had told her stories of her great great-aunt ruling the kingdom by herself, and it turned out for the better―granted…that the kingdom experienced a few months of despair and utter sadness, but that was the beside the point.

Out of the corner of his eye, Sumin’s father noticed a solemn expression painted on her face. He briefly made eye-contact with his wife, and she too noticed the odd expression on their daughter’s face. The royal couple gazed upon each other as if they read each other’s mind on what they should do or even say. Then, after a couple more moments of silence, the king spoke.

           “Daughter, is there something wrong with your dinner?” He paused, beckoning for one of the servants to come to him. “Would you like the cook to fix you up something even yummier?” He asked as he took a tiny sip of the sweet wine.

Sumin lifted her head, shaking it as she quickly denied that something was wrong with her food.

           “I guess I am simply not hungry, father.” She added, smiling warmly at him.

Sumin’s father raised a brow, finding it odd that his daughter did not have an appetite.

           “My daughter not hungry? I find that quite amusing. Tell me, what is on your mind that caused a sudden loss of hunger?” He asked, hating the fact that his daughter distracted and seemed a bit distant.

A short sigh exited her lips as Sumin glanced at Seokjin, establishing eye-contact briefly, before directing her attention back to her father.

           “Father, I am sure that you have grown tired of my indecisiveness, but I swear to you on the Holy Father that this will be my sudden change of heart.” She began; her chest heaved slightly as the nerves settled in the pit of her stomach.

Both her father and morning leaned in their seats, unsure where the direction of the conversation headed.

Sumin’s mother gestured for her to continue and so she did.

           “I know Seokjin and I have changed our decision countless of times, but this time we are completely serious. We are ready to become betrothed to one another and proceed with the next steps.” She announced, feeling a tiny weight lifted off her shoulders.

Sumin’s father eyed his daughter as he tapped his chin. Was his daughter playing tricks on him yet again? Had she and her knight finally made up their minds and hearts? Was he going to live to see his only daughter—his pride and joy―wed? Thank, the Lord.

With his index and middle fingers, the king gestured for Seokjin to come hither.

Seokjin bowed his head and walked up to the dining table, secretly feeling triumphant as he secured Sumin’s heart and their future together.

Ji Yong on the other hand did not see that as a loss. If anything, he merely saw it as humongous obstacle and now? It was time for drastic measures.

His ears tuned into the happy discussion, but his mind and heart drifted somewhere else. His evil mind began plotting a plan that would result with Sumin has his wife. His heart focused on how beautiful Sumin looked; her appearance enhanced even more as the fire dimmed in the room. It was because of that Ji Yong started to imagine what she would look like in complete darkness. With the moon illuminating their chambers, he could picture her magnificent breasts as her face contorted in pleasure. The pleasure that he so happily gave her.

God…just that mere thought got him excited. It also did not help that his lips still tingled from their passionate kiss in the library. He had tiny taste of her, and he desired more. He wanted to feel her precious lips all over his body. He even wanted to see them wrapped around his hardened length as she bobbed her head slowly; the pleasure that only crescendos.  

The more he indulged in his naughty thoughts, the more he failed to realize that Sumin and Seokjin had excused themselves.

Finally—he pulled himself out of them.

           “Excuse me. I need to fetch myself some fresh air.” Ji Yong announced, pushing his chair back. He bowed his head before walking out of the hall. Sumin’s parents watched Ji Yong until he disappeared from their sight. A long sigh escaped both their lips as they could not help but worry for their daughter’s happiness.

Even with them discussing future wedding plans, Ji Yong did not seem bothered by it. If anything, he simply ignored it.

Something about the arrogant king did not settle with them whatsoever. Sumin’s father had recalled what the other kings had gossiped about King Ji Yong countless of times, and they always said that he would stop at nothing to obtain what his heart desires. He would even declare war if deemed necessary.

Sumin’s father was not sure if his body could handle an all-out war with another kingdom at his age. He was not frail, but he was not young either. Time, like everything else, always had interesting plans for the living—so he silently prayed that time would show him mercy.

As the waves crashed against the cliff , and the slight breeze that danced across the courtyard, Sumin and Seokjin walked leisurely towards their favorite spot—the garden. Oh, the garden held many wonderful memories for them. It was the place where they shared their first mud war. Sumin won most of them. It was the place where they confessed their romantic feelings for one another. They also indulged in their first kiss—and their second kiss. Now, the garden would soon hold another fond memory—the day the two of them would wed.

With the full Summer moon as their spotlight, and the sounds of laughter that emitted from them, the two lovers began reminiscing of the day their first met.

           “Are you sure, my beloved? I for one remember that day quite differently.” Sumin said as her thoughts drifted back to the day when she was only a little girl. Her father had presented her a horse for her sixth birthday—along with a certain newly appointed stable boy.

Dawning a hunter green dress, Sumin bunched the skirt up enough to stop tripping over it when she tried to keep up with her father. She was short, and her father was a giant in comparison. She had to run after him if she wanted to stay by his side.

           “Father! Where are we going? I thought mother said I was not allowed to see my presents until after tonight’s ball?” Sumin asked as she continued to rush after her father.

A short chuckle escaped his mouth as Sumin’s father made a sudden halt near the garden entryway. He did an about face and crouched down, pushing his cape out of the way. He held out his arms and waited for the arrival of his daughter.

Seeing his arms wide open, a bright smile graced her face as Sumin ran full force into his chest, loving the warmth and love he radiated.

Sumin’s father stood up with his daughter secured against his side and entered the garden.

           “I know that your mother wanted you to wait until after your birthday ball, but I could not.” Sumin’s father replied as the two ventured deeper inside the garden.

Sumin tilted her head slightly and just as she opened her mouth to ask another question, the sounds of horses neighing captured her attention.

Her eyes lit up instantly as her eyes caught sight of two beautiful horses. One was brown and the other white.

           “Father, are those horses for me?” She asked, wanting to make sure she had been tasked to giving them away to another royal family as a gift.

Her father chuckled once again as he graciously placed her down.

           “Yes, my child. Those horses belong to you and…” He paused, whistling for his most trusted stable worker to come forth. “This newly appointed stable boy will now work underneath you. He will be taking care of your horses just like his father takes care of mine.” He finished as the stable worker and his son come into full view.

Sumin turned around; her eyes trailed the boy up and down. A faint blush appeared upon her cheeks as she found the stable boy quite handsome. His lips were plump. His eyes dripped with eagerness and charisma. In short, her ideal man.

           “Princess Sumin, may I introduce my son, Kim Seokjin, to you.” The stable worker then pushed his son towards her; the child’s nose almost bumped into hers.

Sumin held out her hand for the boy to kiss, but instead she got…

           “Father, I thought you said that I would find the princess quite beautiful? She looks like a boy.” Seokjin blurted out, unknowingly insulting the princess in the process.

Seokjin’s father’s jaw dropped just a bit. He could not believe that his son chose now to be a smart mouth.

Sumin’s father, on the other hand, found the boy quite hilarious. He definitely made a perfect fit for his daughter. Someone needed to keep her head placed firmly on her shoulders. Oh…he could not wait until they expressed romantic interests in one another.

           “My deepest apologies, your highness. My son apparently lost his mind.” Seokjin’s father quickly said, bowing his head apologetically.

Sumin clenched her jaw as her eyes became slits. She took back what she said about Seokjin. He was rude and no way on this Earth would she ever fall in love with him.

           “Sumin, what do you say when someone apologizes?” She heard her father ask, pulling her out her never-ending rants.

Sumin peered up at her father, “I say that he or she is forgiven, and no offense was taken…” She muttered.

Sumin’s father nodded, “Good. Now, tell Seokjin that.”

Sumin let out a long whine as she kicked the stone pathway. She then looked up to her father, who—in return—gave her a stern expression and gestured her towards Seokjin.

She directed her attention towards the stable boy, and just as she opened her mouth to accept the apology—a devious idea planted in her mind.

She mustered the sweetest smile ever and held out hand, waiting for him to shake it.

Seokjin eyed her hand oddly, sensing this questionable aura around the princess, but ignored it since his father would whoop him if he offended the princess yet again.

He slowly extended out his hand, closing the gap an inch at a time, and just as their fingertips touched, Seokjin felt a sharp pain shoot up his arm.

A loud shout came out of his mouth as Sumin forcibly bent his fingers back. She then hooked her leg around his and managed to trip him. She climbed on top of him, and the two children began to wrestle in the grass.

The two fathers watched their offspring with such amusement as they found it funny that the two children just met and already playing as if they had been friends since birth.

           “You still look like a boy!” Seokjin taunted as he struggled to fend off the high-tempered princess.

           “So? I rather look like a boy and hit like one instead of looking like and hitting like a girl!” Sumin retorted as she managed to pin the poor boy down—in mud.

Seokjin growled and used up all his strength to turn the tides. Sadly, that had been proven futile. Sumin inherited her incredible stubbornness from her mother. Allowing the enemy to have the upper hand was not in Sumin’s book.

Before the two of them could be completely covered in muck, the fathers finally intervened, easily pulling them off of each other.

           “Well, I had to have to say that this has been quite an eventful first meeting, don’t you agree, Master Kim?” Sumin’s father asked, holding his daughter tightly against his legs.

Master Kim laughed, “I agree, your majesty. I think my son has finally found his match.”

Sumin’s father laughed as well, nodding in his head, while Sumin and Seokjin merely stuck their tongues at each other.

           “Maybe we can invite Seokjin to your birthday gala as a special guest? What do you say, my precious jewel?” Her father asked Sumin, causing the young girl to stop with the taunts.

Sumin gawked, “I rather invite a humpback whale.”

           “Why? You are already there, princess…” Seokjin said, smirking smugly.

           “Why I ought to!” She shouted as she escaped her father’s clutches and tackled Seokjin back to the ground.

           “I wonder how their friendship will play out if they are already this close to one another?”

           “Forget the friendship, their romantic bond shall be one interesting event to witness.”

His body ached at that not-so-fond memory. Seokjin had yet to wrap his head around the fact that Sumin managed to pin him down like it was nothing.

Sumin, on the other, smiled proudly to herself. Not only did she prove her handsome knight wrong, but she had the opportunity to remember the day she won her first match with the boy.

Seokjin rested his hand on top of hers as he placed a sweet kiss on her cheek.

           “I still cannot believe that this garden always had mud laying around.” He said; his eyes scanned the garden, taking note of the many tiny mud piles.

Sumin giggled softly, “Maybe the palace gardeners knew that you and I liked to play in the mud when we were only mere children.”

Seokjin shook his head softly before resting his chin on his princess’s shoulder.

           “We shared many firsts here, and would you like to know what is my favorite?” He asked, placing a soft kiss on her weak spot—the base of her neck.

A soft sigh left her lips as Sumin turned to face her beloved.

           “What?” She asked softly, practically a whisper.            

           “This.” He whispered as he cupped her cheek sweetly and captured her lips.

Sumin closed her eyes and placed her free hand on the back of his neck. She pulled him closer as the kiss slowly intensified. It was if their minds synchronized with each other.

Seokjin’s tongue lightly brushed against her bottom, causing the young princess to emit a tiny moan.

Just that tiny moan alone excited him. He placed his hands on her lower back and pulled her closer, as if that was even possible. His fingers played with the strings of her dress, wanting nothing more to undo them. However, he stopped himself. The back of his mind telling him that there was someone watching. A certain someone that kissed his princess earlier. That someone being the king that failed in obtaining Sumin’s hand in marriage. King Ji Yong.

Not wanting to give the scheming king another second of their romantic moment, Seokjin pulled away.

           “I think it is time for the princess to retire to her chambers for the night.” He then leaned close to her ear, his lips practically pressed against it. “I also think, it is time for a certain knight to pay said princess a visit.” He whispered alluringly; his hot breath sent shivers up her spine.

Not being able to form words let alone a full sentence, Sumin simply nodded with a dreamy like smile written on her face.

Seokjin could not help but find Sumin absolutely adorable. He did not think he would cause her to become this mindless, lovesick person but then again, she had that effect on him. She just did not know it yet.

Taking her hand gently into his as he stood up, Seokjin bowed his head and asked permission if he could escort her back to her chambers. Of course, Sumin gave him permission but smacked him lightly on the shoulder for being rather embarrassing.

Seokjin placed his free hand over his heart and feigned being insulted.

           “Well, I guess the princess can find her way back to her chambers by herself.” He said firmly, untangling their fingers from one another.

Sumin cocked up her brow and gave him a look before shrugging and walking away.

Seokjin’s mouth became agape as he watched the love of his life retreat. He quickly snapped back into his senses and chased after the woman.

He easily caught up with her and grabbed her waist, causing the girl to laugh.

           “Who gave you permission to leave me?” He asked; his tone tinted with slight darkness.

Sumin only smirked in response before removing his hands from her body. Then, she walked away from him, halting underneath the archway of the garden entrance. She peered over her shoulder and with an alluring smile painted on her face, she said,

           “Why not follow me to my chambers, and I shall tell you the answer?”

Seokjin felt his hormones awaken. His lover knew how to rile him up to the point of him wanting to pin her against the wall and devour her lips as his hands traced every curvature on her body―her naked body.

Not even a second later, he pursued after her, loving their little game they played whenever they felt the need to spice up their romance. God, Seokjin could only imagine what actual sex with Sumin would be like. Maybe tonight was the night. The night two hearts become one.

As Seokjin disappeared off into the night, trailing after the owner of his heart, a certain king finally emerges from his hiding spot. His blood boiled after having to endure such a disgusting sight.

Ji Yong clenched his fists as his mind became plagued with the scene of Seokjin and Sumin kissing one another. His lowly hands embracing the temple that was her body. His sweet whispers that invaded her ears. Everything about this night sickened him. Ji Yong felt incredibly jealous and possessive over Sumin, and to witness her loving someone pathetic knight pissed him off.

A loud growl emitted from his mouth as Ji Yong suddenly unsheathed his sword and swung violently. His sword managed to cut a few branches from a nearby bush.

Ji Yong eyed the fallen branch; his furious mind pretended that it was Seokjin’s head. Then―as if something possessed him—Ji Yong calmly sheathed his sword, inhaled then exhaled nice and slow, and stared off into the distance as the nightly sea-breeze fanned his face.

           “I am going to miss this kingdom…” He thought evilly to himself as his brain concocted the most devious plan that would ensure Sumin’s hand in marriage. Too bad that Seokjin would not be in attendance. Don’t you love war?

Currently brushing out the knots in her hair, Sumin hummed a little tune to herself as the night breeze entered her room. The soft blow brushed past her curtains and flowed right by her, causing the hairs on her arm to stand up.

The sounds of a fire crackling filled her body with nothing but relaxation. She did not understand why something so little as the sound of fire crackling put her mind at ease, but it did. That was until a light knock on her door interrupted it. Just that tiny knock caused butterflies to flutter in the pit of her belly.

She muttered a quick enter before undoing the first bow of her nightgown. She pulled it apart just a smidge, enough to show a bit of cleavage as her eyes stared at the door in anticipation.

Slowly, a familiar face appeared in her sight. Then, his entire body came into full view.

Her eyes widened and her mouth agape once she saw his appearance. Instead of his usual knightly attire, which consisted mainly of metal covering his entire torso, he now wore a light cotton shirt, black pants, a belt that was lazily tied around his waist, and riding boots. His hair was even messy.

Something about his unprofessional appearance aroused Sumin to the point that she captured his lips and untucked his shirt.

Seokjin sighed into the kiss as his arms wrapped around her waist. He then carried her bridal-style and walked over to the bed.

He broke the kiss, for only a second; his eyes bore into hers.

The emotion in his eyes were purely lust and love. Nothing else mattered to him except one thing—giving her his virginity and taking hers in return.

Without saying a word, he undid the belt and dropped it onto the floor, creating a loud clink. He pulled his shirt over his head, revealing his well-toned chest, and tossed it aside.

Sumin continued to eye him innocently, though, her core told a different story. Her clit ached—begged to be touched by him. She closed her thighs together, hoping the tightness would distract her aching core, but it only made it worse.

His brow raised just a smidge as Seokjin heard a few tiny moans come from his princess. Her innocent eyes remained on his as he quickly kicked off his boots, not wanting to keep his woman waiting any longer. He undid the buttons of his pants, though, not taking them off.

A tiny whine left her lips as Sumin hoped to see what lied underneath. She hadn’t seen his friend since the night of her party. It had been too long.

           “Are you teasing me, my knight?” She asked with an alluring smile.

Seokjin merely smirked as he walked over to her fireplace and threw water on it; the sound of sizzles entered the room.

Nothing but the moonlight illuminated her chambers as Sumin’s breathing grew heavy from anticipation. Then, she felt a shift in her bed.

Before she could say a word, her cheeks were cupped followed by an innocent kiss on her lips.

Seokjin pulled away; his lips still hovered over hers.

           “I know waiting for our wedding night is the proper action to take, but I simply cannot. I need you, Sumin.” He lightly rubbed her lips with his, “Please, tell me that you feel the same way.” He whispered softly as his heart pounded against his chest.

Sumin stared at him for a moment. Then, instead of speaking, she passionately kissed him. She poured every ounce of love and want she had for the man. She too wanted him in every possible way.

She quickly undid the rest of the strings and slid the nightgown of her shoulders. She pushed the sleeves down until her arms were free.

With her breasts in full view, something in Seokjin snapped. He devoured her lips again as he gently pushed her onto the mattress.

A soft moan escaped her lips as Seokjin’s hands trailed up and down her thighs, igniting a tiny trail of fire with each passing.

Sumin didn’t know what possessed her, but she lifted up her leg and hooked it around his waist.

Her core pressed into his crotch, creating this friction that only left an intense desire.

           “I need you, Seokjin…” She begged softly as he directed his lips away from her lips and onto her neck.

Seokjin smirked against her skin, pausing in his little assault. He lifted his head; his lust filled gaze met hers.

           “Did I just hear the princess beg for me?” He teased as his fingers teased her entrance.

Sumin whined, feeling his thumb graze over her clit, “Y-yes…”

Seokjin pushed one finger into her, loving how wet she had become just by his kisses alone. He added another one before slowly pumping his index and middle fingers in and out.

Sumin gasped in pleasure as she tilted her head and arched her back, giving Seokjin a full view of her hardened nipples.

           “Damn…” He mentally cursed as he licked his lips.

Tiny moans left one by one as Sumin felt something in the pit of her stomach. A feeling she hadn’t experienced since their one night alone in the abandoned room.

Feeling her walls constrict against his fingers, Seokjin quickened his pace as his lips attached to hers, swallowing her moans as they grown louder.

His fingers pumped in and out of her. His thumb vigorously rubbed her clit.

God, feeling her like this made him want to pleasure himself—and so he did. Seokjin reached inside his pants and wrapped his free hand around his aching member. He matched the pace of his fingers as the urge to release soon came over him.

He pumped her and himself one last time before small strips of white landed on the inside of his pants. Her juices coated his fingers as both Seokjin and Sumin breathed heavily.

Sumin sat up and showered his bare shoulder with tiny pecks as she watched him suck the juices off his finger.

           “I shall never forget the taste of my princess for as long as I live.” Seokjin announced, smirking.

Sumin shook her head before kissing his plump lips slowly yet teasingly.

           “I wish I could have tasted you, Seokjin…” She pouted cutely as her hands played with his pants, wanting nothing more to take them off. She messed with the waistband as her fingers slowly disappeared inside, but not reaching his cock quite yet.

A soft chuckle left his lips as he couldn’t help but shake his head. His princess always loved hinting rather than telling.

Finally taking the hint, Seokjin pushed down his pants and kicked them off the bed. He then removed the nightgown completely from her body. He bunched the light clothing material and tossed it over his shoulder.

Sumin couldn’t help but giggle at his childish act; however, it was short lived. Her body was pinned underneath him; her wrists were positioned above her head.

Her breasts pressed against his chest as his knee settled in between her thighs.

A blanket silence covered the room as the two lovers remained still, staring into each other’s souls. This moment of intimacy had officially become intense. Lying in silence as with their naked bodies in complete view was honestly special to them.

Sure, they shared acts of intimacy as they had touched each other’s bodies as lovers, but right now? It was different. Neither one of them could explain it, but their hearts knew what this was. Their minds knew what this was. No words were needed.

Slowly, Seokjin lowered himself down as he used his free hand to pump his member.

In a matter of seconds, he was erect again. He then checked to see if Sumin was ready to receive him, and she was.

           “My deepest apologies, my princess, but this might hurt you for a bit or at least feel uncomfortable. I will not act any further without your consent, okay?” He said softly and sweetly as he teased her entrance with his tip.

Sumin smiled warmly at him and nodded her head. Again, no words were needed. Not anymore.

Seokjin released his hold on her wrists as he cupped her chin, tilting her head up slightly. He kissed her lips sweetly; his tongue entered her mouth, as slowly pushed himself inside her.

Sumin’s face slowly contorted in discomfort. She felt her walls stretch the more he entered her. His size wasn’t helping either. It wasn’t like he was humongous, but he wasn’t tiny.

She breathed heavily through her nostrils as Seokjin pulled out and then entered once more. He repeated that action even though she didn’t give him permission to do so.

Eventually, the feeling of discomfort vanished. Then, only a ping of pleasure was left. That tiny ping had been enough for Sumin to give him permission to move faster, which he did.

His thrusts sped up as both the warmth and wetness riled his sex drive to the point that he just had to take her. His mind went into a frenzy as he thought of nothing else but to make Sumin moan and come undone again.

Her moans increased in volume as the sounds bounced off the stone walls of her room. In her state of mind, she didn’t care if someone heard, especially that stupid King Ji Yong. Little did she know… she would regret that feeling since he found himself wandering around near her room when he heard the sounds of passionate lovemaking.

Curiosity got the best of him as he peeped through the keyhole and saw that lowly knight having sex with his future-wife. Yup…seeing them like that solidified his plan. Now, it was time to execute it.

Ji Yong stepped away from the door just as he heard Seokjin manage to tell Sumin that he loved her.

           “I l-love you too…Seokjin…” Sumin managed to say through her endless moans and pants.

Seokjin smiled as he lifted her leg and rested it on his wide shoulder. He then leaned forward, loving the new angle that they were in as he continued his thrusting.

It was thanks to this angle that Sumin began to see stars. His cock managed to hit her g-spot here and there, sending waves of pleasure throughout her body. She craved more. She needed more.

           “Hit that s-spot again, my beloved.” She moaned out as she fisted the sheets.

Seokjin simply nodded and did as he was told. He tried his hardest to hit that special spot repeatedly; however, if he couldn’t, the he resorted in rubbing her clit. Now, that spot got her a moaning mess—and he loved every second of it.

Sounds of moaning and skin-on-skin contact continued to fill the room as it seemed like hours had gone by since they first began. Honestly, they didn’t care how long it had been since their hearts were telling them that this might be the last time they would be this intimate. At the same, they paid little to no attention to what their hearts were saying because lust had taken control. What mattered was that they were together now.

The pleasure became too much as one more thrust would make Sumin see white, and Seokjin felt the same.

           “R-ready to cum for me, princess?” He grunted as his thrusts slowly became sloppy.

Sumin only nodded as her intellect disappeared hours ago.

With one last thrust, Seokjin released inside of her while Sumin released all over him; their juices mixed with one another. His thrusts had become incredibly sloppy as he emptied himself before collapsing on top of Sumin.

Sumin panted heavily as she absentmindedly played with Seokjin’s sweaty hair.

Seokjin sighed in content before mustering the remaining strength he had left to pull out of her. The moment he did that, he instantly missed her warmth.

He then lazily rolled over to the right side of the bed and pulled her tainted sheets over them.

           “It occurred to me that we need to explain to your nurse about your sheets.” Seokjin mumbled as he draped his arm over Sumin’s bare waist.

Sumin gave him look, though he couldn’t see it.

           “What do you ‘we need to explain’? I am more than likely going to explain it to her myself while you magically disappear.” She stated as Seokjin leaned down to lightly bite her nose.

           “How about this…you explain to the nurse and I will ask your parents for an audience to discuss wedding plans.” He suggested; his fingers lightly caressed her skin.

Sumin closed her eyes as they had grown to heavy too keep open and simply hummed in response.

           “I love you, my one and only princess. The keeper of my heart. My everything.” He whispered sweetly before drifting off towards dreamland, where his mind could finally rest and think about nothing else, but a married life with Sumin.

Except… there was something wrong with that plan…

           Who said that it would be his married life with Sumin?

A/N: Okay for the life of me, I could not figured out how to label the last smut warning. I mean, I settled for “penetration” because that’s what Sumin & Seokjin did. Let’s be real here! LOL I’ll change it, if you guys feel that it is not correct. Maybe I’ll just change it to “sex scene” though... I think that’s what “SMUT” entails. Agh... this is frustrating me. Anyway, I hope you guys like it! We are nearing the end of this series, and that means that the release of the sequel is fast approaching! Hope you guys are ready. I think by the time this is release, I should have the second chapter done! As of 7/12/2018, I had finished the first chapter! Go me!

Don’t forget to leave a like/reblog/comment/send in an ask on your thoughts! I love hearing them! :)

- Kim

[simplyshelbs16xoxo]

7teen - a teen!lock Sherlolly songfic <3

based on Avril Lavigne’s 17, in which Sherlock and Molly were high school sweethearts (give it a listen)

He was working at the record shop. I would kiss him in the parking lot. Tasted like cigarettes and soda pop.

Sherlock had picked up a summer job at a record shop. It was never his first choice of work, as he preferred to solve mysteries. When there was a lack of interesting cases to help the local police force with, he needed something that would pay. His shift had just ended and he was leaning against his car, finishing up a cigarette. Dropping it to the ground and putting it out, he took a sip of his Coca-Cola.

“Guess who?” a sweet feminine voice spoke from behind him, her hands covering his eyes.

“Hmm, let me guess,” Sherlock teased. “Could it be none other than Molly Hooper?” He turned to face her.

“Right again,” she smiled, standing on her tip toes to kiss him firmly. He tasted like a mix of his previously smoked cigarette and the fizzy beverage he was drinking. She detested the habit but at the same time, the taste was just so him.

He would tell me I was beautiful, sneaking in the neighbor’s swimming pool. Yeah, he taught me how to break the rules.

“You are so beautiful,” Sherlock whispered in the warm summer night air. Molly had a tote bag with her to throw her clothes into once she took them off. First, they needed to climb over the fence. Sherlock had convinced her to sneak in their neighbor and friend, John Watson’s, swimming pool. If John’s parents found out, they’d probably be appalled but since they were out of town for the weekend, there weren’t as many worries.

Molly tossed her bag over the fence. Sherlock was taller than it but at Molly’s mere five foot three, she needed a bit of help. He picked her up by the waist after she slipped off her sandals and threw them over. Sherlock maneuvered to where one hand grasped her waist gently and the other was pushing against her bum to help her over. Once Molly stuck the landing, she moved out of the way as Sherlock backed up to run and jump over the fence. He landed on his feet with a thud.

“Sherlock, you need to be more quiet,” Molly giggled. She had already slipped off her t-shirt and jeans, leaving her in her underthings.

“Do I?” he smirked, stepping closer. He pulled his shirt over his head of onyx curls and tossed it to the ground. He leaned down to brush his lips against her neck, giving a small nip. She yelped in surprise then quickly covered her mouth.

“Seriously, Sherlock, what if John hears us?” Molly warned. She was not one to break the rules, but he was rubbing off on her. He rolled his eyes playfully at her as he slipped off his jeans, leaving him in his boxers and they climbed into the pool. They both dunked themselves under the water and Molly pressed a light, closed-mouth kiss to his full lips before they came up for air. Sherlock wrapped his arms around her waist and nuzzled his nose against hers before tickling her sides. Molly burst out laughing, a bit too loudly, alerting John to the racket in his backyard. When he made his way out of the backdoor, he saw Sherlock and Molly in the pool snogging each other senselessly clad only in their underthings.

“Bloody hell,” John shouted, causing his friends to jump. Molly leaned her face into Sherlock’s bare chest, and for a moment, John swore she was crying. It wasn’t long before he realized she was actually laughing so hard, tears were streaming down her face. Sherlock joined in with her, amused by the expression on John’s face.

“Thought we’d make good use of your pool,” Sherlock casually remarked.

“Alright, get out,” John demanded, crossing his arms. “I expected better of you, Molly.”

“Can’t we stay a little while longer, John? Please?” she asked, a light blush coloring her cheeks.

“Fine,” John conceded, “but no shagging or I swear to—”

“You needn’t worry, John, that will take place elsewhere,” Sherlock grinned.

“Cheeky bugger,” Molly playfully scolded him with a light slap to his arm.

“I should take up drinking,” John mumbled under his breath as he walked back into his house.

Those days are long gone but when I hear that song, it takes me back.

Molly Hooper, new head pathologist at St. Bart’s, was reminiscing about her whirlwind romance with Sherlock Holmes. They were high school sweethearts that broke up over the long distance that came with going to separate universities. She sighed sadly as the memories flooded her mind. Their song had come on the small radio she kept in her office. It was a cheesy eighties ballad by the name of I Want to Know What Love Is.

“Doctor Hooper?” DI Lestrade called out, peering into her office.

“Yes, that’s me,” Molly smiled, snapping out of her nostalgia. “What can I do for you?”

“We need your expertise in the morgue,” he informed her.

“Of course,” she agreed, leading the way.

We laid a blanket on the rooftop that time I knew I wouldn’t make him stop. The nights were cold but we kept ‘em hot.

They were looking at the stars, lying on an old duvet that Molly laid out on the balcony rooftop of her house.

“What do you see?” Molly asked, looking up into the night sky.

“I see the most gorgeous girl I have had the good fortune of loving,” Sherlock spoke softly in her ear, his warm breath giving her chills while combined with the cool September air. She turned to look at him, her eyes all aglow. The desire of needing to come together as one overcame them, tension lingering between them.

“It’s a bit chilly innit?” she asked. Sherlock said nothing but kissed her passionately.

“I’ll keep you warm,” he whispered against her lips. Molly melted into him and lost herself in his arms for the night.

I remember what it felt like; just a small town kinda life. If I could only just go back in time…

Molly tried to keep the memories at bay but no such luck. She and Lestrade stopped outside of the doors of the morgue.

“Aren’t you coming?” she asked.

“Eh, no. He doesn’t like more than the necessary amount of people being around him,” the detective inspector told her.

“Who is he?” she inquired.

“He’s a consulting detective; the only one in existence. I know it’s a silly title, right?” Lestrade laughed but Molly allowed a gasp to slip from her lips, rushing into the morgue. Greg Lestrade just stood there, his brows furrowed at her outburst.

There he was, studying the cadaver before him. He had the same dark curls and oceanic eyes that Molly had drowned in so many times.

“Ah, finally, let’s hope you’re comp—” the words died on Sherlock’s lips as he looked up at a ghost from his past. The girl he had fallen in love with all those years ago and never stopped loving stood before him just as beautiful as the day they met. “Molly.”

“Sherlock,” she replied, allowing his name to be voiced for the first time in years. Molly assumed it would feel foreign to say it out loud again, but it felt like home, as if no time had passed at all.

Acting stupid for fun, all we needed was love and that’s the way it’s supposed to be.

John Watson walked into 221B, the flat he shared with Sherlock. His best friend’s clothes were strewn across the flat.

“Can’t bloody pick up his own laundry,” John complained as he gathered each item in his arms. He tossed open the door to Sherlock’s bedroom, ready to toss them inside when he found Sherlock snogging none other than Molly Hooper against the wall. His jaw dropped so far, he could’ve sworn it hit the floor.

“Bloody hell!” he exclaimed. “It’s like we’re all seventeen again!”

“Um, hey, John,” Molly blushed, stifling a laugh.

“John,” Sherlock said with irritation.

“Yes?” he answered.

“A bit not good,” Sherlock remarked. John got the hint and backed out of the bedroom, deciding to go out for an ice lolly or something; anything.

“Now where were we?” Molly flirted before Sherlock continued to snog her senselessly.

“I love you.”

“I missed you.”

Fanfiction.Net | Ao3

[thedragonsteaparty]

Recently I was reminiscing with my other half about our favourite games, he has been very keen on launching his favourites at me (Portal, Final Fantasy, Stardew Valley, etc), all of which I’ve enjoyed (with the exception of FFVIII), while he hasn’t really tried ones that I like yet. He did download Dragon Age Inquisition but stopped playing literally when the intro was over. It hurts my soul that he did this but he didn’t like the gameplay, even though he didn’t see much of it or play for long enough to appreciate any character development or story… but I’m not bitter. I got to talking about Neverwinter Nights with him, a game which I may have mentioned occasionally in previous posts. He has never played it and I got a little carried away reminiscing about it. It’s about time that these games, both the first and second, have a post dedicated to them because it is easy to say that they (specifically the second one) are my favourite games of all time.

Let’s start at the beginning and I’ll set the scene. The year was 2002, potentially the summer, I was a mere child of 8 and I was watching my dad play his latest game: Neverwinter Nights. My previous favourite games to watch him play were Baldur’s Gate and Doom (those are the ones that stick most in my memory at least, Doom probably not for good reasons). Then BOOM along came NWN with its incredible story, wonderful characters, and – at the time – great graphics. I was hooked. I can’t remember specifically when I started playing NWN myself because I used to sort of have a go, often starting from the beginning over and over as I did with most ‘big’ games in my youth, one day though I did finish it properly, it was probably the first ever ‘adult’ game I ever finished and I was VERY proud. I then went on to play the expansion packs Hordes of the Underdark and Shadows of the Undrentide, which were also very good.

Check out those sweet 2002 graphics at work. Side note: I miss the use of artwork for character portraits.

Thinking about it, the reason NWN appealed to me at such a young age was probably the wonderful storytelling in the game and the engagement with the NPCs. NWN is based on Dungeons and Dragons, using the same fighting mechanism and the same Forgotten Realms world as a base, this is also most likely why it has such a great story. When I started playing D&D a couple of years ago I realised just how similar the two were. The text scrolling along the side of the screen in NWN for example helped me understand (sort of) how to play D&D quite quickly, or at least to improvise what I didn’t understand to create a playable game.

Unfortunately I don’t remember a huge amount of the first NWN, just that I enjoyed it immensely, I always thought the paladin Lady Aribeth de Tylmarande (pictured below in her awesome armour) was one of the coolest female video game characters ever (she looked so badass) and henchman Daelan Red Tiger was always my bro. When I come into possession of a gaming PC/Laptop I will be playing it again to relive some of my youth but until then I’ll have to make the rest of this post about NWN2.

Simply because I remember it more and spent A LOT of time on it, NWN2 will always be my favourite game. The magic of that game is just something I’ve never experienced with anything else. I connected so much to the characters (that sounds kind of sad but I really did, especially my bestie Khelgar), the story was brilliant, there are so many wonderful things added to it that give the whole world and the story so much depth, for example when you have to find each of the spirits that knew the Shadow King – the big bad guy – before he was corrupted by power and they tell you stories about what he was like before. It gives you such an unexpected connection to this creepy looking dude that you fight at the end and you feel sorry for him. Then there’s all those books that you can pick up and read but you don’t need – who writes those?! It’s actually someone’s job to write them! – If you want to you can learn about all the places, and about some of the characters, through books, NPCs and codices found in the game creating a whole history behind this world, solidifying it in your mind and making it seem almost like an exotic, medieval style country you’ve never been to but learned about in school or something.

The Shadow King, bit of a tribute to Frank from Donnie Darko I always thought

SPOILER PARAGRAPH Another big thing was killing off Shandra halfway through the game. While she could be a little stuck up at first she grows on you and is set as a permanent companion, like your apprentice. I remember the first time I played through it and the death scene happened and all the companions expressing how they all felt about it (the gnome broke my heart, he was so upset) it was so unexpected as I’d never played anything that had killed off a main character before (this was 2006 so I was like 12 or 13 and hadn’t experienced as many games as I have now… but thinking about it I can’t think of a huge amount that do kill off main characters like that even now), I had tears in my eyes and had to take a moment to calm down.

MORE SPOILERS Then there was another new thing I had never come across in a game before – alternative endings. Before the final battle the Shadow King will try to persuade some of your companions over to his side, and it’s pretty much inevitable a couple will go, making you try to have them feel your glare through the screen as they swagger over to his side on a cloud of betrayal. I could never get enough influence over power-hungry Qara to have her not fight against me and the only way I ever got Bishop not to fight was by romancing him (more on that later). On top of that the Shadow King will also ask you if you want to join him, and you can! Despite trying to do an ‘evil’ play through I just can never be an evil character and never did that, I feel unnecessarily guilty about committing fictional evil acts. I’ve seen the bad ending though through the power of YouTube and it’s quite nasty in places. I’m glad I never did it or I would have been riddled with guilt.

On to what I mentioned before about romancing. This was the first game (lots of firsts here) I played where romancing was something that could add to the plot, or sub-plot. I almost always play as a female character and in NWN2 you have two love interests per gender. Both are heterosexual choices (the incredible display of Bioware’s sexually diverse characters didn’t arrive until 2009 when Dragon Age was released). As a female I had the choice between “he’s a bad boy but I can fix him!” Bishop the ranger, and “your holy aura of goodness and purity is blinding me” Casavir the paladin. I found this a bit unfair because Bishop was a total dick but was as fit as a bunch of 2006 pixels could get *swoon*. On the other hand you had Casavir, who was very nice but I thought he was boring and looked a little bit like he’d been beaten with a pixelated ugly stick (or maybe this is just my taste in men). I couldn’t shake the feeling they hadn’t meant to make him look quite like that. Pretty sure male characters got the best deal here with their choice being between pure, innocent Elanee the elf and the quirky, chaotic-but-not-evil Neeshka the tiefling. Seemed easier than the female’s choice of “you can either romance Satan or Jesus”. Despite my reserves about them I enjoyed the extra stories and side quests these romance options opened up, and the romance option was optional anyway so I didn’t have to stress about who to choose if I didn’t want to.

Bishop

Casavir

Perhaps I have been spoiled by the ‘golden age’ of RPGs because I am really struggling at the moment to find more RPGs of the same calibre of NWN, Baldur’s Gate, and Dragon Age. It seems like RPGs at the moment are either online, JRPGs, or they’re sort of from a first person perspective (The Witcher, Dark Souls, Skyrim…). While I enjoy those I don’t get as immersed in them as I do with my classic favourites, I never really feel like I am the character, I feel like I’ve been assigned a character to play. Sometimes I like that but I largely prefer having a character I can start from scratch with and mould their personality as I play through the game. On top of that I can’t really think of any characters from games recently where I’ve been emotionally invested in what happens to them and actually really like them. I suppose Borderlands comes pretty close, they have some good characters in there but as they don’t travel with you or fight with you – unless it’s part of a quest – it doesn’t really count. You could argue that you get that NPC relationship with JRPGs, playing through FFX at the moment I’d be pretty upset if something happened to one of my team but to be honest it wouldn’t hit me anywhere near as hard as if they killed off Varric in Dragon Age, for example (they don’t BTW in case you had a brief moment of panic, it was a hypothetical example).

Do you have any RPG recommendations for me? What are your favourite RPGs? Who else played Neverwinter Nights? Also, how cool would that NWN eye be as a tattoo? (Not thinking of getting one, just an observation…)

Nostalgia Moment: Neverwinter Nights (1 and 2) Recently I was reminiscing with my other half about our favourite games, he has been very keen on launching his favourites at me (Portal, Final Fantasy, Stardew Valley, etc), all of which I’ve enjoyed (with the exception of FFVIII), while he hasn’t really tried ones that I like yet.

[lindyhunt]

Ariana Grande Tweeted (& Deleted) Shade at Pete Davidson

Ariana Grande and Pete Davidson became the most talked about celebrity couple of Summer 2018, melting hearts worldwide with their adorable social media love fest. On the heels of their respective public breakups, the pair entered into a whirlwind romance—and they brought all of us with them. Their PDA-filled relationship gave us multiple matching tattoos, cloud-shaped phone cases, and NSFW tweets (which have since been deleted) about Pete’s manhood. And then, it was all over.

From their initial meeting on Saturday Night Live to a surprise quickie engagement to their eventual split, here’s a play by play of everything that’s happened in this roller coaster ride of a relationship.

 March 12, 2016: Ariana and Pete meet on Saturday Night Live

Grande and Davidson first meet on the set of Saturday Night Live, where she appeared as the host and musical guest, but both are in relationships with other people at the time; Grande is with longterm boyfriend Mac Miller and Davidson is dating Cazzie David.

Omg it's true 🥀 if they're both happy then it makes me happy. ~ @arianagrande #arianagrande #arianagrandebutera #maciana #arianagrandemacmiller #arianator #arianators #arianaarmy #tinyelephant #sweeteneriscoming

A post shared by taking a lil break / offline (@greedybuteragrande) on May 10, 2018 at 10:50am PDT

May 9, 2018: Ariana confirms split from Mac Miller

Grande shocks fans when she releases an emotional and vulnerable statement confirming she’s ended her two year relationship with Miller. E News reports that the split was an amicable one with the two remaining close friends, but busy work schedules drove them apart.

 May 12, 2018: SNL after party meet up

According to Us Weekly, Grande and Davidson are spotted hanging out at an SNL after party at Zuma, with Grande spending the whole night with Davidson’s mom. She was later photographed leaving with a cloud shaped cell phone case that looked exactly like the one Davidson has.

  May 16, 2018: Pete and Cazzie break-up

Davidson reveals he’s split with his girlfriend on a Open Late with Peter Rosenberg appearance, calling her a “very talented girl” and explaining that “she’ll be great and she’ll be fine.” According to People when Davidson was asked about his relationship status, he responded, “We’re not together anymore.”

May 20, 2018: Pete supports Ariana at the Billboard Music Awards 

After both confirming the end of their respective relationships, Davidson is caught on film by a fan supporting Grande at the Billboard Music Awards, her first awards show appearance since the horrific Manchester terror attack. A source tells People, “After Ariana’s performance, they were backstage and he had his arm around her, they seemed very lovey-dovey.” Fans later discover a cloud tattoo on Grande’s finger reminiscent of the one Davidson has.

May 21, 2018: The start of something new

News officially breaks that the couple is for sure an item, but according to People, the relationship is still extremely new, labelling it as “very casual”.

pic.twitter.com/1GPM6smsBu

— Ariana Grande (@ArianaGrande) May 23, 2018

May 23, 2018 : Ariana hits back at fan

After Miller was arrested for a DUI, fans took to twitter to attack Grande, blaming their breakup for his reckless behaviour. In a tweet that has since gone viral, Grande sets the record straight, providing new and intimate details into their “toxic relationship”.

May 25, 2018: Pete defends relationship with Ariana

Following Grande’s epic clap back, Davidson posts a long note of his own to his Instagram story, discussing his mental health, after people criticize Grande for dating someone that has Borderline Personality Disorder.

View this post on Instagram

Okay now they’re just doing it for our benefit. #CommentsByCelebs

A post shared by @ commentsbycelebs on May 25, 2018 at 2:35pm PDT

May 26, 2018: Ariana and Pete get flirty on IG

Grande and Davidson continue to fuel dating rumours, posting super flirty comments on each others IG pics all week, captured by Instagram account CommentsbyCelebs.

May 29, 2018: Ariana supports Pete at comedy show

It’s Grande’s turn to support Davidson as he performs at The Comedy Store in Los Angeles, sharing a snap to her Instagram story of him that she captions with heart eye emojis.

the chamber of secrets has been opened …

A post shared by Pete Davidson (@petedavidson) on May 30, 2018 at 10:00am PDT

May 30, 2018: The relationship is officially confirmed

The duo finally make it Instagram official, posting a homage pic to Harry Potter. Davidson’s caption is “the chamber of secrets has been opened”, possibly alluding that their relationship is outed. Grande commented, “U tryna Slytherin (I’m deleting my account now).”

  View this post on Instagram

We had a good night.

A post shared by L O N D O N R E E S E (@londonreese) on Jun 2, 2018 at 9:48am PDT

Davidson shows his love for Grande in a permanent way, getting two Grande themed tattoos; one referencing her Dangerous Woman bunny ears and the other showcasing the singer’s initials “AG”.  Davidson’s tattoo artist, London Reese, says “Pete loves him some Ariana” on his Instagram story.

June 2, 2018: Pete gets two Ariana themed tattoos

Photography by Kevin Mazur/Getty

June 2, 2018: Ariana photographed wearing her engagement ring

Long before their engagement was officially confirmed, Grande was pictured backstage at Wango Tango wearing the $93,000 sparkler.

HAHAHAHAHAHH HES BEEN BRIEFED

— Ariana Grande (@ArianaGrande) June 12, 2018

June 11, 2018: Ariana and Pete are reportedly engaged

Reports begin to surface that the two are engaged, with Grande fanning the rumour mill with her Twitter activity. Us Weekly states, ” They are looking forward to a very long engagement together”, with People reporting, “It’s a recent engagement. They’re just two people who found love quickly and make each other happy all the time.”

u know what you’d dream it be like ? it’s better than that

A post shared by Pete Davidson (@petedavidson) on Jun 15, 2018 at 12:16pm PDT

June 15, 2018: Pete confirms their engagement

Davidson confirms the engagement on IG, with a post that shows off Grande’s massive ring.

‘pete’ !

— Ariana Grande (@ArianaGrande) June 18, 2018

June 19, 2018: A song about Pete

While talking to fans on twitter, Grande reveals new details about her upcoming album Sweetener, explaining she made a last minute addition to the album with the song named Pete.

ariana, pete and a few of their friends got matching H2GKMO (honest to god knock me out) tattoos! hopefully we get a picture of pete’s soon #arianagrande #petedavidson #petiana #peteiana #grandson

A post shared by ariana grande & pete davidson (@peteandariana) on Jun 18, 2018 at 1:19pm PDT

June 20, 2018: Matching tattoos round #2

Grande and Davidson get more matching tattoos, this time of H2GKMO (honest to God knock me out), posting a video to Instagram showing them off.

Tonight Pete Davidson confirms his engagement to Ariana Grande. Here's a sneak peek. Tune in to #FallonTonight for the full interview. pic.twitter.com/NjxmZ2njgR

— Fallon Tonight (@FallonTonight) June 20, 2018

June 21, 2018: Pete talks about engagement on Jimmy Fallon 

Davidson appears on Jimmy Fallon, describing his engagement as “winning a contest.”

June 26, 2018: Happy Birthday Ariana

Just when you thought they couldn’t get any cuter, Davidson posts the sweetest birthday message for Grande, calling her “the most precious angel.”

Photograph courtesy of Robert Kamau/ GC Images

July 2, 2018: Tattoo tribute to Pete’s late father

Grande debuts a new foot tattoo “8418”, which was the badge number of Davidson’s late father who was a firefighter and passed away during the September 11 terrorist attacks in NYC.

July 5,2018: Ariana addresses Pete’s Manchester joke

At a stand-up show last fall—well before the couple linked up—Pete Davidson made a joke about the Manchester Arena bombing that killed 22 patrons at an Ariana Grande concert. Essentially, the joke was that the horrific incident lead Grande to realize how famous she was, because “Britney Spears didn’t have a terrorist attack at her concert.” (Poor taste, we know.)

With the joke resurfacing on the web, Ariana finally felt she needed to comment. In a since deleted tweet, she wrote: “this has been v tough & conflicting on my heart. he uses comedy to help ppl feel better ab how f-ed up things in this world are. we all deal w trauma differently. I of course didn’t find it funny. it was months ago & his intention wasn’t/ is never malicious but it was unfortunate.”

July 23, 2018: Pete deletes all his Instagrams

When Pete Davidson wiped his Instagram account Monday — deleting ALL traces of his beloved fiancé — the Internet started freaking out. Which, after a few short hours in the dark, prompted the comedian to return to the platform to clear up a few things.

“No there’s nothing wrong. No nothing happened. No there’s nothing cryptic about anything,” he explained on Instagram Stories. “I just don’t wanna be on Instagram anymore. Or on any social media platform. The internet is an evil place and it doesn’t make me feel good. Why should I spend any time on negative energy when my real life is fucking lit. The fact that I even have to say this proves my point. I love you all and I’m sure I’ll be back at some point.”

Davidson’s departure from social media seems to have rubbed off on Grande, who responded to a fan saying that she’s also taking a step back from Twitter and Instagram. “Just sometimes can’t help but bump into some negative shit that really can bum u out,” she wrote on Monday, “and it’s not worth it honestly.”

yeh ! i’m prolly gonna post on der for a little while & take a breather from twitter & ig for a little. just sometimes can’t help but bump into some negative shit that really can bum u out and it’s not worth it honestly. promised i’d always tell you. i love u sm ! be well & happy

— Ariana Grande (@ArianaGrande) July 23, 2018

TBH, we’re really going to miss those gross PDA comments you guys leave on each other’s photos.

August 15, 2018: Pete tosses a wrench in our timeline

Okay, so this timeline might be even shorter than we initially thought. When Pete Davidson was interviewed for GQ‘s September issue, he revealed: “The day I met her, I was like, ‘Hey, I’ll marry you tomorrow. She was calling my bluff. I sent her a picture [of engagement rings]. I was like, ‘Do you like any of these?’ She was like, ‘Those are my favourite ones,’ and I was like, ‘Sick.'” The ring he settled on? A 3-carat pear diamond ring — worth $93,000.

October 14, 2018: Pete and Ariana call off the engagement

Well, it seems another one of our young Hollywood relationship timelines has come to its end. A source has confirmed to TMZ that Ariana Grande and Pete Davidson have split after five months of dating, calling of their short engagement. “We’re told the two still have love for each other,” TMZ shared, “but things are over romantically.”

November 1, 2018: Pete jokes about his engagement on SNL

In a new Saturday Night Live promo, Davidson jokingly proposes to musical guest, singer Maggie Rogers. “Hey Maggie, I’m Pete. You wanna get married?” Pete asks.

“No,” Rogers says shaking her head.

“0-for-three,” Davidson says to the camera.

November 1, 2018: Ariana tweets (& deletes) shade at Pete

Then, in what is perceived to be a subtweet at Davidson, Grande tweeted and deleted: “For somebody who claims to hate relevancy u sure love clinging to it huh.”

Ariana Grande just subtweeted Pete Davidson and then said “thank u, next.” pic.twitter.com/WLkNahvwnR

— Ryan Schocket (@RyanSchocket) November 2, 2018

[definedwriting-blog]

She Tasted Of Cinnamon & Vanilla

    She tasted of cinnamon and vanilla. Oh, how I miss her passion, her soul, her everything. All that's left behind is the scent of her infused deep into her shirts that she left behind. The flames of our passion burnt so brightly in their final days, like the will of a fading quasar.

    On those cold winter nights, we’d used to cuddle on the sofa and I’d cradle her head in my arms as she stretched herself out along its length. She was the dearest, most precious thing, and it reflected in the way I'd run my fingers through her hair. She was the most obscure, yet divine creature. Which at that time, was exactly what she was. Nothing less.

    Her name? I don’t even remember anymore as I look at what I leave behind, what is left for the final time. The one thing I remember is how her skin felt against mine. As they pushed up against each other, as warm beads slid right down our youthful bodies in the summer rain. Oh, it was so smooth, like silk born from an angel above.

    I long once again for that warmth, but it’s no longer there and never will be again. She’s gone off, gone far away, never to return. Never to return to my arms. The warmth. It's truly gone.

    Her lips were the dense colour of sweet strawberries. The crimson slowly fading to white as she pressed her lips against mine. I still remember the taste, the smell of the sweet perfume. If only.

    I still reminisce back to that day, when she was crying in the dark of night. The scorned silence that lingered in the air just above the soft sobs of a weeping maiden. As she sat all alone on the curb, warm tears rolling down those rosy cheeks.

    Through the tears came her words, “Kiss me,” like our romance something tragic born of disaster. Impassioned in a maelstrom of seemingly endless agony, the emotions ran wild. That night was only the first among dozens. The precursor of many in this morose fate of entwined sorrow.

    But none of that matters. Not anymore. That intensity, that blinding emotion of wretched love, it'll never be mine again. Not without her. I wish she didn't have to leave, I wish she'd stayed. I wish she’d come back.