#so I would love to get some money back somehow also I don’t need billions of paintings hahaha | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

snackhobi · 3 years

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min yoongi is the best shot in the business. you’re the best gunsmith in the city and the only person he trusts to programme his tech; to make his gear.

he likes your work. it’s a shame, then, that he doesn’t like you.

pairing: yoongi x f!reader / word count: 14.3k / genre + rating: NSFW (18+), cyberpunk!au, smut, frenemies (?) to lovers

warnings/etc: hitman!yoongi. black market dealer/gunsmith!reader. cursing/explicit language. whole lotta tension, sexual and otherwise. mentions of injury/violence. minor character death (no one important, don’t worry, this isn’t an angst fic). brief hurt/comfort. reader has tattoos. sexually explicit content. oral; fingering; multiple orgasms; overstimulation (f). unprotected sex (please take the necessary precautions irl). rough sex?. choking. creampie. brief mention of aftercare. I think that’s everything but please lmk if I missed any!

a/n: thank you SO MUCH to both @hobi-gif and @morndas for beta reading this and being so supportive, ily both so much and I owe you my life 🤧💕 as always what was meant to be a short fic turned into a huge one. also this is technically for my 1.1k milestone but it’s a billion years late, oops!

Yoongi really doesn’t like you.

You’re loud. Cocky. Arrogant. You needle him all the time, dig your fingernails in and squeeze, revelling in the way he sets his jaw, the muted spark of irritation in his eyes. You bat your eyelashes and tilt your head, throw it back whenever you laugh and reveal the easing column of your throat, dragging each interaction out with a kind of sadistic pleasure that has him gritting his teeth. Because you love annoying him, getting under his skin, tapping your fingers against the soft swell of your bottom lip as you eye him up, taking your time before you speak.

Infuriating. You’re infuriating and you know it.

It’s unfortunate, really, because you’re unavoidable.

Jungkook had asked, once, why Yoongi doesn’t just go elsewhere. They’re more than familiar with the underbelly of this heaving city, underneath all the neon lights and shimmering holograms and towering skyscrapers and legal tech; the scuttling seams of back alley traders and illegal goods, tech or otherwise. There are plenty of black market dealers, after all, plenty of other vendors he could go to to get the equipment he wants. Plenty of other skilled crafters, artificers, artisans, people who would be more than happy to create the things that Yoongi asks for, that he needs. People who can get their hands on anything you want. For a price.

Yoongi’s answer had been short and succinct.

“She’s the best there is,” he’d said, and that had been that.

Because it’s true. You might be exasperating, maddening, laughing in Yoongi’s face where others might cower or genuflect, but no one is as good as you. All of Yoongi’s gear has been crafted by you; each and every single one of his weapons, his tech, the headpiece that fits so perfectly around the back of his skull that Yoongi often forgets that it’s there, hidden in his hair, unfolding across his eyes whenever he lines up a shot to make the kill—there’s evidence of your work across every inch of his body, hidden away under his clothes, day in, day out. Even when he’s not on a contract Yoongi never leaves anything to chance.

(A walking armoury, Namjoon had called him once.)

(You’d phrased it differently.

You’re always packing, hmm? you’d hummed, rapping your fingernails in a steady beat as you’d leaned back in your chair, smiling with teeth. There was laughter in your words and your gaze, no attempt made to hide your amusement, but after your goading you’d made him a collapsible sword anyway. It’s a beautiful thing, this folding blade, bristling with plasma and energy if Yoongi needs it, lethal and deadly. One of his most prized possessions, something that’s gotten him out of multiple corners, and he owes it—you—his life.)

There’s no one on par with you. You’re a Renaissance woman, a fiercely talented polymath who doesn’t need to rely on anyone else to create the things you create. Low-tech, high-tech, no tech—you make everything from scratch, programme things yourself, hunched over each project in your own workshop with nothing but your mind and your own two hands.

It’s the only reason he puts up with you and your antics, the sharp jibes, the shameless flirting; you’re the most infuriating person he knows, but there’s no one else he would trust with the work that you do.

Unfortunately.

Which is why Yoongi finds himself here, again and again, as familiar with this studio as you are—he watches you work, sometimes, watches you sketch up blueprints and drag your fingers across your array of displays, your world cast in shifting shades of cyan and electric blue from all the tech in here, humming and alive. He likes to see how his equipment is made, after all. It can mean the difference between life and death. He takes this seriously.

It’s the one time you might be quiet. Might be quiet, because you still talk even when you work; flick your gaze between Yoongi and whatever’s set in front of you, that ever present smile spread across your lips, smug and amused. You’re only silent during the hardest jobs. Like right now, you’re intense and focused, a furrow dug between your brows as you survey his sniper rifle—almost shorn in two. (It had been the only thing to hand when he’d had to block a blow from a guard he’d somehow overlooked, no time to draw any other weapons before they’d started to brawl.)

You’d been unimpressed. You’d raised your eyebrows with all the severity of a disappointed mother, bitten words out at him with molten snideness, dripping heat and snark.

“It’s a gun, Yoongi. A gun. You know, something you shoot with? Pew pew? Blammo? I’m not sure what sort of shields and body armour you’ve seen in the past but this isn’t either of those things. Do you want me to sketch some diagrams up for you? Or maybe I could write you a book. Baby’s First Arsenal, Chapter One: The Difference Between Things That Are Guns And Things That Aren’t. Would that be helpful?”

No one else talks to Yoongi like that. No one else would dare. It’s only a rare few that know his birth name and it’s not often that he hears it, more used to the sound of Agust D falling off people’s lips. But that had been part of your price, part of the agreement when he’d first met you and asked for your services: his real name.

Yoongi had let it wash over him, had endured your tongue-lashing before putting the gun down with a heavy finality and thrust it over at you, tired of all your talk.

“Just fix it,” he’d demanded.

You’d laughed in his face.

“As always, your bedside manner leaves something to be desired,” you’d said, taking the rifle from him.

The D-2 Shadow isn’t just a weapon. It’s a piece of art, clean edges and slick lines, and Yoongi is grateful to have it back in his hands. There’s no other sniper rifle like it, made of super lightweight alloy and easy to handle; thermal scope, enhanced stabilisers for accuracy; superior kinetic coils for better shot penetration. Yoongi had asked for the best and you’d delivered. Gone above and beyond, crafted a weapon the likes of which no one else possesses, modified in ways other people can’t even fathom.

And you’d fixed it when he'd almost let it get destroyed. Made it better than new, even, layered it in more alloy to make it stronger without making it heavier, a new material of your own design. If he hadn’t known you as well as he does he’d have worried that it was beyond repair, knows that other gunsmiths would have taken one look at its crumpled body and shaken their heads, but you hadn’t.

Of course you hadn’t. You never do.

You charge him a pretty penny for your work, make him pay through the nose for everything he asks of you, but Yoongi is more than willing to do so. More than capable of paying, coffers lined with more money than he might need, one of the best contract killers there is—the real price he pays is with his sanity, worn away each time you open your mouth. He can’t help but rise to your bait, as derisive as you are; it’s only the smallest things, a sharpness to his otherwise even tone, an angry spark in his eyes, but you pick up on it all.

He’s not your only customer. You don’t extend your services to many, only to the people you want to—Yoongi’s not sure what set of harebrained criteria you have that lets you choose who you’ll sell to and who you won’t but he can’t make heads nor tails of it. He knows he’s not part of your clientele because he’s got the credits to pay, nor is it because he’s one of the most highly regarded hitmen in his line of business.

You don’t just choose people who can afford to pay or people who have a level of power and influence in this dark underworld you inhabit. You really don’t care about those things. You just pick and choose on a whim.

(Once, back when he’d first met you, Yoongi had discovered that you’d concocted an entirely new security system—practically incapable of being hacked, crawling with tech, a level of complexity even the richest elites could barely afford—for some small artist who’d worried that their paintings might get stolen. He was an unknown at the time, this V, squirrelled away in one of the dark corners in the lowest levels of the city, and you’d all but given him some of the best work you’d ever done, undercharged him something chronic.

You’d shrugged when Yoongi had asked why.

“He makes me laugh,” you’d replied.)

Yoongi isn’t your only customer but he’s certainly the only one you seem to treat the way you do. There’s a level of irreverence in everything you do, self-confidence settled across every inch of you like the obnoxious stench of a teenage boy’s body spray, but you seem to take particular pleasure in Yoongi’s displeasure. He’d brought Namjoon along, once, inquiring after an imitation greenhouse, how someone might set up the tech to raise tropical plants that wouldn’t survive otherwise (mostly above board, even; Namjoon might grow illicit plants, poisonous and prohibited, but he likes pretty flowers, too). And there had been none of the mocking that Yoongi receives. None of the wind ups. You’d been pleasant, despite your incessant snark, agreeing to take the job with a smile on your face that Yoongi never gets given.

(It had been infuriating, to know that you’re capable of not being an ass, but you just choose not to be. For fun.)

Yoongi really, really doesn’t like you, but he respects your work. Respects you, even if he’d never admit it out loud.

You keep your word. You don’t supply his competitors, although you claim it’s not loyalty to him and it’s only because they can’t pay as well as he does—winnings go to the highest bidder, you’d said sagely, as obtuse and irritating as always.

But Yoongi knows other sellers will provide anyone who’s willing to pay, freelancers who peddle their wares regardless of affiliation or alliances. You’re beholden to no one and yet Yoongi knows you would never double cross him. Never supply anyone who challenges his work, even if they have the money, even if he’s on good terms with them (it’s not personal, it’s business; Yoongi has no issue with other hired killers as long as they stay out of his way). He knows he can rely on you, which is something to be treasured in these back-crossing back-stabbing backstreets.

So when he makes his way to your door, the details of a new contract still fresh in his mind, he instantly comes to a stop.

There’s something off. He can tell immediately, years of instinct causing the hairs on the back of his neck to rise, every part of him on edge. Everything looks normal, is normal, but there’s a burning in his gut that has Yoongi’s finger itching for the trigger even though there’s nothing to shoot.

You’ve granted him the privilege of access to your workshop, to the other rooms, entered the scans of his hand and eye and voice into the security systems, keep him updated on the varying passwords you cycle through, so he can enter whenever he needs to.

(He’s woken you up on more than one occasion, roused you from sleep for last minute supplies before he leaves for another contract, appearing in the dead of night like a spectre of death, clothing dark and eyes darker, overflowing with weaponry. A looming silhouette edged in strokes of cyan and magenta from the ever present, low-level neon light in your room, so much darker than the bright lights of your workshop. Intimidating.

And you always just roll your eyes and sigh and tell him to keep a better eye on his cache of equipment and climb out of bed for him. You’re so at odds to him in your sleep rumpled clothing and mussed hair, still unafraid even when he’s fully geared and ready to kill; shirt slipping off your shoulder, swathes of bare skin in the place of Yoongi's all-encompassing outfit, shimmering black light tattoos visible on your legs and arms and bare skin of your collarbones, geometric lines in the palest of blues and greens. You hand over whatever he needs and tell him the creds he owes you.

“I’ve already given you a key to my apartment and you haven’t even taken me for dinner once,” you sigh—dramatic and melodramatic—even as you hand over a bundle of crossbow bolts. The synthesised toxin inside the darts is your own concoction, of course, courtesy of the plant matter provided from Namjoon’s greenhouse.

“I’d literally rather be shot in the head than willingly spend time with you,” he replies.

“You wanna fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid,” you say, and just laugh in the face of his unimpressed deadpan. As insufferable as always.)

So he doesn’t need your permission to enter. He’s silent, light-footed as he makes his way inside, scanning each inch of this familiar interior; nothing’s wrong, not yet, but Yoongi can sense something in the air. Something heavy, settled bitter on his tongue, coating the back of his throat.

And then he walks into your workshop.

You’re meticulous. Even when you’re overrun with gear, with parts that have yet to be used, everything has its place. You prefer paper over datapads, too, tack sheets of designs and notes up on the wall, have clipboards and stacks of sheets set neatly in their place, a throwback to a time before tech ruled everything. Yoongi knows the layout of this room as well as he knows his own home, a mental map of straight lines and unwavering coordinates with you in the centre of it all.

Upheaval. Those neat lines of organised cartography have been pulled apart. Ham-handed work, to be sure, more of a statement than anything else; intent to instil fear rather than to destroy (although, Yoongi sees now that one of the monitors has been smashed, display sparking white and blue as it bleeds out electricity.). Even in the darkness of the room—overhead lights off and only emergency lighting on, painting things in shades of dark crimson and pink—Yoongi can tell that whichever interlopers have done this are already gone. The room is empty.

Then the sound of a clatter breaks the silence and Yoongi’s already got his pistol out, drawn without a thought as he approaches the sound that comes from the back room, fleet-footed and silent as he raises the gun and rounds the corner—

And sees you at the end of the barrel.

There’s a first aid kit on the floor. Packs of medi-gel and rolls of bandages and other supplies scattered around your feet. You haven’t even spotted Yoongi yet, in despair at the mess in front of you; he’s never seen you like this, never seen anything other than your veneer of enraging smugness and never-ending energy.

“Y/n?”

You flinch even as your head snaps around, eyes wide—but the second you see Yoongi you visibly relax, even though he’s still holding a gun in your direction.

There’s a bruise blossoming across your left cheek.

“Ah, Yoongi.” The smile that paints itself across your lips is almost convincing despite the dark flower that’s unfolding on your skin, blood rising to the surface and painting it in hues of pain; you wince, a little, when the smile makes your wound ache. Soldier onwards as you act as though nothing is wrong. “I know you’re always desperate for my attention but do you mind giving me a second? I’m kind of indisposed at the moment.”

Yoongi’s lips are set in a thin line. He only has one question on his mind.

“Who did this to you?”

Your gaze flickers before you break eye contact, staring at the first aid supplies on the floor. “What, this? Have you never dropped something before?”

Yoongi ignores your deflection. It only takes a few moments to reholster the pistol, to step over to you, to grasp your chin and tilt your face towards him.

“Who did this to you?”

Yoongi’s tone is quiet and low, firm and undeniable. For the first time since he’s met you it seems as though you’re lost for words, lips parted around a silent sound of surprise as you’re subjected to the full force of Yoongi’s gaze, cutting through you; past every layer of self-inflated narcissism you put on, past every deflection you might make.

There's a beat of silence.

And then you slowly but irrevocably fold underneath the weight of his stare.

You let him lead you, sit you down, bowing to his hands and his directions. You’re silent throughout, lips an unfamiliar shape as they’re pulled down into the slightest of frowns. He’s only ever seen you smile, seen you laugh, self-assured. Never like this.

You seem surprised, startled when he sits across from you and cracks open a pack of medi-gel. Yoongi’s surprised too, although he doesn’t show it, lets his instincts take over and settles into auto-pilot as he reaches for your face. He’s never seen your eyes so round, so wide, watching the hand that descends on your cheek with all the single-minded intent of a man about to fillet a fish—careful and practiced but menacing, maybe. (He doesn’t like you but you don’t deserve to have been hurt and Yoongi can’t just stand by and not help.)

And you don’t shy away. You stare at him as he stares at his fingers, layers the gel evenly across the pain of your bruise, cool and soothing.

It’s only when he’s reached for more medi-gel and touched your cheek for the second time that you finally speak.

“It was one of the Tang cousins.”

Yoongi goes still, fingers resting across your skin, slick with purple gel.

“One of the cousins?”

Yoongi doesn’t like you. But—and God knows what he did wrong in a previous life for this to be true—you’re one of his inner circle, one of the very, very few people he trusts. You’re not friends and he doesn’t like you, but he owes you, owes you a hundred times over, owes you for every successful kill, every silent infiltration, every averted detection. All thanks to your tech and the work you put into it for him. He’s indebted to you.

Yoongi always pays his debts.

“I didn’t even catch his name.” You sound dismissive. Normally you’d laugh, deride the person you’re speaking about, but instead you just sound tired. “One of the low down ones. New kid on the block; someone I didn’t recognise, with some lackeys or similar. Trying to make a name for himself, I think. He demanded that I build weapons for him. I said no.”

The Tang family is a big one, a criminal empire that has its tendrils dug in everywhere. You don’t deal with them, have no interest throwing your lot in with them intentionally or not; it’s a big, formidable family, but it’s not the only one around. You’d be dumb to get involved in that mess of generational, cross-family conflict. You’ll sell things to the highest bidder, shift illicit high-tech stock, build generic modifications that people can buy—but you don’t make bespoke weaponry for just anyone.

You don’t even sell to the heads of the Tang family directly, let alone to some back-alley sewer rat who probably barely has the faintest ties to the family, a single vein of Tang blood in his body, just enough to give him an in.

Whoever this cousin was he must be really fucking stupid to not know that. Stupid to think he could demand anything from you. Stupid to think he could hurt you when you laughed in his face and said no. Anyone with half a brain-cell should know not to fuck with you, know that it’s an honour to even be allowed inside your workshop, that to be told ‘no’ by you is a privilege.

Stupid to think that he wasn’t going to pay for that stupidity.

The pack of medi-gel is empty, the deflated pouch forgotten on Yoongi’s knee as he stares at you. The flecks of biomatter in the gel catch the light, sparkling like glitter in the lavender that’s seeping into your skin; all the surprise is gone from your eyes and instead you’re just watching him, stolid and steady. Analytical.

(You’re smart. Yoongi knows you are. For all that you talk shit and play foolish, he never forgets about that fierce intelligence. Never underestimates you or how perceptive you are. He only wonders what’s on your mind right now; what it is that you see in front of you.)

“Next time don’t let someone in unless you’re certain you’re going to sell to them.”

You scoff in his face. “Alright, Dad. Do you want to update my curfew while you’re at it? Make it ten p.m. instead of eleven?”

Yoongi blinks slowly. You’ve got both eyebrows raised, surveying him with a mixture of amusement and disbelief that he’s trying to tell you what to do (because no one tells you what to do; they wouldn't dare). But you don’t pull away, your knees still touching his, body bowed towards him from when he’d coaxed you closer so he could reach your face—so he knows you don’t mind. Not really.

(Knows you don’t care about anyone’s opinions or rules, only sticking to your own. The fact you’d been shaken from that place of confidence by some thug—even for a moment—doesn’t sit right in Yoongi’s belly. That bitter taste is back in his throat and it’s ice cold, icicles prickling through his blood.)

(He doesn’t like you but you’re one of his people and no one fucks with Yoongi’s people.)

The bruise is still there days later, after you’ve rearranged your workshop back to the way it was, sourced a new monitor to replace the one that was broken. You’re back to smirking, already ready for his request, more bullets for his weapons and super-charged plasma to recharge his sword, but the bruise is a stark reminder of what you’ve been through. So is, too, the new blueprint he spies half finished on your open displays: an automated security system that scans thermal signatures, guns unfolding from the ceiling whenever aggressive movement is detected from an unfamiliar person. Anyone who’s not listed as familiar in the security logs.

(Yoongi used to wonder about that. Why you didn’t have security mechs set in place, programming their AI to protect you, but you don’t like to use mechs. Don’t like to use them, even if you could afford to build them, because you compare it to forced servitude. You’ve never needed them before now, anyway. Safe in your reputation, knowing that you’re in a position of power, that people come here because they know you’re the best of the best.)

(But it seems like you don’t trust that any more. Don’t feel safe.)

Yoongi keeps as silent as always, bites his tongue when you cut him off mid-sentence with nothing more than a raised finger.

“Ah, ah, ah,” you tut, wagging the finger back and forth like the slow pendulum of a grandfather clock. “No more crafting requests. I’m still working on the concentration mod you asked for and I’ll let you know when it’s ready. I don't rush for anyone. Patience is a virtue, baby. Did no one ever tell you that?”

“Don’t call me baby.”

“Okay, handsome.” Your reply is instant, unruffled, and Yoongi grits his teeth.

But still. For all that you’re acting like normal, workshop set back into place, white lighting shining overhead, as neat and presentable as always—Yoongi can read uncertainty in the way you move. Discomfort. You don’t feel safe in your own space and it’s obvious, even if you don’t realise it.

“Come back any time,” you say coyly, and Yoongi, as always, ignores you. Transfers the creds he owes you in silence before he takes one last look at the bruise that’s still painted across your skin, dark eyes touching yours for the briefest moment before he turns and leaves.

For the first time since you met, Yoongi buys from someone who isn’t you.

It’s not bad. Well made, decent tech, Predator pistol sitting easy in his hands when he brings it to the light and watches it unfold from its holstered state, the way plasma bursts to life in the barrel; weaker than bullets but easier to reload in the field. It’s no surprise that the Yeom family gets their stuff sourced from here. The body armour, too, isn’t bad, engraved with the family crest and cast in their colours.

It’s not bad, but it’s not as good as it could be. Not as good as Yoongi needs his tech to be, demands it to be—but quality doesn’t matter. Not today. He has a job to do.

It’s easy to find his mark. Scum gathers in stagnant water, in the dirtiest and dankest places, and this is where Yoongi finds Tang Lee. Finds him spilling beer and money in the backroom of some grimy strip club where the holograms flicker from age and the strippers are tired, trying their best to scrape a living from the seething riverbed of filth that runs underneath the bright neon lights of the skyscrapers in the levels above.

Lee isn’t alone but it’s so easy to take them out it’s laughable, men drunk from cheap alcohol; Yoongi catches one in a chokehold, smashes another’s face into the glass table with enough force it shatters, faces Lee once they’re the only two standing. The music outside is too loud and the room is sound proofed for privacy and so Yoongi isn’t interrupted as he brings Lee to his knees, thrusting his face into a smear of blood that drips from his now-broken nose, courtesy of a quick jab of Yoongi’s right fist.

It’s not a quick kill. It could be. Yoongi could have ended this in moments, caught Lee off guard and ended his miserable life almost effortlessly—but he doesn’t. He takes his time, makes it count, teaches him a lesson, has Lee on his hands and knees as he sobs out apologies and snivels for mercy before he takes the pistol and blows his brains out. Yoongi doesn’t feel sorry for the man, eyes the body impassively, not even worth his disgust—he only feels sorry for whoever finds the chaos of the room and the bodies inside, the distinct plasma burns he purposefully leaves in the wall with the Predator pistol, the entire scene he’s created here: a scuffle gone wrong, fast.

You’re not the only person Tang Lee has crossed but you’ll be the last. Yoongi checks the pulses of the other two men, finds one dead and the other still alive, barely, just like he’d planned—and his work is done. It’s the Yeom family’s problem now, any fall out from Lee’s death pointed at them, a repayment of a slight Lee had made to a Yeom supplier only a few weeks ago. (Yoongi wagers that neither family will care, will draw a veil over this moment and let this settle without raising arms, no one important enough to go to war over.)

He discards the pistol and armour once he’s done, incinerates it all, no interest in keeping subpar equipment. It’s not even worth dismantling for parts. Hoseok finds him in their basement, eyeing the blue flames that lick their way around the discarded armaments; he just watches Yoongi, inscrutable and calm as he eyes the blood on the clothing before it bursts into flames.

“Not a contract,” Hoseok says. (It’s not a question.)

“A job.” Yoongi replies, watches the cloth turn to ash through the thrumming display of the incinerator. “Something that needed to be done.”

He doesn’t tell anyone what he’s done. There’s no point in it. Yoongi decides something needs to be done and he’ll do it, whether that’s building a new chair for Jungkook after he broke his old one or killing a man who hurt you.

The next time he sees you your bruise is practically gone, faded into your skin. You’re intent on something on a monitor but when you notice him you turn, swivelling in your chair in one smooth motion as you lean back and put your hands behind your head, cross one leg over the other, dripping self-satisfaction, your smile sharp and full of teeth.

“Ah, Yoongi.” You look so smug that Yoongi has to resist the urge to roll his eyes. “Welcome, once again, to my laboratory. Is this visit for business or pleasure? Either way, you know I'm happy to oblige.”

“I’m here for the mod you promised me,” he says bluntly, and you just keep smiling, even as you hold out a hand for the sniper rifle, handling the D-2 Shadow with as much reverence as Yoongi does as you affix the mod.

It’s perfect, of course. All that Yoongi asked for and more. The software links with his eyepiece, biometric sensors that help him find his target, software to adjust to his pulse and breathing.

“You can even change the colour of the HUD,” you say, as if it’s some sort of buy-one-get-one-free offer, some fun little feature, rather than another helpful piece of software that you’ve created. Dismissive. An afterthought.

(You act like you take nothing seriously. Yoongi is your stark opposite, weighing everything in his hands and treating it with the level of attention it deserves, intent and focused.)

He’s staring down the scope when you speak once more. Light and easy, for once, rather than loud with your usual exaggerated exuberance or silken with unnecessary suggestiveness.

“I hear that they found a Tang family member dead.”

Yoongi just hums in response. Keeps his eye on the scope, wills the colour from dark green to white using the affinity link he has synced with his headpiece, watches the lines of the heads up display of the scope repaint themselves without even a single flicker, transition smooth and effortless. (Perfection.)

“It seems like the Yeom family did it,” you say, tone still conversational.

“Is that so.” Yoongi sounds disinterested, face impassive as he draws the gun away from his face, eye piece automatically folding away from his eyes. “Can I ask about other mods now that this one is finished?”

One of your brows rises, a perfect curve of discontent. “Say thank you first, Yoongi.”

Yoongi’s eyes cut into yours but you don’t back down, watch his blank face as he eventually says: “Thank you. Now I need more mods.”

You throw your head back as you laugh. “You’re insatiable,” you say, but you don’t say no. “What do you want now?”

(It’s not that you never say no to Yoongi. Because you have, and you do, and you will. But never because you can’t make what he asks for—and only because you refuse to make things that might endanger his safety, illicit bio-mods that other hired hitmen use, things that degrade the body from the inside out.)

Yoongi’s just holstered the Shadow, ready to go, when you speak one final time.

“Yoongi?”

He’s never heard you say his name like that, soft and quiet.

“Thanks.” You’re staring at him, regarding him steadily, solemn in a way that he’s never seen. You’re smiling, as always, but the expression is lightyears away from what Yoongi is used to—just the barest hint of an upturn to your lips.

Yoongi stares back at you. “I don’t know what you’re thanking me for.”

Your smile grows, a warm thing, unfurling like a flower. Almost affectionate. “Sure,” you say. “Of course. Silly me. Slip of the tongue.” And then, as if your brain’s only just caught up with what you just said, the smile turns salacious. “On the note of slipping the tongue—”

“Bye.”

Your cascading laughter follows him on his way out, cutting and shining with amusement.

Yoongi’s been getting more contracts. He’s finally buckled under Jungkook’s insistent whining and has agreed to get gear for him, too, to train him how to shoot. Hoseok has more than enough contacts in the underworld to get jobs for them both—he’s the most powerful information broker around, after all, sitting in the centre of a web he’s woven after years of work, all that sharpness and darkness hidden behind his deceptively bright smile.

(Yoongi’s lucky to consider him a friend and not an enemy.)

So that’s why he’s here with increasing frequency. That’s why he finds himself at your door more often than not. To get those orders in place, to make sure they’re progressing as fast as they need to.

You never react when Yoongi steps into your workshop. Well, you do, you lean into your hand and smirk at him, pursing your lips around each snide remark, each suggestive comment—but you never question his appearance. You just go with the flow, unbothered by his presence, even when there are other people there—other customers who eye him with unveiled curiosity and confusion (some Yoongi recognises, some he doesn’t, well-known faces and unknowns alike; none of them know who he is, though, unrecognisable as Agust D without his battle gear on). Yoongi keeps a close eye on their stances, any unchecked aggression or hostility towards you. Keeps a watch on the tension of your shoulders and spine, because of… habit. Battle instinct. Nothing else.

“You know my policy, Yoongi.” You’re analysing something in your hand. It looks like an antique spyglass, something from the decades before technology overtook the world, but it’s jammed full of tech; it doesn’t just magnify to a terrifying degree, it also amplifies sound, connected to an earpiece that’s sleek and easy to overlook. ‘A small project’, you’d called it, as if it isn’t something that people would pay a fortune to own. “If I’m making something for someone I have to meet them first. If you want me to make anything for this ‘JK’ then it’s not happening until you bring him here. Just like with your friend RM.”

Yoongi is lolling by your monitors, half-asleep in your chair (which had moulded to the shape of his body the second he sat in it, designed to be too comfortable for its own good).

“I know you can’t pull yourself away from me,” you continue, glancing up from the scope. “But you have to spend time with your friends sometimes. I know they’re not as pleasing to look at as me—”

“Stop.”

You shift the spyglass to one hand and lean your chin on the other, regarding him with sharp eyes and an amused quirk to your lips. “I love that you think you can tell me what to do.”

Yoongi resists the urge to make a noise at the back of his throat, opting to keep mum instead.

He’s too tired to argue with you. He’d come straight after a contract, blood still on the edge of his sleeves (not his), watched the way your eyebrows had risen when you’d casually taken in the state of him before offering to wash his jacket. You know the reality of this world you both inhabit, operating in the shadows, survival paid for in blood; you might not be on the high ground, lining the shot up to take the kill, but you craft the trigger that Yoongi pulls.

(You might be aware of this reality but you’re far removed from it, shaken by violence on your own door. You never should have been faced with it. You’re an inventor; a creator. Not a killer. Not like Yoongi is. He’s not going to let that happen again. He doesn’t like you but you shouldn’t have been subject to pain—shouldn’t still have your motions edged with a held breath, as if you’re waiting for it to repeat itself.

No matter how well you hide it, Yoongi knows that there's a part of you that's still scared.)

“I know you think you’re too important to need to remember things, but we’ve worked together for long enough that you know that I’d ask to meet JK first, Yoongi,” you say. “Did you really have to come straight after murking someone just to be reminded about that? Not complaining—you know I love seeing that pretty scowl of yours—but I just figured you’d rather be resting right now. Don't tell me the infamous Agust D missed me and decided to come here instead.”

“You were on the way.”

(He’d circled around, taken a longer route, descended into the familiar maze of the lower city. To throw off the scent of any potential pursuers. You just happened to be nearby, pure coincidence and convenience.)

You retract the spyglass, collapsing it in your hands. “Either you leave right now and go to your own place to sleep, or you’re going to sleep in my bed. Your choice.”

(If Yoongi took the time to think about it, really think about it, he’d notice that the words aren’t shrouded in suggestion or insinuation. Your brows are raised and you’re looking at him expectantly, waiting for him to decide what he’s going to do—unimpressed at how tired he is, how he’s come here instead of sliding into his own bed for the rest he so clearly needs.)

Of course, Yoongi leaves. He returns home without his jacket, strips his shirt off as soon as he’s in this safe place, this base, sheds pieces of his body armour as easy as anything (you’d designed it to be lightweight and easy to don and doff, the perfect defence for someone who relied on stealth and speed); he’s just removing the last greave when Hoseok appears, rapping his knuckles against the open door.

“You’re finally back.”

Yoongi looks up. Hoseok is dressed for work, Hope Broker persona in place, tailored suit that sits perfectly with the lines of his body, handsome and stylish and entirely put together. He oozes poise and power. Elegance.

“Yeah.” Yoongi lets the greave drop, silent as it falls to the floor. “Job’s done.”

Hoseok smiles. It’s a genuine one because it’s for Yoongi. “I know,” he says, even though scarcely any time has passed since Yoongi put a bullet in the back of the target’s skull. Nothing happens in this world of theirs without Hoseok finding out about it, always sooner rather than later. “Just wanted to check in and make sure you were okay.”

“All good.”

“Good.” Hoseok is used to Yoongi’s blunt nature, his short responses when he’s tired. “Get some sleep.”

Hoseok’s elegant even as he adjusts his cufflinks. It’s just the briefest of moments, the crisp edge of his perfectly white sleeve contrasting with the shining silver, the design inlaid in them—but Yoongi recognises that design immediately.

Because it’s yours.

It’s the same emblem on each piece of his gear, small and understated, hidden away, easy to miss—but Yoongi knows it intimately. He doesn’t say anything. Lets Hoseok leave without a word. Each one of the men that Yoongi considers family, the tiny collection of people that stay in this same home as him, know that he only gets equipment sourced from you—but Hoseok had never mentioned that he’s been in contact with you, too.

It’s not important. Hoseok might be his friend and a staunch ally but there’s plenty that he gets up to that none of the others are privy to, trading information to the highest bidders, head of a huge network that Yoongi can use to his advantage but isn’t technically a part of. The people Hoseok deals with—buys his information and resources from, keeps perfectly balanced in comparison to his own power—is his own business and not Yoongi’s.

Yoongi moves to gather his armour, the hardsuit he wears like a second skin, and spots that insignia that he knows so well branded into it. To have Hoseok wearing it at his wrist—the Hope Broker, renowned trader of secrets—is a statement. You could have made the cufflinks plain and unadorned. But you hadn’t.

When Yoongi climbs into bed that night, he finds that his sleep is restless.

The smile on your face fades. “You know I don’t talk about business with other customers.”

Yoongi’s staring at you across your workbench, the light from its surface going dim as you take your hands off it, disassembled stun mine forgotten.

No one knows about his genuine friendship with Hoseok, but they do know that Agust D and the Hope Broker have an agreement; a professional working relationship. “I know the Hope Broker,” Yoongi says.

Your eyebrows rise so far they seem to threaten to ascend into your hairline, you’re so incredulous. “Everyone does. What’s your point? Do you expect me to give you information about everyone you ask about? I get paid to keep people’s privacy, Yoongi. Do you think I sell the information of your equipment, how to dissemble every defence you have? Do you think I give your name out to everyone who asks?”

There’s no touch of amusement to the line of your lips, no sparkling irreverence in your eyes. You’re genuinely displeased.

“He’s wearing your symbol.”

You scoff. “You wear my symbol too. Why, are you jealous? Your armour has exactly the same technology. Better, even, because I can fit more tech in there.”

The cufflinks generate a kinetic barrier, then, a layer of invisible shielding that lays just atop Hoseok’s skin. But no one sees Yoongi’s armour; no one sees the workmanship of your weapons, no one except him. Your insignia isn’t emblazoned on his wrist for all to see.

Yoongi isn’t jealous.

“Hope is a powerful man,” you continue. “Everyone knows that. Even people who haven’t met him know that. Even people who aren’t sure he exists know that. If I want to sell to him then that’s my business.”

Everyone who’s anyone recognises your logo, no matter how rare it is to spot it (you only craft for a select few, after all). And Hoseok’s influence is far reaching and powerful; no one would dare cross him, dare to cross anyone who’s associated with him.

“I’m looking for a new workshop.” You rise, moving away from your workbench to your monitors, touching a display with your fingers to bring it to life. Ignoring Yoongi’s presence, not even looking at him. “I haven’t got the space to modify the systems in this one as much as I want to. The walls are already full enough as it is. Do you know how hard it is to find somewhere with the specifications I need?”

Yoongi realises, then, why you’re doing this. The bruise is long gone and your skin is unmarred but you still don’t feel safe. You’ve always worked alone. Until now. Now you’re making moves to settle down, settle in, make a statement of allegiance to someone who can offer you a level of protection with their influence.

Someone who can offer you somewhere new, away from this inadequate place you’ve outgrown.

Hoseok laughs lightly when Yoongi asks about it, mentions it in passing as the two of them drink soju side by side, Hoseok in his suit and Yoongi girded in the armour under his unassuming clothes, both in the upper city for work; they stare down at the myriads of tall buildings and huge holo-boards and rainbow array of neon lights, far above the place they call home.

“Oh, yeah,” he says, utterly relaxed (and faintly amused). “I know you respect her work so I thought I’d reach out. I’m surprised she can make the things she does in that tiny workshop. You’re right; she’s very good.”

You are. The next time you meet, you give Yoongi his usual shipment and more besides, more than he’d ordered, reflected in the amount of creds he has to pay—because he won’t be able to just drop in for a while, your workshop dismantled and scraped empty in preparation for the move. Where to, he doesn’t know, but you say you’ll pass on the information once everything is up and running again.

“If you break any of your gear while I’m gone then you’re on your own,” you say. “I’m not shipping anything before my new workshop is finished.”

Two days later, Yoongi spies a new watch on Hoseok’s wrist. It looks low-tech, old style, metal strap and round clock face—but he sees the silhouette of your logo under those ticking hands and knows there’s more tech in there that meets the eye.

He looks away.

It takes a week for the message to appear, encrypted: your new location. Levels above your former workshop, one of the higher strata of the lower city—still hidden and out of the way but away from the dirt and darkness.

Yoongi goes. He finds the door panel, scans his palm, leans forward for the light to flit across his eye, murmurs a word, watches the door slide open. He’s already programmed in. New workshop, new security system, but he’s still allowed in, still one of the people you consider familiar, trustworthy.

(He doesn’t know of anyone else who fits that category. Has only ever seen you manually allow people inside, granting your permission each time, rather than giving them free run of the place. No one has as many complex orders as he does, he’s certain. It’s for ease and practicality’s sake.)

He’s unfamiliar with the layout of this new building, first corridor already longer than he’s used to; he pauses for a moment but then hears something, faint—your laughter. Follows that sound, makes his way forward, through polished corridors with lines of light underfoot, leading him down some stairs and towards the sound of you.

Your new workshop is beautiful. There’s enough room in here for everything, no need for a backroom: a central worktable, benches lining the walls, tech displays built in, everything edged with lighting, dark surfaces shining bright, large floor panels underfoot emitting a low glow. Your former home had been that underground workshop and a locked door to a ladder to your micro apartment up top, tiny kitchen and single bed in a small room with a shower cubicle in the corner. Yoongi already knows that this building is far, far bigger, and you have more space than you’ve ever had before; you’d never been discontent with your smaller home, comfort from familiarity, until that comfort had been stripped from you.

You’re smiling. The snark woven into your words that Yoongi is used to is muted, light comment falling from your lips as you sit on that central table, perched on its edge. And Hoseok, he laughs, grinning so widely his teeth are on show—he’s wearing a suit but his jacket is resting on his shoulders, tie undone and cast around his neck. A stance of relaxation, one Yoongi’s never seen from him, not when he’s working. Not when he’s The Hope Broker and not Hoseok.

He’s still smiling when he notices Yoongi, the two of you looking over when the hitman speaks.

“Didn’t expect to see you here, Hoseok.”

That ever-present smirk freezes on your face for a split second, eyes widening at the sound of Hope’s real name. Hoseok just takes it in stride, his smile not dimming even for a second.

“Hey, Yoongi.” His greeting is as warm as it always is. “Just checking in. Have to make sure everything is up to scratch. What’s the verdict?”

You’ve hidden your surprise, wiped it off your face, eyes on Hoseok as you answer him. “It’s perfect.” A pause. “I take it you two know each other?”

“Sure. Yoongi is an old friend of mine.” Hoseok is still smiling, looking at Yoongi with creased eyes. Unafraid of revealing this information to you, still at ease despite the tension that’s bubbling in the air, Yoongi’s impassive face. Hoseok is always an unshaken pillar of positivity. “I didn’t realise he was coming. Am I interrupting an appointment?”

You stare at Yoongi. “No, you’re not. I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

(You’d sent the message less than an hour ago. Yoongi had taken one look at the address, memorised it, pulled on his jacket and headed out; clearly you hadn’t anticipated how fast his arrival would be.)

“A happy coincidence, then.” Hoseok sounds like he genuinely means it, is pleased to see Yoongi here, his smile unwavering. There’s a languid set to his body, the easing line of his spine, hands in his pockets. A glittering in his eyes. (No one ever gets the drop on Hoseok, never surprises him, catches him off guard, no matter what they do.) “But I’ll let you conduct your business and we can catch up another time.”

He takes a hand out of his pocket as he walks past Yoongi, pats his shoulder amicably. His palm is relaxed against the tense set of Yoongi’s shoulders before he ascends the stairs and disappears out of sight, the sound of his polished shoes fading until he’s gone, one of the monitors on the wall flickering to indicate the front door is shut once more.

You’re still staring at Yoongi. The atmosphere had been heavy, even with Hoseok there—and now that he’s gone there’s nothing to alleviate that pressure, nothing to dissolve the strange twist to the air.

“Who,” you start, measured but sharp, “do you think you are?”

Yoongi returns your stare, looks back at you with his dark eyes. Doesn’t respond to your question; an unnecessary, unprompted thing, razor-edged for a reason he can’t discern.

“Can’t you hear me?” You slide off the table, stalk towards him. “I said—” you raise a hand— “who? Do? You? Think? You? Are?”

You emphasise each word with a sharp jab to Yoongi’s chest, driving your finger forward with so much force it must hurt. You keep it in place, keep it dug into the centre of his ribcage. There’s no laughter hidden in the corner of your lips. He’s annoyed you again, somehow, a familiar guest turned unwelcome interloper.

“You say that you know Hope and yet I just watched you treat him like dirt.” Your eyes are piercing, cutting through the soft frame of your curled lashes, boring straight into him. “You come into my workshop as if you’re meant to be here; like there’s something you’re owed. Do you want me to treat you like a child, send you to your room? Not let you back in here? Because I will.”

“You sent me your address,” Yoongi points out.

You let out a bark of laughter. “Please.” Your hand drops back to your side and you turn, stepping away. “I’ve sent this address to all my business associates. I can’t sell or buy unless people can find me. You’re the only one who’s taken this as an invitation to just turn up and waltz in. At least when Hope turns up he warns me beforehand. Oh, and he doesn’t say stuff like he’d rather blow his own brains out than be forced to see me. I know you just love being contrary but has it ever occurred to you to be more polite to people? You’d make a terrible waiter. You’d get fired on your first day.”

You’re in front of one of your cabinets. You reach inside for something, hefting it in your hands before returning, handling it in a way that’s completely unceremonious, dropping it to the bench at his side like you want to be rid of it. Like you don’t even want to hand it directly to him, to interact with him. “There. Nothing but a pleasure doing business with you, Yoongi, even if your customer service still needs improving.”

It looks like a flat, hexagonal panel, the same colour and material as his armour. Something to be locked into it, wired in, trailing veins of unattached tech spilling from it. He’s seen you working on this for a while, seen you draw up blueprints with a bruise fresh on your cheek, seen it turned in your hands as that mark had faded and left your skin.

It’s not something he ordered.

“What is this?”

You wave a dismissive hand. “Auto medi-gel distributor. It syncs with your armour and senses when you’ve been hurt and disperses gel in the affected area. Your armour’s always been too lightweight to have extra mods on but I’ve been working on this for a while.”

It’s an astonishing piece of tech. Usually one that’s reserved for heavier armour, restricting and hard to move in but easier to mod—but this thing is slim, compact, the same technology crammed into a smaller package without losing any of its punch. He doesn’t know what materials you’ve had to use to circumvent this, the level of tech you’ve layered into this, the amount of time and thought you’ve put into this.

“How much is it?”

The wrong thing to say. The smile that spreads itself across your lips is an echo of its usual curve, brittle and flaking around the edges, a baring of teeth.

“It’s a gift, Yoongi. Usually when someone does something for you, you return the favour.” Your lips are still upturned but your eyes are unsmiling even when your tone seems whimsical and light. You’ve got on your usual flippant façade, but there’s a pointed undercurrent to it. “You know, I don’t understand you at all. You remind me that you don’t like me but then you always hang around. You kill someone who threatened me and pretend that you didn’t do it. You say you don’t like me, but I thought you at least respected me, and yet here you are. Lying to me and treating me like I'm a fool.”

“I do respect you,” Yoongi says.

(Because he does, and as much as he would hate to inflate your ego, he doesn’t shy away from telling the truth.)

“Sure you do.” An unimpressed eye-roll, cutting under his words, knocking his feet out from underneath him. You don’t care to believe him. “This is my fault for not treating you the same as all my other business associates. Next time you come in you’ll have to have an appointment, just like everyone else. It’ll minimise the amount of time we have to spend together.”

Yoongi doesn’t like you. He finds, though, that he likes the sound of this even less; finds it pulling at his brows, his mouth, impassive expression turned to one of disapproval.

And his mouth opens. The word falls from his lips before he has a chance to think—years of battle intuition, years of following instinct, moving as he needs to in the moment.

“No.”

A raise of the brows. A purse of the lips. Incredulous. “No?” you parrot it back, mocking. “Oh, okay, sure. Never mind. You’re welcome to come in whenever you want and act like you have free rein of the place. There’s nothing I enjoy more than your scowling presence.”

Sharp tongued, sharp eyed, narrowed at him: a confrontation. For all that you needle him you never mean it, really (even if it’s still infuriating, aggravating). But right now? Right now each of your words is barbed, your sarcasm a defence, an offence. You’re running your mouth not just to rile him, but to ward him away.

“You’re really not as smart as you think you are, Min Yoongi.” You wield his name like a weapon. “You tell me right now why I should listen to you. What do you come here for? And don’t say it’s for my work because it stopped being just that a long time ago. And if it is just for my work then take it and go. Then I’ll take you off the security system and we’ll only see each other as much as is strictly necessary. In fact, you could pass your orders along via Hope—then we won’t have to even see each other at all. ”

“And then he’ll be the only one allowed free rein?”

It comes out before he’s even really thought about what he’s saying, which isn’t like him at all. Yoongi is two parts: pure, honed instinct, and careful, wary vigilance. He’s not like you, saying the first thing that comes to mind—not normally, anyway—but the words jump from his lips, from some near-silent part of him that balks at the idea. Of Hoseok stepping into your space the way that Yoongi does, appearing without warning, to be greeted with a curled smirk and glittering eyes.

“You’re a fucking idiot if you think that you’re not the only person with security clearance. My God. You’re infuriating. Seriously? I didn’t realise you were genuinely this dense. You’re the only one I’ve ever allowed in without prior agreement.” You emphasise this statement with another jab to his chest, your finger a sharp knife that cuts into him as you stab it forwards.

He catches your wrist. His grasp is firm but there’s no pressure to it; doesn’t squeeze, doesn’t tighten his fingers, just holds you in place. You’re staring at him with a challenge in your eyes, one that he finds himself rising to match, never one to back down.

“Is that so?”

Your hand unfurls, fingers splayed across his chest; he’s still holding your wrist, shifting with your movement. “Don’t be obtuse.” An irritated exhale. “Normally you complain whenever I talk and now you’re trying to get me to repeat myself. Again with the inconsistency, Yoongi. Make up your mind.”

He could do what you do whenever you’re feeling particularly aggravating. Play dumb, ask more questions, drag out the interaction until you’re bordering on snapping—but he doesn’t. He looks at the set of your jaw, the way you’re staring at him. Unflinching. You’ve never been scared of him, and you aren’t now, not with how he’s got a hold of you, how close he is to you.

He toes the line. Shifts closer. Notes the way your pupils dilate, how the tips of your fingers dig into the fabric of his shirt; how the air grows heavier, a frisson of electricity crackling through it. Yoongi doesn’t like you, but he likes that feeling—how the tension in the air shivers from indignation into something different.

Because you’re still staring at him, and there’s still that hard set to your jaw, but there’s not just anger in your eyes. There’s that warm thing he’s grown used to seeing, smouldering in near silence until he’d coaxed it to full flame, thrown gasoline onto the coals when he’d shot plasma into the back of Tang Lee’s skull. He’d protected you even though he hadn’t needed to, doesn’t need to, but does anyway—because he trusts you and there’s no one else he trusts to keep you safe.

And there’s no one else you trust, either.

“You talk too much,” Yoongi says, like he so often does—but there’s no irritation in it, touched instead with a simmering heat, the faintest edge of a bite.

You tilt your head. There’s a provocation etched into the twist of your mouth, the way your lips lift. Because no matter how much you needle him, dig your fingernails into every crack of his armour and twist—no matter how annoying you are, how angry you make him—you know that he’s not mad. Not really. Not in a way that makes you afraid, but in a way that thrills you, makes you want to see him snap, to wipe away that level facade he maintains.

“Maybe you should shut me up, then,” you reply, a murmur. A challenge.

A beat. Yoongi’s fingers tighten around your wrist. A warning.

And in response?

You just smile.

The way your eyes widen just seconds later is delicious, though, when Yoongi lets go of your wrist—because he’s moving faster than you expected. Your surprise melts into delight, a spark of glee that says you’ve gotten exactly what you want when Yoongi threads his fingers in your hair, tilting your head back to bare the column of your throat. He holds you firmly in place, crowds you back against the workbench so hard its edge must be digging almost painfully into your back but not once does that glee dim, written over every line of your smile, eyes bright and teeth sharp.

Yoongi likes to take things slow. There’s the part of him that never steps into a situation without knowing every angle, every escape route, each one of his kills planned meticulously. But, he thinks, the two of you have been waiting long enough, and he’s never been patient around you—has found his composure worn thin faster than anywhere else, by anyone else. It’s this part of him, frayed into non-existence by you, that rises to the surface now, makes him move as quick as he does.

And you respond just the way he knew you would. When he presses his mouth to yours you kiss him back like you have a point to make (you always do), fast and almost reckless, all lips and teeth and tongue. There’s no finesse to it. When he presses his tongue into your mouth you part your lips so prettily, let him take his fill, slide your tongue against his and tilt your head to get even deeper—and just like always, you're vocal, letting out small noises that are caught and muffled in the kiss, lust filled. But when you try to nip at his lip with the edge of your teeth Yoongi tightens his grip in your hair and swallows down your gasp before he pulls away, holding you in place so you can’t chase after his mouth. Your lips are kiss swollen and under the bright lights above they shine, slightly parted, pupils blown as you stare at him.

(You look good like this.)

Your eyes slide shut when Yoongi lowers his lips to your neck, across your throat. There’s nothing gentle about it. He moves with single-minded intent, lips and teeth harsh against your sensitive skin—and you take it all, little sounds falling from your lips as Yoongi drags his teeth towards the hollow of your neck. And when he takes his hand from your hair, takes both hands and digs his fingers into your waist and lifts you, you go so easily; a mimicry of your earlier position when he’d stepped in, perched on the edge of the table. Legs spread so Yoongi can stand between them. He’d be surprised at how pliant you are if it wasn’t so obvious that this is exactly what you want: lifting your hips so he can strip your lower half bare.

Your bare thighs press against the surface of the workbench, tech displays coming alive under your body heat. You’ve shrugged your cropped jacket off and you’re just reaching for your top when Yoongi stops you; splays a hand in the centre of your chest and presses you back, slow but undeniable. You’re not the one setting the pace. He is. He’s the one in control, with you spread out in front of him, only a thin layer of fabric keeping you from being completely bare—thin cotton underwear, dark and damp between your legs, betraying your arousal.

“Wet,” Yoongi murmurs.

Your retort stutters on your lips when he drags his fingers upwards over your slit, barely dulled by the material in the way. “No shit,” you say, and then suck in a breath when he presses the pad of his thumb across your clit.

It’s no good, the fact you’re still talking. But that’s okay. Yoongi’s planning on changing that.

It’s lewd, the way your legs are spread, parting further at the urging of his hands. Your hands slide across the bench, papers scattering, palms flat on the work surface and white light shimmering on dark blue in reaction to your touch; an unnecessary distraction that you both ignore. There’s nothing graceful about this, the peel of underwear away from your core, already slick even with the barest of attentions; he drags his fingers down the inside of your thighs, all that soft skin, and then under, urging your hips up and towards his mouth. No foreplay to this foreplay, no dragging out this moment—he bites at that soft skin of your inner thigh, sinks his teeth into it and listens to the way you gasp in surprise—and before you have a moment to ground yourself, he presses his mouth to your cunt.

You’re wet and warm under his tongue and the smell of you surrounds him, musky and heavy, and he feels how your entire body goes tense as you arch your back. He’d normally take his time with this, have you strung out and begging, but he has different plans today—knows exactly what he wants from this, sucking your clit between his lips and feeling your thighs tighten around his head, legs slung over his shoulders as he listens to the way you moan. Each sound shudders out from your mouth like you tried so desperately to keep it in but couldn’t help it. Yoongi loves eating pussy anyway but this is even better, the way all your witty ripostes die in your throat before you can shape them on your lips, turned into breathy gasps instead.

The taste of you fills his mouth and it’s so fucking good. You’ve been watching him, how his head moves between your legs, but he can tell you’re close; you’ve given up, eyes shut as you lean into the sensation building up in you, and Yoongi thinks he likes you better like this. Forced into speechlessness under his hands and tongue. Your pretty mouth softened from sharpness into urging noises of pleasure. He slides one arm across your stomach and holds you in place, a hard line that you can’t overpower and you’re left squirming in place, hips trying to kick up each time he draws his tongue over your slit, every part of you sloppy with your own arousal and Yoongi’s spit, flushed and lovely. One of your hands is in his hair and you’re pulling, pulling hard, unaware of how tight your grip is as you try to buck your hips and sob.

You’re so sensitive, and it only takes one, two fingers pressing into you and curling just right as Yoongi slides his tongue over your clit before you’re cumming, hot around his fingers as you come apart all wet and messy. He’s never seen you so undone, back arched as you ride out your orgasm, hair swept away from your forehead as you throw your head back. Keeps his mouth open on you, feels you under his tongue, until you’re flopped on your back and your chest is heaving, legs untensed and loose over his shoulders.

You shift an arm. Your fingers barely brush the medi-gel mod you’d made him, a loose sheet of paper sliding away and joining the others on the floor.

“Just moved in and it’s already a mess,” Yoongi says, and he doesn’t just mean the paper; fingers and chin and mouth covered in your slick, your core soaked. He’s still knuckle deep and when he curls his fingers again your entire body jolts, your mouth parting almost wantonly before you seem to struggle back to reality, surfacing from a haze of arousal and post orgasmic bliss.

“That’s your fault,” you say, voice weaker than usual. “I’ll send you the cleaning bill.”

“Mm. Not my fault you’re a messy girl.”

“Fuck you.” The blunt words are softened by your breathlessness, your bonelessness; the way your breath catches in your throat when he calls you a messy girl, even if you try to hide it. Trying not to let him in on exactly how much power he holds in this moment.

“I was planning on it,” Yoongi says, as calm as ever, even if arousal is simmering through his veins and gathering in his gut—has been this entire time, the taste of you on his tongue and the heat of you under his lips and the sound of you in his ears. “Want to make your workshop even messier?”

You dig your balls of your feet into his back, legs still over his shoulders. His fingers shift inside you and you shiver. “I don’t think so,” you say. “Bedroom.”

“So you’re giving me a tour, then?”

You don’t dignify him with a response, although the noise you make when he finally pulls his fingers out of you is more than enough to satisfy him. He’s still fully dressed and you’re only half so, and it would be comical if the sight of your bare legs and slick on your inner thighs wasn’t so hot, barefoot on the glowing and pristine (papers notwithstanding) floors as you reach for his hand and lift it to your lips, sucking his fingers into your mouth and licking your arousal off his fingers with your tongue, warm and wet, before you grab his wrist and pull.

He watches the movement of your hips as you lead him, your bare ass. Shameless as ever. Confident in yourself, even now. It’s not until you’ve stepped over the threshold and into your new bedroom that your tattoos become visible, as bright as the low lights in the room, those geometric lines and stylised circuitry on your legs shifting as you step forwards.

Even with the relative darkness Yoongi immediately notices something. Cast over the back of a chair near the bed, there’s his jacket, blood stains at the edge of the sleeves gone. Cleaned. Yoongi shifts his hand so you don’t have your fingers wrapped around his wrist any more. Instead he’s the one shackling you, holding you in place as you look over your shoulder.

“Were you ever going to return that to me?” He tilts his head at the chair.

You pause. Glance over. Look back at him, all amusement and provocation, recovered from your earlier breathlessness. “But Yoongi, I get so cold.”

There’s something about the idea of you in his clothes, clothes that you know he’s worn when he’s been getting his hands dirty—he ignores the curl to your lips and moves you towards the bed, ignoring the sound of your self satisfied laughter when he reaches for your shirt and pulls, with you lifting your arms to help him, grinning at him the whole time. Even when he’s thrown your bra aside and kicked his boots off and pushed you onto the mattress, trapped you underneath him, completely naked against his completely clothed body you’re still smiling, like the cat who got the cream.

You’re stunning. There’s no doubt about it. You always have been, annoyingly so, even when Yoongi’s wanted to wring your neck; not just because you’re pretty but because you’re intelligent and confident and in control, staring up at him without a lick of fear or concern, even now. Never with him, never. He can see your tattoos in all their glory, nothing hidden away from his gaze; he sees one he hasn’t been able to see before, a sunflower bursting across your ribcage, curved under the swell of your breast, glowing red and orange in the midst of all your other cyan and teal lines, glowing in the black light. He’s pressing you down, trapped under his body, and you’re just waiting. Waiting and still smiling, smirking, letting him take you in, preening under his attention.

He wants to eat you alive.

So he does just that. Shifts back down the mattress on his knees, keeping his hands on you, pulling his hands down the easing lines of your ribs and waist and hips, before a firm tug has you lifting up—your smug facade shakes when you’re left with only your shoulders and head against the bed, the rest of your body pulled towards Yoongi’s waiting mouth once more, held in place with fingers that dig into your hips, thighs soft against his ears, your hands scrabbling at the linen underneath you when Yoongi’s lips press into the crease of your thigh, off balance.

“Safeword?” He murmurs into your skin, and you pause.

“Hoseok,” you answer, and Yoongi responds by biting into your thigh again, soothing it with his tongue when you squeal.

“Shameless.”

You’re still wet from before, slick with cum, and Yoongi doesn’t hesitate before he dives back in. He can hear more than he can see the way your fingers curl into your sheets and rumple them in your hands, anchored helplessly into place by Yoongi’s mouth and the fingers cupped under your ass, digging into the soft skin, undignified and at his mercy.

“Yoongi!” You gasp, almost a whimper as a breath gets caught in your throat. “Y-Yoongi—”

You’re so helpless like this. It’s a little hard for Yoongi to breathe, your legs tightening around him, but it’s worth it for the way he can see you shaking apart. He presses his tongue as deep into you as he can, sucks your swollen pearl between his lips and circles it with his tongue, notices the way you jolt at those wet kisses, still sensitive from before, and he doesn’t let up. Keeps going and going and going until you’re gasping for air, sensations rippling through your body as you buck and writhe; you’re trying to keep yourself together, he can tell, but you’re unravelling, smirk wiped off your face and your mouth in a pretty little circle whenever you choke out oh, oh.

You cum faster than he expects, shoulders lifting away from the mattress as you arch your back so far it must hurt and tighten your legs and he feels the way your pussy throbs under his tongue, practically gushing when you reach your peak. Your eyes are unfocused when they flutter back open but you’re reaching for him, for the waistband of his trousers, trying to touch the hard length of his cock—he’s been ignoring it, how he’s leaked so much precum he can feel how wet it is in his boxer-briefs.

He keeps ignoring it now. He catches your hands, stops you in place, stares you down with an unimpressed tilt to his brows.

“What,” he says levelly, “do you think you’re doing?”

“Want you in my mouth,” you say. You seem almost desperate for it, fingers flexing in his hold, letting your tongue linger against your lips longer than necessary. “I want your cock in my mouth, Yoongi.”

He tightens his grip around your wrists. And then, for the first time all night, he smiles.

“No.”

You look stunned. Just for a moment. Then you’re squirming in his hold, but you’re trapped, nowhere to go. “What do you mean, no?”

Yoongi’s still smiling, mirroring the self satisfaction that had been written all over your face earlier. “I mean no. You don’t get what you want. You get what you’re given.”

There’s nothing he’d like more than to sink into that wet heat, to see your smart mouth put to good use, lips spread over his cock, but this is better. Seeing the genuine frustration and disbelief written across your features.

He doesn’t give you time to line up another angered retort on your tongue. Doesn’t give you time to breathe before he’s flipping you over, the wings of your shoulder blades and curve of your spine emphasised by the lines that are traced symmetrically and shining across your skin. They shift when you move, hips lifted from the mattress by Yoongi’s hands, on your hands and knees as he fumbles his waistband and zipper and pulls his cock free. He’s painfully hard, flushed head with precum that beads at the tip, and when he tugs you back he watches the way the head drags across the curve of your ass, leaving a shining line of wetness on your skin.

And when he sinks into you he barely gives you time to adjust, barely has time to adjust himself, to all this hot tight wetness after his cock’s gotten no attention at all—you let out a moan that almost sounds like you’re singing, long and high with pleasure, the slide eased from all your cum.

You take it so well, always so good to him no matter how irritating you are, so lost in the sensations that you don’t say anything about the hard edges of Yoongi’s clothes whenever he drives his hips forward and it presses into the soft skin of your thighs. It’s messy and choppy and fast and you slump onto your elbows, entire body shaking as you take everything Yoongi is giving you. Caged underneath him when he follows you forwards, presses his front to your back, feels the way the sweat on your skin is caught against the fabric of his clothes. Grinds his hips deep and feels the way you gasp, sucking in a shaking breath, your entire body lost in it. He bites his lip and keeps his own sounds caught behind his teeth, not letting you know how you’re pulling him towards his own edge.

He’s not done with you yet.

Your clit is slick under his touch when he lifts his fingers to touch you, to layer another sensation on top of the cock inside you, and you’re sobbing. You don’t ask him to stop, never know when to quit, face every challenge thrown at you—and Yoongi can tell that you love it even if your body is crying out, that you love this oversensitivity, pulled taut and strung out. You’re beyond speech, words slurred, barely recognisable as his name and pleas of more, please, more. He can feel when you’ve crested the wave of too much sensation and fallen back into that rippling sea of pleasure, and when you cum it’s with a soundless moan, mouth wide open but no noise escaping. No more sharp retorts, no smart words, fucked into incoherency, trembling and quivering as you go tight around him and Yoongi struggles not to lose himself then and there, in your scorching, wet cunt, fluttering around him.

The noise when he pulls out is slick and lewd, just like all the other noises that have been filling the room, the slap of skin on skin temporarily halted when Yoongi rolls you onto your back. There’s sweat beading on your skin, shimmering, tears gathering in the corner of your eyes and glistening like tiny jewels in the multi-coloured low light of this room. Your lips are parted and your gaze is bleary and you’re everything Yoongi has never seen from you before, fuzzy and quiet, entirely pliant. When he reaches for you again, runs his hands over the rise of your hipbones and down the side of your thighs, you whimper.

“One more,” Yoongi says. “One more, you can give me one more.”

You’ve never known when to quit, and now is no different, even if you’re on the verge of being entirely fucked dumb. Those tears pool in your eyes and stream down towards your hairline, but you let Yoongi move you, try to help by lifting your hips but almost too gone to move at all. Yoongi almost cums when he sinks into you, your willing body; he thinks you’ve never looked better than you do now, smelling like sweat and sex and so soft under his hands, taking his cock like you were made for it, and you’re so gorgeous when you’re falling apart.

The attitude you wear normally—the one that chafes at Yoongi’s nerve-endings—has been entirely wiped away, forced out of you by mindless pleasure. But still, you know what you want, even now, even when you’re barely coherent—Yoongi feels your hand slide across his and pull weakly, guiding it across your chest and up, circling his fingers around your neck.

He swears. Snaps his hips forward hard, watches the way your eyes roll back when he gives an experimental squeeze around your throat. Yoongi’s choked people before, knows exactly how much pressure to give, how much it takes to cut someone’s airways completely or how to just leave them reeling; he lets you linger on the edge of breathlessness, feels the way you go tight around him. When you orgasm it rips through you, your thighs tightening around Yoongi’s hips as you hit your peak and cum hard, and the feeling of it has Yoongi cursing and bending forwards to shove his face in your neck and kiss the salt-sweat taste he finds there as he falls off the edge. He cums wet inside you, keeps rolling his hips through it all, lets his cum mix with yours and watches the way you just keep taking it, even when your whole body is trembling from how much it is.

And when Yoongi calls you a good girl, you don’t snap back like you normally would, don’t deride his praise. You bask in it, as tired as you are, letting out a soft noise when he pulls his softening cock out of you, unbothered by the wet patches on your sheets and how the whole room stinks of sex. When he moves to lift you, to get you clean, you go easily and without argument, every one of your honed edges dulled, and you make no move to sharpen them again, to drag them over Yoongi in the way he’s so familiar with by now. Even when you’ve lifted out of your haze and you’re back in the moment, the way you watch Yoongi is no less calm than normal, but still different.

“Stay.”

He’s in the middle of reaching for his boots, discarded on the floor, a discordant note on the clear floor. You’re wearing clean underwear and a loose t-shirt and you’re looking at him with something verging on surprise, like you hadn’t expected to see him moving to pull his shoes back on to leave.

He hadn’t been planning to.

“Just moving them out of the way,” says Yoongi, putting them upright by the base of your chair, and then he makes his way back to you. You don’t attempt to hide your pleasure that he’s listened to you, pulling him onto the bed despite the fact he’s still dressed.

“I don’t cuddle,” he says, even as you tuck yourself into the crook of his arm, and he shifts to make it more comfortable for you.

You press your face into the hollow of his neck, touch your nose against his throat, breathing in the smell of sweat that still lingers—because you’re shower soft and fresh but he isn’t, and weirdly enough, you seem to enjoy it. Seem to enjoy that contrast, the one that’s always existed between you, Yoongi immersed in blood and sweat and tears while you’re away from it, one degree of separation from it all. “You know, I like it when you do things for me.”

Normally he’d protest, say that he doesn’t do things for you, but the truth is that he does, even if he’s only just admitting it to himself.

“Like that time you killed someone for me,” you say, and Yoongi’s fingers tighten, soft skin of your waist yielding under his touch.

“I kill a lot of people.”

You let out a laugh against his skin, quietly amused. “Just admit it. You like me, Min Yoongi.”

A pause.

Then: “Against my better judgement, I do.”

And he does. Even if you’re irritating and maddening, he does like you, and not just because of the work you do for him. He thinks that even if you weren’t so good at your job that he’d find himself here anyway, caught in this push and pull you have, magnetised.

“No need to sound so begrudging,” you say, but there’s no real annoyance behind your words.

Yoongi finds that he likes that note in your voice, like you’re indulging him and his stubbornness and you’re unmoved by it. He hums in response. Feels the way you shift back, lean on your elbows to look down at him, lips curled up at the corners.

“Kiss me.”

Not a question. A demand. Yoongi stares you down, just for a second, before he lifts a hand and weaves a hand back into your hair, tilting your mouth against his. He can feel your self satisfied smile against his lips and he doesn’t mind it at all, sees it spread across your face when you eventually pull back, all flushed lips and warm eyes.

You’re still sharp, a weapon in your own right, but you willingly hand yourself over to be held in his skilled hands, let yourself be worn smooth by his touch. He weaves his fingers between your own, your palm soft and warm against his, and he likes this. That you’re unafraid of what he is, that the fact he’s a killer isn’t something that scares you or thrills you.

Yoongi likes your work. He likes that he knows he can trust you. He likes that he knows of your loyalty, to the people you choose and to yourself, your unwavering principles, as unpredictable as they might seem. He likes that you’re unashamed to be yourself and to be confident, no matter how people react to that cockiness.

What he likes even better than all that is this, though: the way you’re pressed against his side, evidence of his touch written into your skin. The feeling of your hand in his. Despite all the odds, all the months of drawn out and simmering exasperation and tension coming to a head like this, Yoongi likes you.

“I’m not going to give you a discount, you know,” you say suddenly, and for the first time since you met, Yoongi allows himself to laugh at you.

“I’d be offended if you did.”

(You’re loud. Cocky. Arrogant. You love to irritate him just for the hell of it, because you think it’s funny and you love knowing that you can rile him up—but he can rile you up too, and you both know it.

Yeah. Yoongi likes you.)

tagging: @beyoncesdragon @vensulove @gyukult @swinginpicklesuitcaseapricot @kpopheart2 @loveyoongles @muzikabijou @katbonv @jaxx-7 @yeojaa

#btswritingcafe #houseofddaeng #magicshopnet #btswriterscollective #btsguild #yoongi x reader #suga x reader #yoongi x you #bts #bts x reader #yoongi #yoongi scenario #yoongi imagine #yoongi fanfic #bts fanfic #joy.masterlist #let's see if this appears in the tags this time! fingers crossed!#wow can you believe I wrote like 4k words of smut or something close to that

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boldlyanxious · 3 years

Text

Life of bee Party

Jasonette July prompt 13: bee

Jasonette July

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Marinette already could tell this would be a bad idea. She wasn’t really in the mood for a party at all and definitely not a costume party. But she was dragged along without consideration to her protests. Her friends told her she just needed to have a good time. As if that would make everything in her life magically better. Things were not going well for her and she just wanted to mope about it. She ended up working in the mail room at the lowest level of a billion dollar corporation instead of doing anything else she had ever dreamed of.

Her friends worked there with her but they were mostly secretaries on the various floors. None of them were very high up either but they all shared a love of nice clothes. Jill worked at the coffee shop in the building so they all interacted a lot during the day. Coffee breaks were all taken together and sometimes Marinette would deliver coffees on her mail runs. It worked out pretty well.

They had gone to the party as a group. It was something in between the wild college parties she had seen and the grown up parties she had always expected she would be attending by this age. There was food and someone mixing drinks to go along with the selection of beers rather than only a keg and counters filled with forgotten red cups. Not even everyone at the party was dressed up making Marinette feel silly in her bee costume that was made from not enough cheap fabric. The other girls already had several costumes to choose from but Connie was the same size as her and offered her bee costume.

Not actually an offer. They insisted she come and insisted that she dress up also. They stood outside the door while she had put on the costume and Sylvie had hidden her clothes so she had to wear it. Usually she would not be so grumpy about things but she had tried again to apply at a fashion school. She just got her rejection in the mail today. She didn’t even tell anyone she had applied for which she was grateful. She didn’t want to have to see the pity in their eyes or hear how it would be okay because she was up for a promotion soon. She downed the rest of her drink and turned to find another. She had lost all of her friends to the party and she chose to mope in the kitchen rather than meeting more drunk people.

“Hey Honey,” a voice said near her.

She glanced over at the man and rolled her eyes. He was picking on her costume when he had only bothered to put on a mask around his eyes. It was somehow both worse than not dressing up and worse than picking a costume to wear. He knew to dress up but he hadn’t even made an attempt. He just put on a cheap mask. She smiled as she took the drink from the bartender and walked away from him. He picked up a new beer and followed her.

“Would you bee interested in a dance?” he asked.

“No thank you,” Marinette said simply.

He didn’t follow this time so she found a place to sit away from the others and keep an eye out for her friends. She really wished she had chosen to meet them here. She could have left by now. But she left her purse at Connie’s and planned to take a cab with Sylvie because they lived in the same complex. She pulled out her phone and played a game for a while. Connie stopped by after a bit and made her dance. She wasn’t into it enough so they took shots and tried again. Marinette danced until she was breathing hard and it was actually helping her mood. The others had joined them and they were causing a bit of a scene but none of them cared. They just wanted to have a good time.

Marinette went back to the kitchen to get them all some waters and she ran into the same man on her way back. He grinned when he saw her headed his way. She wished she could get there without passing the annoying man. He even approached her and took the waters from her leaving her with only the one for her. He motioned for her to lead the way. Her friends did not seem put out to see her return with another. Actually they all seemed to know him from work. Sylvie even turned to wink at her behind his back and give her a thumbs up. He looked over at Sylvie and then smirked as if he knew exactly what happened. Jill slyly asked him if he was planning to ask anyone to dance.

“I did ask someone to dance but she wasn’t interested. I’ve seen her around the office before but I don’t think she has even noticed me even though I find her beewitching.”

Her friends all looked at her in shock, but she pretended not to notice. She sipped her drink and watched the crowd. They went through the process of introductions and he talked to her friends for a few minutes while they all tried to flirt with him. Marinette wasn’t sure if they were actually flirting with him or trying to convince her she wanted to flirt with him but she was not in the mood right now. He excused himself after a few minutes without bothering Marinette any further.

She didn’t see him for a couple hours after that. Many of the people had left the party or found places to chill and sober up before they went home. She went back to the kitchen. She was long over the desire for drinking. She was hungry and the offered foods were long gone. She poked through the cupboards and didn't find much but the fridge had eggs and cheese.

She didn't know whose house it was but she hadn't brought and money so she hoped they wouldn't mind her taking some eggs to keep her stomach settled. She looked around for a good pan and spatula. She mixed the eggs and heated butter in the pan before adding the egg. Carefully she cooked the egg continually moving the sides in to let the egg run down to the hot pan. When it was all cooked on the bottom she loosened it from the sides of the pan before swirling it around and flicking her wrist to make the whole thing flip at once.

"Very nicely done," said Jason.

She jumped in surprise and turned to him. He turned away from her flushed face and opened a cabinet while she added cheese and turned off the burner.

"Did you guess the right cupboard on the first try or have you been here before?"

"I live here. So I already knew."

He handed her a plate and she tipped the omelet out of the pan.

"Oh, I may have stolen your food a bit."

"I'm not worried about a couple eggs. I was trying to think of a way to convince you to make me one without seeming helpless. Omelets are my downfall."

"It takes some practice. My Nonna taught me. I could make another but it's also probably more than I need. Would you want half?"

"That works great." He paused for a moment while the food was divided before adding. "You aren't having a good time."

"It's not because of the party. I was already feeling down and I feel silly in this outfit."

"I probably have some clothes you could wear and I would do anything I could think of to cheer you up."

"How do you know me from work if I don't see you? I thought I knew everyone."

"It's my job to see everything. You are just the most fun to notice."

Marinette wasn't sure how to respond to that. But he moved along in the conversation. He picked up their empty plates and had her follow him.

"I'm pretty sure I've got a couple things that were left here by my brother's girlfriend. Should be close enough to fit you."

"I would really like that. I think our driver might be out for the night. She fell asleep."

Jason had her follow him and he checked a couple spots until he comes up with clothes he thought would fit her. Marinette went off to change but he showed up again after. He offered her a water and they sat on an unoccupied couch.

"Are you still feeling a buzz?" Jason asked.

"You think you're funny."

Marinette lifted her foot nudged his leg but she lifted her cup to hide her smile.

"You seem in a better mood. I hope that means good things for me."

"I'm not sure. You seem awfully fond of puns. Maybe you just like to hear me groan."

"I would never use a pun again just to see your smile."

Marinette leaned close to him.

"What would you do for a kiss?"

"Anything."

He leaned down towards her until their lips met.

Taglist

#jasonette july 2021 #maribat #jasonette #meet cute #boldlyanxious

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theyre-just-blocks · 3 years

Text

Different relationships on the Dream SMP but they’re Glass Animals songs.

No, I haven’t read Heatwaves, no I’m not doing this because of Heat Waves, this is just for fun because I love the band and their music and some of their songs actually fit character relationships in the Dream SMP really well.

Reminder! This is based on their characters in the SMP, not the actual ccs themselves. It would be weird if it wasn’t and quite frankly the songs wouldn’t fit if that were the case.

Relationship: Sam & Ponk

Song: Pork Soda

What It’s About: A loving relationship between two lovers who slowly started to fall out of love, leading one of them to want what the relationship used to be.

Why It Fits: I mean, the song meaning is pretty much what’s going on with the two right now. They had a nice, loving dynamic that quickly turned to the worse thanks to the Egg and the Prison corrupting the both of them. The narrator, obviously, would be Ponk, who got the short end of the stick when it came to the complications of the relationship. And I just think it would be funny to have ‘lemon’ instead of ‘pineapple.’

Some Lyrics:

You took my hand and you made me run, up past the prison to the seafront

Why can’t we laugh now like we did then? How come I see you and ache instead?

Maybe you’re fucking scum, don’t you go psycho chum

I want you for the world, I want you all the time (stop)

I won’t forget how you looked at me then

Relationship: DreamXD & George

Song: Holiest

What It’s About: A relationship between two lovers, one who is annoyed with the other’s antics, who is preoccupied in their dreams, goals, and ideals, comparing them to a child.

Why It Fits: I really only chose this song for the two because DreamXD is kind of a god on the SMP, so I went, “Okay god, they’ve got a song called ‘Holiest’, that fits.” But I also think it fits in the way that DreamXD basically simps for George and in the song one of the individuals seems to beg the other that they can be different. I think it would be a sort of, “You’re not him,” kind of thing, basically.

Some Lyrics:

Be a part of the scene like you're living your dream, Walk the room like you're on fire, Like your chasing the truth, gripping tight to your youth

Babe, I'm not what you think, Come on, listen to me

Now all I do is feel afraid

Can't you see that I'm here, Can't you see I've been played

But you're the holiest thing I know, Yes, you're the holiest thing, holiest thing I know

Relationship: Schlatt & Quackity

Song: Cacao Hooves

What It’s About: Possibly about the internal conflict of someone who has done a lot of bad things in the past (though not confirmed).

Why It Fits: Even if the song is mainly for one’s internal conflicts, I felt like it fit Schlatt and Quackity’s external ones with each other. For one, the character in the song is an ‘old goat’, perfect for Schlatt, then there’s a comment about setting wings on fire, perfect for Quackity. The internal conflict in the song would be the two going back and forth with the White House, especially since there’s a line about not fighting back/using bows and arrows. I just thought it was perfect.

Some Lyrics:

This old goat with beard of grey, He turns his leather gripped cane

You never fight back, Why don’t you play with bows and arrows?

Why don’t you play nice? Why don’t you toy with sex and violence?

Why don’t you set your wings on fire?

Relationship: Dream & Fundy

Song: Flip

What It’s About: The narrator is making plans on getting revenge on someone who had wronged/harmed them in the past.

Why It Fits: While most of the lyrics don’t really fit, and Fundy hasn’t made a move to get back at Dream for what happened at the Wedding, the idea behind the song, I felt fit the two. If given the chance, I’m sure that Fundy would’ve gotten revenge on Dream, seeing as he did so with L’Manburg during Doomsday. It would be from Fundy’s perspective and it puts a new spin on the idea of a Fox Hunt.

Some Lyrics:

I wanna take to my guns and break you, I gotta make my little foe take his own

I’m gonna go back, I’m gonna go back, I’m gonna go back to a face no more mask

I was in full bloom until I met you, I’m gonna shake my fetters, I’m breaking loose

Relationship: Quackity, Karl, & Sapnap

Song: Tangerine

What It’s About: The narrator sings about some that they’ve know who’s taken a turn for the worse, changing due to different events, but the narrator still has the hope that things could be the same.

Why It Fits: This song fits so well, lyric and beat wise. It’s so preppy and fun like them, despite the lyrics being so down. For this, it would be Karl and Sapnap’s take on Quackity’s spiral with torturing Dream and setting up Las Nevadas. They’re wondering what happened to him and still have hope that maybe they could get him back, basically.

Some Lyrics:

I can't keep on making you happy 'cause you got issues with your daddy

But I wish I could show you more of yourself, I wish I could make you somebody else. But I left it way too late. Are you stuck in your own ways?

You let the devil in, and all you talk is money, money, money, money, money, It's so funny how it changes how you feel

Where are you? What happened? I want what we had. Where you gone? Where you hidin'?

Hands, knees, please, tangerine, come on back to me. Got what I need, tangerine, do this for me

Relationship: Puffy & Niki

Song: Agnes

What It’s About: The narrator is trying to pull out another from an addiction, which has steadily ruined their relationship a bit.

Why It Fits: This one is just a bit of a stretch, but it works. It would be from Puffy’s POV as she’s trying to get Niki back to the way she once was, before Doomsday, before finding out about Wilbur, and before being obsessed with killing Tommy. In the song, the person being sung about has an addiction, so I figured that could be replaced with her want to kill Tommy. So it’s Puffy trying to bring her back, but at the same time, Puffy is unsure about what she’s doing.

Some Lyrics:

Calm down now, stop and breathe a second? Go back to the very beginning. Can't you see what was different then?

To be reborn, I want to hold you like you're mine

You see the sad in everything. A genius of love and loneliness

Where went that cheeky friend of mine? Where went that billion-dollar smile?

You're gone but you're on my mind. I'm lost but I don't know why

Relationship: Bad & Skeppy

Song: JDNT

What It’s About: Though not confirmed, the song could be about a narrator who is putting on a brave face, but is ready to crack under the stress at any minute.

Why It Fits: This one is also a stretch, it was kind of hard to find a song that fit the two. However, with the Egg, I think that this song works well for them. Though I couldn’t find a solid meaning behind the lyrics, I figured that if we took their arc with the Egg, it would work. I think the song would be from both of their POVs, with the story idea behind Skeppy being stuck in the Egg and Bad giving himself to the Egg in return of getting his friend back.

Some Lyrics:

I've got my old helmet on, Keeping out an eye, Puffing all my feathers up

Please, it's not okay. Oh, can't you feel your dirty face? Oh, don't it leave that filthy taste?

Where my funny friends gone? You're in paradise. Who gon' plant the flowers, huh?

I shut my wild eyes, and crumble to a pile of dust and fertilise

Relationship: Quackity & Glatt

Song: Your Love (Deju vu)

What It’s About: Being caught up in a relationship you know is toxic, but somehow you can’t seem to cut that person out of your life.

Why It Fits: I think the meaning of the song fits them pretty well as we all know that relationship was toxic as hell. But in this sense, it’s Glatt, so even more so, Quackity’s still coming back to him even when Schlatt is dead and now a ghost. Though their relationship during Schlatt’s time alive was terrible, Quackity still went to Schlatt and decided to work with him. Also, it’s got a line about eating and I just thought it would fit in the whole ‘heart eating’ sense.

Some Lyrics:

And I'm backsliding into this just one more time

You go back there when you're done, Don't you want some more?

Maybe in time, When we're both better at life, daylight can open my eyes, and you'll still be by my side

Night by night, I let you eat me alive, I want you to eat me alive

Relationship: Dream & George

Song: Heatwa - [gunshot]

Nah, jk, here’s their song.

Relationship: Dream & George

Song: The Other Side of Paradise

What It’s About: Though I’m not entirely sure, but I think that the song focuses around a relationship that slowly deteriorated due to one of the individuals moving on for a more grander, luxurious life.

Why It Fits: Dream would be the individual in the relationship who went to go chase after a fancy life, thus ruining the relationship. The "fancy life" in this case would be the power and control he sought over members of the server, which ultimately got him locked up. So I think it would be in George's POV, but that's basically why I thought the song would fit the two.

Some Lyrics:

He told me, "Please, don't worry", wise little smile that spoke so safely

Caught up in a rush, it's killing you

I miss him, don't you blame me? That boy went stone cold crazy, Caught up in camera lust, He's chasing that pappy pipe dream

I know you don't but I-I know you don't but I still try

Curled up in a grip when we were us, fingers in a fist like you might run, I settle for a ghost I never knew, super paradise I held on to, but I settle for a ghost

I know I should probably post my thoughts on Quackity's stream, but I started this a few days ago and only finished it today, so take it now.

#dream smp #mcyt #awesamponk #dreamnotfound #puffychu #karlnapity #i really don't know what this is #thought it would be fun

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viia01 · 3 years

Text

A random thing I wrote that has no ending

Bruce hid a sigh as he listened to the third speaker of the night tell another terrible joke. He laughed with everyone else, too tired to do more. Ordinarily, he would lean into the opportunity to act the part of Brucie Wayne.

But he really wasn’t in the mood tonight.

The last mission with the Justice League had run overtime and Bruce was running on two hours of sleep. Ordinarily, lack of sleep wouldn’t slow Bruce down any, but for some reason he just wasn’t in the mood tonight.

Briefly, he wondered why he hadn’t allowed Alfred to make his excuses.

The presenter came back onto the stage, not so subtly wrestling the microphone away from the rambling, somewhat drunk speaker from Luthor’s company.

Bruce tuned out the speech about Wayne Enterprises’ contributions to the development of new jet propulsion technology. He had had very little to do with the development, only funded it, so most of the technical talk was going straight over his head.

“You look like you’re having fun.”

Bruce glanced to his right and saw that Hal Jordan had sat himself down in the chair behind Bruce. “Go away. We’re not supposed to know each other. People will talk.”

“Please, they’re too busy making eyes at the pretty boy you got up there singing Wayne Enterprises praises,” Hal scoffed. He was dressed in a well fitted tuxedo, though he had swapped the black jacket out for a forest green jacket decorated with elaborate rose designs.

There was a thump against the back of Bruce’s chair, and he looked down in confusion and saw that Hal had tipped his chair back on two legs, the back of it now resting against the back of Bruce’s. “Really? Are you five?”

Hal grinned at him lazily and leaned his head on Bruce’s shoulder. “No, but we’re both bored so I thought I’d entertain myself.”

“You were invited because of Ferris Air’s work with Wayne Enterprises, not to entertain yourself,” Bruce said, putting on a smile when he saw a few people looking over at him. It wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for Brucie Wayne to be distracted by a pretty face at an event, but Bruce didn’t have the energy or patience to put on the act tonight. “Go back to your table and Ms. Ferris.”

“See normally, I’d just put up with the crappy puns and eat all the food, but the food sucks. So now I’m not just bored, but also hungry,” Hal said, ignoring Bruce, head still resting on Bruce’s shoulder. “Is that your doing? Because if you paid them for this catering… you should get your money back.”

Bruce sighed again. “Hal…” he warned.

“Watery champagne and tiny canapes, Bruce!” Hal said teasingly, tilting his head to look at Bruce. There was a mischievous glint to his eyes.

Bruce looked at him, putting on another smile. Most people were still listening to the presenter talk about the new jet propulsions, but there were bound to be a few people watching them. “Go. Back. To. Your seat.”

Hal blinked at him a few times. “I really don’t want to. There’s an old couple there that keeps asking me if I want to ‘join them afterwards for drinks’,” he said with a grimace. “Somehow I don’t think they want drinks.”

Bruce was tired. And sore. And the last thing he wanted right now was to listen to Hal Jordan’s whining.

“And I’m getting the vibe that the rich-guys-masturbating-over-their-own-money scene isn’t exactly your speed either,” Hal continued blithely, still ignoring Bruce’s irritation. “What do you say we go and find somewhere that’s serving actual food?”

“I have responsibilities,” Bruce said immediately, clapping politely when the presenter introduced General Thomasson as the next speaker.

Hal tipped his head back further to look at the stage. “Oh shit, the big wigs are here,” he said dryly. “What do you say, Spooks? Wanna go find a burger joint?”

“No, now go back to your seat.”

Hal sighed dramatically. “You’re boring,” he said, letting his chair fall back onto all its feet with a muffled thump. He rose, the dim light playing over his face in a way that made his eyes look more amber than brown. “Guess it’s back to eating stale canapes.”

Bruce sighed as Hal walked away, ambling back to his table. In his ridiculous suit jacket, Hal looked very much the epitome of flashy West Coast flyboy and Bruce wasn’t the only one watching him.

Bruce shook thoughts of Hal Jordan away, focusing on the stage again.

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

Bruce ran through the notes he needed to hit in his speech. It was a fairly standard speech, talk about the minds behind the advances, explain the advancements as the video played, make a few jokes, and then close out by thanking everyone for coming.

For all of Bruce’s practice at playing the gregarious, fun loving Brucie Wayne, he actually didn’t enjoy it very much. It was exhausting, wearing the mask all the time and he was tired.

And hungry.

Hal had been right about the stale canapes.

“You did some really good work, Wayne,” General Thomasson said gruffly, clapping Bruce on the shoulder. “These planes will give us the edge over our enemies.”

“Anything for our troops,” Bruce said, mustering up a smile. “Can’t have them going without the best.”

The General chuckled. “And it’s only going to set the taxpayer back a couple billion, right?”

“Got to keep those stocks high,” Bruce countered jokingly. In reality, he and Lucius were already planning to wean Wayne Enterprises off the military contracts that sustained the R&D department and supplement it with investment into green energies and space exploration.

But the General didn’t need to know that just yet.

“Well, I need to go and prepare for this speech of mine,” Bruce said, even though he really didn’t. “Lots of technical speak tonight and I have to make sure I pronounce everything right.”

The General gave him a patronizing smile and wave. “Off you go, Wayne. We’ll talk business some other night.”

Bruce ducked behind a set of piled speakers and sound equipment. He pulled out his phone, to give himself a convenient cover of taking a phone call.

He took a moment to compose himself. All the small talk had taken a toll on his patience and his eyes stung with exhaustion. He knew he needed sleep and a good meal, considering how fuzzy and slow he was feeling. And the thought of going up onto that stage and enduring hours more so small talk and smiles-

“You make a big sale with the military brass?”

Bruce didn’t jump but he was surprised that he hadn’t noticed Hal’s appearance behind him. “What are you doing back here?” he asked.

Hal was holding a tray of canapes and his bowtie was untied and hanging around his neck. “Hiding from the creepy couple,” he said, offering the tray to Bruce. “You want one?”

“No. Go back to your seat,” Bruce said in exasperation. “How did you even get back here in the first place?”

Hal crunched on another canape and pulled a face. “My good looks and charm. Sure you don’t want a stale canape? It tastes like cardboard.”

“I don’t want a canape.”

Hal shrugged lazily. “So why are we hiding behind a bunch of sound equipment?” he asked through a mouthful of canape, looking at one of the speakers curiously.

“I’m not hiding, and you’re not supposed to be here.”

“I’m not supposed to be a lot of things,” Hal countered immediately. “And you’re totally hiding.”

“I am not hiding,” Bruce snapped, irritated by Hal’s very presence. He had hoped that tonight, Hal would just spend his time as far away from Bruce as possible, especially since they had had a blow out the mission before. “Go away.”

Instead of listening, Hal just arched an eyebrow at him, munching on his cardboard canapes. “You don’t want to go on that stage, huh?” he guessed.

Bruce waited for an insult or a joke at his expense.

But Hal just looked around the speakers, in the direction of the stage. “Well, I can’t say I blame you. We’ve had like ten different speakers and I remember nothing of what was said or who said it.”

“Maybe you should pay more attention, then,” Bruce replied. “And I enjoy honoring the men and women who worked hard on this latest breakthrough.”

“None of them are even here,” Hal pointed out blandly, shoving the canape tray behind one of the pieces of sound equipment. “You probably already gave them a billion dollars anyway.”

“If I gave everyone a billion dollars, I wouldn’t be a billionaire for very long,” Bruce couldn’t help but say in exasperation. He really wondered if Hal ever thought before he spoke or if he just made it up as he talked.

Hal swiped a tongue over his teeth, giving Bruce a funny look.

On stage, Bruce could hear the presenters winding up to his introduction. He steeled himself with a sigh, pulling Brucie Wayne back over himself.

Hal tilted his head and then smiled, cocky and self-assured. “I wasn’t kidding about that burger, by the way,” he said.

“What?” Bruce asked.

Hal held out a hand, palm up. “You wanna blow this popsicle shop, Spooks?” he asked, eyes glinting mischievously.

“Popsicle stand,” Bruce corrected, irritated.

“Whatever, Bruce Wayne,” Hal said, rolling his eyes.

There was a beat and Bruce could hear the presenters bantering with each other. It was nearly time for them to introduce him.

Bruce had responsibilities.

He had to give this speech and thank the team for their hard work. It was their accomplishment and the least Bruce could do was show up to thank them publicly.

He couldn’t just leave and galivant around like Hal seemed to think he could.

Hal arched an eyebrow at Bruce questioningly, hand still out. His eyes were alight with amusement, the same cocky self-assuredness that got on Bruce’s nerves.

Only now it seemed less annoying.

“Offer’s expiring,” Hal sang, eyes darting to the stage and back.

Bruce took his hand.

#batlantern #hal jordan #bruce wayne #halbruce

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karasuno-chaos · 4 years

Text

Choosing His Tie (Osamu x Reader)

I feel like Osamu is one of those people that doesn’t dress up often, but when he does, he only serves quality looks.👔 -Giz

Word Count: 1,470

Fluffvember masterlist

“Y/N!” your husband shouts from the bedroom.

“What?” you holler back, not moving from your position on the couch watching Vine compilations.

“Come here!”

“Why?”

“I want your opinion!”

You sigh but pause the current video. Osamu doesn’t ask for your opinion very often. He’s pretty decisive, and even when you tell him what you think, he usually sticks with his own opinion. If he’s proactively seeking your input, he’s a bit desperate. You haul yourself off of the couch and head to the bedroom.

“What is it?” you ask, leaning in the doorway. He’s standing in front of the dresser mirror wearing a black suit with a white button-up. The jacket is unbuttoned, and he’s popped the collar on his shirt. You take a moment to admire how he looks. Osamu is much more comfortable in a t-shirt and jeans or sweatpants, but his natural confidence makes him look effortlessly suave in the simple black suit. You’d insisted he get it tailored to fit his figure, and you’re so glad you did when the effect is so beautiful.

“Stop ogling,” he says, glancing at your reflection. While his twin is quite obviously an attention hog, Osamu enjoys getting attention, too, especially from you. The fact that he isn’t allowing you to stare means something is bothering him.

“I’ll try to keep it under control,” you say with a teasing smirk. “If you didn’t call me over to flaunt your looks, what do you need?”

“Help me pick a tie.”

“Seriously?” You pretend to complain. “I was in the middle of a really funny video.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to pull you away from such an important activity. It’s not like I’m trying to prepare to meet with the bank to secure a loan so we can open another branch of our restaurant chain.”

His words are a bit harsh, but you’re used to his bluntness. You also know how much this next step in his business means to him. With the additional brand exposure from sponsoring volleyball events, there’s been a significant increase in sales at every Onigiri Miya location. Eager to ride the wave of steady popularity, Osamu’s decided now is the perfect time to extend that success to the nation’s capital. He has his eye on a location near the Tokyo Metropolitan Gymnasium, but to move forward with his plan, he needs another loan from the bank.

“It’s just a tie, Samu,” you say soothingly. “It won’t make or break their decision.”

“You don’t know that.”

You frown. Your husband is stubborn, but he also doesn’t bother with trivialities unless he’s being intentionally petty. A tie shouldn’t worry him this much.

“Are you feeling okay?” you ask, walking to him and placing the back of your hand on his forehead. He looks annoyed for a second, but you move your hand to his cheek and he sighs. Osamu closes his eyes, allowing your touch to temporarily soothe his mind.

“I’m fine,” he promises. When he opens his eyes, they’re serious but not manic. You think he’s a little more focused, which means he’s better prepared to get the job done.

“Good,” you say, dropping your hand. “For a moment, I definitely thought you were freaking out, which would have been totally uncool.”

“Huh?” His eyes narrow in a challenge. You do love to push his buttons, but only because you can take the heat.

“You’ve had this meeting how many times now?”

“Twice I guess.”

“Exactly,” you hum, turning your attention to the pile of ties he’s laid out on the dresser. You begin selecting options and draping them over his shoulders to see how they look with his outfit. “You’ve already opened two very successful locations and paid back those loans in good time with good faith. You’ve given the bank no reason to doubt your reliability. You’re a solid investment. The way I see it, this meeting’s more of a formality than anything. You’ve got this in the bag.”

“Do you know how impractical you sound? Thank goodness I’m in charge of our business,” he sighs.

“Yes of course dear. I’ll just stick to our branding and menu design and visual advertising and picking out your ties. Unless you can do that last one yourself now?”

Osamu rolls his eyes, neither apologizing nor thanking you. A less secure person would never survive his hot and cold nature, but you know him well enough to see how much he appreciates you. It’s why you’re such good partners in both business and life.

You also know that the back and forth banter is helping him to focus. You’ve heard numerous stories about the rambunctious exchanges he and his twin would have before volleyball games. Somehow the snide remarks and sense of competition make him perform better, and you’re happy to rile him up a bit if it helps.

“Okay, I’ve got it down to three options,” you announce. “First up-”

“No,” your husband says immediately, pulling a frown from your lips.

“Come on,” you whine. “This is my favorite.”

“It’s childish.”

“It’s whimsical and fun,” you counter. “Just look at the happy little onigiri!”

He looks at the tie with the cartoon food dancing across a deep blue background. It had been a joke gift from Atsumu a few years ago, but you love it so he wears it sometimes. Today, however, won’t be one of those days.

“No,” he insists. “I need them to take me seriously.”

“Buzzkill.” You put the tie on the dresser and grab the other options. “Okay boring businessman, which one screams ‘give me money’ more?”

One tie is an eye-catching abstract swirl of greens and blues. The other is a shimmery silver with a subtle pattern that catches the light. You have a favorite, but you want to let him choose.

After a moment of contemplation, he picks the silver one and starts putting it on without a word. You were secretly rooting for that one. The silver brings out some of the lighter grey in his eyes, and it looks really sharp paired with that suit.

You put away his other ties while he finishes primping. He has plenty of time before the meeting, but you know he’ll arrive at the bank early and take a few minutes to look over his business plan again. After hanging up the last tie, you turn to watch him. Now that his outfit is complete, he seems much more at ease, as he should be. You have no doubt he is ready for this meeting.

“You’re ogling again,” he says.

“I can’t help it,” you reply with a grin. You wrap your arms around his waist, and he smirks at you. “You look like a billion yen.”

“Let’s hope so.” He kisses the top of your head and rubs your back. It’s the most thanks you’re likely to get from him, but you don’t mind. You feel his appreciation in the way he holds you.

“Need me for anything else?” you ask, looking up at him.

“The rest of my life,” he says smoothly.

“Only if you make dinner tonight.”

Osamu quirks an eyebrow.

“You drive a hard bargain.”

“Really? I feel like dinner is a small price to pay for my eternal love and support,” you hum. “You should definitely accept before I rethink the terms of this contract.”

“It’s a deal.” He smiles as he kisses you.

“Good negotiation. Now go do it again with the bank people.”

“And what are you going to do?” he asks as he follows you out of the bedroom.

“I was in the middle of a really funny video, remember? And I have a few more queued up after that.”

“Sounds thrilling.”

“You know me. I live a life of adrenaline and excitement.”

“Just as long as you don’t waste your time at work like this.”

“Feed me a good dinner tonight and I promise to be on my game all day tomorrow.”

“There you go negotiating again. Maybe I should send you to this meeting instead.”

“No way, not after you got all dressed up for it. You can’t deprive the world of this rare sighting of Suave Businessman Samu.” You straighten his tie when you reach the front door. “You’re going to kill it, okay? Like service ace, blockout, wicked spike kill it.”

“Volleyball metaphors? That’s so three years ago.”

“Whatever.” You capture his lips in a quick kiss. “See you later.”

“Yeah.”

His goodbye isn’t overly heartfelt, but it’s perfectly him. Osamu grins at you before he leaves, and you get a second to admire this confident, well-dressed man that you’ve married before you’re staring at the back of the door. You sigh and settle onto the couch to distract yourself with videos until he’s back to tell you how it went.

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simpsiren · 3 years

Text

johnny suh x reader

description. Being rich and having family problems was already one thing. Me lying about having a rich boyfriend will end up being another. I turned to the guy who I thought would best fit the role and help me keep up the lie, only to have it all come crashing down on us when we began to fell in love.

genre. fluff, angst, rich kids au, college au, contract dating/fake dating au, strangers to lovers au

word count. 8.7k~

warnings. nonee

a/n. honestly this idea is such a cliche but i wanted to write a story where the reader is rich and all and to have a major arch HAHA but other than that this story is hella long so bUckLe uP and enjoyy :D

I sat there at the family table that was filled with nothing but the sound of cutlery clanging against the plates as everyone ate breakfast in silence. It was my father who finally spoke up first with a, “We’re going to a party this Friday.” No one replied. Father exhaled sharply and placed his cutlery on the plate, bringing is hand up and interlocking his fingers.

“Sumi.” Father called out my name. I sighed and lifted my head up from the food I’ve yet to finish. “Bring your boyfriend. It would be nice to meet him for the first time and make sure you have a promising one.”

I gulped as I nodded slowly. “Yes, father.” I replied quietly as I bit the inside of my cheek.

As I took another bite, I was squeezing every idea I have out of my head. How am I suppose to get a rich boyfriend by Friday? The money that Father gave me to treat my so called boyfriend was used on myself and my own pleasures. I never bothered finding a boyfriend. Despite my parents knowing that, years have passed yet they never stop pestering me about it.

“I have to go now.” I simply said, standing up from my seat and grabbing my tote bag that was hanging on my chair and went out the door.

You would think a rich kid like me would be wearing luxury items and come to school looking stunning and perfect. Well, not exactly. I drove myself to school. Father once asked me if I wanted a driver but I refused since my car was precious to me. The only other person who I could trust my car with was my brother, Lucas.

Speaking of which, I was about to start my car when Lucas suddenly appeared at the window screen, knocking on it. I rolled down the window with the click of a button. “Don’t-”

“Please ride me to school, Sumi.” Lucas begged. I groaned and pinched the bridge of my nose. “No.” I replied sternly. Lucas stopped his feet and whined loudly, practically having the tantrum of a little boy that made me shout, “My god shut up! Why can’t you use your motorbike?!”

Lucas puckered his lips and looked away for a moment before turning back to me, quickly leaning in and putting is head in the car.

“I might have gone racing with it and now it’s spoiled. Father doesn’t know so if you can quickly get me in the damn car.” Lucas cried out.

“Get in.” I admitted defeat with a sigh. “Thank you.” Lucas opened the door to the passenger seat as I started the car and began to drive.

“Didn’t I tell you to stop racing? Firstly it’s fucking racing you could get hurt. Secondly, it’s illegal and could land you in jail.” I spoke out.

Lucas kept silent for moment, probably not sure of what to reply. “You know we need the money. Father doesn’t simply give it to us. I earned one billion from racing last night. It’s how I make a living.” I could only suspire as I shook my head.

Being rich isn’t as perfect as it seemed. It wasn’t a privilege per say. Our family has been fucked up ever since my older brother moved out. Lucas and I have never met him before since he stole my Father’s money and ran away, resulting in his company to go bankrupt before when we were young. Because of him, my father was very strict on money. He wouldn’t give it to us with ease. Which was why I had to lie my way to the money.

I had to use the excuse that I already have a rich boyfriend that could “guarantee me a great future”. It was a terrible idea to lie because now I need to find my way around this and somehow have a boyfriend magically appear at the party.

“Make sure Father doesn’t find out about the motorbike. I’ll literally bring you in my room and kill you wholeheartedly if he knows about this.”

“At least I would die before I get a beating.”

I scoffed at his comment as the trip grew silent. After fifteen minutes, we finally arrived. I parked my car and the two of us walked in school. Just like every other day, a group of girls just had to surround Lucas bearing gifts and showering him with compliments. I felt uncomfortable nonetheless. Luckily, Lucas could sense my irritated aura and was quick to take all the gifts and shove the girls away, allowing me to speak. “Um by the way...”

“What’s up, sis?” Lucas asked while he greeted people in the hallway. “Do you possibly have anyone in your major that could fit the role of a rich boyfriend?” Lucas stopped in his track, making stop behind him as he turned around sharply to face me. “You still haven’t told Father the truth?” Lucas asked with a sigh of disappointment as I hung my head low and nodded.

“I have the same excuse as you, alright? It’s how I make a living.” I retorted back as I reminded him of the conversation we had in the car. Lucas sucked air into his mouth that puffed his cheeks while he looked around the campus and observing any guy he saw on sight. Lucas’s face suddenly lit up and he gaped his mouth open and turned his head to me. “What about Jaehyun? Taeyong? There’s also Johnny.” Lucas said with a mischievous smirk.

“You’re naming every guy on the fraternity.” I deadpanned. “So?”

“Are you dumb? Everyone in the fraternity is taken.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Not Johnny though.” I heard Lucas say with confidence, making me slowly tilt my head up.

I copied his wide smirk and folded my arms, leaning in slightly and whispering, “When and where can I meet him?” Lucas chuckled and nodded his head eagerly. “There’s an ice hockey competition tomorrow night. I’m pretty sure the frats are coming to the after party.”

“No need to thank me. I know I’m smart.” Lucas leaned in too and winked playfully. I laughed and punched him in the chest, making him wince in pain but soon recovered.

“Could always count on you, dork.”

I hate it here.

The same phrase resonated in my head as I scanned my eyes over the party. Partying was not my thing. Never is, and never will.

Despite Lucas knowing that fact, he didn’t hesitate to shove a red cup filled with beer to my chest. I scrunched up my nose as I lifted my chin up to throw a sharp glare at him.

“Come on, get drunk once in awhile. Who knows, maybe Johnny Suh would come save you or some shit.” I cringed at the sight of Lucas downing the beer he had in his cup till it was fully empty.

I placed the cup on a random table and folded my arms while standing firm. Lucas was bobbing his head to the loud piercing music but soon stopped when he felt intimidated by the aura I was radiating. “Just help me find him, Lucas.”

Lucas drew in a long breath and held my wrist. “Okay, okay.” He groaned as he pulled me through the crowd, which was definitely not a pleasant thing when you have strangers bumping into in all directions. Lucas was smart enough to hold me close to him till we ended up in front of a random door.

“Why’re we here?” I entreated as I kept my arm wrapped around Lucas’s. He face palmed before pushing my arm off his and folding his arms while he placed his weight on one leg.

“Since you’ve never been to parties you don’t know this but this room is where the frat guys hang out.” Lucas jerked his head to the direction of the door beside us.

I blinked my eyes rapidly and I pointed my finger towards the door. “You don’t expect me to just go in and ask Johnny Suh, right?”

Lucas gave an exasperated expression. “Do I need to do everything for you? You’re so inexperienced...” With no time to mentally prepare myself, Lucas flung the door open.

The loud chatters that I heard when the door was closed soon died down as all heads were turned to us, clearly with raised brows and weirded out faces as they saw two strangers standing by the door.

I quickly hid by pressing myself against the wall with my head peeping out slightly to see what’s going on.

I definitely saw Johnny in there. But oddly enough, he was sitting at the corner of the room with two girls on both his sides, looking quite annoyed yet kept a blank expression to try pleasing the girls. Which, of course, worked all the time as they constantly swoon over him no matter what he did.

“My sister’s looking for Johnny Suh. Can he come out for a sec?” Lucas called him out. Without hesitation, Johnny stood up from his seat. All eyes turned and followed him as he walked out and Lucas closed the door.

Johnny turned around and saw me pressed against the wall. He glanced sideways towards Lucas before making eye contact with me. “I’ll leave you two to it then.” Lucas gave a light pat on my shoulder and left me and Johnny.

He turned around and gave a thumbs up. I was about to wordlessly signal him to come back but I was stopped when Johnny asked, “What did you call me out for?” He asked in a gentle voice.

I gulped, unable to meet his eyes as I tucked strands of hair behind my ear. “Are you drunk?” I asked. Johnny simply shook his head. “Okay great. Follow me.” I grabbed his wrist and led him to an unoccupied room.

I pushed him in and closed the door behind me. I could tell that Johnny was very confused as to what I was doing. I slide my back down against the door till I hit the ground. “At least it’s quiet here.” I mumbled under my breath.

“Are you going to tell me why I’m here?” Johnny leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees. “You free on Friday?” Johnny raised an eyebrow in suspicion. “Yes but why?”

I took in a deep breath before saying, “Basically I need you to attend a party with me as a rich boyfriend.” I didn’t get an answer. Johnny only sat there as he stared at me for quite some time.

He pursed his lips into a thin line, racking his fingers through his hair. “Why me?”

“Because you’re the most suitable guy that fits the description of the fake boyfriend I need.” I replied nonchalantly as I stood up and shoved my hands down the pockets of my jeans. “You could ask anyone else.” Johnny added on.

I let out a quiet sigh and looked down to my feet before meeting Johnny’s gaze. “It’s just one night. On Friday. I need to show my father I have a boyfriend. Please.” I begged, walking close to Johnny and leaning in to his face, making him move backwards.

“What do I get in return?” I didn’t answer, looking around and taking time to think of one. I snapped my fingers and grinned widely. “Food. You can enjoy the food there.”

Johnny gave a mirthless laugh. “Food. That’s it?” He slumped his shoulders.

I shook my head vigorously in defense. “Free food, expensive food, delicious food-”

“You’re literally luring me with food.” He let out a half-laugh.

“Yes, yes I am.” I quickly admitted. I leaned in closer as a wide smirk grew on my lips. “But it’s working, isn’t it?”

Johnny exhaled sharply and rubbed the back of his neck. “Could never deny free food. But how am I going to look expensive, per say.” He lifted his fingers up and did quotation marks at the word expensive in the air.

I firmly gripped onto his shoulder and gave it a pat. “Don’t worry. I’ll deal with all that. Let’s meet some time to discuss about the other matter regarding this, alright?” With that, I left the room and closed the door.

I turned around and bounced on my toes, punching fists into the air as I finally got someone to help with my plan. I quickly cleared my throat and adjusted my clothes before squeezing through the crowd to get out of the party.

I flinched at the touch of a hand on my arm that pulled me away from the crowd. I sighed in relief when I noticed it was Lucas.

“Leaving already?” Lucas shouted, though it was drowned out by the background noises. I scrunched up my nose and frowned at the smell of alcohol that filled Lucas’s breath. I grabbed his wrist firmly and nodded my head.

“Yes, I am. And with you.” I tried pulling Lucas out but was easily defeated when he stopped in his tracks and turned to a girl I barely knew. “Sorry, sweetie. Let’s meet next time.” Lucas leaned down and shouted to her before turning back to me with a cheeky smile. “Okay now you can drag me out.” I rolled my eyes and dragged him out of the house, once again having to deal with people coming at us every which way.

We finally reached the front door. I pushed Lucas out before I closed the door behind us. “Finally.” I breathed out as I gasped desperately for air. It was way too stuffy in there due to the many people as well as the only thing that filled the air was the reeking smell of alcohol.

“So what happened with Johnny. Did he accept?” I simply gave a lopsided grin with a lifted brow. Lucas nodded in affirmation as he instantly figured out the answer to his own question by the way I reacted.

“I finally get to settle this boyfriend shit and continue getting money.” I said, me eyes practically twinkling as I envisioned myself doing all sorts of things with the money I’ll get from Father. “I bet the only reason he accepted was because he knows you’re my baby sister.” Half-shrugging, I opened the door to the car and jerked my head to signal Lucas to go in as well.

The drive home was peaceful as I rolled down the window to feel the cool breeze blowing on my face. Luckily I had my hair clipped up so I didn’t have to suffer with tangled locks of hair.

I dropped Lucas off at the west wing house. Just so you know, our mansion is huge. There’s the main house in the center, along with four other houses surrounding it. And those houses are huge. Lucas mostly spent time on his own in the west wing house, that’s why he’s always not seen with me and my parents in the main house to have meals together and such.

I parked my car in front of the north wing house and headed inside, dashing straight for the showers, desperate to get alcohol smell off me immediately.

Time check. Thursday afternoon. I did some research on Johnny and found that he’s majoring in Law. He has a class today which ends late afternoon so I figured of talking to him about the plan once he was done.

I was able to sleep in today since I didn’t have any classes or plans. I laid around in my bed for hours till the clock struck one in the afternoon, forcing me to finally get out of bed.

To my surprise, I met Lucas polishing his helmet in the lounge room of the main house. I decided to eat my lunch there with him. Bringing my plate of leftover fast food from the night I spent shopping, I sat beside Lucas and took a bite. “Aren’t you suppose to get ready to meet Johnny? He ends his class at four.”

I took a quick glance at my phone to check the time. “I have like three hours.” I said nonchalantly as I let my body slouch into the bean bag I was sitting on.

“You take three hours to get ready.” Lucas scrutinized me up and down, looking surprised at my words. “Quit looking at me like that. I’m not going to take long to get ready. I’m not in the mood to look fancy.” I huffed out. Meeting Johnny was my only plan today so I didn’t bother to look good if I’m only going to be spending a short time out.

I hung out with Lucas till I was done with my food and realised that it was three and decided to get ready. I bid Lucas goodbye while he shouted a “Goodluck!” in exchange before I made me way to my room.

I didn’t take long to get ready since all I did was used light makeup and made a quick decision of wearing a white long sleeved turtle neck under a brown checkered vest along with a dark brown skirt and white platform sneakers. I picked out a random bag and shoved my necessities into it and headed out.

Thanks to Lucas, I was able to get Johnny’s phone number and texted him saying that I’ll reach in ten minutes. He was quick to reply and informed me that he was still in class. I replied back, telling him that I’ll be at the cafe beside campus. He left me on seen but I shrugged, not bothering about it too much despite it being my pet peeve since I knew he was in class.

I entered the cafe and ordered a cup of iced tea. I didn’t buy a drink for Johnny since I didn’t know what he liked and didn’t want to take any chances and waste my money if he doesn’t what I ordered. After playing about two rounds of COD Mobile’s Battle Royale, I heard the bell above the cafe’s door ring, telling me that someone has entered. Being too concentrated in the game, I didn’t realise a figure sitting in front of me till he knocked his knuckles against the table a few times. I looked up to find Johnny placing his bag behind him before turning to me.

“You can order a drink first if you want.” I said with subtle smile. Johnny shook his head, leaning forward with his elbows against the edge of the table. “Eh it’s fine.”

I hooked my feet around the chair legs and pulled myself closer to the table, setting my palms faced down flat on the table. “Okay let’s go over a few things.”

“Firstly, I assume you have a suit because you’re a law major.” I took a sip of my iced tea as I saw Johnny nod and kept silent, motioning me to continue. “Secondly, the fake identity I came up for you is that you’re the son of the CEO of a well known major company in France and you earn money by renting out buildings that are worth millions. How’s that?”

Johnny didn’t answer, puckering his lips as stretched his neck by tilted his head to the side. “Don’t you think that’s too far fetched?”

I let out a ‘tsk’ as I reviewed it in my head, nodding my head slowly the more I thought about it. “But since you’re working in France I can make up the excuse that we’re doing long distance and you’re only visiting here for a short period to come to the party.” I said, adding on with a, “That way, you won’t have to do this again.” I gave a half shrug, bringing my drink in front of me and leaning down to take another sip, this time with keeping the straw in the mouth.

“That’s actually smart.” Johnny mumbled, snatching my drink and taking a sip, earning a raised brow and creased forehead from me. “I figured we should start getting comfortable now if we want to seem like a real couple to your parents.” He commented.

“You really are the perfect rich boyfriend I need.” I said with a wide mischievous smirk. Johnny chuckled and leaned back into his chair, folding his arms. “Sure. But I want money too. Not just the food.” A bright smile adored his face.

“I’ll give you anything if we get this done.”

Friday came with the blink of an eye. The party starts at seven and I decided to skip class today. Being rich meant that my parents don’t care about what I do, as long as I keep their image clean. I’ve always done well in my academics so it didn’t hurt to skip once in awhile.

While I ate breakfast, or rather lunch now that it’s afternoon, and scrolled through social media, I suddenly remembered one important thing I’ve forgotten to discuss with Johnny. I quickly sent him a text message.

[2:46PM] Sumi: wAit btw do you have a car to drive me to the venue?

I didn’t get an immediate reply so I simply continued scrolling through twitter. While reading the news, a notification of Johnny popped up.

[3:07PM] Johnny: I can borrow one, don’t worry. Just text me when to pick you up.

I heaved a sigh of relief and nodding, leaving his text on read and placed my phone screen down on the table and continued to eat while I admired the garden through the full wall window.

I spent my day peacefully by binge watching my show Netflix that I was two episodes away from finishing. Just when I thought I could accomplish my mission of completing the series, I looked at the time and groaned. “I’m too lazy to get ready.” After constantly whining and rolling around in bed, I finally got up and headed over to my walk in closet.

Once again, I didn’t bother to try hard finding something to wear. I only grabbed the first clothing item on sight that caught my eye, which was a dark blue long dress with skinny straps a low cut neckline. It had silver embellishments all over and because of that, it meant that I didn’t have to wear a bunch of jewellery to make it look expensive.

I threw it on and wore light makeup that allowed my natural beauty to shine through, along with a silver necklace that had a star hung on it and white high heels. I finally paired it with a white sling bag and shoved my necessities in.

I sent a text to Johnny that he can come to my house now to pick me up. He was quick to reply with an, “Okay.” as I made my way from the north wing house and to the main house where Johnny could pick me up so as to not confuse him with the complex structure of the mansion.

I ended up waiting at least twenty minutes at the pick up roundabout when I finally saw a car driving in through the entrance and coming to a stop in front of me. I saw Johnny in the driver’s seat and quickly went in the car.

“Can you send me the address?” He asked while I tried to get comfortable. “Oh yeah, sorry. Hold on.” Johnny had once hand on the steering wheel while the other was placed on his thigh. Sure enough, he looked high class in the grey suit he had, along with a dark blue tie that coincidentally matched my dress and hair that was slicked back handsomely.

While I was texting him the postal code, I froze in my spot when Johnny suddenly got close to me and reached his hand out to the side of my seat. I blinked my eyes as I tilted my phone down. I was pretty sure my breathing stopped for a second due to how close he was as I got a clear look of his side profile that looked nothing but stunning. I would be lying is I said my heart didn’t skip a beat at his little action as he fastened the seatbelt for me.

Once I’ve sent him the address, Johnny started the car and began to drive. It was silent for a moment until Johnny cleared his throat, making my gaze from the window and to him. “I’m actually kind of nervous. I honestly wouldn’t know what to say and all, depsite me knowing my role.”

I hummed and fiddled with the strap on my dress. “It’s fine. I’ll do the talking. Just be as formal as possible.” I advised him as a way to comfort him with a shrug. I tried to act as calm as possible to some what help Johnny feel the same.

Johnny turned to glance at me, noticing I kept looking out the window. “Should I open the window for you? It’ll be better an air conditioning.” I nodded with glee. “Thanks. I actually like it when the windows are down.” I said as Johnny pushed the button that rolled the window down.

The moment I felt the cold breeze on my face, I sighed in satisfaction. Though that feeling didn’t last long as my hair stared to fly everywhere. I could already tell I needed to handle my messy tangled hair after this. Breathing in the night air, I looked to Johnny who stole a quick glance at me. “I know, my hair’s ugly. I’ll fix it later.”

Johnny doesn’t answer as we finally arrived at the entrance of the party. Johnny’s jaw dropped at the looked at the huge and tall building. I laughed at his reaction and poked his shoulder with my finger, jerking my head towards his window. Johnny flinched back at the sight of a guy waiting outside the car. “Give him the keys and he’ll drive the car to the parking area.” I said and stepped out. Johnny stepped out as well as quickly handed the guy his car keys before running up to me.

“Holy shit this looks is so grand...” Johnny muttered to me. I chuckled as I slid my phone into my sling bag. Johnny then grabbed my arm and linked it with his. I looked up to him, twitching a brow. “What? Isn’t this what couples do?” He asked, copying the expression I had on my face. I exhaled sharply and pulled mysef close to him till our sides were touching.

Johnny suddenly turned around and looked down on me. “The hair.” He painted out. Before I could do anything about it, he leaned in and brushed my hair through his fingers gently as he got rid of the tangles in my hair. Once again I froze in my spot as I tried my best to hide the heat I felt on my cheeks.

“Okay, let’s go in.” At the same time, me and Johnny pushed our shoulders back and stood strong as we walked into the party.

“Can you not look so nervous? It’s scaring me.” I whispered while watching Johnny play with his glass of wine, swirling the liquid in his hand. I saw beads of sweat dripping down the side of his face. I decided to take a cloth from my sling bag and dapped it off gently.

“If we’re lucky, we might not even see Father because he’ll be too busy talking to other people. He might also forget that he wanted to meet you.” I didn’t hear Johnny reply. I look up from my drink to see him staring behind me. I turned around and my eyes immediately darted to the man who stood out from the crowd, suddenly walking towards us.

“I’m guessing that’s your father.” I quickly turned around and duck my head low, thinking I would be able to hide but couldn’t since Father already saw me and called out my name. “Sumi!” Father called out. I placed a hand on Johnny’s arm and patted it. “Okay let’s chill.” I whispered, taking in deep breaths to calm myself down. Before Johnny could say anything else, I turned back around to meet Father with a wide smile.

Father hummed in response, his eyes immediately going to Johnny and scanned him up and down. Johnny looked at me as if he was asking for help and I could only mouth out, “Greet him.”

“Good evening, sir. I’m Johnny, Sumi’s boyfriend.” Johnny introduced himself as he adjusted his blazer and buttoned it up smoothly. Despite looking so nervous a moment ago, I was shocked at how well he was acting. Father gave a half-smile and nodded his head. “So this is him I see...” Father muttered under his breath. “He can’t stay for long since he lives in France and needs to resume work soon.” I added on, linking my arm around Johnny’s and glanced up to see Johnny looking as calm as ever.

“Ah so what do you do in France?”

“Rent out my properties, sir.”

Father cleared his throat and glanced sideways. “I’m guessing you earn enough for yourself?” Johnny laughed gently and nodded. “Of course, sir. More than enough me and Sumi.”

I could only hold my breath and I wondered how long this conversation would last. As Johnny noticed my nerve wrecking state, Johnny quickly spoke up. “I think you have some business men that are willing to talk to you at the back there. They came up to me asking where you were.” Johnny said swiftly. “Till next time, then. I hope you’ll stay longer here before going back to France.”

“Of course, sir. Have a great evening.” With that, Father finally turned around and disappeared into the crowd. Both Johnny and I let out sighs of relief and taking in deep breaths before looking at each other. “Like hell is Johnny gonna stay here any longer.” I muttered as I glared. Johnny laughed at my action and shook his head. “Now where’s the food?” Johnny with desperation, his head turning in all directions. I giggled and held his hand, tilting my head to where the catering area was.

Johnny’s mouth gaped as open as it can be just like when he first saw the building from outside. He immediately dashes over to the dessert area. I adjusted my dress before going to him. “Don’t you want to have a proper dinner?” I asked, my hand motioning over to area where proper meals were handed out. Johnny shook his head with glee as he grabbed a few macorons and shoving it into his mouth all at once. I chuckled and took one as well, taking a bite out of it before grabbing a plate from the side and handing it to him. “Put what you want here and we can eat somewhere else.”

Johnny didn’t hesitate to take one of every dessert that was offered, especially macarons in every colour. Once he was done, he turned to me with his mouth still full from all the items he shoved in. I nodded my head and guided him out of the party and to a garden.

Johnny and I sat down on a bench that gave a clear view of the night sky. Since the venue was up a hill, we could practically see the whole city from up here. I breathed in the night air and sighed in satisfaction before turning to Johnny who was still eating. I took one of the desserts and ate them. “Don’t eat all those by yourself.” I complained, letting out a ‘tsk’ after and rolling my eyes. Johnny offered a dessert and I ate it wholeheartedly. “If this is what I have to do as your boyfriend, I’d gladly do this all the time. Just call me and I’ll be there.” Johnny said as he swallowed what he ate and hummed happily.

“I told you the food here is good.” I said with a laugh as I watched Johnny ate. He left a few desserts on the plate and placed it beside him before putting his arm on the back of the bench and turning on me. “Say... Why don’t you get an actual rich boyfriend? Why do you need to lie?” Johnny asked me with his gentle and sweet voice.

I pursed my lips into a thin line, taking in a deep breath before answering. “My father doesn’t give me and Lucas money even though we’re rich. The only way I could get it is if I say I have a rich boyfriend and pamper him with money so that I can live a comfortable life.” Johnny gave a frown and leaned back into the bench. “But why not get a real boyfriend?”

“Because I want the money for myself only. I’m not interested in dating and shit.” I said as I turned to Johnny, my eyes widening as I noticed Johnny looking at me intensively as if he was scanning his eyes down every inch of my face. He was quick to shale his head and acted as though he wasn’t looking at me.

“And Lucas does illegal racing...” Johnny muttered as I nodded my head. I leaned forward and rested my chin on the palm of my hand, closing my eyes to rest them for a moment. I felt Johnny moving around in his seat, not sure of what he was doing till I felt a hand on the side of my head, guiding it. I looked up to find my head resting on Johnny’s shoulder with him looking straight ahead. He looked down on me and gave a gentle smile. “You seem tired so.” Johnny shrugged.

“Thanks.” I whispered. The two of us sat there, silently admiring each other’s comfort. I closed my eyes and seemingly fell asleep as I found the comfort of Johnny’s presence and the cold air blowing on me.

After awhile, I finally woke up. I rubbed my eyes vigorously and looked around, realising I was in Johnny’s car in front of my house. Johnny turned to me when he heard me sniffle. “You were asleep for quite some time, miss.” Johnny said, moving towards me and once again getting extremely close to me as he released the seatbelt on me. I cleared my throat. I noticed Johnny didn’t have his blazer on him. I looked down and saw that it covered me like a blanket. “You can keep it. It must be cold outside. Quickly get in and sleep, alright?”

I nodded my head and got out of the car. Before turning away and walking in, I bent down slightly to meet Johnny’s eyes. “Thank you.” I said out loud, despite knowing Johnny couldn’t hear me through the window. He bowed his head before starting the car and driving away. I watched the back of the car till it was out of sight.

I got in and did my usual routine of washing up. As I got into bed and started playing with my phone, my eyes slowly went to Johnny’s blazer that was sitting at the edge of my bed. I grabbed it and held it out in the air, tilting my head as I thought about the night I spent with Johnny. I couldn’t help but think about how comfortable I felt with him. I felt like Cinderella at the ball. He was gentle, sweet and caring. He was like a perfect boyfriend to have. Too bad our relationship was only an act, and nothing more as the moment I stepped into my home, all the magic I felt that night disappeared into thin air.

I just finished class and as I was walking down the hall to get to the parking lot. I saw Johnny coming out from one of the meeting rooms. I ran towards him and tapped his shoulder from behind, making him turned around to look down at me. “Hey Johnny!” I exclaimed, waving at him.

Johnny smiled happily. “Hey.” He greeted back, placing his phone into the back pocket of his jeans. “What’re you doing here? You don’t have classes today if I recall.” I said as I recalled the information from the research I did on Johnny. “You really did a thorough check on me, didn’t you?” I laughed and nodded my head with a shrug of my shoulders.

“I had a meeting with the frat.” Johnny jerked his head to the direction of the meeting room. “Anyways I’m glad to run into you here. Do you have plans today?” Johnny looked up into the sky with furrowed eyebrows before tilting his head back down and shaking his head. “I don’t think so. Why?”

“Great! I just got money from my father and I want to treat you out as a thanks for last Friday.” I pulled out my wallet and waved it in front of it. Johnny snatched it out of my hands and opened my wallet only to have his jaw drop and at the amount of money inside. “How much did he give you exactly?” Johnny widened his eyes as he brought my wallet closer to his face.

I had to tiptoe to I snatch my wallet back due to the drastic height difference between me and Johnny and took out the money from my wallet. “Eh about five thousand.” I shoved the money back in. Johnny leaned in to look at my wallet once again. “No wonder it looks so thick.” He muttered. I laughed and smacked him lightly in the shoulder. “I’m at your service to grant you whatever you want.” I faked a curtsy and grinned. “Hm I have a place we could go.” Johnny said with a finger on his chin.

I ended up taking Johnny to a cafe of some sort. It wasn’t too expensive and it wasn’t too cheap either. “Why here when you can literally spend five thousand dollars on anything else?” I asked as Johnny opened the door for me and we both went in. “To be honest, I’d feel bad for spending your money so I just thought of spending time with you.” I subconsciously eyed him up and down, causing Johnny’s grin to become more cheeky.

While Johnny and I were looking up at the menu above the counter, my eyes scanned the cafe as well, until one person that caught my eye wnd made me do a double. “For fuck’s sake why is she here?!” I whispered as I started to slap Johnny’s arm rapidly, causing him to fly back. “Are you okay? You crazy or something?” Johnny joked with a big laugh.

“No, you idiot! Look!” I pointed to the girl sitting by the window with another man. “She’s my cousin and I don’t want her to see me because she’s always trying picking a fight.”

“Let’s go out then?” I nodded desperately as I linked my arm with Johnny’s. Just as we were about to take the first step. I heard my name being called out. Oh God.

“Sumi. Nice seeing you here.” She said with the most fakest voice and smile I’ve ever head. “Thought you were in Sydney?” I asked, offering to give a half-smile as the bare minimum.

“Well I’ve done my business there so I’m back.” She replied, folding her arms as she turned to Johnny and eyed him intensely. I furrowed my eyebrows in annoyance. “Who’s this fine man?” She asked in a seductive manner, bringing her hand up to Johnny’s shoulder and grazing her finger over it as she admired his face.

As Johnny started to feel uncomfortable, he faked a smile and shoved her hand away, proceeding to wrap his arm around my waist and pulling me close. “Sumi’s boyfriend.” He announced, completely not fazed by my cousin’s flirting. Of course I couldn’t help but blush at his words as I suddenly felt embarrassed and felt butterflies fluttering in my stomach.

My cousin nodded her head slowly, glancing at me and noticing how awkward I looked. I saw the look of suspicion in her face and immediately tried to stay as calm and natural as possible. Though that didn’t work out much as my cousin suddenly said, “Doesn’t look like it to me.”

“Well we are together. I’m totally taken. Actually we have somewhere to be so if you’ll excuse us.” Johnny bowed his head slightly and removed his arm from my waist, proceeding to grab my hand and interlocking our fingers and pulled me out swiftly.

“That was terrifying.” I ran a hand through my hair. Realising my hand was still interlocked with Johnny’s, I tried pulling away, thinking that it made Johnny uncomfortable. But he held my hand tighter the moment I tried to let go.

“Let’s continue to hold hands in case she comes out or s-something.” Johnny’s stuttering in the end really made it clear to me that it was just an excuse. I chuckled and nodded my head. “Sure thing.” I said with a playful wink.

“Besides, I actually like pretending to be your boyfriend. Sumi’s boyfriend. It sounds good whenever I say it. Ah I’m impressed with myself.” Johnny sighed dreamily as he began to walk. Though, I couldn’t.

I was completely frozen and my mind went blank at his words. I’m pretty sure my face was blushing a brighter pink now as it felt more heated than before. I bit my lip before looking up at him when he called my name. “You comin’?” I shook my head to get rid of my thoughts of Johnny, giving him a smile before skipping forward. “Let’s.”

After that day, Johnny and I began to get close. Very close, and very quickly. And to think this fake dating only lasted for that one night. It was obvious after the many secret hangouts we’ve done that we liked each other, a lot. Arcade dates, amusement parks, trying out every ice cream store in the city, you name it.

Unfortunately, we had to keep this all secret. Which meant we couldn’t post on social medias and we had to be cautious whenever we go out. Regardless, we still had fun spending time together. I was able to lie to Father for more than a year now.

Slowly but surely, our fake dating scheme became more and more real. That is until one major problem that I expected to come have finally arrived.

“This man... He isn’t like what he seems, am I right?” I didn’t answer.

All of a sudden, we were here. With Johnny standing in front of Father while Lucas stood beside him. Along with my cousin who was smugly looking at the situation in front of her. Johnny and I hung our heads low, unable to give Father an answer.

“Father don’t blame it on him. I’m the one who asked him to do this. I did this so you can continue giving me money.” I explained, trying my best to get Johnny out of this mess.

I couldn’t help but take a quick glance at my cousin. How did Father find out you ask? My cousin caught me going out with Johnny despite me telling Father that “he was already in France”. I glared at her as she giggled under her breath. That bitch.

“You did it for money? Okay, you want money? Go to Sydney. Work for your cousin and earn the money yourself.”

I gulped, lifted my head up and turning to my cousin, who squealed with excitement as she stomped her feet. “Really, Uncle Kang? I’d love to have her with me in Sydney!” She shouted, though I could sense her devil like nature the moment Father looked away to Johnny and giving me a wide smirk.

“Sir, that’s not necessary. Don’t send her away. I promise I won’t go near her again.” Johnny begged with his palms pressed together. I bit my lower lip hard as I balled my hand into a first.

“Johnny has nothing to do with this. Don’t make him beg.” I growled. Father let out a scoff in amusement as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants.

“I’m sending you away regardless. And you’ll find a better partner there in Sydney. Understood?!” Father’s sudden raise in tone made everyone jump out of their skins in terror.

“Fuck you, Father.” I cursed out, grabbing Johnny’s wrist tightly. As soon as I wanted to drag him out, the two bodyguards that were standing at the entrance removed my grasp of Johnny, holding him back.

“Pack your things. You’re flying tonight.” Father said before exiting the scene. Johnny was dragged out of the house. And I was held back by Lucas.

After that night, I never got to see Johnny again. I cried for days on end while I made my trip to Sydney, wondering when will I ever meet him again, or if I even could.

3 years later.

Finising work at eleven due to my cousin bossing me around to do useless things made me reach my limit of exploding in anger. I could have thrown a table at her if I wanted to but I was too kind for that. I was just glad I was able to come home and lay myself head first into my bed.

Opening the door, I was greeted by Winwin watching the television. “Hey!” He shouted, wanting to wave his hand at me but chose not to as he saw the look of anger and tiredness in my face, along with my slouched back and weak movements. “Jee did she give you a hard time again?” He asked, pressing the controller to pause whatever he was watching.

I dragged my feet to the couch, throwing my bag on the table and taking the empty spot next to Winwin. “She fucking puts me through hell almost everyday.” I hissed, running my hand through my hair in frustration. “Deep breasts, Sumi. Deep breasts.” Winwin joked, making me laugh. It was an inside joke me and Winwin came up with and it never failed to elevate the atmosphere.

“Shut the fuck up.” I said as I laughed harder and punched him in the shoulder. Suddenly, a notification came up on my phone as the clock struck twelve. I unlocked it to check what it was. My smile quickly turned into a frown as I saw the alert on my calendar that today is Johnny’s birthday.

Winwin saw my drastic change in mood. From being pissed, to laughing and now being quiet and sad. He placed a hand my back, rubbing up and down slowly as I kept my eyes on words on the screen, the words resonated in my head.

“It’s been three years, Sumi. Despite all that, I’m sure he hasn’t forgotten you.” I could only suspire in despair.

“If only I could have any form of communication with him. What if he sees the news of us getting married? Fucking hell all this is fucked up.” I slammed my phone screen down beisde me and pressed my hands on my face as I couldn’t hold back the tears that welled up in my eyes.

“As your fiancé and friend, I suggest you fuck whatever your father’s making you do and go back to him. I hate seeing you like this, Sumi. It hurts.” Winwin whispered.

When I reached Sydney three years ago, Father didn’t hesitate to force me to get engaged to Winwin, an actual rich man who is the heir of a large company. We were only engaged for the connection of two big companies and nothing more. Nonetheless, he was a good friend to stayed with me through all my hurtful days and hardships while I grieved about my separation with Johnny.

I sniffled and gulped before bringing my head up to look at Winwin. “But how? Father tracks my every move in my phone. My location, who I text and call. What I post on my socials. I can’t escape him.” I bit my lower lip as I ran a hand down my face, waniting to wipe off my tears but of course it was to no avail as the tears couldn’t stop flowing down.

“No. Fuck all that. Contact him. And run away once you’re with him. Whatever happens, I’ll be the one to settle it for you, okay?” My lips quivered as I forced a smile and bringing Winwin in for a hug.

“Thank you, so much. You’re a great friend. I’m sure you’ll find someone who’ll appreciate you.” I whispered as I took my time to admrie his embrace, being the only thing that brought me comfort.

With that, I texted Johnny through Instagram. I knew Father would see our conversation but at this point, I didn’t give a damn. I’ve been wanting Johnny for three years. I missed him way too much I couldn’t handle it no more.

I informed Johnny on the very same night that I’ll fly to Paris and meet him there, so that we could stay there for a couple of months before flying back. Luckily, he was down for the idea. Though I was scared that Father would already know my location, I didn’t care. I’d fly to any country with Johnny and not have him find out. I’ll go through such extends just to have Johnny by my side again.

The next day, I booked a flight and packed every single one of my belongings. I bid Winwin a last warm farewell before I headed to the airport. I was extremely cautious about the fact that I might get caught since Father’s bodyguards could be anywhee near me, which is why I tried to be as discreet as possible.

I finally got into the plain without any slip ups. I absentmindedly looked out the window as I thought about Johnny. Over three years, of course I’d expect him to be different. But how different? Did he change much? Anything can change within three years.

I couldn’t fall asleep with my thoughts of Johnny running circles in my mind the whole flight. Soon, we finally landed.

I didn’t tell Johnny where to meet him in the airport specifically since I forgot. I was about to text him when I suddenly hear people shouting at the entrance. I turned my head to see the Father’s bodyguards asking everyone if they’ve seen the girl in the paper they held up in the air.

I widened my eyes at the sight and immediately panicked. Of course Father would have some connections here in Paris. Why was I so dumb to forget such an information? I wasted no time to act calm and brisk walk as far away as I could, though their voices became louder and louder as they got closer.

I looked back to check where they were and as I was about to turn and walk forward, I was slammed against the wall. I looked up and gaped my mouth open in shock.

“Johnny? I-”

I was quickly cut off when Johnny’s lips connected to mine, his arm wrapping around my waist while his other hand was against the wall. I couldn’t resist and kissed him back wholeheartedly. I missed his touch too mucb. I missed this feeling that I could only feel whenever I’m with him.

Johnny held me close till the bodyguards went past us, luckily they didn’t seem to even spare a glance our way. I was the first to pull back from that kiss that was about to get heated quick, gasping for air.

“I waited for you, for so long.” Johnny breathed out, tucking the messy strands of hair that covered my forehead behind my ears.

“I missed you more. I missed you so fucking much.” I hugged him tightly, digging my face into his chest as my tears started streaming down my cheeks again, leaving a wet spot on Johnny’s white shirt. He cupped my cheeks in his hands and brought my head up to look at him.

“Sh... I’m here, okay? I’m here now.” I sucked my lips in as I clsoed my eyes for a moment.

“I don’t care where we go next. As long as I’m with you. Please stay right by my side and never let anything cut between us again.”

Johnny nodded with his gentle smile. The one I missed dearly, and the one that never failed to put an impact on me.

“I will. I promise. Because I love you.”

#nct x reader #nct #nct 2020 #nct imagines #nct 127 #nct ff #nct fluff #nct imagine #nct scenarios #nct angst #nct johnny #johnny suh #johnny suh x reader #nct johnny x reader #nct johnny imagines #nct johnny scenarios #johnny suh x y/n #johnny nct

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razorblade180 · 3 years

Text

Twin snowflakes part 24: Date Night.

Part 23 here! <-

Still exhausted, Veronica flopped back onto her bed with the help of Nick. The girl let the mattress steal all tension from her body, letting out a sigh of satisfaction. “Aaahhhh! That’s the stuff. Appreciate the help.”

“Don’t mention it. Especially after what you just did. Frankly I had no plan to get Summer to cooperate.”

Veronica chuckled the best she could. “Hehe, not often Nicholas Schnee doesn’t have a plan. I guess you owe me then? Lucky for you I take words of affirmation as payment all the time.”

Nick smiled. It was nice to see Veronica joking. Encountering Shiva always put a dread over him, but she seemed to not care much. That’s Veronica alright, refusing to take crap from anybody. “I could praise you, or how about I praise you over a nice dinner?” Nick quickly responded.

All the neurons in Veronica’s brain suddenly came to a screeching halt. Her body immediately came flinging forward to sit upright to stare at the smiling boy. “What…?” She asked, still processing the question.

“Let me take you dinner.” He said again, “I have a reservation at this place in Atlas tonight. I was gonna cancel but we could just have a night out together. You still haven’t tried much food from here right? Plus I know you still have to be hungry. This works out.”

Veronica couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Did Nick just ask her out on a dinner date? That didn’t sound right, even if it was a thank you gift. As quickly as her eyes lit up, they began to squint at him with skepticism. “What happened with Valerie?”

Now his eyes got big. He wasn’t expecting that response. “Uhhhh what?” His voice gave away his nervousness and Veronica could clearly tell.

“Don’t play dumb with me Nick. I’m not gonna call you a liar or anything, but I know you, and you know me; as well as my feelings.” She said that last part sheepishly. “You aren’t the kind of person to play with my emotions or offer a dinner date when you’re crushing on Val, so what’s up? Be straight with me”

It was becoming clear to Nick that he apparently could be read like a book. This is the third person within twenty four hours to look at him and automatically knew to ask about Valerie. This was ridiculous! His life had many things that made him bummed out. How are people guessing right on the first try!?”

“Uhhhhh” he scratched the back of his head and sighed. No point tip toeing around it. Not like it was a secret or anything, yet his stomach felt queasy all the same. “I ran into her yesterday. She was pretty upset that I didn’t tell her I got sick. I apologized and tried to smooth our recent bickering over with dinner. It was going okay, but then…Val immediately started to brush me off. I got upset, she started deflecting, people started staring, then she really started saying some things that really got me upset; kinda made a little scene out of it before walking off. Nor really princely, huh?” He tried smiling at the self jab, but failed. “Anyways, next time we meet per her request more a less will be at the tournament. We currently aren’t on speaking terms. Something she should be fine with since distance was what she wanted in the first place.”

Veronica could hear a little venom in those words. Val really did have Nick upset. He’s never this openly bitter. Though maybe it was being behind closed doors that allowed him to drop the facade of being consistently pleasant. Frankly, that made Veronica a little happy for him, in an odd way. However… “I see. So I assume that this dinner reservation was for you and her?” An answer wasn’t needed. Nick’s moment of sulking was replaced with a guilt ridden look on his face the moment she asked. “You know, kinda shitty you’re asking me to a dinner meant for another girl that turned you down. Not a fan of being someone’s second choice.”

Nick closed his eyes and let in a sharp breath like he had just been hit. “Oooo yeah, yeah that was pretty messed up for me.”

“Mhmm, big time. No girl wants to hear that you know?”

“I didn’t mean- I wasn’t trying to...sorry. That was tasteless and selfish of me.” He looked down, shamefully and with genuine guilt. It was only when Veronica’s hand lifted his head by his chin did he see the girl stare at him with an observing gaze and lips pouting to the side. She then crossed her arms and looked away from him, ears tucked and a tinge of red visible on her.

“You’re lucky you’re a good person and I am hungry. I…guess you could apologize with a good dinner?” Veronica knew he wasn’t trying to be insensitive. Still, she was more than a little ticked off at herself for letting him off easy. Darn his good qualities! Being mad towards him for long was never gonna happen. Not to mention having a calm outing together is a golden opportunity. No way she wasn’t gonna capitalize off of Valerie’s mistakes. Her eyes shifted towards Nick to see a relieved smile that only made staying upset harder.

“This place better be good! Also I’m gonna order every expensive thing possible!” Veronica declared, attempting to save face.

“Hehe, thank you, and go right ahead and order anything you want. It’s not until around nine so please, get some rest.”

“I should be saying that to you. Isn’t going out at night in the cold while moody only gonna give you more sniffles?”

“Pfft, I’m sick anymore. Just focus on healing and rest. Not that I have to tell you this, but you gotta dress nice for where we’re eating.”

Veronica smirked, pointing at a closet of designed outfits. “Careful. I may not be worth billions but I’ll make you look like a pocket change if you don’t wear you best.”

The boy let out a cocky chuckle before walking to the door. “For your information, I’m two billion.” He said puffing out his chest playfully, leaving on that note. He could hear her gentle laughter behind the door. At least he could lift one girl’s spirit. As for the other, Nick looked at his sister’s locked door. He couldn’t help himself. He wasn’t going to knock, but he had to at least walk to it. Come to think of it, Nick had a hard time remembering when this door remained open. Most days it kept either the warmth in, while shutting others out. Slowly he rested his hand against it. The wood, cool to the touch.

“Tell me what you need.” He thought, “I’m not a mind reader…” Nick could only sigh. He removed his hand and stepped back. As he began to walk, the door moved. As if something was pressed against it from the other side.

“I know you’re there.” Summer said from the other side. Nick quickly walked back to it. Somehow he could imagine how she was on the other side. One leg extended while the other was bent as she pressed her back to the door. Nick took a seat himself, mimicking the pose he envisioned.

“You okay?”

“Far from it, but that’s par for course…” Summer looked over her shoulder as if she was actually resting against her brother’s back. “Honestly I feel so fucked up some days that therapy feels like a joke. I think I need a break.”

“What kind of break?”

“The usual…” Summer let her words draw out lazily. The back of her head rhythmically tapped the door. “Care to join me?”

Nick tugged at the carpet fibers, mulling it over. “Mmmm sorry, I’m not in the mood for that kind of relief. Besides, I already have plans. I’ll cover for you though. I think venting could do some real good for ya. Just don’t stay out too long. Leave around… half past nine.”

“Will do, thanks Nick.” Even though a door separated them, Summer could feel the care from the other side. Veronica’s words back in the forest about Nick and how Summer treats their relationship struck an all too sensitive cord. “I promise not to worry you. Have fun with whatever you’re doing tonight. I’ll keep you updated and everything.”

“Don’t stress about it. I believe in you. Anyways, I gotta get going. I think I’ll do a bit of distressing in my own way.” Nick stands up. “Better go while there’s daylight.”

“Gonna pay respects?”

“Yep. Enjoy your outing. I’ll see ya tomorrow if I don’t see ya tonight before I leave. Love ya.” He walked away after that, not expecting a response. Didn’t need one. After all, Summer coming to the door said enough.

All in all, things felt okay. Life felt okay. By no means was it perfect, but Nick was thankful he had blessings to count. He’d feel better after the tournament. What should’ve been an exciting time was getting more troublesome. Training, performing, fighting Darren in the duos, and now a not so friendly rematch with Valerie. At least Eliza still had a sportsmanship attitude. He still needed to ask her favor as well. By the end of this she would certainly be sick of him. Nick was surprised she didn't block his number yet. That would royally suck.

His slow walk took down the stairs and back to the front of the manor. He heard dishes clanking from the door to the far left while he grabbed his dark blue winter coat off the rack. “That you dad?” The kitchen door swung open to show Jaune drying a cup and Yang waving in the background as she held a slice in her mouth while talking to Blake. How they managed to swipe pizza out of Veronica’s room was beyond Nick.

“What’s up?” Jaune said, noticing his son put his jacket on. “Heading out? Your mom and aunts should be back soon. Pretty sure they’d want-”

“Veronica and I are going on a dinner date later.” Nick interjected. As planned, his father was derailed. Stammering footsteps came plopping out of the kitchen in the form of a very wide eyed blonde, and a shocked ninja. Blake’s ears even did the little twitch Nick as seen Veronica do whenever she’s caught off guard. “Yeah I thought you all should now. I’d say don’t bug her about it and let her rest, but considering Yang’s feet are already pointed towards the stairs…”

Yang looked down. “Huh...how about that?” She said, walking up the stairs with Blake trying to stop her.”

“Let her rest Yang!”

“But I wanna say stuff~” she whined, “I guarantee you she’s listening to us right now.”

Yang was right on the money. Veronica was currently judging how much strength it would take to lock the door. Her odds were bad. “Okay I don’t care how cute he is. This was cruel!” Veronica thought loudly to herself.

Jaune watched Blake slowly get dragged up the stairs by trying to stop Yang. Without looking, he leaned forward and reached out to grab Nick’s shoulder, who was trying to slowly back up to the door. He faced forward and smiled. “Good attempt, but you’d need a better distraction than that.”

“Eh it was worth a shot…” Nick sighed. He was pulled forward and fell into a surprise hug. He stood silently for a minute before wrapping his arms around his dad. “You needed a hug?”

“Not really, but you looked like you did.” Jaune said, squeezing tired. “You know you’re growing up into a fine young man. Better than me by a long shot at your age. I hope you know your entire family is proud of you.”

“I know dad…” Nick said, his voice getting stuck in his throat a little.

“I know I can’t relate to some of the pressures you feel. Honestly being a part of a household with this much attention and expectation still gets me anxious from time to time. So don’t hesitate to vent to me. You’re a young adult yeah, but I’m still my son and sixteen. Weiss and I would much rather see you yell at an annoying cameraman or get scrappy with a bully than see you try to hold it in for the sake of family image. Remember that.”

How did he do it? It was unfair, downright cheating almost in Nick’s eyes. How could so many people easily call him out? “What’s the point of enduring if everyone I wanna reassure sees right through the act? So much for a brave face.” He muttered. Jaune finally let go of him. The compassionate father poked Nick right where his heart was.

“Enduring an ordeal for the sake of others is pretty brave in my book, but who said you couldn’t endure hardships and still be open to those who matter? Have you meant your friends and family? Besides your sister I don’t think there’s a soul close to you who isn’t an expert of seeing past masks. Val and Vee live with bleeding hearts and the rest have had to put up with me!” He chuckled, “Just like I’m sure you know when someone is upset.”

Nick had his doubts. “Mmmmm, starting to think I might not know them as well as I think. Val is...ugh, I don’t know she is. Learned about Vee’s traits recently for the first time, and Summer-”

“Okay, I see your point. But! Learning new things about them and knowing there’s things you don’t know, doesn’t erase what you did. Y’all are teens. There’s a bunch of things to sort through. At the end of the day though, you know them where it counts. Does that make sense?”

“....Yeah, I think I do.” Nick nodded, thanks dad. Seriously. It’s kinda scary how good at talking you are.”

“Comes with practice, specifically learning to listen and just watch closely. You may not realize it but you do this plenty. It’s a big reason people gravitate towards you. Well… people who are just money hungry anyways, but that’s more of a rich person policy than a Nick-ism. I digress! You better get going before your mother comes back and give you her own talk.” Jaune said. He opened up the door for Nick to leave. “From the way you’ve been acting I assume you’re heading to pay your respects?”

Nick nodded, “I’ll try not to be terribly long. Don’t tell mom unless she asks. You know how she gets?” Nick walked through the door, fist bumping his dad on the way out.

Jaune closed the door and went back to the kitchen. Somewhere above him he could hear giggles and a few squealing. “Hopefully nothing catches on fire up there.”

“You are starting a fire!” Blake yelled, trying to contain Yang’s excitement so the blonde’s hair would stop flaring up. “Use your words.” Blake laughed.

“Please…” Veronica groaned. This level of energy was higher than usual. “You’re more excited than me. It’s just a dinner date. Barely even that. More like a thank you gift I suppose.” That being said the blush coming to her face clearly sung a different tune. “Can we please talk about anything else? I mean mom, you’re here!”

Blake crossed her arms. “So I heard you got into a fight? Let’s talk about that.”

“Ummm, so this date, any suggestions on what to wear?” Veronica poorly deflected. Blake didn’t even respond and Yang was smart enough not to. There was no choice but to talk about it unfortunately. “Sigh….I know okay? Ma told me I should’ve eaten and I didn’t listen. I should’ve, or learn to walk away from-”

“I’ll stop you right there. Don’t think for a second I wasn’t okay with a person getting hit when they were clearing harassing you.” Blake took a seat on the bed. “Expecting you to balance instinct, emotions, and logic here in Atlas was never in the cards, because frankly we don’t know what that balance is. Not to say I assumed you’d fight here. All I wanted was for you to try and...take a break from the norm.”

“If that’s the case then school should’ve been removed right off the back. It doesn’t matter the location, people act the same. Different faces, same insufferability. Only difference is these bozos are rich and human.”

“You make it sound like you aren’t crushing on a rich human whose parents are allowing you to stay in their manor.” Yang deadpanned. “Not making you go to school would only leave you bored and gods know what you’ll do with too much time on your hands. Then again you managed to stir things up already by stealing a spot on the cheer team.”

Blake did a double take. That wasn’t mentioned earlier. “Cheer team? How did that happen?”

“A girl got cocky with me so I out performed her. Honestly I was more than a little surprised by it all. Holding pom-poms, doing flips on mats, and even the couch blowing the whistle, kinda forgot what those things were like until I was in the moment.”

“See? That’s a change from norm.”

“Pretty sure that counts as a return to form.” Veronica countered. “It’s whatever though. Just a temporary thing. Although I’ll admit that Eliza chick, Marigold’s kid, she’s pretty decent.”

Blake wasn’t expecting that easier. “Oh? Well that’s nice. Sounds like that could be not so temporary?”

“Eh, whatever happens, happens.” It was a nice thought. Veronica couldn’t deny that. “Any other thing you wanted to discuss with me? I’d like to lay down for a bit longer.”

“How’s it feel to discuss all this genetic stuff with Nick and Summer? Call it what you want, but telling them was no different from a therapy session if it made you feel better.” Blake stated.

Veronica frowned. “Not how I see it. I’m pretty indifferent for the most part I’d say. Haven’t thought deeply about it. Veronica plopped her head on the pillows and turned away.

Blake and Yang took their scrappy daughter’s hint to leave. Blake got off the bed and was more than fine revisiting the discussion later. Yang briefly bent over Veronica’s covered face and kissed her head.

“Muah! By the way, I’m pretty sure Nick would love to see you in his colors. No heels though. He’s a little touchy about his height.” Yang left after that, closing the door gently. Veronica could only lay there pondering the advice.

“Hmmmm that could work.”

xxxx

While the youth finally got some rest, Adults were hard at work trying to piece together all that’s happened. Ruby and Weiss scoped out the undisturbed frozen lake along with Winter, Nora, and Penny most importantly. Though there wasn’t much to go on. Just crushed rocks, claw marks from ferocious grimm, and a mix of blue and red blood that made Weiss particularly uncomfortable. Ruby sensed that uneasiness and quickly began rubbing her partner’s back.

“Your daughter’s fine.” Ruby reassured. “If what she said is accurate then she never actually lost control.”

“Yeah but the blue dyed snow before us means she just barely held on. That’s too close for comfort.” Weiss held her hands together gently. “It feels like things are getting worse.”

“Because you’re in the thick of it.” Nora spoke, projecting her voice to get their attention. The strong and prideful woman made her way over to them. “Every day you’re worried for her and wake up knowing your daughter is a few rooms away upset. A parent is only as happy as their saddest child, and seeing Summer so distant makes it difficult to see the good stuff. This situation is trying, yes, but Summer still fought back. Your daughter fought Shiva off and killed grimm to protect someone. Determination like that is a sign Summer isn’t done fighting by a long shot, so that means you shouldn’t mope. I mean she gets all that strength to defy assholes from you.”

Ruby gave a big smile. She couldn’t have said it better herself. “Yeah! Nora’s right. We’ll turn this around.”

“....Geez, you two ever stop being helpful?” Weiss said, smiling gently. She was happy to have them here. “Thank you, especially you Nora.”

“Considerate my way of apologizing if Valerie really upset Nick. I told her she needed to call him, especially after him having the decency to call me so I could keep her in the loop about this. Apparently she wasn’t very pleased that he was ill and didn’t mention it. She’s….a lot sometimes.”

“Hey, so were we. I’m sure she means well and I’m not oblivious to the fact Nick can be...a lot as well. I’m partly to blame. I enable some of his actions towards her from time to time. I think I’m projecting a bit. Maybe I should tell him to move on?” Weiss sighed. Perhaps she played matchmaker too much and misread things.

Nora could only chuckle. “Hehe, I wouldn’t. Believe me when I tell you Valerie doesn’t hate having Nick look her way. A little forwardness is the only way she’ll acknowledge problems she doesn’t want to deal with. I can’t say for certainty what those problems are but I don’t pin any of it Nick. Val has a way of wanting her cake and eating it too. She’s gotta learn hard ways that’s not how life goes. I just hope Nick finds it in himself to not hate her because of this.”

“Pfft, I don’t think hate truly exists in his vocabulary.” Weiss laughed. She could count on her hand how many times Nick truly despised a person. “He’ll be petty about it I’m sure, but that’ll go away. Space between them might be good. At the end of the day I at least want them to still be close. Val has a way of motivating him that I like. He actually has fun.”

“Yeah, my Little Thunderhead excels at moving people, that’s for sure. Her semblance would be pretty mediocre otherwise if she wasn’t.”

The three continued talking lightly until Penny eventually walked up with Winter. “Okay, so I’ve finished running some tests of the area and the deposit of Diamond Dust. I have….unique results.” Penny said, a bit baffled.

Ruby wasn’t a fan of that statement. “Ummm that doesn’t sound great coming from a person who reads books written in binary. What did you find?”

“This dust is less volatile than the samples in my lab, even though it’s been untouched for longer. By all means it should be more refined.”

“Well isn’t it a good thing that it isn’t?” Weiss asked. “We barely handle what we have.”

“True, but it’s strange. There’s a couple possibilities that may explain this. Summer may have used up some unintentionally, or maybe Shiva herself was syphoning it.”

Winter folded her arms, “Not a fan of that second option. Based on the story though, what if it wasn’t touched at all?”

“Panic attack.” Penny said immediately. “She hasn’t been here since the accident, right? It’s entirely plausible that Summer’s mind and body remembered the trauma. Repressed memories or outright fear and anxiety could be the basis for this entire event. I tried contacting Oscar if he’s noticed anything different in Summer’s behavior, but I can’t get in contact with him. The seas have been rather violent lately due to weather changes.”

“So what you're basically saying is we're as lost as usual?” Weiss said, falling backwards into the snow. “Juuuuuust great. I’m going to assume the pain attack option then. That’s something I can work on with her. If Shiva is by any chance stronger now then the only thing we can do is what we always do. Brace ourselves.”

Ruby looked down at Weiss. “And option one actually means we have less dust to deal with. That’s a plus!” She knew it was a small amount of positivity but every bit helped. Weiss smiled at her and sat up.

“Here’s hoping for option one as well I suppose. We should probably head back. This place creeps me out a bit.”

Ruby helped Weiss up and everyone began leaving. Penny kept staring at the data she collected and trying to call Oscar. Unfortunately the man wasn’t answering. Her displeased sigh was heard by Winter, who rubbed the girl’s back.

“Not to be insensitive, but your son and Qrow wouldn’t do anything too crazy out a sea would they?”

Winter laughed nervously. “Hehehe….I’m sorry.”

“That doesn’t inspire confidence!” Penny yelped. Now she was only going to think about them being stranded by the gods or in a storm. Hopefully she would hear from him soon. “I guess a deeper study will have to wait. Ruby, can I stay at your place with Whitley for a bit? I don’t wanna go home yet. Too lonely.

“Sure thing! Door is always open. Though I bet you’ll have a livelier time at the manor these days.”

Penny tried her best to act like that would be a good idea. “Tempting, but a certain blonde teenage girl wouldn’t like that much, considering her parents so desperately want my husband to be her therapist. Summer also sees me enough as is. Nick would be happy I was there.” She said in a happier tune.

“He’s not home if I know him well enough.” Weiss frowned. “Times like these, I’m sure he’ll visit the graveyards.”

Truly, her son was easy to read.

xxxx

Right now the boy in question walked through an alley of tombstones and snow, his and covered in pollen. Atlas’s central graveyard had become a place for Nick over the years. The wide space and solitude became a welcoming barrier that blocked out most strangers from approaching him. Even the paparazzi had enough tact to not disturb a person here. His feet carried him down multiple lanes towards an old tree barren of any leaves looming over a grave with no actual tombstone. Standing before it was Eliza, wearing a dark blue winter coat and deep in thought. He wasn’t expecting to see her today.

Nick kept approaching until he stood beside her silently. A cool breeze went by them as the air itself felt still. Eliza eventually shifted her gaze to him, completely aware he was there. She looked down at his dusty yellow hands before speaking. “Talking to your grandma again?”

“Yeah. She says I should eat more sandwiches. Afraid I’m a little too then.”

“Heh, always witty. Visited your gramps yet?”

Nick shook his head, “No that’s halfway across Atlas from here and further from my home. It’s the next stop. What about you? Didn’t expect you to be here today.”

“Haven’t been in awhile.” Eliza waved her hand to cause a brief gust that blew away the snow from the grave and several others. “It needed cleaning and I was in the area. So what brings you here specifically? You only visit here on anniversaries, holidays, and when you’re moody. Last time I checked this is a random day, soooo”

“Eh don’t worry about it. Everything is alright now. Just decompressing.”

“Fair enough.” Eliza put her hands in her pocket and went back to thinking, until she realized Nick was looking at her again. “Uhh can I help you?” She said a little confrontational.

Nick got a little defensive and spoke quickly. “No, just surprised you’re not pressing me to open up.”

“Why? Your business is your business unless you make it my business. Something you’ll do if your attitude negatively affects the preparation for the tournament.”

“Ouch...well if that’s the case then the favor I’m about to ask you shouldn’t refuse.”

That peaked her interest. Eliza actually turned around fully. “You’ve been asking a lot of favors of me lately.”

“I’ve asked like two favors, and you’re the one telling me to directly involve you if-”

Eliza covered his mouth, irritated by him being right. “I know what I said! Sigh… what’s up?”

Nick looked down at the hand on his mouth, getting Eliza to remove it. “You’re lucky I didn’t lick it.”

“You’re lucky I don’t beat you up on hollow ground.”

Nick smirked. “Oh, so you think you can finally take me?”

Eliza squinted at him as her face got a little red. Why the hell did he have to be like this sometimes!? “The next words you speak better be your favor, or I’m walking away.”

“Well I wouldn’t exactly call it a favor but if you’re training by the harbor tonight, I’d appreciate it if you swooped by the seventh dock. The one with the huge building they rarely put cargo in. Summer is going to be there blowing off some steam. I don’t think anything will go wrong but you know, if you got the time…?”

“Hmmm I guess that’s not unreasonable. Wait, how do you know I train by the harbor!?”

“Did you forget my cousin literally owns a ship? If I’m correct, one time he said his sail caught on fire when a random bolt of lightning came down one day.”

“......” Eliza put her hand back in her pocket and began walking. “You’re really annoying Nick.”

“I’ve done nothing! Also I’m not done talking! I actually do have a real favor I’ve been mulling over for about a day!” Eliza kept walking away from him. “Hey! Don’t just- Can you train me!?” He shouted, hoping to gain her interest again.

It worked wonderfully. Eliza stopped mid-step and pivoted around. “Excuse me?”

“Training, yeah uh there’s this thing Schnee’s do called the candle test. Helps with our glyphs. Long story short, I’m ass at it hehe. Summer has stuff going on and it’s not really clicking with my mom or aunt. Since your magic is sorta like what I have to do, I thought maybe-”

“We are in a contest against each other, Nicholas.” She said firmly. “You are my opponent! One of two people currently in my way from reaching the top. Why on Remnant would I help you?”

Nick’s eyes avoided contact with hers. He began to scratch the back of his head as if he’d been caught red handed in a lie. “Because… you value sportsmanship?” He looked at her to receive an unamused blank stare that was colder than the snow. “Uh, and also you helping me in any capacity will let you in on a proposition that you’d find very intriguing. But I’ll only tell you when we’re training.”

“Tsk, I would think a Schnee would know better how to do business negotiations. Why would I make a deal when I don’t know if I even care about it? You tell me now or not at all.”

“I can’t say it now! I gotta smooth out details.”

“Then I guess we’re done here.”

“Fine, then I guess you don’t want a shot at gold with a sure fire way of at least getting silver!” He boasted, catching Eliza off guard. Nick slicked his hair back and crossed his arms to intimate his uncle’s calm yet assertive demeanor. “Yeah that’s right. I’m saying I have an idea crazy enough to benefit you and I. Everyone wants gold of course. However, you got a little more riding on this, don’t you?”

Eliza remained silent. Nick began walking a little closer to refrain from speaking too loud. “Last year was your real debut to the public eye and it was pretty good one at that. Third place is nothing to snuff at in the singles bracket. However...trust me when I say I know third is the worst seat in the house. That’s where the pressure and stress is. One mistake and you're off the podium and that feels terrible when people finally start looking your way.”

Eliza began tapping her foot. He wasn’t wrong. Not by a long shot. Confident as she was, Eliza was aware of her only two options. Do better, or hit the same bar. Winning was the goal but no one was gonna give her shit for losing to the top two contests. Nick and Valerie have been dominating for about three years now, and here he was saying he can get her to second. “Get to the point.”

Nick unfolded his arms. Time to be gentle again. “I cannot get into specifics at this time, but if you wanna show up at the manor anytime this week to help me, we can talk. I can get you second at minimum in King of the Hill.

His eyes burned with eagerness. Eliza had so many questions but obviously he wouldn’t answer them. This plan clearly had to be in his favor to get first, which neither of them had earned before. However, Valerie was first. How did she fit into this? What was going through his head!? Eliza had to know what regardless if she’d actually be okay with it. Her eyes narrowed at him. “Tsk, I take back what I said. Guess you are a Schnee. I will see when I can come over and help. Now, any other obnoxious request before I get driven away from this conversation?”

“Well……” Nick could feel just how dangerous this situation was. “It’s quite a walk to the other cemetery from here….hehe.” Laughing was hard when someone’s nostrils were flaring at you in frustration. Getting closer might’ve been a terrible decision.

Eliza closed her eyes briefly, then turned around to walk away. She went a few steps before briefly stopping. “Knock the snow off your shoes before you step in.”

Nick lit up like a Christmas tree. “You’re the best!!!”

“Why did he get more votes than me!?” Eliza internally screamed.

xxxxx

The day seemed to drag on. It had taken some time for Weiss to return home with the company of her sister and Ruby. Nora had departed earlier to check in on her family. Penny had opted to head towards Ruby’s home before her. They would’ve gone together but Ruby did want to see her niece and Blake. Penny had yet to properly see her friends. Though she wanted to, she thought it best to hold off for now.

The trio walked into the house and were assaulted by the strong scent of what had to be Jaune’s amazing cooking. They could practically see the aroma of spices dance in the air. One spice in particular hit Ruby. It was subtle but sharp at the same time. The kind of spice that sent a zing through your nose and hit your tastebuds. A mouth watering smile spread on her face and her stomach growled.

“Mmmmmm” Ruby hummed, “Somebody brought spices with them from Menagerie.” She sang. Ruby and Weiss wasted no time heading to the kitchen. Inside was an apron-wearing knight stirring a pot of stew, and their favorite faunus in the whole wide world in an apron cutting vegetables.

Blake didn’t even need to turn around to know what giggling pair just entered the kitchen. She put the knife down all the same and turned around with her arms wide open. “Well-” she couldn’t even say her boastful introduction before her two cheecky smile teammates dove in for a hug. All three of them just became a choir of happy laughter as they embraced one another.

Weiss finally let her friend go to get a good look at her. “Look at you! Traveled all this way and you’re helping make dinner!? I don’t deserve you!”

“Well I saw Jaune breakout a pot and I figured he’d enjoy some help without fear of something burning.” Blake jabbed. Ruby immediately tucked her lips to stop herself from snickering at the diss.

Weiss’s jaw dropped. She still smiled however, crossing her arms. “Oh ha ha, I’ll have you know my cooking is leagues better than what you remember since last time you had it. I can cook amazing meals all by myself!”

“As long as it doesn’t involve a fryer.” Jaune added, walking over to kiss his wife’s cheek really quick.

Weiss’s face got a little flushed. “Grease is bothersome.” She mumbled. Blake could only chuckle at the remark while walking to the pot and dumping the vegetables inside. The smell of the stew intensified and reminded Weiss she is still very much the weakest in her friend group when cooking was involved. “How are you going to outdo me in my own home? Why’d you bring spices in the first place!?”

“Don’t question it!” Ruby shouted. Her body went on autopilot to grab the plates and cups for the dinner.

“Ruby, aren’t gonna make dinner at home?” The room said, thinking about Whitley.

Ruby then proceeded to grab one of Jaune’s tupperware containers. Apparently they were now feeding Whitley as well. Ruby knew they wouldn’t mind, so she felt no remorse when filling it. Her boldness knew no bonds.

“Ruby, how do you know they aren’t making enough food for the people in this house?”

“Because this household would crumble anytime Jaune did a mission and didn’t make enough food for weeks.”

“I can cook!!!!” Weiss yelled.

Jaune playfully rolled his eyes and patted Weiss’s back. “Ruby isn’t completely wrong. Anyways she can take as much as she wants. Nick and Veronica have a dinner date tonight so they won’t be joining us for dinner. Then I don’t if Summer-”

“Nick and Veronica have a date!?” Weiss and Ruby shouted.

“Oh yeah… that happened while you left.” Jaune tried to reach for the ladle for the stew but Weiss swatted his hand before turning his head back to her. Fortunately Blake swooped in to continue stirring. “Yeah so they’re going on a date tonight. I don’t know details.”

Weiss turned to Blake who shrugged. “I didn’t press Veronica too much about it. Yang should be upstairs with her trying on dresses.

“Behold! A beautiful sunflower in the snow!” Yang cried out from outside the kitchen unexpectedly.

“Or I guess she’s downstairs now.” Blake turned off the burner on the stove and moved the pot before following her friends out to the main hall. Outside was Yang standing proudly with her hands on her hips and staring up the stairs proudly. Jaune and Weiss’s eyes went wide while Winter seemed….impressed? As much as she could be. Her feelings towards Veronica in general were mixed. The girl was definitely beautiful though. That was just a fact.

Blake looked up to see her daughter all dressed up at the top of the steps. She wore a white, thin strapped dress that had a light blue sash around her waist. The skirt portion went down to about knee level and the flats she wore were also white. The bottom of the skirt brought more color in by being an intense light blue that faded to white half way up; lace snowflakes were intricately etched on to that portion to break the color up. Gloves that went just passed her elbows followed a similar scheme but started white at the hands before transitioning to blue. To top it all off, a pretty little light blue ribbon formed a bow on top of her head. It was that accessory that made Blake notice that not only wet her ears gone from sight, but so was her tail.

Veronica’s face was stricken with a decent shade of red. Her feet shuffling in place a little as she rubbed her left arm. “So….ummm thoughts?” She said anxiously. “This is just one of several ideas so no need to hold back.”

“Several? What, did you make these in a couple hours?” Winter asked.

“No. I’ve been working on a Fire and Ice collection recently. This dress in particular was already put together for the most part. Although the snowflakes at the bottom was a last minute decision I made half an hour ago.” Veronica swayed to make the skirt flow side to side. “Normally I’d say adding flames or snowflakes is a bit heavy handed since the colors of the outfit already speak fire and ice, but I don’t know. Felt appropriate. Especially since the white lace is on the blue. I even have them on the upper rim of the gloves. Made sleeve versions too.” Veronica inspected the stitching to make sure it was okay. “Hmm not my best work, but I kinda like it.”

“I kinda love it!” Yang proudly said. “Oh it takes me back to the Beacon dance a little. Back then another Schnee was outdone by a Xiao Long wearing white.”

“Ha, no! Your dress didn’t even look done!” Weiss shot back, refusing to take such slander. “This dress is ten times better than what you wore.”

Ruby nodded. “Yeah sis, your dress was pretty plain. Didn’t even have a bow.”

“I couldn’t find one!” Yang defended.

Judging by the banter, Veronica was getting positive vibes from the dress. She looked at Winter since the woman was there. Surprisingly, a thumbs up was given. “Well that was more positive than I expected from her.” Veronica thought. The only person who remained silent was Blake. Veronica turned to see her mother assessing what her daughter had on. The silence she gave made Veronica a little concerned. “What’s up mom? Not a fan of how thin the straps are? It’s not a low cut anywhere.”

“No, all that is fine. I just have to ask, why-” before Blake finished, the front door opened once again with Nick coming through it this time. Everyone froze in place by his sudden entrance. Including him!

“Uhhh why is everyone just standing in the front of the house?” Nick questioned. It was only when he looked up the left staircase did he get his answer. “Oh, that’s why. You look...wow.” He said, rather clumsily. “I didn’t think you’d get ready three hours ahead of schedule. I still gotta wash up from the grav- I mean my walk. Yeah, walk, around town. With no real location stopped at.” He had no idea why he kept saying things. The deadpanned look on Winter and Weiss’s face clearly showed they knew where he was.

Weiss gave a reassuring smile and poked his forehead. “No need to lie, especially so poorly. If talking to them brought you some form of clarity then by all means have at it.”

“Yeah it’s not my business either.” Winter added, ruffling his hair.

Veronica wasn’t exactly sure what they were discussing, but it looked like things were going well. Nick even looked like he was in a better mood then when he left. His eyes went back to Veronica and made her fidget a little. The gaze he gave her was focused, deliberate even.She didn’t know how to feel about it until Nick began to look a tad displeased. “I-Is something wrong?” Veronica asked hesitantly.

“Not wrong, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cover your ears. Tail yeah, since it can get in the way a bit, but why the bow?” He asked, pointing at it from afar. Everyone looked towards her for an answer, especially Blake. Nick had beaten her to the question.

Veronica looked down at her feet for a moment before looking at her family, crush, others. She never really knew what to call Weiss or her siblings. “Well normally I wouldn’t cover them, but while you were gone I kept thinking about this date…and how I wanted it to be a simple night out.” Heat began to rush to her cheeks. “So you know, people will stare and judge less if I’m like this. Not that their opinions matter, but I’d like to keep things peaceful as much as possible tonight. That’s all.” She looked at Blake who was looking right back at her. The answer didn’t seem to upset or surprise the mother. Veronica played with her a bit. “Is...that okay?”

“Hmm? You’re asking permission? It caught me off guard seeing it. Whether it be for aesthetic or personal reasons, I won’t dictate how you wanna design your clothes as long as it’s appropriate. After all, ribbons and I have a history. Couldn’t judge you if I wanted.”

That was a relief to hear. Veronica had completely forgotten her mother wasn’t a stranger to trying to blend in. “Well if that’s settled-”

“Hold on.” Nick softly said, his calm footsteps walking up the stairs to meet her. Everyone fell speechless as they watched him. Veronica for some reason felt as if the mood had changed. The room was quieter, air completely still. The face of the boy in front of her began to look more earnest than it has ever been as it got closer, stifling her breath. Nick extended his hand out slowly till his fingers clasped a corner of the bow, then unraveled it.

The ribbon flowed slowly into his palm and then was brought down towards Veronica’s. “If a calm night means you have to hide, then is it really a calm worth having? Like you said, those people don’t matter. Besides, I like your ears.”

Burst, Veronica felt like her heart could’ve burst. The blush on her cheeks deepened greatly and her eyes went wide from the shocking words. She had barely remembered to breathe. If she paid attention to the audience below then she would’ve been embarrassed by the grins that went ear to ear but no. Veronica only noticed Nick and his gentle smile that matched his words. Her mind finally caught up with itself and Veronica grasped the ribbon ever so slowly.

“O-Okay…” she said without thinking. Anybody else may have gotten more of a debate on it. Not him though. Not after words like those. “I’ll...make a few adjustments then.” She said, flattered and flustered as she walked back to her room without any more words.

“Take your time. You still have about three hours like I said, plus I gotta wash up.” He reminded her, not realizing just how sweet his words were. He turned back around to see smug faces and contained laughter. “What?”

“Nick…” Winter said, smiling with her hands on her hips. “And you wonder why girls flock to you obsessively. You’re too much.”

“I’ll say.” Blake said, admiring the boy. “But you know what? There’s something perfect about that. Nicholas, thank you.”

He wasn’t entirely sure what he did but he got embarrassed all the same, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. At least things finally felt relaxed in this house. “Umm you’re welcome?”

With teasing done and the mood lightened, everyone went back to doing their respective things. Jaune and Blake went back to prepping food. Weiss went with Ruby to set tables and properly catch up, while Yang decided to keep Winter company since both her son and Qrow were off adventuring. The chatter filled the hallways and even reached upstairs to not only Veronica, but Summer, who finally managed to fall asleep peacefully. Even Nick found a bit of proper rest in the bath. The soothing warm water filled with epsom salt was more than enough to make him doze off. Time steadily went forward and the adults began winding down. However, the kids were just getting ready for the night.

xxxxx

Dusk finally came. Winter leaned up against the main door waiting until she saw Nick coming walking down the stairs looking dashing. His crisp white suit, ice blue tie and handkerchief were perfectly in place along with his slick back hair.

“Hey Whitley jr.”

He groaned, “Please don’t. This is why I do nothing with my hair. One minute I look like dad, then the next I’m uncle.”

“Grow it out more then.” Winter suggested.

He shook his head. “That’s a slippery slope. Too long and I’ll be compared to you, mom, and sis. I guess my face is just too great.”

“Pfft, you just know you can’t compete with all this.” Winter sassed, turning her head to sway her hair. Nick would have objected if she wasn’t right.

“Whatever hehe. Anyways, everybody still here?”

“No, Ruby eventually headed home, but everyone else is strung about. I’m heading out myself but I figured I could drop you and Veronica off for your date.”

Nick gave her aunt a huge smile. “Awww, auntie!”

“Oh hush, don’t make it a big deal. It’s convenient, that’s all.”

“Well I appreciate it nonetheless. Veronica will too.”

Winter mumbled,“She better show it by not getting you or sister into trouble.”

“I heard that.” Veronica called from up the staircase. Winter and Nick looked in that direction to see her walking down. Nick wasn’t prepared.

Veronica had switched the gloves out for detachable sleeves that still exposed her shoulders. They also followed the same white to blue pattern. What really changed was she used the ribbon to make a high ponytail and now dawning jewelry. A pearl white necklace rested around her neck and complemented the pearl earrings she wore. Slowly she approached Nick with her hands holding each other in front of her. Veronica’s face was still a healthy shade of red. This close, Nick couldn’t help but smell of peach nectar. An interesting and oddly refreshing choice for perfume.

“Well...ummm...you weren’t kidding when you said you would out dress me.” Nick said, captivated. “I’d say you’re one billion, easily.”

Veronica chuckled nervously. “Hehe,th...thanks. I wouldn’t go that far, but I appreciate it.” Looking at him was harder than usual. Men’s dress shoes had a bit of heel, so Nick actually was a bit taller then her now since she chose flats. It could only be by an inch or two but it made a hell of a difference to her. “I had a little help near the end. These are actually your sister’s pearls.”

“Really? Oh, that’s right! I think the only reason she got them was so this other rude girl couldn’t. I don’t remember the specifics.”

“Wow. You two are….extremely petty at times.” Veronica said. Yeah pettiness was nothing new to her, but she’d never bought something to spite someone else. That’s the lifestyle in Atlas she supposed. “Anyways, if you’re ready to go then I am too. I’d really like to avoid-”

Click! The sound of a camera cut her off. The two teens looked back to see their parents all taking photos. Trying to stop them would be impossible. The only thing they could do is quietly wait for the clicking to stop, which was thankfully over in seconds.

“Gee I didn’t realize I lived with paparazzi.” Nick quipped. Another flash came from up above the second floor. Summer and her bed head leaned against the railing. “Summer!? You too!?”

“I came down to eat and saw we were embarrassing you. How could I not?” She took one more photo and then made her way down to the kitchen. “Have fun. I’m gonna eat and go right back to bed.”

Nick knew she was lying of course. That was the real reason she came down now, to announce she’d be sleeping in her room so nobody would disturb her. Summer, never missing an opening, also collected everything she needed from upstairs without anyone noticing. It was scary how far she’d plan ahead sometimes.

Winter finally decided to open the front door and head out. “Let’s move people. Rich or not, it’s rude to be late for reservations.”

“So strict. Almost think that you’re about to go drill instructor on me.” Veronica jokes, walking out the door.

“Don’t think I won’t make you drop and give me twenty just because you’re in a dress.” Winter shot back, closing the door as Nick walked out.

“The sad thing is she isn’t kidding…” Weiss nervously said. “That’s gonna be a long car ride.”

Summer came out of the kitchen with a bowl of stew and an evil look in her eye. “Why are there less left overs than usual? Who had seconds?”

“Ruby took some for Whitley. As well as had seconds…”

Summer squinted as if Ruby was there to actually receive the grumpy look before putts spoonful in her mouth and walking back upstairs.

“Ma’am, the table. Not your room.” Weiss said, using her mom voice.

Summer did a heel turn to the dining room. “Who made this stew!?” She said annoyed. Jaune and Blake both raised their hands. “It’s fantastic!” Was all she said as she continued walking.

Blake and Yang looked at each other confused before looking at their friends.

“Hangry.” Was all Jaune said.

“Ah…” the couple said together.

The moment Summer was out of sight from everyone she put the bowl down and searched around the living room quickly until she found her guitar case. Quickly, she grabbed it and opened a window towards the side of the estate and tossed it on a set of glyphs that hopefully propelled it right into her open room window. She then ran back to the dining room to sit down and eat comfortably.

“Phew! That was the last thing. And now I wait.” She took another bite of the stew happily. Nothing tastes better than an escape plan coming together.

#rwby #rwby au #rwby twin snowflakes #jaune arc #ruby rose #weiss schnee #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #nora valkyrie #nicholas schnee #summer schnee #val valkyrie #winter schnee #penny polendina #veronica belladonna #rwby whiteknight

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gambitimagines · 3 years

Text

J’tadore Vous Part 3

Sorry this isn’t as soon as I/you would’ve liked. Insomnia weeks again! Also, I figure everyone understands I’m human and need breaks to recharge, have other responsibilities and can’t write fics all day, as fun as that would be. Thanks!

The legend is my own imagining based off Remy’s less-than-flattering nickname for the purpose of the story.

Warnings: Jack the Ripper references, but nothing graphic. Mentions of women being accosted and other stuff, but nothing too horrid. If men locking car doors triggers you, skip where the asterisks are.

-------

You we’re up late researching Remy, but not so late you couldn’t get up the next morning. You headed to the museum to look into a lead. The legend of Le Diablo Blanc-the white devil. (Not to be confused with Daredevil.)

Legend had it that a mysterious figure showed up around New Orleans around the 1900s, the same time as a man was doing some horrific “Jack-the-Ripper” inspired killings, but a bit less dark. Young women were accosted, preyed upon and several were killed, or wounded if they managed to somehow get away. Then, one day, mentions of a savior started spreading like wildfire through the town. He would pull away damsels in distress, but they never saw his face. He wore a black mask to cover his features, but all you could see were glowing red eyes and white skin, so the papers branded him Le Diablo Blanc. Stories went around of him throwing playing cards that exploded at the murderer, but he didn’t catch him for about a year. Until 1915. The killer was dropped off at the local police station tied up with some rope, looking worse for wear, and the queen of hearts card stuffed into a large gash in his arm.

After that, there were a few stories in surrounding southern states about the hero rescuing people, but they completely stopped in 1918. The hero had hung up his mask for a quieter life.

You weren’t positive that he and Remy were one in the same, but it was worth looking into. Then there was the picture. You planned to take it to your friend at Kensworth’s Copies to be blown up for a better look.

At the museum, you looked through the historical books and files for anything on Le Diablo Blanc or Remy LeBeau. Despite being a museum of _Natural_ History, the place had many books, files, CD’s, and other media on general history about the nation and the world. You also planned on going to the library, because they might have something there. Newspaper articles or something. You didn’t know how much fame Remy had garnered over the years, if any, but billionaires never seemed to stay out of the limelight.

“You’re here? On a weekend?” Jenny entered the office looking exhausted. Her hair was a mess and she looked frazzled. What the actual frigging heck?

“Personal project,” You murmured, barely looking up from the many open books in front of you, “If I’m in the way, I can step out for a bit, but this is important.”

“No, no.” Jenny waved her hands, “I’m just a corporate slave. There’s a meeting with the higher ups at freaking nine-am and I was instructed to come, take some notes and be amicable to that snake, Misses Winters.”

Mrs. Winters was a 70-something year old woman who was the head of the museum. You crossed her, you were fired. She was known as cold-hearted and ruthless. Not a warm person.

“How did yesterday go with the mutie?”

“I told you not to use that word around me. It went fine.” You looked up a moment. Jenny really did look like garbage today. “Why do you look so...out of sorts?”

“Didn’t sleep good. Sister and her five-month old twins needed a place to stay at two this morning. She got into another argument with her husband.” Jenny drank her coffee, “I’m gonna go freshen up. Have fun on your _day off_. See you _Monday_.” She was venomous, but you couldn’t blame her. Everyone needed their sleep.

In moments, you forgot her. Somewhere between ancient Mesopotamia and the California gold rush, you found more stories of a dashing red-eyed savior sprinkled throughout history. You went back further in history, jumping around books.

1842-Colombu’s travels include a snippet about a red-eyed man saving one of his ships from thieves before leaving port by somehow blowing up several barrels.

1924-Remy’s picture is clearly snapped in a crowd at the opening of one of the first Ford Automotive companies.

1912-The Queen of England is saved by a man only known as LeBeau. No other description is given.

1202 A.D- The Mayans have a symbol carved into a wall of a hand seemingly on fire. One of their villages had a rockslide the week before, but the casualties hadn’t been that bad.

1995-Remy Picard gets his picture in the New York Chronicle for making 500 billion and donating some of his money to a new children’s hospital.

You sit back in your chair a moment. Taking it all in. Was it a trick? Coincidence? You needed to know more. You got your bag and headed to the library.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

You went through the history section at the New York City library, getting out book after book again. It took over two hours, but you’d made out a hypothesis.

Remy was possibly born around the time Egypt reigned, if not earlier. He had to survive because of his mutantcy, you knew that much. He’d obviously amassed billions, keeping his profile low key over the recent years, for the most part. Hide in plain sight and you wouldn’t get caught. As far as the public knew, he was a rich mutant, nothing more. He’d hung up his hero status for reasons unknown, but he wasn’t as “young” as the history book claimed.

The figment, the savior, the man with the seductive, beautiful red eyes wasn’t a myth shrouded in stories and half-truths. He was real. And he wasn’t hundreds of years old. He was _thousands_ of years old!

The book you were looking at in the library shut loudly, making you jump. Remy was beside you.

“So, you found out my secret, after all, Cherie. You come with me. We need to talk.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Remy drove the two of you to an empty parking lot away from the city. You were suddenly terrified. What did he do to people that found out his secret? Kill them?

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

Your anxiety wasn’t helped when you heard the doors lock with a click.

“Wh-wh-what are you planning on?” you stuttered.

“Easy, (Y/N). I just want to talk and don’t want you storming out on me. We’re gonna have a talk and I’m going to explain everything.”

“Okay,” You couldn’t stop shaking. You wished you’d bought pepper spray, but your fears were calmed a little as he placed his large hands over yours.

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

“I’m not going to hurt you. I’d never think of hurting you, please don’t be so scared of me,” Remy insisted, his eyes soulful and pleading. He really seemed to mean it.

You just nodded.

“I was born in the time of Pharoh when Egypt was the ruling power. A scholar took me under his wing and raised me, but was killed in battle. I was trained to fight, but because of my eyes and powers, the Pharoh Rama-Tut tried to have me assassinated, thinking I’d take over. I didn’t have any desire for prestige or kingship, I just wanted to live my life out and die as normal, but we don’t always get what we want. That’s the secondary part of my mutation; I live a long time. Maybe forever, I don’t know. I do know that I’ve forced myself into isolation and it’s getting boring. I gave you that picture on purpose, hoping you’d be curious enough to find out my secret. You’re cute and sweet. I meant it when I said I wanted to get to know you, and I want you to know me as well. No secrets. But there’s something else, and I don’t want you to get angry,”

“Oh, what? My manager is in the trunk because you’re out to stop bigotry?” You scoffed. You’d gradually stopped shaking, feeling better. Safer with him.

“I tried to save people, but I couldn’t save everyone. Women and children have died in my arms. Men hunted me down for what I was, even when I was trying to do the right thing. The best thing. To help and save others. I’ve made mistakes and people got hurt, people died. I just don’t want that to make you see me differently,” Remy said, “Someone else did once. Renay LeFluer. She never forgave me.”

“I’m not her, Remy.” You tentatively touched his shoulder, “I get it. You can’t save everyone. No one can, not even superheroes. You can trust me too.”

Silence.

“Thank you, (Y/N). I’m glad we understand each other but are we on the same page? Would you like to go out with me?” Remy asked.

“I’d love that, Remy. Now?”

“Tomorrow night,” Remy said, “You’ve had a long morning and it’s only Saturday. The place I have in mind is upscale, so you have to look your best.-Not that you aren’t cute now.” He brushed some hair out of your face.

“I’ll look forward to it,” You smiled.

Remy took you back to your car. You had many questions but didn’t want to bombard him all at once. That could wait until you saw him again.

TO BE CONTINUED

#gambit x reader #remy lebeau x reader #AU fic #Alternate Universe fic #story imagine #MCU #X-Men imagine #MCU imagine #thousands of years old AU #romantic #timeless

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darlingimawitch · 3 years

Text

hello! merry Christmas to those who celebrate it <3 this is my secret santa gift for @assassinatingtearribly !! i hope you like it❤

also linked to my ao3

best birthday yet.

Karma woke up to the empty feeling beside him as he roamed around for his human pillow. He cracked an eye open as he aimlessly tried to search for a certain someone that was supposed to be in bed with him. He was dissapointed to find it empty. The red head slowly sat up after that, rubbing his eyes before registering the bright light that had entered their room from the open window.

The bedroom door was slightly open, letting the fresh aroma of pancakes fill the air almost instantly. His stomach growled immediately, waking his sleepy body up.

With a grunt, he shoved the covers away and trudged out of their shared bedroom with a huff. Sure, he was used to early mornings for work but it was a holiday today and he wanted to spend it cuddled up with his soulmate for the rest of the day.

Though the thought of pancakes wasn't really a bad idea.

But still. Cuddles. Why can't he get that?

His footsteps must've been loud enough for the other occupant of their apartment to turn their head from the stove, still cooking up those delicious pancakes he couldn't want to get his hands on.

That's not the only thing he can't wait to get his hands on though.

"It's 8 am, why are you up?" Karma groaned, wrapping his arms around the shorter man, his chin resting on his head as if it always belonged there.

"Can't I do something special for today?" Nagisa said, completely unbothered by his lover that was draping his body over his own. "It's not everyday you turn 25, honey."

"Mhm and it's not everyday I have the day off. Let's just spend the day in bed?"

Nagisa scoffed. "And let my hard work go to waste? No way."

"But it's my birthday," Karma whined, hugging his love tighter," lemme do what I want."

"After we eat." Nagisa flipped the piece of pancake before turning his head around. Karma lifted his chin off of him, looking into his eyes with a small smile. Nagisa pecked him on the lips unexpectedly though it wasn't really a surprise for Karma. He loved it when his boyfriend was spontaneous in showing affection towards him. He was lucky to be the one to receive it in the first place.

"Fine, but nothing but cuddles after we eat."

"It's Christmas and your birthday and you want to spend it cuddling? Where's the adventurous Karma I knew in high school?"

Karma hid his face in Nagisa's neck. "He grew up and wants to spend it with his boyfriend."

"Loser." he chuckled.

"Yeah but your loser though." the devil incarnate pecked the shorter man's neck. "Fine, you win. But we're watching Home Alone for the rest of the day, alright?"

Nagisa chuckled. "Of course you'd pick that movie. Alright, sounds like a plan."

Karma ended up eating half of the pancakes, stuffing them in his mouth immediately after the bluenette set them up on the table. Nagisa only shook his head in response, taking a seat in front of him and eating his own portion. Silence filled the air but somehow he was still filled with warmth. Somehow he still felt comfortable and happy and he wouldn't want to be anywhere else except for right here.

A domestic life with Nagisa wasn't what Karma had in mind back when he was still a teenager. Though if you asked him now, he couldn't really imagine life without him. Seeing his face in the morning, walking in on him singing in the shower, pecking his lips right before they part ways for their respective jobs — it felt like a routine he can never get tired off.

The young couple found themselves on the couch after breakfast, the red head acting as a body pillow for the bluenette cuddled next to him. A bowl of popcorn was conquered by the birthday boy but he'd still feed his lover some anyways. They were 3 movies in now, two being of Karma's choice and the current one of Nagisa's. It was a classic rom com, one he's seen over a billion times before. He doesn't mind it though. Cuddled up with the love of his life, what can get better than that?

Although romantic comedies weren't his forte, he couldn't help but pay attention to this one as he munched on his snack. Watching the protagonist declare her love for the boy of her dreams reminded him of when he first confessed to the man settled by his side, up on the hill where they spent their best times together. When the autumn leaves fell down her hair as she embraced the main lead in a bone crushing hug, it reminded him of himself and Nagisa with the man's head on his lap, his fingers running through his blue locks as they sat underneath the tree located at the once abandoned assassination classroom.

As he watched them kiss, it reminded him of his first kiss with Nagisa which sort of happened out of a spur moment but he wouldn't want it any other way. Even if it did happen when Nagisa fell on him when he stayed over in his childhood home and kissed him without even planning to that night. Even if he was a flustered mess, Nagisa only giggled and kissed him again, this time fully aware of what's happening as he kissed him back.

And when he watched the movie reaching its peak and the couple were wedded, he couldn't help but feel a sense of want by seeing that.

"What's on your mind?" Nagisa's voice penetrated his wandering mind.

"Nothing." he quickly answered.

Nagisa rolled his eyes. "I've known you for ten years, Karma. I think I'd know when something's on your mind."

"Yeah? Well what if I was criticizing her wedding dress?"

"You barely care what you put on for work, babe."

"That's not true." he replied stubbornly.

"You get ready for work while you're still half asleep and your suits are all the same."

"I'm making a fashion statement."

"You don't know a thing about fashion." Nagisa turned his body fully towards Karma now, his chin resting on his chest as he peered up his golden eyes.

Karma grunted, knowing he couldn't resist those big blue eyes as he gazed upon the man that tugged on his heartstrings. Nagisa smiled knowingly, already knowing he won the game between them.

"Promise you won't laugh?"

"I promise."

"Do you...want that?" Karma said, his head nodding off to the screen.

"You've got to be more specific." the shorter man replied softly. Karma grunted and Nagisa decided to take pity on the man as his eyes followed his lover's gaze towards the TV and spoke again. "Do I want what? A new TV?"

"A marriage."

The bluenette stilled in his spot and Karma could feel his body tensing for just a second before relaxing in his arms again.

"I'd be lying if I said I haven't thought about it." Nagisa spoke softly.

"Did you think of having one with me?"

Nagisa looked at him like he's grown another head. "Who else would I think of having it with?" he shook his head slightly, shifting his position so he was now straddling his lovers lap. "You do know I'm in love with you right?"

"I mean, I thought you were with me for my looks and my money — ow!" he was cut off when Nagisa pinched his right ear.

"I'm being serious here, baka." he huffed, though a trace of his smile was still present.

Karma pursed his lips as his arms found their way around the bluenette's waist, pulling him closer so that they were chest to chest. "I do know you love me. And I love you too."

Nagisa smiled softly as the red head continued. "But do you want to be with me forever, though? Marriage is like — you're basically bound to that one person forever. You'd be bound to me forever."

Nagisa furrowed his eyebrows at that. "You make it seem like that's a bad thing."

The young bureaucrat bit his lip, a habit he picked up years ago. "You won't have an out."

"So?" he replied, his head now resting on Karma's forehead. "We're in this together, aren't we? Through thick and thin, that's what we told ourselves years ago, remember?"

He does. He still remembers their last year of high school where he knew this was when they would need to part ways to pursue their respective courses in college. He knew he'd be moving to another city, far away from his boyfriend if he wanted to chase his dream. And he knew Nagisa understood all of that and he was always encouraging him to go. He never once held him back.

He remembered tears were shed that night before catching his train. He remembered denying he was crying in the first place when Nagisa pointed it out. He remembered the long awaited goodbye hug he dreaded having because he didn't want it to be the last hug from him he'll ever receive.

"You better do a good job or I'm kicking your ass if you don't." Nagisa said, chucking through his glassy eyes.

Karma couldn't help but smile. "Kick my ass? Nagi, I'd love to see you try."

"Hey," the bluenette said, his arms hugging tightly around the taller man's torso. "Through thick and thin, I'll always be here for you."

"Through thick and thin, Nagi. I'm always here for you too."

"Don't be a stranger, okay?"

Translation : Don't forget me.

"I couldn't if I tried." Karma replied as he pecked the top of his head. "You're too important to me."

You're always important to me.

His golden hues caught sight of his piercing blue ones again, his soft breath fanning over his face as they were centimeters apart. He couldn't help but smile as warmth overwhelmed him, the presence of the man before him making his heart leap uncontrollably. He's never felt like this about anyone before and he sure as hell doesn't want this feeling to ever go away.

"Marry me."

Nagisa chuckled in response. "I thought you'd be more of a romantic when it comes to proposing."

"Screw romance. I wanna marry you, Nagi." he said, his words toning down to a murmur but to Nagisa he could hear everything so clearly. "I want to do this every day, do nothing and everything with you and never leave your side. I want to wake up to you and think ' wow this is what forever looks like'. God, I sound like such a sap." he heard the bluenette chuckle. " I can't even be mad at you for that because you're you."

"You make it impossible to not love you, you know that?" Karma said, his eyes never leaving his lover's. "Marry me, Nagisa."

The blue eyed man shook his head with a smile as he pulled his face away only to descend back to capture his boyfriend's lips with his own. Karma kissed him back just as eagerly, holding onto the shorter man's hips to steady himself as he continued to straddle his lap. Nagisa tilted his head to the side, deepening the kiss with his hands tugging his messy mane of red hair, which made the man beneath him let out a small whimper.

Sometimes he hated the fact how good of a kisser his boyfriend was. It was unfair. It should be illegal that he had the ability to turn his knees into jelly just like that.

Eventually, oxygen was needed and they pulled away slowly as if to savor the moment. His eyes fluttered open and he was yet again met with those beautiful bluebell eyes that never fail to remind him he had someone as beautiful as him to love.

"Yes." Nagisa pecked his nose," Yes, I will marry you."

He couldn't help but grin from ear to ear, his arms immediately swooping the man of his dreams into a bear crushing hug. Kisses were peppered all over his face before he captured his now fiance's lips with his own once more.

Out of all the birthdays he's had, this one wins it all.

#assclasssecretsanta2020 #ansatsu kyoushitsu #assasination classroom #karmagisa #akabane karma #nagisa shiota #nagisa x karma

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holylulusworld · 4 years

Text

A man out of time

Summary: Steve wakes from the ice only to find everything he knew is gone. Can you help him?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: angst, Steve being a man out of time, comforting, sadness

Lost. That’s how Steve feels when he steps out of the Shield headquarter. He can punch as many punching bags or walls as he wants to, but his life is gone.

Peggy is gone. Bucky is gone. His whole world just gone in the blink of an eye.

Well, at least to Steve. One moment he was on the plane, talking to Peggy and the next moment he wakes to a world which isn’t his anymore.

People tried to lie to him. Tried to pretend he did not get ripped out of his time but here he is. Standing in the middle of an exhibition of his life.

“Oh, do you like Captain America too?” A soft voice rips Steve out of his daydreams. He’s hiding behind a trench-coat, thick sunglasses, and a base cap. “I heard he’s alive. Can you believe this?”

“No.” Steve chokes out. He wants to leave but then you say something he never heard someone say to him before.

“That’s awful. He sacrificed his life to save the world and now he has to live in a world which isn’t his any longer. I am afraid he’s terrified. Imagine coming from the ’40s and being confronted with things that are normal to us. I…I wish we could help him…”

“You would help him?” Steve gives you as soft smile as you point toward a picture of Bucky and him.

“He lost his friends, his world and I bet he had a girl at home waiting for him. Such a tragedy. Don’t you think? He deserves better than this.” A single tear slips down your cheek and Steve captures it with his thumb.

“Don’t cry. A pretty dame as you should never cry.” Giggling at his odd words you give him a shy smile. “This world, it’s strange to me.”

“Same, Mister. Hey, uh—this might be strange to you but if you ever need someone to talk to…here.” Handing Steve your business card you shrug. “Don’t worry, it’s free for you.”

“Grief counselor?” Steve reads your card.

“I…I lost someone a few years ago. No one was able to help me and I was close to…” Sniffling you squeeze Steve’s hand.

“Let’s say I wanted to give up. I met this woman, at the hospital and she was the only one understanding me as she lost her husband too.”

“I am sorry to heart, ma’am. I…I’ll keep it in mind.” Steve stammers. “I am afraid I don’t have what people call a mobile phone.”

“Oh—that’s no problem, Sir. You can send me a letter or come to my office. Well, it’s rather a room in my house but if you ever need help, come by. My door is always open.”

“Thank you…” Watching you walk away Steve tugs the card into his wallet. He won’t take your offer but it’s a nice reminder that there are still kind people out there.

Walking down the street Steve tries to get used to the noises, the people rushing by and the shopping windows stuffed full of things no one will ever need.

He’s taking a shortcut, at least Steve thought so as he gets lost in the middle of Brooklyn, his home, the place he should know by heart but there is nothing left matching his memory.

Before he gets lost completely, he stopped at a café, the waitress is nice, even asks him for an autograph and then she’s gone, not sparing him a second glance.

Steve gets his sketch block out to draw you. He still remembers your face, the way you smiled at him, and the sadness hidden behind your beautiful y/e/c eyes.

For a moment he just draws your eyes, tries to capture your beauty but surrounded by too many people, noises, and the constant ringing of phones he can’t concentrate.

He gives up, pays for the pie he never tried, and silently walks toward the train.

Steve tries not to make eye contact with anyone. He learned fast that people nowadays believe you try to provoke them or have something bad in mind if you look too long at a person.

Nervously he sits on his place, glances out of the dirty windows as he tries to remember better times. He’s nervously rubbing his thumb into his hand, close to letting out a sigh as he remembers your face again.

Alone again. He should be glad that he’s finally alone at the apartment Shield offered to him but now the deafening silence makes him go crazy.

Sitting on his desk he glances at the picture he tried to draw of you. He still got your card hidden safe in his wallet, so he does the only thing coming to his mind. Steve grabs his sketching block to find you…

“Stay safe. Promise me to call if you need help.” Helping your last client to get into her nephews’ car you give her a soft smile. “I know it’s hard to lose a child, but do not give up. I…I know the feeling of hopelessness too well.”

“Thank you. I promise to pay you next time.” Your client whispers but you shush her. “How about you bake me one of your famous pies and we are even.”

Steve hides behind a tree, watching you wave at your client. A soft smile tugs at the corners of his mouth as you drop your keys, cursing.

“Hi.” He steps closer, his sketch block still in his hands Steve gives you a hopeful smile. “You said if I ever need someone to talk to…” Unsure if you will let him months later Steve looks at you. “I can go…”

“No. Come in. This was my last client and I got more pie in my fridge than a bakery. If you want to, we can talk, or we can just sit in my backyard and enjoy the sun.” Steve nods eagerly, following you into your house.

“I like your house. It’s…” Steve smiles as you close the door behind him.

“Old-fashioned?” Nodding Steve follows you into the kitchen, admiring your 40’s wallpaper. “My mom had a thing for your time, Captain Rogers.”

“You knew, didn’t you?” Steve laughs as you give him a curt nod. “Why didn’t you say a thing?”

“I know how it feels when the need to be alone becomes too strong. I didn’t want to disturb you but I also had the feeling you need a friend.” Shrugging you open your fridge to have a look at the pies. “Cherry, blueberry or apple pie, Captain?”

“Apple pie,” Steve whispers as you get the plate out.

“There’s nothing more patriotic than eating apple pie in a 40’s style house with Captain America.” Steve watches you place the pie onto the table to get plates and forks for both of you.

“Nothing more patriotic than a kind person offering help. I saw and heard what you did. Do you even earn money this way?” Smiling you point toward a free chair.

“I have enough money for a lifetime. My father, he owned one of the most beneficial company’s. I sold it to Tony Stark after my father’s death. My father, he was a …”

“Capitalist?” Steve ends your line and you nod, sitting next to him to cut the pie.

“He was fair, Mr. Stark. I got some billions on my bank account so; I do this for free. My clients, they try to pay me, won’t accept my help for free so I donate the money or eat a lot of pie.” Laughing you hand Steve a fork.

“Why living in Brooklyn in an old townhouse in that case?” Searching your face Steve curses himself for asking you such a stupid question.

“I had a nice large house in Manhattan. I was…” Looking for the right word you sigh deeply. “Back then I was a spoiled rich brat. My husband and I, we lived the life of billionaires and all but then…”

Hiding your face in the palms of your hands you choke out a sob. “One night Richard, that was my husband's name he…he was drunk and we fought. Somehow he ended up sleeping in the guest room. He forgot his cigarette and…”

“There was a fire?” Whispering the words Steve grasp for your hand to squeeze it tightly.

“We were too engrossed in fighting over a stupid luxury vacation and diamonds to enjoy life." Swallow the lump in your throat you fall silent.

“The fire, it spread out. Richard was dead within minutes, just like my baby boy…” Sniffling you feel Steve bring you into his arms and you wrap your body around the tall man.

“I am so sorry, doll.” Steve husks and you sob into his shoulder.

“I was lucky as I loved sleeping with an open window, even during winter. The firefighter found me unconscious but alive. Richard, Michael, and our nanny were found dead. Smoke Intoxication according to the coroner.”

You hold tight onto Steve, crying into his shoulder why he does what he can best. Helping someone.

“After I came out of the hospital, I remembered my grandma’s old townhouse. My mom restored it years ago, and I wanted to get out of Manhattan, so I moved here and stayed.”

Looking up at Steve you let him wipe away your tears. “Didn’t you come here to get help? Now I ruined your shirt and mood with my sob story, Steve. How about we have tea, pie and talk a bit about your problems.”

“I am a man out of time, doll. But…” Now he gives you a shy smile. “I think I found a reason to like this new world. Maybe I found a place I like.”

“If you do not like your home…” Biting your lower lip you take a deep breath. “I have a spare room and need a man in my house to help me fix stuff. The sink is dripping, and I am pretty sure the lawnmower hates me.” Humming Steve looks at the pie on the table.

“If I get free pie and your company, I’ll fix all you want, ma’am.” Now you laugh at his serious expression. “Where shall I start?”

“Today, we will do whatever you want, Captain. How about you tell me how it felt to wake from the ice. I know it must’ve been hard.”

“When I woke in that room all I could think about was that I’ll make it to my date with Peggy. I was happy and wanted to leave only to realize it was a lie. She had a whole life while I was sleeping. I…I feel lost…”

“One day Steve, you’ll find a purpose in all of this. For now, let’s start with me telling you all I know about this world…”

All works Tags

@yolobloggers

@shikshinkwon

@miraclesoflove

@mogaruke

@shatteredabby

@soryuwifeyxx

@letsdisneythings

@i-love-superhero

@psychicforest

@thevelvetseries

@deanmonandnegansbitch

@sabascio

@goodgodimaweirdperson

@that-place-called-middle-earth

@the-broken-angel-13

@trumpettay

@zxph-yr

@belovedcherry

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

Marvel Tags

@stuckys-whore

@notyourtypicalrose

@voltage-my2dlove

@officialmarvelwhore

@randomgirlkensy

@juniorhuntersam

@lumar014

@doctorswife221b

@sister-winchesters99

@sweetkingdomstarlight-blog

@the-soulofdevil

@chonisberonica

@redroomproperty

@natura1phenomenon

@chaoticfiretaconerd

@heartislubbingdubbing

@hhiggs

@sea040561

@midnightsilver16830

@rvgrsbrns

@fandom-princess-forevermore

@amandamdiehl

@grincheveryday

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Steve Rogers/Chris Evans Tags

@roonyxx

@stylesismyhubs

@multisuperfandom

@mrspeacem1nusone

@fallenoutofrose

@rynabarnesrogers

@denisemarieangelina

@gabifernandessn

@heyiamthatbitch

#A man out of time #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel one shot #marvel tag #steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers x you #steve x y/n #steve rogers one shot #captain america #captain america fanfic #captain america oneshot #captain america x reader #angst

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cfdiamonds · 3 years

Text

[ ARON PIPER, CIS GENDERED MAN, HE/HIM ] shh ! LEOCADIO SYNDER, the TWENTY-TWO year old SECOND year ECONOMICS major from MADRID, SPAIN, is known as a DIAMOND around here. HE was invited to join because OF HIS PERSISTENCE AND HIS FATHER WAS IN THE SOCIETY, and now, they’re here to stay. HE reminds me of A LEGION OF STAFF CONSTANTLY AT YOUR SERVICE, A WARDROBE FILLED WITH THE FINEST MATERIAL, + EXPENSIVE RINGS ON EACH OF HIS FINGERS.

helloooo!! it’s been a long time coming but i’m finally excited to be here and join in on this super cool story the admins and all of you have created! i’m lia, i’m 23 and i go by she/her and they/them pronouns, so feel free to use either of them. i was going to make a graphic and a google doc but i’ve got plans with my family to watch a movie tonight, so until i can make the time i hope his app is enough!

a past and character reflection.

you were born into success and luxury, the only child of two glencore billionaires — a diversified natural resource company. the synders are responsible for the marketing of lead and make a little over a billion dollars each year. all they’ve ever known was their jobs and their money, leaving little room for anything more than that, especially the addition of a child. the nannies changed your diapers and the maid picked up your toys, while the butler handled the broken glass splayed across the marble flooring from one of your daily tantrums. they bit their tongues because you were raised to view yourself as extraordinary living in a world of the ordinary. despite this, these people meant more to you than the ones who brought you into the world. you had a mother that asked you how your day went and then immediately turned her attention back to her phone or laptop, checking off that mental to-do-list that made her believe the question was enough effort. you had a father that saw you as weak and continuously pushed you past your limits, focusing on every little flaw you had and giving you no choice but to be better. you became so conflicted between your drive to be the best and your need for love, that anger became your method of coping. even the lightest of offenses were met with your spite and you glorified material things as if it were the only thing that mattered in the world. even at the tender age of ten, power was the one thing that kept you driven.

growing up, you never had any real or close friendships. the people that you called your friends were just more people that you could benefit from — the children from rich and influential families that spanned the globe. regardless of your rude and cold exterior, they still found reason to look up to you like you were their leader, be it an inheritance from your father’s charisma or your mother’s sophistication — because everything you had, you had to thank them for right? you knew exactly how to draw people in and use them until you didn’t need them anymore, kicking them to the curb the second their time ran out. the kids that excelled in school got you the highest grade, the kids that excelled in sports helped you become captain of their teams, and the kids that assisted you in breaking the rules always took the fall. and yet, no matter how hard you proved yourself as this apex predator, your parents saw you as inferior. they always told you to work smarter not harder, but when you did, it still wasn’t enough. what more could you take from the world? it had nothing left to give you.

the next chapter in your life became your second chance to prove yourself, but this time with a different method to your persistence. just as your parents did, you’d build yourself from the ground up, not taking whatever you wanted but fighting to obtain it. you already had the determination to do what had to be done to reach your goals, now all you needed to do was make it yourself. you enter your first year at strathmore university and you never take what you need to succeed, you push yourself until you earn it. every time the fates fight against you and you feel hopeless in meeting these high expectations you and your parents have made for you, you grasp onto the anguish of that ten year old boy yearning for approval and press forward with your strength. you still hold onto that cunning aspect of your character but this time, it’s something you keep hidden beneath the surface — away from prying eyes. you slip up once or twice, but it’s never enough to allow others to see you for who you truly are. you join several clubs even though you barely have the time, slipping your name into the minds of those spanning the entirety of the campus. you maintain one of the highest grades in your classes through dedication and hard work, scoffing at the students that request your assistance … they don’t deserve your help. not now anyway. not while you fight to be noticed in a place filled to the brim with excellent minds. not while you await your invitation to the society, the first step at proving that you can be great just like them. just like your parents.

on the society

upon arriving at strathmore university, leo became obsessive in his studies and joined many clubs to assist in his quest of standing out amongst the other first years. unbeknownst to many though, he also did this in hopes of earning a spot in the secret society. this is because his father had been in the society when he was young and in order to prove his potential, this was an organization he knew he had to be involved in. despite not knowing what the society was like or what they were about, he knew that they existed because of his father but that’s the extent of his knowledge on it.

when he was finally given his chance thanks to the diamond opal, leo became passionate about his spot and willing to do whatever means necessary to keep his spot. he takes advice willingly ( but goes against it if he believes they’re wrong ) and pushes to lead in some situations, not letting anyone or anything stand in the way of his goals. although he mainly does everything for his parents, whether they will ever notice or not, it is also for himself and his desire to be something great ( something he outwardly believes he already is but has struggled with internally for a long time ). leo wants to be the best prodigy and opal that the society has ever seen, and visualizes himself as the diadem when he builds himself up to that point.

when it comes to poppy nighmore, leo is more intrigued than he is worried about the reason for her disappearance. if those within the society that knew poppy are upset about her disappearance, leo is willing to take initiative in trying to solve the mystery. he will take risks and push limits in order to find information, but does so for selfish gain than anything else. he believes that he may prove himself as a worthy and necessary addition to the opal society if he continues researching and physically proving he cares. it also gives him a chance to show the others that he is capable of big things.

wanted connections.

as i read about your characters i’ll be able to generate a bit more ideas when directly plotting with each of you! these are just the ideas i have coming into the group, so if you do not see your character fitting them, worry not! we can brainstorm<3

his soft spot — the person that leo can’t seem to say no to no matter how hard he tries. his entire life he has felt little to no remorse in his conquest for power, no matter who he trampled along the way but suddenly, out of nowhere, the world presented him with this person and every time they’re around, every ounce of him becomes vulnerable. when they tell him to do something or to behave a certain way, he seldom disobeys. if they happen to be in the room when he’s behaving as he normally does, he avoids their eyes in fear of backing down. in a way, this person in his anchor that protects him from himself.

his adversary — the person that gives leo a run for his money, testing him and pushing him every step of the way. they bear too many similarities to get along and compete over even the littlest of things. when one says yes, the other says no. the steve rogers to his tony stark. the thor to his loki.

fellow rich kids — those he knew by association prior to strathmore university or the society. they all understand each other because they grew up in similar conditions, where material things were the forms of love they received as children. they understand the lifestyle and flock together, regardless of whether or not they actually like each other. they board a private jet and escape real life for a weekend, only to return like nothing had happened come monday morning.

his best friend — leo doesn’t know it yet, perhaps neither of them do, but this person is his best friend. close relationships of any kind are foreign concepts to leo because he had, in his opinion, more important things to focus on as he grew up. love doesn’t exist in his world. so by his words, he trusts this person the most and is constantly inviting them around with him. he would never call it as it is in fear of cutting them loose and never feeling an ounce of remorse, but he’s acknowledged it in his head once or twice. this person is like the sibling he’s never had.

his mistake — in leo’s first year, he befriended this person and the pair eventually started to see each other romantically. however, leo wronged them somehow and now that he’s in the society with them, he realizes how big of a mistake he made hurting them. perhaps he fell back into old habits and made their acquaintance with the intention of gaining something, maybe in a class or by their personal influence in the world / at school, and they eventually found out about it. just an angsty exes plot.

his mentor — the diamond that took him as their prodigy. leo takes the dynamic between them incredibly serious and is willing and ready to do whatever they ask of him in order to prove they made the right choice taking him under their wing. he understands that his place in the society must not be taken for granted and so he treats it as a passion, rather than just another club around campus. he rarely does something society related without first receiving the opinion of the opal, but he also would ignore their opinion if he feels they are the one that’s wrong. this is business as usual and leo is their prodigy knowing that if all goes as planned, he will have their seat in the future.

#𝓁𝑒𝑜𝒸𝒶𝒹𝒾𝑜 𝓈𝓎𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇 〳 ⑉ introduction.#opalsintro #i sweat i'll have a stats / more in depth bio / wanted connection list soon okay #and by sweat i mean swear #sweating too though because all of you are so cool ? catch my leg on fire more like catch my heart on fire #nobody read these tags

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fullsunalicia · 4 years

Note

loved rags and riches!! if you have time, could you also write a chenle version, like a crazy rich asians au or like a chaebol au? thank you!

broken hearts club — ZCL

it’s been a long time since someone has touched zhong chenle’s frozen heart. he’s closed it off to the entire world and dedicated it to his music and the empire that he’s going to inherit. somehow though, there’s a girl with a weakness for puppies who manages to light a match for the ice clump that sits in chenle’s chest.

zhong chenle as astrid leong - kind of. :-) i hope you enjoy love. thank you for requesting. <3

Over the years, the map to Chenle’s heart has been destroyed and burnt. Many have tried to recover it, retrace the steps as they try to remember. Not one person comes close, as the only thing Chenle loves is the music and the puppy he was gifted by his favorite cousin, Renjun.

The people call him a narcissist. His family calls him lost.

He calls himself Zhong Chenle. Nothing more, nothing less. He likes sitting together with his band mates and share several bottles of soju. Whenever soneone speaks chinese with him, it sounds like music to his ears. In Korea, far from home, the only chance he gets to use his mother tongue is with Renjun, and Chenle likes it like that. He couldn’t be further away from home, and all the pain that household has brought him.

Some would kill to be in his place. The only heir to a billion dollar sum, and even richer on his own. A famous musician who’s climbing the charts and breaking records everyday. Yet money has always been a curse to Chenle. It gave him heartbreak, distrust and emotional distance to everyone who’s ever been close to him. Chenle’s heart has frozen over, as cold as the arctic, the ice prince of the Zhong family. That’s what his parents have always wanted, anyways - his ex girlfriend out of their eyes, so that they could marry Chenle off to God knows who. When she had cheated on him, they have waited for Chenle with open arms to come back home, just to stab him in the back themselves.

A beggar. That’s what his mother had called Suyin, the only woman he’s ever loved.

Choi Suyin had carved out his heart and locked it in a chest, far away for anyone ever to reach. Like Davy Jones, only that Chenle has never betrayed. He was Calypso, heartbroken and full of fury, bound to his bones. Doomed to roam the world forever, without feeling anything. Detached from reality. It felt like Chenle was standing inside of a glass house, with no way to escape, only ever being able to look out. He recognizes the sorrow and the pain that’s coming to come crashing in someday and wreck him. But there is no way to ever set him free again and honestly, he isn’t even sure if he ever wants to. Love has ruined him; it has ruined his perception of people and of himself. Suyin had wanted him to make her a princess.

He can’t make her something she is not.

The whispers follow Chenle down the hall whenever he is home, though that’s a rare occasion. Fool, they murmur. A blind man. Almost robbed. If he could, he’d smash the glass of his cage and use it to wildly stab around, willing to hurt anyone who gets in the way. He wants them to feel, to suffer what he endures all day and night, a never ending nightmare. The torture of the shining jewelry, sent to him by his mother, serving as a silent reminder of what is waiting for him when the family forces Chenle’s hand and makes him return.

The ghoulish wedding that awaits him. Chenle counts the days, prays that he finds the key to the locker he never wants to see again. Dread fills him at the mere prospect of romance, but he’d rather be in pain for another thousand years instead of being married off like some worthless thing. Like his career never meant something, only some ploy of entertainment, never serious to his parents. It’s all about business, never pleasure, never happiness. To think about the company is more important than to think about your mental health. If that turns you into a psychopath, you’ll just have to make a business idea out of it and see where it gets you.

Therapy to the Zhongs is alcohol, and income. That was the very first lesson to be learnt. It’s deeply ingrained into his soul, and no matter how much time Chenle wastes at his attempts, he cannot wipe it away. Even for music, his first and true love, his mind goes to the sales first instead of the talent the song can pull out of him. Will his voice attract buyers? How should he dress to seduce the crowd? It’s all just a show, and all the roles are casted by him. What a show it is, though.

From the distance, it looks perfect. No stage fright, only elegance. The closer you get, the more you realize it’s a circus. Chenle is the biggest clown you’ll ever set eyes on.

The road to his heart is harsh and frozen. Maybe the damage is too great that anyone will ever be able to walk upon it again. But you’re willing to take the chance.

Chenle looks down as you pet the little Samoyed behind his ear, big smile on your lips. Honest; unusually so. He’s too used to choking on the sugar that keeps dripping from peoples’ lies. And here you are, jumping from stone to stone on the way to his heart, like you’re crossing some river. And you haven’t even looked at him yet.

“This dog is absolutely beautiful,” you hum, the happiness in your voice thrumming inside his head. Pleasing to listen to. “So beautiful, aren’t you? Of course you are. Pretty baby...”

You’ve taken the words out of Chenle’s mouth, but they weren’t exactly for Chan. If he was another man, he’d tell them to you. Because he isn’t, he’d rather choke on them than speak them aloud.

“He really is.” Finally, you look up. Your eyes are as pure as your mouth, see-through, easy to trust. It makes alarms ring in the ice prince’s head, and he’s pulling up the bridges to the castle in panic. He doesn’t know how you managed to do that with one look, and he honestly doesn’t want to know.

He can’t afford to find out. He can’t. Chenle is still reeling from the wound Suyin has inflicted him, running as deep as the ocean, straight through his heart. A cruel metaphor for cupid’s arrow. Still, you make Chenle want to pull it out and offer it to you. Curious whether you’d drive it back in, or break it and set him free.

The hope blooming inside his chest makes him wish for the latter.

Your beauty is already alluring just the way it is, but when your lips curve into a soft smile, you break all the viewers’ hearts in the loveliest way. It’s brighter than any jewel Chenle’s ever set eyes on, and he has already seen enough to last him a lifetime. Sick of them, actually. For you, he’d be willing to try and search for one that matches your radiance. “Love dogs too much to resist,” you admit. “I apologize for caressing the pretty boy out of the blue, but I’ve never been able to turn away from puppy dog eyes.”

“Me, too.” Chenle sinks into a squatting position so you’re both on eye level. It physically hurts to watch you blush. It hurts because he can imagine being the old Chenle who’d ask you on a date right here and there. Careless, without any worry in the world, he would take your hand and offer you the world like he had with Suyin. Because money is a burden, but it only became a curse the moment Suyin had conquered him just to enrichen herself. Become a Zhong, a legend. Have it all and spend it all. She never understood that love is more powerful than any money’s worth in the entire world. “Though that makes me a bad dog owner, doesn’t it? It gets kinda hard to be strict with him when he looks at me in such an adorable way. My baby..”

Chan presses his fuzzy head to Chenle’s palm. The only one in this world who’d ever love him just for being him. Chenle smiles and scratches the back of his baby’s ear, pleased with the rumble Chan lets out at that. Both dog and owner know the other like the back of their hand. You watch the wholesome interaction, the kindness in your eyes makes Chenle soft.

Right now, you’re knocking at the doors to his heart, begging to be let in like in The Princess and the Pea. He forces himself to turn away.

He’s a masochist, but this is too much for even Zhong Chenle.

“Never had a dog again after mine passed away when I was sixteen.” Your voice is a little bit distant now, hollow. Detached. Your heart has been broken in a different way than his has, but the pain is very similar. Chenle recognizes himself in the way you wrap your arms around your own frame, as if you’re trying to hold yourself together. To force the broken pieces to stay in place. He wants to tell you that you’re never going to be able to do that alone, but he’s too much of a coward who doesn’t trust anyone in the world. Not anymore. “Hurt too much. Felt like a betrayal. I still love dogs more than anyone else, but I think I’m just not ready to adopt another one. At least not in the near future.”

Chenle agrees, though you’re talking about two seperate things. He needs to quit love, like an addict checking himself into rehab. It’s a must, not a neccesity. Though it makes him sick to the stomach, he forces himself to stick to the company procedure. Business before pleasure. Business before anything.

❀ ❀ ❀

Love has never hurt you before. Never have you brushed hands with death and decay the way Chenle has, but you see it in his eyes. The passing ghost of a lover who once was. Where should be warmth is steel, the protective shell of a man who wants nothing to do with the world.

But how stunning that man is. Of course, your entire attention had been on the dog first, but when you locked eyes with Chenle - what an experience! The taste of heaven in one look. Sharp features, as dangerous as knives. Unruly dark hair, the color of the sky at midnight, colder than any breeze that’s ever shaken you up. You don’t believe in love at first sight, not in destiny.

Still, you came so close to it. You saw where the universe breathed life into Chenle. The shaping of dying stars and the brightest burning suns. He’s both Pandora’s box and the golden fleece in one. All you had managed to coax out of him was his name, and of course the one of the dog who you spent ten minutes playing with. You’ve not known about Zhong Chenle before, but you certainly do now.

The only son of his prestigious family. World renowned musician, the critics call his voice that of an angel. Of course he is an angel. Have they seen him? Instagram spits out more information than you’d expected to receive, but here you are, reading an article about his ex girlfriend.

Definitely not creepy or anything.

It’s certainly a explanation. The illness-ridden soul of a man so young, he is still clinging to adolescence. Grief is a terrible disease. You weirdly feel like you’ve stepped into a room where people had been arguing, and now the awkward silence is weighing heavy on you. You’d desperately like to walk out, but something keeps you there like an invisible anchor. The lure of someone as gorgeous as Zhong Chenle, with the promise of secrets as sacred as religious scrolls.

You wonder if you would be going too far if you followed the guy on Instagram. That face is too pretty to miss out on. But there’s also your curiousity that keeps drawing you in, makes your mind wonder and wander off to the countless possibilities of who Chenle is who he is. You need satisfaction to bring you back, or you’ll just stay a dead, curious cat.

One that definitely drops her phone on her own face when she sees that the mentioned more-angel-than-man has followed her back. The man has two point three million followers, for Christ’s sake! There would be no way for him to randomly pick you out from the countless names that fill up his notifications, right? Wrong.

There’s a private message waiting for you as you accept his following request.

[07:27pm] @zhcl: i see you found the pictures of chan already.

The tabloids speak of zero interest towards any other person that’s not family or bandmate. So why, pray tell, does Chenle indulge you?

You grasp the opportunity, anyways. You want to find out what lies behind the ice, waiting to be discovered.

[07:33pm] @yn: i was quite distracted by the handsome fellow that photographed him, though.

[07:34pm] @zhcl: very smooth, miss (y/n). were you blushing when you typed that?

[07:34pm] @zhcl: you look too cute to be taken serious when you do.

[07:35pm] @yn: flirting, are we?

You felt the chill when Chenle had spoken to you. The hidden danger behind a calm voice. Still waters which hide deadly sirens. You know now that he was hurt, terribly so, and it made you feel guilty about your interest in him. The world had treated him badly and here you were, acting like it was nothing. You clutch your phone, ready to be heavily told off and the follow to be retracted.

Your heart almost stops when your phone vibrates, the ring tone suddenly much too loud.

[07:39pm] @zhcl: is it working?

❀ ❀ ❀

Chenle’s mother never changes.

When he enters the house, several servants swarm him to help with shoes and jacket, but he passes them all. The hall is cold, freezingly so, unusual for his mother who seems to fuel the open fire with wads of cash. This is the house he’s grown up in, too big for the warmth of love and affection to be felt inside it. The family members too far away from each other to even interact, like stars in the nightsky. Related, but never touching, never in contact. When they do, it detonates a violent supernova, and that never ends good.

Chenle still remembers the smashed glasses at the end of the family event, thrown against the wall by a Huang cousin who’s name Chenle would rather choke on than ever speak again. A Huang, but not of Renjun’s siblings. A bastard, that’s what he is. He, who usurped his father’s power and wastes all his money on sex, alcohol and entertainment. It’s a blessing this guy will never inherit the family business, though he pities Renjun for having to do it. Just as much as he pities himself.

When Suyin had left, the people had started gossiping. Spreading rumors, spreading hope. The ice prince is on the market again, ready to be courted, to fall victim to a woman’s temptation. His parents had spent eternity dragging Suyin’s name through the mud, because she was just an ordinary girl. Not rich, not poor. She works the graveyard shift at a diner and sometimes helps out in her dad’s restaurant for some extra cash. Fashion enthusiast. Homewrecker. The poor girl that was left at the altar because of Suyin - he’s seen the engagement ring on her finger, and he knows what it means to that particular Huang.

Absolutely nothing. The means to an end. A way to keep some more money because of taxes that are shared as an married couple.

To Chenle’s parents, Suyin could have very well been living under a bridge. His mother wishes to wed him with a princess, royal born, not made. Merge companies with people she trusts and strip ressources of. Birds of a feather. Truly, the marriage of the century. Too bad that Chenle only marries out of love. Too bad that’s the thing he’s sworn off for the rest of his life.

His mind punishes him instantly for that lie, your face flashing infront of his inner eye.

Sweet (y/n). It’s a little embarrassing how quick he jumps at his phone at any sign that you could’ve responded, and it scares him to no end. You scare him, with your good intentions and charming smile. When you had agreed to meet each other again, Chenle had let himself be dragged to a café of your choosing. There’s still the lingering taste of coffee cake on it.

Your kiss still burns on his cheek. Never forgotten for a second. A constant reminder.

As clear as day, the memory plays out in his mind. You had looked up to him while he tasted your pastry of recommendation, head lost in the clouds. You’re always thinking about something. You have the same look in your eyes as the one in Renjun’s when he searches for words that can’t be put in the same context as Suyin.

“You know who I am.”

You had stealen his fork and scooped up your own share of the cake. That was rather cheeky of you, paying for the dessert even though Chenle was already getting his wallet out. You’re stubborn. “I’ve heard of you,” you had told him. After listening to so many untruths all of his life, even your honesty starts to hurt in his ears. It makes him uneasy. “But that doesn’t mean I know you. I would like to. Will you let me?”

Not once had you looked scared when Chenle’s hands had turned into fists, the veins on them becoming prominent. The sight of a tortured man who’s trying to keep it together. A face that’s mapped out with sorrow and anger and betrayal. “I could hurt you. I’m afraid there isn’t much left to get to know. I’ve thrown it all away. Did you hear of that?”

You had started cutting the cake in pieces, long lashes caressing your skin as you look down. The wish to touch you had hit him so strongly, it almost shocked him. Chenle leant forward and accepted the fork in his mouth while watching you intently, finding pure satisfaction in the way roses bloom in your cheeks because of it. Eye contact makes you shy. To you, it’s sensual. You lowered your gaze. “I did.” The fork scraped against his teeth. You took another bite on your own and this time, your eyes never left his. “But I enjoy a good treasure hunt here and there. You look precious, Zhong Chenle. I’d like to look for the pieces with your permission.”

Chenle was so certain his heart was dead, its’ last beat defeaned by the wood it was kept in. Despite that, he had felt the jolt as it spurred back to life, making Chenle believe it returned to him, and the fear that comes along with it.

You’re dangerous, like playing with fire. You instilled the desire to be burned inside an ice prince, and that is too much power for one person to possess. So why does he make no effort to stop you?

“Chenle.” The voice sounds too polite for a mother. She descends the stairs, expression neutral, the walk of a queen. In another life, she’d certainly be one. “Qin ai de. You finally came. I was getting rather tired of calling your phone the past few months. Where have you been?”

Avoiding you, he wants to say. Running away from this castle that’s too vacant and lacks the love to be called a proper home. This is a prison, and you’re the warden dragging me in with chains.

But he doesn’t. Chenle slips into the good son role and lets himself be hugged, even though the embrace is void of any warmth. “Busy,” he responds. “I’m a working man, mom. Singing is a career, you know, despite how much you’d like to ignore it. There must be a reason you supported it so much in my childhood days.”

“That’s exactly the reason, son.” His mother begins climbing the stairs again, an unspoken order for him to follow. Chenle suppresses a sigh and begins climbing, too. It’s only noon, but he already feels drop-dead-tired. “Because it was your childhood. I didn’t expect you to turn your back on an empire to play the singing fool for some teenage girls. I suppose that has its’ benefits, but it’s also rather sad to only see my son in the news and not in person. This is your home, Chenle. We’re not going to crown you emperor the second you step back into this threshold. You’ll take over the company when you want to, even though we’d welcome an early decision.”

Bile rises in his throat before Chenle can stop it. Venom, it’s all venom, and you’re the cure. He only has to get through this. Just a day, and then he gets to see you again. “Sure, mom,” he manages to answer. “I’ll think about it.”

“I didn’t expect you to visit. We have company, you know. They’re both quite lovely, though you’ll like the daughter more.”

This is the reason Chenle refuses to be inside this house for even a second. The looming threat of an arranged marriage. No one’s going to force him to take over the company, but his mother would rather take a bullet than ever allow a Suyin ever again. Even if she looks and talks like an angel that goes by the name (y/n).

The entire time, Chenle is silent. He doesn’t even try to acknowledge the fact that his mother is a terrible wingwoman, and a good way to pass the time is to imagine your face, retrace it in his memories. You, insisting to pay, because it’s “your treat”. You, who never steers the conversation somewhere he doesn’t want it to go. The strawberry blush that makes him want to kiss you until you’re breathless.

You’re a threat, (l/n) (y/n). The closer you get to Davy Jones’ keys, the more he wants to push you away and never see you again. At the same time, Chenle wants to go on his knees and beg you to set him free of this locker.

Nothing could have stopped him from taking the next plane home. His bandmates pick him up, but he’ would have liked it to be you. What he doesn’t like is the look in Renjun’s eyes, the man who is Chenle’s kindred spirit. Renjun knows too much. He saw too much. A shared childhood is both blessing and bother.

“Tell me about (y/n).”

“Absolutely not,” Chenle shoots back without hesitation. “See you, Renjun.” With a quick swing, he tries to force the door closed, but his childhood friend wedges a foot between wood and wall and lets himself in.

“Very reactive to that name, aren’t we, Chenle?” Renjun hums and drops on the couch. He accepts the whiskey Chenle hands him, but cusses the second the younger’s hand meets the back of his head. “You do that again and I’ll strangle you, Zhong, friends or not. Now tell me about the damn woman already.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Because you’re a coward.”

“Yes, I fucking am.” Chenle doesn’t usually curse, but talking about you is a weakness. He doesn’t love Suyin anymore, absolutely not. The years have passed and changed him, whether that’s good or bad. But not his wounds, not the injury done to his precious, ice-cold heart. He’s so afraid of being used, tossed aside like an old toy you don’t want to play with anymore. With just a few actions, you’ll be able to tear Chenle down and ruin him forever. He’s barely stitching himself up from Suyin’s attack and now here you are, pleading to be let in. The desire to allow that is immense, so enourmous it makes him lightheaded.

He won’t survive another girl. Not with this kind of life, with his circumstances, with his upbringing. Love him most or not at all. That is all Chenle can offer you, and maybe that’s unfair. But being just has never helped him with anything, and it certainly hasn’t stopped Choi Suyin from ramming her high heels into the shattered pieces of his broken heart as she walked away.

Renjun watches him over the rim of his glass. Silent, but not in the way where he has to think about not wounding Chenle with his words. Just ... confused. Right now, Renjun is offering advice, not shelter. “Chenle, give yourself a break. You’re human. You’re bound to fall in love someday.”

“Not if I can stop it.”

“You’re not a robot,” Renjun hisses, suddenly volatile, and the loud slam of his glass hitting the mahogany table makes Chenle flinch. Not what he had expected. “I’ve watched you rot for years now, and it has done nothing good for you. I am trying to help you, Chenle, trying to save you from drowning, but you’re thrashing around like a mad man. If you continue like this, you’ll sink yourself to the bottom of the river. Do you want to end up like that? Do you?”

The younger man rubs his eyes, tired. It’s been so long, so unbelievably long since hollowness hasn’t ruled over Zhong Chenle. His parents would never approve of you. It’s going to spike another family war.

Quite frankly, he doesn’t give a fuck.

After a few minutes of some peace and quiet, Chenle finally stands up. He rounds the table separating him and Renjun and bows down to hug him, the suprise evident in Renjun’s eyes when he leans back. “You’re a good friend, Jun,” Chenle tells him. His chest feels light. Maybe it knows that the familiar weight of his heart is returning to it. “A true friend. Thank you.”

He leaves his childhood friend on the couch, his mind already far away, in a place where he can put the keys into your hands without fear. Without hesitation.

They belong to you.

❀ ❀ ❀

“See something you like, Zhong?”

Caught in the act, Chenle looks up and meets your eyes. It would be rather disrespectful to comment on your thighs right now, but if the circumstances were different, if you were already his, he’d tell you all about how good they’d look around his waist. Nonetheless, he only shrugs. “That’s a pretty skirt. Shame I’m going to ruin it by throwing you into the sea.”

“Dont you dare!” Your threat is far from being taken seriously, but Chenle is only teasing you, anyways. You’re light on his arms, more doll than human, and he likes the feeling of you clinging to him for safety. It’s weird - warmth and feeling returning to him. It has been winter inside Zhong Chenle for eternity, and now that he’s pushed open the gates, he feels like he stepped into another realm.

Your skin is warm below his touch. If you dislike his arms wrapped around the back of your thighs, you’re certainly not complaining. The walk to the beach is quiet, except for the squeaks and laughs you let out when he intentionally stops and pretends to fall. “You’re impossible,” you mumble when he sets you down on the picnic blankets.

Excuse you? You’re the one who looks like they just fell down from heaven.

“Is there any reason you decided to kidnap me? Because I didn’t get to see Chan one last time, and that is utmost treason. I demand to see my lawyer.”

“You can see him later.” Chenle tugs you closer. Can you feel his heartbeat below your hands on his chest? The sound is so foreign. Since he accepted the fact that you’re a weakness he can’t ignore, he’s been experiencing arrhythmia non-stop. His heart is just not supposed to be there. An ice prince shouldn’t be able to be melted.

He’d really like to see someone who would withstand you, though. You are heaven and hell, in the shape of a mere human, light as a feather in his arms. There are not many in this world who can claim to have Zhong Chenle wrapped around their little finger. Truth be told, only one person has been able to say that. Now, you’ve snatched away the reigning title, and you’ve deemed Chenle’s lap to be an appropiate throne.

Never would he have assumed that you’d do it on your own accords, but Chenle isn’t complaining. He almost purrs when you straddle his lap, soft skirt pooling around your legs. He screws his eyes shut and tries not to think about the lack of clothes between you two.

Scratch that, you’re a devil. And you are fully aware. The giggle you let fall from your lips doesn’t really sound innocent. He wishes to shut you shut you up with a kiss. What he would give to be in a private room right now.. A dark corner... “What’s so funny, (y/n)?” Chenle mumbles before his thoughts can drift further.

“Just how easy you are to fluster.” You laugh again, not even hiding it this time. The wind breezes through your hair, messing up the curls in his place. Are they as soft as they look like? Chenle wants to find out.

“You mean like you are?” He kisses your cheek as you turn red below his lips. This is what love should have felt like. Freedom and carelessness, not the constant need to look over your shoulder. As easy as breathing. As calm as the sea. The keys to his heart are falling from Chenle’s grip, and he’s not sure he even wants to pick them up.

It’s so easy to let go when he looks into your eyes and sees his future.

“Chenle,” you whisper. His shirt crumples in your grip, but he doesn’t care. Chenle lets himself be tugged closer, his own heartbeat jumping erratically, still unused to being out of the box. The ice floes are melting. You’re breaking him free. When his lips finally meet yours, he forgets all about the years he wasted on irrational sorrow. There should be regret about how he’s denied himself of emotions and the world, but you wash it away with all the hope you’re giving him while your lips move against his. You taste like an antidote.

His parents will never accept you. They’ll have Chenle’s head on a plate and deliver it to a family of their own choosing, one they deem perfect as their in-laws, but he counts on you to fight them back, just like how you’re fighting your way into his heart. You didn’t need the map, you wrote your own. You didn’t need a fire, you used your soul.

The key turns in its’ lock. It’s a perfect fit, just like you.

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kailedger · 4 years

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for all the YOI fanfic author, p.2

Oh wow, let me tell you, I really didn't expect the previous post on Russian culture to blow up ahaha (Here’s the link to it, in case you’re wondering: https://kailedger.tumblr.com/post/621351027189350400/for-all-the-yoi-fanfic-authors) But since it did, I decided to make a part two, sort of? It's not gonna be about mistakes in fanfiction, but more about things English-speaking authors don't mention simply because they don't know they exist.

I’ll give you the general info and then maybe throw some thoughts about how specific YOI characters would relate to that info in my personal opinion.

HOLIDAYS. We have a lot of those TBH, but I'll mention the most important ones - the ones for which we have official days off. I mean, yeah, you can find a list of those in Wikipedia, if you want, but it doesn't actually tell you the reality of things. I've already mentioned the New Year in the previous post, so let’s skip it.

23rd of February is the Defender of the Fatherland Day. It's actually for those who served in the army, but the tradition is to congratulate everyone who's male. Must have something to do with the fact that on 8th of March we have an International Women's Day, when we congratulate everyone who's female. Doesn't really make sense to me, since, you know, there are women in the army too. And a lot of men haven't served a day in their life, what the hell do I have to thank them for? (Here's an example: my dad used to be in the navy, submarine's captain actually, and every year when I congratulate him, he says something along the lines of "Why? There was no war conflict when I served". That's him being humble, but still, the point is there).

ANYWAY! We're not very big on celebrations of these two holidays, most of the time you just give a call to your respective male/female friends and relatives, give flowers to the ladies and just... enjoy your day off?

Next one is the May holidays. Those are usually on the 1-3 of May, the official name (as Wiki states) is "The Day of Spring and Labour". Honestly, no one uses it lol We just say "the first May holidays" (since we also have the second, that's how much we don't wanna work in May; kinda ironic the holiday is called "the day of labour").

You don't congratulate anyone on this day, usually you just have a couple of days off. If we're lucky, the weather would be nice and then people go to the countryside to have a (oh my god, this is gonna be a mouthful) SHASHLYKI. We'll get back to this thing, and you know why? Since if you want someone to embrace the real Russian culture, you would make them go to shashlyki, trust me.

The second May holiday is the Victory Day, and it's kinda... controversial in a way. It is a big celebration for the victory in World War II. Soviet Union suffered a lot during the war with the Nazi Germany, St. Petersburg was under the siege for more than TWO YEARS. And this holiday is both somber and happy since thanks to our ancestors we survived this hell and are now able to live in peace. The celebration is pretty big on official levels - there are military parades everywhere, concerts, people thank the war veterans (there are precious few of them left by now). When I was still in school, they made us visit those parades every year. Guess what? I've never been to a single parade since I graduated. It's not that I don't value the heroism of people who fought in WWII, it's that I think our government uses this holiday to brag how great we are (or, rather, THEY are), 'cause they haven't done anything worth of praise since 1945, which is... depressing, when you think of it. The ridiculous thing is the parade was canceled this year due to coronavirus, but GUESS WHAT? They've used BILLIONS OF DOLLARS to still have it on 24th of June. While the rate of people getting sick is still abnormally high. All because on the 1st of July we're having a vote on the constitution amendments and our government needs an extra boost in patriotism from our people (should I mention some of the amendments are homophobic? Yeah, it sucks).

Well... that was a rant completely offtopic lol. But, you know, this is the opinion of the most people below the age of 35. Also a huge problem here in Russia. Anyway, as I was saying. Used to be a really great holiday where we thanked the veterans and were reminded of the price they paid. Now it's just a sad excuse for the government to waste money sigh

So, a day off. Some fireworks, a hell lot of traffic problems due to parades. Not much else, if you're from the younger generation.

Same thing goes to the 12th of June. Officially a "Russia Day", but since up until the point I graduated from the uni I had summer holidays, I barely even acknowledged the holiday, cause I didn't have to study/work anyway. So like... I lived my whole life here in Russia, and I have no idea why we celebrate this holiday on the 12th of June. I can google it right now, but that kind of would contradict my point here lol.

The last one is on the 3-4 of November. I think it's called something like "Unity Day", but, again, no idea why. Most of the time we just call it "the November holidays" or even "fall holidays". Honestly, most of the time we just care about the days off, especially if the holiday is supposed to be "patriotic". (When I put it like this, we kinda sound like assholes. Probably cause we are lol).

Birthdays mainly depend on the specific person. I used to love my birthdays and it was a big holiday for me when I was a kid, but then I turned 18 and it kinda lost its charm. You still celebrate it, especially if the date is something like 30, 35, 40, 45 and so on. But it gets less and less exciting over the years. I gather my friends at home and just have drinks, my fiance goes to a bar on his birthday. Not very... celebratory, ya know?

So. YOI characters. ALL OF THEM would definitely celebrate New Year. They would probably send some congratulations on 23rd of February and 8th of March. It you think of the Russian rinkmates as friends, they can go the countryside together on the first May holidays, but not actually do anything on the Victory Day (Yakov may attend the parade since he’s from the older generation). Nothing specific to do on 12th of June or November holidays, most likely the rink would be closed, so, like, just a day off.

And now to the important stuff. SHASHLYKI. Oh my god guys, I’m so excited, cause this is one of those things that is AWESOME in Russian culture. And also makes most of the foreigners really confused. But it has some similarities with the American barbeque gatherings, I think.

First of all, many of us live in big cities (like I live in St. Petersburg for example), but we still have countryside houses. Sometimes it’s where our grandparents live, sometimes we buy it specifically. The thing is – we usually go to these places we call “dacha” to have some rest from the noise of the big city and enjoy the fresh air. Usually dachas have gardens, my mom is crazy about all this greenery stuff (I personally don’t see what’s the big deal with taking care of the plants, but I was told it comes with age ;D).

And to enjoy the experience even more we have shashlyki. It’s usually grilled meat (chicken, pork, whichever you prefer) and vegetables, but the process is what makes it really fun. Most families have their own recipes for marinated meat, you prepare it beforehand. Then, on the day, you make some snacks (salted pickles and fresh vegetables come to my mind immediately; pickles are like a must-have, it’s almost an obligatory food since it goes really well with vodka lol). While some of the people sit around the table, have drinks and catch up, there’s usually one person responsible for grilling meat. And this process is very important – it’s gotta be cooked on the brazier with actual flame (or, more like, coals). You put pieces of meat on a metallic skewer and then grill it (I think there’s the word “kebab”, but we usually use it to describe an entirely different meal, so, shashlyk it is). And let me tell you – having a freshly grilled shashlyk with some vegetables and a drink like wine (or vodka if you’re into it) is the best feeling in the world.

So you’re enjoying the fresh air, really tasty meal, have some drinks with family or/and friends. A pretty common thing (not for everyone, but I personally love it) is having someone play the guitar and sing songs around the campfire. The songs we sing are usually either stupid or old, and you would never just casually listen to those on your own, but when the time comes and you sit with the guitar, somehow EVERYONE knows the lyrics. The point is to have fun, not make a concert out of it :)

I actually think that Victor and the rest of the gang would at least try to give Yuuri (and other non-Russians, who knows) this kind of experience. I also headcanon someone (Otabek or maybe Victor himself) knowing how to play the guitar. But I wouldn’t trust Victor with the grilling, honestly, it requires a lot of attention, and… well… you all know what Victor is like ;D

And since we’re on the topic of music, let’s discuss it. Me and a dear friend of mine @clarie-foster, who also happens to be both Russian and a YOI fan, had a lot of headcanons on this.

What you need to know, is when it comes to music, here in Russia we’re pretty flexible. The popular music is the one you can here everywhere, it’s on European and American charts, like, I dunno, Beyonce, Ed Sheeran, Gaga etc. There’s Russian pop-music and, honestly, it sucks lol. Most of the time I listen to it cause it’s dumb and catchy. There are some good artists, of course, I can throw you a couple of name bands like “Ночные Снайперы”, “Сплин”, “Би-2”, but the songs are in Russian, and although the lyrics are pretty damn good, they’re kinda hard to understand if you don’t know the language (I mean, just reading the translation won’t give you the whole experience). And those bands are… depressing? In a way? Not that the songs are extremely dark or something, but you kind of listen to those in a melancholic mood. Me and one of my best friends used to go out on the balcony in summer, sit wrapped in a blanket and listen to those songs. Great experience, if a little sad.

BUT. There’s the old pop-music. We have some of those artists, who were really popular when my parents were young and somehow still popular these days. Their music is honestly average – the tunes might be catchy, the lyrics are mediocre at best, but… when you have a little bit to drink, you get in that mood, where you start singing those old pop-songs. And it’s not like listening to ABBA or, I don’t know, A-ha, since those are classic and still good these days. Russian pop-songs SUCK, they’re horrible, but somehow that is the best kind of music when you’re drunk.

I personally think Victor is one of those people who would totally jam to the old Russian pop. It’s funny, since most of it is from female singers (There’s literally a song from a Russian singer Irina Allegrova called “Go crazy, wild empress”, no kidding). I just can picture him so clearly being drunk and singing those old songs with abandon lol.

Mila would probably join him while laughing hysterically. Georgi too, since he’s a drama queen. And Yuri would make all kinds of disgusted faces.

Two facts which I have never seen being mentioned in fanfiction, which is really weird. So Victor lives in St. Petersburg, as we all saw from those last scenes in the anime (in the background you can see actual places from St. P like our sports stadium). And St. Petersburg is mostly known for two things: bridges and white nights.

WHITE NIGHTS OH MY GOD. I don’t want to go to deep into the details since I don’t really understand the nature of this thing (something to do with sun not really going down? I dunno), but in summer, especially in June and July it basically doesn’t get dark in St. Petersburg. I mean, the sun does go down, you can see the sunset and everything, but the sky stays like… white-grey, almost as though it’s midday, just cloudy. Like we’re in the middle of white nights right now, and the darkest hour is around 1 am, but even then it doesn’t really get dark at all. A lot of people from other cities and countries get confused by it, like, there was this time when Stephen Colbert was a guest on a Russian talk-show and he had a hilarious convo with the host. It was something like this: “So I’ve been in St. Petersburg for one day. It has lasted for 46 hours. Please tell me if the sun will ever go down, ‘cause I’m going crazy”.

For us common people white nights can get really annoying, if your curtains are not black-out, you can have a hard time falling asleep (since, you know, it’s too freaking bright outside). But it’s actually really great for late-night walks and is considered really romantic.

And, speaking of romantic, the bridges! What’s so special about those, you’d think. So St. Petersburg is built on the river Neva – it’s like really big, has a lot of tributaries and distributaries and flows through the whole city. Hence why we have tons of bridges.

And those bridges are drawing bridges, meaning they are separated in the middle by a special mechanism and are being lifted in the air so that the trade ships can pass underneath them. The most impressive one is the Palace Bridge – it’s one of the main sightseeing spots in the city. For most tourists it’s obligatory to visit St. Petersburg and see the drawing of the Palace Bridge. It happens at night, around the time of 1 am or 2 am. It’s really pretty, cause there are lights everywhere, you can see the ships passing by and the view of this huge structure being lifted in the air is really magnificent. Combine it with the white nights and you’ll have one of the most romantic dates you can have here in Russia.

(On the more realistic and depressing note: despite the drawing of the bridges being really beautiful, it’s SUCH a pain in the ass for the regular people. Like, because of the drawing you can’t really get from one side of the city to another. For example, I live in the northern part and if for some reason I couldn’t get to it from the center of the city before the drawing of the bridges, I’m stuck till like 4 or 5 am. Subway only opens at 6 am, and although we have a couple of bridges which never draw, those are on the outskirts of the city, so taking an uber and driving there would cost you a lot of money and also would take like and extra hour or so. Thankfully, the drawing of the bridges lasts only from April to October-November, while the ship navigation on the Neva river is possible).

Last, but not least, SOCIAL MEDIA.

So, like, Instagram is pretty popular in Russia and so is Twitter. But what people rarely mention is our own social media site – Vkontakte (www.vk.com, if you’re interested). It started to become popular in like… 2008, I think? Basically it used to be and knock-off from Facebook, even the color scheme is the same. It became more and more popular over the years, since Facebook was never really a thing in Russia (like, I had a profile there, but I’ve never used it). Now it’s like… if you don’t have a VK profile, it’s super weird lol. I communicate with most of my friends through it, since it has a lot of really cool features: chats, group chats, communities, music, videos and photos. It’s gotten so big that VK even hosts its own music festival each year with a lot of popular Russian artists.

Victor is a social butterfly, so he would definitely have a VK profile. So would Mila, Yuri and Georgi, I personally think most of their communication would be through it. Maybe they would even force Yuuri to create a profile, but he’s not really into social media much, so he wouldn’t really use it.

I think that’s it for now. Like I said, if you have any questions, feel free to ask, I would be happy to answer! ;)

#yoi #yuri on ice #yuuri on ice #victor nikiforov #viktor nikirofov #yuuri katsuki #victuuri #viktuuri #yuri plisetsky #mila babicheva #georgi popovich #and all this russia-related stuff

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blushingbaka · 3 years

Note

can i request the mistletoe matchup for haikyuu and bnha please :D

she/her, ENTP, 8w7. i prefer guys :)

favorite christmas song: thank god it's christmas by queen or santa tell me by ariana grande hehe

favorite winter/christmas activity: SHOPPING!!! just the vibes of the mall is *mwah* chefs kiss. i love buying gifts for others but also using my christmas money to get myself stuff :D but it's mainly the vibes of the mall that makes me so happy.

hello bri ! thanks for the request !! buying things for yourself is just it’s own special form of happiness, so I definitely feel you on that one hehe i hope you enjoy what i came up with <3

for haikyuu

Underneath the mistletoe, you’ll find...

❅ ❆ ❉ ❊ TENDOU SATORI ❅ ❆ ❉ ❊

you can’t tell me tendou doesn’t l o v e going to the mall. he’s a total people watcher, so the chaos of Christmas shopping only makes going more appealing to him

you two are close friends, and you frequently hang out in the mall. one day as you’re passing Santa you jokingly ask tendou what he would ask Santa for, but he only tsks saying that you should know what he wants for christmas

this comment causes you to overthink your gift and you spend the better part of December trying to guess what he wants, but he says all your guesses are wrong

it’s a week before Christmas and you’re out of guesses. Seeing your frustration tendou says he’ll tell you if you can prove you’re a good friend

The way he allows you to prove this is by completing a sort of treasure hunt he created in the mall you two always go to

He placed clues all around that are somehow tied to a memory or something you two do in the mall. So each time you figure out and go to where the clue is talking about, there’s another clue waiting for you and so forth

Some places he leads you to are your favorite kiosk to get snacks, the place where he stood and pretended to be a mannequin for two hours, the gumball machine he always treats you to, his favorite place to people watch from, and even the little, quarter operated, stationary helicopter for kids that you two almost got stuck in.

You’re confused by one clue that doesn’t seem to reference any of your memories at all, but you know exactly what it’s talking about. “Find every cliche couple’s favorite christmas display”

You head to the display featuring mistletoe that couples love to take pictures under, but instead of another clue, you find tendou

“I guess you are a decent friend” he muses, but you can tell he’s pleased you were able to figure out all his clues

“Why is this the last spot though? It doesn’t have anything to do with us”

But he tells you that it is a very special spot because it’s where you’re going to give him the only thing he wants for christmas: a kiss from you

“You like me?” you have to ask nervous that he might only be teasing you

“Yeah and I thought it was obvious, but I guess you really are oblivious if all these clues didn’t help you figure it out” he tuts, and your breath hitches as he cups your cheeks. “So can I have my gift now?” he asks an undertone of seriousness in his voice

As soon as you give him a slight nod of your head, he’s pressing his lips to yours, and you melt into his touch. you think his confession might be the gift you never knew you needed

and who’s hoping to steal a kiss from you next year ??

*̣̥☆·͙̥‧‧̩̥❅·‧•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥˟͙☃˟͙‧̩̥·‧•̥̩̥͙‧·❅‧̩̥‧·͙̥̣☆*̣̥

Kuroo Tetsurou Konoha Akinori

*̣̥☆·͙̥‧‧̩̥❅·‧•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥˟͙☃˟͙‧̩̥·‧•̥̩̥͙‧·❅‧̩̥‧·͙̥̣☆*̣̥

for bnha

Underneath the mistletoe, you’ll find...

❅ ❆ ❉ ❊ TODOROKI SHOUTO ❅ ❆ ❉ ❊

todoroki is pretty oblivious when it comes to romantic feelings, so mistletoe ends up being your last resort as a tool of confession

you’ve flirted in any way possible and dropped billions of hints and he’s still not getting it

one time you even blurt out that you like him out of frustration, but he still doesn’t understand and says, “I enjoy your company too.” it’s so awkward you can’t bring yourself to elaborate on your true feelings

so when you’re at the christmas party in your dorms and see some mistletoe strung up, you know this might be the one thing that works

getting todoroki under that mistletoe, however, ends up being more difficult than you ever imagined

for example, while he’s over at the table getting a piece of cake, you stand under it asking him to grab you a cookie. it would have worked if midoriya, who was standing closer to you, didn’t offer you one of the cookies off his plate instead

after several failed attempts, you just give up and try to enjoy the christmas party

afterwards, you’re picking up wrapping paper that was thrown on the floor during the gift exchange. todoroki is holding the trash bag for you while you pick it up and you hear him say, “I never really understood the point of mistletoe. Do people need an excuse to kiss the person they like?”

Your heart seizes in your chest as you look at him with wide eyes. did he actually know what you were trying to do earlier??

you realize for the first time, however, that you two are standing under the mistletoe and todoroki’s expression is one of genuine curiosity as he looks up at it

this is it. this is your moment

“I don’t know... if you like someone that’s super oblivious to your feelings, it might be your only way to confess”

“would you really do that way?” he asks

“well I'm kinda trying to right now” you admit biting your lip, waiting for the realization to flash across his eyes

“what do you me-” you cut off his words with a kiss unable to keep tiptoeing around your feelings any longer. you feel him drop the trash bag on your feet in surprise, but you smile into the kiss when his lips move back against yours

you may or may not still have to spell out your feelings after the kiss tho

and who’s hoping to steal a kiss from you next year ??

*̣̥☆·͙̥‧‧̩̥❅·‧•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥˟͙☃˟͙‧̩̥·‧•̥̩̥͙‧·❅‧̩̥‧·͙̥̣☆*̣̥

Shinsou Hitoshi Takami Keigo

*̣̥☆·͙̥‧‧̩̥❅·‧•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥˟͙☃˟͙‧̩̥·‧•̥̩̥͙‧·❅‧̩̥‧·͙̥̣☆*̣̥

❄️ MISTLETOE MATCHUPS ❄️

#ok I swear I just didn’t pick tendou bc of your hisoka pfp haha he actually just fit perfectly with your personality and favs !#and him and todoroki aren’t similar at all?¿ but somehow they both just worked #I really hope you like it tho🥺#haikyuu matchups #todoroki shouto #bnha matchup #tendou satori #hisokaslittlepogchamp #answered #mads' mistletoe matchups !!

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morganamysticblog · 4 years

Text

The Royal Romance - The Anniversary - Part 3

Liam awoke early from a restless sleep. He had replayed last night’s conversation over and over in his head. Heather was right, he was becoming his father. He tried to think back to the very beginning, remind himself how things were when they were madly in love. The thoughts and images came flooding back. He remembered when he couldn’t stand to be away from her even for a minute. How he couldn’t take his eyes off her. How his heart jumped every time he saw her. She was his every waking thought, every dream, every fantasy. It wasn’t just love he felt for her back then, she consumed him. His whole reason for being was her. That intensity, that level of love is what he had to get back somehow.

_____

Heather woke up and got dressed. She walked down the hall to Eleanor’s room to wake her up for her breakfast and morning lessons.

HEATHER – Good morning my sweetheart.

ELEANOR – Morning mommy.

HEATHER – It’s time to wake up.

ELEANOR – I’m still sleepy.

HEATHER – I know you are, but it’s time to get up.

ELEANOR – But why?

HEATHER – It’s breakfast time. Then you have your morning lessons. I believe you have reading with Mrs. Fitz today.

ELEANOR – Ok. I guess.

Heather helps Eleanor get dressed then they head downstairs to breakfast. Liam is sitting at the table sipping some coffee and reading a newspaper.

ELEANOR – Good morning daddy!

LIAM – Good morning Ellie. Did you sleep well?

ELEANOR – Oh yes. It was all cupcakes and rainbows. How about you daddy?

LIAM – It was ok. Heather, did you sleep well dear?

HEATHER – Uh, yeah.

LIAM – So what are you plans for today Ellie?

ELEANOR – I have reading lessons today. But can we play later daddy?

LIAM – Of course. What about you, Heather? Any plans for today?

HEATHER – I may go in to town for a bit this morning. I haven’t decided yet.

LIAM – Would you like some company?

HEATHER – I’ll be fine. Thank you. If you’ll both excuse me.

Heather gets up from the table leaving Eleanor and Liam together. She heads back up to her room and calls Drake.

DRAKE – Hey Heather.

HEATHER – Hey Drake. Um…are you busy today?

DRAKE – No. I have the day off actually. What’s up?

HEATHER – Can I come over for a little while?

DRAKE – Of course. You do understand you’re killing my Super Mario Bros. time, but I guess I can put it down for a little bit for you.

HEATHER – Thanks. I’ll be there soon.

DRAKE – Ok. See you soon.

Heather goes back downstairs and asks one of the house staff to bring a car around for her. Liam comes out of the dining room as the servant walks away.

LIAM – I’m sorry about last night. I really did not mean to start an argument.

HEATHER – I know you didn’t. I know you had good intentions. I just think you don’t think these things through all the way.

LIAM – I got excited about the possibility of being able to step back and just be with you. And I didn’t think it through, you’re right. I will come up with something, I promise.

HEATHER – Ok.

SERVANT – Your majesty, your car is ready.

HEATHER – Thank you. Liam, I’ll be back later.

LIAM – I will be here.

Heather leaves and drives to Drake’s apartment.

Drake opens the door for Heather when she arrives. She plops down on the couch.

DRAKE – Rough morning?

HEATHER – The morning has been ok…last night was a whole different story. I can’t take this anymore Drake. I have to get out of here.

DRAKE – So, where do you want to go?

HEATHER – Drake, can I ask you something?

DRAKE – Anything.

HEATHER – Have you ever wondered about me? I mean like my past. Where I grew up, my parents, things like that?

DRAKE – Maybe a little. I just never really thought to ask, I guess. Why?

HEATHER – If I tell you something, do you promise not to freak out or think of me differently?

DRAKE – Uh, ok. Sure.

HEATHER – The times you were in Texas, have you ever heard of a place called North Fork Ranch?

DRAKE – Yeah, I think my mom mentioned it a couple times.

HEATHER – And have you ever heard of Riley Oil?

DRAKE – Vaguely. Why the sudden interest in Texas?

HEATHER – Because that’s where I’m from. Texas.

DRAKE – I thought you were from New York.

HEATHER – I moved to New York when I was 17, my junior year in high school. After…after my parents died.

DRAKE – So you had family there?

HEATHER – No. I just moved. I had to get away and New York always seemed so cool and exciting, so I found a good private school, and I moved.

DRAKE – Ok. I’m still not quite understanding.

HEATHER – Drake, what is my name?

DRAKE – Heather.

HEATHER – My full name?

DRAKE – Heather Riley.

HEATHER – Uh huh…

DRAKE – Riley…Riley Oil…you’re Heather Riley. Oh my God. You’re Riley Oil.

HEATHER – Yeah.

Drake just stares at her for a long moment. Looking at her like he’s seeing her for the first time.

HEATHER – Drake, say something.

DRAKE – I just…wow. Why didn’t you say something sooner?

HEATHER – Everyone was so content with me just being Heather, the broke waitress from New York. So, I went with it. Well, that was me, but not all at the same time.

DRAKE – This explains so much. How you were able to afford all those gowns and events, how you knew exactly what to do and say around the nobles. You’re like American royalty.

HEATHER – Basically. At least in Dallas I was.

DRAKE – Wow. Just…wow.

HEATHER – I’m guessing this changes how you see me now, huh?

DRAKE – Actually…no. I mean, you’re still the same person you were a few minutes ago. Just with a whole lot more money. Holy crap, you’re just as rich as Liam. I mean Riley Oil is worth hundreds of billions of dollars.

HEATHER – Yeah.

DRAKE – Wow. But you’re still so…normal.

HEATHER – Well, I was away from all that for 10 years before I moved here.

DRAKE – True. Huh. Thanks for telling me. Why the sudden interest to share your past?

HEATHER – I’ve been thinking a lot the past few days about going back. Back to Texas. Back to the ranch.

DRAKE – Ah. Does Liam know?

HEATHER – About me leaving or about my past?

DRAKE – Both?

HEATHER – He knows I want to go somewhere, but he doesn’t know where. And you are the only one here I have told about anything from my past. Daniel is the only other person who knows everything.

DRAKE – Oh wow. You trust me that much?

HEATHER – Of course. After everything we’ve been through, honestly I should have told you sooner.

DRAKE – Huh. So, when are you leaving?

HEATHER – I don’t know yet. Soon. Like maybe in the next couple days. I don’t want to use the royal jet because then Liam will be able to track where I went. And it’s not like I can drive there.

DRAKE – True.

HEATHER – I may call the company and see if I can borrow the corporate jet for a couple days.

DRAKE – Well, keep me posted. I can go with if you want.

HEATHER – That would be great, but I think for now I just need to be on my own. Well, just me and Ellie.

DRAKE – I understand.

HEATHER – So…ready to get your butt kicked on some Super Mario Bros.?

DRAKE – Oh…bring it on!!

___

Liam paced the floor in the grand ballroom thinking. Last night’s effort to prove himself to Heather was a complete failure. He needed to do something to show her how much she truly meant to him. Then inspiration hit him. He called for a servant.

SERVANT – Yes, your majesty?

LIAM – I want to plan a surprise for the queen. I’ll need a cake just like the one we had at our wedding. Chocolate mocha with buttercream frosting, designed exactly the way we had our cake.

SERVANT – Of course, sir. When would you like it?

LIAM – As soon as they can get it here. I’ll also need all the peach roses you can get and have them set up here in the ballroom.

SERVANT – Of course. I’ll call the florist right away.

LIAM – And, Heather’s dress she wore at the reception. Could you get that and have it in her room ready for her to wear?

SERVANT – Definitely. I know exactly where it is, sir.

LIAM – And two bottles of our wine that we had at the wedding, chilled with two glasses.

SERVANT – Is there anything else, sir?

LIAM – Music. We’ll need music. And possibly something to eat. I’ve got it…a simple pasta with red sauce for two.

SERVANT – I will start making the preparations right away. When would you like everything set up, sir?

LIAM – As soon as possible. I don’t know how long Heather will be gone and I’d like to have it all ready when she returns.

SERVANT – We’ll have it ready your majesty.

LIAM – Thank you.

Liam clasps his hands behind his back, a small satisfied smile on his face. Recreating their wedding reception, but just for the two of them. Without the kidnapping and threat of imminent death, of course. And the meal they shared together at the Beaumont estate as their first date.

LIAM – Oh…Heather’s sword. We’ll need that as well to cut the cake. If I’m doing this, I may as well go all the way.

About an hour later delivery trucks begin arriving at the palace. Workers bring in vases upon vases of peach roses and line them along the walls of the ballroom. The baker delivers a perfect replica of their wedding cake and sets it up on a table along one side. Liam places Heather’s sword in front of the cakes. Heather’s dress is laying on their bed waiting. The music is ready. Liam has the remote in his pocket. A cook from the kitchen finds Liam pacing in the ballroom.

COOK – The items you requested for the meal are ready your majesty. I can have everything ready in about 15 minutes when you tell us you’re ready.

LIAM – Excellent. Thank you.

Everything was coming together nicely. Now he needed to change. Digging through the closet in the bedroom he found the white formal suit he wore for their wedding and put it on. He headed back down to the ballroom. The servants were finishing setting up. One small table was set up with two chairs. Two taper candles and a small bouquet of peach roses sat on the table. The swirling colored lights glowed and swayed across the dance floor.

SERVANT – Is there anything else you require your majesty?

LIAM – When the queen arrives, could you please make sure she goes straight up to the bedroom and changes into her dress? Then have someone escort her here.

SERVANT – Of course sir.

Liam looked at his watch. It was almost noon. He didn’t want to rush her if she was busy, but he was also getting anxious to show her his surprise. He decided to send her a message to check on her.

TEXT TO HEATHER – My darling, will you be much longer? I wondered if we could have lunch together.

Then…he waited.

_____

DRAKE – Seriously? What is that 10 times you’ve kicked my butt? Ok…I give up. You are the Mario Bros. master.

HEATHER – I told you I was good at this. Not my fault you didn’t believe me.

DRAKE – And here I thought I was your friend, not your whipping boy.

HEATHER – Ha ha ha ha ha. Only when it comes to Mario Bros. How’s that?

DRAKE – Fine. You getting hungry?

(Heather’s phone buzzes.)

HEATHER – Yeah, actually. Ugh...hang on a sec.

Heather checks her phone and reads the message from Liam.

HEATHER – Rain check on lunch? Liam wants to have lunch together.

DRAKE – Sure. Still giving him a chance, huh?

HEATHER – I told him I’d give him 24 hours. He has 3 left. Might as well go with it.

DRAKE – Alright. Talk to you later.

Heather leaves Drake’s apartment and drives back to the palace. She parks the car in front and gets out heading to the door. A servant opens the door for her before she can reach the handle.

SERVANT – Welcome home your majesty. If you would follow me, please.

HEATHER – Um, ok.

The servant leads Heather up to the bedroom.

SERVANT – The king requested you wear the dress laid out for you. When you’re ready I will escort you to the ballroom.

HEATHER – The ballroom? Is there some spontaneous ball I wasn’t informed about?

SERVANT – No ma’am. Just let me know when you’re ready.

HEATHER – Uh, ok.

Heather closes the door to the bedroom and sees her reception dress laying on the bed.

HEATHER – What the heck is going on? Why does he want me to wear this? Hopefully it still fits.

Heather changes into the white sparkling dress. It fit perfectly. She finds some white shoes in the closet and puts those on. She touches up her makeup and fixes her hair a little more formally. Then she opens the door where the servant is waiting for her.

SERVANT – Right this way ma’am.

The servant leads Heather to the doors of the ballroom. She knocks, then leaves Heather alone in front of the large double doors.

Liam opens the door. When he sees Heather standing there in her dress, he almost faints.

LIAM – You look absolutely breathtaking my love.

Heather notices Liam is wearing his formal suit from their wedding. He looks gorgeous…to the point she’s speechless.

Liam takes her hand and leads her into the ballroom. As she scans the room, candles and roses line the walls, a small table for two sits in the center of what would normally be the large seating area. Everything looks amazing.

HEATHER – What is all this?

LIAM – I wanted to surprise you. Happy Anniversary my darling. I know it’s a little late, and I am so very sorry for that.

HEATHER – Liam, this is beautiful. Is that our wedding cake?

LIAM – Yes. I tried to recreate everything. Well, the good parts. I guarantee there will be no kidnapping and no assassination attempts. Only you and me, together.

Liam leads Heather to the table and pulls out the chair for her to sit down. He sits down I the chair opposite her and the cook brings out the two dishes of simple pasta.

HEATHER – This looks like the dinner we had at the Beaumont estate. Our first date you called it.

LIAM – Exactly. I wanted everything to be perfect, just like you.

HEATHER – Liam, this…this is absolutely amazing. I…I don’t know what to even say.

LIAM – You don’t have to say anything. As long as we’re together, that’s all that matters.

When they finish eating, Liam stands and extends his hand to Heather. She takes it and he leads her to the dance floor. He pushes the play button on the remote in his pocket.

LIAM – May I have this dance? (Bryan Adams – Everything I Do begins playing)

HEATHER – I would love to.

Liam holds Heather in his arms as they sway to the music. Holding her so close, he actually begins to feel a little nervous and shakes a little.

HEATHER – Are you ok? You’re shaking.

LIAM – I’m fine. Just a little nervous actually.

HEATHER – Why are you nervous?

LIAM – I haven’t been this close to you in quite a while. Which is my own fault, I know. I just forgot how good it feels to hold you like this. I feel like I did the first time I saw you all those years ago in New York. You took my breath away then, and you still do now.

HEATHER – Liam…

As the song begins to fade they pull apart just a bit. Liam stares down into Heather’s eyes. A soft, sweet smile on his face as he soaks in every feature of her face.

LIAM – You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my entire life. I promise you here and now that I will never take you for granted again. I love you, Heather.

HEATHER – I love you too.

Liam cups his hand on the side of Heather’s cheek pulling her mouth up to him. He kisses her gently, closing his eyes and floating with the touch of her lips against his. His had sliding to the back of her neck, the other around her waist, holding her close, feeling her heart beat against his chest. Heather wraps her arms around Liam as the kiss turns more and more passionate and heated. She begins to grab and bunch up the back of his jacket with her fingers as their tongues touch and swirl together. She lets out a soft moan. After what seems like forever and mere seconds, they part, staring at each other.

HEATHER – There you are.

LIAM – Here I am. And I’m not going anywhere. At least not anywhere without you right by my side, always.

HEATHER – I missed this. I almost forgot how hot you are. And how good it feels to be in your arms and kiss you like that.

LIAM – Me too.

Liam gives Heather a small seductive smirk, then kisses her again, sliding his hands down her back to her hips.

Heather begins to melt into Liam. His kiss reminded her of their first kiss that day in Paris. Heat and desire emanating from him. Her legs began to go weak. The room disappeared around her. The only thing grounding her were his lips and tongue against hers. She hadn’t felt this much intensity, this much desire, this much pure need in a long time. With great hesitation, she pulls away from him, staring deeply into his sparkling brown eyes.

HEATHER – Upstairs…Now.

LIAM – I was hoping you would say that.

Liam grabs Heather’s hand as they leave the ballroom and head upstairs to their bedroom. A servant sees them and begins to say something. Heather holds up a hand to silence the servant as they make their way up the stairs.

Once inside the room, the door is barely closed before Liam practically jumps at Heather, kissing her with such heat, passion and desire that she is nearly knocked over. Their lips parted, tongues intertwined, caressing each other. They each begin working the fastenings of each other’s clothes without breaking the kiss. Touching and rubbing each other’s newly exposed bare skin.

When their clothes have finally been removed and thrown all over the room, Liam holds Heather tightly in his arms, sliding his hands gently down her body from her shoulders, down her back, to her hips and buttocks. A small moan of pleasure escapes him.

Heather slides her hands down the front of Liam, his shoulders, his strong muscular chest, and down further.

LIAM – Oh my God I want you.

HEATHER – Then come have me.

With her hand slowing rubbing and gliding up and down Liam’s hardness, she leads him to the bed. Kissing and running their hands all over each other, he lays her down, then starts kissing her entire body starting with her feet, up her calves, her thighs, then up in between. She arches her back, leaning up into him. The feel of his tongue and lips against her fuels the passion within her even more. She closes her eyes only to see fireworks start going off behind her eyelids. Just as the pleasure is about to overwhelm her, he slides up the rest of her body and slides himself inside of her.

The comfort of feeling him inside her again almost puts her over the edge instantly. Heather wraps her legs around Liam’s waist and he begins rocking his hips against her. They begin moving together as if molded to fit perfectly. The intensity of passion and desire coming together with each thrust. After several minutes Liam quickens his pace readying himself for the release of pure pleasure. Heather joins him and they both let out moans of ecstasy.

Liam slowly lays down beside Heather, holding her close in his arms, her head on his chest. He takes deep breaths breathing in the sweet sensual smell of her. After a few minutes, Heather bolts up in bed.

HEATHER – There was cake downstairs.

LIAM – Yes, there is cake downstairs.

HEATHER – Let’s spring Ellie early from her lessons and have cake.

LIAM – That sounds wonderful.

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