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minisugakoobies · 8 months

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Paradise | JJK - Fourteen

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: smut, neighbors to lovers (not quite friends but not quite strangers), slow burn, love triangle, Stripper!AU

Rating: M (18+)

Warnings: drinking, references to blow jobs that happened like 60 seconds before the chapter starts, Jungkook's a bit possessive, Jin's a bit jealous, mentions of pregnancy, references to sex, 2021 AMAs Jungkook is the wedding visual, special guest stars Woosung and El Capitxn

Word Count: 7.5k

Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own BTS - they just inspire me

Summary: That sexy man on stage - the one currently giving your friend the lap dance of her LIFE - is your super shy neighbor, Jeon Jungkook?!

A/N: Happy two years of Paradise!! 🎉 Two years ago today, I posted the first chapter of what was going to be a five-part series. So to say I can't believe we're here is really no joke!! Thank you to everyone who has read, commented, reblogged, sent me asks or DM'd me about this series - this is all because of you! 💜💜💜

Unbeta'd as usual. Please don’t be a silent reader, I’d love to hear from you! Taglist is open. 💕

Previous Chapter ♦️ Paradise Masterlist ♦️ Next Chapter

Turns out that impulsiveness looks pretty good on you.

Or so you think to yourself, catching your reflection in the mirror of the men’s room as you leave Jungkook to collect himself after giving him the best blow job of his life (your words - although, based on the look on his face as you’d swallowed, you might not be far off).

You hadn’t planned on dragging him into the bathroom like that, but upon seeing him walk out onto the terrace in that grey belted suit, looking like an absolute dream, well, you simply could not help yourself.

You also hadn’t meant to tell him you missed him last night. But you had, because you did. God, when had you turned into this - this massive simp? It was only yesterday morning that you’d woken up in Jungkook’s embrace. You’d barely spent 24 hours apart - so why were you so desperate to get back into his arms?

Of course, none of this matters right now. There are only minutes to go before the ceremony begins, and you need to pull your head out of the clouds and get back to Jennie and the others. Starting by escaping the men’s room sight unseen.

“YN!”

Or not.

As soon as you close the door, you hear Jin’s voice calling to you. He’s standing at the other end of the little hallway, near the entrance to the reception room.

“Hey,” you reply, trying to be the most nonchalant you’ve ever been in your life, as if you weren’t just gagging on Jungkook’s dick in a public bathroom.

Jin smiles as you approach, but there’s a gleam in his eye that makes you nervous, and you’re so busy trying to come up with a valid excuse for why he saw you emerging from the men’s room that you apparently forget how to walk, trip over the hem of your gown, and crash directly against his chest.

“Easy, tiger!” he laughs, arms locking around your back as he helps you stand back upright. “I’m used to ladies throwing themselves at me, but only you’ve taken it literally.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re pretty sure he’s not lying about fighting off admirers, given that he looks like a supermodel in his crisply tailored tuxedo. His bowtie is a little crooked thanks to being squashed by your face during your ungainly landing, so you gently fix it, and Jin thanks you with a soft grin.

“I left my glasses at home, so tell me - did I just see you leav-” Jin suddenly stops in the middle of his sentence, his gaze drifting over your shoulder. “Oh. Nevermind, I see.” He takes a step back, arms falling from your waist.

Another hand slips into yours.

Jungkook didn’t wait very long before following you out of the restroom. He squeezes your hand as you glance at him, but he stares directly at Jin, nostrils flaring slightly, eyes narrowed, lips pursed tightly as if - as if -

Oh, shit.

“You left this behind, jagiya.” Jungkook turns to you, his face shifting into a softer expression as he produces your clutch like some sort of trophy. You must’ve left it on the counter. “Did you want me to hold it during the ceremony?”

Your brain is lagging severely at the moment, trying to process two major facts at once. Fact one: Jin obviously realized that you were with Jungkook in the bathroom. Fact two: you completely forgot to tell Jungkook that Jin would be at the wedding. Which, given the events of the last 24 hours, it’s understandable that it slipped your mind, but this isn’t how you’d expected to officially introduce them. And he doesn’t exactly look thrilled to run into him now.

On top of that, Jungkook has asked you a question. And is now waiting for an answer, while Jin watches in polite silence.

“Um. Yes. Sorry, yes, can you keep an eye on it for me?”

Jungkook nods, tucking the clutch into his jacket and patting it lightly. “Of course,” he says, nodding solemnly, as if you’d just asked him to protect precious goods and not a cheap bag full of tissues and mints.

Jin clears his throat lightly.

“Oh! I’m sorry, Jin, this is Koo- Jungkook. Jungkook, Jin.”

Of all the ways for these two to meet, this might not be the most embarrassing, but it’s definitely up there. There’s still a bit of Jungkook’s taste lingering on your tongue as the two men shake hands, Jin wincing slightly.

You try to quickly fill Jungkook in. “Jin’s the best man.”

“Sure am.” Jin grins.

“He and Yoongi grew up together,” you add, ignoring Jin’s little interjection, knowing that Jungkook didn’t miss it based on the way his jaw flexes violently, as if he’s gnashing his teeth.

“Nice to meet you, Jungkook. That’s quite a grip you have there.” Jin slides his hands into his pockets. “YN’s told me a little about you.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” Jungkook replies, inclining his head slightly. His hand returns to yours, fingers locking firmly. “Wish I could say the same, but YN never mentions you.”

You try to control your face as you look at Jungkook. What did he just say?

Jin just grins wider. “So… she said you’re a dancer?”

“Yeah, I'm a dancer. But I’m also an artist,” Jungkook replies, chest puffing out slightly.

“Yes! You should see his work, Jin. He’s an incredibly talented painter,” you add, and the corner of Jungkook’s mouth twitches, like he’s holding back a smile. “I might actually have a photo on my phone…”

Jungkook doesn’t give you any time to check. “Y’know, I think I’ve heard of you. You’re a cook, right? I think my halmeoni watches your show.”

If Jungkook intended that as a jab, Jin shows no sign that he felt it. “Well, technically, I’m a chef. And a restaurateur. But yes, I do host a successful cooking program - actually, it’s about to be turned into a series for a major network.”

“Right. So like I said. You cook.”

Jin’s the one twitching now, his eyebrow rising slightly at Jungkook’s blasé tone. But rather than looking annoyed, Jin looks amused. Meanwhile, Jungkook is still glowering. You, though? Your smile feels a little strained as you try not to react to the snarky shots being fired off around you. Jungkook seems more rattled than you’d expected by Jin’s presence. You’ve never heard him talk like this.

“You’re right, I do cook a little,” Jin laughs. “I’d like to think I’m pretty good at it. But YN could tell you, since I’ve cooked for her a few times.” He glances at you, the sparkle in his eye you’d noted earlier back and twinkling a little too merrily for your comfort. “From what I remember, she’s been pretty satisfied every time.”

And you’d thought this couldn’t get any more awkward than running into Jin post-beej. How silly of you.

Jungkook’s fingers grip yours tighter. “And yet not satisfied enough to ever bring it up. Huh. Sounds like it was kinda forgettable.”

Jin’s eyes flicker to yours questioningly and you cringe, still struggling to come up with anything to say that could make this conversation less tense. At this point, you’d be better off wishing for the ground to open up beneath you, as useless as your brain is being.

Jin coughs. “Anyway, YN, Yoongi asked me to tell you to tell Jennie that the officiant is running a little late. Nothing to worry about!” he adds hastily upon seeing your concerned face. “Just caught in traffic. But on his way.”

Great, another thing for Jennie to stress out about. “Okay. I’ll let her know.”

Guests are starting to fill up the rows of chairs on the other side of the glass wall. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Lisa heading towards you, waving your bouquet. Thankful for the interruption, you stretch out your hand.

“Come on, we’re cutting it close on time!” she announces. “Hey, what happened to your lipstick?”

“Uh…” Rather than answer, you opt for escape, tugging on Jungkook’s hand lightly to urge him to follow you. “One sec, Lis. Come on, Jungkook, let’s find you a seat.”

“See you at the altar!” Jin calls behind you, and you wince, feeling Jungkook stiffen momentarily.

There’s an empty chair on the end of a row on the bride’s side. Jungkook folds himself into it, placing your clutch delicately on his lap.

“Um, so, we already took photos earlier, so I’ll just come find you after the ceremony.”

“Okay.” Jungkook chews on his bottom lip, nodding.

An unsettling feeling comes over you. Should you apologize for not telling him about Jin? Or say something about what just happened in the hallway? What did just happen, anyway?

Through the glass, you can see Lisa waving, pointing at her watch. Shit. Whatever happened, you’ll just have to talk about it later.

As you turn to leave, Jungkook grabs your wrist. He threads his fingers through yours, pulling you closer to him, until his lips brush your cheek. “See you soon, jagiya.” He gives you another soft smile, sunlight sparkling in his eyes. The angry scowl from the hallway is nowhere to be seen.

Your head is a mess as you follow Lisa. How had you not mentioned to Jungkook that Jin would be here? Damn, maybe he was right - maybe you really never talk about Jin.

Both men had warned you when you started dating them that they could get competitive. Apparently that meant passive aggressive disses and weirdly possessive behavior. If this is how the two of them are going to behave, you’re in for a long day.

A small room cordoned off from the rest of the rooftop restaurant has been turned into the bride’s waiting room. Jisoo’s doing a last pass on Jennie’s makeup when you arrive. She takes one look at you and reaches for a tube of lipstick sitting on the makeshift vanity.

“Babe, what happened to you? You look stressed.”

Rosé hums in agreement. “I expected you to stumble in here looking more satisfied than that. You dragged Jungkook away at lightning speed!”

“Pucker up,” Jisoo orders you, and you obey, letting her fix your lips.

“Mmm, well, I found her talking to both Jungkook and Jin in the hallway, so maybe that has something to do with it?” Lisa pipes up, eyebrow raised.

“Oh shit, did something go down?” Rosé asks, a little too excited for your taste.

“Well, actually,” you start to say, then shake your head. This is the last thing you need right now. This day is too important to be derailed by your love life. “I’m fine. Everything’s fine. Oh, but Jin did say that the officiant’s running a little late, Jennie. He’s on his way, so there’s no need to panic, but the ceremony might start a few minutes later than planned.”

“Oh, see, Jennie? I told you there was no reason to worry - now you’re not the only one who’s late!”

“Jisoo!” Lisa hisses. Rosé covers her mouth to suppress her giggles.

Jennie, who has been sitting silently since you walked in, inspecting her appearance in the makeup mirror, lets out a strangled sound that’s a cross between a laugh and a wail, and buries her face in her hands.

“Girl, please do not make me fix your makeup again,” Jisoo pleads as she crouches next to Jennie. You pull up a chair next to her and sigh, rubbing Jennie’s arm lightly.

“Ji’s lame attempts at humor aside, how are you feeling?” you ask.

Your best friend is absolutely radiant in her white gown, dark hair tumbling in gentle waves down her back as she turns to you.

“I’m still okay. I know things were a little… dramatic yesterday, but really, I’m okay today. You guys don’t have to keep asking me how I’m feeling.” Jennie clasps your hands, giving you a soft smile. “I’m excited and I’m nervous but more than all of that I’m ready to marry the love of my life.” She pauses. “I think maybe I should use the bathroom again, though. I guess I have some time.”

“I’ll help you,” Lisa volunteers, gathering Jennie’s train and following her out of the room.

You’re quiet until the door closes behind them. “Okay, was anyone else expecting her to freak out about the ceremony starting late?”

“She’s keeping it together, somehow,” Jisoo shrugs. “I think she’s still a bit in shock, honestly. But she’ll be okay.”

“She’s fine, as long as no one mentions anything about the you-know-what,” Rosé informs you, crossing her arms as she glares at Jisoo.

“You don’t have to censor yourself when she’s not in the room.” Jisoo rolls her eyes.

Your friends fall into their usual bickering, but you’re too deep in your thoughts about Jennie to bother telling them to knock it off. Maybe Jisoo’s right and she’s still adjusting. Just another reason to try to stay focused on her and make sure everything goes perfectly for her and Yoongi.

It’s the least you can do for your friend, after the day she had yesterday.

Yesterday

Friday morning brings you a sweet surprise. You weren’t expecting to wake up with Jungkook in your bed. He spent most of the night making you forget all about Taehyung’s joking offer to drop to his knees at your promise to help him, doing such a good job that you’d almost forgotten your own name, too. You’d figured he’d slip out in the middle of the night after you’d fallen asleep.

You were wrong. He’s still here, all messy bedhead and sleepy eyes, laughing quietly about alarm clocks and wrapping you up in his arms. He follows you like a puppy as you start your morning routine - into the shower, back into your room, and then into your kitchen - and honestly it’s no wonder that you decide to take the day off to spend it with him. The thought of repeating yesterday and hanging out with him all day is too tempting to refuse. Even though you’ll see him pretty much all day tomorrow at the wedding - look, if he’s down for it, then why not?

And then somehow the universe decides that your day has only been maybe a solid eight out of ten so far and decides to kick it up a few more notches, by offering you a possible life boat off the sinking ship that is your job.

Hey YN!

I know this is ridiculously fast, but my company has an opening, and I think you’d be great for the job! Long story short someone unexpectedly quit yesterday, so now we have a position we need to fill immediately. I hope it’s okay, but I’ve given your name to our VP in charge of hiring and she’d like to bring you in for an interview! She asked me to reach out and see if you’d be all right with coming in next week - I know that’s fast, but this is for a new project that’s being rushed to production so we really need someone to crunch some numbers ASAP!

Let me know if you’re interested!

Best,

Wendy

As if that’s not enough, Jungkook offers to help you practice for the interview, and suddenly you can’t see through the hearts in your eyes. Could he be any sweeter? You thank him, and he kisses you, and you melt, lost in his warmth.

Jungkook’s voice brings you back to reality. “How many more emails do you need to answer?”

“Um…” you stare at your laptop. “Let me just respond to Wendy and then I’m done.”

“Cool.” Jungkook stretches. His t-shirt rises with the motion, his Adonis belt briefly visible, and you know he’s caught your stare when he smirks. You quickly turn back to your computer, but he just wraps his arms around your shoulders, catching you in a back hug.

“I’m gonna go home and take off these dirty clothes,” he murmurs, teeth nipping your earlobe. “Come find me when you’re done. I’ll be waiting.”

“Fuck,” you breath. Jungkook laughs, obviously pleased at the effect he has on you. He’s such a tease sometimes. You’re trying to figure out how to flip the tables on him when your ringtone starts trilling.

Be still, my heaaaaart…

“Oh god, I bet that’s my boss, wanting to talk me out of taking off.” You frown as you check the screen. “Shit, it’s Jisoo. I gotta take this.”

“Hey, do you have a second?” Jisoo’s voice comes through a little strained. And loud. She’s talking over some sort of high-pitched wailing. It takes you a minute to figure out that it’s a person’s voice making that sound.

“Ji! What’s going on? Wait, what’s that sound? Is that Jennie? Is she crying?”

“Yeah, that’s Jennie. She’s - she’s had - well,” Jisoo sighs. “Look, I’m over at her place because I wanted to treat her to a manicure today because I know she’s been too busy to schedule one and you know how she gets about her nails so I thought it would be a nice surprise but when I got here - oh, you know what, this is not important to the story, why am I telling you this?”

“Just get to the point, Ji!”

“I’m trying! I’m sorry, it’s been a big morning and - what?” There’s a muffled conversation happening suddenly, and you stare blankly at your computer as you wait for Jisoo to return. You don’t know what the hell is going on, but you don’t like any of it.

“Just ask her to come over!” you hear Lisa say in the background. Lisa’s at Jennie’s, too?

“I was getting to that!”

With a frustrated sigh, you try to get Jisoo’s attention. “Okay, okay, I’m coming over!”

“Do you mind? I know you have to work-”

“No, I’m not working today, I….” You pause, knowing that Jungkook’s just in the kitchen, likely able to hear everything you’re saying, not wanting to embarrass yourself by admitting that you took the day off just to be with him. “It’s a long story, I’ll explain when I get there.”

You don’t end up explaining anything once you arrive. That’s because as soon as Lisa opens Jennie’s door, she greets you with a tiny white stick bearing two little pink lines. Rosé is right behind her, beaming from ear to ear.

“Oh my god.”

“I know!” Lisa grins, throwing her hands in the air. “Baby Min, coming to you soon!”

You frown, glancing over Lisa’s shoulder. “Where is she?”

The sound of Jennie’s crying gets louder as you approach the master suite. When Lisa stops outside the bedroom closet, you grab her arm.

“Before I go in there - are those happy tears or sad tears?” You’re pretty sure you already know the answer, but you need to know what to expect.

Lisa grimaces. “Somewhere in the middle, I think.”

Jennie’s curled up beneath the hangers of clothing stuffed into the closet that she shares with Yoongi. She’s wearing one of his oversized hoodies, sniffling into the black material as Jisoo, smushed into the corner beside her, carefully untangles herself.

“Tag, you’re in,” she says, taking the hand you offer to pull her to her feet.

There’s not a lot of room for you but you squish yourself in as best you can, and immediately tuck Jennie against you. Jisoo closes the door behind you.

“Hi, babe.”

“Hi,” Jennie’s voice is wavery and small, so far from her usual confident, cheerful tone, that it hurts your heart. “Did they tell you?”

“I saw.”

Jennie settles against you, hiccuping slightly through her tears. “This wasn’t part of the plan.”

“I know.”

Jennie has been mapping out her and Yoongi’s future pretty much since the day they met. They both want to start a family, but Jennie insists that they enjoy their honeymoon period first. And she’s determined to make tenure at the school where she teaches before taking time off to have kids. She wants to have it all, but at her own pace and on her own terms. Which means timing everything out so meticulously. So carefully.

Gently, you brush a lock of hair from her wet cheek. “So… do you know how…”

Jennie sighs. “Pretty sure it was the night of my bachelorette party. I came home and Yoongi asked how it went and um, I kinda couldn’t stop talking about my lap dance.” Your friend’s face flushes at the memory, and you bite back a grin. You’ll have to tell Jungkook he left a lasting impression. “And Yoongi… well, you know how he gets competitive sometimes?”

You can’t help it. You burst into laughter.

“Yoongi gave you a lap dance?!”

“God, I wish I’d seen that,” Jisoo says from the other side of the closet door. “I’d love to know if he’s got moves.”

In all your years of friendship, you’d never known Yoongi to do more than a simple side-shuffle whenever Jennie would drag him onto a dance floor. The thought of him performing an erotic lapdance is too much for even your overactive imagination to conceive.

Jennie just smiles to herself. “Believe me, he does.” She glances at you shyly. “He’d kill me for telling you this but… you don’t think Jin choreographed his routine all by himself, do you?” she laughs, referring to the night Jin danced for you, and your brain breaks a little trying to picture Yoongi doing the same moves.

The closet door flies open.

“I’m gonna need to hear every last detail about that,” Lisa proclaims.

“Same,” Rosé adds, and Jennie laughs for the first time since you arrived. She sits up, dabbing at her face with the sleeves of Yoongi’s hoodie.

“Ugh, my face is going to be so puffy tomorrow.”

“No, it won’t. We’ll take care of you,” Jisoo promises, already on her feet. “I’ll go raid your kitchen for supplies. Do you have any cucumbers?” She’s gone before Jennie can answer, Lisa scrambling behind her.

“Anyway… we always use protection, but you know how they say it’s not 100% foolproof? Yeah, turns out they’re telling the truth.” She stares at her sweater paws, suddenly forlorn again, and you give her a tight squeeze.

“I’m sorry, babe. I know this is… a lot.”

“Yeah. And I just…” You don’t say anything, just wait patiently until she finds the words she’s searching for. “I just feel like a failure. You know? Like, it’s so stupid, but…” She shrugs. “I feel like everything’s ruined now.”

“Oh, Jennie, no!” Wrapping both arms around her, you sigh. “Accidents happen. That’s life! You can make all the plans you want but you can’t control everything. There’s chaos everywhere! And even if you do your best to avoid it, sometimes it gets through. And it’s not always bad! I mean… look at me and Jungkook. He came out of nowhere. I didn’t plan to start dating him and Jin at the same time. I didn’t know it was gonna get serious. I thought…” you trail off, realizing you’re making it about yourself. “Sorry, this is not about me.”

“No, it’s ok, finish your thought. Tangents and diversions are good right now,” Jennie informs you.

You bite your lip, weighing your words. “Back when Jin and I met, when you introduced us, I just thought… this is it. This is my chance to have what Jennie and Yoongi have. Something real. Something safe and steady.”

Jennie nods, encouraging you to continue.

“And then Jungkook… he’d always been so close but I’d never gotten to know him. He came in and opened my eyes to another possibility. To something exciting and different and - and passionate, and, oh god, I sound like a shitty romance novel, don’t I?” Burying your face in your hands, you laugh.

“No, go on!!” Rosé says.

“I’m just trying to say - plans don’t always work out. But that doesn’t mean you’re a failure. And sometimes, the unexpected can be exactly what you want. Or need.”

Jennie sighs, and you can feel her relaxing against you for the first time since you sat down beside her.

“I hear what you’re saying. And I’d like to believe that. It’s just… really difficult for me to accept that I’m not always in control.”

“That’s a fucking mood,” Jisoo says, returning from the kitchen with a mug of tea in her hand. Lisa carries a bowl of some sort of cucumber concoction, and the two of them settle on the floor outside the closet.

Rosé scoots across the carpet until she’s close enough to take one of Jennie’s hands. “Back to your chaos, if that’s what we’re calling it. Is it too soon to ask you what you’re gonna do?”

Jennie groans, pulling the oversized hood over her head.

“I’m gonna take that as a yes.”

“I just want to get through the wedding,” Jennie states, voice muffled by the soft fabric. “I’m getting married tomorrow! And I don’t want anything to - to ruin it. Or make things weird, or more stressful than they already are. I mean, fuck, I think my halmeoni is already upset that we’re not doing a traditional wedding. Imagine if she finds out I got knocked up before marriage!”

“Okay, then we’ll make sure no one finds out tomorrow.” Lisa glances at everyone and you all nod in a wordless pact. “We’ll do whatever it takes to make sure your day is as perfect as you’ve planned. You know we will!”

“Does Yoongi know?”

Jennie peels her hood back to look at you. She shakes her head.

“I took the test this morning, after he left for work. I’ve been so busy lately that I didn’t even realize I was late until today! Ji was the first person to find out when she showed up, and then she called the rest of you.” She pauses, fiddling with her sleeves again. “I think I’m going to wait to tell him until after the wedding. We’ll need to have a serious talk, and there’s too much going on right now.” She glances up. “Is that - do you think that’s okay?”

Once again, she seems lost. This time, when you go in for a hug, Rosé joins you.

“Babe, you can tell him whenever you’re ready! It’s your body.”

“Yeah, but we’re in this together…”

“And you’ll be in it together still, no matter if you tell him today or tomorrow or next week.” Jisoo declares. She holds the mug out to Jennie. “And we’ll be here too.”

“Yes. Maybe this is good chaos. Maybe it’s bad. It’s up to you to decide how to react - how to move forward. Whatever you decide, you know we’ll be by your side the whole time,” you declare, your sentiments echoed by the other girls.

Jennie blows lightly on the steaming drink. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you guys,” she says, choking up slightly, and everyone else starts talking at once.

“You deserve the world!” Rosé coos.

Lisa shakes her head. “We’re the lucky ones, babe, having you in our lives!”

“How’m I gonna depuff your face if you keep crying?” Jisoo tuts.

You just rise to your feet, laughing. “Come on. Ji said something about manicures earlier. Let us pamper you today, so you’re ready to knock Yoongi off his apparently very talented feet tomorrow.”

NOW

The officiant is only a few minutes late, and the ceremony goes off without a single hitch. You and the other bridesmaids join the groomsmen flanking Yoongi at the altar. In addition to Jin, there’s Yoongi’s brother Geum-jae, and two of his friends from work, Yi-jeong and Woosung.

As a string quartet plays the wedding march, Jennie walks down the aisle, beaming more brightly than the sun, and you catch a glimpse of Yoongi’s face, bearing such an openly reverent expression that it makes your eyes flood with tears. The officiant begins his speech, and Jennie and Yoongi stare at one another as if the rest of the world has fallen away, with nothing left but the two of them and their love.

Watching them almost feels like you’re intruding on a private moment, so you turn your face to the rows of guests, searching without thought for Jungkook, smiling when you find him already gazing your way. Your chest nearly buzzes as warmth spreads there, matching the glow in his eyes.

Because Jennie and Yoongi chose to take photos before the ceremony, there’s no cocktail hour after the ceremony. Instead, everyone is seated for dinner. The happy couple sits at a table for two on a small dais in the front of the room.

There are no tables large enough for the entire wedding party. There are also no seating arrangements for all of you, either. Jennie had worked very hard on the seating chart for all of the guests except the wedding party. (“You guys figure it out. I’m tired.”) So you quickly claim a seat at one of the two empty tables left open, with Jungkook taking the spot next to you on one side and Jisoo the other, with Rosé next to her.

As the wait staff brings out the first course, you slide your chair a little closer to Jungkook. “Hey. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you that Jin would be here.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen slightly. “Oh. Jagi, it’s ok.”

“Yeah, I’m not sure it is,” you reply. “That was not the way I wanted to introduce the two of you. It was, uh, not ideal.”

Jungkook’s silent as he sips his water. He works his bottom lip between his teeth again, and you wish you could see inside his head, could get some sense of what he’s thinking, because sitting here waiting for him to say something makes your stomach churn a bit.

Finally, he sighs, reclining back in his seat as he looks at you. “I’m sorry if I made that uncomfortable. I wasn’t expecting to see him.”

“I know. I’m sorry I didn’t mention he was part of the wedding. Truly, it slipped my mind.” Repeatedly. You bite your lip, struggling to figure out what to say. This doesn’t have to be a thing, but you also don’t want them at each other’s throats all night. “But there’s no reason it has to be weird or ruin the night. Because I’m here with you, Kookie. Not him.”

Your pulse begins to pound. It’s like you’ve just laid your heart on the line. Jungkook’s furrowed brows relax, doe eyes blinking slowly as he absorbs your words.

“Is this seat taken?”

You turn to find Jin standing with a hand on the empty chair across from you.

Jisoo lets out a tiny “Yessss, game on,” and you covertly kick her under the table.

“Uh, I think Lisa is going to -” Glancing around, you don’t finish your sentence as you spy your friend sitting with the groomsmen. Oh, right. Lisa has her eye on Yi-jeong, having basically all but explicitly called dibs that morning when she saw him in his tuxedo. You can’t really blame her. “Nevermind.”

“Please, join us,” Jungkook offers, gesturing to the table. He says it so kindly that you can’t help but gawk at him in surprise. He doesn’t meet your gaze, but his palm rests on your thigh, rubbing lightly. Reassuringly.

Your heartbeat returns to normal as Jin smiles. “Thanks.”

Despite the ceremony being so modern, Jennie and Yoongi opted for more traditional dishes for dinner. For several minutes, there’s mostly an easy silence over the table, as everyone enjoys the janchi guksu and banchan in front of them, only the noise of clinking utensils filling the air. Well, that and the sound of the servers running back and forth to the bar, trying to keep up with drink orders.

Jisoo, as usual, is the first one to break the silence.

“Okay, Jin, professional opinion on the guksu?”

Jin chews thoughtfully for a few minutes. “I think they went a little heavy on the spicy soy sauce in the broth, but the noodles are just as tender as the ones I make. Oh, but you’ve had my noodles, YN, what do you think? Do they compare?”

All eyes focus on you, including Jungkook’s. You swallow quickly. “Um, I think these are just as good! And I really like the broth, to be honest.”

“You do like it spicy,” Jungkook murmurs under his breath, quiet enough that only you can hear him, and when you glance over, you’re met with that teasing smirk of his. It’s back again. For some reason, that’s more comforting to you than Jungkook’s hand on your thigh. Your heart does a somersault. It’s getting a real workout tonight.

“You know, I never really thought about it, but it must be hard for you to eat in public. People are probably always asking you for your opinions on their food, or tips on how to make it better,” Rosé says.

Jin shrugs. “Comes with the territory, I guess. I’m not gonna complain if people value what I think - and I’m always happy to help anyone improve their skills.” He swirls his wine glass before taking a sip. “But I suppose there can be a downside, too. Sometimes I just want to enjoy a meal without being asked to provide a full critique.”

“I can understand that,” Jungkook replies. Again the other heads at the table swivel.

“You can?”

Jungkook nods. “Yeah. Like, right now, I bet you’re all expecting me to be the first on the dance floor, right?” He laughs as everyone suddenly becomes very interested in their meals. “It’s okay. That’s how it is whenever I’m out with friends. I can’t just sit at the bar and have a drink. And I definitely can’t just sway with the crowd. Everyone expects me to show off.”

“I mean, I’m definitely hoping to see you turn up,” Rosé confirms, and Jungkook laughs again, gesturing at his point being proven.

“Sure, that sounds annoying. But outside of going out with your friends, how often are you in a situation where you’re asked to dance? People stop me everywhere. When I’m out shopping. When I’m on a plane. I even once had someone ask me for deglazing tips while I was at a funeral! It’s not quite the same as being asked to do the robot at the club.” Jin shakes his head dismissively.

Rosé mumbles, “I thought you weren’t gonna complain…?”

The two men eye each other for a few seconds as you hold your breath. Then Jungkook huffs out a laugh.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. It’s not the same. That sucks, dude.”

You exhale, settling back in your seat.

Jin just hums, eyes darting back and forth between you and Jungkook before he speaks. “I suppose it’s just a small price to pay for being so successful.” He tips his wine glass back, emptying it. “Where are the servers hiding? I need a refill.”

“See, this is one of the benefits of being a financial analyst - absolutely no one wants to talk to me about what I do,” you grin.

“That’s because no one understands what you do,” Jisoo declares.

“She’s right.”

“Thanks, Rosé.”

Jisoo points her spoon at Jungkook. “Okay, but real talk, you are going to dance tonight, aren’t you? You wouldn’t deny us a show!”

“Ji, we just had an entire conversation about this!” you groan, throwing your hands up. “Can you not?”

“What? I’m just saying! The man is a born performer. Right?”

She looks at Jungkook, who nearly chokes on his wine in his haste to answer.

“Uh. Yes?”

“Right. So there’s no way you’ll leave us disappointed.”

“Let me get this straight - if Jungkook doesn’t dance for you, you’ll be disappointed?” you ask. “Hold on while I call Jimin and Taehyung real quick. Wait, sorry, I mean Min and Tae.”

“All I know is suffering,” Jisoo sighs.

“Oh, relax, Kitty Cat,” Rosé giggles, nearly doubling over at the confused look on Jin’s face.

As Jisoo loudly laments her choice of friends, Jungkook bends towards you, mouth brushing your ear.

“Don’t worry, jagi, whether or not I dance here, you can still have a private performance later. I’d never deny you.”

Heat works its way through your body as you shift in your seat, squirming slightly from the low rumble of his voice and the promise laced within. There’s a sudden prickling at the nape of your neck, that nagging sensation of someone watching you, but when you follow the feeling and glance over at Jin, he’s staring at his empty wine glass.

The tapping of a fork against stemware draws your attention to the married couple’s table. To your immense relief, Yoongi and Jennie had decided to nix the best man and maid of honor toasts, opting to say a few words themselves. Normally, Jennie does all the talking for the pair, but to your surprise, Yoongi rises to his feet, and the room falls silent.

“Jennie and I wanted to take a moment to thank all of you for coming. It means the world to us that you took the time out of your busy lives to celebrate with us.” He glances down at his bride, who smiles back, and Yoongi’s gummy grin gets bigger than you’ve ever seen it. “As you all know, Jennie and I have been together since our first year of college. We’ve been through so much together - college, grad school, finding jobs, losing jobs, moving from apartment to apartment - but we weathered it all, because we always had each other.”

Jennie’s cheeks are wet as she smiles at her husband. Yoongi takes her hand.

“Jennie, I don’t know what life has to throw at us yet, but I want you to know that I’m never worried, as long as I have you by my side.” He presses a kiss to the back of her hand, and there’s a chorus of awwww’s from the guests, including yourself. Jisoo rolls her eyes, but they’re already spilling over with tears, and you poke her in the side as she laughs.

“Here’s to you, my love. And to all of you with us here tonight. We can’t thank you enough for your love and support. Geonbae!” He raises his glass.

“Cheers!” his brother shouts, and the cry is echoed around the room as everyone raises their glasses to the couple.

Just when you think you couldn’t be happier, once again you feel a hand slip into yours, pressing palm to palm, fingers threading through. Jungkook doesn’t say a word, too busy clinking his drink against everyone else’s, but his hand tightens around yours when you look at him, and you feel as though you could float right through the ceiling if it weren’t for his strong grip.

To think that you nearly hadn’t asked him to come here with you. What a mistake that would’ve been. Thank god you’d ignored the constant fear and doubt in your head and listened only to the steady sureness of your heart.

You’re getting better at it.

YESTERDAY

After you coax her out of the closet, you and your friends turn Jennie’s apartment into a mini spa, trying to help the bride-to-be relax. By mid-afternoon, as everyone is giving each other manicures, you realize that the window on your day with Jungkook is swiftly closing, so you text him to let him know you won’t be coming home any time soon.

Not long after that, the door to Jennie’s apartment opens, and Yoongi walks in, trailed by Jin.

Jennie greets her fiancé happily, hugging him with her hands held straight out so as not to smudge her pretty new pink tips. “You’re home early!”

“Couldn’t focus. Decided to call it a day.” As ever, Yoongi seems completely unfazed to see you and your friends at his apartment. Sometimes you wonder what it would take to ruffle him. Probably something extreme like the zombie apocalypse. “Figured I’d grab my stuff and then get some dinner with Jin.”

Although they weren’t holding to every tradition, Jennie had insisted that they spend the night before the wedding apart. So Yoongi would be crashing at Jin’s tonight.

Jin nods at the sound of his name. “By ‘get some dinner’, he means ‘take advantage of his friend’s restaurant and score a free meal.’”

“As if you weren’t the one who offered,” Yoongi drawls, ignoring Jin’s squeaky chuckling.

“Sounds good, baby,” Jennie smiles as Yoongi presses a kiss to her cheek before he shuffles down the hallway towards their bedroom. “Do you guys wanna get some takeout?”

While Lisa, Rosé, and Jennie argue about what they feel like eating, Jin catches your eye. “Hey, you got a second?” He jerks his head towards Jennie’s kitchen. Rising from the couch, you follow, closing the door behind you.

“What’s u-oh!” Your question becomes an exclamation when Jin suddenly pulls you in for a hug, long arms wrapping around your waist as he holds you tight.

“Just wanted to get you alone,” he says, nose brushing yours as he smiles. “Hi.”

This is where the butterflies should come in. Standing this close to this incredible specimen of a man, this paragon of perfection, would normally send them flittering through you. Shivers should be running down your spine. Any number of excited reactions should be happening right now.

Right.

Now.

Except… they’re not.

“Hi,” you echo, grinning a bit weakly. Jin doesn’t seem to notice anything wrong with your smile, locking his hands behind your back.

“I heard you got some good news today.”

Your eyes widen as your stomach goes into freefall.

“You know?”

How? How on earth could he know about Jennie being pregnant?? Shit, did Lisa leave the pee stick out somewhere? Jisoo told her to put it -

“Of course I know! It’s my show.”

“It’s your show?” What the fuck does that mean??

Jin honks in delighted laughter at your obvious confusion. “The interview Wendy emailed you about - that’s for my show! The one Nosh picked up?”

The room tilts as gravity returns your stomach to normal. “Oh! Oh, wow!” Of course. The new project Wendy had referenced - it was Jin’s cooking show! “Wait, so we might be working together?”

“Yes! Er, maybe! I don’t know how closely or whatever, but basically, the Nosh execs told me Wendy’s firm is responsible for budgeting and figuring out revenue streams and - and that’s really all I remember, sorry.” He laughs. “Most of what they said went straight over my head, to be honest. But I spoke to her on a conference call today and she told me they had an open position for the team that’s assigned to my show, and she’d asked you to interview.”

“Wow, that’s really…” you trail off, lost in thought. “Isn’t it… the other night at the networking reception, weren’t you saying it might be a travel show?” You have a vague memory of Jin telling you what he wanted to do with his show if it got picked up by a network.

“That’s right. I pitched it as an exploration of local delicacies that often get overlooked by tourists. I’ll be going around the country, visiting tiny, off the beaten path restaurants and bars, and learning how to make their favorite dishes.”

Traveling for work. That was one of the perks Wendy had rattled off when she’d given you the sales pitch for her company. So, if you got this job, did that mean you’d be traveling with Jin?

Your mind is already wandering, thinking about what this new job might entail, when Jin brings a hand up to cup your face. His thumb traces your jawline.

“Wouldn’t it be amazing? You and I, on the road together. Me, discovering new meals to cook for you…” His voice drops, a low murmur meant only for you to hear. “Maybe picking up some new dance moves to show off…”

He rolls his hips slightly, jostling you right out of your tumultuous thoughts.

“Doesn’t that sound good?”

“It does,” you reply, mouth moving on autopilot, not waiting for your head to decide if it agrees.

“I know I haven’t had the time to take you out properly, and I’m sorry for that. But this is my chance to show you that I’m still in this.” He sucks in a deep breath. “I like you. And I’m hoping it’s not too late for me to say that.”

If this were a romantic movie, the music would swell now, strings soaring as he tips your mouth towards his. It’s a perfect moment, lush lips caressing yours, sweet and unhurried, lingering like he doesn’t care if anyone else walks in.

It’s a perfect moment, for sure. Just, not for you.

“Jin,” you begin, stepping out of his embrace, “I need to tell you something.”

A/N Pt. 2: To be continued!! (Sorry, the chapter was getting a bit long and this felt like a natural stopping point… what do we think so far??)

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shieldofiron · 6 months

Note

Hello

But what about Steve who got kicked out by his parents when he came out as bi and somehow made it to California and ends up doing sex work and finds it is something he is good at and having a huge dick is good for something for a change. He also does some high end escort work too cos he knows all the etiquette stuff, thanks to his upbringing.

He's got his regulars, men and women, and a little apartment and there's this golden guy who looks like a freaking god who goes past every morning on a run, super early, when Steve has a coffee on his balcony. Steve starts thinking about him when he's jerking off or when he's with clients, he can't help himself.

And then one day he shows up at this fancy hotel to be some rich guy's escort for the night and it's the guy he's been seeing run past his balcony every morning.

Mr Hargrove, CEO of something.

Anyway, that's what I was thinking about just now while I was waiting for you to tell me the super sad bit of your idea.

The request is kind of weird.

Normally people request him in lingerie, something filmy and sexy that frames his body. When it's not that it's suits, from a casual sports coat all the way to a tuxedo, and he keeps it all in his closet.

"You know what it means?" Angela's gum snaps on the phone.

"Green basketball shorts?" Steve scratched his temple, "Not really. I think I have some from high school."

"Well, if they're tight," Angela said, "And he said sneakers. High white socks."

Steve rolled his eyes, "Okay. Weirdo. Did he say anything about sex acts?"

"Anal," Her gum pops.

"No shit, it's a guy," Steve rolls his eyes.

"He just asked what you looked like, honestly. Wanted a guy with brown eyes, brown hair, real pretty," Angela clicked her long nails against the counter, "Other than the outfit he wasn't too talkative. Sexy ass voice. He requested you specifically. Got all perked up when I said the name. Stephan the King only."

Steve shrugged, "Okay. Whatever."

Most of the time he wasn't too concerned with what his clients wanted. He was flexible in more ways that one, happy to bottom or top or escort them to the opera or just listen. Most of the time, the job was just listening, even during sex. Finding out what people liked and being that came naturally to him. He was good at bullshit, as Nancy would say. He was a great hooker.

He'd made his job bullshit. He got paid an ungodly amount by the hour to spread his legs or spread someone else's, and he was good at it. Hooked up with an agency that specialized in high quality work, and kept the total weirdos away from him.

His roommate Jason Carver had a good hand with the weirdos anyway. He was always getting the odd calls where he had to dress up in costumes and came home to their apartment at odd hours, covered in weird substances, his legs shaky until Steve made him take a shower. Last night it had been grape jelly.

And so here Steve was, not covered in jelly, sitting in a plush hotel room in Malibu with his Hawkins high shorts pushed down his thighs, trying to finger himself and thinking about his favorite spank bank material.

Steve didn't know the guy's name, but he called him the runner. Always running at 5 am, long blonde curls streaming behind him. He looked like the models on the covers of those Johanna Lindsay romance novels, the practically-bondage porn that he'd devoured in high school during sleepless nights.

He imagined the running slowing down when he got to Steve's balcony, his bronze skin gleaming and his blonde beard hiding a devilish smirk.

The smirk may be borrowed... maybe the shorts have him remembering some other sleepless nights in high school.

Steve is loose, last night he was working with a couple, and so he's pretty stretched out, which means he can concentrate on just relaxing, brushing his fingers ever so softly over his prostate as he imagines the runner smirking, his voice a hazy blend of movie stars and devilish California drawling.

He kicks up his feet on the bed, working himself shamelessly in time with his finger's motions. He rolls the tip of his pointer over the small nub of his prostate while he works a fourth finger inside.

The alarm on his watch goes off and he makes a winded noise, halfway between a whine and a groan. He was just getting to the good part of the fantasy, where the runner would position him, ass up, over his tiny Venice balcony and eat him out like he was trying to make Steve cum before the dawning of the apocalypse. He would rub his face all over that golden beard, ride him like a stallion. Steve rode his fingers through one more wave, heat crashing down his spine, before he pulled out, tugging up his shorts over his painful erection and rushing to the bathroom to wash his hands and check his hair.

He didn't have to do all this prep but it made his job more enjoyable. Most clients didn't want to go through a lot of foreplay, obviously. But he did like coming too, and it wasn't like he was taking ten clients a night. Might as well have fun.

He was all positioned on the bed when the guy came in. Ready for the masc fantasy, legs spread, his arms on his knees. His dick was lewdly outlined by the tiny shorts, but he guessed they weren't going to the opera so that should be okay.

"In here," He called out, holding his breath until the guy came around the corner.

That devilish smirk fell right to pieces.

"Harrington," The man gasped, the word more breath than it was noise.

"Billy??"

"What are you doing here? Is it Max? Is she okay?" Billy's face is vulnerable, pale under his golden beard.

Steve thinks of the last time they'd seen him, driving off into the dead of the night while Max had cried. She'd begged for Steve's help to move Billy out, and the last he'd seen of Billy Hargrove it was just him chuffing Max on the chin, telling her to be brave.

"She's okay, I..." Steve shook his head, "I'm just here to meet a client."

"Client..." Billy ran a hand over his eyes, and then dropped it over his mouth.

"Yeah, sorry, they must have given me the wrong key at the front I'm supposed to meet-"

"Killian Handcock?"

Steve froze.

"Yeah," Billy sighed, "That's me."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Look, sorry for all this. I'll pay, of course, for your time," Billy began to dig in the pocket of his suit jacket.

"No, whoa, it's okay," Steve waved his hands, "It's okay."

"Obviously, you wouldn't-"

"We can still-"

Billy blinked at him.

"I just mean. It's fine, right. We know why we're here," Steve glances down at his outfit, "You really didn't know it was me?"

"Fuck," Billy dragged a hand down his face, "This is so fucking humiliating."

"No, really," Steve chuckled, "What high school crush am I supposed to be?"

The words are out of his mouth before he's fully able to think them through. It's all obvious later but in the moment, he's thinking of all the guys in their school with brown eyes... brown hair... real pretty...

Billy moves towards him, his face flashing angrily, and then he rears back, nearly slamming into the giant tv that dominates the far wall.

Startle response, Steve remembered from when Billy came back. If he so much as put his hands towards someone he would flinch, remembering what the Mind Flayer made him do.

Steve wasn't being a very good hooker. He wasn't listening. Wasn't thinking.

"You know," Steve sat back on the bed slowly, no quick movements. "I used to read these romance novels in high school. Kind of cheesy, definitely NOT always with the best consent. But... sometimes they'd have these tough guys, kind of take charge guys. And I used to imagine you... taking charge of me."

Billy just blinks at him like a deer caught in the headlights.

Steve spread his legs, just casually.

"Is that what you used to imagine too?" Steve asked.

"Maybe," Billy says in a cracked voice.

"Tell me," Steve urged.

It takes Billy a moment, fumbling with his fancy wool jacket. He hasn't flashed the cash yet, but Richard Harrington's son recognizes an expensive suit when he sees it. Billy's got the money to pay.

Not that Steve's thinking much about payment when Billy starts talking, in that movie star drawl.

"Wanted you to fuck me. Me to fuck you. Wanted to turn you inside out and shake you like pants at the laundromat," Billy whispered, "See what falls out."

Steve bit off a moan that wasn't practiced, wasn't planned. They haven't touched for years. Not since after Starcourt, careful touches around Billy's healing body, friendly, boyish nudges. Nothing like this.

"Wanted to touch you," Billy's face is so raw with longing, blue eyes sparking, it's almost hard to look at, "Touch you all up and down those long legs. Wrap you around me like a scarf. Keep me warm. Indiana's cold as shit and you always looked so warm."

Steve spread his legs further, "I run hot."

Billy reached back and undoes his hair, and it's only as it streams down his shoulders that Steve realizes, almost chuckling if it wasn't for the open, bare way Billy's looking at him. Like Steve is some kind of dream come true.

And the thing is that Steve's a happy hooker. He's not looking for any pretty woman ending.

But... you know sometimes he imagines. Imagines a guy with long blonde hair pulling him close after sex and calling him honey, baby, sweetness.

Billy takes a step forward and Steve smiles at him.

"I'm assuming you don't want me scared, or nervous," Steve runs a hand up his knee.

Billy shakes his head.

"Boyfriend experience," Steve offers, but it doesn't sound like a question, because he's not asking.

Billy's telling him, in the trembling hand that finally finds it's way to Steve's knee, the heavy swallow when Steve tips his head back, letting Billy into his space.

Steve knows. He's listening.

"This a... you have rules..." Billy's voice is gruff, low. Barely heard over the hum of the ac and the distant traffic from the street below.

"I kiss," Steve cocks his head to the side, "I do just about anything. For you."

He runs his hand over the back of Billy's, just tracing the road map of his veins. The long route that led them both here.

"Billy," Steve breathes.

It was just like he imagined Billy Hargrove would kiss. Hard and rough and desperate, like they were about to be ripped apart. Maybe they were, because Steve was clinging too, and it wasn't bullshit. He was shocked to find it was true, every word of it.

He fell open on the bed, half smothered by Billy's bulk, and he reveled in it, wrapping his legs around Billy and tugging him until his full weight pressed Steve to the bed.

Billy broke their kiss with a rough pant against Steve's lips, "Don't wanna crush you, Pretty Boy."

Steve urged, tugging Billy harder, "What a way to go."

Billy's laugh felt different close up, and his beard was softer than it looked, tickling Steve's face. His kiss was hot, and he sank into Steve like a hot knife through butter.

Steve was used to having to work himself up, he forgot what a revelation it was to just kiss. They rolled around together like they invented it, gasping at tugging nips and sucked tongues like they had never done this shit before.

Billy cradled his face like he was trying to memorize it, barely even dry humping him.

And Steve was losing it a little, because the boyfriend experience never felt like this. Never felt like years of knowledge and a "be brave, shitbird."

Never like this.

He undressed Billy like his life depended on it, running his hands up and down Billy's scars and feeling like he could cry, or laugh or something. Somehow, Billy was now the slow one, holding him carefully, like Steve might break. And Steve was the animal, the cyclone, kissing Billy hard, rubbing up on him like a cat in heat.

Because it was Billy, Billy Hargrove, and he was murmuring about honey and sweetheart, and he was begging Steve in soft words to just, "let me take care of you, that's all I want. Want to wrap those legs around my head and drown in 'ya, Harrington."

Steve shook his head, trembling when Billy rolled his hands around Steve's cock through the shorts, pulling Billy closer with his legs.

"I'm ready," Steve whispered, "Want you inside of me. Please, Billy, let's not wait."

"M'Pretty Boy," Billy whispered back, sounding tortured. His brows were drawn up as if in pain, and he cradled Steve's cheek in one hand.

"Billy," Steve pulled Billy back by that long gorgeous hair, "Just fuck me. Please, God, I really want you to fuck me, please."

Billy had a slightly troubled look, but he nodded, tugging at Steve's shorts with gentle hands, chuckling softly when Steve reaches down and yanks them off roughly, losing them in the rumpled bed instantly.

Steve just rolled his legs up, not wanting to part before he gets into position and-

"Condoms," Billy gasped, his eyes jolting to Steve's face.

"Yes... fuck... sorry, yes, I have some, they're on the nightstand."

It's like dousing them both with ice water. Billy pulls back, looking at Steve and then looking down.

They sit there a moment.

"I want you to know," Billy said in a cracked voice after a long pause, his back to Steve. "I'm not a creep. I haven't thought of you in... in a long time. I don't like... hire guys and make them pretend to be you or nothing like that. I just..."

Steve waits, just listening. After a while he reaches a hand out and putting it on Billy's shoulder, rubbing slightly.

"I'm not a creep. I'm not gonna follow you home and t-throw you in a trunk or something-"

"Stop," Steve said, rubbing Billy's back in slow circles. "I don't think that."

"I just mean.... I'll pay," Billy said it gruffly, "If you have another client tonight, you gotta rush, that's ok. But if you have the night, I'll pay."

Steve looks down, catching a glimpse of Billy's hands, tangled together in his lap, holding the condom that he grabbed from the bedside table. He's just as beautiful as he used to be, maybe more so. He's got a layer of fat over his muscles that makes him look softer, his hair is long and soft, and even the beard, it takes away all his rough edges.

"I don't have to rush," Steve said. "Why'd you have me dress up, Billy?"

"I just saw someone, the other day. Been seeing him. In Venice. This guy, he's always wearing these loose robes and he hangs out on his balcony in the morning," Billy bit his lip, "Sometimes with a blonde guy. Boyfriend or something. Anyway, he kinda looks like you. And my boyfriend dumped me like a year ago, because I'm still a total freakshow. Issues on issues on issues. So I thought, fuck it. Why don't I just... be the freakshow I am."

"You're not a freakshow."

Billy chuckles, "Trust me. I am. Pining after a high school... nothing. You didn't even like me."

"I-"

"Don't pretend," Billy looks at him, eyes glistening, "Don't you bullshit me, Harrington."

"I'm not," Steve says, heart in his throat. "I'm not bullshitting. Haven't been from the moment you walked in here."

Billy says nothing, just looking at him.

"I don't have to rush," Steve shook his head. "And if tomorrow, you just leave, and there's money on the stand... that's totally cool. But I'm rushing because... because..."

Billy just watches. Listens.

"Because I'm really glad to see you again, Billy. Really glad. And I wouldn't mind," Steve steels himself for rejection, sucking in a breath. "Seeing you after tonight."

Billy's brow furrows, and he looks down at his hands again.

"Like... maybe for real. And I can wear actual clothes. And no one has to pay anyone. And I'll know who you are. You'll know who I am. And I'll take you back to Venice to meet my roommate, who you already fucking know, I think."

Billy's blinking hard, and it takes Steve a moment to realize he's crying.

"Billy," He whispers, "Honey. Sweetheart."

Billy reaches out and cradles Steve's cheeks, pulling him into his lap and then into a kiss.

"I don't think you're a creep, Billy," Steve wraps his legs around Billy, and holds him safe and warm, "I know you. I know you."

Billy makes a wounded noise, like he doesn't know if that's a good or a bad thing. But then he starts running his hands down Steve's chest, tugging on his chest hair and rolling his nipples between his fingers, and Steve goes kind of cock dumb and wild again, rolling his hips, seeking to get closer. He wants Billy to press him to the bed, crush him with his weight.

It's just a happy blur, punctuated by moments of crystal clear sweetness. Billy presses his cock inside of Steve after a long, leisurely, lovely trip between Steve's legs. It turns out his tongue really is magic like the girls used to write on the bathroom walls. Steve's heart is beating like a jackhammer and he's sweating like he did so long ago in high school, his hair flopping in his face as Billy drives into him hard.

"You used to look so fuckin' cute in these little shorts," Billy growled, "Put them on again. Wanna push them to the side, get you all fucked out and gorgeous. Want you to cum in them, pressed all up against the waistband."

And maybe Jason's rubbing off on Steve because he does, slides the somewhat wrecked shorts over his sweaty ass and flops back on the bed. He practically presents his ass on a Hawkins green platter, moaning all slutty.

"Used to dream about them every night," Billy rubs him through the shorts, "Used to think about you in the hospital. When you would wear that fucking family video vest and come drive Max. You got me through physical therapy."

Steve looked over his shoulder, still working his ass back on Billy's cock, "I still have the vest."

"Fuck... fuck..." Billy actually covers his face with his hands, "Is this real? This is real right, not fake bullshit?"

Steve's literally got a cock in his ass, and it's normally not how he does stuff, but he looks back, because seriously?

"Billy. I said I wanna see you? I like you? Now can you please keep fucking me, I'm so close."

Billy finally smiles that smile, that devilish grin, "At your service, Sweetheart."

And then he rocks his hips up and back in a way that presses right against that sweet spot that makes Steve see stars. He cums so hard it does soak into the shorts like Billy said, and Billy rubs it in messily, groaning and pressing his head to Steve's back.

Steve goes boneless on the bed, not even moving when Billy pulls his softening cock out and gets up.

There's a moment when Steve's heart skips a beat that he thinks Billy's gonna slap down an envelope of cash and ask him to leave. And that would be fine. Could be totally fine.

But instead he tugs the covers back and helps Steve under, wrapping his arms around Steve and holding him close to his heart.

"You meant that, about seeing me again?" Billy says softly.

"Yeah, weren't you listening?" Steve plays with the silver medallion that hangs across Billy's collarbone.

"Yeah, I was listening," Billy kisses Steve's temple softly, and Steve's heart flutters like a cartoon duck. "How about we start with breakfast tomorrow. I got a good amount, let's give someone the tip of their life. And I think you need waffles. Pancakes. Whatever the hell you want."

Normally, Steve would call bullshit. But Billy's got a Cartier tank ticking where he tucks a sweaty lock behind Steve's ear. And he knows Billy. He trusts him.

Steve tugs on the necklace until Billy gets the hint and draws him into another filthy kiss.

Steve's normally a pretty good hooker. He's not looking for a Pretty Woman ending.

But it turns out he's a bit of a sucker for the boyfriend experience.

---

This got WAY long. I'll proably put it up on ao3. @intothedysphoria and @dragonflylady77 be proud of me plz.

#asks #harringrove #my writing #shieldofiron #SW Steve Harrington #Billy Hargrove #Billy x Steve #Steve x Billy #bratty steve harrington #bear billy hargrove #otter steve harrington

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petriquors · 9 months

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POV: someone joins you on the balcony

You hate that your boss made you attend this charity gala while she’s on vacation. It’s her job to rub elbows with Gotham’s elite, not yours, and she did nothing to prepare you for all this small talk before jetting off to Bali with her beau of the week.

You finish your drink and fantasize about quitting.

With their stifling conversations, stuffy outfits, and barely edible teeny portions of food, formal events like this are absolutely suffocating. All you need is a minute in the fresh air. So, toward the end of cocktail hour, you indulge in your compulsion to see if the balcony door you spotted earlier is unlocked.

It opens on the first try.

It’s not a particularly large balcony, but you’re grateful that there’s no one out here but you. You close the door gingerly, leaving behind the metaphorical veil that makes you look and act like the perfect party guest by obscuring everything about you that makes you a real person.

For a blissful interlude, it’s just you, the moonlight, and the distant sounds of the city. If you close your eyes, you think you can hear your real life: the subway, late night pizza, binge-watching a show on the sofa you got off of an online buy nothing group.

“Is this balcony taken?”

You quickly turn your head to see the man who just intruded on your solitude. He’s perfectly average in all the right ways—average height, nice athletic build, dark hair, blue eyes, a navy tuxedo so dark it’s almost black. There’s a certain air about him, a hint of the unknown, a something-special that you can’t quite name. It’s as if all his pieces, while unremarkable on their own, fit together to create a breathtakingly beautiful puzzle.

And, since he’s already halfway out the balcony door, something compels you to say, “There’s room for one more.”

He’s careful to close the door instead of letting it swing shut. While he does, he looks at his hand on the gleaming brass handle as if he’s mentally cataloging which parts of himself are staying in the ballroom and which are coming outside with him. After a moment, his arm goes lax, his hands slide into his pockets, and he steps into the moonlight beside you.

“I don’t know,” he says through a crooked smile. “There’s a whole lot of brooding out here. Are you sure there’s room?”

You give him a sidelong glance as the corners of your mouth pucker, fighting a smile. You’re supposed to be moping, not…whatever this is. “What do you have to brood about?”

He grips the railing of the balcony and leans back hips-first, stretching out his arms and craning his neck to look out over the city. His body’s here, but his mind is miles away, maybe even in another universe. “The debilitating weight of other people’s expectations, eldest child syndrome, and a pesky fear of commitment.”

There’s a beat of silence during which you just blink at him. Then, he glances at you and his crooked grin is back, but there’s something pensive underneath the easy smile. It’s impossible to tell if he’s being facetious or brutally honest, but there’s a darkness in his eyes that says he’s trying to laugh through the pain.

He breaks the silence with a chuckle. “Sorry. I shouldn’t only talk about myself. Why are you brooding all alone?”

You pluck the little name tag you’re supposed to be wearing out of the pocket you shoved it into. It has your boss’s name, not yours. “My boss is sipping cocktails on the beach with a man half her age, and I’m here.”

“Wow, that is such a universal experience,” he teases in a monotone. It’s then that you notice he’s not wearing a name tag either. “Why didn’t you just say no? You’re busy. You have the stomach flu. You have a phobia of weird canapés.”

That smile you’ve been holding back finally appears on your face. “Because of the debilitating weight of other people’s expectations and eldest child syndrome. Also, I need to pay my rent.”

He catches on to what you’re doing immediately. His eyes sparkle like the stars and his face brightens like the moon, reflecting the light that you’re giving off. “So you don’t have a pesky fear of commitment?”

Yes, you think. No. Maybe. Honestly, it’s been so long since you’ve been with anyone that you have no idea. What you do know is that something is happening to you on this balcony right now, and you hope it’s happening to him too.

Time seems to slow down, and both of you watch as his hand closest to you loosens, then shifts half an inch toward yours. You extend a pinky. He extends his in response, keeping only a centimeter of space between you like an unspoken promise.

You sense a kinship with him unlike what you’ve felt with anyone else tonight—or maybe ever—so you have to ask, “Who are you?”

Your mystery man presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek as if you’ve asked him what the meaning of life is. Deftly, he dodges the question. “The most exciting part of your night?”

“Uh-huh,” you deadpan. “And does he have a name?”

His grin widens. “Yup.”

Your heartbeat quickens. He stares at you with an intensity that makes the cosmos quake, and you stare right back, speaking a thousand words while saying nothing at all.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” he jokes, and you can’t believe that an overused pun makes you short with laughter. “I’m Dick Grayson. Now you: what should really be on that name tag?”

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #nightwing x reader #nightwing x you #my stuff #my fluff #my dick grayson stuff #my dick grayson fluff #my batfamily stuff #my batfamily fluff

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d-targaryenshoe · 3 months

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Achieved Love - Luke Thompson

Word count: 877

Summary: What is more delightful than accompanying your lover to an award show and watching how he achieves something with love?

The Bafta award show was in full swing when you finally arrived, the atmosphere electric with anticipation and excitement.

Paparazzi flashbulbs exploded like popcorn around you as you both made your way up the red carpet, your boyfriend Luke Thompson known as the dashing 'Benedict Bridgerton' was nominated for the EE Rising Star Award this year.

Looking dapper as ever in his tuxedo, his arm firmly wrapped around your waist. You felt like a princess on a fairytale evening, your dress hugging your curves in all the right places, the diamonds at your neck and wrist sparkling under the bright lights.

As you approached the interview area, a sea of eager reporters and camera crews jostled for position, their questions and comments flying through the air like confetti.

Luke smiled reassuringly at you, his blue eyes twinkling beneath his perfectly coifed hair, before turning to face the throng of media with a practiced ease that belied his years.

"How does it feel to be nominated for such a prestigious award, Luke?" asked one reporter breathlessly, her microphone inches from his face.

"Well, it's a huge honor, of course," he replied, his voice smooth and confident.

"But at the end of the day, I'm just grateful to be here, surrounded by so much talent. I'd like to dedicate this nomination to my family, my friends, and of course, my girlfriend," he added, squeezing your hand before looking back at the reporter.

"Without their support, I wouldn't be where I am today."

You felt your cheeks flush with warmth at his words, and as you looked up at him, you could see the love and admiration shining in his eyes.

You exchanged a brief, sweet kiss before moving on to the next question.

The rest of the interview flew by in a whirlwind of questions about the upcoming season of Bridgerton, his favorite category of the night, and his thoughts on the other nominees in his category.

Throughout it all, Luke was charming, articulate, and gracious, leaving a lasting impression on everyone he met.

Finally, you were able to break away from the media frenzy and make your way into the venue proper.

The grand ballroom was a breathtaking sight, with towering chandeliers casting their warm glow over rows of gleaming tables set with crisp white linen and sparkling crystal.

Celebrities from all corners of the film industry mingled amongst the guests, their designer dresses and tuxedos making a dazzling display.

As you scanned the room for your seats, you felt a sudden surge of pride in your boyfriend.

Not only was he talented and handsome, but he was also so genuine and kind-hearted.

You knew that no matter what happened tonight, whether he won or not, he would always have you by his side, and that your love would only continue to grow stronger.

Just then, a waiter passed by, carrying a tray of champagne flutes. You reached out and took one, offering it to Luke with a mischievous smile.

"To winning," you toasted.

"or losing," you added with a wink.

"and most importantly, to having each other through it all." He laughed, raising his glass to meet yours, and you clinked them together before taking a sip.

The awards ceremony began soon after, with the host taking the stage to welcome everyone and set the tone for the evening.

As the first award of the night was announced, your stomach did a little flip-flop when you realized that Luke was among the nominees.

His category was the last one to be presented, and as the golden envelope was slowly opened, the anticipation in the room grew almost palpable.

Finally, the announcer spoke his name, and the crowd erupted into cheers.

Luke jumped to his feet, looking stunned and overwhelmed, kissing you deeply before making his way up to the stage.

As he reached the podium, he took a deep breath and looked out over the audience, his emotional eyes meeting you briefly before he began to speak.

"I want to first and foremost thank my Bridgerton family, the crew, the screenwriters, the whole Netflix team, and the Bafta committee for this incredible honor," he began, his voice steady despite the thunderous applause.

"And I want to dedicate this award to the most important person in my life, a few years ago on this day I met one of the most talented people on an auditioning day, for a role in one of the most popular Netflix shows that changed my life."

"I want to thank my girlfriend, y/n y/l/n. She's been my rock, my inspiration, my home, my safe place, and my greatest supporter through all of this. I love you, y/n, more than anything in the world."

Tears pricked at your eyes as you listened to him speak, your heart swelling with pride and love for him.

He went on to thank his family, his friends, and his agents before sitting down amidst thunderous applause and a standing ovation.

As he made his way back to your table, you couldn't help but feel that no matter what happened from here on out, you would face it together and that your love would only continue to grow stronger in the face of whatever life threw your way.

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lumiconic · 8 months

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“ all i see tonight ”

✧ slow dancing at a party with 6REEZE (not a sequel to 'if you'd say you love me' just in the same setting!)

✧ kunikuzushi, venti, kazuha, heizou, aether, xiao ; idol au ; not proofread

request from @darthvada ! i hope you enjoy and once again sorry for the wait :'))

the lights are swirling above you, beaming a blue and white glow upon kunikuzushi's scowling face. it's almost enough to make him look pretty, with his sharp, feminine features and expensive suit matching his shiny dark hair, but the perpetual look of fury on his face always ruins what could otherwise be a contender for the role of main visual.

"why do we have to do this, exactly?" he grumbles, swiping his blunt bangs off of his forehead. even his motions are angry, you think with a wry smile, and he seems to take that personally, narrowing his eyes. "what's funny?"

"nothing," you say, shrugging slightly. "and... i mean, no one's forcing you to, but it's supposed to be a party. we're here to celebrate you guys!"

"whatever." he cuts his eyes towards heizou, dancing with a pretty green-haired girl in a purple tuxedo. "look at him. how does he not get embarrassed when he's so obviously trying to show off?"

"i don't think heizou ever gets embarrassed," you say dryly, placing one hand on your hip and tilting your head. "seriously though, if you don't want to dance, you can go home. i'm sure xiao has already taken his leave."

"no," he says quickly. "that's fine. i'll just stay here until everyone else is done. i don't really wanna walk home in the dark." you nod, shifting your attention back to the others. as the lights pass on and off of your face, throwing you into sharp clarity and then blurry shadows, kuni resists the urge to look, just to watch the way it reflects off your face like you're underwater.

the two of you stand in silence, both watching the couples dancing. it's so hot in here, kuni thinks, pulling his collar away from him as he wipes sweat off his forehead. he really should have gone home by now. why is he even still here?

maybe because you look so pathetic, standing here on your own. yeah... pathetic. lonely, even. that sounds right. it would just be rude, not to mention boring to go home at this point. he shoves his hands into his pockets, looking down at the floor.

"um, kuni," you start. he blinks, looking over at you. there's a faint flush on your cheeks. "would you dance with me, maybe? it could be more fun than just standing here, right? only if you want to." you extend your hand, your lips slightly pursed as you wait for a response.

once again, you look so pathetic holding out your hand like that. he stares at it for a second. he can see that your nails need clipping, the gleaming gold polish chipped. he can't possibly refuse -- the expression on your face is so earnest, so hopeful, and -- anyway, he doesn't want to risk offending the person in charge of all his deals.

he hesitates for barely a second, then says, "okay. fine." as he takes your hand and you move slowly towards the center of the room, he's sure you can feel how sweaty his palm is, which makes him want to snatch it back instantly. there's something so embarrassing about the idea of you being able to feel his nervousness.

wait, no, it's not nervousness, because he's not nervous! it's just because it's hot in here. that's all. and of course it's hot, with all the people crammed into the room, and why is he here again? just because he didn't want to hurt your feelings? it's so ridiculous, the way his brain is going into overdrive over nothing at all. why is he always like this around you?

seemingly not noticing his dilemma, you say, "here, you lead", gingerly guiding his hand to your hip, and his face bursts into color. he dips his head, trying to hide it from you as you continue to fix your position. "have you ever done this before?"

"no," he manages to get out, clearing his throat. "no, i haven't. is that -- is that a problem?"

"no, that's fine," you hum, in the same calm, reassuring tone you usually use towards him. from anyone else, it would only aggravate him more, but it's different somehow. "technically, i should lead since i have more experience, but you're a bit stronger than me -- "

he smirks, and you glare. "a bit, i said, and it's only because you do more training. anyways, it'll be easier with you leading. just follow what the others are doing, and i'll tell you if you need any help. okay?"

he nods without answering. you almost ask if he's nervous -- his fingers, interlaced with yours, are clenching so tightly that it nearly hurts -- but that might lead him to refuse dancing entirely, and his eyes, softening into an almost gentle focus as you begin to sway back and forth, are shining so brightly under the lights.

after a few minutes, his instincts from years of dancing seem to take over, and he starts to time your movements to the quiet classical music being played in the corner of the room. a step with a loud chord from the piano, a sweep of his arm as the violin crescendos. it's easier and easier to follow his lead.

of course, he had no reason to be nervous. his arrogant exterior makes it hard to believe it sometimes, but he's so talented. sometimes, it takes your breath away.

"this isn't so bad, right?" you ask. he takes a moment to respond, shaking his head as if coming out of a dream. "i mean... i don't hate it, but it's not my thing." his response is typically clipped, said with an edge, but it doesn't quite feel the same as usual. maybe it's the tight grip he has on your arm, as if he's afraid you're going to slip away.

"oh, it's not fun?" you say, slightly disappointed. "sorry, i thought you might enjoy it. since dancing is your thing, and all."

"not this kind of dancing," he says, a small grin on his lips. the usual kuni smile, more of a smirk than anything. "but it's fine. i'm starting to get it."

"naturally." you smile back, and his eyes glimmer just a bit brighter.

the violin player goes into a solo, notes climbing higher and higher, and he steps sideways, pulling you into an unexpected twirl. you follow without hesitation, spinning on your heel, easily able to keep your balance with his firm grip above your head.

"don't trip," he says as soon as you regain your footing, grinning with your hair falling over your face, and you're about to ask what he means when in a heartbeat, you plunge into a dip.

the position is so fragile, like both of you could fall with one finger. one hand on his shoulder and the other clasped in his palm, and the world snaps into clear focus as you stare into his eyes. his eyebrows are furrowed as if concentrating on something; you can feel your heart pounding in your chest.

and then he smiles, features just as sharp and cold as ever, and you think for the thousandth time, he always looks so angry. but, then -- with his teeth gleaming, one of them sharp as a fang, and his hair hanging over his eyes -- just then, it doesn't feel like the emotion gleaming in his eyes is anger. or even anything less than joy.

the hand clutching yours feels too warm for that.

it's odd enough that venti isn't wildly parading around in the midst of everyone else to show off his outfit, even moreso that he's not dancing at all. you've been looking for him for a while now, but when you finally find him standing against the wall, playing his violin with the rest of the orchestra, you're so surprised your jaw drops."haha, what?" he asks, still playing as he focuses in on you. "is it really that shocking?"

"i-i mean, i didn't know that you even played the violin," you sputter. "i thought you played the lyre? that old harp thing?"

"i used to take lessons when i was younger." venti shrugs with a smile, finally setting the violin down with a nod to the other orchestra members. "i wanted to join in, since i had no one to dance with... " he sighs, batting his eyelashes as he looks at you.

you roll your eyes, but laugh, turning and stepping towards the other people dancing. "okay, okay. i got it." he follows eagerly, flitting beside you like a bird; his footsteps are always light, gentle and soft as though he's being carried on a breeze. he's not the dancer that kuni is -- not even close -- but he has his own charm, all the same.

"so, how are you feeling about an entire party, just for you?" you ask, settling into a spot away from the thicker parts of the crowd. "well, not you specifically, but still. this is pretty impressive, even for 6REEZE. you've just been climbing higher and higher, lately."

"i like to believe it's just for me," he says, winking, and tucks his arms onto your shoulders. you blink at the sudden contact, goosebumps running up your arms, but -- it's just venti. that's just how he is. always attached to someone; clinging to heizou's elbow as they walk together or leaning on aether's shoulder during a moment of rest. you shouldn't be as surprised as you are.

venti's warm green eyes watch you closely as you relax, following the simple pattern of the music. he's one of the taller members of the group, and it's easier to keep up with him, even though he still has far more grace than you. you tentatively put your hands on his waist, and his eyes crinkle as he smiles.

there's silence for a while, both of you comfortably quiet. xiao shuffles past you two, clutching a plate of cheesecake. venti waves hello and gets an blank, icy stare back. you smile, casting your gaze up towards the ceiling.

"about 6REEZE, i think you're right, though," he says unexpectedly.

you look down again. "hm?"

"we're getting really popular, really quick." he laces his hands behind your head, turning slowly in a circle. "did i tell you, i heard aether's solo viator playing at the supermarket earlier? i actually like that we're becoming mainstream!"

"i mean, it was only a matter of time. you guys are all... " you blow out a breath, and your hair drifts upwards slightly. his gaze tracks the movement of each strand before it falls back into place, and you examine his hair more closely in turn as he tilts his head up.

it's a party, so he's not wearing his signature braids today, hair falling around his face so that he has to shake his head to get it out of his eyes. even so, the luminescence of the glowing blue strands remains, so that it seems even brighter in the dim light. you press a lock of it behind his ear, and your breath catches in your throat as he locks eyes with you.

it's something you've done a million times before interviews or photoshoots, fixing his hair or smoothing a wrinkle in his clothes, but with the two of you barely inches apart, your fingers only separated from his stomach by a piece of sheer fabric, it feels almost painfully intimate. your fingertips brush over his neck as you pull your hand back, and his lips part slightly without noise as though there's a word that caught on his tongue as it was leaving his mouth.

then the moment passes, and you clear your throat. "s-so, you heard aether's solo, right? that one was unexpectedly popular. i'm really happy for him. xiao's just released, so i think... oh!" you nod. "yours is next! it'll be called carmen dei, and i think barbara is going to compose for it. you know her, right?"

"yeah," he says, hesitating. "wait... so, she'll be the one writing the music?"

you nod. "why, is that a problem?"

"um, well, not a problem, but i was hoping to maybe -- like, do the music myself?" his eyes go to the side, and you can feel him tense up, the draw of his shoulders and torso tightening. "so it's my solo, not SHOGUNATE's, you know? when i'm done with this whole idol thing, i don't want my reputation to be all about me not singing my own songs."

you've heard out his complaints about the way SHOGUNATE ENTERTAINMENT micromanages every aspect of his idol persona a million times, but this is the first time that he sounds actually serious about it. you nod slowly. "i get that, but... lyre and violin music isn't exactly... "

"marketable?" venti says wryly. "yeah," you sigh. sometimes you're surprised by how down-to-earth he can be, considering how he normally is. he waves his hand before brightening. "hey, wait! i play the guitar, too! that's definitely marketable. everyone loves a cool guy with a guitar."

you're surprised for a moment, then not at all; of course, he would play three different instruments. only venti. "yeah, we could work with that. so, you can sing, dance, and play the violin, lyre, and the guitar? is there anything you can't do?" you question teasingly.

he leans in closer, and you can see every shade of green in the depths of his eyes. you're suddenly hyper-aware of how close you are to each other. "yeah, here's something. i can't stop myself from falling for you," venti quips, the smirk on his face huge and pronounced.

"oh," it escapes your mouth more of a sound than a word. you stare at him, your own eyes as wide as plates. he holds it for a few seconds, then bursts into laughter that seems to billow to life on the wind, filling up the room. you see other people turning to look at who's making so much noise as heat rises to your face, ducking away so that they don't connect you with him.

"why are you like this?" you groan, pressing your hand to your forehead to shield your face, and his expression settles into a fond, affectionate smile, resting his chin on your shoulder. "come on, [name]. you know you love me."

"... yeah," you say, and fold your fingers through his, swaying slowly with an exasperated, yet fond expression. "i do."

you can't see his face; you couldn't possibly know what he was feeling, not with his heart hidden away from you behind every joke made specifically to trick you that it's exactly that. just a joke. but with his eyes closed -- all long eyelashes and softened brow -- and his lips pressed together, head on your shoulder, he can almost pretend that 'love' of yours was the kind he's dreamed of for so long.

"you know you love me," he repeats in a whisper, so quietly he's barely making any noise, and you're so focused on the music that you can't hear, and maybe that's for the better. "so is it really my fault that i love you?"

kazuha has never been one for events like this, preferring the simpler solitude of working alone in his room or with only a few other people. though he's at least slightly more social than xiao, he tends to skip out when it becomes a larger gathering. it's especially annoying if everyone else is doing something that he has little interest in. he always ends up feeling painfully awkward and leaving early.

which means this situation, in which he's standing stiffly in the corner and white-knuckling a glass of sparkling apple juice, is his absolute worst nightmare.

he's been trying to get himself to join the other boys and you, spread out through the room, for a while now. venti is telling some story that has aether in hysterics. the corner of kazuha's lips turn up as he sees your expression, looking very confused but still laughing, a look that he’s seen on you a million times. being around you always feels so comfortable, like coming home after a long time away; though he doesn’t know if you feel the same, he always wants to be with you.

he catches himself a moment after thinking that. it’s not – not like that. he only means it because you’ve been friends for years. of course, he would prefer to be with someone who’s so close to him. it’s a simple, understandable thought. the way he feels about you is strictly friendly. still… even though it is – it is – he could never voice it aloud. no need to think about why, he thinks, idly swirling his juice.

oh – speak of the devil, he thinks surprisedly, then with a smile, as your gaze alights upon him. you grin, giving a quick goodbye to venti and then making your way over to his side. as you approach, his posture relaxes, grip on the glass loosening.

“hey, kazu,” you say, leaning on the wall beside him. his stomach flutters at the nickname, simply nodding back as he doesn’t trust himself not to get tongue-tied.

you sigh, seeming tired as you glance over at him. “how’s it going? ah, you know, you're old enough to drink.” you gesture at his glass. "can i get you something else, maybe? i know i need something stronger than apple juice to get myself through this."

his heart leaps at your words – thank god that he’s not the only one who doesn’t want to be here – and he smiles sheepishly. "ah, i probably shouldn’t. i’m something of a lightweight, i wouldn’t want to embarrass myself in front of all these people. are you also feeling out of place?”

“yeah, i’m not really sure what i’m supposed to be doing. i’ve slow danced, but this feels different. i don’t have anyone to do it with, either.” you click your tongue, disappointed. “and i got all dressed up, too.”

kazuha does a double take; with the room steadily darkening as the sky outside turns to a velvety black, he hadn’t taken in your outfit, assuming you were simply wearing another tuxedo. but no, now he sees every inch of it. silky silver fabric the color of fog, shimmering like water as you shift your weight, and spiraling threads of midnight blue embroidery on the hem and sleeves. the fabric swirls around your hips and shoulders, with a ribbon pulling it in at your waist, and you look…

heart-achingly beautiful. but that’s no different from usual. sometimes he think he could drown in it.

he’s vaguely aware that he’s probably losing the last shreds of his dignity with every second that he’s unable to muster a response, and he forces himself to lift his eyes back to your face. you’re smiling slightly.

he swallows, aware of the burning color on his face. “you look nice.” you do a little twirl, clapping your hands and laughing, and he almost loses it again.

“would you, uh… would you want to dance?” you ask, pointing over your shoulder. there’s a faint blush on your face. his heart speeds up, keeping his even expression with some difficulty. “we can’t leave, at least not for a bit – it would be ridiculous for us both to leave from 6REEZE’s own party, but…”

he blinks. “you want to dance? you mean, together?”

“of course!” you beam, taking his glass of cider and and clasping his hand. “don’t forget, i’ve known you for a long time! you know how to do it – your cousin does ballroom dancing, doesn’t she?”

“yes, that’s right,” he nods, unable to muster a better response. the feeling of your palm against his is distracting. “i’m not as good at it, though. i can try… ”

“that’s okay.” you tug him away from the wall, placing the glass on a nearby table, and put your hand on his hip. he shivers at the contact, fingers threading through yours, and hesitantly matches your stance. “you don’t need to be nervous,” you hum, guiding his arm around your waist. your voice is quiet – words blooming like smoke off your tongue, and he’s the only one who can hear them. “you’re the one who knows how to do this, so just take it slow.”

“all right,” kazuha agrees, following the music as it picks up and stepping back and forth. you note, as soon as he starts feeling more comfortable, that he moves as smoothly as a professional. he’s elegant, that’s the only word for it. as graceful as a leaf in the wind. you twirl around him, catching and releasing hands, with a smile as your fingertips meet again.

someone in the room has started singing, another musician with the orchestra, maybe. the words are too quiet for you to make out, but kazuha’s head starts to move gently with the high and low notes, chin bobbing as he spins away from you. he’s wearing earrings, you realize, long dangling silver things that twinkle with every movement. it’s a wonder they haven’t gotten tangled in his hair yet.

the singer grows louder, her voice silky and warm, and you stretch up to your tallest stance, twirling around him in a burst of misty cloth, faster and faster but never losing your balance, and at the longest note where you can practically feel the singer’s chest aching, he catches you into his arms. your back to his front. you can feel his chest rise and fall with each breath.

he releases you as soon as he seems to realize, and you step back. there’s a second of silence where neither of you knows what to say, and then you shake your head, regaining your bearings. he ducks his chin, pinching the back of his hand as though he’s in a dream.

“i know you don’t like it, so thanks for being willing to dance with me,” you say cheerfully, tilting your head. he nods, blinking rapidly like someone who spent too long looking at the sun. his ponytail has come undone at some point, platinum locks spilling around his ears. honestly, dancing, and dancing with you are two different things, but…

he stammers, nervously, and it breaks your heart a little but makes you grin, too, “thank you to you, too. it’s not – it was really nice, so – ”

in a heartbeat, you lean in and kiss him on the cheek; he stops midsentence, and it’s like fireworks are exploding in his head, temporarily blinded. your hair tickles his skin. you smell like expensive shampoo. such a tiny contact, and yet it feels as though his heart will belong to you forever after this.

you pull back, and kazuha’s face is bright red; from where your lips met his skin, it feels like flames are spreading across his face, heat bursting, prickling at him just under the surface. you look embarrassed too, opening your mouth and closing it like you weren’t planning on doing that. but god is he glad that you did.

for the first time, his fingers tangled in soft fabric and your hand in his, it feels like maybe he can admit how he feels. like maybe, he has a chance.

as always, heizou is the center of attention; he’s danced with at least three people since the party started. you’ve seen him clumsily switch between partners, waving goodbye to one person and flitting off to be with someone else. to his credit, he seems to do it smoothly enough, but it’s still hard not to laugh seeing him pop up in front of yet another potential partner with a flirty smile.

maybe you shouldn’t have laughed, it seems to have baited him over. and now, your time has come.

“please, please, please,” he begs, clasping your hands and opening his eyes as wide as he can to make them sparkle. it’s a move that you’ve seen him use on countless fans but that doesn’t quite work on you anymore. you tilt your head down, looking at him blankly. “please what?”

“dance with me, of course! i have no one else to go with, so help!” he pops the ending of his words on the tip of his tongue, like a bubble. you blink slowly. “there’s like, a hundred people in here that would happily accept if you asked, you know.”

“yeah, yeah,” he waves his hand. “but that’s the problem! until now i’ve just been warming up. i don’t want to ask just anyone, i’m saving it for someone special. soo… what do you say?”

“what.”

he’s practically on his knees, headband falling out of his hair. you poke it back in and he barely seems to notice. “please. i’ll give you free merch. i’ll let you cameo in one of our music videos. i’ll credit you in my solo for inspiration – ”

“okay first off, you don’t have that power, second, i do and i don’t even want it.” you press your lips together. “but… fine. if it’ll make you stop asking.”

he looks so happy, apples of his cheeks pink as he pumps his fist and pulls you towards him, that in that moment you can’t even be exasperated. you’re mostly invincible to his charms – you have to be, while dealing with his ridiculous requests and flights of fancy – but every now and then you remember why he’s so incredibly popular. those shining eyes and hair the color of expensive wine; and of course, he spends an exorbitant amount on expensive skincare products. ah, the life of an idol whose job is to be pretty…

“i’ll lead,” he says, easily settling into the stance. you nod. your hand curls over his shoulder, the other going to his waist, and you don’t realize until he turns a faint shade of pink that your fingers are on his bare skin.

“oh – i’m s-sorry,” you stammer, pulling your hand back like you’ve touched fire, and now your face is burning as you scan his outfit and see that his high-collared shirt, for whatever reason, is open on the sides. you hadn’t noticed because the hem is tucked neatly into his slacks. “i can just hold your arm instead – ”

heizou clears his throat. “it’s fine, if you’re okay with it, you can just… yeah,” he trails off as you place your hand back where it was.

“okay,” you mumble, swallowing thickly, fingertips brushing over his side. you can feel how warm his skin is, the muscles of his stomach; it feels improper almost, and you prepare yourself for heizou making a million comments about it, as is typical behavior from him.

but as he starts to move, stepping carefully in a circle, being careful to avoid his shoes catching in the fabric billowing around your legs, you see he’s looking everywhere but at you. his face is still shaded pink. you marvel at seeing him flustered. it’s… cute.

as soon as you think it, you shake your head at yourself, focusing on the dance. just the dance. you only agreed to get him to stop begging.

a few minutes go by as you get your bearings, tentatively following his movements. you pride yourself on being easy to imbalance (in many ways), but heizou is a bad dancer. it’s a wonder that the people he was with earlier were willing to put up with it. there’s something almost lovable about it – the way he stumbles every now and then as his shoes slide across the slick floor, long fingernails skidding over your wrist as he loses his grip. you can’t help but smile.

“people are looking,” he says, whispering it into your ear as you bend backwards into a dip. you can practically feel him straining to hold you up with one arm in a lazy grip around your back. despite yourself – despite how little you know about dancing, how little he seems to know about dancing – you’re having fun, and you can’t bring yourself to care, laughing as you say, “let them look!”

he looks shocked. you understand, of course; normally, you’re not the kind of person who revels in attention from others, not the way that he is. but you’ve been the manager of 6REEZE for so long now that you’re starting to get used to it, and this isn’t something you would do normally, either. but for now you can delight in it instead of spending too much time thinking.

funny how he of all people is having that effect on you.

a flute player starts up in the orchestra, the other instruments softening to let the fast-paced, sweet music drift through the crowd. it settles like a fine, light mist over the dancing couples. against your better judgment, you speed up your movements, pirouetting between two others and letting go of him for a moment – you see his eyes widen as you vanish, only to reappear a second later and grab his shoulder again, pulling you back together. today is a day for surprises.

he’s wheezing with what might be amusement or exhaustion, and you can’t help but join in, and you stare into his eyes and they sparkle like precious gems. those peridot-colored eyes. for just a second, you can study every bit of his face. he’s almost unfairly gorgeous.it takes a tiny internal struggle to pull yourself away as his laughter turns to confusion, and you pretend as though nothing has happened when you return to the dance.

he knows, though; he saw the feeling in your gaze. you know he knows. and the space between you has narrowed.

“have you ever heard that a mole under your eye means you’re going to have bad luck in love?” you ask, tightening your grip as he spins clumsily. “you have two of them, so doesn’t that mean you’d have double the bad luck?”

heizou blinks, side-stepping another couple. “hmm, maybe, but it’s fine with me. i’ve heard people say it makes me look more mature, so i can put up with something like that. especially since i’m able to naturally counter it with my good looks, y’know?”

“you’re so shallow,” you say, eyes glimmering. if it was anyone else, you’d feel bad talking to them in such a way, but heizou always provokes you to this kind of immature banter. it feels natural, real in a way that not much in the idol world is. real the same way your arms around his shoulders are. “imagine if you acted like this without being the main visual. you’re lucky you’re pretty.”

his mouth opens into a perfect O for a second – your heart catches in your throat – and then softens into the same playful smile as always. “if all i’ve got going for me is my looks, then i’d happily use them to charm you!” he hums. “no matter how long it takes. i won’t give up.”

and all you can do is laugh. how could you say that he’s already succeeded?

maybe it’s unfair, but you’re not expecting to see aether with anyone as you approach him, much less a pretty blond girl with a expensive-looking flower clip in her hair. not because he’s shy, exactly – more cautious. he doesn’t have as many admirers as the other boys and it’s no secret (at least to you) that it makes him… well, hesitant.

but he’s smiling, and something clenches in your stomach; not jealousy, maybe confusion. his happiness always makes you feel the tiniest bit bitter, because it makes you wonder how anyone could see him like that and not fall in love with his smile.

“hey aether,” you say, tapping his shoulder and smiling at the blond girl. “nice to meet you, i’m 6REEZE’s manager, [name].”

“ohh, you’re [name],” the girl says, tapping her chin and smiling slightly. she glances at aether. “nice to meet you. aether’s said a lot about you, you know – ”

“okay, thanks for that,” aether cuts her off, speaking through gritted teeth. he turns to you. “this is lumine, my twin sister. she’s a member of 4BYSS.”

your eyes pop. “your sister is in 4BYSS?”

he starts to laugh and lumine rubs the back of her neck sheepishly. 4BYSS is a very popular girl group under MRX Entertainment consisting of four members who always wear masks during their videos. when 6REEZE was first marketed they were considered as their ‘male counterpart’ until it was made public knowledge that they had been put together by SHOGUNATE – to know that aether’s twin is also a famous idol is just…

“wow. so the idol talent runs in the family?” you say, shaking your head disbelievingly. “i can’t believe i never knew this! aether, you should have introduced us sooner.”

“sorry. i try to keep my family and my friends separate, since my sister likes to tease.” he glares at her. she giggles, covering her mouth, and flicks her hand. “whatever, it’s not like i’m doing anything wrong or lying. after all, aether has quite a few stories about – ”

“okay,” aether interrupts for the second time. your lips tug up as lumine frowns. “i think you should go get something to eat, lumine. you seem… out of it.”

“fine,” she huffs, and then her eyes light up. “oh! since i’m going, why don’t you two dance together? otherwise, you’ll have only danced with me this whole time and that’s just sad. plus – well, you know. be brave, little brother.” she pats you on the shoulder, squeezing just a bit as she winks at you, then flutters away towards the food.

aether pinches the bridge of his nose as you turn to him, amused. “that’s… wrong. she’s three minutes younger than me.”

“what a cutie,” you say with furrowed eyebrows, before you cross one arm over your chest, tucking it under the other nervously. “um, so what she said about dancing, do you wanna?”

his eyes light up and he beams, and you blink when he nods excitedly instead of hesitating with “yeah, sure!” but then again, you shouldn’t be surprised; aether is the kind of person who always agrees to things. you, really, really hope he’s not just trying to make you happy.

you place your arms over his shoulders. his silken gold hair is in a high ponytail that curls over his back, messy bangs out of his face, and he’s wearing bracelets. light, silver things – herringbone, you think absently, smooth and delicate – that make soft jingling noises as his wrist moves, taking your hand.

the music picks up, and you’re off; a light but firm grip on your hip, fingers ready to let go of you at any time. it’s almost a surprise how good he is at it– but not quite, because it’s still him, and he is nothing if not a hard worker. he’s not good at things by chance. and yes, you can feel the undercurrent of supporting strength in his muscles as you step, hand clasped in his high in the air.

he is steady. as always.

you sweep your arm to avoid bumping into a giggling, pale-haired boy in an top hat as he spins in a circle. aether looks after him with a grin, still keeping up with you even as his gaze drifts. “it’s kind of nice to see you like this,” you say without thinking.

he raises an eyebrow, attention shifting back. you feel heat creeping up your neck. “what do you mean?”

“i-i don’t know. relaxed? cheerful?” even you know how it sounds, saying that aether, the friendliest and most positive member, is not normally cheerful. there’s really no way to articulate what you mean – that you know his usual optimistic demeanor is a facade? that you can tell he’s exhausted? no, that’s not something you can say aloud. you half-shrug, twirling away. “you just seem… happier lately. less stressed?”

he nods. “yeah, since my solo came out, um… ” he trails off, looking embarrassed, his nose dusted pink. his blush always starts there. it’s taken you a long time to figure that out, since he almost never gets flustered. you incline your head slightly for him to continue. “i mean… it ended up being really popular! a lot of people know me now. and that’s… it’s cool, right?”

your heart melts a little. “of course! i know how hard you worked for that,” you hum, fingertips grazing over his back as you shift your position. he turns on one leg, sweeping the other out behind him to maintain his balance. he’s gliding more than moving, without stumbling a single time. the music bleeds into your ears, and he’s humming. the lights drift over his face. his gaze seems far away, swinging your arm out and stepping back and forth. you try not to smile.

one of his bracelets catches the light, as though a spotlight has alighted onto aether’s wrist; he pivots on his heel, leaning back so you can lean forward. his shoes tapping on the floor. you tilt just a bit too far, bumping into him – and you’re flooded with the scent of orange blossoms and cinnamon. you’re not sure if it’s body wash or if he just smells like that. you wouldn’t be surprised.

he turns you around by the hand, fingers curling over yours, and says suddenly, “thank you.”

you blink as you face him again. for a second you think you imagined it, because his eyes aren’t on you. “for what?”

“believing in me,” he says, tightening his grip on your waist – color bursts over your cheeks and you open your mouth – and then you’re whirling through the air as he spins in a circle. you laugh out of disbelief; with anyone else you might be afraid to move, worried he’d drop you, but… it’s aether. you don’t think he’s even capable of that.

time seems to slow down, the moment stretching into an eternity. you can see head and shoulders above everyone else, but the only thing you’re looking at is him; and his smile, his eyes are as bright as the sun.

you expected xiao to leave within the first hour – hell, the first ten minutes – of the party, but he lasted over two hours before finally slipping out. you’re a bit proud; even as an idol, he doesn’t have much experience with these kind of events, only speaking when he has to and going silent entirely when he’s too tired not to. you understand it, of course. he’s supporting the whole group.

you give a quick excuse to kazuha and head towards the door that xiao took. as soon as you step through the doorframe, you’re hit with a blast of cool air, a welcome difference from the stuffy atmosphere inside the main room. the hallway is empty.

“xiao?” you call. “are you here?”

there’s no response, but your gaze catches on the one door that’s slightly ajar. you approach it, peering inside, and find him sitting on the room’s windowsill, staring out over the city. you clear your throat and he turns his head; even at night, the golden lights shining from both skyscrapers and houses is almost blinding, and he’s bathed in it. the sharp lines of his face seem softer.

“hi,” you say. he seems to be registering your presence, and returns, “hey,” tilting his chin up. “why are you here?”

you frown, lined with a teasing edge, at the same moment he realizes it sounded rude, and you see his brow furrow. “sorry. that came out wrong. i just meant… ”

“i know what you meant,” you answer, the corner of your mouth lifting up. “i was looking for you. i thought – maybe you would want some company?”

his eyes spark with something that could maybe be happiness, maybe anticipation. “yeah. that would be nice.” it comes out like a mumble, as do most of his comments; and maybe you’re just hoping for it, but it sounds like there’s a bit of genuine gratitude in there.

you sit down on the windowsill beside him, admiring the view of the city. if it were a truly perfect evening, it might start raining, lending an air of peacefulness to the scene, but nothing in real life is that perfect. for now, it’s nice just to sit with him like this.

“so, why’d you dip?” it’s easy to guess the answer: that he simply got tired of pleasantries. you’re surprised when his face screws up, propping his chin up with his hand. “i’m not a good dancer.”

“yeah you are!” you protest. “what are you talking about?”

“not at slow dancing.” xiao glares at nothing in particular. “i don’t have any practice. i’ve never done it.”

you can’t help but smile a bit, turning to face the window. you speak a bit haltingly, pressing your palm to the glass. it’s smooth, cold. raindrops fall between your fingers. heat runs to your face as you talk. “i’m sure you could pick it up. do… do you want to practice?”

he doesn’t answer for a long moment, and you glance at him out of the corner of your eye, stomach churning. his lips are pressed together, a tiny flush lighting up his pale face, and he finally says, “okay. if you want to.”

you slide to your feet, fumbling with your phone for a second and landing on a playlist of classical music. you press the play button and drop it on a table before turning to xiao, who looks slightly lost. soft music starts to leak into your ears, and you press a bit closer to him, searching for his frame in the dark. when you place one hand into his, laying the other tentatively on his hip, he stiffens for barely a fraction of a second, then relaxes.

“sorry,” he mutters. “i don’t know where to put my hands.”

“here,” you whisper, guiding his tense fingers to your waist. there’s something a bit too clumsy, a bit too endearing about the gesture for it to be embarrassing. “and just keep the other one where it is. and then… step, one, two, move your arm… ”

he’s a quick learner, naturally. he wouldn’t be such an amazing group center if he wasn’t. you were expecting it. but still, it barely takes him a few beats to pick up the measure. dancing in this empty place is so different from the other room you were in before. there’s a million less things to focus on and at the same time, a million more. every bit of him a tiny miracle.

it’s not quite dark, not with the shining glow of the city’s skyline outside, but you can only slightly make out the general shape of xiao’s features. soft cheekbones, full lips and dark hair. he’s still got a hint of sternness in his expression, but his eyes shine slightly; yellowish, with pupils like a cat’s.

connected in the slow rhythm, swaying with your arms around him, you can hardly breathe. or maybe it’s that you don’t want to breathe, not quite – you don’t want to disturb the moment. it feels like you’re moving through molasses, slow and sweet and wonderful. his grip relaxes as you go, his steps and sweeps of his arm become smoother, until he’s moving just as evenly and fluidly as you. neither of you speaks.

there’s a plunking sound, like someone’s dropping pebbles into a puddle of water. you look out the window. it’s raining, the lights starting to go dark as the raindrops running down the glass distort the city’s horizon; xiao barely seems to notice, though you catch a hint of a gentler look on his face in the last bit of gleaming gold before the rain obscures it entirely.

the shadow cast by the drops on the glass forms itself on the wall behind you, scattering over your face. it’s slightly blue, mostly black, almost silver in places. just like a movie. “it’s perfect,” you whisper to yourself, and xiao doesn’t give any sign that he’s heard, though he moves just a bit faster as if something is spurring him on.

you shift your weight slightly, rest your head on his collarbone. the room is quiet, and if you strain, there’s the orchestra music from the main room, layered under the gentle piano pouring from your phone and curling through the air like smoke. you can hear – can feel – his heart beating. even with everything else, at least for this moment, that could be your favorite song.

#<3.writing #kunikuzushi imagines #kunikuzushi x reader #venti x reader #venti imagines #kazuha x reader #kazuha imagines #kazuha crowned as your biggest fan 2023 #aether x reader #aether imagines #heizou x reader #heizou imagines #xiao x reader #xiao imagines

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smallgodseries · 1 year

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[image description: A black and white tuxedo cat with a bowtie emerges from the Matrix-green screen of a laptop and stands in the keyboard looking adorably up at us.Text reads, “194, ROSWELL, the small god of CATS ON THE INTERNET”]

* * * * *

I’M ON UR INTERNET, STEALIN UR BANDWIDTH.

Simple images on a screen, block text marching across the tops and bottoms. I CAN HAZ CHEESEBURGER? MONORAIL CAT IS READY FOR LAUNCH. WE CAN’T STOP HERE, THIS IS BAT COUNTRY. OH HAI.

They were here before the internet began. Capturing the images of cats has always been a human preoccupation. We’d say the cats don’t care as much, but…the cats POSE. Could the cats pose if they didn’t care?

What we don’t realize is that they aren’t posing for us. They’re posing for Roswell, hoping to gain his fleeting favor.

When a cat is uploaded to Instagram or to Twitter or to Facebook, Roswell is there, studying the angle of their whiskers, the gleam of their eyes. He sees the cats in costumes, the cats in ridiculous positions, the cats in need of better care, and he favors them all, for all of them are his.

In recent years, his favor has extended to turning eyes toward the rescues, toward the goopy-eyed kittens and the abandoned nursing mothers, the ones who may not be as photogenic, but are all the more in need of attention, love and care. He wants them all to thrive, to appear as the star of some human’s life in their natty bowtie and carefully chosen name. They’re all stars. He wants to help them shine.

I’M ON UR INTERNET, STEALIN UR HEART.

We all serve Roswell, one way or another. We all feed into the endless hunger for the cats he carries, and we can all be his beloveds, if only we listen, and we pay attention, and we post. Our likes and shares feed him, and by feeding him, we feed the cats he cares for, from the social media influencer with eight million followers and a diet of raw minced tuna to the goopy kitten fighting to grow up big and strong and lasting. We all serve him, and we should count ourselves lucky to do so.

CAN I HAZ—

Yes, Roswell. Yes.

You CAN haz cheeseburger.

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jackles010378 · 4 months

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A New Year's Eve to Remember

(dean Winchester X you)

No warnings just fluff 🥰

Y/n had always admired Dean Winchester from afar. She was captivated by his rugged charm, his fearless attitude, and the undeniable allure of the hunter's life. Now, with New Year's Eve just around the corner, Y/n couldn't shake the idea of spending the night with Dean. Gathering her nerves, she summoned the courage to ask him to be her date for the evening.

"Dean," she began hesitantly, "would you do me the honor of being my date for New Year's Eve?"

Dean glanced up from his magazine, surprise evident in his eyes. "Really, Y/n? You want me as your date?"

Y/n nodded, a blush creeping up her cheeks. "Yes, Dean. You're an incredible person, and spending the evening with you would mean the world to me."

Dean scratched his head, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Well, I gotta admit, that's a tempting offer. Alright, you've got yourself a date, Y/n."

Her heart raced with excitement as Y/n imagined spending the most magical night of the year with the man of her dreams. She had always envisioned Dean in his customary leather jacket, but as the day approached, an unexpected desire emerged within her.

On the night of the New Year's Eve party, Dean arrived at Y/n's door donning an unexpected surprise—a sleek black tuxedo. Y/n's eyes widened in awe at the sight of him, feeling a sudden burst of passion ignite deep within her for the handsome hunter.

"Dean, you look absolutely breathtaking," she managed to whisper, her voice filled with adoration.

Dean smiled, his green eyes gleaming. "I wanted to do something special for you, Y/n. You deserve it."

As Y/n closed the door behind her, she revealed her dress—a stunning midnight-blue gown that accentuated her curves perfectly. Dean couldn't take his eyes off her, his lips parting in awe.

"You look amazing, Y/n," he breathed, unable to tear his gaze away from her.

As the night unfolded, Dean and Y/n danced under the twinkling lights, their chemistry sparking like fireworks in the starlit sky. They laughed, they shared stories, and they connected on a deeper level than either of them had expected.

Caught up in the magic of the evening, Y/n couldn't help but notice the way Dean's eyes never strayed from her. His touch was electric, his words filled with sincerity. It was as if the universe had conspired to bring them together on this unforgettable night.

When the clock struck midnight and the room erupted in cheers, Dean's hand found Y/n's, and they shared a lingering, passionate kiss. In that moment, they both knew that this night was just the beginning of something extraordinary.

As the New Year began, Y/n and Dean embarked on a journey neither of them could have anticipated. Their love blossomed, intertwining their lives in ways they never thought possible. Together, they faced the trials and tribulations of the hunter's world, always supporting and protecting each other.

And every New Year's Eve, as the clock neared midnight, Dean would slip into that tuxedo once again, igniting the passion within him for the woman who had captured his heart. Y/n would step into her enchanting gown, feeling a surge of love for the man who had become her everything.

They would dance under the sparkling sky, celebrating not just the passing of time but the eternity they had found in each other's arms. And in that moment, they knew that their love would forever burn brighter than any firework, illuminating their lives with a love that was both timeless and true.

TAGLIST: @k-slla @cevansbaby-dove @kaleldobrev @janineb86 @deans-daydream @alternativeprincess94 @nescavaneck

#jensen ackles #dean winchester #supernatural #jackles #jensen ross ackles #spn cast #deanwinchtser #soldier boy #jensen ackles gifs #beau arlen #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fan fiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fluff

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victoriansecret · 3 months

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Evander Berry Wall was a famous sociality and fashionista in the late 19th and early 20th century, dubbed The King of the Dudes. Via wikipedia:

"Wall was a clotheshorse. He generally wore a "very extraordinary costume" such as the one pictured on the right: "a dust coat of a reddish havana brown, a suit made of a large grey shepherd plaid check; extremely wide trousers tapered at the ankle, and turned up several inches to display white spats and highly varnished shoes; a 'startling' striped shirt in red and sky blue, with very high false collar of a pattern different from the shirts, a striped vest and a widely spread stock-cravat." He was popularly credited with the possession of over 500 trousers and 5,000 neckties." ...

Wall was first proclaimed "King of the Dudes" at the resort town of Long Branch, New Jersey in the summer of 1883.

Wall was again proclaimed "King of the Dudes" in 1888 by the New York American newspaper. A journalist named Blakely Hall judged that Wall had won the "Battle of the Dudes" against Robert "Bob" Hilliard, another sartorial dude when, during the March Blizzard of 1888, he strode into a bar clad in gleaming boots of patent leather that went to his hips. Nevertheless, some historians still consider it was Hilliard who won that dude battle.

Wall won another fashion contest in August 1888, in Saratoga Springs, New York. To win a bet against John "Bet a Million" Gates, Wall changed clothes 40 times between breakfast and dinner. He appeared on the race track "in one flashy ensemble after the other until, exhausted but victorious he at last entered the ballroom of the United States Hotel in faultless evening attire."

Ever the fashion-leader, Wall is credited for having been the first person in the United States to wear a dinner jacket (tuxedo) to a ball. The white ensemble had been sent to him by the London Savile Row tailor Henry Poole & Co "to be worn for a quiet dinner at home or at an evening's entertainment at a summer resort." This was a time when tailcoat was still the rule, and Wall was immediately ordered off the floor.

Wall's financial life was not as successful as his fashion life. An ill-conceived stock-broking career and additional failures as a stable owner ended in an 1899 bankruptcy. Wall finally declared that "New York had become fit only for businessmen" and left for Paris in 1912. ... They lived in a suite in the Hotel Meurice, with a consecutive string of chow dogs named Chi-Chi or Toi-Toi. This was located conveniently near the bespoke shirtmaker Charvet, where Wall had his signature "spread eagle" collar shirts and cravats custom-made for himself and his dog. Wall always dined at the Ritz with his dog, whose collars and ties were made by Charvet in the same style and fabric as his master's.

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maraschinomerry · 1 year

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Matching Mates part 2

Pairings: George Karim x gn!reader, Locklyle

Summary: you and George finally have a first date at the Fittes ball, and it turns out people are more invested in your relationship than you expected.

Content: fluff, anxiety in a crowd, wholesome misunderstanding, fake marriage, first "I love you"

A/N: part 1 here - original request by @toothcereal, part 2 requested by @neewtmas and @poisonquinzell ❤️

Word count: 2.5k

The taxi ride to Fittes was agony. You were nervous enough as it was, having never been to such a large and prestigious event before so not being used to the feel of formalwear. Even the reassuring presence of George beside you, hand in yours to comfort both you and himself (he wasn't keen on the social aspect of this either), wasn't enough to stop your knee from bouncing a mile a minute. Then, of course, there were the two sharklike grins gleaming at you from Lockwood and Lucy in the seats opposite. They'd given up trying to suppress them a few minutes into the journey, and you weren't sure whether you preferred them over the affectionately smug conversation they'd been having without speaking a single word. Honestly, their ability to read each other from facial expressions and body language alone would have been admirable had you not been on the receiving end.

After what felt like an eternity, the cab pulled up. George immediately offered you a hand to help you climb down. Ahead was a queue of guests, all incredibly close and affectionate. Shakily, you linked your arm through George's in the same way Lucy's was through Lockwood's. Together, you all reached the front of the line, where a stern man in a black suit was checking the guest list.

"Lockwood & Co." Lockwood stated.

The man scrutinised the list. "No plus ones?"

"No," Lucy chipped in eagerly. "We're all dating. Not all dating, I mean, two couples."

"Welcome, lovebirds. Enjoy the ball." You wondered absently how Fittes had managed to make such a deadpan person the face of such a romantic event. And then you were inside.

This was by far the most people you'd seen in one place since moving to London. Trailing down the staircases, clustered round the bar, mingling in the open spaces between, were hundreds of couples, all forming their own distinctive pockets within the crowd with their matching outfits. You hesitated on the threshold, slipping from George's arm as he continued forward. The second he realised, though, he turned back and placed a tender hand at your elbow.

"We don't have to do this, (name). Not if you don't want to."

You took a deep breath, distracting yourself from the hubbub by adjusting his tie. "It's okay. This is a big opportunity for the agency." Your hand smoothed down his tie, feeling his chest rise and fall beneath your fingertips. "Plus, it's kind of exciting that this is our first date."

George perked up instantly, almost like he'd forgotten the date was real and not just a ploy for one of Lockwood's harebrained schemes. Seeing him so excited was adorable, and knowing that you were the cause gave you butterflies. He looked into your eyes, silently making sure you were ready, before guiding you into the crowd with his hand still on your elbow.

—

"See you two are finally official," a familiar voice drifted over your shoulder as you took your drink from the bar. You and George turned in unison to see Quill Kipps with a raised eyebrow and a friendly smirk. Ever the Fittes agent, his grey uniform had been exchanged for a grey tuxedo. The pretty blonde girl beside him wore a sleek grey dress with a slit right up to her thigh.

"What do you mean, finally?" George frowned.

"Just because I'm not a researcher doesn't mean I'm not observant. Haven't even worked together that much and I could tell you were into each other. Everyone could."

As if on cue, Bobby Vernon strolled past in pursuit of a redhead in the same shade of purple as his tie. He paused when he noticed your outfits. "Oh, thank god, you've gone public at last. Ned owes me a tenner now." The redhead had moved on, and Bobby scuttled after her. You forced yourself to close your gaping jaw.

"We… may have taken bets on it," Kipps clarified like it wasn't abundantly obvious. As obvious as your attraction to George, apparently. "I'm pleased for you, though. Especially if it means you're too distracted to poach any more of our cases." The older boy finished with a wink and an encouragement to enjoy the evening before melting into the crowd with his date.

"Are we really that transparent?" you sighed incredulously.

"I don't know," George mused. "I always thought I was coming on way too strong and you just weren't interested, but maybe we're too close to things to have noticed."

"That's a very polite way of calling me oblivious, Georgie."

"Hey, I'm saying I was too!"

"How equitable of you."

—

The evening ended up being quite enjoyable. Drinks were free, waiters constantly weaved throughout the room with trays of delicious canapés, and you were able to spend most of the time simply hanging out with your friends. At one point, after a speech from Penelope Fittes, a small classical band appeared from nowhere to initiate a Valentine's dance. George offered you his hand, his other coming to rest gently on your waist when you accepted. You brought your free hand up to his shoulder, stepping closer. The dance was slow and soulful, a lifesaver for you and your two left feet. Surprisingly, George was more adept than you expected, taking the lead with confidence. As the song came to an end, the hand on your waist moved round your back to draw you in for a kiss. It was longer than the one you'd shared in the hallway back home, more passionate, but still just as gentle and sweet. Nearby, Lockwood and Lucy were in the same position, lips locked, but they pulled apart a moment earlier and watched you two fondly. As much as they teased you, they were thrilled you'd finally admitted your feelings for each other.

"Excuse me a minute," George murmured, eyeing the arrows for the bathrooms, "I'll be right back."

—

Even the bathrooms were fancy. George hadn't been at Fittes long enough to attend a ball as an employee, and he'd skipped last year's to study the Bone Glass (he repressed a shudder at the memory) so this was his first time in the agency's ballroom. Everything was so ostentatious, a stark reminder of how much better off he was at Lockwood & Co.

He bumped into someone on his way out and raised his head immediately to apologise.

"Good evening," Penelope Fittes smiled graciously. She was the picture of romance and Valentines in a fluttering rose red gown, real roses adorning her dark hair.

"Ms Fittes, I'm so sorry, I didn't-"

"No need to apologise. And call me Penelope, please. It's George, isn't it?"

"Yes. From Lockwood & Co."

Penelope nodded, remembering meeting the team (aside from you) at Samaran Pandy's funeral. "Of course, I'm glad you could all make it. Anthony and Lucy are a couple, I hear." It felt odd hearing Lockwood's first name out loud, but he supposed she would have no reason to know he didn't use it.

"That's right, and I'm with (name), our fourth member. I don't believe you've met." Being able to say he was with you was such a proud moment, he couldn't help but turn to look for you in the crowd. Penelope followed his gaze, picking you out by the outfit which matched the boy in front of her.

"Hopefully I'll get chance to greet them before the end of the night, you know what these things are like when everyone wants to have mingled with you."

George didn't know, but he kept quiet. This was lasting longer than he expected, and it was only a matter of time before he said the wrong thing and got the whole agency banned from future events. Besides, he'd left you alone far too long. Time to find a way out. "Oh, do you need to-?" He gestured over his shoulder to the mass of people.

Penelope waved his concern away. So much for that plan. "Don't worry. To be honest, this is the first proper conversation I've been able to have all evening, and it's refreshing to see you young couples having fun. You remind me of myself and my husband when we were your age. Absolutely inseparable, now he's wandered off and I've no idea where. You'd think a man in a bright red suit would be easy enough to find."

Anxious to get away from the conversation and back to you, George seized the opportunity. "I should let you go and look for your spouse, and I'll get back to mine."

"Oh!" Penelope sounded astonished. George tried to replay what he'd said in his mind to cause such a reaction, hadn't he just said he needed to return to his date? "I didn't realise! How long have you two been married?"

Something broke a little in George's brain. Married?! No, there was a misunderstanding, surely, you'd only started dating tonight. Hell, you'd only known each other for- "Six months."

"That's wonderful, I wish you the very best. But yes, go, enjoy your night with your spouse." Before George could protest, she'd ushered him back into the crowd and disappeared.

—

George was taking longer than you expected, and you were beginning to panic. Where was he? Was everything okay? Lockwood and Lucy had been swallowed up by the crowd, you wanted to seek them out for reassurance, but what if you left the spot George had left you on and then he couldn't find you? Even Kipps would have been comforting to see right about now.

A hand on your waist made you jump.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you," George said softly, before noticing your expression, frantic pupils blown wide and lower lip trembling. "Hey, hey, what's wrong? Are you okay?"

"Mhm," you mumbled unconvincingly. "I just…" your eyes scanned the crowd. George put the pieces together.

"(Name), I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to leave you alone for so long." He curled a hand into your hair, bringing your foreheads together until everything else faded away and all you could see and feel was him. "Come on, let's find somewhere a bit more quiet."

George led you by the hand through the crowd, careful never to put too much space between you that someone could barge through. Eventually the bodies around you thinned out, vanishing completely as you reached an empty grey corridor. You sat down unceremoniously on the floor, relishing in the quiet and the coolness of the wall against the back of your head. George joined you, hand still linked in yours.

"I'm sorry," he repeated urgently. "I tried to get back to you, but I ran into Penelope and she's a remarkably difficult person to get away from."

You could imagine - one of the most powerful women in the country, and one with such a strong connection to the Problem, would be a more than interesting conversationalist. Your curiosity was piqued. "Oh, what was she saying? Was it about the Problem?"

George let out a nervous chuckle. "No, we, uh… we actually talked about love. And you." He let go of your hand to wrap around your shoulder and bring you into his side. In turn you placed your arm across his chest, fidgeting with the button of his now open jacket.

"Me?" What on earth would Penelope Fittes have to say about you?

"She'd like to meet you. Said it's nice to see a young couple having fun, that we remind her of her and her husband." A couple. You both smiled at the notion. Suddenly George blanched, remembering what he'd accidentally implied. "Actually, I should probably explain, in case-"

What George had been about to say was "in case anyone else hears and gets the wrong idea". It was far too late for that.

"Well," that familiar voice came again as Kipps rounded the corridor, alone this time. "I have to say I'm impressed. We all thought you two were just being oblivious or dating in secret, certainly never expected a secret marriage." Your jaw dropped and you turned to George for an explanation, who was looking very red in the face and pointedly avoiding eye contact with either of you. Kipps continued, "Fair play, Karim, (name), you two are full of surprises. Should make cases more interesting in future. Congratulations, anyway." And just like that, he was gone.

You rounded on George. "George Casper Karim, what exactly did Kipps mean about a secret marriage?"

"That's what I wanted to tell you!" His voice was agitated, higher than normal. "I was trying to find a way out of the conversation, and when Penelope said she couldn't find her husband I suggested we both go and look for our partners, but with all the husband and young love talk I might have accidentally said spouse instead."

You couldn't help but laugh. By how worried he'd seemed, you thought something bad had happened or he was having second thoughts, when the truth was he'd unintentionally implied you were married. It was kind of sweet actually, and you couldn't pretend you hadn't imagined what it would be like.

"It's not funny!" George swatted at you harmlessly, which only made you laugh more. "If Kipps knows, he'll tell his whole team, and Bobby will single handedly tell anyone in Fittes who hasn't already heard. And oh my god, if Lockwood and Lucy get wind we'll never hear the end of it." That was a good point. If you thought they were insufferable now…

"Right, okay, we have two options. Either you go and tell Penelope it was a slip of the tongue, and I tell Kipps the same, or we pretend we rushed into it and realised it was too quick so go back to 'just' dating."

George pondered for a moment, playing with your fingers. "There is a third option." He paused as you looked quizzical, and his hand stilled around yours. "We go along with it." He looked so vulnerable as he waited for your reaction, heart on the line and entirely in your hands. You leaned in and kissed him even as your face split into a grin. He kissed you back firmly, excitedly.

"I can't imagine a better person to pretend to be married to," you giggled against his lips. "But on one condition."

"Anything."

"We have to be the ones to tell the others. I want to see Lockwood's head explode when I call you my husband."

George laughed now too, standing and offering you a hand to help you up. "Deal. Come on then, darling, we'd better hurry before Bobby gets in there. And not to come on too strong for a first date, but I figure since we've supposedly been married for six months the timeline goes out the window… Can I get you a ring? Just as a token, no strings attached. We could shop for one tomorrow, if you want."

"I love you," you said suddenly. It wasn't exactly an answer to his question, yet somehow it was.

George blushed, and leaned forward to kiss you once, twice more. "I love you too."

#lockwood & co #lockwood & co fanfic #george karim x reader #gn!reader #george karim #locklyle

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minisugakoobies · 9 months

Text

Paradise Chapter 14 - Teaser | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: smut, neighbors to lovers (not quite friends but not quite strangers), love triangle, Stripper!AU

Rating: M (18+)

Teaser Warnings: reference to blow jobs

Teaser Word Count: 859 (actual chapter TBD)

Disclaimers: None, other than obviously I don’t own BTS - they simply inspire me

A/N: Helloooooo… sorry it's taking so long for the next update. Here's a little peek at how the chapter begins. Can you believe we're coming up on 2 YEARS since this started?? 😳 Wild. Thank you for hanging on! 💕

(This chapter is still in progress, so this is subject to change!)

Paradise Main Masterlist 💜 Masterlist 💜 Find me on AO3 💜

Turns out that impulsiveness looks pretty good on you.

“YN!”

Or not.

As soon as you close the door, you hear Jin’s voice calling to you. He’s standing at the other end of the little hallway, near the entrance to the reception room.

“Hey,” you reply, trying to be the most nonchalant you’ve ever been in your life, as if you weren’t just gagging on Jungkook’s dick in a public bathroom.

“Easy, tiger!” he laughs, arms locking around your back as he helps you stand back upright. “I’m used to ladies throwing themselves at me, but only you’ve taken it literally.”

Another hand slips into yours.

Oh, shit.

On top of that, Jungkook has asked you a question. And is now waiting for an answer, while Jin watches in polite silence.

“Um. Yes. Sorry, yes, can you keep an eye on it for me?”

Jin clears his throat lightly.

“Oh! I’m sorry, Jin, this is Jungkook, Jungkook, Jin.”

You try to quickly fill Jungkook in. “Jin’s the best man.”

“Sure am.” Jin grins.

“He and Yoongi grew up together,” you add, ignoring Jin’s little interjection, knowing that Jungkook didn’t miss it based on the way his jaw flexes violently, as if he’s gnashing his teeth.

“Nice to meet you, Jungkook. That’s quite a grip you have there.” Jin slides his hands into his pockets. “YN’s told me a little about you.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” Jungkook replies, inclining his head slightly. His hand returns to yours, fingers locking firmly. “Wish I could say the same, but YN never mentions you.”

You try to control your face as you look at Jungkook. What did he just say?

#bts x reader #bts scenarios #bts smut #bts imagines #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #fic: paradise

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justalost4girl · 7 months

Text

BETWEEN WORLDS

words: 2.65k

You pick her up at home wearing a tuxedo. She finds it funny and pulls you by the tie for a kiss as you step out of the car to open the door. She's radiant, and you're sure you want to spend the rest of your life with this woman. The box in your pocket weighs a little heavier as you close the door behind her.

You get into the car and start driving towards your favorite restaurant. It's a pleasant, starry night, and she tells you how her boss miraculously gave her the day off today. You smile as you listen to her talk about how she missed you; Natalia has always been your source of happiness. Always will be. She puts on her favorite playlist, and you both sing along to the songs as if embarking on a journey towards the sun. It's easy with her, it always has been.

Arriving at the restaurant, she notices it's empty and turns to you in surprise. There are violinists playing her favorite symphony, and there are flowers, lots of flowers, all her favorites, in this life and the next. You propose to her, and she accepts, of course she does. She loves you. Almost as much as you love her. Even if you don't say those three words, she knows.

While you sip wine, she slowly reaches out towards you, revealing a dazzling engagement ring. The sparkle of the central stone captures the candlelight, making it twinkle like a distant star. The pure and radiant diamond is surrounded by smaller diamonds that resemble a halo of stars, symbolizing the love that surrounds them. The delicate band, made of gleaming white gold, seems tailor-made for her finger, adding a touch of elegance and sophistication to this special moment. On the side of the band, there's a tiny red hourglass, her favorite symbol, intricately carved, reminding you that your time together is eternal.

It's a perfect night.

Your hands touch across the table, and there are tears in her eyes. You've given them to her. Tears of happiness.

Always of happiness.

Plans for a beach house, adopted pets, and how to balance your schedules resurface as you wait for your favorite dish. You get lost in her eyes, and all doubts about the resignation letter you sent this morning disappear. You'll give up your multiversal missions for her, and Fury will understand. He has to.

"Baby, are you listening?" She says with that raspy voice you adore.

"Sorry, got lost in your eyes," you say, caressing her hand in yours.

"Silly. I've always loved that absent-minded side of you, but love, I need your full attention. We need to choose our trip." She holds your chin, smiling, and you look into those big eyes again. Tell her what you feel. Tell her she's your soulmate.

You sigh and gather your courage.

"Natalia, I-"

A red laser catches your attention as it reflects behind her. You instinctively turn your head to see what's happening. The tranquil atmosphere of the restaurant is abruptly shattered as an armed group storms in. A tear gas grenade is thrown. Chaos unfolds before your eyes as you pull your fiancée to the ground.

Her eyes widen in terror as events unfold faster than you can process. Your gun is in your bag, but before you can react, dozens of shots ring out in the restaurant. The world around you seems to slow down as you notice guns pointed at you and Natalia. You flip the table to shield her and engage in hand-to-hand combat with the attackers, using your combat knife.

The sound of rolling metal grabs your attention, and time seems to freeze for a terrible moment. Two fragmentation grenades roll toward her.

Your heart races as you know you need to act fast. With all the strength left in you, you throw yourself over your fiancée, covering her with your own body, like a protective barrier. Your eyes squeeze shut, anticipating the imminent impact of the explosions that would change everything.

The air is torn by the deafening sound of the grenades exploding. The force of the impact shakes both of you violently. When the smoke and chaos begin to dissipate, you slowly open your eyes.

You can feel the fragments on your skin, but none of that matters as you look down, realizing the tragedy. Natalia is lifeless, unable to withstand the explosions. Tears mix with dust and smoke as you watch her, unable to believe the devastating loss you've just suffered.

Pain and shock mingle as you helplessly watch, unable to use your healing factor to save her. You feel pain, not just physical, but mental. You feel hatred. You rise with difficulty, killing one member of the tactical group after another. Bullets tear through your skin and lodge on it, but all you feel is Natalia's blood beneath your hands.

Then, you feel nothing.

★

A casket is positioned in the center of the room, and the medications in your system aren't enough to make you ignore the looks of pity your friends direct at you.

You see the quiet Maximoff twins sitting on the stairs, accompanied by their niece, Kate. They don't smile. None of them do.

No one in the room does.

Everyone misses her, you know. She's gone, leaving a void in your chest. Your eyes wander to your own hand, finding the gold ring she gave you as a promise of the future. A future that never came and that the body in the center of the room announces will never come.

Steve comes to you and crouches to meet your eyes. He speaks, but you don't understand. You realize that his eyes have always been similar to hers; she has beautiful eyes. She had beautiful eyes. You need to get used to using the past tense again. You always do.

Steve stops talking and just holds your good hand. Your body has scars from the night of the attack, and even though you're medicated, his touch hurts, even if it's comforting. It's not soft enough. Nothing ever will be. His hands aren't as gentle as hers. Hers, cold from the absence of life. Still, you lean on him as you shed another waterfall of tears.

Steve holds you tighter.

Wanda, your best friend, takes over after a while. You dive into the woman's embrace, knowing all eyes are on you.

The silence in the room is deafening, and you want to scream. You want to scream the pain you feel for having lost the love of your life once again.

"Tragedy will follow you when you allow yourself to love her."

The words echo in your mind, like a dark reminder of a painful past. The curse of love, a prophecy that seems to haunt your existence. You remember the first time you heard it, when an ancient seer looked deep into your eyes and whispered this warning.

You should have believed it.

The urge to scream overwhelms you; you want to break everything. Every picture chosen by her, but instead, you take a deep breath and try to remember something that brings you relief. A memory. Like your Natalia taught you.

☆

You remember how you got here. Nick Fury gave you a mission, and you completed it. You always did, but a stray bullet found its way between your ribs. Hearing your strange breathing made your agents panic, and they brought you unconscious to the medbay.

Even though you had said that was forbidden.

You didn't want to meet her again. That red-haired woman, Natalia, had been assigned to your battalion. You were sure Fury had pulled some strings to make it happen.

"A gift," he said. After completing so many missions successfully, Fury found it interesting to bring her back into your life. Since you started working for him as a multiversal agent, meeting the current version of that woman was something that happened often.

She was your canonical event, the only standard thing that remained independent of your universe at the moment. Sometimes it took a while, and you had to travel to distant lands to find her, other times you could meet her in a cafe. After several encounters in different universes, you stopped searching for answers. Maybe she was your soulmate, but you had lost enough to believe in that.

"Look who finally showed up," a familiar voice interrupts your train of thought. "I was starting to suspect you were just a ghost," Natalia says, raising an eyebrow.

It's the first time you've heard her make that joke, and a smile escapes your lips. It's easy to laugh with her. It always has been. And your smile makes her smile even wider.

"Did you hope I'd get hurt? What kind of doctor are you?" You playfully retort, hiding the pain you felt.

"Don't say that, you silly. Let's see what you've got," she says, cutting your blouse with a half-smile, exposing your skin, which still struggled to recover from the wounds. Courtesy of the bullet that was still lodged in your rib.

"Just pull it out and let it heal; it's not a big deal. I would have done it myself if I hadn't passed out," you say, playing with your fingers. You don't like seeing her worried; it makes you anxious too.

"I read your file, and I know your super-healing won't save you from an infection. I'm going to do this right. Need anesthesia?" She looks at the rest of your body, searching for other places that need attention.

"No, I'm used to the pain," you say, trying to appear brave. It's not entirely a lie. You're used to the pain and prefer the feeling of a foreign object being removed over a needle piercing your skin. You hate needles.

"It shouldn't be like that. No one should get used to pain, not when science created this," Natalia smiles and shows you a syringe. "Local anesthesia. I'll need to locate the bullet inside you; it might take a while, and I don't want you to feel it."

"It's not necessary. I really don't mind the pain," you try to smile and look strong, but Natalia's eyes light up with realization, and you know you've lost.

"Are you afraid of needles?" She looks amused, and you nod with closed eyes.

"The feeling of something piercing my skin hurts, but the needle hurts me. As it goes in, my skin tries to heal, and that hurts. I don't like the sensation. I'd rather take ten bullets than have something stuck in my skin," you admit, looking at her. Her eyes are beautiful, you realize. They always have been.

"What's your happiest memory?" She says after a few seconds. You think she got lost in your eyes too. "Can you think about it for a minute for me?"

You nod and close your eyes, thinking of a beach afternoon you had with a green-eyed woman when the world was still simple, and you were good. You met her in a bookstore and invited her for coffee. The day ended up at the beach for some reason, with both of you barefoot, shouting at the sea.

"Ready. Injection applied," Natalia says, smiling, proud. And you can't believe her. She always surprises you, so you decide to give her a chance and say your name to her.

"Fury talked about you. Impressive healing factor and honor in missions. It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Natalia Romanov," she says with a smile, still focused on removing the bullet from inside you.

You smile as you feel her fingers touching your bones, but it's gentle and tickles. You offer to buy lunch. ☆

"We need to take her," Wanda whispers softly in your ear.

You nod and wipe away the tears. Approaching the casket, you observe her lifeless form, a peaceful expression on her face, and you hold her hand. The stiffness hurts, but you know this is your last chance to touch the woman you love in this universe. Your Natalia. The sweet and gentle woman you've loved since that morning.

You kiss her cold forehead and step away with teary eyes. The casket is closed, and you hate yourself for not having died with her that night.

☆

When Fury comes, two days later, you are sitting on the bed. Knowing he was coming, you organized your belongings and wrote in your journal. The room is quiet, the pain still overwhelming, but your determination remains unwavering.

Nick Fury enters the room, with his characteristically serious gaze and an envelope in hand. He observes you for a moment, understanding the magnitude of what you've just been through. With a silent nod, he approaches and hands you the envelope.

"I have a new mission for you," he says, with a mix of respect and regret in his voice.

You accept the envelope firmly, even though your heart is heavy. Inside it, you find detailed information about the next mission and the new universe you will be sent to.

"You don't have to do this," Fury adds, watching you fill a notebook.

But you look into his eyes and reply with determination, "I will do it. I will ensure that the next person to take my position has all the necessary information."

With that, you continue writing in your journal, sharing details, secrets, and strategies that only you know, and you wonder if you will ever be able to break this curse, to find the happiness that seems so elusive. A new you will replace you by morning, with a copy of all your memories, but you want her to be perfect. The twins deserve a godmother who remembers their favorite ice cream. Kate, a guardian. This universe, a sweet companion.

You leave the journal on the bed next to your wedding ring. Saying goodbye to the room one last time, you put your sketchbooks into a backpack and tie Natalia's ring on a cord around your neck. You will always remember her, you always do. It's your curse. The new mission represents an opportunity to get lost in a new universe, but deep down, you know a part of you will always be with your fiancée, in the memory of a love that couldn't be erased.

A portal opens, and you look at yourself in the mirror one last time.

And follow Fury through the portal.

☆

The SHIELD headquarters building is impressive, with its imposing architecture reaching towards the sky. It's your first time in this universe, but you are still in mourning, carrying the memory of the tragedy you left behind. This universe is destined for defeat in a few years, and you must prevent it.

As you walk through the well-maintained gardens surrounding the building, your legs moving almost automatically, you find yourself lost in thought. The green trees provide a glimpse of nature amid the rigidity of the concrete structure. You wonder what it will be like to work in a place like this, in a world so different from your own.

Suddenly, a soft voice interrupts your thoughts. "Hey, you're the new recruit?" It's a feminine voice, intriguing and confident. You turn to find an elegant woman with red hair and eyes that seem to capture all the depth of the universe.

"Yes, that's me," you reply, your voice slightly trembling with surprise at being approached so abruptly by the woman you buried a few days ago.

The red-haired woman smiles, an enigmatic smile that reveals only a small part of what she must know. "Welcome to SHIELD. I'm Natasha Romanoff. I'll show you how things work around here."

Even as she speaks, you can't help but feel that something is wrong in this universe. You take a deep breath and follow Natasha, determined not to repeat the same mistakes of the past.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff deserved better #black widow x reader #i will never recover #im back from the dead

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wolves-in-the-world · 8 months

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Goran Višnjić as Nikola Tesla in Doctor Who 12.4, Nikola Tesla's Night of Terror.

image descriptions below the cut

—

[1] A still from an episode of Doctor Who, showing Goran as Nikola Tesla in front of Niagara Falls with an audience of men in suits and top hats, only their backs shown to us. Nikola is gesturing towards the waterfall as he speaks. He's a tall, slim man of about fifty in an old-fashioned suit with a tailcoat, pinstriped trousers, a waistcoat and watch-chain. He has a moustache, and brown hair parted in the middle, a few inches long and styled neatly with a bit of a wave.

[2] Goran as Nikola Tesla gesturing towards a device I don't understand well enough to even describe except that it's two corrugated metal cylinders and electricity is arcing between them, blue and dramatic, while he gestures like a magician. His other hand is on a lever, his face obscured by a starburst of blue light.

[3] A close-up of Goran as Nikola Tesla with a lightbulb in the foreground gleaming with warm light. He's looking off-screen and smiling slightly, eyes large and grey-blue, eyebrows raised, creases in his forehead and around his mouth. He's wearing a butterscotch-yellow tie with a wing or tuxedo shirt collar.

[4] A side-on view of Goran as Nikola Tesla bent over a workbench doing something with a tool we only see as a faint gleam of metal. He's bent almost double, intent on his work, a curl of hair falling down above his forehead, his coat gone and his shirt sleeves rucked up to the elbow so that his arms are bare and evidently hairy. The scene's dark, lit only by a candle lamp.

[5] A view of Goran as Nikola Tesla looking at a figure mostly out of view, visible to us only as blonde hair at the side of the screen. Nikola's eyes are a little wide, his mouth slightly open, making him look bewildered, and perhaps wary - I thought of it as his "okay, either you or this situation is bonkers" face. His thumb is just visible at the bottom of the screen, suggesting he's gesturing or fidgeting with his hands.

[6] A view of Goran in a crowded street, no coat, standing almost a head taller than everyone else and gesturing with one hand in a way that signals frustration or defensiveness, his eyes closed, mouth open as he speaks. A few bowler hats are visible around him, and a few of Nikola's companions - Dorothy, a serious-faced woman of thirty or so with tightly curly hair and smart clothing; the Doctor, currently a woman with straight blonde hair looking curiously past Dorothy; and just a glimpse of Yasmin in the background in a flat blue hat.

[7] A side-on view of Jodie Whittaker as the Doctor and Goran as Nikola both paying rapt attention to a glowing green mechanical-looking ball in a dish, with the Doctor pointing her sonic screwdriver at it and Nikola bending down to watch at the opposite side of the desk, hands folded together as if he's fidgeting, intent on her work. The Doctor's in a long light grey coat with a hood, incongruous for the era, and it's clear she'd be a lot shorter than him if he weren't currently courting back pain.

[8] The same scene as before, minutes later - the Doctor only visible as blonde hair in the foreground, Nikola's face transformed like he's realised something wonderful, eyes on the Doctor and leaning forward slightly, or still leaning on the desk. His mouth is open as he talks, his eyes bright, skin creasing faintly at the corners with a real smile.

[9] The same scene as before, seconds later. Goran as Nikola is looking to the side, no longer smiling but serious and thoughtful.

[10] The same scene as before, seconds later. Nikola is looking back at the Doctor and raising his eyebrows in a question at something she said, his forehead creasing, his expression perhaps a little doubtful.

[11] A close-up of Goran as Nikola in a room with warmer and dimmer lighting, his hair coming loose a bit as short curls on his forehead, frowning as he talks to someone off-screen. The angle exaggerates his nose, emphasises the lines around his mouth.

[12] A different view of the scene, zoomed out. Nikola is bent over a worktable beside Yasmin, a young woman with curled hair and a smart navy-blue jacket, and they're looking at each other as though discussing a problem, Nikola folding or rubbing his hands together. The desk of a mess of wires and oddments, lit bulbs in metal cages and what might be the odd green ball from earlier.

[13] Nikola and Yasmin in a very different location, dimly lit, with strange red lights in the background and a green light over their faces. (They're on an alien spaceship.) Yasmin is looking down at the floor like she's stunned, mouth open, and Nikola is holding her arm like he's just pulled her back, but his eyes are on something or someone else we can't see. His eyes are wide, his expression startled and openly afraid.

[14] Nikola and Yasmin still on the spaceship, blurry machinery behind them, but Nikola is almost level with Yasmin now and they're standing close, both looking at a third party off-screen. Yasmin's expression is one of distaste and a little anger, and Nikola's eyebrows are drawn down, expression somewhere between bewildered and worried.

[15] A different scene, different lighting - deep blue in the background, warm light on Nikola's face. It's an odd angle, his head ducked as though looking at something, his expression serious.

[16] A different scene, perhaps daytime with electric lighting, Nikola in conversation with someone off-screen who's clearly shorter than him. His hair's a little disarrayed, eyebrows raised and forehead creased, but there's something of a smile to his eyes and his mouth that gentles it.

[17] The same scene, seconds later, slightly zoomed in. Nikola's eyebrows are lower, forehead still creased and eyes a little scrunched, like he doesn't understand yet what the other person means. There's something tender about it still.

[18] A different room, darker, Nikola grinning while the Doctor is mostly off-screen, just a little of her hair visible, except she's raising a hand for a high-five that he isn't reciprocating. Creases are splayed out from his eyes, deep ones around his mouth, his nose sharp from this angle.

[19] A different view of the high-five moment, focusing on the Doctor as she realises he doesn't know to reciprocate - the high-five wasn't invented yet - and starts to lower her hand. Her mouth is wide open, teeth showing, somewhere between a grin and talking, and her body language is open exuberance. The creases around Nikola's eyes are still very visible from this angle, though most of his face isn't.

[20] A view of Goran as Nikola with his eyes closed as if he's blocking something out, and a look of forbearance and faint frustration on his face.

[21] A side-on view of Goran as Nikola, a shorter man in the background and the TARDIS behind them both, its windows glowing white. Nikola's expression is determined and a little grim, more hair curling messily against his forehead.

[22] A view of Goran as Nikola outside, trees in the background, a blurry blue-white sky and what might be yellowish grass. He's wearing old-fashioned aviator goggles on his forehead, where they're pushing his hair up so it's even messier, and he's looking down at something with a troubled expression.

[23] A view of the Doctor and Goran as Nikola in the TARDIS, the scene awash in electric blue and peach-pink, and no other lighting. The Doctor's leant over the TARDIS controls doing something there and looking back at Nikola, who has picked up some sort of contraption and is looking down at it, expression either troubled or focused. The light on his face is blue, throwing his features into sharp and unflattering relief.

[24] A view of Goran as Nikola in the TARDIS still, the lighting blue, the angle of his shoulders suggesting his hands are on his hips, and his expression now one of open joy. His eyes are large, his mouth open and smiling slightly, soft creases on either side.

[25] A view of Goran as Nikola on the street, looking with his head tilted at someone in the foreground - barely visible, except for the bowler hat. Nikola's expression is tolerant, a restrained smile with narrow eyes, and his hands are probably clasped behind his back.

[26] A view of Goran as Nikola on the street, now talking to the Doctor, only the back of her head visible. Nikola's in the same pose as before, hands behind his back, only leaning slightly towards her now, his expression warm as he talks to her. The creases around his eyes are back, and it's another angle that emphasises his nose.

[27] The same view as before, only now Nikola's ducked his head, almost like he's shy, or needs a moment to collect himself. The creases have gone from his eyes, but the smile's still there at his mouth.

—

#Goran Višnjić #Goran Visnjic #doctor who #nikola tesla's night of terror #orig #genuinely just a screenshot dump please excuse the various lighting crimes #this was my exposure to the actor playing a genuinely nice guy and it turned my entire brain on its head thank you #he does such a great job with this I'm just thrilled he gets to play sweet characters too #also slightly offended the doctor didn't adopt him. c'mon doctor you need a nerd friend and he needs to be reminded he's brilliant c'mon #timeline shmimeline you could at least be penpals #anyway tumblr increasing the maximum number of images per post to thirty was dangerous and this is why #I should have to pare it down further but that's not happening. enjoy!#note that I do image descrips like this because I've found alt text doesn't always work on mobile. maybe only 'cos I say so much though.#also image descrips remain a mortifying experience. now all of tumblr knows I'm not normal about this man.#I didn't know it before either ffs

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