#especially with the gorgeous arm dance weaving in the finale

[andydrysdalerogers]

Undercover ~ Five ~ My Girl

Pairings: Jake Jensen and OFC Samantha Matthews

The Losers have made it back to their families and are out. Well, almost. A threat against the British crown needs to be handled and the CIA has tapped the Losers for one final mission. And they are sending in Jensen.

Jake Jensen hasn't been a civilian in years but now he's undercover to find out why his target is where he is and who he's after.

Enter Sam, someone who Jake doesn't expect and well, he didn't know he was looking for.

Can Jake handle his mission and falling in love? Especially when the truth leads to a bigger mission than expected?

*~* A Jake Jensen Story *~*

Author's note: this story continues after the events of the Losers. I may weave other characters into it but they are all minor. THE TAGLIST IS OPEN.

The playlist is available on Spotify.

cover photo by me! Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Warnings: angst, death, smut, and a bunch of stuff a can’t say because it gives away the plot!

Previous: Four ~ Sara Lee's

Story Masterlist // Main Masterlist

You know that phrase – walking on cloud nine? 

That’s Jake.  

He has no idea how he got to work.  

He has no idea how he got dressed.  

He only has one thing on his mind.  

Sam.  

His princess.  

Not the nickname he meant to have for her, but it works because she is just too precious and beautiful.  He wanted to be her knight in shiny armor, the one to slay the dragon.  With perfect timing, My Girl by the Temptations hits his headphones and Jake smiles as he hums to himself.  He gets to his floor, doing a little dance before he sees something that bothers him. He pulled off one of his headphones. 

“Mr. Fitzgerald, Mr. Anderson is not here yet so I will need to ask you to leave.”  

Jake could hear the frustration mixed with fear laced in Sam’s voice. He stepped close but out of the line of sight.  He knew Sam was strong but if she needed back up, he would step in.  

“Miss Matthews, don’t you want me to be close to you?” John cooed at her.  

“I’d rather sit on a cactus,” she replied.  “Now, please leave.”  

“I think you are making a rather foolish mistake, Samantha.”  John took a step forward.  

“And I think you are asking for a sexual harassment lawsuit,” she threw back at him.  

That was enough for Jake.  He stepped forward, “Hey Sam!”  

Sam sighed in relief.  “Hi JJ.” She moved to give Jake a kiss and a hug, missing the absolute rage face John gave the couple.  “You sleep well?” 

“Like a log. Nothing but good dreams,” he flashed her his signature half smile that positively would bring her to her knees.  

“Same.  Coffee later?” 

“Actually, since we are still early, would you like to nip down to Starbucks. My treat?” 

“I’d love to. Let me grab my bag.”  She turned back to her desk and gasped. “I left it in the break room.  I’ll be right back.”  She left her office, leaving the two men.  

“What do you think you are doing, Jensen?”  

“Taking my girl for coffee, Fitzgerald.” Jake got up in his face, still an inch or two taller than the man.  “You harass her again and I will pummel your ass.”  

Fitzgerald smirked. “You have no idea who you are dealing with, do you?” 

Jake knew he had to make the man think he was underestimating him.  He knew exactly who he was dealing with.  Ex-special forces for M-I 6, currently a for-hire mercenary, trained in multiple styles of martial arts, expert marksman.  But he needed John to keep his guard down on unassuming nerdy tech Jake Jensen.  

“Yeah, some punk accountant who won’t leave a lady alone after she asked nicely.  I know a great attorney.  Leave her alone.” Jake spun around and went to find Sam.  

John gritted his teeth as he watched the IT nerd walk away.  Jake Jensen was messing with the wrong man and the wrong cause.  

Sam walked out of the break room and found a gorgeous man waiting for her.  “Well, isn’t my knight in t-shirt armor.”  

“At your service, milady,” he replied with a bow. She giggled as he offered his arm, and she threaded her own through.  “So, I never asked, are you a straight coffee drinker or do you like specialty?”  

“Depends on the day.  If it's bad, I want all the sugar.  If it’s normal I’m ok with anything.”  

“So, if I make you mad, I need to bring you the sweetest coffee to butter you up.  Got it.  Filed that in my Sam folder.”  

That made Sam laughs out loud.  “Your Sam folder?” 

“Everything I've ever learned about you. All filed away for all scenarios.” He tapped his temple. “ For example, last night, I brought you a gin martini and a vodka one, but you only really drank the gin one.  Noted and filed.  You rearrange your burger plate before eating.  Now I know you like organization.”  

Sam looked at him with a blank face.  

Jake swallowed and patted the back of his neck.  “Sorry, I guess it’s the Ex-military in me.  I was trained to observe and retain.”  

Sam pulled him close to her and she got up on her tip toes.  “I think its super sweet,” she mumbled against his lips before pressing them to hers. Jake wrapped his arm around her waist to bring her closer and deepen the kiss slightly.  He pulled back to breathe, and they both had goofy smiles.  

The rest of the day flew, with Sam and Jake softly flirting through the instant messages.  A permanent smile was etched on Sam’s face and Mike took notice.  

“Who is he?” 

Sam jumped as Mike laughed at her reaction.  “What?” 

“Who is making the old Samantha reappear.” He took a sip of his afternoon coffee as he studied the flush of her cheeks.  

“Umm, just a guy,” she replied, feeling her ears getting warm.  

“Right.  About six feet, blond hair, glasses, new manager of our security tech team?” 

“What?” She squeaked.  

“Sam, sweetheart, its ok.  If Jake makes you happy then I’m all for it.  It's been a couple of years since Terry.  You deserve this.”  

“Thanks Mike.  We had our first date last night and hopefully have one tonight.”  

“Well, good luck.”  

The end of the day came, and Jake made his way over to Sam as close shop for the weekend.  “Ready to go princess?” 

“Sure JJ.”  She smiled at him and took his hand.  He led them out.  

“I was thinking, dinner and the carnival the next town over. What do ya say?” 

“I love the carnival.  You gonna win me a bear, JJ?” 

He kissed the side of her head as he put his arm around her.  “I’ll win you the biggest bear ever princess.”  

Jake drove Sam out to an Italian restaurant, treating her to one of the best lasagna she had ever had. The conversation flowed, Sam laughing at the stories Jake would share, Jake at full attention whenever Sam would tell a little more about herself.  

As the evening drew to a close, Jake walked Sam to her door, her newly won bear in her arms.  “I had an amazing night with you JJ.”  

“It was pretty good princess. Do you like your bear?” 

She looked down at the electric pink bear that had sparkles in its fur.  “I love it. Thank you for winning it for me.”  She looked up at him, her doe eyes making him feel like he was lost in the universe.  

He swallowed.  “It was my pleasure, princess.”  He leaned down and gently pressed his lips to hers. She melted against him as she moaned, and he deepened the kiss. He pulled back, just a bit to breathe, their lips still touching.  

“You wanna come in JJ?” She whispered against him.  

“Yeah,” he kissed her again, softly, before he let her go enough for her to turn and open the door.  Once they made it inside, Jake grasped her under her thighs to lift her up, Sam giggling as she held on around his neck, kissing right behind his ear.  

Jake growled at the sensation as he sat on her couch, forcing her to straddle his lap. His hands loved to her ass, kneading and squeezing, causing little moans to slip out of her mouth.  His mouth was busy, kissing around her neck. “JJ, god, please Jake.”  

“Tell me what you want, pretty girl.” Jake nipped at her collarbone. 

Sam lost her words but pushed her hips down onto his growing erection, causing him to groan at the pressure. She kissed him harder as she began to move back and forth.  

“So, my princess is a bad girl.” Jake pulled her back so she could look into his eyes.  “Good.  Because I want you to beg me. Where is your room?” 

“It's...uh... shit... down the hall. Last door.”  She squealed as Jake lifted her up, showing off how strong his arms were and carried her to her bedroom.  He laid her down on the bed and pulled off her shoes as she stared at him with her pupils blown.  

“I’m going to wreck you, pretty girl.”  She moaned softly as her hips floated up uncontrollably.  “You like that, Samantha?  She nodded as he crawled up to undo the button of her pants.  

“Jakey, please,” she wailed.  

“Oh, baby, I bet you taste good.” He placed his nose at the apex of her thighs and inhaled, smelling the arousal in her panties.  He placed a kiss over her clothed heat, and she jumped.  Jake smiled and moved upward, kissing her skin, gripping the hem of her blouse.  He pulled it up with him and placed kisses over the swell of her perky breasts. She tasted sweet to him, like forbidden fruit.  

Jake gave her a soft but deep kiss as he let his finger run over the silk of her panties, feeling the moisture that was now seeping through. He began to kiss down, dipping his tongue in her navel.  As he moved, he pulled her panties down to reveal herself to him. “Goddamm baby, you look delicious.”  He let his tongue explore her folds.  He listened to her mewl, “more,” and he smiled. He lifted her legs over his shoulders, smiled at her before sitting up, basically letting Sam dangle off his body.  

“JJ?” She questioned with a tremble in her voice.  

“Oh princess, I want you to feel everything.”  He latched onto her clit and began sucking and nibbling, getting Sam to start screaming.  He let a finger play with her folds before inserting his middle finger in. Sam could feel his rather thick finger penetrate her and she knew he was going to be big.  And then she realized he was still fully clothed while she was still in her bra. The roughness of his shirt against her ass just heightened her delight of his roughness.  

Jake couldn’t remember the last time a pussy tasted so good.  He was lost in her taste as he ate her like a man starved.  He could feel her clenching his finger as he moved, working to find that spot in her that would driver her crazy.  It took a couple of minutes but soon she started to squirm away from it.  “A-ha! I found it,” Jake crowed.  He worked her hard and then he heard... 

“Jake! I’m gonna cum! Oh god!” 

“Let go princess! Give me all your nectar!” Jake pushed a couple more times until Sam wailed and he tasted the sweet honey she released.  He worked her through the high before gently letting her down.  As he looked at her dazed look, he smiled and let her lay there, chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath.  Jake chuckled and worked on removing his clothes.  He fished for a condom from his wallet before letting his pants fall on the floor. Sam’s eyes began to focus when he moved to remove his boxers and roll on the rubber over his impressive length.   

“J-jake? I don’t think it will fit,” she said with a gasp.  

“Oh baby, I’ll go slow.” He climbed on top of her and pushed her legs farther apart to make room. He slotted in between and rubbed his tip in between her folds.  She mewled but still looked nervous.  “If you want me to stop, just say the word, princess.”  

“No, I want this JJ, I’m just nervous.”  

“Don’t be, princess.  I’m not gonna hurt you.”  He kissed her softly as he pushed slowly into her.  She groaned at the stretch, the fullness she was feeling.  It was nothing like Terry or anyone else for that matter.  “Sam, so tight, you were just made for me, weren’t you?” He didn’t stop until he was all the way in. He gave her a moment until she pleaded with him to move, and he slowly pulled out, as she cried out from the sensation.  Jake froze for a second.  “Princess, am I hurting you?” 

“No JJ, it feels so good.  Like a dream.  Please don’t stop.”  

Jake smiled as he pushed in faster and a little harder. His tip reached that spot in her that made her see stars. Sam moaned and groaned in pleasure, the fullness completing her.  “Harder, Jake, please.”  

Jake lifted Sam’s legs over his hip and began to pound her into the mattress.  “Like this, little girl?  You want me to ruin you for anyone else?” 

“Yes! Jake! Please! Oh god!”  Sam was starting to lose herself in the moment.  “Jake!” 

“Cum for me Samantha, squeeze me good.”  

Sam shuddered as her second orgasm washed over her, screaming Jake’s name as he showed no mercy, trying to reach his own high.  It didn’t take long, Sam was squeezing him in a vice grip. “Fuck! Sam!” Jake thrusted once more and released into the condom.  He landed on top of her but put most of his weight on his arms.  

The room was quiet except for their heavy breathing.  “Are you ok?” Jake asked.  

“I’m perfect JJ.”  Sam smiled softly as she kissed his nose.  

I’ll be right back, he kissed her forehead and carefully pulled out of her.  He went into the ensuite to clean up and grabbed as wash cloth.  He carefully cleaned her up and then climbed back into the bed.  

“You understand that I will never let you go now, right?”  Jake asked as she snuggled on his chest. He could feel Sam smile against his skin.  

“You understand that I don’t want to be anywhere else, right?” 

Jake smiled and kissed her forehead, holding her a little tighter as they drifted off to sleep.  

John stared at the couple in bed, sound asleep, naked as they held each other.  It would be so easy to kill then right now but he needed to bide his time.  The only way for the plan to succeed was to keep Sam alive.  

John walked out of the house and reset the alarms so as not to alert them.  He lit a cigarette as he walked away, the smell of sex had turned him on.  Soon, it would be him and Samantha in the throes of passion.  And Jake would be gone from this world.   

NEXT

Taglist:

@patzammit

@texmexdarling

@slutforchrisjamalevans

@firephotogrl74

@tinkerbelle67

@before-we-get-started

@bunnyforhim

@alexakeyloveloki

@sunnyhummingbee

@whiskeytangofoxtrot555

@peaceinourtime82

@saucy-sassy-sparkly

@kmc1989

@kandis-mom

@lokislady82

#andy's shenanigans #andy's hea #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #Jake jensen #jake jensen smut #jake jensen fic #the losers #the losers au #chris evans fic #ofc Samantha matthews #British royalty au #Jake jensen au #Jake jensen x Samantha matthews #undercover

[mysteriesmuse]

A/N: I don’t know what this is. It just happened in my brain, maybe I’m just tired of being single lately, but some of it is really super cute! The cheering part on stage and giggly accent thing is “mwah” *chief’s kiss* perfection of fluffy Hisirdoux things.

Over the many, many, many, many, many, many years Douxie has known you he’s come to realize several things about . . .

1. You can not do accents for the life of you. You are so, so terrible, he cringes whenever you attempt to copy his. But does that stop him from drawling out words? Hmm. No, he gets endless enjoyment from showering you in the word love over and over again as it rolls of his tongue. He may never actually word up the courage to confess it; sandwiched between a few other words, but he loves watching your noise crinkle as you move your pretty pink little lips to try and copy his. And he can’t say that watching your eyes dance across the line of sight with his lips in it, so attentively, doesn’t get him feeling some certain kind of way. He sometimes has he mind go numb as he focuses on your voice and the hazy telescope vision on your lips. . .

2. Over the course of the many years he’s never seen you have morning voice over on the few times you’ve had sleep overs. Douxie will find you, a head of messy hair popping up from over the top of the couch, see you yawn and stretch your arms, and then chrip out a “Good Morning” as soon as your done. He’s over here muttering out some ragged, ”M’rning,” And he can not? He can not fathom or process for the life of him how you do that. Every time. Every Morning. And he’s still over here muttering like some poor cat scratched up his vocal cords!

3. After the first couple of decades he learned you’re an amazing singer. Remember how you couldn’t do accents back earlier, well who cares if Y/N can whip out some gorgeous songs in different languages. Douxie can not quite remember which ones you’ve done as of yet, but he loves it when you tell him, “it’s a love song I’m working on,” for some classical concert or other nerdy choral things and just busts out part of the melody for him in the other language. He is absolutely dazzled and, oh mordraxs miracles did he forget you’re an excellent performer the expressions you’re able to create with the music is unbelievable. And sometimes when he’s watched you practicing he swears you could be in love with him or that wall the way you make goo-goo eyes at it. 4. Singing! Douxie absolutely loves trying to harmonize and sing with you! He thinks it’s incredibly romantic all at once! Little does he know you do too; nothing not to swoon about a rugged british wizard turned rockstar singing with you. Of course, Douxie is also delighted to accompany you on some songs too with his guitar or lute. You and Him both LOVE (and hate) the challenge you two set up for yourselves. Trying to write in specific different counterpoint styles and forms from begone eras past that the two of you lived through. Or, desperatly trying to write down that folk tune both of you can only half remember. . . Oh, well better grab some coffee from the kitchen, it’s gonna be a long night of figuring that out!

5. Several times in recent years and especially months (it certainly does help that the two of you are both living in Arcadia now as it’s become a much more frequent escapad) Douxie had found himself coming over to your place or you coming over to his, coincidentally, when he’s dead beat over his shifts and monster hunting duties. Now, sleeping on regular hours or a quality amount of time has never been Douxie’s forte. Those eye bags he totes are not nearly exaggerated enough in Archies eyes. But when Hisirdoux first started nodding off on the couch in your living room over a afternoon get together of tea and heard your voice gingerly singing to him. . . Oh boy did that change things. He couldn’t remember having a better nap then falling asleep to you throwing a old blanket over him and taking the warm mug out of his hands for safety. And Hisirdoux swears by Merlins Beard everytime it happens he can feeling the sensation of someone gently brushing his bangs and carding their fingers through his hair. Whatever hesitancy there is about it on your part, why-well, he will not bring it up if you’re being shy. Whatever it is, Douxie cannot help but feel his heart thump softly and his eyes slide close, as he just can’t do nothing but help falling asleep.

6. There is nothing more exciting to Douxie than being onstage, but one of the few things that amps him up onstage and off is the sound of your voice yelling out his name. Whether that be when he’s onstage and you’re yelling out his name, cheering him on from the crowd. Or when you’re both out doing Wizard-y things, such as monster hunting, and you shout out his name like a screech in the middle of a noon day. Nothing quite gets his adrenaline running quite like you calling out his name.

7. Finally, and most recently Hisirdoux has found it incredibly tender and heartbreaking all at once the way he will hear you sometimes start humming this- now familiar- tune. Him and Archie can pick up on it whenever the 3 are you are in a particularly dangerous or tense situation. But, Douxie has also heard you humming this tune with a blank and dejected face. . . He will forever remember you coming in just after closing hours, sitting beside him on one of the sofas in the bookstore humming that tune (by mordraxs mircales this is a familiar tune! Why fuzzbuckets! That’s why! She’s crying!) as fat glossy tears welled in your eyes. . . There’s hoping that he knows this tune- he’s heard you sing one too many times- before well enough as he starts humming it and singing it with you. Shoulders touching as he’s already reaching for the tissue box and gently placing in on the spot of the couch just between you guys. Hand rubbing circles on your knees as he taps out that beat to the song- it’s an incredibly old one thats been revamped for some television show in recent years, but he can still remember the original style and beat that went with it when it was still new. Who ever knew this would be your comfort song; it’s got an incredibly silly gossip story weaved in it for the lyrics, but he can’t help but crack a smile when you give a wet laugh when you both start singing them out loud together.

. . . your voice.

#Douxie x reader #Toa #hisirdoux casperan #manymanymanymanymany is that enough many’s? Many many years #yea there it is

[cindyyberman]

helpless. | tom holland

synopsis ── they go back further than he remembers, and she wants to move forward more than he knows. another thing he doesn't know? how when he looks at her she's helpless. ♡

── commoner!tom holland x princess!reader

genre ── fluff ; alternate universe (royal au)

word count ── 1.7k

note ── i've had this in my drafts for months, finally finished it off. i’m obsessed with royal aus, especially commoner x royals, also this is based off of helpless from hamilton, because i feel like the princess had a real eliza-esque vibe about her.

♡ marvel masterlist ; misc masterlist ; prompts ; character list ; request rules

warnings ── very minor injury, dated views on gender roles

She was radiant. Her dark curls cascaded down her shoulders, reaching the waistline of her lavender-colored gown.

Tom liked parties. The occasional ball was more than fine with him. But during the summer, the royal family held one every week. The entire kingdom was invited, regardless of age, gender, race, or sexual orientation, With the new king came a new age. An age of acceptance.

King Robert’s father, William, was a less-than kind man, as were all the men of the royal bloodline before him. Tom had never heard any of the noblewomen speal to the public before, as it had been forbidden until the new king was crowned, but he could only assume they were the same.

Balls used to be a rather sordid affair before King Robert had been crowned, or at least that’s what Tom had heard. Single women were only permitted to dance with men that invited them to. Men, both single and taken, were allowed to dance with whomever they chose. Taken women were to hang off their husband’s arms until he grew bored of them. If they even attended to begin with.

And of course they were invitation only. The only people who ever received invitations were nobles. Now, as Tom looked around, he saw people he knew from the village. They, like him, were all wearing borrowed formalwear from the palace.

Two young children that Tom knew as the children of Emmaline, the florist, ran past him, giggling to themselves. They managed to weave through the crowd, but crashed into a young woman, causing her to stumble back, tripping on the skirt of her silver gown.

“I’m so sorry, miss!” Charlotte, the youngest of the two, stammered as she and her brother helped her to her feet.

“Please,” the woman said kindly. “No need to worry, I’m not hurt. Are either of you?” When both children shook their heads, she sent them on their way.

Tom surveyed the scene before making his way to her. “Are you alright? That was quite a fall,”

She laughed softly. “Truth be told, not particularly. My ankle is rather sore,” she lifted her skirt to reveal it was really red and slightly swollen. 

“That’s a shame,” Tom said sincerely. “I was going to ask you to dance. But you should probably sit down,”

She nodded, assuming that would be the end of their interaction, so she started when he spoke up again. “May I suggest the balcony? There’s a beautiful view, and I could get you a drink? And, perhaps some ice for your ankle?” he offered his arm. 

After a moment, she took it, threading her arm through his. “Thank you, Mr Holland. Or, should I say Sir Thomas, my knight in shining armor,” She teased.

Everyone knew each other down in the village, but Tom didn’t know this woman. So the fact she obviously knew him was news.

“I’m sorry, I don’t seem to-” his polite response was cut off by another one of her soft giggles. It seemed everything about this woman was soft, from her laughter, to her hair, even her skin, if the arm she’d laced through his was any indication. 

“I didn’t expect you to,” she said honestly. She told Tom her name, and only then he realised he had seen her before. 

“You come to the village a lot,” he noticed. “But you don’t live there,”

“No,” she agreed as they reached the table overlooking the garden. Tom was right, the view was gorgeous. And one she knew well. He was about to ask where it was that she did live, if not the village, but was interrupted by someone calling her name.

It was her, the woman that had captured everyone’s attention as soon as they arrived. The woman in the lavender dress was coming towards them. “There you are,” she said when she reached the two of them. “You promised me a dance.”

Tom was about to mention her ankle when she stood up, smiling at him before he could. “I did, didn’t I?” She turned to him. “I’ll only be a moment. How about that drink you promised me while I dance with my sister?”

With that, the two women walked off, arm in arm. And it was only then Tom noticed the tiara  on top of her sister’s head.

The girl in lavender was Princess Anatasia. Making the other woman her sister. When she returned, Tom had two drinks and a handful of ice wrapped in his handkerchief. Sighing, she sipped gratefully as she sat down. “I didn’t know King Robert had three daughters?”

She placed her drink down, applying the ice to her now even more swollen ankle. “There you go,” she said, like it was the least interesting thing in the world. “Now you do,” Tom stared at her, urging an explanation. He caught her eye and she sighed once more. “Well, everyone knows Ana,” she looked over to where the oldest of the three, Anastasia, was dancing. “And Mathilda can’t bear to be out of the spotlight,” she gestured to a woman in a red frock was speaking to a group of nobles, a golden tiara perched on her head. “So there was no real need to try and grab everyone’s attention. So my father simply let me do as I please. Royal life isn’t for everyone. And I don’t think it’s for me. Which is a shame, because I love my family, and I love the people of this kingdom. I’m just not cut out to be their leader.” She took another drink. “Neither is Tilly, if I’m honest.” She admitted. “It’s all good and well for her, but once Ana’s reign is over there’ll be no one to fall back on.”

“Aren’t you the youngest?” Tom asked, “So you don’t have to worry.”

She shook her head. “Tilly’s the youngest,” she explained. “I’m the ever forgotten middle child.” she joked. “I like to stay away from the royal world, but not the rest of the world. So yeah, my parents let me go down to the village. I went to school, albeit a private school, but anything’s better than private tutoring Ana and Tilly told me they got. So yeah, now you know my life story,” she trailed off, embarrassed. “I’m sorry. You didn’t need to know all that. I’ve probably gone and scared you off, haven’t I?” She rested her head on her free hand, elbow on the table. “I’m sorry,”

“No, no, no,” Tom rushed, placing a hand on the table beside hers. “I don’t mind, really. You must not have a lot of people to talk to about this.”

“No, I don’t,” she confessed. “But still, you’re just Tom, the cute baker boy from the village, and you’re probably just taking pity on me for that time at the fair, and you just feel sorry for me, which you don’t have to be-”

“Wait,” he stopped her. “What time?”

She looked up at him, tears in her eyes. “You know, the fair last year? With the cupcakes?”

Suddenly, Tom did remember. It was a night he hadn’t thought of in a while.

He had been helping his mother all week. His father had been swamped with work at the mechanic’s, so it was just him and his mum. He’d been spending so much time with him mum in the bakery, he felt like he hadn’t done anything else in ages. So when the pretty girl he’d seen around the village asked if he wanted to go to the fair with him, his brain short-circuited. “Cupcakes.”

She frowned. “Cupcakes?”

The last thing Tom wanted was to embarrass himself on a date with a pretty girl. “My mum needs more cupcakes,”

She glanced over at the huge amount of cupcakes in the cabinet beside them. “But you have all these?”

He slapped the nearest tray, sending the cupcakes flying. Deep blue and gold icing, the kingdom’s colors, sprayed the floor and walls. “No, I don’t!” He was panicking. He couldn’t think properly. She was gorgeous, and he was just Tom. He was running on such a little amount of sleep that he couldn’t comprehend the idea that she liked him. “I need more!”

“Oh,” she faltered. “Okay, uh, sorry.” She rushed out, Tom swearing under his breath as she left.

As Tom looked at the princess in front of him, he thought about that day, the one he’d been suppressing. The day he let a beautiful woman think he was an absolute moron, and yet, here she was, thinking she’d made a fool of herself.

“I panicked,” he explained hurriedly. “That day with the cupcakes. Not because I didn’t want to go out with you, but because I desperately wanted to go out with you. I got scared. I think…” he bit his lip before downing the rest of his drink. “I think I’d rather you think I wasn’t interested than be disappointed by me,”

“Why would I be disappointed with you?” The boy in front of her was everything she’d ever wanted. Kind, passionate, charming. She couldn’t fathom the idea of loving someone else.

“Because I was just the son of a baker and a mechanic and you… You were the girl in the village that every guy turned to look at as you walked past. You were so beautiful and the way you carried yourself made you seem… angelic,” he struggled to find the word, but from the way she flushed, he thought he must have done okay.

“I’d never,” she placed her hand on his for emphasis. “Never. Be disappointed with you,”

Before he could respond, someone cleared their throat. It was the king, Tom scrambling to move away from his daughter. He fumbled, bowing deeply. “Your majesty,”

Robert chuckled before turning to his daughter. “Party’s winding down, sweetheart,”

He was right. There were only a few people left inside. Anastasia was there, chatting avidly with Emmaline, the town florist, adoration written all over her face. Mathilda was huddled over with a guy in the corner, some nobleman Tom didn’t recognise. 

“Sir, your majesty, I-”

The king shushed him. “Why don’t you stay a while, Mr. Holland? You can stay in one of the guest rooms,” he glanced pointedly at his daughter, who rolled her eyes playfully, “and join us for breakfast?”

Tom glanced over, the girl across from him urging him silently. Her eyes, filled with tears only a while ago, were now filled with hope. She wanted him there. So he smiled up at the king. “I would love that, your majesty,”

#tom holland royal au #royal au #hamilton #helpless #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland princess #princess x commoner #tom holland

[morkleemelon]

pairing: mark x reader, best friend! haechan x reader, gender neutral

genre: college! au, angst, based on the song ‘drivers license’ by olivia rodrigo

warnings: language, heartbreak, allusions to a broken past, mention of parental issues, college party with alcohol

word count: 5021

song recs: drivers license - olivia rodrigo, heather - conan gray, happier - ed sheeran, a soulmate who wasn’t meant to be - jess benko, someone you loved - lewis capaldi

I got my driver's license last week

Just like we always talked about

'Cause you were so excited for me

To finally drive up to your house

But today I drove through the suburbs

Crying 'cause you weren't around

The apartment door shut behind you with a soft click as you return after a long day of classes. Feeling around the wall in the dark, you switch on the overhead light, the murmur of electricity giving its greetings.

Your living space is underwhelming: you’ve allowed yourself minimal furniture to save on funds and what little you do have is unfortunately not tidied well.

Unopened mail scatters across your plaster countertop. One in particular seems out of place amongst the dull grays and whites of the others, the bright smile of a supposed student greeting you with a cartoonish “congrats! you passed your driving test!”. 

It all seems pointless now.

Your body aches as you set down your backpack and strip off your outer layers. It’s mid-spring in Seoul, so daily downpours of rain is a given.

Tossing your raincoat carelessly over a nearby chair, you don’t mind as the raindrops patter onto the wood panel floor as you make your way to the living room couch. The worn out leather used to be comfortable, but now it scratches at your skin with the memories you had attached to it.

You remember when he used to be here with you. You’d laughed together, cried together, talked together until the moon went to rest and the sun took its place in the sky. Everything was brighter then when he loved you.

Mark had chased after you first. He’d taken to you almost immediately after you’d met; he was walking downtown with his friends and when he wasn’t careful where he was going, backing into you and causing you to spill your tea all over yourself. He was flustered, running into the nearby café to get you napkins to clean yourself off. You said it was okay, but he insisted he give you his number so he could pay to get your shirt cleaned or buy you a new one.

Pulling a blanket throw over your legs, you switch on the tv to drown out the quiet. Your eyes fix on the old soap opera, but you aren’t really paying attention. The roaring laugh track falls dead to your ears as you pull the blanket closer over yourself. The space next to you feels so empty.

Mark was never subtle about liking you. After that first time you met, he made it his mission to make you his. You weren’t sure about it because he was part of the popular crowd and you weren’t one to date around. Not to mention, being pursued so earnestly was a new experience for you, one that seemed too good to be true. The first time he asked you out, you rejected him. You thought he would give up then, realize you were nothing special and you would go back to your sheltered life. That was what you grew to expect from others.

But unhindered, he persisted. Much to your astonishment, he snaked his way into your everyday life, chipping away at your walls piece by piece. When it rained, he had an umbrella waiting. When you cried, he had the tissues ready. Piece by piece, you let him see inside. You could never forget the moment when he finally succeeded and your resolve came crumbling down.

He was sitting right there, on the cushion not one arm’s length away from where you sit now. Mark was never shy about telling you that you were beautiful, that you were special, but this time he prepared a special weapon to win you over.

Mark sat there strumming his acoustic guitar, the one his big brother gave him for christmas, as he so excitedly boasted to you. 

“This is a song I wrote about you,” he said, peering into your eyes. His voice was soft and he seemed shy for the first time. Fingers dancing on the strings, he was genuine and vulnerable in front of you. “Forever,” he sang and ‘forever’ you believed.

So you let yourself love him back. 

You kissed him first, to his surprise. You mustered all the courage you had and you leaned over his instrument to cup his warm cheek, pressing your lips quickly to the corner of his mouth. Maybe it was short and you had missed a little, but your heart raced with anticipation. “How would he react?” you had worried to yourself afterwards. You had your doubts, that is, until he kissed you back. 

Mark’s hands were laced through your hair as he brought you in again, this time deeper than the first. Moving his guitar onto the floor beside you, he pulled you into his lap and you kissed him back with all the love you had. It felt so natural, moving your lips against his and feeling his breath fan across your wet skin as he kissed a line down your neck.

You could still feel it, only now it burns.

He asked you to be his and you breathed a “yes” back. He kissed away your insecurities, insisting they made you all the more special. Piece by piece, then all at once, you gave yourself to him. 

Days turned to weeks then months, you came back to your apartment together, kissing, loving, he always went out of his way for you. “This is it,” you thought, “he’s the one”. 

You talked about him with your friends all the time, gushing about how good he was to you. Mark integrated into your friend group with ease and he got along especially well with your best friend, Haechan. When he met your mom, she wouldn’t stop praising how well mannered Mark was. In every way, he was perfect for you. And in every way, you believed he would be forever.

One of the things Mark always teased you about was your lack of a license. Most students your age had one now that you were in university, but you had yet to take the test out of fear. Mark let you drive his car around the parking lot and the two of you laughed at your jolting stops every time you hit a curb. You said you were scared, but he held your hand and told you it was okay. With his help, you drove the small white car around in circles until the fear went away.

You promised him that once you got your license, the first place you would go was his house since he always had to drive to yours. Mark’s face lit up in such a way that could only be pure joy and you kissed the night away. He said he couldn’t wait.

But, you guess, now he can.

And you're probably with that blonde girl

Who always made me doubt

She's so much older than me

She's everything I'm insecure about

Yeah, today I drove through the suburbs

'Cause how could I ever love someone else?

It was only so long before you came across your first problems. Part of it was your fault; you were foolish enough to believe that you would always be the most important one in his life. You’d grown so used to Mark’s special treatment and constant reassurance that when he treated you any different, you got so scared.

It was a saturday night and he wanted to bring you out to a party. You begged him to stay inside like you always did, just the two of you, but you could tell he really wanted to go. 

“Can’t you go without me?,” you asked, lying next to him in your bed.

“I wanna show you off,” he whined back, pulling you into a suffocating hug.

“Ah, fine!,” you squealed, your chin wedged in the nape of his neck as he squeezed you tight. He pressed a dozen kisses all over you then.

“It’s not a big deal,” you thought, “this is the least I can do for him”.

When you showed up to the party, you stuck right by his side. You had never been to one before, the alcohol and drugs making you uncomfortable. The trap music blared loudly as sweaty, intoxicated students grinded on each other shamelessly. Unfamiliar men looked at you with hooded, lustful eyes and you pulled at the hem of your short dress in discomfort. Mark hardly regarded you except for a hand at your waist and chatted freely with his friends that you didn’t know.

You felt out of place. Even without drinking anything, it wasn’t long before the heat of the frat house made your head spin and you tugged at Mark’s arm to get his attention.

“Baby, I want to leave,” you pleaded.

“What? But we haven’t been here for even an hour, ___”. Mark looked so disappointed as you interrupted his drinking game.

“I’m sorry, Mark, I really don’t want to be here,” you insisted, hoping he would once again leave everything and come to you. 

For the first time, he hesitated. And for the first time, you saw her.

“Mark!,” an unfamiliar voice shouted over the cacophony. A blonde girl headed over to you. She was tall, clearly older by the way she carried herself. Her skin glistened with sweat from the party, but it didn’t take away from her gorgeous features. Even as her makeup ran slightly, you took in her looks with a pang of envy.

“Oh, hey!,” Mark greeted, his hand leaving your waist to pull her into a hug. Your heart tugged with jealousy. The way she looked at him and the way he didn’t even seem to see you as he chatted with her made you sick to your stomach. You felt like you couldn’t breathe.

Turning around, you weaved your way through the crowd towards the exit. The cold night air greeted you as you opened the front door to leave. You shivered at the difference in temperature as you made your way quickly down the driveway. It felt so wrong to be walking away from Mark, but the emotions crowding your head made you take one step after the other.

All the rest of you begged for him to stop you, to run after you and reassure you like he always did. So when you felt his hand grip your elbow, spinning you around, tears streamed down your face in relief. 

“I’m sorry, ___,” he apologized, hugging you close. It was so warm. “I’m sorry”.

And you forgave him so easily.

And I know we weren't perfect but I've never felt this way for no one

And I just can't imagine how you could be so okay now that I'm gone

Guess you didn't mean what you wrote in that song about me

'Cause you said forever now I drive alone past your street

But that fight was the first of many. Each worse than the last - it started with bickering about little things like being late for dates or accidentally missing calls. Much to your greatest fear, Mark became noticeably slower to respond to your messages and always seemed to cancel your plans together, if you even made them anymore. Slowly, you found yourself sitting alone in your house more, waiting for him. 

Still, you believed in him naively. Every couple fights, right? And he promised you forever. Just like every other time, he would come back to you and all would be well. You loved him like you’ve never loved anyone, even more than yourself.

But what you didn’t know was that you were pressing on the gas while Mark was slamming the brakes - your relationship became dysfunctional and before you could admit it, you were the only one hanging on.

 You pressed too hard and everything exploded.

“We’re just friends, I don’t know what’s not clicking!,” Mark huffed angrily as he paced around your apartment kitchen. 

“I’m not saying anything, all I mean is that I wish you’d told me that you were driving her home,” you reply, raising your voice slightly.

“You don’t own me, ___, I don’t have to tell you everything! What about you and Haechan, huh? You’re always hanging out with him and I never say anything!”. His voice was almost a shout, nothing like the loving tone he always used with you. He started packing up his things.

“Chan is my best friend, you know that,” you answer, voice breaking slightly as tears began to form. 

Mark zipped up his bag, pausing to look up at you. His gaze was stiff, but it softened slightly at the sight of you. You could tell he was thinking about his next move. You thought it would be just like every other argument you had - he would pull you into his chest and the rhythmic beat of his heart would tell you he forgave you. After all, you had his promise of ‘forever’. 

But this time, he turned away. He sauntered towards the door and with his hand on the handle, he fired his words like arrows to your heart.

“I think we need a break”

And just like that he left, the door clicking softly behind him.

One second, two, three.

You waited with your breath hitched in your throat for him to come back. 

Four, five, six. 

Tears dangled from the tip of your chin before splattering against the wooden floorboards as you listened for his footsteps to approach again.

They never did.

And all my friends are tired

Of hearing how much I miss you but

I kinda feel sorry for them

'Cause they'll never know you the way that I do

Yeah, today I drove through the suburbs

And pictured I was driving home to you

That night left you utterly broken. You stood there in shock until the gravity of your pain brought you crashing down. Crying and crying more, you waited still for him to come back. Mark broke down your walls only to leave you defenseless - sheltering yourself was a good defense mechanism, one that was supposed to prevent you from being hurt like your dad did your mom. 

In every way, you blamed yourself. You were never good enough for him and you never did nearly as much for him as he did you. A piece of work, that’s what you were. You didn’t deserve him and now he finally realized it.

You had cried all week, barely leaving your room to eat and go to class. You debated calling in sick, but even that cost energy you didn’t have. Checking your phone religiously, the pressure in your chest grew greater each time you saw he didn’t text or call.

Your last two messages were left unread: you’d asked him to call you to talk and you said you were sorry for doubting him.

Calling your friends was the only relief that came to you, but you felt bad for always bothering them. They didn’t have the words to comfort you. Well, there wasn’t anything they could say to comfort you. 

But the final blow was yet to come. 

Your phone buzzed with a message and your hand instinctively rushed to check it. 

A message from Mark?

Your heart dropped when you saw it was only a calendar reminder.

“Driver’s License Test Today!”

You squeezed your eyes shut then as the memories of the times you spent practicing with Mark flooded back unwillingly. Shifting around in your cold bed, you wrapped yourself closer into the mess of sheets. He praised you as you got better, setting up the appointment himself.

“You can do it, babe,” he smiled at you widely from the passenger seat, “Once you get your license you can come over to my house all by yourself”. He leaned in close and you instinctively tilted your neck towards him to meet his lips. Kissing the sensetive spot where your jaw meets your ear, you let out a soft sigh of content. “And we can have so much fun”.

Struggling to ignore the stinging pain of the recollection, it took everything in you to muster the energy to go. Something in you still believed that maybe he would come back. Maybe he just needed time to think and he still meant forever. Maybe he was hurting just like you.

So you go to the dmv and you drive just like you practiced with Mark’s old white car, only this time with your own rental. The proctor ticked away at the boxes as you cruised around the familiar suburban streets. You’re glad he didn’t mention your puffy under eyes and slept-in hair.

“Alright, kiddo” the proctor finished signing the checklist as you pulled back into the original parking lot, “congrats! You passed!”.

You smiled and thanked him, but you didn’t feel happy. After the proctor hopped out of your car, you checked your phone to see you had a missed message. Heart racing, you unlock it quickly, hands shaking while you typed in your passcode. It had started to drizzle outside.

“___, I’ve been thinking a lot and I think it’s best if we broke up. I just don’t love you anymore. I’m sorry”. 

You dropped your phone.

Minutes must have passed before you could move a muscle. Rain pattered gray against your windshield and you watched as the droplets ran down and disappeared into the wipers. You felt like you couldn’t breathe.

Your body on autopilot, you start the car, the old engine skipping a few times before running smoothly. Hardly thinking, you cruised through the suburban neighborhoods outside of Seoul, not sure of where you were going, but needing to go somewhere. 

“Mark,” you say to no one, “Mark”. The second one was barely a whisper. You repeated his name to yourself as the rain bore down harder, tears falling down onto your lap. Curling your fingers tighter around the steering wheel, you sped down to the only place you knew to go.

“What the hell,” the boy at the door stated, staring bewildered at your soaking form. You sobbed, raindrops mixing with your tears so it was unclear which was which. Lighting cracked in the dark sky, followed by the inevitable rumble of thunder. Your car was pulled over the side of the road and you stood shivering pitifully in front of your best friend. 

Haechan took you inside, offering you a towel and dry clothes while you said nothing, not trusting your voice to handle words. Of course, the two of you were close enough to understand this and he offered you silence back. 

You cried into his lap as he patted you on the arm. The fireplace crackled in the background, but you still felt so cold. 

“He broke up with me,” you hiccupped out finally, grabbing onto his hands for dear life. You hadn’t voiced it out loud yet and the words left your throat like knives.

“That son of a bitch,” Haechan cursed, letting you grip onto him, not saying anything about the pain. 

“I-I,” your body shook as you hiccupped uncontrollably. He shushed you, stroking your hair with his other hand to calm you down.

You took deep breaths, closing your eyes to try to pacify your trembling sobs and make the pain go away.

“It hurts,” you finally managed, “It hurts so bad”. 

Haechan squeezed your hand in acknowledgement, not knowing what to say. Just like that, he held you for hours until his legs went numb and your small gasps calmed into steady breathing. Still, he didn’t move.

“One day,” he softly broke the silence, brushing invisible circles on the back of your hand, “it’ll all pass. You might think he���s everything right now, but if he wasn’t ready to love all of you, he doesn’t deserve you”. 

And it was after letting those words sink in that you slowly began to notice the warmth of the fireplace. 

Red lights

Stop signs

I still see your face

In the white cars

Front yards

Can't drive past the places

We used to

Go to

'Cause I still fucking love you, babe

You drifted asleep on his lap then, peacefully. When you awoke, your best friend was no longer in your embrace and you blinked to remember where you were. For a second, just a small second, you forgot about what happened the day before. 

Shifting up to a sitting position, you stretched your sore neck and looked around to Haechan in the kitchen. A sizzling noise accompanied by the alluring smell of bacon wafted over. Your stomach grumbled - it had been a few days since you’d had the appetite to eat something. 

You made your way to the familiar kitchen, one you had spent many days hanging out in. Haechan tilted his head towards the sound of your approaching footsteps.

“You’re awake?”

You nodded in response. He wore a floral apron as he cooked, his hair still messy from sleep. For the first time in a while, you smiled.

After breakfast, he let you drive to school.

“I didn’t know you got your license,” the boy remarked as he buckled in.

“I did. Just yesterday”. Your voice was still slightly hoarse from crying. With your best attempts in Haechan’s bathroom, you washed the tears from your face. You hoped you could pretend you were okay.

But as you drove along, you passed the house that you had so temporarily forgotten about. The white car parked outside of Mark’s home pierced your chest with dull pain as you remembered the promises you made together. 

“That’s cool. Did you finish the bio project?,” Haechan made his best attempt at capturing your attention, understanding what was going through your head. 

You couldn’t reply.

Sidewalks

We crossed

I still hear your voice

In the traffic

We're laughing

Over all the noise

God, I'm so blue

Know we're through

But I still fucking love you, babe

The rest of the ride was silent as you struggled to keep it together. You thought about how Mark used to kiss you whenever there was a red light, leaning across the dash to tell you he loved you. You used to laugh at the ticklish feeling of his fingers feeling around your jaw to get a better angle to your lips, squealing at him to go when the light changed green.

You felt numb as you sat in your morning bio lecture, heeding no attention to your professor’s voice. Haechan sat next to you, observing your pained expression with concern. 

“___, you okay?”

The question only makes you feel worse and you lean your chin weakly against his shoulder. You let out a small whimper, lips trembling as you hid your face in his neck. Grabbing your hand, he led you out of the dark lecture hall. You didn’t have the energy to ask where you were going as he pulled you out of the university science building. 

“Give me your keys, I’ll drive,” Haechan directed. You obliged. 

Seoul traffic picked up and the two of you sat listening to the radio. 

“You wanna go get coffee?,” your best friend asked. 

You didn’t answer, listening to the melody of the acoustic music playing on the radio. It reminded you of the song Mark wrote about you all those months ago. Haechan accepted your silence as affirmation and he pulled into a quaint café lot. A white car is parked in front of yours and you think you’re seeing things because it looks like Mark’s. Everything seemed to remind you of him.

You didn’t notice that Haechan got out of the car until he held your door open for you. Numbly, you step out, not taking your eyes off the white vehicle. 

It was Mark’s.

Haechan realized the same too late and you were already staring through the café window. There he sat, the person you’ve been dying to see and hear from. Mark sat there and across from him, you recognized the blonde from the party. He left her for you then, but now you couldn’t say the same.

He looked so happy, happier than he was with you in the last months of your relationship, his smile reaching his eyes and his nose scrunching up as he laughed at something she said. Mark’s eyes sparkled as he looked at her. You don’t miss how his hand gripped the edge of the chair behind her back so his arm was almost around her shoulders. 

He looked so okay without you.

Haechan pulled you under the small café umbrella as it started to drizzle. You were turned away from the window, out of sight from Mark, but the image was already burned into the back of your head.

“What am I supposed to do, chan?,” you whimpered, letting your tears soak into the taller boy’s chest as he hugged you close, “I still fucking love him”. 

This time, he didn’t answer as you gripped onto his tee shirt. He didn't have to as you remembered your best friend’s words from the night before: “It’ll all pass”.

“It’ll all pass,” you thought desperately, although you felt like the sidewalk would swallow you whole. “It’ll all pass,” you repeated, this time out loud, the words feeling like cement as you sobbed into your best friend’s shirt. 

It started to rain harder before Haechan spoke, his voice rumbling in his chest against your cheek, “It’ll all be okay one day, I promise”. You held onto these words for dear life.

…

Switching off the television, you shuffle out of the living room to get ready for bed. It’s been a week since then and you still repeat Haechan’s words to yourself every night. They serve as your only consolation to fight against the knowledge that Mark found somebody new. Somebody that isn’t you is making him happy now. Somebody that isn’t you is hearing that they’re special, that they’re beautiful.

Still, you pressed the band-aids to your bullet hole.

“It’ll be okay,” you whisper to yourself as you turn your bedside light off, “It’ll pass one day”. The promises wash around your head until sleep invites you in and finally the dull pain of being awake can be ignored.

The bright light of morning came as a surprise, waking you from your slumber. You shield the golden rays from your eyes with a tired hand, although welcoming the rare sunshine in a month filled with rain. Birds sing their weekend song as you stretch the sleep from your bones. For the first time in a while, your room appeared bright.

Brushing your teeth, you make a peace sign in the mirror at your messy hair. Letting out a single chuckle, you flop your atrocious bun to the other side. For the first time in a while, the ache in your chest doesn’t feel quite as painful. Spitting out your toothpaste foam, you take the time to cleanse your face properly, patting on your favorite moisturizer after.

You brush through the tangles in your hair, looking at your reflection, taking in the first image of yourself trying to heal. It isn’t a lot, but it’s everything.

Strolling to the kitchen, you pour yourself a bowl of cereal. Munching away, you pull open the living room curtains, letting the morning light stream in. There you stand, watching the bumblebees rub against the pink flowers to drink their nectar.

“Cheers,” you whisper, raising your spoon up to the window before bringing it to your lips. Finishing the simple meal, you debate what to do next. 

You look to the couch, wondering if it would be okay to sit and waste your day away with netflix. Just then, you feel a buzz from your back pocket.

“____, you free?” the message reads. It’s from Haechan.

You reply that you are and he asks you to come over to hang out together. Looking to the couch then back to your phone, you head down to the door to grab your keys and your license. Before you leave, you pause, looking at the cluttered letters collecting dust on the countertop. Before the door clicks shut behind you, they’re in the trash and the counter smells of lemon disinfectant.

The weather is so nice. You feel the warmth against your face as you walk down to your car. It’s not the rental anymore because Haechan helped you find a used one that you could afford. It’s bright red, your favorite color, and it doesn’t skip when you start the engine. 

You cruise down the suburban streets with the windows down to feel the fresh breeze play with your hair. It smells like cut grass and petrichor. 

Turning onto the familiar street, you expect your heart to clench at the sight of Mark’s house, but it doesn’t. You press the gas pedal a little harder as you speed past the white car parked in the driveway. Taking a deep breath, you drive past his street. 

Maybe it hurts a little, but you don’t cry anymore. You turn the wheel smoothly as you pull onto a different road, just like the way you always practiced. Maybe it hurts a little, but you’re always thankful for the time you had with him. You turn the radio to your favorite channel, letting your body sway to the relaxing guitar tune. Maybe it hurts a little, but you’ll always love the song he wrote about you. Even if Mark doesn’t mean it anymore, someone new could. 

Following the route you now have memorized, you steer into your best friend’s neighborhood.

Maybe you’re driving alone, but it doesn’t hurt so much. Not when there’s someone waiting for you.

I know we weren't perfect but I've never felt this way for no one

And I just can't imagine how you could be so okay now that I'm gone

Guess you didn't mean what you wrote in that song about me

'Cause you said forever now I drive alone past your street

Yeah, you said forever now I drive alone past your street

©️morkleemelon all rights reserved

#cznnet #neowritingsnet #kdiarynet #neohours #nct fanfic #nct fanfiction #nct imagines #nct imagine #nct dream imagines #nct 127 imagines #nct #mark lee #mark lee x reader #mark lee x y/n #mark lee x you #nct x reader #nct x y/n #haechan #haechan imagines #nct angst #kpop angst #kpop imagines #nct oneshot #mark lee angst #lee haechan #nct haechan #nct smut #kpop smut

[angeli-marco-writes]

∘◦❅◦∘ Elizabeth Debicki - Christmas Morning ∘◦❅◦∘

A/N - Elizabeth is a superior human being and I shan’t hear a word against it. She’s so bloody stunning and pure and everything good. I got this idea a while ago, but it’s taken me a while to write it. What better time to upload a Christmas Morning imagine than on Christmas Eve (in my time zone at least). This is not intended to offend anyone, or to intrude on Elizabeth in any way. I do not know her, nor do I claim to. This is a work of fiction. And I’m sorry if you don’t celebrate Christmas, I’m not trying to force it upon anyone. I also used google translate for most of the Polish.

Warnings - Explicit s*x and lots of it. Cursing, Polish cursing. Just 3.4k words of adult content, really. 18+.

Summary - Christmas morning in a hidden wintry lodge is everything you could’ve dreamed of. Then again, it’d be perfect even without the setting and the heating, because all you want for Christmas is Elizabeth, and that she gives you. Wholly.

DAPPLED SUNLIGHT FILTERS through the gap in the curtains, icy and sharp, defining the angles of her face with acute shadows. God she looks so perfect this way, you never want to wake her. 

Usually Liz is the first one to wake up, so this is a rarity, one you’ll never take for granted. She looks so ethereal, so angelic, so incredibly perfect, it makes you wonder what you’ve ever done to deserve this half covered celestial woman in your bed next to you this morning. Perhaps the retreat is doing its work, and she’s finally starting to sleep well. Life away from all the pressures of Hollywood seems to be suiting her, and you, hence the lodge you booked into at the start of the week and don’t plan on leaving until it’s absolutely pertinent. How she’s managed to sleep half naked, though, with only a sheet slung around her hips is beyond you, and you find yourself smiling at the thought. 

With your eyes, you trace the curves of her bare body from the silhouette of the longest and shapeliest legs you’ve ever seen (that look particularly good wrapped around your waist… or neck) to the dips of her hips where the sheet rests tucked a little beneath her, to the gorgeous valley of her perfect breasts and her nipples, already pebbled from the cold air. You can appreciate her face like this as well, more than you usually could; so still and relaxed like no harm could ever come, like she’s your guardian angel, a facts he’s proven again and again, only for you to snatch her breath away by capturing her slightly plump lips in yours, nudging her button nose with yours, gazing into those stunning baby blue eyes. And her hair, God, the choppy blonde locks that only serve to make her more angelic even when she’s acting like a devil, just like on Halloween. The thought alone gives you chills, riding goosebumps on top of your goosebumps, and sending blood rushing simultaneously to your cheeks and your core.  

She lets out the breathiest little moan, and you can’t help but wonder whether she’s dreaming of you, and if she’s just as wet as you are beneath the covers, creating a damp spot where she’s lying on the crisp white sheet, as crisp as the winter snow outside. Her cheeks begin to colour, and now you just have to avert your eyes or you’ll simply pounce her when she needs her sleep. Presents can wait. 

The view outside the window, though, is simply magnificent. Hundreds of tiny snowflakes fall all around, dancing and twirling until they settle into beds of soft snow or fall onto the broad branches of the fir trees lining the property. The perfect white Christmas, and your first together, even if, with your destination, it was expected. 

Eventually, you pluck up the strength to extricate yourself from the warmth of the bed, only to grasp for the nearest jumper, tugging it on to shield yourself from the worst of the cold. Ice bites at your toes this early on in the day, though it’s swiftly dissipated when your feet hit the soft, cream rug next to the carpet on the log-appearance floor, already warmed through enough to make your toes toasty via underfloor heating.

You ensure to keep your footsteps soft, padding along the floor and treading over any obstacles until you reach the door, and even then only opening it a sliver more than you need to slip through the gap. Yawning, you trek down to the kitchen, pulling the sweater tighter around you. It smells of Liz, of her perfume, and that indescribable smell of roses that is so distinctly her. 

Popping the kettle on, your mind drifts from the sound and last night's activities hail you, willing you to forget that you’re in the kitchen and to just think of the way she kissed you, touched you, fucked you-  The bubbling stops, and you’re grounded once more, but even so you can still feel her touch scorching your skin, burning you with every graze of her fingers over your legs, your stomach, your-

And that's when you nearly drop the mug of boiling tea onto your bare feet. You have to physically shake the sensation from you if you want anything done before heading back up to bed. You make Elizabeth’s tea the way she likes it: white, one sugar, just like her, and wrap the mug cosies around each cup to keep them toasty, even while she’s still asleep. You tiptoe back upstairs, the ghost of her touch sending shivers down your spine, and as you softly kick the door open, cautious to keep your balance so as to not spill tea all over your sprawled self on the floor, you’re surprised to find Liz sitting up n bed, laying on her elbows, her hair slightly more coiffed, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. Your eyes dart to the safe, a bubbling of excitement fizzing in your stomach just to make this morning better.

“Merry Christmas baby,” She coos in that delectable accent of hers. 

“Happy Christmas darling, did I wake you?”

She shakes her head reassuringly, and opens her arms for you. “Though I’d have been much happier if you’d woken me up in a better way than with tea, though I’m ever so grateful.”

You put the mugs down and bend to kiss her lips, tasting only desire in the tender brush. She brings her hand up to wrap around your back, drawing you impossibly closer to her until your whole body is covering hers. She’s wearing that stupid Christmas cardigan you told her not to buy, the terrible clash of red and green and gold being a lot for your eyes to take so early in the morning, but the soft material tickles your back so delightfully, warming you up, so you can’t complain.

“Were you dreaming of me?” You husk in her ear.

“Mmhm, only of you.”

You bring your lips down to her neck, kissing her pressure point ever so gently, only to suck on her skin feverishly enough to leave a hickey and have her moaning already.

“Don’t stop- fuck.”

Your hips begin involuntarily bucking into hers, creating a delicious friction while your mouth works on her weakest spots. For once, neither of you has to worry about leaving marks on the other: free rein to mark each other up in whichever way you choose. In truth, this is your favourite time to just be with Elizabeth, nothing and no one to worry about, especially no paparazzi and no one trying to catch her out. 

Without wasting another second, you bring your lips back to hers, your mouths colliding deliciously. She weaves her hand into your hair, tugging you closer, drawing you closer into her warmth and the taste of her wholly. She’s yours, and this morning you certainly plan on proving that, starting with shucking off her cardigan, followed by your jumper, flinging them both across the room. 

“Someone’s eager.” She giggles, her accent sounding above lush to your ears, especially with that gorgeous morning husky quality. 

“Always.”

You begin to nip at her jaw, she claws at your back, her nails leaving crescent moons in their wake already. Grasping at your hair, she forces you to go lower. Grazing your teeth over her neck, her shoulders, her collarbones, she’s already getting desperate. You can always tell the signs: Her back slightly arching, her hips rolling from side to side and up and around in circles to grasp onto any thread of friction she can, and then there’s those pretty little whimpers she thinks are too quiet for you to hear. You listen closely every time for them, the most darling sounds she makes, they drive you crazy. They also waive your will to tease her, leading to you always giving in. Today is no exception, other than the fact you begin to tease her pebbled nipples with your tongue much faster than you usually would. 

“Laska,” She moans, pushing her breasts further into your mouth, her hand moving up to clasp around the back of your head, beginning to control your movements.

You’d be lying if you didn’t say Liz’s boobs were the sexiest you’ve ever seen in my life, but when she speaks Polish, it really gets you going. In fact, tweaking her other bud between your forefinger and thumb, pulling gently while you leave hickeys all across her one breast. She’s really getting what she asked for, using that breathy, ungodly voice to call you the sweetest names. 

If you had it your way, you’d be making her come using her breasts alone, but Liz has other ideas, pulling you up by your heir until she’s pinning you to the bed, her long, slender arms on either side of your head, trapping you in. She looks so… elegant. 

“Moja cudowna dziewczyna.”

Jesus Christ she’s gonna be the death of you. You look up at her with wide, starry eyes, completely enthralled with every movement she makes, even the slight quirk of her lips, every blink, every breath. She’s trailing her hand down your body, her fingers between your breasts, her palm over your stomach, two lean digits swiping through your slick, having you a mewling quim under her control as soon as the soft pads of her fingers make contact with your core. She teases your entrance a little before gliding in in one swift movement. Your whole body seems to vault up from the bed, wrapping yourself around Elizabeth as an instinct, bringing her lips crashing onto yours while she continues her ministrations. The kiss is sloppy yet oh so sexy, a clash of teeth and tongues with a flame of pure passion. She’s pumping in and out of you, faster, faster, and you can feel your climax approaching. She can tell as well, because she begins to speed up, pressing her thumb down on your clit.

“Say it.” You whine, “Say it, baby.”

She moves her hand faster, her wrist flicking with every movement as she fucks you, deep and hard on her fingers. God the things they can do…

“Wesołych świąt, seksowna.” She purrs, right in your ear.

The most delectable shiver of arousal runs down your spine, electrocuting every nerve ending in your entire body. You’re on fire, and within a second of her strokes continuing, her fingertips curling to get that exact spot she always knows how to reach, you come with a scream of her name, your hands yanking at her hair as she grunts. She flops down onto your body, every inch of your skin touching, and yet she doesn’t stop her movements, every single jolt of her elbow elongating your high beyond what you thought it could. An almost out of body experience, and all you can see is her, all you can feel is her. Everything is just Liz as she kisses you. Hard. Finger-fucking you through to your second orgasm where all you can hear are her coaxing words. You can feel her, too, desperately grinding against your leg. If you had any control over your brain or mouth whatsoever, you’d be teasing her for being so desperate, your eager baby, yearning so much to come that all she can do is ride your thigh; but apparently your mouth can’t do anything but whimper. 

“Pierdolić, królowo.” followed by a faint cry are the clearest thing before you're taken away into your memories. 

The first time you heard that word was the most heavenly moment of your existence. You and Elizabeth had been dating for a small while, keeping it on the down low, never sharing more than a kiss for weeks and weeks. Until one fateful night, after a nice dinner, she finally invited you in and it was not a night to forget. 

Round two, this time you made it to the bed, and seeing her beneath you was a sight and a half. Her pale skin against her dark sheets, a stark and striking contrast, only complimented further by her halo of long curly blonde locks surrounding her head. Her soft pink lips parted, her eyes squeezed shut, one hand clamping onto her pillow to anchor her, the other in your hair. Her back keeps arching off the bed as she approaches her high, crashing back down as soon as you ease off the intensity of your mouth on her core. You’ve edged her again and again even though she’s overstimulated already, sensitive all over. You know that with just one tweak to her nipples or one kiss to her clit, she’ll be coming all over your tongue. Not that you’re complaining. So after laying off for a moment, you get back to work, delving your tongue into her core, savouring every last drop of arousal that drops into your awaiting mouth, your lips pulling at her clit, your hands holding her legs apart to stop them from closing around your head, becoming your necklace. Not that you’d complain about that either…

“Pierdolić!” She screams, her body practically convulsing, crying out that very same word and her name until her throat grows hoarse. 

Only when she’s almost finished do you feel your own high coming on with absolutely no contact at all, merely the friction of the bed sheets against your sensitive breasts and the lasting taste of her juices on your tongue. The vision of her topples you over as well, your orgasm silent, muffled by her pussy, your quiet moans sending vibrations throughout her whole being until she falls lax onto the bed, spent, smiling dizzily. 

Making your way back up her body, peppering kisses everywhere you can reach, you feel yourself leaving a trail of wetness over her legs and pelvis until you come up to straddle her hips, your chest pressing against hers, your lips meeting in a series of lazy kisses. 

“That was pretty sexy,” She murmurs, her voice weak and oh so sensual, “You like it when I speak Polish?”

You just moan softly, unwittingly in response. She chuckles, her fingers running up and down your spine. Ever since, you’ve seen stars with every orgasm when she speaks Polish to you. 

This morning follows a similar pattern. With you both exhausted from your first round, you curl under the duvet, wrapped in one another’s embrace. She’s so gentle this way, nothing like the intimidating 6ft+ woman that's shown in the press, the one who could kill anyone with so much as a glance. Not that she isn't drop dead gorgeous, but she’s… vulnerable. And with you, here, she can finally be free and be herself with no external challenges or judgement. That’s what makes this so special. 

Skin to skin, heart to heart, lips to lips. You’d take this over anything any day. 

“I love you.” You whisper, kissing her shoulder, darting your eyes up to see her beautiful face. The apples of her cheeks are so pronounced when she smiles that signature way, so quintessentially Elizabeth. God she’s so beautiful, and brave, you’re so glad you get to touch her all the time. 

Trailing your fingers over her chest, your hand comes up to rest on her bare breast, uncovered by the duvet. She hums absently, her everlasting touch console for you. 

“This reminds me of The Night Manager,” She says, turning her head on the pillow to face you. 

Your ears prick up; “How come?”

“The cardigan, the snow from when we were in the alps, your hand on my boob like Toms was.” 

She’s wearing that smirk, the one that tells you exactly what she wants. 

“So now I’m just on par with Tom?”

“Mhm, yeah you are, baby.”

Her smirk widens, mischief glittering in her gorgeous eyes. You chuckle to yourself; this is often her way of instigating another round. 

“So I’m just a mediocre white man on a film set with you?” I draw her one nipple between my teeth, my hand massaging the breast it’s already settled on, eliciting a little moan and a vehement nod. God, she’s such a switch. “So you’re telling me that I don’t fuck you better than he can? The fact I have your whole body quaking beneath me in seconds flat when all he got after God knows how many takes was a little twitch?” Again, the same response. “Are you telling me that I’m not the best shag you’ve ever had, darling?”

Silence. You’ve caught her in her own trap, and now, like earlier, she’s just dying to be overpowered. Her torso relaxes a little, her arms falling away, her eyes opening wide, expectant. 

“I’ll fucking prove to you that I’m the best you’ve had and ever will have.” you guarantee pridefully.

Pressing a soft and gentle kiss to her lips, your grip on her body is anything but, lifting her limber body off the bed and on top of you. She’s rendered surprised, unable to fight you, just a lopsided smile proving her consciousness while her hands on your cheeks prove her willingness. That twinkle in her eyes that never goes away is good enough to soften your demeanour for a second while you adjust yourself with the headboard, only to take Liz by surprise again, licking a bold stripe from her opening to her clit, her jaw dropping in a silent ‘O’. Kitten licks to her dripping hole are your next move, the bare minimum of contact, reading her a little, but the look of sheer beauty on her face, completely fucked out while she sits on your face is indescribable. You’re not going to drag this out, you’re gonna go fast and rough and truly make it worth her while. 

“I love the way you taste, baby.” you tell her as sweetly as you can, pressing your tongue into her leaking hole, clenching around nothing. 

She makes a mad grasp for the headboard, wrapping her hands around it, bowing down a little, her breasts in your direct eye line, her nipples hovering just where you want them, pebbled pink peaks perfectly placed on delectably rounded breasts, her soft skin covering every inch, the blemishes just a part of her. 

One hand squeezing her ass, kneading her cheeks between your fingers, the other grazing over her gorgeous breasts, your gazes connect. Her eyes focus on yours, your gaze authoritative, demanding for her to keep looking at you, even when it becomes what seems, in the moment, to be the hardest task of her life, just to keep her mouth open as your tongue delves deep into her, reaching as deep as you can go. Your hand on her bum brings her pussy down even closer to your face. You have full access to roam her core as you please, even more when she begins grinding on your face. 

“Keep going, fuck, baby I need you!”

And if that isn’t the hottest thing you’ve ever heard, you’ll be damned. Her one hand leaves the headboard and comes up to her other breast, pulling and twisting her nipple as she grinds faster, gyrating her hips against your mouth. She’s getting close, so close. 

“I’m gonna-”

She doesn’t get chance to finish her sentence before she’s crying out, pleasure washing over her and breaking out a sweat on her skin, small beads dripping down her forehead and cleavage, all thanks to you bringing her bundle of nerves between your lips and suckling while you played with her ass. No matter how hard she tries, her gaze falters, her eyes squeezing shut as her second climax renders her speechless, breathless, boneless, collapsing onto you. Two hundred times at least you must’ve seen her climax, but this? This morning takes the cake. What a fucking brilliant start to Christmas day. 

You both pop to the loo to clean up before wrapping up in your cosy Christmas jumpers and slipping back into bed with your mugs of tea. The smile still hasn’t left her face, and you hope to God it never will. Legs entangled, arms wrapped around one another. She feels so petite and delicate in your grasp even though she towers over you normally. She’s precious, the most precious thing you’ll ever have, the only Christmas present you need. You just hope she knows this. 

“All I want for Christmas is you, Elizabeth. Now and always.” You say to your girlfriend, your partner. Your fiancé if today goes to plan. 

“I love you so much.” She whispers, her lips on your temple.

“I love you.”

With a surreptitious glance to the safe in the corner of the room, you train your gaze back at Liz, only focussed on you as you cuddle up with her, burrowed under the warmth of the duvet. Yeah, this is a pretty perfect Christmas morning.

#elizabeth debicki #elizabeth debicki smut #elizabeth debicki fluff #elizabeth debicki imagine #elizabeth debicki x reader #jed roper #wlw imagine #wlw smut #christmas smut

[youarejesting]

The Bomb

[Masterlist]

Beta: @juniethebug​ Rating: 16+  Pairing: Namjoon x Reader Genre: Mafia, enemies2lovers.  Trigger Warnings: mentions of Violence, Gore, Torture, Drinking and wetting yourself in public from fear and a full bladder during a gun fight. Character death. Words: 9.4k

Summary: The leader of a mafia should be calm collected and poised. He should live meticulously and know what he needs to do. Namjoon was that man, he had rules that kept his business running smoothly and nothing can get in the way of that. Can it?

[Part 2]

Kim Namjoon, the leader of the biggest mafia in Seoul, lived his life by many rules. His first rule, a man should only cry three times in his life. The first time is when a man loses his mother, the one who raises a man to be who they are worth mourning. 

The second when a man marries the love of his life and he shall weep tears of joy. The third and final time a man is allowed to cry is when he sees his first child born.

Pathetically sobbing against the dirty concrete while getting the life beaten out of you is not one of those three incidences. “I will ask you again, where is the payment I was promised?”

“He gave it to his daughter, used the money he was supposed to pay you, on his daughter; a beautiful emerald necklace. Something about it being her birthday and wanting to gift her with something as pretty as she is.” Yoongi scoffed, spinning the knife around his fingers a habit he had developed to keep his dexterous fingers busy.“Or at least that is what Hobi had to say after tailing the man all day. Just take the necklace from her pretty little neck; she doesn’t have to come with it.”

“The birthday party is tonight, a lavish affair for their daughter, every man, woman, and child from rich backgrounds were invited to the ball held at their Manor.” Jimin sighed, rolling some scotch in his glass.

“Be ready to leave in ten minutes.” Namjoon walked to the door, Jungkook opening it for him. A reminder of rule number fourteen; a powerful man never moves unnecessarily, which includes opening doors and stepping aside from someone.

Pulling on a black on black suit he fastened his Platinum Rolex to his wrist, in his classiest polished pair of dress shoes. Walking towards the front door, he stopped by the front door and Yoongi pulled open the suitcase, graced with the sight of two pistols both with a shiny custom nickel finish with gold filigree on the handle and barrel.

These were gifted to him by Taehyung, a man with an eye for the finest of arts. Just like the weapons he provided he was a beautiful young man with an innocent face. But he was a dangerous man and rule number ten. Never give the man who provides you with your weapons the chance to provide them for anyone else. Of course, naturally, that meant Namjoon hired him in an instant, not willing to let his enemies use his weapons dealer.

The boys were heading to the car; Seokjin was going to drive as he was the most sensible behind the wheel. Each piling in Namjoon looked at his watch and over the five individuals in the car.

“Should I tell Jimin to hurry up?” Taehyung said reaching for his phone, he was in the middle of texting when Namjoon placed his hand on the phone pushing it to his lap. 

“No need we leave without him, he knows the rules-”

“Rule number fifteen, a man is never late,” Jungkook nodded; he lived by Namjoon’s word and his rules. Knew them better than Namjoon did himself, wrote them down, and numbered them as the leader taught him each one.

The car door was shut by Seokjin who situated himself into the driver's seat and pulled away from the house. House may be a bit of an understatement even Namjoon thought so, officially titled the Kim Manor with four stories complete with east and west wings, staff quarters, elaborate gardens, and land. 

It was the picturesque home with lavish rooms headed to the front gates, a motorbike raced past and pulled up. Jimin climbed into the car with the others, grumbling about how the wind destroyed his hair. 

He ran his fingers through his hair trying to return it to its former perfection, once the gates spread open they headed on their way to the party. 

Each stepping out at the foot of the manor, fixing their hair and suits one last time before heading up the steps. “Your invitation, sir?”

Yoongi pulled out a gun and tapped it against the clipboard pushing it down so he could read it. “That's us there unchecked, sorry we are late, traffic is horrible at this time of the day,” the man swallowed thickly. 

“Of course Mr. and Mrs. Le pomme, you don’t look French?”

“It’s Ms. Actually,” Yoongi poked the man's chest with his gun. 

Namjoon turned speaking immaculate French to the young man and patted his shoulder. “Jungkook always learns a language, a man should never miss an opportunity to learn new things.”

Jungkook was writing the new rule down following behind them, Yoongi pushed the gun into his waistband and the group entered the manor. Walking the floor as a small unit they began analyzing the ballroom. 

Jimin had disappeared and Jungkook smiled gesturing to the young woman who was mingling a beautiful emerald necklace delicately nestled against her decolletage. Namjoon looked her over. She was stunning with her smooth skin and gentle curls. 

She was nothing like he expected, Namjoon thought she would have a dark tan and bleach blonde hair, with extensions and the latest trending nails and jewelry and shoes. 

But this woman. This gorgeous woman had pale skin with sun-kissed freckles, her lips were a soft velvety crimson. She wore a simple black dress but somehow managed to still be the most beautiful person in the room. He could gaze at her forever and never get tired.

You smiled feeling proud of your outfit, it was such an elegant and complicated piece, a sweetheart bodice with off the shoulder lace straps it was a thin and long dress that fell to your ankles showing off a pair of thin heels. 

It wasn’t a famous brand designer, no, you made this yourself there were many little fun hidden details. You were speaking with your friends when he approached. 

He was handsome, his profile was strong one you would remember easily he had a small scar on his eyebrow but it added so much character to his image. 

“Ladies,” he greeted the small group with a short bow, his eyes flicking up and meeting yours full of confidence and you gave a small friendly smile back. 

“Shall we dance?” He asked, and you, never to be overdone, agreed. You had never been asked to dance before. Especially not by someone this handsome.

“My name is y/n. You?”

“You may call me Namjoon,” he smiled and you blushed, looking at his dimples, he was so charming and cute. But there was something about him he took the lead and guided you through a slow waltz. Something you couldn’t put a nail on. Something… sinister..?

You gasped clutching his bicep gently. He saw the emerald necklace secure around your delicate neck. Your breasts strained against your dress with every breath. 

“You seem to be out of breath miss y/n?” His fingertips brushing gently across your décolletage. He too was breathing heavily from the physical activity of dancing. 

“A testament to your dance skills,” you tried to laugh back. 

“Perhaps we should get something to drink,” he took your hand and weaved it so your arm wrapped around his, “we can chat while you relax but I do apologize for being too enthusiastic.” 

“No, really, it is okay,” you protested, not wanting to seem too affected honestly it was embarrassing to get tired after one vigorous dance. 

“Indulge me,” Namjoon’s raspy voice reverberated so low you could have almost mistaken it for a purr, “I would very much like to steal a few extra moments with you” 

“Well then, I shan’t protest,” you gestured towards the refreshment table where he handed you a champagne flute. The two of you drank slowly his eyes locked on yours. 

“Sir,” a voice called politely, you were both pulled from your intense eye contact to see Your father flanked by two young and very handsome men. 

“Thank you for inviting me to your party tonight, sir.” Namjoon shook his hand firmly, his voice made you shiver, it wasn’t as light as it had been before, there was something clipped in his tone. Your former suspicions returned to you. Hard.

“Ah, Mr. Kim, I am glad you could make it, I didn’t think you would come to such a small affair?” Your father smiled, he was sweating a sign he was nervous but trying to hold his cool. 

“Dad is everything okay?” You took your father's pocket-handkerchief and dabbed his forehead. 

“Darling I would like for you to get some pictures with your mother. It is your birthday after all,” you looked at him curiously and almost yielded to his request when a firm hand caught your wrist. 

“Just a moment I would like to give you your birthday gift,” Namjoon smiled reaching into his pocket, his next statement seemed to cause the young man beside your father to scribble in a notebook. “A man must never come to a party empty-handed, especially not a birthday party.”

“Oh it’s okay, I don’t usually get presents anyway,” you were flustered by the prospect you always requested not to get presents to spare people the trouble of spending their money on material things. 

“That is a shame a pretty young lady like yourself should be spoiled daily,” a hot flush pinked your skin and it crept up your neck. 

He handed you a box wrapped in a small ribbon. She opened it to reveal an emerald bracelet just like the necklace she wore and he helped secure it to the wrist and smiled. 

“Emerald looks brilliant on you?”

Namjoon looked your father directly in the eyes watching the man sweat. Would he sell out his own daughter for his own safety? “Well darling, mister Kim and I are just going to do a quick spot of business”

“Okay,” you nodded, Namjoon looked over his shoulder and made a gesture to Jungkook and Yoongi to keep an eye on you. While following your weasel-like father to his study.

“I know why you are here and I am sorry, I had the money ready to give you but it was my daughter’s birthday and I couldn’t turn up empty-handed,” Your father said “I will get you the money by the end of the week.”

“You will as I will have collateral just in case your daughter will leave with me.” Namjoon threatened before adding an afterthought “tonight”.

“Please don’t hurt her, I will get you the money, I promise. Please.” He pleaded, dropping onto his knees. Namjoon felt his eye twitch in disgust. 

“You will give me the money, otherwise you will never see your daughter again.” 

You were feeling kind of awkward, the two young men accompanying you weren’t awful company, they just weren’t very talkative. 

“So you work with Namjoon?” you asked 

“Mmm…” one so graciously grunted in response

“What do you do?” you swayed from foot to foot trying to strike up some sort of conversation.

“Mister Kim is an entrepreneur,” The taller man said excitedly. You nodded; he very obviously liked his boss.

“You seem to enjoy working for him then,” You asked happily and the two nodded going back to standing around.

“Ah, you must be the birthday girl?” A sweet voice called your attention, “Wah, You are so beautiful miss y/n?”

“Have we met?” Already knowing you hadn’t met any of these men they were way too handsome for you to just forget. He had long legs accentuated by his high waisted trousers, his feet moved one in front of the other with all the grace and caution like a model in a field of landmines. He scooped your hand into his grasp and kissed your knuckle’s eyes searching your person and the room. “Park Jimin.”

Beside him was a taller young man who was boyish with big rounded ears that added so much youth to his face. “I do not believe we have ma’am and that is a shame” He also kissed your knuckles politely and threw you a grin. “Kim Taehyung at your service.”

“Tell me, miss Y/n. Do you like Painting?” Taehyung asked with a grin and you nodded 

“Though I am not good at it, yes.” You sighed while playing with your lace sleeve, you were currently surrounded by these very tall and intimidating men. “Do you like painting?”

“I enjoy it greatly my dear, would you be interested in painting with me?” He smiled brightly and you grinned feeling more relaxed.

“I would love to,” you grinned and they all got a text to their apple watches that they read and quickly dismissed from view.

“Miss y/n, we would like to hold a toast,” Jimin grinned, handing you a champagne flute. You nodded and Jimin led a toast celebrating your birthday, ending his short speech with. “You have to all drink it in one shot for the best of wishes for the birthday girl” 

You drank heartedly watching them all drink as well, the conversation continued and you were happily chatting about all different things when you started to feel rather drowsy. “I think I drank too much.” You giggled, feeling tired, a warm coat was draped over your shoulders it was super roomy and you felt yourself drift off.

There were strange sounds and lights passing over you periodically, though it stirred you it wasn’t enough to wake you fully. Only when your body had fought the immense fatigue did you wake. 

Everything was stale, the air, the room, life, for a moment you didn’t move. Your body was heavy and your head clouded. Taking a deep breath you sat up the lush blankets in their covers making noise against the soft satin sheet. 

The room wasn’t yours, the furniture was all a dark almost black lacquered wood, the bedding was also all black. It was a dark room with thick heavy curtains. 

Swinging your legs over the side of the bed you gripped the fourposter frame and stood upright nursing a slight ache behind your temples. 

The floor was a white marble, searingly cold against your feet. You looked down at the sweet emerald négligée, your jewellery was placed on the bedside table. 

Where you saw a glass of water, taking the glass you took a few sips quenching your thirst and pushing the bile rising in your throat back down. 

Crossing the room, trying to find a bathroom you opened the first set of double doors and found a walk-in wardrobe. There were many suits inside and a door caught your eye, perhaps it led to the bathroom. 

Opening the door you saw for the first time in your life real guns and weapons on display, wherever you are it mustn’t be safe. You picked up a small handgun like the ones you had seen in movies. 

You moved on to the bathroom, your bladder was urgently requesting relief. 

Opening the next doors you came across a bathroom like no other. It was all the same white marble, the feature was a round shower located in the middle of the room. With two curved sliding doors one on either side of the shower. 

Between curved glass panels were stone pillars one which had been carved into as to create shelves with built-in product dispensers. 

You saw a control panel on the outside of the shower and you wondered where the water came from but looking up at the hanging gold shower head that was almost as wide as the shower. 

You could imagine how it would feel, like warm rain falling against your skin. On your right as you stepped in was a beautiful counter with his and her basins in front of a finely detailed gold framed mirror. 

On the opposite wall to your left were shelves of fresh towels and a few cabinets and a seated area with a lady might do her makeup

Walking around the shower along the walls of towels you saw the toilet the door was made of frosted glass and you at this point didn’t care if you were quick you wouldn’t be seen. 

You flushed and paused waiting for any signs of people coming to get you but you heard nothing. 

You stepped out and circled the shower the back wall had a brilliant window and four short steps to a lifted square seating area with a cushioned window seat that lined the three of the square walls. 

There was a small coffee table in the middle and continuing on the last corner of the room just between the sitting areas and the counter was a square bath fit for perhaps four people. 

“Shit, where is she?” The sound made your pulse skyrocket, you needed to hide. You stood behind one of the big thick pillars on the outside of the shower. Hoping they would glance over the room. 

You froze the gun behind your back and you waited. “Is she in here?” A voice said, “doesn’t look like it,” another said

“Where is she?” A raspy voice spoke. 

“We don’t know, sir, Yoongi was posted outside and swears she didn’t leave so she has to be in here.” 

“Y/n?” He called, “are you okay, you are a guest here I promise.”

You snorted, “that’s funny, I don’t remember being invited.” 

“You don’t remember what happened last night do you?” He asked and you saw movement in the mirror. You grabbed the shower door and opened it stepping inside and pressing your back against a pillar. 

The problem was opening one door opened both, you used your free hand to reach beside you and slowly close the glass door. 

He smirked, grabbing the opposite glass door with his hand, stopping it from closing and pulling the door back open. “You won’t shoot me, baby, you are too gentle, hand it over and we can talk.”

You took a few heavy breaths psyching yourself up before pulling the trigger. Eyes squeezed shut only to hear a click, “shit!”

“You got some guts, I will give you that. I am proud, the weak don’t survive” He grinned, reaching outside the shower to the control panel and grinned “but you didn’t put a magazine in your gun, I could show you how?” 

He pressed a button and cold water poured down, jolting you awake. You tried to avoid the water but you were soaked, he stepped inside and shut the door with his men standing guard either side. 

“When you shoot a gun don’t close your eyes, baby otherwise how will you aim?” His chest pressed against yours and he grinned, taking your hand. “Now let’s get you dressed, and we can have a late breakfast.”

You struggled to pull your hand free, “why am I here?”

“Because your father borrowed five hundred thousand dollars from me and didn’t pay it back in time,” he gently tucked your wet hair behind your ear frowning at how it stuck to your neck, how the small négligée clung to your skin and how your body reacted to the cold. “So I took you as collateral for my money. How very gentlemanly of you.”

He took the gun from your hand and grinned, “you are spirited and I like that, but do not worry my only intentions are my money no harm will come to you, you are actually really interesting I would like to get to know you more.”

“Come let’s have breakfast baby,” he said over his shoulder

You followed him obediently your goal was to play your way out, cooperation until they let their guard down. Stepping out of the Taehyung standing there with a grin, and he held up a bag, “Hoseok and I bought you clothes?”

You nodded while taking the bag pondering a recurring thought, “who changed me last night?”

“I did, love but do not fret, I am a doctor and I assure you I did nothing inappropriate, while you were asleep. I would never, it’s too much work?” the short black-haired man spoke twirling a knife around his fingers. 

“Seriously, I don’t think Yoongi is human, we have taken him to so many brothels and he doesn’t get turned on at all,” you made eye contact with Yoongi who looked away causing you to crease your eyebrows. 

“I respect women and their professions?” Yoongi sighed, and you nodded thoughtfully walking into the bathroom and staring in the mirror. Eventually getting out of the wet garment and into a beautiful sundress. 

Processing your thoughts meticulously. He said you were here until your father paid his debt. He said he wouldn’t harm you. You had many unanswered questions but you felt a little reassured by these factors. You were still scared out of your wits but 

When you stepped out of the bathroom fully dressed you felt much better. The room was empty except Yoongi and you sighed looking at him. “I really didn’t do anything.” 

“I believe you, do not stress,” you patted his shoulder and with a deep breath in, you puffed up your chest, square your shoulders, and strode forward to the door with a firm nod. Yoongi navigated you through the halls behind you trying to keep up but you didn’t slow down. 

“Through to the end room two double doors,” he panted as you lost him down the hall, throwing the doors open, guns were drawn and all your new found confidence dwindled. 

“Ah, my apologies we usually knock.” Namjoon smiled holding his hands out to his men to stand down, “it’s polite.”

“Is kidnapping me polite?” You scoffed stomping towards him. “You said I am here till my father pays his debt and then I am free to leave correct?”

“Yes, that is—”

“So am I a prisoner?”

“You are a guest,” he said.

“So I can leave?”

“No.”

“Do you happen to know the definition of prisoner?”

“I believe you are referring to the noun of a person captured and kept confined by an enemy or criminal” he sighed “listen would you like to see a real prisoner? I can guarantee you are treated better than some of our other guests in this house”

Taken back by his words you looked away and sighed slumping into the empty seat at the other end of the table “who are you really?”

“I am Kim Namjoon, also known as RM,” he looked down the table at you. You were silent while eating, pondering this information biding your time before you could ask some more. 

“Now for business?” Namjoon gestured for his men to start talking. 

“Uh about mister Lee, I have successfully um… spoken?” The word came out as more of a question as Seokjin side-eyed you, “with him and he told me where we can find the um...”

“Hey, whatever it is you can say it, I’m not going to be scared by mere words.” You scoffed, stabbing a piece of cantaloupe. Namjoon nodded, approving Seokjin to talk freely.

“I interrogated him and we found the children he was trafficking returned them to their families,” Seokjin said “He is seriously sick in the head” 

“You are sure he has told you everything?” Namjoon ate his eggs and toast watching them over his cup of coffee. 

“I think so but to make sure I might cut off his remaining fingers and see what he has to say,” Seokjin nodded, “if he says no more well then I guess he is finished.”

“Hoseok what do you know?” Namjoon prompted the next man to speak.

“I know that Mr. y/l/n is accumulating stocks and seems to be on the way to paying his debt,” Hoseok said, your head snapped to him at the mention of your father and he cleared his throat with an awkward twitch of his head. “In other news, there is a young man named David from America is here to discuss a transaction on weapons”

“Anything else?” Namjoon pressed on, studying the man's reactions.

“A few minor gossip aspects from last nights party” you blinked turning to Hoseok who continued, “nothing serious but I will file it away for possible use in the future”

“I took out Mr Roth last night at the party.” Jimin threw the paper down and Namjoon picked it up. “Easily fooled as always.”

“Was there any complications?” Namjoon asked placing the paper down on the table and you walked around picking it up standing beside Namjoon as you read the information on the front page. 

Mob Merrymaking

On the evening of the 13th of July, Y/N was celebrating her 21st Birthday. The night was full of dancing, gifts and esteemed guests. The night which was intended to be a beautiful celebration turned sour when a Local Gang drugged and abducted the young woman. Mr Roth a nobleman of 45 had been found in the bathroom, his death was determined as substance abuse.

Mr. L/n stated “She will be fine wherever she is, she is a smart girl and too pure to get herself hurt” He further implied “...I also have no ill will towards any gangs that would warrant my daughter being taken or our family getting hurt. She is a beautiful woman and I think he must have taken a liking to her which leaves me to believe he won’t hurt her.”

Kim Industries which deals with Construction, real estate, property investments, restaurants bars and even Casinos are implied to be the gang in question. Kim Namjoon, as the owner of Kim Industries, was happy to oblige to the police investigation allowing his home to be thoroughly searched by police for the missing young woman. The residence came up empty of any incriminating evidence.

Where did the young woman go? Who is she with? If you have any information contact the police.

You were told to wait in the house while they all went to meet this American man named David, you refused saying if they left you alone you would either run away or set the place on fire. 

Namjoon grabbed you by the upper arm, “You are a young lady, start acting like one, we have treated you well and you have done nothing but act like a spoilt child.”

You had never been reprimanded so directly and harshly before, you were somewhat sheltered and sensitive to anger. You turned your head away from him as a few tears slipped.

“Sir, would you like me to stay behind with her?” Jungkook asked, watching his leader take out a pocket-handkerchief and take the young woman's chin firmly between his thumb and crooked finger tilting it up.

“She will come along, she must learn the severity of one's actions and the business we dabble in, to know the true weight of her actions,” He sighed, wiping your eyes. “Always carry a handkerchief Jungkook, women cry.”

“Of course! This way Miss,” Jungkook smiled softly, taking out his notebook to write the newest rule as he walked, “Namjoon is never late for a meeting.”

Escorted to the car as they all checked their weapons discussing their plan of attack, the trip took longer than you expected and at least an hour and a half had passed. The large juice you had at breakfast was making itself known. 

“Uh, I have to pee?” You whispered to Yoongi who frowned patting your knee in consolidation. 

“Namjoon doesn’t stop for anyone,” he sighed, “You will have to hold it,”

“What is it?” Namjoon commanded, not liking the whispering you were doing with his doctor.

“Y/n said she has to pee,” Yoongi said, “and I told her she will have to hold it.”

Namjoon nodded unphased “You should have gone before we left. Always pee before leaving the house.”

“I am not a child,” You hissed “I know when I need to pee and when I don’t, I wasn’t told the duration of this trip, to know whether I should go to the bathroom, and if I remember correctly I was ushered to the car before I had a chance to question it.”

“Keep your emotions out of your argument, you really are starting to sound like a child,” Namjoon said turning back to the conversation, there was nothing you could do.

The car pulled up, at a small furniture store, the men walked in lead by Namjoon and you were to stay outside with Yoongi and Seokjin. 

It was supposed to be a peaceful meeting, but you really had to go to the toilet. The two men were leaning on the back of the car, Yoongi smoking slowly and Seokjin complaining that it was bad for his looks to be near smoke. 

“Then fuck off,” Yoongi growled blowing large wisps of smoke purposefully at the other. The two bickered like a father of three and his bratty child. 

You really needed to go, to the point that you were eyeing a couple of bushes and hedges in the area. You, a high-class lady were contemplating urinating in public, that’s how serious this was. 

You looked at the two bickering again, Yoongi smirked, blowing more smoke at Seokjin who started coughing open-mouthed at Yoongi not bothering to cover his mouth. 

“You're nasty!” Yoongi grumbled, you rolled your eyes and snuck into the shop, there had to be an employee bathroom. 

You found a door but when you opened it you were met with men and guns, you immediately froze, all the muscles in your body tensing up.“Darling come here,” Namjoon said, gesturing you over to his side, and slipping you under his arm. “What are you doing here? I told you to wait by the car?”

“I have to pee,” you whimpered.

“Calm your expression,” he held your cheek and brought your eyes to his, “by my side, you don’t need to be scared, no one can hurt you?”

“That’s right darling we are just having a discussion, do you want to wait outside again we don’t want anything to happen to a pretty girl like you?”

You don’t know who said what but shots we fired and Namjoon pushed you across the room behind some big cabinets. When your back hit the tall boy you felt your bladder relax and you looked down warmth spreading down the inseams of your jeans. 

You were shaking in fear as the shots rang around the room, some hitting the furniture near where you hid. But worse than all that you were embarrassed and shocked never in your teen and adult life had you ever wet yourself. 

You stood sobbing, standing in a puddle of your own liquids. You took off your sneakers throwing them aside and you looked at your clothes. 

“Namjoon, we can’t find Miss Y/n?” Seokjin shouted ducking bullets, and brandishing his own gun. The distraction allowed their enemy to escape. 

“She is here you idiots, I asked you to do one job and you couldn’t even do that?” Namjoon said “Jimin, good shooting, David won’t make it home”

“That’s my job,” Jimin said proudly and you had to pluck up the courage to talk to them, but it was easier to hide climbing into a cupboard. 

“Miss Y/n, are you hurt?” Yoongi asked “huh?”

“What is it?” Namjoon said 

“Oh no darling, I am so sorry?” Yoongi’s voice was solemn. 

“If she is dead I am killing you both,” Namjoon growled his boots hitting the cement as he stomped over. 

“Stay there,” Yoongi said with authority, the footsteps stopped “Jimin take off your pants?”

“What why?” Jimin asked confused as to why the conversation shifted to him and his trousers. 

“Just do it?” Yoongi growled snapping his fingers. 

“None of you will step foot over here until I say so, if you do I will happily sedate you all and turn you into eunuchs, and that includes you Namjoon.”

“I am your leader?”

“And I am your elder, go wait outside, all of you?” They all stepped outside and Yoongi sighed walking to the cupboard holding Jimin’s trousers. 

“Come here darling,” he said, taking your hand and guiding you to the bathroom he told you to strip everything off except your bra. you sobbed. “Don’t worry I got more enjoyment out of seeing Jimin undress than redressing you last night, if you understand what I am saying.”

You realized and wiped your eyes, he pushed you to sit on the bench and he washed your legs in the sink and asked you to wash everything else yourself. 

You felt better, he apologized for not having any underwear for you and you slipped on Jimin's pants and fastened the belt. The last thing you would need is to expose everything and Yoongi gave you his undershirt. 

He walked you out and Namjoon looked relieved when he saw you emerge. “Are you okay?”

“No I am horrified, I was in the middle of a shoot out and I quite literally pissed myself,” you shouted. Your eyes stung from the crying you had done, “Never in my coherent life have I disgraced myself like that.”

“I apologize,” he said, holding his shoulder you saw blood seeping through his fingers, you immediately felt bad for yelling and making it about you when he was in pain.

Jimin stood in just his boxer briefs. “I have nothing against the no-pants but can we go home?”

The only rational thing to do after the incident at the furniture store and warehouse was to seclude yourself in your room away from everyone else. Namjoon often visited and brought you your meals talking to you about things with no real substance. Mostly about his loathing of check ups, it seemed he was hiding in your room from Yoongi.

This happened for a number of days until Hoseok got bored, he wanted to gossip with you and Taehyung came along with paints in hand. His excuse was that you had promised him you two could paint together. 

Forcibly removed from your one-person pity party you sat outside painting and chatting about random topics. 

Hoseok wanted to know if you had any suitors and who they were, he asked what type of guy you liked and you hummed. 

“Someone kind and generous who gives back to others” you gushed about your tall dark and handsome and they laughed.

That night Namjoon knocked on your door and requested you come down for dinner, you agreed much to his surprise. He stammered obviously not expecting you to consent to his plan for dinner, he nodded curtly and walked off down the hall. Tripping in his haste on a small lump in the hall carpet and catching himself on the wall.

Wearing a pretty emerald green halter dress the skirts swished as you walked and your modest heels clicked on the timber. You heard hushed talking and slowed down, being so confined the past few days you were almost starved for conversation. 

“He is having dinner tonight, they will all be in the dining hall which will leave his office free, once I get the information I will get out of here before they find out.” The man had a weird moustache and a mole above his eyebrow. 

You tiptoed past holding your skirts from ruffling and keeping your heels from clicking you headed downstairs. 

Pushing open the doors a multitude of guns were pointed at you, “Miss Y/n I was told you were from a moderately high-class family you should know how to knock.”

You raced over to Namjoon and cupped your hand around your mouth leaning down. “I heard someone talking about breaking into your office, to steal information”

“Jimin” Namjoon beckoned him over, he whispered to Jimin who nodded and went out the back door. 

“Where is he going?” You asked and Namjoon stood up and walked you to the other end of the table and you frowned, “I don’t like this?”

“Sit relax, it is time for us to enjoy dinner.”

You sat for the briefest of moments watching Namjoon cross the room and sit at the opposite end of the table before taking your chair and dragging it across the floor slowly. 

You saw his eyebrow twitch as you did so and stopped beside him. “I would prefer not to shout across the table,” you smiled softly

“You are both a blessing and a curse,” Namjoon said, “dinner is now a minute late”

Dinner was unlike anything you had ever had before, you smiled and ate happily, “this is delicious”

“You should try the steak?” Namjoon smiled, you nodded, cutting some of your chicken and stabbed it with a fork. 

“Alright, I will try some of your steak if you try some of this chicken?” You held it out to him and his eyes were wide “it’s a fair trade”

He leaned forward and ate the small piece off your fork and he cut you a piece of steak and held it out to you. 

You leaned forward and took a bite chewing slowly, your eyes going wide. “That is delicious”

Namjoon leaned over wiping your chin with a napkin his thumb, your eyes were locked in a fierce gaze and he gave you a dimpled smile.

“Jin, try some of my chicken?” Taehyung asked, holding out his fork. 

“No, thank you?” Seokjin said, continuing to eat his steak ignoring the pouting young man. 

“But they shared?” He whined. This made you aware of how intimate your action was, your cheeks flushing dark at your forwardness.

After dinner you were being escorted back to your room. Namjoon was quiet the whole time, not for lack of trying. The amount of times you saw him open and close his mouth, as if he was trying to strike up something to say. 

Standing at your door he paused looking at you searching for something, you laughed opening the door, “Would you like to come in for a drink?” 

He seemed grateful for the excuse to stay in your company, after a drink of two you started talking about your most embarrassing stories. He was actually super clumsy for someone in the mafia and a complete goofball.

“And that was my first kiss, I haven’t really had many kisses after that and the few I can remember were just as bad” Your laughter was cut off by Namjoon who had leaned over on the small couch and pressed his lips to yours. Just as you felt your heart flutter he pulled away.

“It is getting late you should sleep” He stood up and placed down the glass, you walked him to the door and he froze. “Was that okay? I hope I didn’t overstep any boundaries, did I?”

“No it was nice really nice, you can do that-” He pressed his lips to yours once more and smiled whispering good night before walking off down the hall. With a sigh you added “Anytime you like.”

You didn’t hear anything strange from anyone or see anyone but you hoped everything worked out and the man who wanted to steal information ran away. 

You were trying to find Namjoon the next day and travelled downstairs looking in random doors. 

You reached the end of the hallway and found a door you heard screaming and knocked hesitantly on the wood, Yoongi stepped out covered in blood and gun in hand. 

“Oh, y/n now isn’t a good time?” Yoongi said, stepping out and shutting the door. “What are you doing down here?”

“I was looking for Namjoon, is everything okay? What are you doing?” You asked, concerned by the amount of blood on Yoongi’s clothes. 

“We are okay, Seokjin and I are just interrogating the mole, hey good spotting by the way no one knew they had snuck in,” your stomach dropped, this blood was from that man and it was all because of you. 

“Namjoon is in his office on the third floor from the ground west wing double doors on the left-right at the end of the corridor.”

You nodded, froze in place and Yoongi sighed “I have to go back in,” he went to pat your shoulder but saw his stained gloves and sighed ripping them off. 

He turned punching in numbers into the code lock. 7276. He slipped inside and you heard screaming, which was silenced immediately as the door sealed shut, you quickly ran feeling sick.

Racing up the stairs and bumping into Jungkook and almost falling, thankfully  he caught you, “hey hey, slow down what’s wrong?”

You were wide-eyed and scared and he frowned. “Did you go downstairs?”

You nodded and he led you down the hall, “you are scared and helpless, but the way to feel better is to get stronger. You won’t feel as scared if you're not so helpless.” Jungkook opened the doors to the gym. 

“Let me teach you how to fight,” Jungkook began teaching the basics and at another point, Jimin entered the two gave you pointers, their fighting styles. Jungkook was all power and strength and Jimin’s was survival. 

“Look all you got to know is how to break free so you can run away,” Jimin instructed. “Even someone like Yoongi can break out of Jungkook's grasp.” 

“That was one time and he refused to give me a rematch,” Jungkook wined. 

You were learning so much, and it was in a sense a little empowering. The two guys were good at what they did and the more you learnt the more you wanted to learn. 

Learning to fight gave you something to take your mind off what you had seen at least for the first two weeks but when you heard them relay information at breakfast you felt sick once more. 

“He refuses to speak,” Seokjin said 

“He will eventually,” Namjoon didn’t bat an eyelash. Two weeks of torture because you outed him. 

This was all your fault. He was suffering because of you. You left the dining hall unable to stomach the thought of food. 

Heading down the stairs you opened the door with the code 7276, you almost vomited, he sat there unrestrained and unconscious. His fingernails were removed and his face broken beyond repair. 

“Hello, sir are you alive?” You asked, he groaned struggling to move his head, coughing up some blood at the effort it took to move. 

“Who are you?”

“I am no one sir,” you breathed, “I can help you.”

He lunged hands gripping your throat and you fell back under the weight of him, you were struggling against him in panic. “Die you bitch, I know who you are, you're that monster's whore. He has never tried to protect anyone in his life and yet his soft spot is you. They are coming to kill you all.”

You struggled less hearing Jimin’s words in your head, “don’t panic” his voice would smooth as he held you in this position. “You want to panic but relax and fight back”

You did what he said, “your legs are your strongest so kick them in the chest” Jungkook would coach from the side, following their instructions you kicked the man off and ducked out the door pulling it closed. 

You were gasping and you ran up the stairs and into the dining hall gasping. Namjoon flew to his seat and scooped you up, sitting you on the side of the table. 

“Yoongi.” He commanded, he gently brushed his fingers over your neck, he looked upset, angry and sad all at once. The emotions were so strong it shocked you. Grabbing his gun, you pressed it into Namjoon's hands. 

“Kill him,” You wheezed, “slowly.”

“You went back down there didn’t you?” Jungkook sighed and before Yoongi could stop him Namjoon cocked the gun and stormed off. Seokjin followed after him and they all watched you trying to help. 

“Your throat will sting for a few days try not to talk it will help it heal,” Yoongi sighed 

“You just don’t want to hear me talk,” you joked, wincing at the pain. “Got it, no talking.”

Namjoon threw the man into the dining hall and dragged him by his hair across the floor, “the lady has requested you die and slowly.” 

Namjoon shot him six times in both legs, one in each foot, calf and thigh, the blood was pooling everywhere. You felt queasy, you wanted this but you weren’t sure you could stomach it. 

“If you can make it back to your people with these wounds I will let you go?” Namjoon put his gun away and the man tried to crawl away, losing strength as he streaked blood across the ground. 

The man was making horrible noises and you didn’t like it, covering your ears and Yoongi warned Namjoon who shot the mole in the back of the head as he reached for the door handle. 

Again the only thing you deemed appropriate after witnessing that sort of horrific event was to seclude yourself in your room. Yoongi visited bringing you soups to soothe your sore throat and his persistence and gentle nature was the only thing that got you to drink some of it.

You laid there alone when it started to rain. You loved the rain, but what surprised you was your new fear of the thunder rumbling in the distance sinister as if it was coming after you. 

You had never been afraid of storms you used to stand out on the patio undercover with your father and watch the lights flash and feel the electricity in the air. But now each flash had shadows in your window and was accompanied by gunshots that shook the ground.

You were a whimpering mess and you wanted to get out, you ran from your room and raced down the stairs and out the front door. You were in the rain running down the long estate driveway and you expected to be followed by Namjoons henchmen and dragged back and punished for what you didn’t expect was for Namjoon to be running after you. 

He grabbed you and pulled you to his chest hugging you gently and he started to sing in your ear, his voice was low and soothing. You found yourself easing into his chest and your erratic sobbing calmed some.

Forever Rain, Forever Rain, Forever Rain, Forever Rain, Forever Rain,

He repeated this phrase slowly singing into your ear holding you desperately and before you knew it, you passed out in his arms.

Namjoon was sweet, you woke up beside him, you were dressed in a button-up and nothing more and he was in his trousers that looked damp, he was sleeping above the blankets holding your hand as if he hadn’t intended to fall asleep beside you but to watch over you.

You brushed his hair off of his face and covered him with a blanket before heading to his closet, taking out some sweatpants and a plain white shirt. He stirred awake when you emerged from the walk-in closet. 

“Good morning,” You said softly

“You haven’t obtained any of my weapons while I was sleeping have you?” He asked, making you laugh behind your hand.

“No, someone hasn’t taught me how to use a gun properly, something about a magazine?” you said, trying to play coy. Namjoon laughed getting out of bed and taking your hand, dragging you into the closet and he began explaining all about guns and you listened he had all these amazing facts from when they were made to how they were made and how they fired and how far.

He demonstrated how to put ammunition into the magazine and the magazine into the gun. He taught you how to take the safety on and off and how to hold the gun being new so as not to accidentally shoot anyone. 

He led you to the balcony and smiled telling you to hold the gun and he corrected your stance and hold and he told you to aim at a tree and you did. 

“Now shoot?” He smiled encouragingly. You turned to him shocked, starting to protest that you weren’t ready. 

“You are just scared I promise nothing will happen?” He smiled talking you through it all again. 

He didn’t rush you and he didn’t laugh, he spoke the whole time about what you would like for breakfast. You fired a shot and bumped into Namjoon, he chuckled, “that was a good start. Did you close your eyes? Try again.”

It took a few goes and the boys busting in the room before you were comfortable with the weapon. Each had pointers and you felt empowered once more. 

“I can make you a pretty handgun,” Taehyung smiled and the group went to breakfast. 

“We have a meeting today, so dress pretty, it’s a good meeting, nothing scary, I think you will like it.” Namjoon smiled, making you nod and run off to get dressed. 

“Something Christmassy!” Taehyung shouted. 

This wasn’t what you expected when you heard mafia, usually you would think things like guns and drugs and women and violence and sure some of those things were true. 

But giving Christmas presents to an orphanage full of children wasn’t what you had in mind. You took a present and handed it out, “are you mister Kim’s wife now?”

You giggled at the children’s naive question and began thinking about what it would be like if you really were Namjoon’s wife. 

“Well, he hasn’t asked me so, no,” you laughed with the children some of the teens heard and began teasing Namjoon. 

“Why haven’t you asked her yet she is so pretty?” They said, “I would ask her.”

“Namjoon is shy, underneath the suit he is just a boy with dimples” Jimin teased earning a wad of wrapping paper at his head from the man in question. You had stepped outside into the snow watching it fall around you, Namjoon was eyeing you through the small glass window.

Excusing himself Namjoon left the children and headed out into the snowy garden, he shrugged off his jacket as he approached and slipped it over your shoulders. Clearing his throat “you shouldn’t be out here, you might catch a cold”

“Not with you here” You elbowed him playfully, he chuckled allowing you to lean against him, he didn’t tell you he was cold but dutifully stood there and kept you company.

“Thank you so much,” The woman said, as you all stepped out the front door, the boys all headed to the car and you were left beside Namjoon who had left his arm around your waist leading you to the car. “For the presents and the donation, the children and I truly appreciate it.”

“Y/n?” Namjoon said as you walked into the dining room to find it empty, the food was set and there were candles. “I wanted to speak with you privately.”

“Okay, what did you want to talk about?” You asked curiously, what was so important that his men whom he confided everything in were not present.

“Since I met you, I have broken so many of my rules, I have been late, I have forgotten what I have wanted to say, I have spoken without purpose, I have even broken the rule to keep speeches short and sweet.” He laughed rubbing the back of the neck. “I have enjoyed your company greatly and you have made me a better man because of it. Ever since I met you, I was enraptured by your brains and beauty. You are fiery and sassy and kind and real.”

“Thank you, I haven’t done that much though.” You weren’t being modest, you hadn’t done anything special to warrant his compliments.

“I wanted to ask if you would do me the greatest honour of marrying me?” He said, “I will keep you safe, you will never go hungry or cold, I will cherish you with every fibre of my being.”

“Yes,” You said in shock, you liked him of course, you had for a while now but the fact that he could get anyone and he chose you. That was what shocked you, you weren’t on the same status level. He was very high class and you were scrapping the lower end of high class.

The celebration was to be held at the grand hotel, the hall was booked and looking spectacular you were announcing your engagement. It was a real lavish affair and you were in the most expensive gown you had ever seen, feeling like a million dollars and wearing a million and a half.

It was all real, the shoes, jewelry, hotel, engagement and you couldn’t believe it. “Is this a dream?” the stylist shook her head.

You were trying to wonder where it had all come together; it was little gestures and actions. When the two of you met and he was charming and poise when dancing with you. The more you got to know him he was meticulous and sassy and strict, he didn’t miss a chance to correct and reprimand you. 

Somewhere along your journey he started to enjoy your company, he became more clumsy, and open to new ideas. He took a chance and started approaching you with his feelings and what blossomed between you was love.

“My lady, if you are ready follow us to take some photos with your fiance on the rooftop.” You were shaken out of your daydream and guided to the elevator headed for the rooftop, the two men were talking into headsets, “Everything is secure” The man said straight-faced, and the other man helped you hold the small train of your dress.

When you stepped out the men guided you across the rooftop and told you to sit in the chair while the cameraman finished setting up. You sat drinking, you only got a short way through it before you fell asleep.

Waking it was dark, you were strapped to the chair and there was something heavy and bulky on your chest. Eyes adjusting to see the glowing numbers on your chest. You started to cry, something was wrong and almost an hour went by before, you heard someone shouting your name.

“Y/N!” it was Jimin.

“Jimin!” You shouted and he raced over to the door but you heard the clanking of chains. You were locked in. 

“Wait here, I will get the others and something to get you out.” He was gone before you could tell him.

You heard more voices and Namjoon came over, you had ten minutes written on the digital clock on your chest, the numbers flickering down consistently. “Y/N?” Namjoon said, “Don’t worry, we will get you out?”

“Namjoon,” You cried from the seat, sobs breaking through your words, “There is a bomb.”

“Where is the bomb?” Namjoon said 

“It’s here,” Hot tears falling from your eyes stinging, “It’s on me, there is only nine minutes left.”

He swore, “Break this door down now, find another way in?”

They all began struggling and trying their best, but you knew it was useless. Namjoon, go, take everyone and go, there isn’t enough time?”

“No!” Namjoon growled smashing his fists on the door and throwing his shoulder into it, “I will get you out of it.”

“Namjoon, send the boys away don’t get them hurt because of me?” You whispered, “Go!”

“Leave us,” Namjoon said, his voice defeated.

“We won’t leave without you both?” Jungkook said, the timer said three minutes and you wanted to scream at them to go but the sobs took everything out of you.

“A man will follow orders to the letter Jungkook.” Namjoon said, sending the younger man away, “Get out of here.”

“Yeah rule number twenty-two, but what about number thirty-three take a challenge or thirty-nine finish what you start.”

“Jungkook, leave now before I shoot you, your orders are to get everyone out of the building, we will be down soon.”

Jungkook hesitated before running off. You called out to Namjoon begging him to leave but he refused continuing to try to break down the door blinking away the blur in your eyes from the tears you saw the time had only a minute left.

“Namjoon, there is only a minute left, please leave.” You pleaded and you could hear him on the other side of the door. 

“I am not leaving you,” He sniffed, voice watery and shaking with the sounds of his sobs. He broke the number one rule.

[Part 2]

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[dulce-pjm]

stepsisters and squires

word count: 11.0k

genre: fluff, angst

summary: as the story goes, the fairy godmother saved cinderella and sent her to ball. wrong. that was you. you were the one got the dress, the carriage, the glass slippers. but you’re also the one about to screw it all up. so much for happy endings. 

warnings: parents slapping their children, swearing, bad dancing?

“Cinderella. Fetch me my ribbons.”

A look of disdain crosses her face before she rolls her eyes, tugging a little harder on your corset.

“Fetch them yourself, bitch. And stop using that stupid nickname.”

You laugh obnoxiously from your belly, only to have the life squeezed out of your lungs when she yanks on the corset strings, nearly cutting off your oxygen. Your giggles are quickly cut off with a shout of pain.

“I’m kidding, Sowon!” You throw up your hands and gasp when she pulls again. “Oh my god, you’re gonna kill me.”

“You’re much too dramatic,” the girl mumbles, though she’s struggling to hide her grin. You ignore her.

“These things really are torture devices, you know. I don’t understand the point of even wearing them tonight, it’s not like I’m getting married!”

“Isn’t the whole point of the ball to get you engaged?” she asks, eyebrows raised. You glare at her in the mirror, but her eyes stay pinned on the back of your dress. Her light bangs barely hang over her eyes, her shiny, loose curls framing her soft cheekbones perfectly. You’ve always been a tad jealous of her natural beauty, but despite your insistence on the fact that she’s gorgeous, she never takes your compliments. You suppose the innocent humility only adds to her charm.

“My mother might say that, but we both know she’ll never pull it off. I’d much rather pig out at the pastry table than pretend to be interested in a lifelong marriage with some boring rich guy.”

“Not even a hot boring rich guy?” she counters. You stop to ponder that for just a moment too long, making your stepsister of several years giggle, the sound sweet and tinkling.

“What is it?” you shout incredulously, only making Sowon laugh harder, desperately holding onto the corset strings in an effort not to undo her hard work. “If I’m gonna have to commit to someone for the rest of my life, I might as well enjoy looking at them.”

“You have no morals,” Sowon says between spurts of laughter, her cheeks and nose tinged bright pink. You’re smiling widely too, her comment sparking the memory of a certain someone.

“Morals are no fun,” you retort, shifting uncomfortably in your gown. “Are you finished back there? I’m gonna pass out if I have to keep this posture any longer.”

“Just finished.” Sowon steps back to admire her work, letting you spin in your deep magenta ballgown. The skirt is covered in lace and intricate floral designs, the sleeves puffed and hemmed at your forearms, just as you prefer them. Makes it easier to eat without dirtying the cuffs. Sowon always takes extra care with your dresses, never failing to make you feel like a princess. It’s another trait of hers she refuses to accept is just extraordinary. Obnoxiously humble as always.

Sowon adjusts a pin in your hair, fashioned into a braided low bun, with just a few stray curls hanging by your ears. You can’t help but smile, excitement tickling at your stomach. Once Sowon gives you the nod of approval, you spring into action.

“Alright, I better go check on Jin- What are you doing?!” She cries in surprise as you forcefully take her shoulders, and move her to your bed. She falls back onto the comforter, barely upright.

“Just stay there!” you shout, dashing towards your dresser. She’s doe-eyed, her brows raised and mouth cutely pouted as she watches you in utter confusion. You rifle through your drawers until you see a suitable piece of fabric, a satin blue ribbon from a previous gown. You snatch it and rush back to Sowon, moving to tie it around her eyes. She throws up her hands before you can, wrapping her fingers around the cloth.

“What’s going on? Are you trying to blindfold me?”

“It’s a surprise!” you whine. “And yes, stupid girl, I’m clearly trying to blindfold you. It adds to the surprise factor.” Sowon forces an awkward smile onto her face, lowering the ribbon to her lap.

“Can’t we do without the blindfold? Since, you know…” You loll your head to the side in confusion before you realize your utter insensitivity. Sowon’s absolutely terrified of the dark, though she’d never let you say that out loud. Ever since she’d halfway divulged the secret to you, you’d made sure there was a lamp full of oil and a box of matches by the attic door every single night, silently creeping through the hallways as to prevent your mother or brother from catching you. To others, it might seem childish, but you knew that years of being locked away in a cold, dim room with creaking walls and leaking ceilings would give anyone nightmares. In your excitement, you’d nearly forgotten her phobia.

“Oh, of course! Just… think you can close your eyes? Please?” You puff out your lip and bat your lashes, making Sowon’s eyes fly to the ceiling for guidance.

“Why can’t you just show me the surprise?”

“It’s not in here!” you huff, gesturing towards the door. “We have to go get it.”

“You want me to walk with my eyes closed?”

“I’ll guide you!” You grab her hands, squeezing pleadingly. “It’ll be fine, just trust me!” Sowon gives you a long look full of hesitance and suspicion, but seeing your genuine excitement, she eventually gives.

“Fine.” You break into a smile, and pull her to her feet, tugging her down the hall. At your request, Sowon squeezes her eyes shut, stumbling slightly as you weave through the halls of the manor, laughing at her yelps every time her foot barely catches on the carpet or a loose stone in the flooring. And she calls you dramatic.

You approach the one room Sowon never cleans, the storage closet you’ve secretly turned into a home for the surprise you’ve been planning over the past few months, ever since the ball was announced. You bring your stepsister to a halt, screaming when she barely opens her eyes for a moment. After checking the surroundings for any stray family members (who certainly would not approve of your endeavor), you unlock the door with the key you always keep on you, letting it swing open with a large creak.

“Here it is!” you cry, finally allowing Sowon to open her eyes. She looks at your project and then stares at you blankly.

“What is this?” You roll your eyes and grab her arm, tugging her into the poorly lit room and shutting the door behind you.

“It’s your dress!” You fling your arms proudly towards the soft pink gown. You’d spent every last penny you could to make it as extravagant and royalty-like as you could, paying for the hem to be decorated with bows and the waistline to be embroidered with pearls. You were especially proud of the sweetheart neckline, a daring fashion choice that you thought would suit Sowon perfectly. “For the ball tonight. I saved up some money secretly and had it made for you. I know it isn’t much but when mother said all that, I had the idea and I just wanted you to have a dress that made you feel as pretty as you always make me- oof!”

Your impromptu rambling is cut off when Sowon nearly tackles you in a hug, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. She sniffles into your neck, and while your mother might have screamed at the possibility of her saltwater tears ruining your clothes, your chest is swelling with pride. You wrap your arms around your stepsister, giving her an affectionate squeeze.

“It’s perfect,” she whispers. “Thank you, Y/N.” You give her a soothing pat on the back before breaking up the hug and stepping away. There will be time for being sappy later, but now, there’s work to do.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s no big deal. Now let’s put it on!” Sowon is smiling brightly, her cheeks practically glowing. Your roles are switched now as you’re the one attending to her attire, helping her pull the gown over her shoulders and lacing up an old corset of yours while she watches you through a large mirror you’ve leaned against the wall. You pretend not to notice the tears escaping past her lashes every few moments as she grins uncontrollably at her reflection. Her joy is contagious, infecting even your cynical mind. Even if you hate these stupid social events, seeing Sowon so excited made you remember that you had reasons to be excited too.

You pin up a few strands of hair and fasten a pearl comb into the crown of her scalp to compliment the dress. The gown you picked hugs her frame nearly perfectly despite the measurements being mostly guesswork. She looks stunning, absolutely regal, like she was made for this lifestyle. You finish up with only a few minutes to spare and step away, allowing her to bask in her own reflection. Now, tears are threatening to pour from your eyes as you take in your work. It wasn’t long ago that the younger girl barely spoke to you, her eyes always filled with fear and sorrow. There was only so much you could do for her under the hawk-eyes of your family, but you’re glad you’d done enough to see her this happy, even if only for a night.

“This is amazing, Y/N, I don’t know how I can thank you, but-”

“Thank me by coming tonight and dancing with a hot boring rich guy! But we can talk about that later.” Your voice lowers to a whisper. “Now, here’s the important part.” She leans in as you explain all of the preparations you’ve made over the past few months.

You tell her of the carriage and coachman ready for her a ten-minute walk away from town on the main road and which door to use to escape without one of your mother’s eyes and ears and catching her. You instruct her to wait exactly five minutes after you leave the room and then to sprint for the exit as fast as her legs would carry her without ruining her outfit. You tell her to stay away from your mother and brother, to avoid the main ballroom until after the first dances, at which time you, your mother, and Jin will move to the dining halls to mingle. And most importantly, you emphasize how imperative it is that she leave before midnight, before the servants lock the back doors and your mother is too tired to stay out any longer.

“Oh, and I almost forgot! Have fun and no matter how great it sounds, don’t drink the alcohol. It goes down like sugar but your head will be spinning in no time.” Sowon looks like her head is spinning now as she memorizes your instructions, nodding furiously.

“Okay, I won’t.” Her hands are shaking with anticipation, but you know her night of fun will quell the nerves. “You’re like a fairy godmother, you know.” You shrug lightly, pretending to flip your hair.

“What can I say? You deserve a magical night.” You smile earnestly before cracking open the door, making sure the coast is clear before you leave Sowon.

“Wait!” she whisper-yells before you can slip away. “What about shoes?” You nearly smack your hand against your forehead, internally scolding yourself for forgetting.

“There’s a box behind the mirror. Treat them well, they’re very fancy. Venetian glass. Custom fit, too.” Sowon laughs, assuring you that she will.

“Oh, don’t forget to tell your squire I said hello,” Sowon says teasingly as you step out into the hall. You rest your hand on your hip, giving her a knowing look.

“You know I won’t.”

“Really? Because that time I found you two it didn’t look like there was very much talking going on. I thought he was eating you ali-” You slam the door before she can finish, your cheeks heating. You can barely make out her laughter behind the thin walls as you scurry away to the front door, a dumb smile across your face.

You’d like to hope you both are in for a romantic night.

“You bitch.” Your mother’s hand smacks across your face and your head is forceful turned to the side. Jin watches you with slight sympathy in his expression, though he makes no move to aid you. He’s too much of a mother’s boy. “You helped her, didn’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you repeat, straightening your spine.

“Don’t play dumb,” Jin chimes in, arms crossed. “You told me that dress was yours two months ago when it was delivered.” You glare in his direction, having hoped he would have forgotten the entire encounter by now.

“You dare lie to me?” You ignore her, instead focusing on your brother, the one person who should be your ally.

“I’m surprised your memory goes that far back,” you sneer. “With your intelligence, you’d think you were dropped on your head as a child.” Your mother gasps, making you hiss as she strikes you again. Jin attempts to mask his feelings with a look of apathy, but the flicker of insecurity that flashes across his features is enough to make you feel victorious.

Your mother presses her fingers to her temples, looking to the heavens for guidance.

“What did I do to deserve such a disobedient child?” You open your mouth to snap a smart reply, but quickly shut it when you notice her hand still raised.

“There’s nothing we can do about it now,” Jin says.

“You’re right, you’re right,” your mother replies, massaging her forehead and scalp. “I’ll deal with you both in the morning. For now-” She glares pointedly at you. “You will stay in my sight for the rest of the ball. You will be cooperative and pleasant and receptive and you will do exactly as I say. You will dance with every man that I pick for you, even if he’s ninety, and you will not eat a single bite unless I say you may. Am I understood?” You nod defeatedly, eyes pinned to the floor as your mother huffs, dragging you out of the small side room and back into the fray.

It’s not Sowon’s fault, you could never be angry with her. How were you supposed to know they were going to announce everyone as they entered? She’d even thought to keep her real name to herself, though you could imagine that upon being asked, she’d panicked. As soon as a ‘Cinderella of Greenfield’ had been loudly introduced to the ballroom, your mother’s eyes had bulged out of her head and her face blanched of color. Within minutes she’d put your panicked expression and stepsister’s surprise appearance together and yanked you away from the crowd, unleashing her anger.

Your face falls further when you realize that this new development means you won’t see the one you’re really looking for, who you’re always looking for, really. You’d like to hope that even if you aren’t dancing with your ‘prince charming’ (a term that would make him cringe and groan), Sowon will at least have her own fun before the clock strikes twelve.

“Fix your posture.” You quickly straighten your spine, folding your hands neatly in front of you. You can already see your mother’s eyes scanning the premises, searching for a new victim- er, suitor. Your brother has already disappeared off to god-knows-where, probably chatting up another girl. You, however, don’t have such luxury when your mother believes it’s taking way too long to get you married off.

Despite your insistence that being single at twenty is in fact not the same thing as being an old maid, your mother pays no attention to your opinions on the subject.

You resist taking a swig from the champagne flute resting between your fingers, instead turning your attention to the dancing couples. The first few times you were allowed to attend these balls, the dancers seemed magical and heavenly and happy, dress skirts spinning in sparkly swirls of color. But the dance floor had long lost its glamour when you realized how political the act of dancing really was. No one danced because it was fun or romantic, they did it to secure their relationships, to sign the contract of their alliance without touching a pen. It was all about appearance and status. Dreams of waltzing with your one true love were crushed once your mother had shoved you into the arms of a man much older and much creepier than you would have ever wanted.

You could say with confidence now, however, that dancing isn’t anything close to a requirement when forming a romantic relationship. It’s honestly pretty boring. Shameless flirting and stolen kisses, however, are much more fun.

Too bad you wouldn’t be doing any of those things tonight.

“I’m sorry, what was your name again?” you ask, making your mother pinch your side. You do your best to ignore the pain.

The man you’ve been talking to for the past several minutes pauses, his sweet smile becoming strained.

“And- Oh, it’s Jimin.” You nod, pretending like you’ll remember it five minutes from now. You feel bad. The guy’s pretty cute, his dashing eye smile and boyish features making his cautious flirting all the more adorable. But it’s difficult to really appreciate his looks when your mind is occupied with other faces and names. Or, well, a very specific face and name.

“My apologies, her mind is always wandering,” your mother intrudes, leaning into your conversation as if she’s the one who’s supposed to be initiating a courtship and not you.

“It’s alright…” Jimin squirms uncomfortably under your mother’s scrutinizing stare.

“We really would love to know more about your father’s business. You are the eldest, correct?”

Jimin’s eyes flash from your blank expression to your mother’s eager one, before, like all the suitors before him, he realizes that this really isn’t the place he wants to be. He gives you an apologetic look before inventing some excuse about seeing a business friend and darting away before your mother can protest.

She turns to you, eyes ablaze.

“You’re acting like a petulant child,” she snaps. “Don’t expect to leave your room at all for at least a week. Keep this up and you’ll be lucky to have a single meal.”

“It’s not my fault!” You know you aren’t helping your case by being defensive, but at this point, you don’t care. You’re bored and miserable and your skin still stings where your mother slapped you. “You keep scaring them away!”

“Watch your tone.” It’s ironic, really. You could smile and flirt and be docile all day long, the only thing stopping your mother’s wishes of a suitor from coming true is your mother herself. She can’t help but question the hell out of every man who walks your way until they’re shaking in their dress shoes, fully regretting ever coming within your vicinity. You’ve never had a courtship last longer than a month, let alone make it past the first conversation. At least not one that your mother knows about.

Your mind wanders again to the vision of a snarky boy you’ve come to care for deeply, his thoughtful, coffee-colored eyes, his pouty lips. You’re grinning to yourself at the memory of his ever-stern expression breaking into a sheepish smile when you push just the right buttons, make just the right remark. There isn’t much you wouldn’t give to be talking with him rather than the men picked out by your mother, but, alas, not all dreams come true.

“Ow!”

Your toes ache when your new suitor clumsily steps on them, his palm sweaty and nervous against yours. He quickly panics at your expression but continues the waltz.

“Oh, I am so sorry!” he whispers, awkwardly twirling you under his arm, just as his foot slams onto yours again. You wince. The poor kid might be your age, but it seems he still isn’t quite used to the lanky limbs puberty gave him. He’s barely even dancing at this point, mostly just stumbling across the floor and stringing you along. You wonder if this is his first ball, because it took a good ten minutes for you to coach him into actually leading you, instead of the other way around.

“It’s really okay,” you assure him, noticing his blonde strands falling into his face. You were scared out of your mind the first time you danced, too, though probably for entirely different reasons.

“I promise I’m not usually this awful,” he insists. “I broke my glasses just before I got here, so everything’s pretty blurry.” You sympathize with him. Awful vision and carefully maneuvered dancing don’t exactly pair well together.

“Namjoon, was it?” He nods, flashing a small, dimpled smile. “This your first time?”

His grin turns sheepish. “Was it that obvious?” You shake your head, but then wonder if he can even tell, if his dancing is truly a reflection of his poor eyesight.

“No, I just hadn’t seen you before. I attend most of these things.” Namjoon relaxes at the casual conversation, glad to be talking as peers and not potential spouses.

“Really? Don’t you get tired of them?”

“All the fucking time.” Namjoon’s jaw drops at your language. You cringe, glad your mother can’t stalk you while you’re dancing. “Er- sorry.”

“It’s fine, really.” The lights are dimming outside and your sympathy for the man only grows. Even your vision begins to fail once night falls. Would it kill them to get better lighting in this place?

“My point is, they get easier. Promise. The nerves will go away eventually, probably quicker than you think.” Namjoon laughs skeptically, his grip loosening in yours.

“Easier said than done.” A smirk creeps across your lips.

“See? You’re already comfortable with me! I’m proud.” He immediately starts blushing and tensing up again, but you’ve made your point and Namjoon is grateful. You knew you could be quite intimidating, that this whole event could be quite intimidating, so you’re always glad to help a fellow straggler out.

The dance ends with Namjoon accidentally knocking his head against yours as he bows deeply, profusely apologizing. You laugh it off and send him on his way, probably to recover from the embarrassment in private. You almost get your hopes up that your mother will let you go, but it doesn’t take long for you to be shoved into a new conversation.

“It’s just- I love her, you know?” The boy is staring at you earnestly, his chin propped in his hands and his shaggy, brown hair anything but styled properly. You’re not even sure why your mother settled for this guy. He certainly doesn’t seem like a rich bachelor looking for a wife.

You lean in, fully captured by his heartfelt story. It only took two minutes before the guy noticed your disinterest and gave up on flirting, suggesting the two of you chat casually over desserts instead. You accepted his offer in a heartbeat, feeling your mother glaring holes into your back as he guided you away, finding a corner table and a heaping tray of eclairs. Now, you were listening to his romantic tale, absolutely astounded at his experiences.

“Yeah, I think I do. But what are you supposed to do? She’s locked in an enchanted tower! With a witch!”

“Exactly!” Taehyung responds, throwing his hands into the air. “The only reason I’m here and not with her is because of my family. If I could just get away from them, I’d think up a way to rescue her, I’m sure of it.” You ponder his dilemma as you shove another eclair into your mouth, treasuring the sugary pastry while you still can. He’d already tried the obvious choice, bringing a rope, but as soon as he stepped inside the tower with his love, it disintegrated in his hands, spoiling the plan.

“Maybe you can trick the witch!” You suggest, words muffled by the dessert you’re chewing on as you blatantly talk with your mouth open. All manners have been abandoned as Taehyung is eating two eclairs at once, equally focused on the matter at hand. “Well, no, maybe trying to trick a magical scary lady is a bad idea.”

You think for a moment longer, taking a few more desserts, before your brain lights up.

“Wait, we’re both idiots!” you exclaim, slamming the table in epiphany. Taehyung leans forward, anticipating your new idea. “Just cut her hair and use it as a rope! Surely the enchantment isn’t that advanced.” Taehyung processes your idea before his lips grow into a wide, joyous grin that stretches into his cheeks adorably. If it weren’t for other circumstances, you’d actually consider courting this guy.

“That’s genius!” he shouts, jumping up from his seat. “What do I do now?” You rise with him, taking his hands into yours.

“You have to go to her. Now.” Taehyung’s face grows solemn with resolve as he takes a deep breath.

“I will! Thank you, really.”

“You can thank me by inviting me to the wedding!” The boy laughs and assures you that he will before he grabs one last eclair, dashing out of the castle and into the night. You can only hope that he’ll be successful in his quest, that he won’t die because the plan went horribly wrong or the witch is waiting for him. You send a silent prayer to whoever is listening, but a part of you just believes he’ll be alright.

Having nowhere else to go, you make your way back to where you last saw your mother, brushing against several shoulders as you weave through the crowd. But instead of your mother, Jin is who you see, pigging out on a plate full of food from the buffet. Your mouth waters at the sight.

“Where’s mom?” you ask tentatively, Jin barely meeting your eyes before returning to his meal.

“Went to talk to someone important. I dunno.” You sigh. For being your older brother, he sure is useless.

Your second great idea of the night begins to grow in the back of your mind, daring to give you hope.

“Oh… Well, if you see her, tell her I’m speaking to another suitor. A very rich and very powerful one.” Jin nods, barely half-listening. Knowing your mother, if she was really talking to someone important, it’d take a while. Giving you plenty of time to do the one thing you really came for.

“Uh-huh.”

You dash off before Jin can think twice, leaving him with his second love, only topped by himself, of course.

Your heart is throbbing in your chest, lungs aching from lack of oxygen as you weave through the ballroom and sprint down the halls, making your best guess as to where to find him. You can see the look on his face now, seeing you all dolled up and exhausted from socialization. He’ll make fun of you to no end, but you don’t mind. You have plenty to tease him about, too.

As you round a corner, you collide with a strong chest, only stopped from falling by a pair of strong arms.

But when you glance up, you’re met with a very different squire than the one you’re seeking, but still a dear friend.

“Y/N? I thought you weren’t coming!” You smile as you steady yourself.

“Are you kidding? I’m always at these things, Hoseok.” You step back, peeking around his shoulder, but you’re only met with an empty hall.

“You’re telling me,” he laughs, a friendly hand still lingering on your shoulder. “What took you so long?” You shrug, still catching your breath.

“Suitors, dancing, my mother… You know how it is.” Hoseok nods in understanding, his kind eyes and warm brown hair a welcome sight after a night full of socializing with strangers. “Why aren’t you in uniform?”

“Ahh, it’s our last night off. Like a reward before we get knighted and swear our lives to the crown and all that.”

“Wait, really? You’re getting knighted?! That’s amazing, Hoseok!” The man blushes, shrugging sheepishly. His stupid humility reminds you of Sowon. The two of them would be great friends, you muse, being all shy about their accomplishments together. But never in a million years would you allow them in the same room, not with Hoseok’s reputation.

“Well, we both are.” His eyes light up at something behind you. His hand spins you around, facing you towards the rest of the ballroom. “But your boyfriend can’t even enjoy his one night to have fun. He’s over there brooding in the corner like he’s on duty or something. Doesn’t matter how many times I or Jinyoung tell him to relax, he won’t listen.”

“Sounds about right,” you muse.

“Go talk to him, will you? Make him lighten up.”

Hoseok winks at you before strolling off, making you roll your eyes. But your gaze quickly returns to the idiot you’ve come to love, looking more like a criminal than a knight as he watches the crowd with narrowed eyes. He looks dashing in his ball attire, his dark hair slicked back and leaving his forehead exposed, only a few strands falling out of place. He’s dressed in a simple suit, a white dress shirt with navy blue slacks and overcoat, but he makes the entire look seem classy and elegant.

Despite his piercing gaze, he doesn’t notice you until you’ve snuck up behind him, trailing your fingers up his arm, leaving goosebumps in your wake. His eyes barely flicker to your before quickly returning and focusing on the dance floor, as if you were never there.

“Hey, squire.” No one notices you fiddling with the collar of his coat, not as the lights are growing dimmer and dimmer. He doesn’t respond, face still fixed ahead.

“Oh, come on, you’re off duty. Hoseok told me. At least talk to me.” Still, nothing. He’s as still as a statue.

“Please? I’m sorry I took so long, I got caught up with my mom, you know how she can be.” It’s like you’re talking to air, having a conversation with yourself. His brows furrow at the mention of your mother though, sharing as much hatred for the woman as you do.

“Yoongi.” He sighs, finally facing you. But upon seeing your face, really taking it in, his expression immediately fills with concern, rather than that smile you really want to see.

“Are you okay? Your eyes are swollen.” Damn it. Rely on Min Yoongi to always see right through your facade, to never save you your pride. “Was it your mother?”

“No,” you lie. “I’m fine, really. I just missed you.” Eager to change the subject, you smirk, eyeing the top of his shirt, left unbuttoned. “Really, Min? How unprofessional…” You reach up and fix it, leaning close enough to feel his breath on your face. You meet his eyes cheekily, seeing the conflict brewing in his mind.

“Where have you been? How’s Sowon?”

“Around. Turning down suitors. And as far as I know, she’s good. Hopefully enjoying herself.” Your hands linger at his collar, fiddling with it as you grow closer and closer.

“You sure they aren’t turning you down? You’re pretty damn annoying.” You feign a gasp.

“Wowww, do all those years of me helping you train mean nothing to you? All those late nights for you to insult me like this?” Yoongi takes your hand before you can slip away in your faux-anger, intertwining your fingers.

“I think you’re glossing over all the years that I protected you from the snakes in the palace garden.”

“Oh please,” you scoff. “That was all just a ploy to get me to hold your hand.” He smirks, fully turning away from the party and towards you.

“It worked, didn’t it?”

“Only because I wanted it to. Now, are you going to keep holding my hand like we’re fourteen or kiss me?” He laughs, eyes flashing to your lips.

It only takes a moment before the two of you have disappeared from the main room and you’re pressed up against a wall, kissing him messily in a quiet hall, far from the other guests.

You’re not stupid enough to go any further, as much as you’d like to, but for now you’re satisfied just to feel his lips on yours, just to be in his presence for a while. Your fingers are running through his hair, ruining his hairstyle as his arms are wrapped around your waist, tugging you close as he kisses you senseless, as if to make up for the lost time.

No matter how many times you see him, no matter how many times you corner him in a dark room with time to kill, your heart always thumps in your chest and your stomach always flutters when he’s nearby. It’s always like the first time you talked to him, nerves racing up and down your spine like the idiot teenager you were back then.

He’s always been the first one you want to talk to in the morning, the last person you want to see before your head hits the pillow. And, of course, he’s the one you always wished was treating you to dates or romantic strolls instead of whatever suitor your mother chose next.

While your mind is racing, hands beginning to wander, Yoongi pulls away all too soon, leaving you reeling.

“Sorry,” he mutters, growing all embarrassed when the tips of his ears turn pink. “I was getting carried away.” You laugh, poking at his blushing cheeks. He jerks away, summoning a scowl that he can’t maintain as you only laugh at him further.

“That’s not very knightly of you,” you tease, glancing over his shoulder to make sure you’re still alone, a habit you’ve developed over years of seeing him in secret. Yoongi shakes his head, glaring at your proud grin.

“I don’t think sneaking off with a squire looks very good for you, either, dumbass.”

“I think you mean running off with a soon-to-be knight! Hoseok told me!” Yoongi scoffs.

“Of course he did. Asshole.” You quirk your brow.

“Wait, are you not happy you’re being knighted?” You affectionately comb your fingers through his hair in an attempt to fix the damage you’ve caused as he shakes his head furiously.

“No, no, that’s not it. I wanted to tell you myself, that’s all. There’s actually something I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while, now.”

“What, that you’re finally using your knightly privileges to kill me once and for all?”

“What? No! At least, not yet.”

“You’re gonna get me my own sword?”

“No. I’m-”

“You’re going on a quest to save a girl in a tower?” Yoongi’s expression is incredulous. It takes everything in you to suppress your giggles as you relish in his confusion.

“What are you even talking about?”

“Trust me, it happens.”

“Oh- Okay? Well, what I’m trying to say is-”

“You’re leaving me for Hoseok? It’s okay, I understand. He’s so hot, I would too-” Exasperated, Yoongi claps a hand over your mouth, still keeping you pinned in the corner despite your struggling.

“God, no! I’m trying to tell you I’m gonna marry you, okay?” You freeze, eyes going wide. His hand lowers, letting your jaw drop. “I mean, assuming you want to.”

“Yoongi…” You sigh, a sadness you’re often able to ignore filling your chest and throat. “We talked about this, you know my mother won’t-”

“I don’t care what your mother thinks.” He sighs, face unsure instead of smug or annoyed, as usual. The sight makes your chest constrict. “I’m serious. I’m in love with you and I have been for years, you know that. I’ve been saving up and I can take care of you, at least for a while. But after I’m knighted, I’ll have a steadier income. And then in a few years, maybe we can open that tailor shop with Sowon you’re always talking about. You can do the numbers and Sowon can sew and I know I’m not great with either of those things but I’m sure I can figure out something to help with. I’ll make it work, I promise. You just have to trust me a little.”

For a moment, you allow yourself to hope. To stare into his pleading eyes, to imagine a future with him, a life filled with sarcastic remarks and flirtatious glances and a shop, a place to call your own with the people you love. Out of your mother’s reach, in Yoongi’s arms, happy and content.

But you’re not stupid.

No matter where you go, she’ll follow you. She’ll crush you and ruin you just like she’s done to everyone in her path, spreading rumors and menacing words until you’re despised and cast aside. You’d watched her do it to her own friends, to Sowon in her own house. Once she knows about Yoongi, she’ll do the same to him too. You can’t allow that to happen. You might be afraid of your mother, but you’re far more afraid of what she would do to him than what she would do to you.

“Yoongi, I love you, I really do, but I- I can’t. I won’t.” I won’t hurt you. You almost laugh. In order to spare him from a world of pain, you have to inflict pain yourself.

His face darkens, his expression flashing with hurt. Your heart squeezes painfully in your chest. His grip loosens on you, and the disappointed but unsurprised look on his face is too much to bear.

“Are you serious? Is this really what you want? To let her control you?” Yoongi bites his lip. You wish he’d get angry. That he’d yell and scream and insult you. Instead, his eyes grow glassy and sad, his brow furrowed with concern, making you feel all the worser. You wish you could kiss him until it was all gone, until nothing mattered anymore and you both felt alright again.

“I’m sorry, Yoongi.” You slip away, out of his arms. You’re out of the room and wiping tears from your eyes in a flash. You hurl yourself down the hall, muffling your choked sobs behind your hand. You’re stumbling like Namjoon on the dance floor, ignoring Yoongi calling your name and chasing after you. You know he’ll leave you alone once you make it back to the crowd, once it’s possible your mother could see.

Maybe it was better this way. If you just left each other alone, pretend it never happened. You were nothing but a leech, really. Taking and taking and taking from him and never giving. You didn’t deserve him, not his talks, not his kisses, not his anything. You deserve to grow old miserable with someone you don’t love. You aren’t brave enough to try for something more, not like Yoongi is.

“Y/N?” You nearly run into the girl, her face looking as panicked as you feel. You quickly dab at your eyes, summoning a casual smile. “Are you okay?”

“Hey, Sowon! Having fun?” Not unlike Yoongi, she’s clearly conflicted on whether or not to press you further. You’re grateful when she doesn’t.

“I- um- yeah. I’m leaving, actually.”

“What?” You aren’t carrying a watch, but you know it’s not anywhere near midnight yet, not by a long shot. “Why?” It’s then that you notice that her cheeks are slightly tear-stained too, red from embarrassment. Her hands are shaky, barely holding onto yours. “Did something happen?”

“I really can’t talk about it, now,” she says, voice breaking. “I just have to go.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll talk to you at home, alright?” She nods, her weak smile thankful.

“Alright, see you-”

“Y/N.” Your heart leaps into your throat when you see your mother standing not too far from you and Sowon, her glare murderous and cold. She pretends not to see her stepdaughter, but you know a majority of her fury comes from her presence at the ball tonight.

You shoot your stepsister a look and she’s gone before you can blink, tearing off into the crowd. Wait, is she missing a shoe? Those took up half of your budget!

“I was just looking for you!” You say it awkwardly, the worst acting performance of your life. You’ve done better than this as an eight-year-old. You try to force yourself to forget everything that’s just transpired. All that matters is minimizing your mother’s wrath, if possible.

You aren’t entirely sure why, but she hasn’t dragged you away to a private space to scream at you for your insolence. Instead, she’s forcing a strained smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Your stomach starts to sink. Somehow this feels worse.

“We’ve been summoned. By the royal family.” Your stomach accelerates from a sink to a drop, leaving you nauseous and an anxious feeling itching up your arms and back, choking your throat.

“What?”

“I don’t know why I continue to do these things for you,” she says, wringing her hands, as if to keep them from lashing out. “But it seems I’ve secured you a betrothal. To the Crown Prince.”

“What.”

It had to be a lie. How had your mother, the least personable human you knew, managed to do this? And she hadn’t even consulted you? Not that you’re surprised about it, but the stress and pressure and cruelty of it all is getting to you. What would this even mean? Is it all just a lie to get you alone so she can really yell?

But the look in her eye and Jin’s story support her claim. Your emotions hit you like a train again as the realization sets in.

“Mom.” Your lip trembles, unable to force itself into a smile for her, not anymore. “I don’t want that. Please.” You silently follow up your plea with desperate eyes, frantically attempting to keep tears from further spilling down your face. But her expression contorts, leaving no room for fake smiles and laughter. Her brows are pressed as far down as they can go, her mouth permanently twisted into a scowl. Her hand raises and you flinch prematurely, casting your face downwards.

“You ungrateful little-”

“I’ll be glad to escort you to the royal family.” Your eyes shoot upwards at the sound of the familiar voice. But Yoongi doesn’t even glance your way, looking at your mother with his stoic, knightly expression he’s worked to perfect over the years.  Like he didn’t propose to you minutes prior.

“Who are you?” your mother sneers, giving him a skeptical look.

“A knight,” he states plainly. “This is my night off, but considering your daughter’s recent change in status, it’s only practical she receive a change in security as well.” Your mother ponders this before smirking, the pride of your apparent future marriage already fueling her own ego. She nods, forcefully taking your elbow. Yoongi’s eyes barely flicker with fury when he glances at your mother’s hand, knuckles white from her grip, but he’s able to calmly mask it before your mother notices.

“Well, then, by all means, get on with it.” She gestures ahead as if she’s the one paying him to be here and not the palace. He pretends not to notice her blatantly rude behavior, steadily striding back down the hall, leading you to your own doom.

Ironic, really. You’ve just had someone propose to you and now you’re being lead off to another engagement by the very same man. My god, you’re about to be engaged. To the fucking crown prince. What’s his name? Isn’t he younger than you? You can’t even remember, your mind is going too fast, your heart pounding too loudly.

Your mother is hissing instructions into your ear, berating you for your behavior before you’ve even entered the room, but you don’t hear a single word.

You’ve accepted defeat before the battle has begun as you bite your lip to keep it from trembling.

You hate the way Yoongi doesn’t fight it, how you can only watch his backside as you walk towards an engagement you never wanted, too afraid to say no. You want to run away, to grab Yoongi’s hand and never look back. But that leaves too much to chance. You don’t know where you would go, if you could take Sowon with you.

Crippled by fear and indecisiveness, you stay silent.

“Well, I think that settles everything.” You jolt in your seat, yanked from your daze when you’re being pinched harshly.

Jin’s been pouting in his seat the whole time, frustrated he even had to be here in the first place. He should be pleased, he’s about to have all the food and women he wants, and more.

“We’re incredibly thankful at being given this opportunity,” your mother insists. You muster a smile, unable to meet the eyes of the supposed prince, who’s pouting like a petulant child. His features match his seemingly immature personality, boyish and cute. His eyes are large and doe-like, nearly bulging out of his head with each word spoken, each negotiation settled. You’re glad you’re not the only one who feels poorly about this, though the two of you express that emotion very differently.

Yoongi hasn’t looked at you once the entire time. Instead, he’s standing at the door without a sound, just like the knight he’s been trained to be.  

“Well, we’re grateful to have negotiated this opportunity as well, Lady Kim. I’m sure your daughter will make a lovely queen alongside Jungkook.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. You hadn’t even opened that can of worms yet. How were you supposed to be a queen? You could barely play checkers without panicking, how would you be able to manage the stress of ruling a country?!

“I’m sure she will, too. Right, Y/N?” All eyes pin on you and your blood runs cold, goosebumps running up your arms and legs.

“I- I’ll do my best,” you murmur, your voice choked and quiet. The king leans forward, brow furrowing.

“What did you say?” You open your mouth to repeat yourself, but your mother beats you to it.

“She said she agrees. She’s really quite the talented socializer, always making friends and connections. She’ll be a beloved queen, I’m confident in it.” The queen smiles softly in approval, gazing at you affectionately. She must think your nerves stem from being in the same room as the prince, but that couldn’t be farther from the truth. You’d give anything to be able to sprint away, never looking back.

“I’m sorry, but when did I say I agreed to this?” Jungkook shouts the question, making everyone else in the room jump. Your gaze lowers to the table again as you try to pray yourself out of existence. The queen places her hand over her son’s, sighing disappointedly.

“Jungkook, not right-”

“No, Mom! You tell me to get married and I say fine, as long as I can do it on my own terms. You tell me to find a girl I liked at this ball, who I think I could care for and would make a good ruler, and I did. I found someone and you won’t even hear me out!”

“Enough!” the king roars, slamming a fist on the table. “Your ‘girl’ ran off and all you have to prove her existence is a glass shoe. A glass shoe, Jungkook. That’s not evidence of a queen candidate, it’s footwear!”

“I told you, your stupid guards scared her off! She started panicking and mumbling things about a stepmother and needing to go and your guards kept me from following her! And now this is all I have to show for it.” A loud gasp leaves your mouth and you look up to see Jungkook holding a small heeled slipped, made of Venetian glass. Sowon’s slipper.

“What?” Jungkook leans forward, eyes boring into yours. “Do you recognize this? Do you know her?” Your mouth hangs open like a fish out of water, unable to form words. But your mother has already pieced together this puzzle, what with your startled reaction and Jungkook’s retelling of the story.

“Oh, surely not,” your mother insists. Her hand squeezes yours, nearly crushing it, making you yelp. You barely see Yoongi’s nostrils flare, but he doesn’t move. “She just loves Venetian glass, don’t you, dear?” The question falls on deaf ears when Jungkook starts ranting to his father again.

“I’m not giving up on this,” he states matter-of-factly, almost initiating a staredown with the king himself.

“And I’m not going to be controlled by a teenager who doesn’t understand priorities,” he snaps back, eyes blazing. The queen sighs, massaging her temples, as if this isn’t the first time such an argument has occurred.

“I have an idea!” your mother exclaims, clapping her hands together and momentarily drawing the attention of the rest of the table. Jin is still totally checked out, staring off into space. You wonder if he’s sleeping with his eyes open.

“His Highness should try to find this mystery girl! Put out an ad, let girls try on the shoe, do house visits if you wish.” You gawk at your mother, wondering what the hell she’s playing at. “We all deserve a chance at love, no?”

“Yes,” the king responds. “But-”

“But if in, say, two weeks, this girl doesn’t show or she doesn’t turn out to be a good candidate…” You gasp when she interrupts the king, a blatant show of disrespect, but he says nothing, only listening to your mother’s idea patiently. “Then we move forward with the engagement with my daughter. That way we all get a fair chance at what we want.”

“I… suppose that would fine.” Jungkook looks at your mother skeptically, but he really has no reason to say no. She’s just offered him his chance with his dream girl. Why would he refuse?

To everyone else, your mother seems charitable, maybe even absurdly so. But to those who are privy to full the context of the situation (you, Yoongi, and Jin), she’s anything but. In one fell swoop, she’s managed to seize full control of the situation while making a good impression on the royal family. As long as she has you and Sowon pinned beneath her thumb, she’s won easily.

“Yes, I suppose that is fair,” the king says. “Two weeks, Jungkook. That’s it.” His son nods solemnly, determination filling his eyes.

“Two weeks.”

You say nothing to Yoongi as you leave. You know he understands just as well as you do. You’re getting engaged. Just not to him.

“Wait!” You spin around only to be met with your maybe-future-fiancé, gripping your shoulders with a desperate look in his eye. You catch another man staring at you from the door, but you pointedly don’t meet his gaze.

“Yes, Your Highness?” The prince groans.

“Oh, please, don’t call me that.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Your cheeks heat as your mother glares at you from the side, just out of Jungkook’s view.

“Are you sure you don’t know this girl? She’s about this tall-” He raises a hand to just below his shoulder. “-and she’s blonde and really pretty and she was wearing a pink dress.” You’re about to respond, but he continues his description. “And she’s honestly the nicest, most sweet person I’ve ever met. I don’t think she could hurt a fly if she tried.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair nervously. “I know I’ve gotta sound insane right now, but I’m not claiming to be in love with her or anything like that. I just have to see her again. And by the way she was talking, I’m really worried. She might need help. Even if she hates me and that’s why she ran off, I just have to make sure she’s okay and safe.”

You’re astounded at his passionate speech. You’d misjudged him completely. He might be immature or naive, but never had someone seemed so genuine. Never had someone seen Sowon the way you saw her: the silly, sweet girl with a heart of gold.

You’re impressed.

But your pleasant surprise is spoiled when you catch your mother’s gaze, and a realization hits you.

You’d be stupid to trust this Jungkook idiot. No matter how earnest he was, there was no guarantee your mother wouldn’t contradict you, wouldn’t call you insane and have you institutionalized. She could go home tonight and have Sowon shipped off and killed before Jungkook had a chance, and it’d be all your fault. No one was going to stop this. Not Jin. Not Jungkook. Not Yoongi. Not you.

No matter where you go, no matter what you do, your mother will always be there, always be pulling the strings. To try to resist it would only make things worse. For you and Sowon.

You won’t be selfish. You won’t be brave. You’ll take whatever your mother makes you do, as long as she doesn’t hurt Sowon.

Your eyes meet Yoongi’s, full of unspoken apologies.

“Yes, I’m sure,” you lie. “I don’t know her.”

You turn away before you have to see the disappointment in either of their faces.

Two weeks later, you’re allowed to leave your room again. You’re dizzy and nauseous with the guilt and hunger and exhaustion, but your decision remains firm. It’s not like you could really undo it anyway.

You lug your body downstairs, forcing yourself to smile, to look pleasant. Jungkook is sitting in the foyer, a poorly masked sad expression on his face. You’re sad, too.

“-really am disappointed you weren’t able to find your girl. I suppose some mysteries just can’t be solved, can they?”

“Mmm.”

You gulp. You worry about said girl two floors up, who you haven’t seen in a fortnight, probably feeling upset and betrayed.

But you’d been able to cut a deal. Your silence and compliance in exchange for Sowon’s freedom and safety. Maybe it was reckless and stupid to prioritize your stepsister’s life over yours, but after years living in a household that did the opposite, you figured it was the least you could do.

Or maybe you were the selfish one. Maybe all of this was an elaborate ploy to avoid standing up to your mother, your biggest fear.

Either way, it felt much too late to turn back now.

Of course, to make things more painful, Yoongi had to be here too. Watching as you betrayed yourself and him, maybe even Sowon too. You hated how he attempted to hide his obvious disapproval and hurt, to hide his true feelings for your sake.

He stills looks just as good in uniform as he did in his ball clothes. He’s still dressed in navy blue, but the royal crest is embroidered across his chest and a sword hangs at his waist, his hair slicked away from his face again. He looks dashing. Knightly. Regal.

But you’ve given up the privilege of being able to look at him that way. He’s not yours anymore.

An exhausted look duke stands next to the equally tired Jungkook, blabbering on about logistics and future plans. They’re here to take you away permanently, to begin residing at the palace and training for queen hood and preparing for the marriage. Your mother and Jin will follow soon after, leaving their servants here to be released from work, including Sowon, for which you’re grateful.

“Well, I’ll miss her dearly while you’re keeping her,” your mother croons, her voice so sickeningly sweet you think you might vomit again.

“I’ll make sure she’s treated well,” Jungkook assures her. Another bout of guilt claws up your throat. He’s much too innocent, much too good for you.

“I would hope so.” Your mother wraps an arm around you and squeezes. “She deserves the best, she really does.” At some point, Yoongi’s dropped his stoic look, putting up his hands pleadingly in desperation.

You deserve better, he mouths.

“I don’t.”

“What?” Jungkook’s brow is quirked, a very puzzled expression on his face.

“She’s just humble!” your mother nearly shouts, voice strained and threatening to crack.

Are you going to let her decide for you?

It is my decision.

I love you.

You look away from Yoongi before you cry again. You’ve done enough of that over the past two weeks.

“Well, I suppose it’s time we get going,” the duke pipes up, gesturing to the rest of the guards, who begin trudging to their feet and filing their way out of the room. Jungkook takes your arm awkwardly leading you away from your childhood home. You bite your lip and squeeze your fist.

Is this really want Sowon would want? You don’t know. She ran from Jungkook, after all. If she really thought he cared about her, if she really thought safety or love was possible, wouldn’t she have stayed? Jungkook seemed genuine, seemed caring. So why?

An awful thought occurs to you. An awful, terrible, irreversible thought.

There was only one reason you could think of as to why your stepsister had run, had sacrificed her chance with her prince charming.

She didn’t want to leave you behind.

Your mother would have been furious, would have dragged both you and Jin out of the country if that’s what it took to quell her own embarrassment. She’d threatened it before, and she wasn’t one to do so without the intention of following through. You’d never see Sowon or Yoongi again, not in this lifetime, anyway.

Your stepsister risked everything for you, sacrificed her own happiness for your own, and here you were about to leave her behind in the same way she refused to do to you.

You’re giving up everything you cared about, because, what? You’re scared?

Yoongi loves you. You love him. You’ve longed to be with him, to really be with him, for years. And he gave you a solution. He put in the effort to make it work, put it all on the line to be with you.

And you told him no. Because you were scared.

You don’t want to be scared anymore.

“Stop!” you shout, pushing Jungkook away, his expression riddled with surprise. “Just, stop. I have your mystery girl. Come on.”

“You what?” You sigh loudly, leaving him in the dust as you march back up to your mother, who’s gaping at you in horror and disgust from the large doorway.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” your mother gasps. You ignore the way your stomach clenches and that familiar feeling of wanting to crawl under the covers and never come back out.

“Get Sowon or I will.” You state it loudly, for everyone in the vicinity to hear. She gasps, her face turning bright red with anger. You see the retort forming on her lips, the scream threatening to tear from her lungs, but your spine remains straight and tall.

You resist smirking as a familiar presence eases its way behind you, a gentle hand landing on your shoulder.

“Move aside,” Yoongi bellows. His voice clearly sends shivers down your mother’s spine as she jumps to the side out of fear, but you’re suppressing a giggle when you know that he’s just a big softie underneath.

As you make the final trek upstairs to unlock the door and bring Sowon to her awaiting prince and freedom, Yoongi’s hand never leaves yours, giving you reassuring squeezes every time you hesitate. He’s never been one for passionate declarations or romantic gestures, but his unending honesty and small actions are enough for you to feel loved.

“I’m proud of you,” he murmurs into your ear as you tug Sowon out the door for the last time. You don’t give your mother the dignity of a last glance. You can guess how she appears, face contorted in anger and embarrassment and shock as she realizes she’s been betrayed, that she won’t be able to manipulate her way out of this one, though you wouldn’t put it past her to try.

You do, however, give a single nod to Jin as you go, a silent message of forgiveness. He returns a similar look to you. You know the two of you can never be close again, but you hope one day you can see him again. You both are just doing what you must to survive.

After being peppered with questions and giving thousands of explanations to the guards and Jungkook, you’re finally allowed a moment to breathe. Sowon and her prince are staring at each other sheepishly, both suddenly shy and unsure. He awkwardly shakes her hand just as she goes to curtsy, making the both of them burst into stiff giggles and smiles. You shake your head at their antics, but a part of you hopes they make it past this phase and work out.

Just as you’re about to suggest that the group get moving lest your mother takes all of your heads, you’re being yanked away into the shadows behind Jungkook’s carriage and being met with a knowing smile.

You smirk, looping your arms around his neck.

“Hey, squire.” You lean up to press a kiss against his lips but he stops you with the pad of his finger.

“Knight. I’m a knight now.” He’s grinning cheekily, smile so wide you can see his gums. You shake your head and pat the top of his hair, which luckily isn’t covered with a silly metal helmet.

“You’ll always be a squire to me,” you tease, combing your fingers through his hair. Yoongi feigns a glare before wasting no time in stealing a kiss (or three) from you, the two of you pressed up against the carriage, tucked away from sight just like in the good old days.

“And this- Oh!”

You tear away from Yoongi, your cheeks heating as you see a pale Jungkook staring at the two of you in horror as Sowon stands slightly behind him, sending you a look that says, ‘You really couldn’t wait any longer?’

Your eyes are burning holes into the ground as you silently wonder whether kissing a royal guard while kind of engaged to the prince is treason.

“I am so sorry,” you manage, trying to formulate an excuse, but none comes. Yoongi has returned to his knight like stance, acting like a statue and not a lovestruck idiot.

“It’s, uh… It’s fine.” You glance up in surprise as Sowon slips her hand into Jungkook’s, pulling him in the opposite direction.

“Sorry for interrupting!” she calls over her shoulder as she leads her prince away, not noticing his sheepish grin as he stares at their interlocked fingers. “We’re leaving soon so don’t waste too much time…”

As soon as their forms disappear from view, you’re laughing quietly to yourself. After years of sneaking off with Yoongi, it’s still Sowon covering for you. You don’t know if you’ll ever be able to pay her back for everything she’s done for you, big and small, but today is certainly a start.

“So…” Yoongi begins, his hands finding yours. “Did you think any more on what I asked you the other night?” You laugh, resisting the urge to tug him in for another kiss.

“Well, seeing as my chances with the prince have been completely ruined…” Yoongi groans, fingers hovering above your stomach threateningly. You jolt backwards, only to be met with the side of the carriage. “I was joking! Just teasing! Please don’t tickle me.”

The man you’re hopelessly in love with only rolls his eyes, fumbling with the pocket of his pants.

“And I’m trying to be romantic. One of these days I’ll get my revenge for the amount of headaches you give me.” He produces a small box from his pocket, but before he can ask any questions or see the happy tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, you pull him close, pressing your nose into his shoulder. He laughs, quickly reciprocating the embrace.

“Does that mean yes?” he asks. “Because I don’t have the ring yet, the box was a symbolic thing. Unless you like my grandmother’s ring, in which case-” You scoff. A thousand teasing remarks come to your head, but you decide to cut to the chase, not leave him hanging.

“Yes!” You can’t wipe the stupid grins of either of your faces as you pull apart slightly, staring at each other in pure joy.

“Good,” he murmurs. “Because then this would be pretty embarrassing. For you.”

You’re still giggling as the two of you round the carriage hand-in-hand, garnering a few odd glances from the other knights and guards. But instead of quickly jerking your hand away, creating a normal distance as usual, you proudly march up to Yoongi’s horse, let him help you up and lean against his chest as you sit in front of him. Sowon and Jungkook are long in their own world, chatting away about god-knows-what.

As the caravan of carriages and horses rides away, you don’t look back once. You don’t worry about making it back to your mother in time or planning an elaborate explanation to give her to quell her suspicions. Instead, you fully relish in Yoongi’s warmth, teasing him relentlessly and talking about nothing and everything all at once.

You can’t guarantee that it’ll all be easy, that the royal family won’t be royally pissed at you for keeping such a big secret for two weeks. But as the hope of a long life spent with Yoongi and Sowon becomes closer to the truth than ever before, you think you’ll turn out just fine.

#fanfic #bts fanfic #bts scenario #bts fluff #bts angst #yoongi #yoongi fanfic #yoongi scenario #yoongi fluff #yoongi angst #this ended up being a little bit more about OC and cinderella than i intended #but i think i can live with that lol #enjoy :)

[le0watch]

Miss Red and Mister Snow

It's a busy day in the bar as usual. Langa weaves through his many patrons, the smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke filling his nostrils with every breath. If he wasn't already used to this overwhelming mixture of scents, he probably would have thrown up by now. But, in his job, this sort of thing is normal.

The same could be said about the uproarious noise, men and women talking to each other about their days and lives. The music from the jazz band playing loud enough to be heard over the chatter, the clinking of ice and the mixing of beverages. Even the stomping of some tenants' feet.

Langa ignores it all in favor of getting to the front of the usual crowd, finding his reserved table. No one but him and the people of his choosing are allowed to sit here, the very best seat in the entire bar.

Tonight a new group of flapper dancers are coming into preform, after months of negotiation on both ends. Neither wants to be found out or linked back to the other, so they had to sit through many, many discussions. They finally found a day and a way for the group to sneak in without being suspected of anything, and currently, they are getting ready in the backstage area.

They should be out any minute now, which is why Langa is already sitting at his table. He crosses one leg over the other, his recently cleaned black shoes shining in the stage light. He'd slicked his hair back today to keep it out of his face, and he's wearing his favorite blue pinstriped suit, with the matching pair of pants to go with it. He'd like to make a good impression on this group in case he likes them, and would like them to partner up with his bar and business. After all, he does not yet have a regular flapper group that attends his bar even though they've been open for half a year now.

All of the best bootlegging bars have a regular dance group and jazz band. And while Langa has the latter, it's been hard to find a dance group to his liking. He's picky like that.

A moment later, and the lights flicker off. The crowd of people fall silent as the stage lights turn on one by one, revealing a small group of flapper dancers, all with their own colored dress. They're all beautiful in their own right.

But Langa can't look away from the lead dancer, who's dress is a bright red with black stripes going down from the shoulders to their stomach, where a large, intricate pattern is formed. If Langa looks closely, he could see that the pattern slightly forms a hibiscus flower. The black lines continue past this flower design, and create flaps at the bottom of the dress. Orange jewels and gold, hanging sequins decorate the black lines of the dress, and the girl’s hair- redder than her dress- is smoothed back into a bobbed, slick style that is so popular with the ladies right now. A golden band of beads is weaved into her hair, which dangles a little on her face.

She's wearing a pair of golden slippers that open on the top and close around the toes. Even these shoes have red jewels on them on the top of the area her toes would be.

She's standing at the front of the stage, one hand holding a microphone close to her lips, while the other is propped on her propped up hip. She’s smiling, a beautiful sight that Langa wants to take a picture of and hand on his wall. He would even find a way to make the picture colored so he could see her in all of her beauty. Her lips are colored with a brig red lipstick to match her dress, and her lashes are fluffed up by mascara.

“Hello everybody!” she says into the mic, her playful tone evident in her voice. She has a similar lilt as other flapper dancers, that sounds amazing in her voice. The crowd is a mixture of calls and wolfish whistles. They must think she's cute, too. “How are y'all doin’ tonight?”

There's more hooting and clapping from the crowd, cigarette smoke making a thin cloud over the audience. Langa can't stop staring at this flapper; she’s gorgeous.

“Well, that is great to hear!” she continues, flashing a bright grin at the crowd that has basically devolved into a pack of animals from her appearance alone. She seems unphased by it- probably used to this reaction. Langa isn't, though, and he wants nothing more than to punch anyone who so much as looks at her the wrong way. She shouldn't be treated like a piece of meat. “You all can call me Miss Red!” She then looks over at Langa, and does a small curtesy in his direction. He nearly passes out under her gaze. “And I'd like to thank Mister Snow over here for lettin’ us come in tonight.”

Langa nods his head in response, since he doesn't know what else to do. She merely winks at him and he nearly passes out all over again.

Then, Miss Red claps her hands together and backs up into the line of other dancers. The lights brighten to shine off of the sequins and jewels attached to their dresses, and they start their routine, first with the Charleston before moving into the foxtrot.

Langa tries to watch a few of the other dancers, but his eyes keep drifting back Miss Red’s pretty face. She does the unthinkable after a few minutes of dancing; she starts seeing a song, which the jazz band seems to know, as they play along with her voice. Her singing voice is beautiful and powerful, echoing around the clamor of clapping and howling men:

“Now look me over carefully

All dolled up from A to Z

Guess you wonder where I'm gonna go

I'm excited, I'll admit

And you don't know the half of it

I'm gonna meet the one that I love so

Hey, hey, clear the way

Looks like this is my lucky day

I'm gonna meet my sweetie now

I can't be annoyed

Am I happy, am I overjoyed

I'm gonna meet my sweetie now!”

She sings it beautifully, and Langa loves her take on the popular song “I'm Gonna Meet My Sweetie Now”. He may even like it more than the original version, with the way she sings the verses and words, and the way the jazz band is playing as an energetic version of the song.

“Hey-hey-hey, just got through

Manicure and a good shampoo

I'm gonna meet my sweetie now

Yes indeedy, just got a brand new hat

Brand new this and a brand new that

I'm gonna meet my sweetie now

When I think of how his arms come stealin'

I'm so nervous, girls, you know the feelin'

I'm just nearly wild

Come on, mother, and save your child

I'm gonna meet my sweetie now!”

The dancers switch to the scandalous shimmy, causing the hollering from the crowd to double. Their dresses flip this way and that, looping around their thighs and almost rising higher than they should as they dance with a partner, pressing so close that the men cheer. Langa feels his face heat up. He doesn't see the shimmy very often, and to see Miss Red going through the steps makes him hot. It's also banned in most places, so you don't see this style as often as say a black bottom or foxtrot.

Then, Miss Red peels from her partner- a tall, dark woman with piercing eyes- and approaches the microphone once more. She catches her breath before finishing the song:

“That's all!”

The jazz music dies down and every flapper in the group bows, before exiting the stage, even as the crowd calls, “Encore! Encore!” Well, it doesn't seem like they're getting an encore. Instead, they get blown kisses and dainty waves of goodbye.

Langa stands up, because now he has to meet these amazing women (Miss Red) and ask them to become regulars. He could pay them handsomely; he has more than enough money to spare from bootlegging. He slips to the backstage, and follows the twisting of the balls until finds the changing room. He doesn't barge in, just in case they're still changing, but does knock.

The door cracks open, revealing Miss Red’s pretty face. She still has her makeup on and hasn't changed yet, but she does have a pair of pants beneath the skirt. When she sees who it is, she offers a shy smile and courtesies for him once more.

“Mister Snow,” she says in greeting. She slips through the crack she'd made in the door to stand with him in the hall, her hands clasped behind her back politely. “What did you think of the show? Hope it was to your liking.” She winks at him, and Langa could feel himself getting hot all over again.

He clears his throat, and nods his head. “It was amazing,” he replies, keeping his dignity about himself. “And you were especially amazing.”

Miss Red chuckles at him, and he loves the sound. He's starting to love everything about her. “Well I'm glad you think so,” she says airily with another small smile. “Now, what did you need, honey dear?”

‘Honey dear’. Langa is going to lose it. If anyone else had called him that, he would have snapped at them. But it sounds so good when it's coming from Miss Red.

“I was wanting to discuss with your manager about you becoming regulars here at my bar,” he explains, and clasps his hands behind his back. She's a tad shorter than she is, but she holds herself well enough that it's as if she is the same height as him. “Where is he?”

“Right here, darling,” Miss Red answers, taking Langa by surprise. He blinks owlishly at her, shocked by her answer. Usually, a flapper group such as this would have a man in charge to arrange things. Maybe the man they’d sent to the meetings had just been a connection, so that it wouldn't trace back to them. There aren't many women who take charge of this sort of thing, if at all. She smirks at him, resting a hand on her hip. “You look shocked.”

“Well- I'll be honest, I am,” Langa replies hesitantly. “But I find it amazing that you manage your own group. Sorry to have implied you were a man at all.”

She laughs a bit louder than before, like afternoon bells chiming. She covers her mouth with one of her hands, and says, “Not to fear. I am both, after all.”

Once more surprised, Langa gawks at her, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me right,” Miss Red says nonchalantly. “I am both a man, and a woman. I can be whatever you'd want me to be.” She winks at him while saying this last part, and even though he’s saying he's a man, he feels his face heating up all over again.

“So… you go by both male and female?” Langa asks slowly, trying to unravel it in his brain.

“That is correct, darling,” Miss Red says in confirmation. “If that is too strange for you, or changes your opinion of our group, then we shall take our leave once we've received our payment.”

He’s going to enter the dressing room, but Langa reaches out and grabs her wrist before thinking. She pauses, and looks back at him with a raised eyebrow.

“No!” Langa exclaims. “I don't quite yet fully understand it, but my opinion of you and your group has not changed. You are still welcome to become the regular dance group here.”

Miss Red peers at his face, as if trying to see if he's lying. He presses his lipstick painted lips together, before smiling at him once more. That smile is driving Langa insane, just like the rest of her….

“Well then, I'll take your offer up on that,” she says eventually, and slips her hand against his, intertwining their fingers together. Langa’s face becomes so hot he's afraid it's going to melt off. “As long as the pay here is good enough for my girls. We need to make a living, after all.”

“I'll pay you double than the average fee,” Langa replies quickly, and Miss Red’s eyebrows shoot up to her hairline. He smiles, nodding eagerly. “You have my word that your girls will always be safe and taken care of here. And I always keep my word, Miss Red.”

She hums softly, and then brushes her fingertips along the curve of Langa’s cheekbones. He goes still, her touches gentle and featherlight. She leans in close, their breaths mingling. “Well, I wouldn't mind the view out in our crowd, either,” he says, and Langa swallows heavily at how deep his voice has become. This is scandalous, getting so close to a lady after just meeting her, but he can't resist, especially when she’s the one initiating it. “You do have a pretty face, Mister Snow.”

He lets out a breathy laugh, butterflies forming in his stomach. “How can you say that when you're standing in front of me, hm?” he says, deciding to flirt back. Her eyes widen, and he sees a flush of red bloom across her cheeks. Rex really is his color. And it's starting to become Langa’s favorite. “You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.”

“Oh, you're just too much!” she says with laughter, playfully pushing on his chest. He stumbles a little, taken aback by his strength. She covers her mouth once more as she laughs, the red still painting her cheeks. He has freckles, Langa realizes. They just make her appear ever more beautiful. Especially when paired with her shining, honey amber eyes.

Her laughter tapers off, all the while Langa waits patiently for her to finish, softly smiling at her. Miss Red takes notice of this, and snorts softly. “Anyways, Mister Snow, I really must get back to cleaning up. Would you like us to come back tomorrow night, same time?”

“That would be splendid,” Langa replies easily. He catches her hand again, and brings it up to press a kiss to the knuckles. She huffs out a laugh at the action, and when he looks up he’s rolling his eyes. But, that red blush is still on his cheeks, an even darker shade than before. “It was nice to meet you, Miss Red.”

She pauses, before saying, “Do call me Reki, Mister Snow. That's my real name.”

Reki. It fits her.

“Just don't go announcing it everyone you run into, you hear?” she says teasingly, and he quickly nods.

“Of course not, Reki,” he replies. He hesitates for one moment before saying, “And you may call me Langa. Same rules apply.”

Reki smiles at him brightly, taking his breath away all over again. He should ask him out on a date, so he could see her outside of the bar, too. But his jaws lock, words getting stuck in his throat before he could. If Reki was both a man and woman, wouldn't that make him gay? And while he doesn't have a problem against gay people, he's never thought himself to be gay.

“Of course, Langa,” she says, and Langa likes the way he says his name. “Goodnight, darling.”

“And goodnight to you,” he answers, and they nod to one another.

Then, Reki opens the door, a burst of squealing and laughter from the other flappers erupting outside. She giggles, before heading inside, closing the door behind himself.

Langa stares at the door for a few minutes longer, wishing that he could call Reki back and invite him to go out together at some point. Men go out together all the time. It didn't have to be a date.

But his heart is racing too fast, and the thought of asking makes his very breath falter. So instead, he heads back to the bar, ready to start the closing preparations.

#teehee #sk8 #sk8 the infinity #renga #reki kyan #langa hasegawa #my writing #my drabbles #20's au #miss red and mister snow

[lovemesomehwa]

Come To Brazil

Shoyo Hinata

After hearing that the Greatest Decoy had trained in her home country, Y/N just had to find out what his experience was.

Based on: Come To Brazil - Why Don't We

Warnings- cursing, implied nsfw, she/her pronouns

a/n: This took way too long to finish, but I'm back ! This is the first fic I'm basing off a song so I'd highly recommend giving it a listen as you read <3

They were gorgeous, beautiful even. The red sequins sparkled in the light every time they moved. I didn’t notice how revealing it was until they sat down, the low cut complementing their build. I could tell they were nervous, but I couldn’t tell what for. I wasn’t one to talk though, my senses were on fire, leaving me a bit overwhelmed.

I don’t usually tag along on these things, especially not when Atsumu has anything to do with it. But tonight was an exception since it was his birthday. I told myself I was ready but in all honesty, I don’t think anything could have prepared me for this. The music was so loud I swear I felt the house shake. It was packed wall to wall with people, most I didn’t even know he knew. I didn’t even know them and we’ve been teammates for years.

Somehow I made it into one of the less crowded rooms, one of the waiting staff handing me a glass of liquor as soon as I came through the doorway. This one held a different vibe than the others, the music not as loud and you could actually see the floor. It looked like a lounge, the dark velvet couches pushed against the wall making it seem larger than it was. Curtains and solid tapestries covered every inch of wall available. I looked around, trying to find somewhere to sit that wasn’t already taken. Luckily there was a corner piece available that gave me a good view of the room. I took a deep breath and took a sip from my glass, starting to get anxious. I wasn’t one for crowds but one night couldn’t hurt right?

(Y/N) pov.

“Wait really?”

“Yea, he trained there for two years before joining the team. Pretty sure ya would like him, he’s yer type too…” I looked up at Atsumu, eager to learn more about his teammate. “Pretty sure he’s here if ya want to talk to ‘em.” He turned around, his attention shifting onto the next person. I scrunched my nose and walked off, wanting to find this ‘decoy’ ‘Tsumu was talking about. Something about Brazil had piqued my interest in him.

I pushed through the crowd, stumbling a bit from being pushed around. It took four rooms and one awkward intrusion before I finally found him in the lounge. It was definitely less crowded but there was still a good number of people. He seemed unbothered, taking a sip from his glass as he put away his phone and looked up. I made my way over, narrowly avoiding an elbow or two.

“Hinata right?” I spoke up, looking down at him. He smiled brightly and nodded, his mood seeming to change. This wasn’t my first time seeing him, he’s been on countless magazine covers and all over Atsumu’s page; but It was my first time up close. I finally understood why everyone compared him to sunshine. He truly was a ball of light, what with those wide eyes and bright smile, I felt like my heart skipped a beat just from looking at him. I couldn’t help but notice how nicely he cleaned up. His hair was gelled and swooped back, accentuating a fresh looking undercut. The white button up certainly made him stand out against the room's darker colors. I sat down next to him, adjusting my own clothes out of habit.

“I’m sorry, do I know you?” I flashed a smile, shaking my head.

“Afraid not, I’m one of Atsumu’s friends.” I laughed nervously, tucking a stray piece of hair behind my ear. “He was telling me about how you trained for a while in Brazil and since that's where I’m from I wanted to ask you a few questions-if that’s alright with you…”

“No no no, of course it’s okay! I’m actually quite interested in your experience now!” He shifted to face me, accidentally bumping our knees.

Hinata pov.

They were gorgeous, beautiful even. The red sequins sparkled in the light everytime they moved. I didn’t notice how revealing it was until they sat down, the low cut complementing their build. I could tell they were nervous, but I couldn’t tell what for. I wasn’t one to talk though, my senses were on fire, leaving me a bit overwhelmed.

made me more anxious than I already was. I took another sip from my glass, hoping it’ll give me some liquid courage. I felt my throat burn with the aftertaste, making me scrunch my nose.

“So, you first, what do you wanna know?” I looked over at them, locking our gaze.

“Well, what made you choose Brazil in the first place?” I grinned, happy to answer.

“It honestly wasn’t my first choice, initially I had wanted to go to California so I could learn to play on the sand. But I got an offer from a trainer who said he was based in Rio. Next thing I know I’m boarding a plane with nothing but a backpack and my passport!” I explained, chuckling at the memory.

“Woah, that’s so cool! You must’ve had so many offers from professionals who wanted to train right?” Their eyes shone with curiosity. I don’t think they did it on purpose but they got a bit closer, leaning in like it was an interrogation. I rubbed the back of my neck, gulping nervously.

“Well-not really, I didn’t have too many but I was grateful for the ones I did receive. I think one of my favorite things about my training there was how much time I was able to spend outside. The sun there is just so much more intense, it's honestly insane. I did get heat stroke during the first few days though. That was not fun.” I glanced to the side, trying to calm my sudden spike in nerves.

“I’m sure, did you get any sunburns?” They tilted her head, smiling. I nodded, humming and swirling my glass to make a whirlpool effect.

“Oh yeah, definitely.” She didn’t respond after that, instead she looked away. I couldn’t help but stare, admiring the stray hairs that refused to be pinned down. The way the gloss made her lips shine. I had to tear away my gaze before she caught me, but I couldn’t bring myself to. It felt like I was trapped, almost in a trance. It felt like a while had passed before she finally spoke up, turning back to me.

“Do you wanna dance or are you just gonna stare...?” I could feel my face warm up from being caught.

“I- sure…” She smiled, standing up and holding out a hand. I took it and pulled myself up, letting her guide me to the dance floor. I downed the rest of my drink while she led, hoping it would take the edge off. I blinked a few times, not expecting it to be that strong. I set the glass on a staff tray as we passed, not needing it anymore.

She ended up taking me through a couple different rooms before she found one she was satisfied with, if I didn’t know any better I would assume the house was just one giant maze. I couldn’t see much from where we were in the crowd but it was definitely hotter. The lights would alternate between blue, green, and red; similar to the lighting you would find at a rave. The room itself was hot, the temperature definitely warmer than the one we talked in.

We were awkward at first, trying to loosen up was harder than it looked. Whether or not it was the alcohol kicking in or not, I felt bolder, finally able to let go.

(Y/N) pov.

As we danced it felt like the rest of the world melted away, leaving just the two of us. The music was loud, but not as loud as my heart beat thumping in my ear. It only seemed to get faster as time went on, the bass on the speakers making the floor shake. The ghost of his touch left me with goosebumps and a feeling I couldn’t quite shake. I closed my eyes and put my hands up, letting my body move on it's own. In hindsight, that might not have been the best idea, but we were both comfortable enough at this point. When I opened my eyes we were noticeably closer, hardly any space between us as we moved in sync. I smiled at him, his eyes shining back in what little light reached us.

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was music, or maybe it was how I wanted to know what he felt like against me. I dunno how it happened, but there we were, skin to skin in the middle of the dance floor with his lips on mine.

I looped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer as I felt his hands drift lower on my waist. Our lips moved in sync as our bodies swayed, keeping with the tempo of the music that's just now starting to fade back in. Everything suddenly came to focus once I felt a cold slick down my back. I pulled away instantly, suddenly sober. I turned around, coming face to face with Atsumu while a disheveled Hinata stood behind me.

"You asshat, what was that for?!" The asshat in question laughed, swirling a clear glass filled with ice and what I had assumed was alcohol.

"Ya two were maken' a scene, if yer gonna kiss, do it in a bathroom or at least not in the middle of my floor!" Atsumu disclosed, smiling smugly and strutting off into the crowd. I turned back to the small ginger and smiled upon seeing his eyes quickly look up from where they were.

"You up for round two?" I ventured carefully. He grinned and grabbed my hand, nimbly leading me as we bobbed and weaved our way back through the dance floor, headed toward what I could only guess was one of the bathrooms.

I stared at myself in the mirror, smoothing out my clothes as if I wasn't just on my knees. Hinata watched as I fixed myself, slightly dizzy. I grinned, eyeing him as he sat, legs still spread from where I had been not five minutes ago. I hesitated before asking him a question as he fixed his hair.

"You got a pen?" He looked at me quizzically before reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out a green ink joy pen. "Hand please~" I took his wrist and turned it over, writing my number on it in thick green ink. He took it back and read the numbers, mumbling them under his breath.

"What's this for…?" He asked, tilting his head. I couldn't help but giggle at his stupidity.

"It's my number idiot, call me if you're ever back in Brazil. That way we can do this again sometime…" I ruffled his hair before unlocking the door and stepping through. "Maybe then you'll get a real welcome~"

#haikyuu!! #hinata x reader #hinata shoyo #haikyuu x reader #oneshot #haikyuu hinata #hinata imagine

[gothgirlmahi]

Pull

Summary: Thor really likes when you play with his hair. Neither of you mind the moment being watched.

Warnings: Smut, male masturbation (in public sorta), voyeurism, Thor being perfect

Well practiced fingers threaded deftly through your lover’s hair as you braided it. A movie neither of you was paying attention to played on the TV screen on low volume. Thor was sitting on the floor between your legs, eyes closed in contentment while you did his hair. You were completely focused in your task, weaving together the small braids you often put in his blond locks.

It was a bit of a ritual for you all. A calming and intimate scene. Doing his hair was a way of showing your affection, showing how much you loved every part of him. It made you feel special, being the only one allowed to get your hands in that pretty mane. On his end, it made him feel like you cared. Being taken care of wasn’t a feeling he got often, but you were always able to provide that peace of mind for him.

Thor murmured something below you and the only words you could make out were “my love.” You hummed happily and finished off another braid. Your fingers stroked through his hair and to his scalp, scratching lightly, before you moved to section off another area of his hair. When you tugged to pull the strands together, a groan left Thor’s throat.

“Do you like that, baby?” you spoke softly to him, your voice barely a whisper. The lights in the room were low, bathing him in an almost golden light while you admired his form.

His top half was bare. His warm skin pressed against your legs, making you feel even closer to him. The lower half of his body was covered by low riding jeans, the kind the kind you were always ready to pull off of him.

“You know I like it,” he said back to you, a jovial lift in his voice. You had to smile. Making him feel good made you feel good.

As you continued, Thor made little noises of pleasure. Movement of his hand caught your attention and you looked down to see him palming himself through his jeans.

“You really like it,” you said. Thor didn’t say anything, but he turned to press a kiss to your inner thigh. His warm breath hit your skin in a small sigh. He unbuttoned his jeans and slid his hand in.

For a moment, you almost forgot you were in the common room. A very public area your teammates could walk into at any time. Slips of the mind like that were common when it came to you and Thor. Just his presence always seemed to send you somewhere else.

“We could go to bed,” you suggested. Thor shook his head.

“I want to stay right here. With your hands in my hair.”

You finished another braid and put it to the side. With both hands, you curled your fingers against his scalp and started massaging. Thor’s head fell to lean on your thigh while he touched himself.

“We’ll get caught,” you warned him. But you didn’t really care. You were too mesmerized by the euphoric expression on his face. Thor shook his head, reaching to push his pants down further, just enough to pull his cock out.

“It’s late,” he said, voice low and attractive.

Your heart rate picked up and you bit your lip, watching him intensely. His hand wrapped around his thick shaft and your mind grew foggy with lust.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” you murmured.

Thor was right. It was nighttime. The others typically only came here during the day. You would probably be fine.

You cursed, looking down at your hands. The braid you worked on was uneven, courtesy of your wandering eyes. You unraveled it quickly and made another part. Thor let out a light groan as your fingers danced on his scalp. It was hard to pay attention to braiding, so you stopped. Opting instead to run your fingers across his hairline while your other hand traced down his jaw.

With a tug of your hand, Thor’s head was thrown back in your lap. His mouth parted slightly in pleasure as he jacked off. You were in awe, watching both of his hands twist around his thick shaft.

He was too perfect. Like he was carved with intent from a slab of marble. Even his cock was pretty. Every movement of his was sure and strong. Godly. There was never a time when you didn’t desperately want him. Even now your thighs squirmed are the thought of what he could do to you. The dampness in your panties was a reminder of the countless times he had taken you, made you see galaxies far beyond what any mortal man could accomplish.

As much as you wanted him, you wouldn’t interrupt a show this good.

Your eyes were drawn to a change of light at the doorway and your breath caught in your chest. Even in the low light, you could see Clint was there. Just watching. He didn’t look especially scandalized or shocked. Just...intrigued. The two of you made quick eye contact before you looked back at Thor.

His eyes were closed, enraptured in bliss. You weren’t sure if he saw Clint. Thor’s grip was tight as he fisted his cock, deep grunts rumbling in his chest while one hand caressed his balls. From this position you could admire the curve of his lips and could imagine how red and kiss swollen they usually were when you all had sex. The muscles of his arms contracted and stretched beautifully with every move of his hands.

You pulled his hair, hard. His back arched away from you in the throes of pleasure. You looked back at Clint, who was relaxed as he stood in the doorway, simply watching.

“Baby, I love watching you stroke that thick cock. You’re doing so good. I love you so much.”

Thor let out a moan that sounded something like your name, muffled into the skin of your thigh. His hands worked faster, circling around the head of his cock and twisting. His moans grew louder, almost into growling. You could tell he was close.

One of your hands was still in his hair, playfully pulling. The other traced down his jawline again and until it was wrapped around his neck. You put a bit of pressure on his throat.

“Harder,” he gasped out. You nodded, pressing even harder to appease him.

“Are you gonna cum for me, baby? I want you to cum all over your hands. Make it messy for me,” you stared directly at Clint as you spoke, “and maybe when you’re done I’ll clean you up with my mouth.”

Clint let out a barely audible gasp at your words, before his eyes were on Thor, who was steadily falling apart. The soft waves of his hair tickled your legs while his head thrashed around. You tightened your hand around his neck and his hips jerked up unsteadily into his grip.

His blue eyes open slowly, staring at you intently.

“Pull my hair,” he demanded in his deep lustful voice. You couldn’t help but listen, twisting your fingers through the strands and pulling harder than all the other times. The strangled moan that escaped his lips had you gasping. Hot white cum seemed to pour out of him, covering his hand, himself and the floor. His thighs shook as he came, wringing every last ounce out of his cock. It seemed to be never ending. He kept stroking himself, until the spurts of cum finally stopped.

Thor looked up at you, breathless from his orgasm. You pressed a kiss to his lips. Both of you looked to the doorway, now empty.

“I wonder if our friend enjoyed the show,” Thor said, a playful smile gracing his face. You stroked his cheek softly.

“I’m sure he did.”

#thor x reader #thor odison x reader #thor x you #clint barton #marvel x reader #marvel

[nvalentino]

𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 {𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬} • 𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐨

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: this is my way of putting the story of two against the world into my own style and fixing things that bug me about the game. This is in no way meant to diminish the writer’s work, but everyone has different taste. 

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2k+

Movies have always been my escape. A way to distance me from a crumbling economy and stressful days at work- something simple. There’s nothing quite like mindlessly inhaling popcorn in the dark, alone with no one to judge you. All the while staring at an enormous silver screen for two hours straight. I love that it’s a world away from my own. 

My town’s movie theatre isn’t much, but she’s got character. Sat on the corner two run-down cross streets, her paint- peeled walls crawling with thick vines and the crooked marquee sign whose lights don’t work has almost become a second home. So when I heard she was hosting an all-night crime movie marathon, I’ve never bought a ticket faster in my life.

When I show up to the theatre, there’s a line wrapped around the block and they’re all dressed as mobsters, Femme Fatales, wise guys... these are my people. I look up at the marquee, which reads: ‘FILM MARATHON: ALL NIGHT GANGSTERS.’ 

My heart nearly jumps from my chest. I’d been waiting all week for this, for my break. I finally reach the front of the line, and I’m greeted by Murray, the owner of the place. I think he’s been hunched behind that ticket booth since Bogart ruled the box office. 

“What’s a looker like yourself doing here alone on a Friday evening?” It’s always the same. No matter how many times it seems I show up in his lobby- Murray always forgets me. It’s lovely to know I’m so memorable. 

“Are you ever alone when you have the characters on screen?” I keep my tone light and teasing. Can’t be cruel to Murray- bit like roundhouse kicking a puppy.

“You look familiar, you a regular here?” Ah, there it is. Scratch my previous statement, I’m at least a little important. Guess all those hours spent in front of him’s paying off.

“That I am.” I rest an arm on the counter, an even smile on my face. Murray leans closer, getting a better look at me. I’m all too used to all his antics by now, and smiling is the easiest way to get alone.

“And your name is?” Can’t have everything in life, I suppose, and, as lovable as he is, he hasn’t been all there for the better part of a decade. 

“Murray, it’s me, {Y/N}.”

“Oh, right,” he smiles, straightening back to look me over. “Why didn’t you say so? You know my eyes ain’t what they used to be.” I have to hold back a laugh, but it’s easily covered with a large grin. “I didn’t take you for a fan of gangster movies.”

This time, an amused scoff passes my lips. Resting my hip against the counter I feign an offended look, “It’s like you don’t even know me anymore, Murray. I love gangster movies.” 

“So do I, kid. The slick-talking, the high drama, the whirlwind romances.” A wistful look crosses his eyes, like that of a family member flicking through family photo albums reminiscing about the old days- then his face clears up. “Speaking of romance, where’s your date?”

Talk about beating a dead horse. I nearly always turn up alone to the movies- no matter how much I’d like to have someone to bring. But I come the same way each time- all by myself. “I just told you. I fly solo. I don’t need a wingman. Besides, why bring a date when you have the company of the beautiful people on the big screen.”

A look of concern washes over Murray’s face- something much unlike anything I’ve seen on him before like he was deep in thought. “Fair enough. A movie star will be your date tonight, then.”

“Exactly,” I laugh. “Now, can you let me in?”

“Can you show me your ticket?”

I reach into my pocket, eager to get inside so I can buy a box of popcorn and soda. But my pocket’s empty. Oh, god no. I reach into my other pocket. And to my absolute shock, there’s nothing inside but lint and a cracked phone. Instantaneously, I’m checking everywhere: coat pockets, shirt pockets, back pockets- each and every one of them like the last: empty. My heart sinks- I lost the ticket. Only me. I nervously read my surroundings. A line of impatient movie-goers behind me, an elderly ticket-take in front of me, and a sign in big bold letters that hangs above him. Tonight’s showing: Sold Out.

“Your ticket, please?”

“Oh, god, Murray- I-I can’t find it,” my hands glide over every pocket again- desperately trying to find some trace of the ticket.

I feel a lump burning in my throat and a wet gloss beginning to coat my eyes. If losing my ticket wasn’t bad enough- feeling the burning stares of the long line behind me is tipping my scale. “I’m sorry, dear. I’m not sure what I can do. We’re all sold out.”

My eyes fall to my feet as murmurs sound from behind me, doing my best to hold back the disappointment and embarrassment boiling over. “Right. My fault.” My cheeks feel hot, my entire body’s burning. I can’t believe it. A week’s worth on excitement drained out of me in a matter of seconds.

Just as I take a step away from the counter- Murray calls my name. “Hold on. Maybe there’s something I can do.” I turn around, and Murray looks at me with a sceptic’s eye. “You really want a date with a movie star tonight, do you?”

“Yes. Please, I can’t tell you how long I’ve been looking forward to this.” My pride’s the last thing on my mind, focusing solely on pleading with the man in front of me.

He reads my expression, seeming to gaze straight through me, and then he straightens out his vest. “You’re positive?”

“Murray, I’ve never been more positive about anything in my life.” Okay, drama queen- dial it back a bit.

“Very well.”

“One of my customers cancelled their reservation last minute. And they were very important. From Hollywood. You can take their place if you’d like.” And with those words, my face is overtaken with joy.

“Wow, Murray, thank you so much.”

Murray retrieves a golden ticket stub from the booth, and it sparkles underneath the glow of the marquee. He rips the stub in two and hands me the other end. Something in his eyes sparkles like he knows something that I don’t. “Choose your adventure wisely, kid. It’s almost showtime.”

For a moment, I’m captivated by the ticket- the grumbling line behind me forgotten. Admit One has never felt so... special. I stride past Murray, toward the doors to the lobby, the sweet smell of salted buttered popcorn pulling me inside.

But when I waltz inside, everything about the rundown movie theatre is different. The sticky floors have been replaced by slick velvet carpeting. A grand staircase sits where the pinball machine used to be. Thick red curtains have replaced the shredded B-Movie posters. And the people around me are dressed like they’re from a ball in the 1920′s. This room alone could buy all the places I’ve ever lived. This isn’t my theatre. The dimensions aren’t even correct. I’m either hallucinating or this is all a dream. Either way, I’m spooked. I’ve got to get out of here.

I pivot back to the door and yank at the handle. But it won’t budge. I can feel my heart bursting from my chest. Everything feels so real- there’s no way I’m dreaming. I wrap both hands around the handle this time, clutching the ironclad door. But it’s completely seals shut. Okay. Don’t Panic. There has to be an explanation. For why... for how... for how I’ve been magically transported to a movie palace from the early twentieth century. Just hearing myself think that makes me light-headed. This can’t be real.

I turn around once again, and in my delirium, I see a sharply dressed man eyeing me from amongst the crowd. His angelic smile looks like it’s worth a million bucks, and his eyes are like none I’ve ever seen in person. The colour of honeyed whiskey and unbelievably sharp. This only happens in the movies. He only exists in the movies. One of the crime flicks about the Roaring Twenties. But I can’t place exactly which one. With a sly wink, he confidently turns away from me and moves through the crowd.

Intrigued, and left with little other options, I follow him. But he’s elusive. I walk faster, but the faster I walk- the further away he seems to be. He reaches for an expansive, gold-plated door. And before I can even call out to him, he’s on the other side of it. Oh, come on.

I hurry my pace, clumsily weaving my way between the other guests until I reach the door myself. Without so much as a thought, I pull the door open and step into a buzzing room packed with boozy patrons dancing to the boisterous symphonies of Broadway jazz. I watch in amazement as women in sequin flapper dresses do the Charleston with men suited up in black tuxedos. Unless I’m mistaken, I’d say I’ve just stepped foot in a rowdy speakeasy from the jazz age.

Am I dreaming? I must be dreaming. I pinch myself. Ouch. Not dreaming. I turn my attention to the crowded bar, its customers getting tipsy on saccharine highballs. If there’s one thing I need right now, it’s a glass of something strong. I move swiftly to the stool studded counter.

“What’ll it be?” The bartender, a bow-tie clad man whose greying hair is slicked back from his forehead, asks.

“Oh- uh, what are my options?” He points to a chalkboard behind him, which has the names of several drinks etched into its surface. Fuck. I should’ve paid more attention to the drinks featured in all the movies I watch because I have no idea what any of these mean. 

“She’ll have a Gin Rickey with a dash of syrup.” The words come from behind me, saving my breath. “And I’ll be having an Old Fashioned, old-timer.”

The mystery man pulls a glistening silver case from his jacket pocket as the bartender begins synthesizing our drinks. He flips open the case revealing a handful of perfectly rolled cigarettes inside. How do you talk to a man from an entire century ago? Especially one so... gorgeous. Don’t reference memes. Easier said than done.

“Care for a smoke?” He flashes that five-star smile at me again as he retrieves a matchbook from his coat. I shake my head- mind racing. Don’t mess up, don’t mess up, down mess up...

“Where am I?” Way to go- not crazy at all. Definitely, something a completely normal and functioning human being would ask. 

“You don’t know where you are?”

You’ve fucked up- own it, but try and keep your stupid contained. You’re supposed to be wooing him- not scaring him off. “Not exactly.”

The man ignites a match, the flicker of a flame painting his face in moving shadows as he lights the cigarette. He returns his silver case and the matchbook to his jacket pocket. “You tell me your name and I’ll tell you where you are.”

“{Y/N}.” So far so good. My mind is still reeling- eyes combing over every inch of the room- trying to find a sign, anything, to prove that this is all real. “I’m dreaming. Aren’t I?” The sudden sensation of being spun around takes over my body.

“If this is a dream, I don’t ever want to wake up.” I feel my cheeks warm at the words, at least one of us is articulated. “The names Nicky. Nicky Valentino.” Nicky brings my wrist to his lips, pressing a kiss to the top of my hand. I swear I can feel my soul departing

“Charming as you may be, I’m not from here-” my already jumbled sentence gets interrupted by the bartender. He places the candied, kaleidoscopic drinks before us. Nicky slips the man two bills, then looks at me with those mischievous hazel eyes.

“Cheers.”

I hesitatingly clink my glass with his and place the cold drink to my bottom lip. I take one sip and my mouth contorts with the overwhelming taste of tart. “Right- so as I was saying.” My tongue feels dry, tight as I glance around the room once more. Think, think. 

“Doesn’t take a wisehead to know you ain’t from New York.” Even with my own tense posture, all his words hold a lilt of teasing.

“Yeah. But I don’t think I’m supposed to be here.” What do you even say? ‘Hey, I’m not just out of state, I’m out of century.’ I don’t know how that’d go over, but I’m imagining not well.

“Of course you’re supposed to be here,” it’s a good thing I’m not standing because the look on his face is enough to buckle my knees. “You’re the person of my dreams, and this is my dream, right?” His honeyed and soft words do loosen my shoulders- but I can’t help my tangled mind.

“Okay. How can I explain this... I’m not even from your...” Right words, right words. “Your... dimension” Could be better. 

“So, like from upstate?” I have to hold back a scoff- he’s a total dork. Nicky coyly grins to himself, expression morphing into one I’ve only ever seen on a silver screen. “Can you pinch me? ‘Cause now I know I’m dreamin’.“

The tightness in my shoulders dissipates as I laugh at the remark. If there’s one thing he’s exceptional at- it’s being annoyingly charismatic. “I’m still not sure I can explain this right. Do you like going to the movies?”

“Yeah. I like the ones about wise guys, car chases, and the ride or die sidekicks.” Fitting.

“W-well... it’s- it’s... it’s like everything became a... a movie for me.” How in the world do you word this? “You’re like a-”

“A movie star?” I nod, and he considers this like it isn’t the slightest bit absurd. He exhales a thin stream of smoke from his lips then chases it with a sip of the Old Fashioned. “Listen, if it’s a movie, you gotta know some things. This movie is fast, it’s dangerous. Until about five minutes ago, all I wanted was the entire world and I wanted it all to myself.”

“And now?”

“Now I still want the world. But I want it for two.” Between the alcohol and the compliments, my head is spinning in the best way possible. Nicky was right: if this is a dream, then keep the damn lights off.

“That’s very poetic of you, F. Scott.” Everything about him is magnetic, drawing me closer with each word. I can’t help myself but lean in.

“You forgot my name already? It’s Nicky.”

Lord, he’s definitely a dork. “No it’s- never mind.” Nicky places his hand into the pocket inside his coat and pulls out a thin black jewellery case.

“I want you to have something.” He cracks open the case, and inside sits a breathtaking diamond bracelet with enough shimmering carats to blind me. It’s excessive. It’s perfect.

“Nicky, what is this?” I train my eyes on him, trying my best to get a read on him, but he’s impossible. 

“Do me a favour. Just try it on.”

“I can’t... I’ve only just met you. And-” 

My argument is cut short with a raise of his eyebrows, “I’m a movie star, right? So why not play the part. You can’t take it off soon as you finish your drink.” I let my eyes fall back to the case, combing over the bracelet.

“I may never finish my drink.” The words tumble past my lips with little thought- nearly catching myself off guard with the brashness.

“I’m counting on it.” I watch as Nicky removes the bracelet from the case, fingertips brushing my skin as he cuffs it delicately around my wrist.

“So, what’s your game, Nicky?”

“My game?” He seems confused by the inquiry, but I can’t think of a reasonable time someone would fork over something so expensive to a total stranger.

“Yeah. What do you want from me?” Nicky stares at the strand of diamonds that fits perfectly around my wrist. I suddenly feel off- like I’d overstepped an unspoken boundary. “It’s a fair question considering five minutes after meeting me you’re giving me diamonds. Usually, guys wait to the third date for that.”

“I’m setting my price.”

“Your price?” Baffled by the words, my eyebrows knit together, “your price for what?”

“Leaving it all behind.” Shoulders dripping, I scan over his face. He’s just as unreadable as before. What does it mean? Leaving it all behind. Nicky only offers a warm smile, like he can read mind and in his eyes, I catch a glint of sincerity behind the bravado. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I have somewhere to be.”

“You’re kidding?” I scoff.

“We’ll be in touch. I guarantee it.” I can’t even protest, Nicky gets up from his stool and walks away. 

“No, Nicky- you’re not- you can’t leave me with this bracelet!” My protest is futile, falling to deaf ears. He’s already a third the way to a far door. “Nicky!” But he either can’t hear me or doesn’t want to hear me. “Damn it!” Once again, Nicky eludes me as he finesses his way between guys and dames.

This time, I’m not letting him get away from me. I leap out of my seat, and the barstool nearly crashes to the floor as I hurry after him. I knock into a couple in the throes of a drunken kiss, interrupting what would have been a perfect moment. I collect my footing and peer ahead. Nicky is more than halfway now.

I’m a foot from the couple before a hand circles my wrist, spinning me on my heel to find a man already a few drinks deep. “Where you goin’, sugar?” His breath reeks. 

“I-I... gotta,” his fingers are curled into the bracelet. “Let me...” I wrench myself free from him, stumbling back into another drunken couple standing behind me, “go.”

As Nicky’s hand wraps around the door handle, I take off, leaving the man and couples in my rearview. Just as I get within spitting distance, he pushes the door open. I reach out for him, grabbing a hold of his wrist before he can take another step. Feeling my grip, Nicky spins around to face me. The door slams shut behind him. A brash grin enveloping his face.

“You’ve done good, kid.”

“What do you mean? Was this some kind of test?”

“If it was, how do you think you did?”

“I’m not sure the type of person who wants to test me is the kind of person I want to be around.” Nicky lays his eyes on my hand, which is still tightly gripping his wrist.

“You sure about that, toots?” Instantly, my skin goes hot from embarrassment. I quickly retract my hand from his. He’s so frustratingly sauve.

“I’m- I’m sure.”

“Hold on, I didn’t say you should let go.”

“You didn’t need to.” Nicky inches closer to me, interlocking his fingers with mine.

“{Y/N}, I was only teasing. I don’t want you to let go.” He grasps my hand as if letting go would mean he’d lose a part of himself, a lifeline. “In my world, the less people you keep close, the less chance you have at getting hurt. But... you’re not from my world, right? So maybe there’s room for an exception.”

I squeeze his hand tighter, our hands clasped together in an unspoken devotion. I look up into Nicky’s eager eyes, and then at his lips before asking, “you want me to be your exception?”

“That’s right.” Nicky lets go of my hand and turns away from me. “Follow me.” He pushes the door open, enthusiastically walking into another sizable group of strangers outside. As I follow Nicky out of the room, he’s gone from sight. And so is everyone else. 

I’m back in the movie theatre lobby- my movie theatre. The place is completely empty, and an eerie quiet has set over the room. I pace a few steps until I’m smack dab in the centre of the room. And now that I’m back to my world, I’m already longing for the adventure promised by the other. And my hand’s feeling awfully empty. So is my wrist. The bracelet. Fuck. I’ve had the damn thing for forty seconds and it’s already been nicked.

“Is someone going to explain all this to me? What the hell is going on?” Then, a hand taps me on the shoulder. “Whoa!” I yelp, startled at the other presence in the room. “Murray! Jesus, you nearly gave me a heart attack.” 

“What’d ya think, kid?”

“The movie. What’d ya think about my movie?”

“Murray! You knew about all- all this?”

“I know what goes on in my theatre.” Murray momentarily looks down and polishes a brass button on his coat. “I’ve been showing movies for the better part of my life, and I know when I see a movie star. You, my friend, are a movie star. The question is: are you ready for your close-up?”

“What... what do you mean?” Everything is hitting me at once. That really wasn’t a dream.

Murray inhales with pride as he observes his theatre. “There are many theatres in this joint, all playing crime films from the great American eras. You’ve been fortunate enough to see the trailer for one, but did it suit you?” He places a hand on my shoulder, and we walk to the entrance of the first theatre. “Is the ostentatious world of Gatsby’s New York, of raucous speakeasies and illegal rum-running in the roaring twenties your adventure?”

He turns to look at me, kind eyes shining with expectancy. My heart rate jumps at the question, giddy for the prospect of adventure but anxious for the consequences. No movie is perfect. “I can just... be a part of it?”

“For now.”

“What about this world? The real world?”

“You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t want to escape. Besides, who’s to say what’s real and what’s not.” Murray smiled a wistful and weathered smile. Like what I pictured a clock would smile, full of known and unknown. “What’d you say, kid?”

 He’s right, I’d be fooling myself if I said otherwise. I want this- I think I’ve always wanted something like this. With a calming breath and a final look around the theatre, I nod. “Yes.”

“Very good, your co-stars are waiting inside.” Murray steps aside, gesturing to the door. “Enter whenever you feel ready.” 

“No time like the present.” I take another deep gulp of air, trying to silence my screaming heart rate. I’m not dreaming. This is real.

“But remember, this is a cinema: once the movie begins, there’s no rewind button.” Thanks, no pressure. I’m nervous, to say the least- but this is what I’m supposed to be doing. I proceed into the movie theatre entrance, its double doors awaiting my arrival. I push open the doors and walk into my starring role.

Lights. Camera. Action. Two Against the World.

#fictif #two against the world #nicky valentino #fictif nicky #fictif two against the world #nicky valentino x mc #nicky valentino x reader

[cyberhwas]

➳ pairing/characters: hercules! mingi x reader, wooyoung as terpishchore (muse of dance), seonghwa as erato (muse of love poetry), hongjoong as euterpe (muse of music), jongho as polyhymnia (muse of hymns), yeosang as thalia (muse of comedy), san as clio (muse of history), yunho as urania (muse of astronomy) 

➳genre: fluff, greek mythology au, inspired by hercules (the animated disney film), romance, angst, mutual pining, denial of feelings (reader is very stubborn hehe) 

➳ tw: mentions of death, slight violence, light swearing, soul-selling, servitude, mentions of bullying (nothing too intense)   

➳ disclaimer: may contain slight inaccuracies concerning dates, i also changed the story a little bit to make it a less bit intense, so there won’t be anything like what happened in the movie, which is honestly a bit intense? i mean, hercules goes to the underworld and retrieves meg’s soul after she gets crushed by a boulder so i won’t be including that outcome in this series. 

➳ rating: m, 18+

➳ wc: 5.8k

➳  summary:  after your first relationship had ended quite tragically, love was the last thing on your mind. however, after countless encounters with song mingi, the beautiful hero, being open to love again seemed possible.

 ➳ note: this was originally supposed to be a drabble, but i guess it’s a mini fic series now? oops? anyways, i hope you all enjoy this, and, as always, feedback is always appreciated💖!! i adore all of you so much and i hope all of you are staying safe and drinking lots of water!! please take care of yourselves my loves!! also this is my first time posting a fic on this blog, so it’s lowkey nerve-wracking but here goes nothing! 

“it’s too cliché, i won’t say i’m in love.” - megara (hercules, 1997)

( june 1, 1300 b.c.e) 

you sighed, wringing out your wet hair, gaze shifting to the muscular male a few feet away, whose cheeks were flushed with pink and looked quite embarrassed. “s-sorry about that.” he mumbled, blush deepening. despite that fact that you had just gotten splashed with water, you couldn’t help but let out an amused laugh. “don’t worry about it, wonder boy. besides, you saved me from the nessus, after all.” 

he laughed softly at the nickname,  hand rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “it was nothing, really.” you rolled your eyes, fingers combing through your damp hair, ridding it of tangles. “you are too humble, wonder boy.” “i-it’s mingi, actually.” “hmm, it suits you, but i think i like wonder boy better.” you smirked, trying not to laugh at how flustered said male was, turning a shade equally as red as his hair. 

 out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a flash of pink and green, as well as a tendril of black smoke, and tried not to grimace at the sight. “well, i better go. thanks for saving me, wonder boy.” you turned to go, ignoring the dread pooling in your stomach at having to talk with hades again. “wait, can i at least get your name?” mingi blurted, stopping you in your tracks. you glanced over your shoulder, making sure to keep your expression as neutral as possible. “it’s y/n.” and with that, you disappeared into the heart of the woods, ignoring the erratic beating of your heart. 

you braced yourself for the annoying lecture you were going to receive from the god of death himself, watching as he took physical form, tendrils of black smoke filling the air. a few seconds later, hades stood in front of you; his two minions standing attentively at his side. “y/n, how was your first meeting with wonder breath?” “fine.” hades frowned. “that’s it?” “nothing, you know, dramatic happen?” you tried not to roll your eyes at how clueless hades was acting, as if he wasn’t the one that summoned the monster in the first place. “the monster grabbed me, i pretended to act like a damsel in distress, wonder boy saved me; i got splashed with water, that’s about it.” “so, he didn’t, you know, show a weakness that might help me defeat him?” 

“no, wonder boy’s as strong and unbeatable as they say.” hades’ dark eyes narrowed. “we’ll see about that.” he murmured, and you ignored the uneasy feeling in your stomach. “good work today, y/n. once wonder boy falls for you, then we can find out what exactly can break him.” you swallowed against the bile rising in your throat, and managed a weak nod. 

“don’t forget the deal we made.” you resisted the urge to scowl at the way hades’ lip curled at your reaction. 

centuries ago, you were a completely different girl, romantic and open to love. you had fallen in love with your then boyfriend at the time, only to have him taken away from you, permanently. a sickness had plagued the small village you lived in at the time, and your boyfriend had been unfortunate enough to succumb to the deadly illness, and died just a week after he had contracted it. you were desperate and heartbroken, and then during one rainy day, hades had appeared before you, offering you a deal. he would revive your boyfriend, but only if you would sell your soul to him, as well as promising years of servitude. agreeing to such a deal would be foolish and unorthodox, especially for a dead lover, but because your heart and mind were so broken, you had agreed to hades’ terms. 

hades had summoned a scroll and a black feather quill, and thus, your soul had been signed away. the god of the underworld had kept his word and revived your lover, but he had soon ripped your heart out by leaving you for another woman. you had never felt so foolish in your life, and from that day on, you swore off love, and built walls around yourself, refusing to let anyone in, afraid of suffering the same fate you had with your first love. 

“you’re my servant, don’t forget that. and what i tell you to do, you do it, unless you want to be thrown in tarturus, or maybe suffer the same fate as him?” you fought the urge to punch hades in his horrifyingly gorgeous face as you shook your head, careful not to let your anger show. “i don’t have any complaints.” hades smiled, seemingly pleased. “good, you know what to do, with wonder breath then?” you nodded, tearing your gaze away from his dark, soulless, eyes. 

hades gave you a mock wave as he disappeared in a cloud of black smoke. when you were finally alone, you collapsed onto the soft, green grass, burying your face into your hands, sobbing. 

(months later) 

you allowed yourself a small smile at the dainty, white flower in your hand, the sweet-smelling petals invading your senses; the petals soft and velvety against your fingertips. it was a particularly beautiful day, with the sun shining brightly above you, the sky cloudless and a gorgeous shade of light blue. there was even a small breeze that tickled your skin and hair,  fresh air washing over you, relieving you from the otherwise unbearable heat. you were sitting on a stone bench in a garden, enjoying the great weather and admiring the flower in your hand. it’d been nearly four months since you had begun to flirt with mingi, and there were days where you had forgotten the reason you were talking to him in the first place. mingi was not only unbelievably gorgeous, with fiery red hair and forest green eyes that turned into crescents whenever he smiled, but he was also unfailingly sweet, gracious, humble, clumsy, and polite. 

mingi would also turn an adorable shade of pink whenever you would compliment him, rubbing the back of his neck shyly. you also tried your best not to stare at his arms, which were corded with muscle, as they were quite distracting. 

and over the past few months, you had found yourself becoming more and more intrigued and infatuated with mingi, of which you couldn’t help but scold yourself for. there was a part of you that was convinced the sweet words he spoke so often were sincere, but then there was also the part of you that thought otherwise. after all, your last lover had left you to wallow in your own sadness, without so much as a goodbye, even after you had sacrificed so much for him to be able to live again. 

suddenly, annoyance coursed through you and you threw the flower over your shoulder in disgust, not bothering to see where it landed. “y/n, seriously? you’re throwing away a perfectly good flower? it’s like you don’t even care about nature.” you fought the urge to roll your eyes. “wooyoung, i didn’t throw it away, i just carelessly tossed it.” “uh huh, sure.” you couldn’t fight the fond smile that tugged at your lips as you turned to look at the muse, who was standing behind you, mock disapproval on his face. beside him, a tall, silver haired male scoffed and smacked him lightly on the shoulder. “would you quit being a pain in the ass, woo?” seonghwa scolded good naturedly. aforementioned male pouted, the gesture nearly childlike. “you’re so mean seonghwa-hyung.” the older rolled his eyes, expression brightening upon seeing you. “hey, y/n, how’s everything?” you shrugged, ignoring how wooyoung’s hazel eyes narrowed in suspicion. “alright, how is everyone?” “oh, you know, being a pain in my ass, as always.” 

“ignore him, he’s been having writer’s block and has been moping about it for days, so he’d taking out all his pent-up anger on us by being a mother hen all the time.” “kim hongjoong, you better shut it right now before i throw you into tarturus.” 

said muse giggled, head popping out from behind a tall tree, blue hair falling in strands across his forehead. “hi!” hongjoong called out from his hiding place, small hand waving in greeting. “hi , joong, it’s nice to see you!” “likewise!” “what are you doing over there?” “o-oh, i was picking flowers, i was going to weave them into a flower crown.” hongjoong mumbled shyly, a light shade of pink settling across his cheekbones, and you couldn’t help but smile fondly at the sight. 

“you’re adorable.” “am not. i am older than you, you know.” “yes, but you’re as intimidating as a baby bunny.” “shut up, i am not adorable!” “fine, fine, whatever you say, joong.” “i hate you.” “aw, i love you too.” 

hongjoong sighed as he stepped out from behind the tree, a bunch of pink flowers in his hand, settling down on a patch of grass a few feet away, setting to work on his crown. “if any of you dare to annoy me while i do this, i will bite you.” “wow, cannablism much, hyung?” “san, shut up.” “wow, hyung, you’re so cruel! i just got here and you’re already insulting me!” “san, i swear to zeus, you better shut your mouth and let me weave this gods-damned flower crown before i strangle you.” “damn, someone has a-” “san, would you please just stop being a pain in the ass and listen?” “ok, ok, fine.” san plopped down on the ground next to wooyoung, who was busy admiring the flower in his hand, violet eyes shifting towards you, a smile breaking out on his gorgeous face, dimples indented in his cheeks. “y/n! i haven’t seen you in a millennia! how are things?” “alright, how are you?” “oh, you know, just trying to make sure wooyoung doesn’t get kidnapped or thrown in tarturus, the usual.” “why am i always being bullied?” “because you’re so easy to pick on, woo.” the blonde male gasped in mock offense. “san! how could you say such a thing? i thought we were friends!” said male only rolled his eyes. “quit being so dramatic, will you? you’re giving me a headache! and would you stop yelling? i’m pretty sure zeus can hear you.” “y/n, help me! i’m suffering!” wooyoung whined, falling dramatically into san’s lap, white chiton billowing with the movement. you laughed. “sorry, woo, i’m kind of outnumbered here.” 

wooyoung huffed in annoyance. “stupid hyungs won’t go away and leave me alone.” that earned him a finger flick to the forehead, causing him to cry out in pain. “san, what was that for? that fucking hurt, you know!” the former ignored him. “you should be grateful we’re even around to look after you, you big baby.” 

you rolled your eyes fondly at their incessant bickering, and settled down on the grass next to san, leaning your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes. immediately, you felt an arm wrap around your own shoulders. ever since you had met the muses all those years ago, you had become extremely close with all of them, and they were not only your best friends, also the older brothers you’ve always wanted.  they always looked out for you, no matter what, and was there for you when no one else was, and had always treated you like a sister. 

“seriously, though, what’s up with you? you seem happier these days.” san’s tone was light, teasing, but the question was enough to make your face flush scarlet. “you’re as red as a tomato, are you seeing someone?” wooyoung asked, hazel eyes alight with curiosity. one of san’s perfect eyebrows raised in question. “well?” “there’s no one!” “liar.” seonghwa sing-songed from where he was sitting with hongjoong a few feet away, watching the latter with a fond gaze as the petite male wove flowers into a crown. “ok, ok fine, there might be someone.” you mumbled, immediately regretting it when san’s face practically lit up, green eyes twinkling with mirth. “oh? who is it? maybe we know him?” you hesitated, not sure if telling them about mingi was the greatest idea, but you decided to just do it, for you knew that the muses would keep pestering you about him for gods knows how long. 

“i-it’s mingi?” as soon as his name left your mouth, san and wooyoung gasped. “NO WAY! SONG MINGI??? AS IN THE HERO HIMSELF??!”  “yes?” san gave your shoulder a light shove. “how long?” “how long what?” “how long have you been seeing him for?” you blushed furiously. “we’re not dating.” “oh, so do you have a crush on him?” “what? no!” san chuckled, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. “y/n, you’re not fooling anyone. you definitely have feelings for mingi, don’t you?” you sighed in defeat. “i really don’t know yet. i’m still trying to figure out my feelings.” san hummed in acknowledgment. “well, you didn’t confirm nor deny, which means that we have the right to tease you about your potential lover!” “say it a little louder, will you?” you hissed, a light shade of red settling across your cheekbones. 

seonghwa snickered, ducking his head down slightly so that hongjoong could place the now finished flower crown on his head. “there’s no shame in being attracted to someone, it’s normal.” “it’s not that i’m embarrassed, it’s just.. i don’t know if i’m ready or willing to be attracted to someone, not after-” san cut you off by throwing his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug. “don’t you dare finish that sentence. that jerk deserves to rot in tarturus for hurting you.” wooyoung nodded, expression darkening. “i really wanted to punch his face in that day.” 

‘‘we all wanted to.” seonghwa mumbled, crossing his lean arms over his chest, frowning at the memory. “i’m sorry for ruining the mood.” “oh, don’t you dare. you did nothing wrong, y/n. and you did not ruin the mood.” “i did though?” hongjoong shot you a look from across the garden, chestnut eyes flashing with warning. “y/n, please stop blaming yourself for things that aren’t your fault. i hate seeing you miserable, we all do.” his voice was gentle, yet firm, and your heart clenched at how sincere he was. “i really don’t deserve you all as friends.” seonghwa scoffed. “i think it’s the other way around, y/n.” 

where’s yeosang, jongho and yunho?” “jongho’s probably forcing yeosang and yunho to listen to one of his newly written hymns. he’s very picky about them, you know.” “but aren’t they-”  “the muse of comedy and astronomy? yes, which is why yeosang and yunho always complain when jongho asks them for feedback, as they know nothing about music.” “yeah, that’s my forte.” hongjoong mumbled, a slight pout on his lips. “he never asks me for help on anything, hyung.” seonghwa rolled his eyes half-heartedly, reaching out to ruffe the younger’s hair affectionately. “it’s ok, joong, he’ll ask you one day.” “i’ve literally been waiting for a whole gods damn century, hwa!” 

seonghwa tried not to laugh as he pulled the younger into a hug, rubbing comforting circles on his back. “i know, i know, just be patient.” hongjoong huffed, but didn’t say anything after that, burying his face into the crook of seonghwa’s neck, sighing. “the day jongho asks me for help on one of his hymns is the day i will throw myself into tarturus.” “please don’t do that, joong. someone has to help me keep jung wooyoung and choi san in check, i can’t do it on my own.” aforementioned muses cried out in protest. “hey!” seonghwa ignored them, hugging hongjoong tighter. san rolled his eyes, falling back onto the grass, pulling you and wooyoung down with him. you laughed and closed your eyes, letting sleep take over.

mingi couldn’t help but smile as he tossed a stone carelessly across the smooth surface of the river, face flushing scarlet as it always did when he thought of her. cheesy and cliché as it was, she was truly unlike any girl he had ever met, for most of them practically fell at his feet, which made him highly uncomfortable, especially when they would propose marriage. he shuddered, remembering coming back from a particularly difficult mission, which had included killing the hydra, a three-headed beast that had begun terrorizing a small, defenseless village, and as he had walked through the streets once home, girls had tried to grab at him and even went as far as to chase him around the town. 

while mingi was happy that the village acknowledged him, the female attention was well, irritating. people had teased him for it, claiming that he secretly loved it and just was pretending not to like the attention. he really truly hated it, dreaded it even, and would breathe a sigh of relief whenever he managed to escape his very, very, enthusiastic admirers. 

you were different. while you were aware who he was, you didn’t know the “heroic” side of him, which was something that mingi could rarely keep under-wraps lately, and it both surprised and relieved him that you didn’t have a clue about his accomplishments. mingi always felt so awkward whenever people would constantly praise him for his bravery, heroic deeds, the like. he never knew what to say, as he didn’t want to sound arrogant or narcissistic. deep down, mingi hated it when people would talk for days on end about his heroic deeds, for it made him feel a bit uncomfortable. and yes, maybe he asked for all the praise and the glory when he had practically begged maddox to train him, in hopes that people wouldn’t see him as “different” or a “freak.” 

when he’d been living with his parents in the small village he used to call home, all the kids wanted nothing to do with him, for they thought the unnatural strength he possessed was scary and abnormal. after enduring their harsh words for years, mingi decided to leave home and try to find someone who would help him control his strength. 

at first, maddox had been reluctant, especially after all the past heroes he trained died tragically, but eventually gave in when he realized that mingi wasn’t going to take no for an answer. training was difficult, and there had been times where maddox was ready to give up on mingi entirely, to tell him to go back home, but mingi was determined, and he began to improve. 

the training had paid off, mingi supposed, as fighting was something that now came naturally to him. “still thinking about that girl, huh?” mingi fought to hide the blush that was spreading across his cheekbones. “n-no, what makes you say that?” maddox scoffed. “kid, please, you’re making it obvious. you’ve been spacing out a lot recently. plus, you always have that look on your face.” “what look?” “oh you know, the look that says i’m a fool in love, something like that.” “i-i’ve only known her for a few months.” “and?” “there’s no way-” maddox held up a hand, silencing him. “look kid, i know i may not look like the type who’d be in love, but i’ve been there. and you definitely look how i felt centuries ago.” “i mean, i guess i am, i don’t know.” 

maddox leaned against a tall tree, scoffing. “you are kid, trust me. i can see the way you look at her, you’re very much smitten.” “i-i guess?” “you’ll see for yourself one of these days.” mingi ignored how his face flushed at the thought of you having feelings for him, and turned away from his mentor, looking out at the smooth surface of the river in front of him, trying not to let his mind wander. 

“so, are you sure you’re not in love with him? not even a tiny bit?” yeosang asked, lifting a perfect eyebrow in question. you scoffed, placing the scroll you’d been reading off to the side of the large wood table in front of you. you and yeosang were currently in the spacious library that the comedy muse often occupied during the week, reading various scrolls. “did the others tell you?” yeosang rolled his eyes. “of course they did. well, it was mostly wooyoung. you know that little shit can’t keep his mouth shut sometimes.” “wooyoung may be loud, but he’s the sweetest and he means well.” 

“yeah, yeah. anyways, how’d you meet mingi?” you groaned, burying your face in your hands. “how much did wooyoung tell you?” yeosang chuckled. “too much.” “i will kick his ass later.” you mumbled. “i’ll help.” the former offered, lavender eyes twinkling with mirth. 

“he saved me from a nessus months ago, and from then on, we just kept bumping into each other after that.” “by coincidence? or by chance?” you shrugged, ignoring the pang of guilt that shot through you. “probably by chance. we just somehow end up seeing each other in the most unlikely circumstances.” yeosang hummed thoughtfully. “you definitely have it bad.” “what? what do you mean by that?” “y/n, even the dumbest person alive can tell that you are in love with him.” 

you threw your hands up in exasperation. “why does everyone think that?” yeosang reached out and gently patted your shoulder, as if to comfort you. “y/n, i love you, you know i do, but it’s kind of obvious. you’re kind of shit at hiding your feelings. even i can tell, and i’m the muse of comedy!” 

“he’s right, you know.” you turned to glare at the source of the voice. seonghwa was leaning against one of the white pillars that surrounded the outside of the library, golden eyes practically sparkling in the warm sun. “not you too, hwa.” aforementioned muse shot you a sheepish smile. “sorry, y/n, but it’s honestly undeniable at this point.” “but i’ve only known him for a few months!” seonghwa shrugged, pushing off the pillar with a sandaled foot, making his way over to the center of the room. “so? love is a funny thing, you know. you can realize you’re in love with someone in a short span of time, it’s not unheard of.” the love poetry muse plopped down on the chair next to you, hastily tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear. 

“how you long were you standing there?” “not long. i was just passing by and happened to overhear your conversation.” “where are the others?” “they’re in the garden, doing gods knows what.” “is hongjoong with them?” seonghwa nodded. “yeah, but he’s probably making a flower crown and purposefully ignoring wooyoung and san’s antics.” “but, jongho is there, and he scares the shit out of those two, for whatever reason, so i trust that he’ll keep an eye on them while i’m gone.” 

yeosang huffed a laugh, picking up one of the discarded scrolls on the table, lavender eyes scanning the contents curiously. “so, what are you doing here?” “i needed a break from san and wooyoung, and well, i thought that, since i’m here, i can look for some inspiration for poems. like hongjoong mentioned, i’ve been having terrible writers’ block recently.” 

“do you want help? i’m not doing much today anyway.” seonghwa’s expression practically lit up. “you would do that? it’s not going to be a lot of fun, though.” you shook your head. “i love looking through scrolls, gives me an excuse to read.” “want to join us, yeosang?” said muse in questions shook his head. “i’d love to, but i have some errands to run. i’ll see you two later at the garden?” you nodded and waved him goodbye, smiling fondly as the blond male rushed off. 

“he was lying, wasn’t he?” seonghwa asked, an amused smile on his face as he scanned the massive shelves that took up a quarter of the other side of the library. you chuckled. “definitely.” 

hongjoong rolled his eyes fondly at the sight before him. jongho, wooyoung, and san were in a heated debate about which olympian god was the best, of all things. he sighed in exasperation and turned back to the flower crown he’d been working on for hours now, ignoring wooyoung’s petulant cries. it was nearly done, and all he had to do was string one more flower together. hongjoong furrowed his brows in concentration as he wove the last flower together, sighing in relief when it stayed intact after he’d finished tying it off. he’d always loved making flower crowns, as it was something that calmed him after a particularly difficult day, or when lyrics for a song just wouldn’t come to him immediately like they normally did. weaving flower crowns often made his anxiety and worries dissipate like smoke. the others often teased him for it, but their words never had any bad intent behind them.  he had been mocked for his favorite hobby in the past, and hongjoong was glad that he finally found people, a family, who accepted him for who he was, flower crowns and all. 

hongjoong hummed softly to himself, placing the finished flower crown onto his head, making sure it was secure, and laid back onto the soft green grass, letting the cool night air wash over him. he didn’t realize he’d fallen asleep until he felt someone shake his shoulder gently. “joong?” hongjoong’s eyes fluttered open slowly, and seonghwa was next to him, golden eyes twinkling with amusement. “did you fall asleep again?” hongjoong blushed as he slowly sat up, adjusting the crooked flower crown on his head. “n-no.” 

seonghwa rolled his eyes, but his smile was fond as he helped hongjoong to his feet. the former led him to a more secluded part of the garden, where the rest of their friends were waiting, gathered around a table of fruit and bread.

you waved at hongjoong, a sheepish smile on your face as he drew near with seonghwa. “it’s not much, and i know it’s not quail eggs or anything luxurious, but i thought i’d try and prepare something nice for once, since all of you have done so much for me.” wooyoung shook his head and pushed past san, bounding forward and throwing his arms around you, hugging you tight. “don’t say that, y/n! this is more than enough! and you really didn’t have to do this! you already do enough just by tolerating us.” you huffed a laugh, wrapping your arms around the muse of dance. “you guys are too kind to me.” 

“we love you, and you know that you’re like a sister to us. you never have to do anything for us.” “i wanted to, though.” “yes, and we appreciate it a lot, so don't you dare say it’s not anything special.” yunho declared from behind san, light green eyes bright with happiness. you fought back the happy tears that were threatening to spill and smiled. i love you all.” “aww, we love you too!! group hug!!!!” yunho shouted. a few seconds later, you were being squeezed tightly by seven muses, and you had never felt so loved in your entire life, which made you feel even more guilty for what you were about to do. 

after a light dinner of fruit and bread, you found yourself laying on the soft green grass of the garden that you now considered your safe place, surrounded by seven muses, staring up at the midnight blue sky, stars like tiny specks from afar. the night air was crisp and cool, and you allowed yourself a smile, leaning your head against seonghwa’s shoulder, who immediately wrapped an arm around your shoulders, squeezing gently. stargazing had become a daily thing after hongjoong had first suggested it after a practically exhausting day of work, and you had come to love it. 

suddenly, you felt a wave of sadness crash over you, and before you knew it, you were being pulled into a warm and firm chest, strong arms wrapping around you, comforting circles being rubbed on your back. “y/n, what’s wrong?” seonghwa asked, and you didn’t have to see his face to know that he was extremely worried. you didn’t answer, burying your face into seonghwa’s chest, feeling your heart ache with immense guilt. “i-i’m s-sorry.” you choked out, voice shaking. “darling, what could you possibly be sorry for? you’ve done nothing wrong.” you shook your head, reluctantly pulling away from seonghwa’s warm embrace, refusing to look any of your friends in the eye, instead focusing on a blade of grass. 

“i really don’t deserve to have you all in my life, and i am the shittiest person in the world. i-i lied to you all.” “about what?” you closed your eyes, turning away from the people you never deserved to call your friends. “about how i met mingi. it wasn’t a coincidence. it was all on purpose.” 

“what? what are you talking about, y/n?” yunho asked, and your heart broke at how confused he sounded. “hades.” you mumbled, voice barely audible, but you knew they heard you, from the way the tension in the air seemed to thicken. “what about hades?” seonghwa asked, voice deadly calm. “d-do you remember my past lover?” “the one that broke your heart into pieces? we’re familiar with him, why?” san asked, clear disgust in his tone. you fought back tears as you forced the words to come out. 

“w-when he died, i was so heartbroken and desperate for happiness that hades appeared to me and he offered me a deal, which was that if he would bring him back, only if i agreed to sell my soul to him and become his servant. and then, he wanted me to make mingi fall in love with me in order to discover his weakness. hades wants to kill him. i wouldn’t have agreed, but he then threatened to hurt all of you, and i- i c-couldn’t let that happen so i-” 

you couldn’t bring yourself to finish that sentence, and felt your knees give out from under you, your pale blue chiton billowing around you as you fell. you didn’t dare open your eyes, as you couldn’t bear to see the looks on their faces. to your surprise, you felt strong arms wrap around you, holding you tight. you felt your eyes flutter open due to shock, and tears practically leaked out of your eyes. 

your friends, no, your family, were gathered around you, hugging you tight. san looked up at you, violet eyes glimmering with tears, smiling sadly. wooyoung, lips quivering, reached out and wiped your tears away with the pad of his thumb. seonghwa had his face buried in your shoulder, crying softly, lacing your fingers with his, squeezing tightly. hongjoong was curled up  in your lap like a child,small hands gripping the fabric of your chiton, trembling as he cried. yeosang had his lips pursed tightly as he placed a gentle hand on your head, fighting back tears. jongho and yunho were both a mess, swollen eyes and flushed cheeks, resting their heads on each other’s shoulders. 

“h-how can you all forgive me? how can you all stand to even look at me?” “we could never hate you.” “b-but-” “you’ve gone through so much, darling, and you grieved in your own way. if i was you, i would’ve probably been desperate enough to do the same.” “i really don’t deserve to be forgiven.” that earned you a light shove to the shoulder. “shush, don’t say that. you could lie to us a thousand times over and we would still love you just as much as we do now.” you allowed yourself a soft, sad laugh as you buried your face in the crook of san’s neck and cried happy tears. 

after your shocking revelation and the tears had subsided, you lay back down on the grass with your head resting on san’s lap, letting him play with strands of your hair, while the others were curled up next to you. “thank you.” you whispered. “no need to thank us. just promise us that you won’t keep stuff like that from us again.” you nodded. “is anything going to happen to you?” “probably, you never know with hades.” “we’ll protect you.” you smiled sadly. “i know you all want to, but hades is too powerful. i don’t want any of you getting hurt.” “y/n, we would never be able to live with ourselves if anything happened to you!” hongjoong exclaimed, chestnut eyes glimmering with determination. “the same goes for me, if anything happened to any of you, i would never be able to forgive myself.” “don’t worry, y/n, we’ll figure out a way to protect you.” san reassured you, ruffling your hair affectionately. you returned his smile, but deep down, you weren’t so sure if that was possible. 

➳ a/n: this was part one, and i hope you all enjoyed this! let me know if you have any suggestions for the sequel! this was so much fun to write! what do you think will happen in the sequel? let me know your predictions! 

tagging: @deonghwa​ @subinily​ @hwacinth-main​ (ily all MWAH)

#mine #drabble #this is for my fellow disney/greek mythology enthusiasts hehe

[lovehugsandcandy]

One-on-One: Rematch (Part 2)

A/N: Remember when i wrote the first one of this and I was all like “WHY can’t I write anything short?!?” And NOW we’re at part 2 of a 16K word hot mess and that annoyance over three thousand words seems so quaint. (Part 1 here)

Pairing: Colt x MC, ROD

Length: ~4,000 words

Rating: N*FW (Sex-not explicit (I think?) but it’s there. Swearing.)

Summary: When Langston made it to Nationals, Ellie planned on spending the entire time studying in her room. It didn’t end up quite as planned.

Ellie hoped it was out of her system, that her temporary insanity had run its course and she would return to her normal focus and drive, but Ingrid ruthlessly guilt-tripped her into attending a party that night. Apparently, there were parties every night, various hotel rooms and bars teeming with players and associated hanger-ons, and Ingrid was never one to be left out of a party, especially when they were celebrating a Langston victory.

She was dabbing concealer on the mark at her collarbone when Ingrid walked in, fixing her with a penetrating stare. “You know… you know what you’re doing, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“Hooking up with a player? Who is it?”

Ellie blinked; her reflection looked as startled as she felt. “I don’t...I don’t know what you’re-”

“I’m not stupid.” Ingrid swiped a brilliant red over her lips, pursing them in the mirror. “You stayed out all night and showed up exhausted to the game with a hickey no makeup can hide? Seriously?”

“It’s not….” Her cheeks were as red as Ingrid’s lipstick.

“Ellie. Listen. Hooking up with players is...complicated.” She turned to fully face Ellie, hip resting against the sink, eyes imploring. “Be careful. They are in it for one thing and one thing only. And you’re never the only one. They always have fans in and out of their beds and we can’t be seen with them, anyway. It’s always temporary; no matter what, there’s always an expiration date.”

“I don’t…”

“Everyone hooks up here. Playoff week is like Candyland but then everyone goes back to the real world. And hookups with players, whether Langston or opponents... it doesn’t translate to back home.”

Ellie swallowed, hoping that it was the bathroom lights that were making her look so washed out.

“But...the guys are all in their peak physical prime so the sex is verrrry good,” Ingrid purred, wolfish smile alighting her face. “But don’t fall for it. Cuz that’s alllll they want.”

“I…” She inspected her nails.

“Ellie… I know…” Her voice was kind, confiding. “I know what you were like in high school and I have really loved seeing you come out of your shell, watch you meeting new people and having a social life. I just... I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I won’t.” She looked up to meet Ingrid’s gaze head on in the mirror. “It’s not like that. It’s…” Images and sensations flashed through her mind, the glint in his eyes as he tracked her movements, the curve of his hand as he pulled her back into bed. “You’re right. It’s just sex. Really.”

Ingrid’s sigh echoed through the bathroom but, thankfully, she dropped it in favor of a sassy lipstick kiss on the mirror. “Fine, fine. Ready to go?”

Ellie didn’t answer the question, only dutifully followed Ingrid out the door, hoping that the party was worth giving up an evening with her nose in theorems and formulas.

It wasn’t.

The party was everything she dreaded; she could barely see through the bodies crowded in the penthouse suite. They forced their way through the crush, avoiding the flailing arms on the dance floor and cheering bros piled around a beer pong table before finally stopping by the makeshift bar. 

“What do you want?” Ingrid wrinkled her nose as she looked over the selection, finally picking up some fruity spikes seltzer with dainty fingertips.

Ellie hummed absentmindedly, “I’ll have a water.” She looked through the crowd again, spying players from all the teams milling and laughing, other cheerleaders she recognized from earlier in the season. But not everyone was there, apparently; she stood on her tiptoes, stretching to see over the crowd, trying and failing to avoid looking for a certain smirk.

“You are so boring.” Ingrid chided and then grabbed her arm. “Oh, there’s Jack. I’m gonna go say hi. Be right back!”

Ellie didn’t even have time to say goodbye before Ingrid was off, weaving through the crowd, trained like a honing missile on the upperclassman she had been fawning over. Ellie sighed, leaning against the table. It would be an interminable night.

As she was nursing her drink, she felt a gentle nudge at her side.

“So are you on a women’s team or are you a cheerleader?” 

She turned and immediately flushed as she realized that the boy next to her fit every single qualification of tall, dark, and handsome. Were all basketball players this cute? Of course, he was tall but the chiseled cheekbones? The dark scruff teasing its way down his jawline? She had to replay his question in her head.  “Oh... cheerleader.”

“I should have guessed. It’s a prerequisite to be gorgeous, apparently. Who do you cheer for?”

“Langston.”

“Ah, we beat you guys three weeks ago. And if we both keep playing well, we’ll see you in the finals.” She nodded, but a familiar figure pushing through the crowd stole her attention. He was engrossed in an intense conversation with a tall brunette; even from here, she knew they were talking strategy, Colt’s eyes lighting up as they parried ideas back and forth. His eyes swept the crowd as he walked past the dance floor, nodding along as his friend spoke, but he stopped as soon as his eyes locked on hers. She swallowed, unable to look away, as he bid farewell to his friend and walked over, positively swaggering, every step filled with the unbridled confidence owned solely by boys who threw the first punch because they knew they would throw the last. She wished she were more stoic, able to pretend that he wasn’t affecting her, but the swoop in her stomach made it impossible to think of anything else.

However, when he sidled up to them, she was surprised that he turned instead to the boy in front of her.

“Logan?”

“Sup, Kaneko?”

“Toby was looking for you.”

“What?”

“He said something about that play you guys were drawing up. With the hand-off at center court?”

“What did he-”

“I dunno man, something about trying it while dribbling backwards?”

“What?” Logan’s eyes widened. “I gotta... I’m sorry.” He turned to her and panic flared on his face. “I have to go.”

Once Logan rushed away racing through the crowd on a mission, she flushed under Colt’s gaze; he narrowed his eyes. “What in the world you talking to him for?”

“What? What do you…” She lifted her chin to shoot him a challenging stare. “Wait, you jealous?”

“Jealous?” He rolled his eyes. “Ha. If I were, I would have just given him a black eye.”

“Why do you care who I talk to?”

“I don’t.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, deflating under her scrutinizing glare. “I am shocked to see you here.”

“What do you mean?”

“This doesn’t seem like your kinda place,” he scoffed. “I figured you would be in your room studying.”

“This doesn’t seem like your kinda place. I figured you would be in your room brooding.”

“Ha. That hurts..” He shrugged, eyes intent on her. “I mean, nothing was really going on in my room.”

She bit her lip. “Ingrid wanted to come and, after my vanishing act yesterday, I figured I should spend some time with her.”

“Well then, where is she?”

Ellie pointed to the dance floor, where Ingrid’s heavy make-out session with the Langston forward was definitely an NCAA violation.

“Hey, I know him.” Colt ducked his head to see through the crowd, rolling his eyes. “He got so huffy about a pick I made that he tried to punch me. They had to stop the game to find his tooth.”

“What?” Ellie peered through the crowd. “No, it was our center you fought.”

“Nah, different game.”

“Wait… how many times have you fought someone on my team?”

“Hmm…” he pondered, eyes narrowing, “I mean, how many times have I played you?”

“Wait…”

“Twice a year in the regular season and once in the playoffs last year, so what is that? Five?”

“You’ve... you’ve been ejected from every game you’ve played us?”

“Sweetheart… I’m ejected from about half of the games I play.”

“How are you still in the league?”

“I’ve gotten a lot of warnings.” He glanced around the room. “But people here have done far worse than me.”

She wasn’t stupid; she had heard horror stories of the trouble athletes had gotten into. It was one reason she had consciously avoided players until... well, until now. Players were not in the plan. But now?

“You wanna get outta here?”

“What?”

He shrugged. “I mean, we could stay and play drinking games and get wasted…” He nodded at her water. “Or we could not.” She smirked, holding his gaze as he ducked his head to whisper in her ear, “So, do you wanna get outta here?”

“Yeah, I do.” She really did. With one last glance across the dance floor to ensure Ingrid was occupied, she followed him back to the exit, eyebrows flying up when he clasped her palm to lead her through the mass of bodies. His hand was warm, strong, and entirely too solid for a fling with some collegiate athlete; she held tight anyway. 

She eyed him closely as they walked to the elevator. Now that the roar of the party was receding, Ingrid’s words rang loud in her brain. “What did you mean when you said you noticed me?”

“What?”

“The first time we played you. This season.” The sports page said it had been his best game all season; she didn’t remember a thing except for flashcards on enthalpically driven reactions.

He raised an eyebrow. “You mean, when you were so busy studying that you didn’t even say hi to me? You ignored the star of the game?”

“Oh my God, you are so full of yourself.”

He laughed, looking far more relaxed than he had at the party; instead of being on guard, he looked almost boyish, young, eyes gleaming in the elevator lights. “When I first saw you, you were berating your friend.”

“What?” Of all the things she was expecting, that was not it.

“Your roommate? Ingrid? She made some mistake in her hand placement of a hold and you were trying to fix it before the game. And then you made the team try to retry the jump flip thing?”

“The what?”

“Christ, I don’t know what it’s called. You jump in the air and flip around and three people catch you before you crater onto the court. You made them do it repeatedly until you thought it was perfect.”

The doors opened, and she stepped out, glancing over at him.

“I honestly couldn’t fucking tell a difference any of the times you did it.”

“I…” She followed him down the hall, brow furrowed. “I thought you would say something about the skirt.”

“I do like the skirt.” He reached into his pocket for the key, eyes on her the entire time. “But you’re tough. You didn’t take Ingrid’s shit. Hell, you don’t take my shit. You have high expectations of others, but you expect perfection from yourself. You’re smart and you don’t let anyone stand in your way.”

The door opened with a ding and she stumbled in, unsteady. Apparently, Colt’s talents at surgically cataloguing and exposing the strengths and weaknesses of others was not confined solely to the court.

“What? Why do you...?” he asked.

She blinked, inhaled slowly, exhaled slower, and finally spoke. “You sound like a fortune cookie.”

He laughed again; thankfully, his head fell back so he missed how weak her return smile was as her eyes drifted to his jersey, tossed in a heap on the floor. The championship game was in five days.

If that was her expiration date, then goddamn, she would make the most of it. Straightening, she stalked over to him. “Did you bring me here only to talk?”

He looked down to where her fingers were touching his arm and then caught her eye. “How about some dirty talk?” She rolled her eyes, blush flaring, and he stepped even closer. “How ‘bout some things that definitely wouldn’t be on a fortune cookie?”

Her breath stopped as he ducked his head, lips tracing her cheek, neck, lower, following a trail of red as far as it went, then lower as they fell to the carpet.

They didn’t make it to the bed.

And when security banged on their door to inquire about a noise complaint, Ellie could not stop stuttering apologies, Colt could not stop laughing; once they left, it became his mission to make her scream even louder.

He succeeded.

~~~~~

Ellie woke up slow. Her muscles ached, the best kind of sore, and she sighed in satisfaction. The room was gauzy around her but, as things slowly came into focus, she realized her head was pillowed on a muscular chest, legs intertwined, sunlight just starting to crawl up the starched sheets.

“Colt?”

His eyes were focused on his phone, staring intently at something flashing across the screen. He didn’t move.

“Hey, Colt?”

Finally, he looked down and realized she was awake. “Oh, hey.” He pulled out an earbud. “Morning.”

“Morning. What are you so focused on?”

“Hmm? It’s game tape.”

“What is it?” She sat up, curling into his side to peer at the screen. “Oh my God, you narcissist. Are you watching yourself?”

“Ha ha.” He wrapped his free hand tighter around her waist and sighed, “It’s the game against Williamsburg. See him #42?”

“Yeah.”

“He torched us for a double-double. That’s not gonna happen again.”

He hit play, and the video ran, zoomed in on the player Colt referenced. Ellie had learned a lot from cheering at game after game, but she was no expert. However, even she could tell he was their best player, watching him drain three after three. She squinted at the screen. “What is that weird thing he does with his hand?”

“What weird thing?” Colt hummed.

“The weird flick thing. With his wrist.”

“Huh? What are you…” Colt moved the video back a few seconds to watch. And did it again.

“That! You see that?”

“Yeah….” He sat up slowly, eyes trained on the screen. “He does it before his pump fake. Holy… how did you…”

“Biomechanical engineering, remember?”

“Damn…” he finally turned to her, eyes gleaming, and the awe in his voice made her flush. “I am so fucking keeping you around!”

And when his lips crashed into hers, she could almost forget the twisting in her gut that reminded her of their expiration date, her plans, and the fact that no one was keeping anyone around. 

Almost.

 ~~~~~

Ellie was tucked back into his sheets when he sauntered out of the bathroom. She stared. It had been a while since she had seen him in actual clothes.

“Are you going to the other quarterfinals games?” he asked, toweling his hair.

“Uh…..no? Why would I?”

“I dunno. I go to all of them.”

“Why?”

“Well, we play whoever wins the afternoon game and I think it’s gonna be Williamsberg. Good time to scope out the competition.”

“That’s very strategic of you.”

He leaned over the bed to kiss behind her ear. “I’ll show you strategic.” Then, his tongue parted her lips, stealing her breath until there was a pounding on the door.

“Come on, we’re gonna be late,” a feminine voice hollered from outside.

He pulled back. “Give me a second, for Christ’s sake!” He turned back to Ellie and kissed down her jaw, sloping down her neck. “I’ll be back, ok?”

“What?” she whispered.

“Yo, Kaneko, let’s go.” The girl from outside pounded on the door again.

“Will you be here when I get back?”

Her eyes widened. “If you’re going to both games... you want me to stay here until 10 tonight?”

The kisses returned to the side of her neck, lower, and she tangled her hands in his shirt. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Fine.” She couldn’t help but return the smile, laughing as he flashed her one last wink before ducking out the door and settling back against the pillow.

She lounged for a while, flipping back and forth between channels and seeing what appeared to be every single Picta image ever posted before she snuck out, hotel key firmly in her pocket, and made her way down the stairs to duck back into her own hotel room.

Ingrid greeted her with a raised eyebrow. “Where have you been?” Her eyes immediately found the hickie on Ellies neck and she leered, “And what, or who, have you been doing?”

“Oh my God, stop.” Ellie barely glanced her way before sticking her head in her backpack, rummaging around for a couple textbooks. If she was hanging out in a strange room all day, she might as well get some studying in.

“Seriously, though. Are you...Do you know what you’re doing?”

“Yes! Yes yes, jeez, yes. I’m having fun. Isn’t that what you want for me?”

“Yeah, but…” Ingrid frowned. “I just worry. You’re so set on studying and school and after school...I don’t want some loser meathead to ruin it for you.”

“He’s not-” She had to physically bite her tongue to stop herself from refuting the phrase. Colt was a lot of things, a walking ball of contradictions wrapped in tight muscles and fast fists, but meathead loser was far from it. Unfortunately, Ingrid’s raised eyebrows suggested she knew exactly how Ellie would have finished that sentence. She sighed and started over, “He won’t ruin anything. I have a plan and I’m sticking to it. He’s just….” She had to inhale a shuddering breath to power through the rest of the words. “He’s a fling. It’s just sex and, after this, everything is gonna go right back to normal. My future plans are fine.”

“Ah yes, Ellie’s seven step plan to get her doctorate and take over the world.”

“Not the whole world.” Where were her highlighters?

“I worry about you.”

“I’m fine. It’s all fine.”

But even when Ellie clutched her books to her chest and headed out the door again, even when she did her best to keep her head high and fight back the blush, Ingrid did not look convinced.

Ellie didn’t know how convinced she was herself.

~~~~~

The only sound in the room was the ESPN announcers droning on and the scratch of a pen over dense words. She had nearly finished the chapter on thermodynamic principles, sprawled over the bed with her toes buried under warm sheets, when the door opened.

“Hey, how were the games?” She finished writing out a formula on an index card, checking to make sure she had noted the correct number of atoms.

“Good. We’re gonna win it all this year, you wait. Williamsburg looked rough.”

“What about Langston?!?”

“Yeah, I don’t…” He sat next to her, trailing off as he noticed that the television was on. “Ugh, turn that shit off.”

“What do you mean? They’re talking about the playoffs.”

He reached for the remote but she held it over the side of the bed, giggling as he flailed. “Look, Langston, there we are. Future champ-Hey! Red and gold. Wait, that’s you!”

“You know they replay this shit, right? They showed it already.”

“You’ve seen it? Don’t ruin it for me, big shot.”

She glanced over at him and his jaw was set, eyes hard.

“Colt?” He didn’t move, eyes looking through the television in front of them, sour lines painted across his face, even though the announcer was droning on about his court vision and passion. She laid a gentle hand on his arm. “Hey, I can turn it off.”

“It’s fine, whatever.” He shook his head and sighed, eyes looking past the tv, past the wall. She frowned. “I just wonder sometimes... does he fucking see this shit? He never watched a fucking game, he never fucking showed but now, that asshole... he cares so much about the family name, the family legacy and now, when people look up Kaneko, it’s me. It’s me they see, not that asshole.” He blinked furiously, still staring straight ahead.

She hit the power button, dropping the remote on the floor to straddle him, cupping his cheeks to look him in the eye. “Colt.” He didn’t even blink, staring straight through her. “Colt.” She thumbed his cheekbone; he didn’t move. “Kaneko.”

“You’ve…” His eyelashes fluttered slowly as he gazed at her. “You’ve never called me that.”

“Isn’t that what your teammates call you?”

“It hits a little different when you say it.”

“Huh? How so?”

“When people say it to me…” He swallowed, hard. “When people say it to my dad...I’m used to it being hollered or screamed. Not...” He trailed off.

“Not what?”

“Not all sexy.” His gaze softened when she glared, and his voice dropped so she had to strain to hear. “Not like it means something.”

“You’re the only Kaneko that means something.”

She gasped as the room spun, landing on her back as he hovered over her. “Call me that again.”

“Kaneko,” she gasped and his lips found her neck, lower, sharp pinpoints of white pain as he found the bruise on her collarbone.

“Again.”

“Kaneko,” she moaned and a tense hand dove into her hair, tilting her head to the side to drive teeth into her sensitive neck. Her hips bucked.

“Me, my name,” he growled into her ear and her vision dimmed, consciousness fading to the only things that mattered: his hands rough on her hips and his voice a rasp in her ears.

“Colt. Cooolt. Kaneko. Colt, please!” He ripped the shirt off his head and her clothes followed, flying through the room, textbooks slamming on the floor, a flurry of motion until she was underneath him, nails digging into his back. He slid inside of her and she screamed, pressure building as his name fled her lips, along with epithets far too vulgar for daylight, as he worked her into a frenzy and then an explosion, when names and sight and anything except for white-hot pleasure was meaningless.

~~~~~

At least when she woke up next, it was still morning. But, by the time they got their act together, breakfast in bed followed by a shower and, a few hours after that, another shower, it was no longer morning, sun high in the sky as Colt grabbed his wallet. “You ever been to Nationals before?”

“Nope.” She shrugged. “Freshman, remember?”

He smiled, grabbing his key from the desk. “Then let’s get outta here.”

“What?”

“Let’s go. See the sights. You don’t have a game until tonight, right?

“Yeah… our semifinal match. I need to be at the arena at 7.”

“Good. Come on.”

She was confused but followed, escaping the hotel to make their way into the city, avoiding the crowds and the press to hop a bus downtown. They grabbed lunch at the waterfront, Colt threatening to push her in the river, hands solid around her waist as she laughed and laughed and laughed. He bought her ice cream and then wiped vanilla on her cheek; his tongue was absolutely indecent as it licked it off, entirely inappropriate for a crowded street. She couldn’t bring herself to complain through her flush. He followed her through small shops, grumbling bitterly the entire way, but she still snapped a photo of him in prop sunglasses and a cowboy hat before he put her in a headlock, pulling her out the shop door as the bell rang merrily over their heads. 

And when she arrived at the arena, 20 minutes before game time, clutching her uniform in both hands, he pushed her against the closed doors to thoroughly map her mouth, lips pinned to hers as hungry hands roved her body and her Langston blue-and-whites fell to the pavement as she pulled him even closer.

And during the game, she had no idea what the score was, registering neither her routine nor the Langston victory; her mind was far away, and she felt distracted, disembodied, until she was sliding the key into the lock and was falling back into his bed.

.

Tags

Perma @desireepow-1986 @leelee10898 @emichelle @client-327 @choicesgremlin @brightpinkpeppercorn @thequeenofcronuts @lilyofchoices @choicesarehard

ROD @omgjasminesimone @mskaneko @lovemychoices @burnsoslow

Colt

@deimosensblog @alegria1580   @thefarrari @moonlit-girl-wonder @going-down-downtown@soniadotalves@jolietmaraud @flowerpowell@poeticscolt @zaira-oh-zaira @akrenich @sibella-plays-choices​  @maxwellsquidsuit  @liamzigmichael4ever​ @octobereighth @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction

#playchoices fanfic #colt kaneko #colt x mc #ride or die: a bad boy romance #n*fw #amy writes

[royaldescendants]

the darkest little paradise

moodboard made by me

masterlist

Chapter 3

Black marble floors, red candles on the chandelier made of glittering diamonds, dripping sapphires, emeralds, rubies, and countless jewels that no one had named yet.

Hades knew them all, of course. He’d made the room, he’d helped with the candles, and hand picked every jewel to be a part of the chandelier. He would have never done it otherwise, but this had to be special. It was for his darling, of course, nothing else would be good enough (this barely was good enough as it was).

Obsidian thrones, one with at least five pillows and the other with none. Of course the one with pillows only had them added recently, for a portrait they had done of the family.

“Hades?” Her hair was shiny in the light, her skin gorgeous in the way the fabric she wore smoothing any creases in her skin left from the wrinkles in the bed sheets. 

“Yes, darling?”

“How are preparations going? Have the florists come yet, I had some last minute ideas to incorporate more flowers into the chandelier, and maybe weave some around the thrones. Flower petals on the floor, and garlands on the balcony edges of course….”

“Darling,” he interrupted. “I’m sure that with or without your florist nymphs or forest Fae, if that’s what you chose they would find a way to make it work. No matter what.”

Cooing and giggles came from the doorway. Pain and Panic could be heard fretting over where the child had gone this time, but Hades only smiled. 

He put his fingers over his lips with a smile, signaling to his wife that they should be quiet, and then silently walked over to where he couldn’t be seen from the doorway. He never did spill the secret of how he walked silently in his leather shoes, or how the pants of his suit never rustled to give him away.

“Rahhh!” He growled playfully as he grabbed his daughter from where she peered out. She squealed, long blonde hair flying as she was spun in the air in her father’s arms. 

Hades looked at his wife, his darling, checking on her. She still looked stressed, but she was smiling and laughing at them. He smiled, secretly victorious in his nefarious plot to make her smile. He didn’t want anything else from her but the sunshine that spilled from her lips.

He pulled his daughter close, and while he messed with her long hair to ensure it wasn’t caught on any buttons of his shirt, she pulled at his previously slicked back hair. It wasn’t hard, considering it was getting long. He needed to trim it, or get a new hairstyle.

He gently lit a blue flame on his finger, offering it to the child.

She stared at it, fascinated, and reached out to grab it.

“Nuh uh uh,” he pulled it away quickly. “Bad idea, kiddo, even your mother didn’t like it for a while. Takes more than a year to get used to the heat, sweetie,” he winked at his wife.

She rolled her eyes. “Alright you two, time to get the princess into her dress for the party. It’s not every day we’re asked to host a New Year’s Party and we actually say yes,” she added reproachingly, staring meaningfully at her husband.

He sighed. “I’ll go make sure everything is prepped- well, whatever can be at this point.”

------

It took a while, but eventually Mal’s joints loosened enough to let her maneuver her motorbike with Celia’s arms around her waist.

Pulling her goggles from over her eyes as they glowed, she chanted, “Noble steeds, proud and fair, you shall take us anywhere.”

The bikes took off, and none of them looked back, even Carlos when Dude yelled, “Carlos! You’re gonna miss Jane’s birthday!”

-------

Dancing. He didn’t want to look away from her, the way silk fell on her shoulders, shifting and glimmering in the light of the candles, of the torches, of the very glow of godliness that just about everyone at this party emitted, but it all seemed to be shadows compared to her.

The way the fabric rustled, parts of her outfit with woven gold and blue and green, practically taken from sun and water and life itself; and then the other parts, the pinks and blacks and purples, the magic she carried, her title, and their daughter’s early sparks.

The little blonde was being carried by her father, in a dark purple wrap that was strapped to his chest, safely snug in a way that was comfortable but didn’t let her touch his hair that she loved so, as it was currently lit up with a blue flame that nearly outdid the sun god that was only a few feet away from the dancing couple in the center of the floor. 

He opened his mouth to say something, but then…..

------

Kore came to with a start. Dancing, black marble, and pretty clothes with a pretty husband and a pretty child faded as quickly as she tried to remember what her dream had been about, not even able to notice that she wasn’t in her cot.

“So, you finally woke up. What’s the secret, Kore?” She whipped around. Audrey had been watching her the whole time, scared of what she could do.

“What are you talking about, Audrey?”

“Why didn’t the scepter work on you?” Audrey seemed genuinely confused. “It works on everyone, even Maleficent had effects from it at some points when she fought my parents.”

Kore chuckled. “I don’t think,” she said slowly. “I don’t think it works on me, because it knows something about me. No one claimed to know me before the barrier went up, but clearly it’s not true. Magic itself has a sort of memory, you know. Chances are if you pricked your finger on the spinning wheel, you’d have a sort of immunity, because your mother was so affected by it.”

“Why don’t you remember anything before 16 years ago anyway? I thought we had the best healers in Auradon, there- there wouldn’t be anyone on the Isle of course,” Audrey laughed at the thought. “That would be ridiculous.”

Kore shrugged. “Maybe something with-.” She cut herself off, head burning suddenly. “I can’t- I can’t think-” She gasped for air, her brain feeling like it was being stabbed from the inside to the outside. 

“Kore? Kore-!”

Audrey crouched over her former friend. Kore had always been kind, she had only been sympathetic and understanding when Mal stole her Ben, she couldn’t leave her here. 

Hefting Kore into her arms, she gazed down at her former magic mentor. “I’ll fix you,” she promised. “I swear I’ll fix you. You’ll remember everything, it’ll be okay someday soon. I’ll be queen,” she wheezed, dragging Kore up the stairs, gritting her teeth. “I’ll make them fix it. Whether they want to or not.”

--------

Audrey strode to the end of the path, encountering a waiter as she entered the clearing. “Anybody save me some guacamole?”

Everybody and the waiter stared at her. 

“No? Well it looks like you forgot to invite me as well, even though you all know how that went last time. Oh don’t be expecting Mal to save you either, she’s uh,” she snickered. “She’s not feeling herself right now.” 

She moved further towards the cupcake table. “Does that make you sad? Does that just ruin everything?”

No one reacted. “Mindless little drones,” she muttered. “It’s a shame really, the groundskeeper has more personality than all of you combined. Especially that good for nothing grape haired bitch.”

An apprehensive look appeared on Chad’s face, she ignored it.

“How could you forget what she did to us?! How did you all forget that I was supposed to be the queen?!”

Chad jumped a tree trunk. “Time out!” He panted, then straightened up. “First off, great new look. I absolutely love the lace, but before you do whatever you’re gonna do, I was wondering if you maybe wanted a loyal boyfriend at your side?”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Partner in crime? Sidekick?”

Audrey’s expression went to pure boredom.

“Well- maybe just a lackey to do your bidding? Change tires, smoothie runs, huh?” His expression turned to begging. “Please?”

Audrey thought of Kore, and that Chad always paid more attention in first aid than she did. “You could be useful. Fine, stand behind me.” He scurried behind her, as a smirk appeared on her face. “If Auradon likes to forget so much, they’ll love this. Just a little reminder, of course.”

“Happy Birthday to you,” pink smoke appeared as she stomped the staff into the dirt. “Happy Birthday to you,” people fell asleep standing up. “Happy Birthday, dear Jane,” the fog made its way down the hill to the pavilion by the Enchanted Lake, where Jane was watching, unsettled. “Happy birthday, to you!”

--------

Running. Running and running and running- why? 

‘Mother said to run if it ever appeared again, to run as fast as I can, but why? What is so bad about any of this?’

Abruptly, she stopped. The dark patch on the ground was down the hill now, and she had the forest to hide in if she needed. 

“You do know I don’t want to hurt you,” the voice called. “I just want to talk to you more.”

She knew him. “Who are you?”

“You know who I am, darling.”

She smiled. “I do, but I have to say it anyway.”

He sighed. “I have another plant for you.”

She immediately scampered down the hill to see, skidding to a stop just before she crashed into him, and hugged him. “What is it?”

He told her he didn’t know, and as she rattled off facts and statements about it to deduce what it was (Underworld plants were very different from normal plants) he looked down at her.

Her hair had flowers in it, probably from laying in the meadow all day, staring up at the clouds dreamily. How he wished he could see her face when she did it, but every time he appeared she had to run away immediately, to keep up pretenses with her mother. 

Demeter was traumatized by Zeus and Poseidon, she understandably wasn’t going to give Hades a chance to go after her precious daughter, her pride and joy.

‘Pity she can’t understand love anymore.’

“You’re beautiful, you know that?”

She looked up abruptly, startled by his interruption.

“You always know what’s wrong with something so precious, you care about them all,” he went on. “I wish more people would bother to see it.”

‘I don’t really, because more people might try to steal you away,’ he thought, but it wasn’t proper to say that of course. 

The pastel dress she wore, deemed by her mother to be one of the only things that was appropriate for her to wear, fanned out in the gentle breeze- 

Hades awoke from his nap with a start, tears streaming down his face. 

“I miss you,” he muttered. “I miss feeling you next to me.”

There was so much he wished he could say, but the memories in his mind were all he had left. They’d certainly married her off, or locked her up somewhere without access to the ground or to light. Or something equally as soul draining for her, knowing that outright killing her would be enough for his anger to bring down the barrier.

Death magic wasn’t meant to be contained.

It wasn’t like he wanted to take it out on the other Isle prisoners of course, but he couldn’t help it. He was draining the life out of the people, the island, the magic of the barrier itself. He kept himself away from everyone he could- didn’t want to become more of a villain than they already thought he was, but there wasn’t much he could do, or really anywhere isolated enough that it would only affect him.

Being able to use it a little when his daughter picked up a few more kids with her friends had only done so much, there was years of backed up magic, years of backed up judgements and organization and paperwork- none of which anyone outside the barrier ever thought of. 

Outside his lair, the clouds inside the barrier grew darker, trying to restrain the magic that so desperately needed an out.

#mal #mal bertha #persephone #hades x persephone #hades #descendants #disney descendants #royaldescendants #wip #kore

[tsipasce]

Same Difference, Ch.07

A/N:   Is it really a fanfic without at least one semi-flirty bar scene? 

Chapters: 01  |  02 |  03 |  04 | 05  | 06

AO3 | Fanfic

“All work and no play makes Nanami a dull girl~” Hitomi hummed on the other end of the phone “Come out with me tonight.  I haven’t seen you in weeks since you started that research project with… what’s the company’s name?”

“Oh, you wouldn’t know it, it’s just a startup.” Nanami replied, quickly dismissing her friend’s question, Overhaul rolling his eyes in the background.  “And I know, I know, I just haven’t had a lot of time, but I’ll definitely make it up to you, scout’s honor.”

“Well scout, you said that last time, so your honor’s really on the line now. It’s a Friday night and I know you have that cute black dress you haven’t taken out for a spin yet, so what’s it gonna be?”

Hitomi was one of her closest girlfriends and had been asking her to have a girl’s night out for weeks. The excuses were running low and the steam she needed to blow off was running high. After all the work she’d put in, it was time to let loose for once. “You know what… Hell yeah.”

“That’s my girl. I’ll pick you up at your place around 10. See ya. ~”

Ending the call, Nanami was reinvigorated. She had to admit that despite Overhaul being the opposite of a normal guy, it was a bit demoralizing working so closely with a man her age and only being seen as a colleague. I am a young, vivacious, attractive woman and it’s high time I acted like it. Responsibly, of course.

“I presume you’ll be taking your leave for the night?” He queried but sounded disinterested.

“Why yes I will. I have plans.” She said aloud to him. “Plans that involve me looking cute for once.” She remarked to herself eyeing her usual lab coat + sensible business attire critically in the reflection of one of the glass cabinets. Behind her she could tell he was looking in her direction.

“…. What?” she asked, already expecting a smartass answer.

He stared a beat, looking as if he was wanted to say something, but didn’t, “Nothing. We’ll resume on Monday. Have a nice night.”

“Hm. Suit yourself, see you Monday!” Nanami chirped as she almost skipped out of the door, not realizing he hadn’t taken his eyes off her.

 ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 Nanami rushed home, all-too excited about her plans. She hadn’t treated herself to a night of casual debauchery in what felt like eons and was fully prepared to indulge the whims of her friend. Tossing her bag on the counter, she rushed to the shower, shaving her legs and washing her hair. She knew the exact dress Hitomi meant and made a b-line for the back of her closet to retrieve the box it was in. She’d been too shy to wear it before, but Tonight is the night. She confirmed with herself before slipping on the garment.

It was a short, satin black dress with spaghetti straps and a subtle slit along the side, the straight neckline complimenting her delicate collarbone and now-confident, square shoulders. Damn I look good, she thought gassing herself up in front of the mirror. She decided to wear her hair down, styling it simply with a part down the middle.

Throwing on a pair of strappy shoes, it was now 10:01 and the doorbell rang. Looking through the peephole she saw a woman dropping it low, thoroughly invested in making that ass clap while yelling “Ayyyee”.

Yup, Hitomi’s here.

Opening the door, Hitomi turned around greeting her with a huge smile she’d sincerely missed,” Well hello gorgeous. ~” Hitomi beamed as she gave her friend a once over before embracing her, “I missed you, girl.”

“I missed you too,” Nanami replied wholeheartedly, rocking back and forth in the embrace before taking a step back to look her in the eye.  “Are you ready?” Nanami asked, determined to make good on her promise to behave like a “normal” young adult.

“You bet your ass I am... But not before we pregame.” Hitomi said with a devilish grin.

Two shots later and they were in the Guber car. Hitomi chatted about her promotion and the new place she’d just moved into with a killer view. It was nice being a regular twenty-something for a change and getting to talk about all the fun transitions going on in each other’s lives—well, really in Hitomi’s since Nanami had a gag order on half of what she did at present. Still, she listened intently, happy that her friend was thriving.

“So you’re saying I should come over after this?” Nanami chimed in.

“No, I’m telling you you should come over after this. You can borrow some of my pajamas and we’ll make a sleepover out of it!” Hitomi squealed.

“That sounds perfect. Snack run on the way home?”

“You truly are my soulmate,” Hitomi gushed, dramatically. She perked up and gasped, looking past Nanami to the front of the club as the car pulled up.

Stepping out there was a bit of a line and Nanami was already mentally preparing herself to suffer for fashion as her heels were not meant for standing hours on end. Just as she was accepting her fate, Hitomi hooked her arm with her own “Where are you going? I know the manager here.”

“No way, you know I hate skipping lines. We’ll get death stares all night.”

“Didn’t you promise to indulge me tonight? You know, ‘scout’s honor’ and all?” Hitomi cajoled.

“…You’re the worst.” Nanami sighed, admitting defeat. She’d flaked too much to refuse her friend now.

“Knew you’d be a team player. Now let’s get it moving, sweet cheeks.”  

Marching to the bouncer, Hitomi worked her magic and they were in. Nanami was pleasantly surprised it wasn’t loud and rave-like like she’d assumed. The lighting was dark and blue, the dance floor was full of people, moving and singing along to a crowd-pleasing playlist. The bar was at capacity, dozens of drunken hopefuls vying for the stressed bartender’s attention. Despite having a quirk that gave him multiple arms, he was still struggling to keep up. The lounges that lined the wall were filled with people ordering bottle service, putting on airs and trying to look cool as they had to yell at each other over the music just to make casual conversation.  One might think she was judging them, but the opposite was true. It was nice being able to people watch, especially when said people seemed to be enjoying themselves so much. She needed this after the past couple months.

“Come on, let’s get some drinks!” Hitomi yell-whispered in Nanami’s ear over the music.

“Ok, I’ll get in line for us.”

“What? No, this is not the final destination, my sweet. Follow me!”

With their arms still linked, Hitomi led the way up the stairs in the corner of the room, weaving through people that had already drunk themselves underneath the table. The further they went, the more the crowd shifted from casual partygoers to hip bar flies. They continued down a hall until they came to a door with a slit in it, not dissimilar to one you’d find in a medieval castle. Hitomi knocked confidently and Nanami wiggled in excitement at what mystery could be behind the door.  A man on the other side pulled the metal slit open, only revealing his hardened gaze.

“Password.”

“No vermouth for the uncouth” Hitomi recited like it was normal, Nanami trying to keep a straight face.

The slit closed again before the door was opened and they were permitted to enter by the doorman. Upon walking in, Nanami was treated to an ideal speakeasy atmosphere. The lights were low and warm, and the barkeep relaxed as he made artisanal drinks. At the dozen or so small booths people were engaging in easy conversation. This is perfect, Nanami thought to herself, breathing a sigh of relief.

“You’re welcome.” Hitomi winked, knowing this was what her friend desperately needed. She hadn’t said it outright, but she knew Nanami was massively stressed and just needed to feel pretty and relaxed for an evening. She was more than willing to oblige.

Giving her friend an earnest look of gratitude, Nanami hugged her before offering to get them drinks while Hitomi found a spot to sit. Already feeling a little warm and relaxed from their pregaming, Nanami plopped herself on the barstool and waited patiently for the barkeep to notice her. As she studied the space, she saw a wall lined with unmarked bottles, herbs, and other ingredients for drinks. It looked like a mage’s pantry from a fantasy novel and she was here for it. Now where’s the menu… Nanami thought to herself, glancing around.

“There’s no menu miss,” the barkeep replied confidently to her unasked question as he polished a glass. “we make things custom here. Tell me what kind of spirits and flavors you like, and we’ll go from there.”

“Oh, now that’s interesting. Let’s see I’m ordering two drinks, but for me personally, I like gin... green tea.. and…lavender? Yup. I like lavender.” She said thinking carefully about the ingredients and how they’d mix.

“Those are great flavors. I’ll start working on it now. And for your friend?”

She was much more careful about Hitomi’s, wanting to reward her friend for being so thoughtful in choosing this place. “ Hm… She likes rum, most spicy things, and cinnamon.”

“Got it. Sit tight and I’ll have those drinks out for you in a second.”

“Thanks!”

Friendly staff, lowkey, and interesting drinks?  Yeah, I could really get used to this place. Nanami thought contently, already plotting her next visit. She was about to wave down Hitomi to let her know she’d secured the drink order, but someone she assumed to be the manager she mentioned earlier was making conversation and they seemed to be enjoying themselves. Not wanting to interrupt, she stayed at the bar, content to be hypnotized by the barkeep’s expert work in making their ~mystery drinks~.

Just as she was fully relaxing, the door opened, but there was no exchange of passwords this time. She turned to see who the VIP who bypassed the system could be and—Omfg. No,no,no. Absolutely not. Nanami thought as her eyes went wide before she snapped her head back forward, attempting to hide her face. What the hell is he doing here?? Ok don’t panic. Don’t panic. There is zero reason to panic… but still why??” Nanami lamented inwardly. She was tipsy, enjoying herself and definitely not in the proper state to deal with him, but here he was.

Overhaul casually strutted into the room like he owned the place, and Nanami quickly realized it was probably because he did. Shit.

Her hair was in a different style, long enough to hide her face, and the lights were low. She prayed it would be enough to keep him from recognizing her. After a couple minutes she was curious as to where he was, hoping he had silently left the room. Not being completely sober, she thought opening up her selfie camera would grant her an ingenious vantage point of the room. She opened it up and saw him sitting casually in a booth behind her, calmly observing the room while two men sat with him, conversing like old friends. If she hadn’t known who he was, she’d think he was just another very hygienic, handsome stranger—Handsome? Where the hell did that come from, Nanami thought to herself, blaming it on the shots from earlier.

Looking up, she could see the shelving that held the liquor and herbs behind the bar was backed with a stylish mirror. Not wanting to look like a creep with her camera open the whole night, she closed her phone and peered at the mirror, continuing to observe him observing other people. Looking closely, she could see what he was wearing now. He was in his trademark black button-up and slacks, but this time his sleeves were rolled up neatly to his forearms and he went without a tie, the top two buttons of his shirt undone exposing a thin gold chain that matched the studs in his ears and the slightest bit of cleavage. Nanami cleared her throat, continuing to study him. His gloves were black this time, matching the rest of his all-black look. He for sure has a closet neatly lined with 100 of the same outfit. Nanami contemplated as she sipped the drink the bartender had handed her. She’d thanked him, but she was massively distracted while doing so. Her eyes roamed up towards his face, and – Shi—Fuck! Nanami exclaimed inwardly, trying not to choke on her drink as she saw him staring right back at her through the mirror, brow raised questioningly at her. Clearing her throat, she pretended as though nothing had happened, suddenly very interested in her drink.

Just as she was about to look back at the mirror to make sure he hadn’t noticed her lame attempt at espionage, she felt a hand place itself on the small of her back. “You alright miss?”

She looked up to see a man she hadn’t met before. He was dressed in a suit, his hair slicked back and neat. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Coupled with the fact that his hand was still firmly placed on the small of her back, Nanami was beginning to get uncomfortable. “Yes, I’m alright, thank you.” She said with a cheery smile, hoping he would go away.

“It’s not a problem, anything for a beautiful lady.”

Ugh, gag. Nanami reacted instinctually. The entire internet exists and pick-up lines are still this corny…

“So you wouldn’t have helped me if I was unattractive?”

“We—Well no—I mean yes! What I mean to say is, could I buy you a drink?”

Waving her drink, still-half full, she replied” No thank you, I’m covered for now.”

“And what about later?” He intoned suggestively moving further into her personal space.

“Yeah, no. I’m good for... a while. Like a really long while.” She retorted, in her mind effectively shutting him down.

A look of annoyance flashed across his face before he maneuvered his hand from the small of her back to her thigh, “I find that hard to believe. You’re here alone so why not leave with some company?” He was close enough she could smell the alcohol on his breath. About to refute him by saying she’d come with a friend, she saw Hitomi heading for the bathroom. DAMN YOUR BLADDER HITOMI Nanami cursed inwardly.

Just as she was about to pop off, she saw the man’s face sour as he looked behind her.  “Haven’t you been rejected enough for one night? Take a hint.” She’d recognize that tone of arrogance anywhere.

“Um, I can speak for myself.” She said to Overhaul who was now standing at her side. Turning she looked the other man in the eye, “Take a hint.”

“Oh, so that’s what this is. My apologies, I didn’t know the lady was claimed.”  He said removing his hand, taking a step back from her.

“Claimed” whose backwards ass mans is this? Nanami thought, getting progressively irritate.

“Well now you know.” Overhaul replied gravely as he stepped closer to her side. Nanami quickly reeled in her look of surprise at the proximity before using her liquid courage to steel her gaze at the unwanted party.

The other man smiled hollowly, putting his hands up in joking surrender. “Well, it’s a shame we couldn’t pursue this connection further. It looks like I’ll be taking my leave, have a nice night~.” And with that he disappeared into the crowd.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Nanami quickly found herself holding her breath again as she realized the predicament, she was in. Still close to him she slowly looked up to meet his gaze. She expected to get a smart remark, but he stood silently for a couple moments, studying her. She suddenly felt very vulnerable as his eyes roamed over her and she instinctually shifted in her seat. Seemingly realizing what he was doing, he stepped back a bit, looking away, and Nanami found herself missing the warmth.

Feeling the blood rushing to her cheeks, she quickly turned forward again, now fiddling with the straw in her drink. After a moment of tension, she finally spoke.

“I could’ve handled myself.” He quickly turned his head back to her, giving an incredulous look before she finished, “… But thank you.”

His gaze softened, as he sighed and she could tell he was keeping whatever smart remark he had to himself, “You’re welcome.”  He said as he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and dusted off the seat next to her before sitting down. He waved down the bartender who quickly dropped what he was doing to start his drink. Nanami was about to gloss over this detail until the possibility of seeing his face hit her.

Biting her lip and looking around nervously, Nanami wasn’t sure where to take this next. Does this even need to be taken anywhere next?... can it? She thought semi-hopefully, before mentally slapping herself  for being tempted so easily. You are tipsy and thirsty. He doesn’t even see you that way, just a colleague helping out another colleague. Stop making it weird.

“Soo…” she began, nervously tucking a stray hair behind her ear “What brings you here?”

He turned; his brow furrowed.

“Ok, that was cheesy.”    

Rolling his eyes he put her out of her misery by answering, “Just business.”

“Yup. Don’t know why I even as—”

“And... I like it here.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“Well sure, but I just never imagined you liked anything outside of cleaning and…” She pantomimed a little explosion.

He huffed, bringing a hand up to his mouth. Nanami would usually let it slide, but she was 3 drinks in, and feeling talkative. “Was that a laugh?”

“Absolutely not.” He quickly replied, looking away.

Her eyes lit up with excitement. He’s lying. “It’s alright, I won’t tell. My lips are sealed.” She winked.

“It will be easy since there’s nothing to tell.” He replied nonchalantly.

“Hmm,” Nanami hummed, a look of mischief clear on her face, “challenge accepted.”

He narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously,” What do you mean.”

“Oh, it’s nothing, I just have a new goal. You’ve inspired me,” she replied simply pulling her mini-planner and a pen from her bag. She could feel him eyeing her waiting for an answer, but she continued without a word. Opening the notes section, she turned to fully face him, holding the small booklet between them in one hand with a pen in the other.  Glancing between him and the booklet, she began writing something. After a few seconds of this, she nodded to herself in approval and set the planner down on the bar.

Watching her intently, he looked down to see what she’d been scribbling. Even with most of his face covered, she could tell he frowned, as he shifted his gaze back up to her looking completely done with her foolery. It was a simple doodle of what he could only assume was himself, as the only three features in the portrait were his plague mask, short hair, and two dots she meant to be exaggerated angry eyes. Returning his stare, quite proud of herself, she dramatically lifted the pen before placing two tally marks.

“… What is that.” He asked, obviously irritated. She smiled, unclicking her pen while maintaining eye contact. A few months ago she would have taken his irritation very differently, but over time she came to realize just how fun it was to tease him. Being so serious all the time, he’s practically begging for it. Nanami thought, already enjoying herself.

“What do you mean?” Nanami responded feigning innocence.

“Ignoring that terrible attempt at a portrait, I’m referring to the tally marks. What do they mean and why are there already two of them?”

“First of all, you have wounded me. To question my artistic ability so openly… Haven’t you seen the meticulous diagrams I put into our notes?”

“Yes. I have Kurono redraw them after you leave so people won’t think I’m working with a child.” He deadpanned.

Her brows shot up, her face incredulous at the petty remark. He let out another huff, similar to before. Nanami’s mischievous smile returned as she confidently went to put down another tally. What she knew was a smile underneath his mask seemed to drop as he looked at the notebook and then to her in realization.

She raised a brow, continuing to play dumb,” What? I thought we were having a laugh?”

“Erase it. Now.” He said, placing a finger on the bar to emphasize the “now”.

“… I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re always so particular about taking notes, you should be happy.”

“You truly vex me.”

“… That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me. Say it again, slower this time.” She meant to say it playfully leaning closer, but it came out way more sultry than she meant it to thanks to the alcohol. They were mere inches away, close enough that she could smell his cologne and discern the specific hue of gold of in his eyes, I always thought they were more yellow gold, but there’s a little saffron in there too... Registering that she was in fact too close, she quickly sat back in her chair, turning her face which felt very warm all the sudden. She had just finished her drink but pretended to be thoroughly invested in it as she stared straight forward. Out of the corner of her eye she could see his head tilt and would bet money he was smirking under that mask. As he leaned towards her, she felt her heart racing, What’s he doing? Why am I so nervous all the sudden?? Just as she braced herself for the unknown, she heard him pick up her pen. Her notebook still open, he began to write something, though the proximity made her too tense to look. Cautioning a glance, she did a double take as she saw him draw a tally mark next to a small doodle she knew was meant to be a portrait of her.

Looking back up at him as he laid down her pen, she managed to get out,” What does that mean?”

“As you so eloquently put it before, ‘you’ve inspired me’.” He replied simply. The bartender nervously placed the new drink in front of them and Overhaul rose to leave.

Still taking in the exchange, Nanami could only think to ask, “You’re just going to leave your drink here?”

“You can have it; I’ve taken enough of your time. Good evening, Dr. Watanabe.” He nodded to her and then someone behind her before leaving, the two other men he came with following shortly after.

“Well, well, well I didn’t know my friend was such a little minx,” Hitomi purred from behind her, wiggling her brows suggestively.

“What do you?... NO. That was—Just no. Absolutely not. That was my research pa—a colleague.” She responded emphatically, her cheeks still too warm for her liking.

“Wish I had a colleague that looked like that~.”

“Don’t make it weird. Where were you anyway? I needed you a while ago.” Nanami said pouting.

“Sorry I got caught up in conversation with the manager here and when I went to the little girls’ room I saw what I presumed to be a mack session after that creep in the suit left. I just decided to let you work your magic in peace.”

“There was in fact no ‘mack session’. And you weren’t going to come over and back me up when that creep was on my case earlier?”

“When have I ever left you high and dry?” Hitomi asked, offended at the implication that she’d just abandon her friend. “I only stayed put because you were all hugged up with your ‘colleague’ and looked like you had it handled.”

Nanami immediately regretted the insinuation. Hitomi had always had her back and she was just projecting because she knew the truth. Though it turned out alright in the end, when the creep was harassing her, she felt helpless for a moment and she hated it. She didn’t want to have to be saved next time, she wanted to save herself.

“I’m sorry, I just felt small in that moment and lashed out at you. That wasn’t fair.”

“I understand, and forgive you,” Hitomi replied softly, hugging her friend from the side. “You didn’t ask for advice, but if you want some, I highly recommend taking some self-defense classes. People always say you’ll forget all the steps in the moment, but at the very least it might give you a confidence boost.”

“That’s not a bad idea. First thing come Monday; I’m going to start looking. Thanks for being such a good friend.” Nanami smiled warmly. “Now, enough with the serious stuff. You ma’am, owe me a sleepover.”

“Oh, I owe you some hang time now? Well let’s go then. I’ll get a drink too and then we can bounce.”

Nanami was confused for a second before remembering Overhaul had left a drink that she was now responsible for finishing. Sighing and dreading as to what kind of boring drink someone like him would order, she was surprised to see another of her own. Smiling to herself for a moment, she sipped slowly. It was naïve to take his act of kindness at face value, but she found herself contented with the turn of events all the same.

#same difference #overhaul #overhaul x oc #overhaul fanfiction #mha overhaul #mha oc #mha fanfic #chisaki kai #kai chisaki #shie hassaikai #bnha fanfic #bnha #bnha oc #overhaul fanfic #overhaul fluff

[lastluvbug]

If you don't mind, can i request some headcanons for Rook hunt (twst) where he falls in love with a fem Reader? How will he court her/confess to her? Thanks!

Ooh, this was so much fun to write!! Thanks for the wonderful ask, love!

He’s in Love! (Rook Hunt Headcanons)

When he first stumbled across you, he wasn’t very intrigued. Sure, it was interesting that you didn’t have any magical prowess, but other than that? You weren’t anything special, not like his jaw droppingly gorgeous Vil.

Or so he thought. When word spread of your triumphs against the overblotting students, he suddenly found spying on you his new hobby.

Though it wasn’t very often thanks to Epel’s continued escape tricks, Rook used his stealth as a trained hunter to watch you during classes, or sometimes following from a distance when you would be hanging out with your friends.

It really didn’t take long at all for him to start wishing for something more than this one sided distanced infatuation. Maybe you didn’t take care of your skin as you should’ve, maybe you didn’t apply your makeup as flawlessly as Vil, but once he saw your smile, none of that mattered.

That first time he watched you burst into laughter, it was as if the world had busted out into song. The sun shined just a little brighter, the sky was just a little bluer, and hey—are those birds actually singing? Your smile made his day so much better, and if it weren’t for your friends, he probably would’ve marched up and confessed right then and there.

“How magnificent...” he’d whisper later at dinner, the image still stuck in his mind. He’d probably stay up, past the time when he’d usually fall asleep, and risk forming bags under his eyes planning how he’d approach you. In the morning, he made use of that plan.

To say it was incredibly smooth would be a hilarious understatement. He practically swept you off your feet; showering you in dramatized compliments and escorting you from class to class.

And that... basically became your routine. He’d pick you up in the morning sporting one of two personalities. The first, kissing up to you in a singsong voice that made a blush tint your cheeks as you attempted to respond to his bouyant flattery. The second, being much, much calmer, would be him offering an arm and giving you a soft smile as he was oddly quiet, just taking in the scenery as he enjoyed your company.

It was only when Vil pointed out his troubles that he realized—he fell for you, the sunshine to balance his rain, and he didn’t even know it.

From that point on, he became careful with his words, savoring your twinkly laughter and the adorable blush you would wear whenever he teased or complimented you.

Rook’s way of confessing was... most certainly unique.

In the golden hour of the afternoon, he took your arm, and motioned for you to follow him. No words were shared, but little did you know, his heart was fluttering with a new kind of adrenaline that he’d never felt before. It was far off from the high he’d get from hunting, but rather, a nervous excitement he couldn’t do well to channel.

As he led you through the forest, highlighted by the yellow rays peeking through the canopy of thick branches and leaves overhead, he motioned for you to stop once you were a fair distance from campus. Pressing you close to his chest, he pointed to a secluded part of the forest, where, to your surprise and delight, a family of deer lay, unaware of the sudden guests they had to entertain.

He watched with bated breath as you smiled, a light blush powdered over his pale cheeks as the deer cuddled against one another, settling in for the night. “I have something else I’d like to show you, my beautiful little angel,” he’d whisper against your ear, taking your hand and pulling you away from the slumbering animals.

This time, he wasn’t afraid to make noise, pulling you by your hand as you both loudly laughed, exhilarated by the speed. Soon enough, as if you weren’t already panting, you found yourself absolutely breathless as you stood at the edge of a glade, a lake with too shimmery water and surrounded by plush grass sprinkled with wildflowers greeting you.

“What do you think, mon ange?” He’d ask, and when you reply by jumping into the field, he’d follow, feeling a hundred feet tall merely by your presence there.

Later, still bathed in the disappearing golden light of the sun and kneeled by the water’s edge, Rook would approach you, a cleverly weaved flower crown held in his hands.

“Maybe I haven’t know you for very long, ma belle, but I cannot help the songs that sing themselves in my heart when you are around! Gorgeous as the freshly bloomed flower, delicate as the dew on a blade of grass, and kinder than any soul before, would you make this lowly hunter a blessed king of the land by becoming my one true queen?” He’d ask in that tone that always made you giggle, placing the crown over your head as he kneeled.

Of course you said yes—who wouldn’t?

Positively glittering with joy, he’d sweep you into his arms, twirling you around and sending you into a fit of laughter as he himself grinned broadly. Once he set you down, he wasted not a single second before grabbing your chin and pulling you into a deep kiss that finally sealed your approval, running his fingers through your hair as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders.

He’d rest his forehead on yours, dipping you down low as if you were in a dance, before whispering to you in the light that colored him almost heavenly.

“Together, we shall make whole kingdoms envious of our love. There’s is no one more fair than the maiden I hold in my arms—you are the l’amour de ma vie, the love of my life. I am pleased to be yours, forever.”

Here we are! This was honestly so fun for me to create, especially since Rook Hunt has some of the best dialouge in the game.

I hope you enjoyed, and thanks for reading!! Thank you @blackstrawberrynightmare for my first headcanon request!

Stay lovely!!

#twisted wonderland #rook hunt #headcanon #twst #fem reader #vil schoenheit