#never really paid much attention to the met gala but i found those

[friedpestochicken]

Icons

#maria sharapova #serena williams #venus williams #tennis #never really paid much attention to the met gala but i found those #icons fr #wta #met gala #met gala 2024

[soulmate-game]

part 2 (of that new bio!dad fic)

Dick whipped his head over to Bruce, who could feel the heavy gazes of all his children as if they were physical. If they had had heat vision like Clark, he would have already been reduced to a puddle of mush. Bruce shifted, the only sign of his discomfort, but he recognized that the middle of a gala was no place for this discussion. There were too many busybodies trying to listen in for the latest gossip. So he plastered on a smile that he couldn’t quite feel, and held a hand out to Marinette. He was careful to keep a good distance though, and left the choice for contant purely up to her.

The young woman looked down at his hand, then back to his face. Damian had been shocked silent by what she had to say, and perhaps even more by the all too telling way that Bruce hadn’t so much as implied that she was lying, and the look he was giving her was making her a little uncomfortable. Yes, she hadn’t planned on interacting with her father more than just the years-overdue confrontation she had just done, at least not while at the gala… but her plans always left room for improvisation. She could make this work.

With a soft sigh, Marinette extended her own hand— half the size of Bruce’s, he noted almost immediately with a rush of illogical fondness— and grasped his lightly. She couldn’t help but notice the way his impossibly blue eyes brightened, no different than her own when she was particularly happy, or the way his mouth twitched with a barely suppressed beam. Instead, he controlled himself enough so that the only smile he gave would look professional and entirely in character to the nosy socialites still spying on them, and led them out onto the dance floor.

What everyone else saw was the unfairly charming Bruce Wayne giving his young guest of honor a simple dance. Just a basic swirl around the floor that every other social elite had learned when they were five. Clearly he was taking it easy on the self-made girl, who probably didn’t have experience with such dances. Humoring the accomplished young woman with his approval for a moment before he would slink back to his family or patrol the crowds and make the necessary greetings and meaningless chatter.

What his family saw was Bruce taking time to slow his steps, not for Marinette to keep up but rather to prolong the event. What they saw was the grace in Marinette’s steps as she never once faltered, and that Bruce was careful to take his cues from her instead of the other way around. He only led the dance in technicality, Marinette had all the real control.

What they saw was a father’s first dance with his daughter.

“Eighteen,” Dick whispered, eyebrows drawn low. “She said she’s almost eighteen.”

“Well, that lines up doesn’t it?” Jason asked gruffly, his own gaze never leaving the dancing duo. “We were planning on doubling up your big thirtieth birthday party as your eighteenth adoption anniversary,” he reminded his brother, who just made a slightly distressed noise in the back of his throat. Whether it was at the reinforcement of his adoption coming only months after Marinette being put up for adoption, or the fact that he was turning thirty, nobody could really tell.

“Hurt,” Cassandra spoke up from behind them, looking incredibly concerned as she watched the dance. “Uncertain.”

Stephany rolled her eyes, fidgeting from her quickly building energy. Anger was making her restless. “Of course she’s hurt. Bruce replaced her, with a boy he knew virtually nothing about, not even that long after she was born. How do you think that made her feel, when she found out?” Stephany let out a little growl, grabbing a flute of champagne from a passing server and downing it in one gulp. She ignored Dick protesting that she wasn’t of age yet, which made her wrinkle her nose. “Only one more year, Dickhead. Get over it, I need the buzz.”

“Well,” Barbara sighed and maneuvered her wheelchair around the group so that everyone could see her. “Nothing we can do right now but be supportive and watch Bruce like a hawk so he doesn’t make this worse,” she stated easily, not looking even the least bit ruffled by the news despite the disturbed glitter in her eyes.

“... Guys,” Tim spoke up, not looking at any of them. “Who wants to volunteer for Damian duty?” At first glance, it might seem like Tim was thinking about his own first disastrous meeting with the younger boy. Once everyone paid attention though, they could see that the truth was that Damian had snuck away and Tim was pointedly looking at a slightly hidden-away staircase to the second floor.

“Shit,” Dick muttered, but before he could say another word Jason shoved him back and started towards the stairs.

“No, not this time Dicky. I’ll talk to the brat.”

Back on the dancefloor, Bruce and Marinette broke away without any fanfare at the end of the song. If Bruce tried to hold her eyes for a moment too long, nobody noticed besides his observant children, and two of Marinette’s protective friends.

Then, just to make sure that nobody caught on with the help of hindsight, Bruce said something vaguely polite and praising, which Marinette accepted with flawless, distant poise. And they went back to their own groups, Bruce quickly noting that two of his sons were missing. He raised an eyebrow, about to ask why when a presence behind him caught his attention. Unlike Marinette and Chloe, this newcomer was not at all trying to hide their approach or be sneaky about it, even though Bruce couldn’t hear any footsteps that were close enough to belong to the mysterious entity. Closing his mouth, Bruce turned around only to be greeted by yet another vaguely familiar face. Bright green eyes bore into his, unreadable.

“Mister Wayne,” the newcomer greeted, voice warm but stiff. If the Waynes hadn’t all had years of recognizing when a person was only pretending to be cordial, they never would have suspected that the boy was anything but pure-heartedly happy to be there. But they did have that experience, and thus they instantly honed in on the very well-hidden fact that he had a bone to pick with them. Or, more probably, with Bruce.

He cut an impressive figure, for all that he was lithe muscle instead of bulk. Hair that was lighter than Chloe’s, less like cloth-of-gold and more like sunlight glinting off of wheatfields. It somehow hung in gravity-defying tufts, yet perfectly arranged to evoke a calming aesthetic. Like the fluff of a long-haired cat, almost, and it looked just as fluffy and hypnotizing. It contrasted with his emerald eyes, impossibly vibrant in their gleam. And the suit he wore was decidedly top-notch, much like the other two they had met from his class. He was daring, in a dark silver suit that slightly shifted in the light, green accents that matched his eyes standing out strikingly against the collars and trim, and coiling in tantalizing swirls at the cuffs. The lining of the suit jacket was done in a dark green that could almost pass for black in the right lighting, adding a layer of both drama and mystery as it peeked out at the back of his collar, the insides of his sleeves if he moved just the right way, at the bottom hem of the jacket when he turned or bent just so. And with his notoriety in the modeling world? He always knew exactly how to move or place himself to get the reactions he wanted. And he was clearly showing off the craftsmanship of his suit just then as he faked adjusting his cufflinks and lifted his head just the right amount to both look challenging and let the dark green on the back of his collar flash in the light in such a way that Bruce and those nearest him wouldn’t be able to miss the brief reveal of color.

“Adrien Agreste,” Bruce greeted back, eyebrows pulling down in slight confusion. Normally the topic of clothing was far from his genuine interest, but in this particular case it was an intriguing, and possibly even concerning, observation. So he said next; “That suit is not of your father’s usual style of design.”

Adrien scoffed, straightening out his suit’s jacket and making the obsidian buttons glint. “Of course not. I’ve started my rebellious phase— or, well, I finally started being blatant enough about it that my father noticed anyway,” the way his lips curled was decidedly not very attractive, but painted a vivid picture of a son who despised the way he was treated. Adrien quickly wiped the distasteful expression away and replaced it with a camera-ready smile. “I’m wearing one of Marinette’s designs, much to his chagrin. She insisted on making this for me as soon as she heard that my father was planning on sending me in a white suit.”

Bruce quickly caught on, and sighed. How long would the gala go on for, again? He didn’t remember what time it was anymore. “Your friend Chloe already got a pretty clear warning in. I suppose you know as well?”

Adrien’s grin darkened with mischief, and he nodded all too happily. “Of course! Marinette told me almost as soon as she found out, a few years ago. You see, we had to put down a very solid rule about secrets between the two of us. She has a bad habit of trying to shoulder the entire world’s problems and not tell anyone about it, if you don’t pay close enough attention,” his voice was deceptively light but his eyes were hard, warning. “And let’s just say, I have a lot of experience with bad father figures. I can recognize them a mile away by now. The signs of neglect, of apathy,” his eyes suddenly lightened when he saw how Bruce’s throat visibly caught, how the man didn’t seem to realize he had stopped breathing. Maybe he was being a little to mean, Adrien thought. So he let the dark slip out of his eyes, and his smile turned more genuine. “You don’t have those signs. You looked at Marinette like you were both the happiest and most miserable man in the world at the same time. But you can’t change what you did to her, Mister Wayne. If you want some advice from Marinette’s oldest friend?” Adrien held out a closed fist.

Bruce took a second to realize what was happening, too busy trying to recover from his situational whiplash and wave of relief. Once he caught back up to the present, however, he held out his open palm and let Adrien drop something into his hand.

To his shock, it was a pen, engraved with the name he recognized as Marinette’s biological mother. He also recognized it as a popular model of pen-knife. He raised his eyes to Adrien, who winked.

“Marinette doesn’t know I had this made. And she has a lot of tricks that might surprise you, but what she wants more than anything is stability. If you try to give her that, show that you care and you want her safe— and then prove that you’re gonna stay— then maybe you can repair the damage you’ve done. It won’t be easy though, Mari is the single most stubborn person I’ve ever met. And I grew up with Chloe.”

Bruce closed his hand around the pen, swallowing a lump in his throat. He couldn’t quite figure out why, but Adrien’s faith in him and his help… somehow felt significant. He nodded to the young model.

“Not to worry, I have experience with stubborn,” he glanced back at his other kids with a small smirk. None of them were the least bit repentant. “And I do want to stay. Thank you for the advice.”

Adrien shrugged. “Don’t thank me. If you hurt her again, you’ll never see my revenge coming. It can be rather… catastrophic,” with that ominous threat, Adrien bowed dramatically and turned to leave and do some rounds charming the elites. Bruce tucked the pen in one of his hidden pockets, but stayed silent after that. He had a lot to mull over.

—*—*—*—*—*

Damian leaned on the railing of the balcony, looking out over the gardens behind the gala’s venue. He was glaring at nothing, and his hands trembled from where they gripped the rail. It was five minutes, a little longer than he had expected but not that odd considering everyone’s distraction over Marinette, before he heard the glass doors behind him creak open.

“Yo,” Jason greeted, knowing it was better not to catch the boy off guard. None of them were good with surprises anymore, for good reason. It was always best to announce their presence before they made someone react violently on accident. Damian’s shoulders relaxed a little— not a lot, but enough for Jason to notice. The older man sighed, walking up and leaning on the rail next to his little brother. “What’s on your mind, kid?”

“That could have been me,” he almost instantly blurted. It was still hard talking about his feelings, but certain things were easier with Todd. This was, apparently, one of them. “If Mother hadn’t kept me a secret.”

“I don’t think so,” Jason disagreed, shrugging. “There are several big differences here. For one, Marinette was born three years before you were. By the time you were born, he already had Dick and he would have only been a year, max, away from taking me in. Which means he already had built up his problem with taking in kids, and nothing would have gotten him to give up a chance at raising you. With or without Batman getting in the way.”

“But then why—” Damian growled. “Why did he give her up?”

“Because he’s an idiot,” Jason remarked bluntly. “You know how he is. He didn’t have a kid at the time. Hell, Bruce would have only been twenty-two back then. He only adopted Dick on impulse because Dick reminded him of himself, but before all of that shit? He probably made a million excuses about not being able to raise a baby and be Batman at the same time. About his life being too dangerous for a kid. Which, yes it is, but that clearly didn’t stop him later.”

“She’s older,” Damian muttered, this time softer.

“Yup.”

“Her mother wasn’t an assassin, probably. She designs. I hate to admit it, and you are never to repeat it to anybody, but her work that we’ve seen so far is impressive. She can clearly charm even the most stuck-up of gotham’s upper crust.”

“Yeah,” Jason agreed neutrally, his eyes never leaving Damian.

“Father won’t need me. He already doesn’t have much patience—” Damian was cut off by a flick to the nose. “Hey!”

“Not my fault you’re being stupid,” Jason defended himself. “Look, B’s actually been real patient with you these past few years. I mean, when was the last time he yelled at you? Or told you that stupid ‘justice not vengeance’ line?”

Damian opened his mouth, then closed it. After another moment, he replied; “Almost two years.”

Jason nodded. “It might take him way too long, but he can still learn new tricks. Especially after that mess with Heretic, he’s been trying really hard to be better to you. He still screws up, because I think we all know by now that he’s a bigger mess than any of the rest of us and that’s an accomplishment, but he’s trying. He doesn’t keep you around because he needs you. He’s got plenty of us around if all he wanted was soldiers— though none of us would stick around if we thought that’s all he wanted.”

Damian flexed his jaw. He was still the most violent of the kids, besides Jason. He saw Bruce rubbing his forehead or pinching his nose far too often at some of his decisions or comments. He was stubborn, impatient, reckless.

But hadn’t Bruce himself told him on several occasions that he wasn’t trying to make him a perfect soldier? Hadn’t Bruce himself said that he just wanted Damian to grow into himself?

It was just really hard to swat away those stupid voices in Damian’s head. Voices of the past, mostly, old dialogue he had never actually forgotten. That he merely pretended had never affected him. The “you’re too violent”s, the “that’s not how we behave, Damian”s. All the old lectures, the old fights. They echoed like stupid little gremlins of doubt.

“...Marinette has his eyes.”

“Don’t beat yourself up over something like that,” Jason’s voice was soft, but gruff at the same time as he cuffed Damian over the head. “You didn’t choose to be born, idiot. And despite being a little demon, none of us would reverse it, You’ve saved all our skins at least once. And besides,” he nudged Damian a little with a grin. “You’re not half bad, nowadays.”

Damian chuckled. “That makes one of us.”

“Hey!”

@peterxwade24 @mizzy-pop @maskedpainter @ladybug-182 @khneltea @itsmeevie01 @fusser90 @woe-is-me0 @lolieg @moonlightstar64 @jayjayspixiepop

#maribat #platonic jasonette #platonic daminette #platonic brucinette #ml x dc #mlb x dc #dc x mlb #dc x miraculous #maribat fic

[sylvie-writes]

❅ Christmas Gala ❅

❅ pairing: ransom drysdale x reader 

❅ prompt: “Out of all the seats, and you willingly choose the one beside me? Should I be concerned?” @/coffin-prompts

❅ summary: ransom has a plus one to take to the gala, so he decides to extend the invitation to his assistant. it’s nothing more than business, right?

❅ warnings: slight age-gap, a few curse words and that’s about it.

❅ word count: 2,424

❅ author’s note: i know i have a lot of requests to write, but i needed to get the gears turning if that makes any sense. i’m trying to test the waters here. once again, i’m not going to be cranking out fics every week, but here’s me shooting my shot. the story may seem slow in the beginning, but it will pick up, i promise!

(gif below is not mine, nor do i take credit for it) 

***please excuse any mistakes***

December 24th, the night of the annual Christmas Eve Gala. Every year, prestigious and wealthy families were invited to the charity event held at the Center for the Arts in Boston. Among those who were invited, were the Thrombeys and Drysdales. Your boss, Ransom, also happened to be invited to the event and for some unusual reason, he decided to extend the invitation to you as the invite included a plus one. 

A knock on the door of your apartment distracted your thoughts from your focused typing. Standing from your seat at the table, you curiously made your way to the front. You hadn’t invited anyone over and rarely did you receive solicitors. 

Taking no time, you opened the door to be greeted by an older man, holding a gorgeous red midi dress hanging inside of a plastic dry clean bag. With furrowed brows, you quickly shot your eyes to the tag on the man’s uniform. The name of the local dry cleaner embroidered onto the pocket. 

“Delivery for (y/n)?”

Nodding uneasily you reached forward and took the dress from the smiling man who left as soon as the dress was in your hold. You held the hanger with one hand and with the other dug to see the ticket along with the Michael Kors tag. 

You only knew one person who would do such a thing, and reading the name on the receipt confirmed your suspicions.

Ransom.

There was an hour and a half till Ransom would be here to pick you up. Honestly, before you were surprised with the dress, you were contemplating not going altogether. Diligently, you finished up Ransom’s schedule for the week and shut off your laptop, running to go and get ready. 

The person staring back at you in the mirror made even you swoon. Ransom had surprised you once again by having selected the correct size for you. A flattering sweetheart neckline fell comfortably on your chest as the off the shoulder sleeves hugged you just enough to where they didn’t slide. You ran your hands over the sides of your body, smoothing the dress out. Bringing your gaze down to your feet, you stepped forward to sleep your feet into the heels in front of you. Taking one last check in the mirror, you were satisfied with the look and decided to once more head to the front door. 

Searching through the small coat closet, you rummaged through the many jackets, eventually finding your most prized possession. Practically brand new, you slipped on the tan trench coat that you had bought with your first real paycheck a few years back. Right out of college, you hopped onto this job and for the past five years, you’ve worked for Ransom. The pay was good and you couldn’t complain. 

To some, this trench coat wouldn’t be anything, but to you, it was the most expensive thing you owned as it was also the first designer piece of clothing you had ever owned and purchased. Once the jacket covered your shoulders, a knock sounded on the door. With Ransom’s usual impeccable timing, you correctly assumed it was him as it was exactly 8 o’clock on the dot. 

You opened the door to see the man out of his usual sweater and slacks, but instead wearing a suit and tie, making your mouth water. Apparently he felt the same way as Ransom’s jaw slightly hinged opened and you giggled. Taking two fingers and gently pushing it back up.

“You’re staring, boss.”

Ransom shook his head and muttered out a quick “right.”

He held out an arm for you and you latched on, the two of you heading for his car. 

Arriving, you were met with Joni’s “friendly” shriek of your name. Linda paid no mind to your entrance and her scowl made you cower into Ransom’s hold. He reassuringly squeezed your arm and walked even closer to the family. In his usual cold manner, Ransom greeted his mother and then turned his attention to his father who was currently arguing with Walt. How all of them managed to piggyback onto the perks of having the Thrombey name, you’ll never know. 

As Ransom fueled his father and uncle’s argument, you wandered off to Meg who gave you a small smile. Currently, she was trying to get Jacob to talk, but he was too invested into whatever was playing on his phone. 

With a defeated sigh you went back to Ransom, running to him like a little mindless sheep. As much as you hated it, leeching onto Ransom around was the only thing to do since you felt so out of place at this event.

For what felt like a good hour, you were on your feet and unknowingly becoming Ransom’s arm candy. You both had made your way from the family and to the crowd. Filled with unease, you downed more flutes of champagne than you could count. All you knew is that jaws were moving and yet you didn’t hear or care to listen to a single word. 

At some point even Ransom had somehow managed to ditch you and with no one else to run to, you eventually found your way into the theater. The usher politely showed you around to a seat even though they were not assigned. You plopped down into the seat, taking off those awful heels seeing as no one else was in the theater. 

You sat in the empty space for what must have been a good half hour. Save for your phone, you were extremely bored and most of all tired, already fighting your eyelids that were heavily falling. At some point, chatter fell upon your ears and you quickly blinked the sleep out of your eyes. 

A few rows over, you could spot Linda and Richard, and then as you turned your head the other way, the rest of the clan was in sight. They all came from different directions, but ultimately ended up sitting behind you. Your eyes sifted through the crowd, although there was no sign of Ransom.

You had expected he’d be off with someone by now, but for some reason a small part of you had been expecting him to stay with you. A sad sigh left your lips and you then delicately crossed your legs over each other, leaning back in the chair. If Ransom was going to leave you all alone, you might as well enjoy the free show and hell, enjoy yourself. After all, it was once in a blue moon that you got all dolled up like this and truly had a good time. 

As much as Ransom acted like he didn’t care about you, you both knew that was the complete opposite. The little things he did allowed you to see that. Sometimes he would order you your favorite meal, or make you a cup of coffee for when you arrived at his house. As for tonight, Ransom knew how much you enjoyed plays and dances, hence why he invited you. In Ransom’s own way, that’s how he showed his love, through money and such. The man was raised that way which gave him the idea that this was the only way to love. Your heart ached for him as he didn’t know that there was more to love than money. Honestly, sometimes you did try to show him that, with sweet hugs and such. Like a grumpy old man, he’d grumble and try to push you off of him, but he really didn’t try hard enough. Just like a few hours ago, when he had let you hang off of his arm, which was a sign that Ransom was slowly easing into the whole idea.

The doors to the theater were harshly shut and the sound bounced off the walls, grabbing your attention. You lifted your head to scan around the room for Ransom’s face one last time when a hand grasped onto your shoulder.

“Looking for me, sweetheart?”

A cheeky grin was on the man’s luscious lips and it took everything in you to not lean forward and kiss away said grin. Instead, you just crossed your arms over your chest and scoffed with faux annoyance. Ransom threw his arm around your shoulders and brought his fingers up to the side of your face. With gentle strokes using the very tips of his soft fingers, Ransom brushed some hair behind your ear. Trying not to be bothered by his actions, you decided to speak up. 

“Out of all the seats, and you willingly choose the one beside me? Should I be concerned?”

As the lights go down and the show begins, you see Ransom shake his head with a slight smirk. As he does so, he lowers his hand from your hair and starts lightly tracing shapes on your bare shoulder. 

“I’m offended you’d think such a thing, (y/n). Can I not just sit with my lovely assistant who I love so much?”

Ransom was whispering in your ear at this point, but you could still hear the playfulness in his voice. A quiet laugh fell from your lips and you just shook your head disapprovingly.

“No, not after you ditched her in the lobby.”

Before Ransom can apologize, the show begins and your attention is now drawn towards the beautiful opening number. 

The show goes on, and you grow sleepy. It’s not that you weren’t enjoying the performances, no they were captivating, but you were just exhausted and definitely not one wired for these high strung events. You were tired from just merely pretending to be friendly and kind around these people. They had barely turned an eye to you since your last name wasn’t from an affluent family and you surely didn’t have a silver spoon resting on your lips. Especially with the title of “Ransom’s assistant” virtually floating over your head, the people you had met could have cared less if you were instead a dog on a leash. 

Ransom still had his arm wrapped around your shoulder and his dancing fingers were lulling you to sleep. With a soft yawn, you riskily laid your head on Ransom’s own inviting shoulder. He smiled sweetly at your trust and turned his head to place a delicate kiss on the crown of your head. Although the other Thrombeys surrounded you both, Ransom didn’t care. As far as he was concerned, their heads were too far up their asses for them to even notice your interaction with the man.

You hummed in content and snuggled a bit into his side. 

Once the show ended, Ransom gently shook you awake before anyone could see you had fallen asleep. He rose from his seat first and held out his hands for you. Sleepily, you placed them in his as the man helped you from your own seat. Unfortunately, the row of seats you were sitting in was long and you had sat smack dab in the middle, meaning you’d be standing a long while. At the moment, your back was turned towards Ransom. His radiating warmth made you more susceptible to the cold air of the room as it hit your once warm skin. Ransom noticed your chilly shaking as you ran your hands over your arms in a desperate attempt to warm yourself. Wasting no time, the man hurriedly shed off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders since your back was facing him. He placed his hands on your now-covered shoulders and leaned down to quickly kiss the base of your neck. Just as you were about to turn and face him, the line before you started to move, leaving you no time to do so.

Eventually you made it back into the lobby, where neither you or Ransom decided to speak up about the events that had just occurred. He hastily grabbed your hand and led you to the family where you had assumed you’d be socializing once more. With your free hand, you rubbed the sleep from your eyes, accidentally smearing your makeup and internally groaning as you did so. You were about to let Ransom know you were heading off to fix your makeup when instead you heard the man bidding goodbye to the family. 

“Ransom, where are we going?”

The man walked with determination and pulled you along with him, the two of you showing up at the coat check. The attendant reached over the counter as Ransom took the two jackets from the young man. He turned towards you and simply responded, “We are going home.”

You cocked your head to the side, confused as you thought he’d still want to socialize a bit. The night was still young as Joni liked to say and she said way more than you liked, too.

“I thought you’d want to hang out a bit more, Ransom?”

He continued walking out the door, but still held up his end of the conversation.

“I saw how tired you were and figured we should head out before it got any later.”

Stopping dead in your tracks and right outside of the building, you turned to the man with an unreadable expression. The freezing night wind hit your face like needles, yet you still stood in your place.

“Seriously? If that’s the case I could have just taken an Uber, you know. I’m not here to be a pain in your ass.”

Ransom shook his head and you looked up at him with squinted and suspicious eyes.

“You could never be a pain in my ass. Especially with all of the things you do for me.” The man looked down on you now. His eyes meeting your own. 

“First off, I would not have you ride in an Uber this late,” bringing his hand to your chin, he continued, “and second, this is what you do when you love someone… right?”

He looked almost sheepish now and you had to refrain from making some cutesy expression at his adorable face. Proud of his realization, you excitedly nodded and with great confidence, pressed your lips to his. 

Ransom brought his hands to your waist and pulled you even closer as if he could lose you by not doing so. The two of you then leaned away after some time, small and sweet smiles on both of your faces. Ransom held his hand out for you, leading you to the car and eventually to his house, where you’d spend your first night together enjoying precious time spent in each other’s company. 

taglist: @memissbee @tricereads @buckybarnesthehotshot @bval-1 @tonystankschild @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @turtoix @kelbabyblue @jakiki94 @aubreeskailynn @calirindo @lady-elena-adeline​ @siriuslyslyslytherin 

If I have messed up or you want to be removed, please do not hesitate to ask. Same goes for joining! 

#ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale imagine #ransom drysdale #Chris Evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine #sylvie writes christmas celebration

[misskikuwrites]

Piece by Piece (1/2)

Bederia Week 2021: Day 3 - First Kiss 

Bede/Gloria (dressedinpinkshipping)

Tags: Fluff, angst, alcohol spiking, underage drinking, leon/sonia ship reference, swearing

Words: 8,806

@bede-x-gloria

-

Gloria stared out the Sky Taxi window and into the night. The city of Wyndon was a glistening sea of lights below them, alive and vibrant as though unbothered by the late hour. As they flew closer to the Rose of the Rondelands, the elegant five-star hotel where the Gala was taking place in its grand ballroom, the nerves in Gloria's stomach began to tighten. She wove her fingers together on her lap to stop herself from wringing the delicate chiffon skirt of her violet dress. 

 Violet. Gloria clenched her jaw and swallowed the lump in her throat. Even now, her heart ached when she thought about him- about Bede. A week had passed since she'd ran out on him, since she'd realised how she felt towards him. It had been a week filled with tears. A week spent fighting the pain, the guilt, the fear. A week where she struggled to put the pieces of her heart back together. Fragile like broken glass, the wound was still raw. It hadn't been long enough

 She felt unbalanced. About to crumble at any given moment, ready to fracture. The impending Gala was more daunting to her than ever before, knowing that Bede would be there. There was no avoiding it. She'd sent him a short text, apologising her abrupt departure with the weak excuse that something had come up. Something she needed to attend to. 

 That much wasn't a lie, but she refused to read his reply. It hurt too much. She'd cried enough for a lifetime over the past few days, overcome by fear, and couldn't bear to find out how he'd judge her for it. Gloria let out a shaky sigh. She blinked hastily as tears pricked in her eyes, tilting her head back to stop them forming. She couldn't risk crying now, not after spending an hour - and a lot of money - getting her make-up done by a professional.

 Hop shifted closer to her on the plush seat. "Hey, don't worry. Everything'll be fine," he said, giving her arm a gentle, reassuring squeeze. 

 Even with Hop next to her, fear had taken hold inside her. Like a creeping vine, it wound around her heart, making its home in her chest, in her lungs, with a thousand thorns that pierced her flesh whenever she breathed. 

 "He's going to be there," Gloria said quietly. She didn't need to say his name. She couldn't, not without giving in to her tears. 

 "I know," Hop said, "but that doesn't mean anything's going to happen." 

 She pressed her lips firmly together. He was right, but trepidation seeped through her veins with every beat of her heart, filling her with fear. Drowning out Hop's voice of reason. 

 "I don't want to see him." Her lips trembled. Chest tightened. Gloria wanted to curl up as small as she could, to hide away, to vanish completely. 

 She didn't want to do this. 

 "There'll be tons of other people there, you probably won't even notice him!" Hop pointed out. "You'll be too busy dancing or talking with all the sponsors and famous people fighting for your attention. I doubt you'll have any time to worry about Be- about him at all." 

 He quickly cut himself off from saying Bede's name, but Gloria's heart thumped painfully in her chest, hard enough to make her wince. It wouldn't be difficult for her to avoid Bede- as Hop had said, there'd be dozens and dozens of people clambering to speak with her all night. The issue was her heart, the longing, the ache inside her that drew her towards Bede. It corrupted her, this feeling she despised.

 This love. 

 Gloria wrapped her arms around herself and sank further into the chair. "What if he knows?" she asked, her voice as quiet as a breath, faint and insecure. Full of fear. 

 "C'mon, Glo. There's no way he'd know," Hop said. He gave her arm a gentle rub, trying to comfort her. 

 Gloria let her vision blur, eyes falling closed. The lights out the window, tiny speckles like stars below, bloomed into ribbons of light. The glass was cold against her skin. Cold and hard, echoing how numb she felt. 

 "You know I'm not good at pretending," she said slowly. "I can't… hide my feelings well." 

 Gloria had never been good at that, hadn't seen the point in pretending to feel something she didn't. She couldn't fake it. She was an open book for anyone to read, and it had never been an issue.

 Until now. 

 Gloria felt vulnerable. Paper thin, as though everyone could see right through her. As though her heart was out in the open. 

 "You won't have to fake anything," Hop said. "Just be yourself. He can't read your mind, remember? He's your friend. If he does come up to you, act like nothing's changed, because nothing has changed." He nudged her with his elbow gently. "You said you've felt like this towards him for a while, right? If he didn't notice then, he won't notice now." 

 Gloria grimaced with a flash of pain. "I don't want to feel like this." Her voice caught. "I don't- I don't want to be in love." 

 Tears threatened to fall. She sucked in a breath and blinked rapidly to force them away again. She wasn't about to let the efforts of her make-up artist go to waste just because she couldn't stop herself from crying. 

 "Hey, love's not all that bad," Hop said. "You never know, maybe he feels the same about you-" 

 "That doesn't matter!" It came out in a beat of panic. Her heart clenched tight in distress, forcing a sob out of her throat. "It doesn't matter," she said again, softer this time. "Love only leads to pain. I don't… I don't want to go through that again." 

 Hop touched her arm. "Gloria…"

 "Sorry." She shook her head. "I'm being stupid again. I know you think it's ridiculous that I'm terrified of love." 

 "No, I…" He looked away. "I don't think it's ridiculous. Neither does your mum. Those of us who know what happened… we understand." 

 "But you still think I'm wrong." 

 Hop stifled a grimace, his expression twitching with regret. "I think… it's a shame that you won't give this a chance, that's all." 

 A chance. That was a risk she couldn't take. Gloria tried to shove her feelings away, to force them deep, deep into the back of her mind in the hope that she was strong enough to stop them from resurfacing. If she could get through tonight without crumbling to dust, then perhaps she could control this and keep those feelings at bay. It was a test, one she'd been practicing a week for. The Sky Taxi landed out the front of the Rose of the Rondelands hotel, and Gloria sat up straight. She took a deep breath and perfected her mask. 

 When the Sky Taxi door pulled open, she was no longer just Gloria, a simple girl from Postwick. She was Gloria, the Champion of Galar. She swept out of the carriage and into the blinding lights of camera flashes. Cries of her name filled the air, increasing in volume when she waved politely to the journalists with a smile. She felt like someone else. Someone more confident, more classy, someone who fit in the world of the elite and famous. The delicate make-up and stunning dress gave her a veil to hide behind. Her hair was styled into an elegant updo, fashioned with a French braid that trailed above her right ear.  Even her usually plain fringe was styled to fit, and she had soft wispy curls left to frame her face. It wasn't Gloria they saw, not really. They saw the Champion. 

 Behind her title, she could hide in plain sight. 

 Hop stepped up beside her, looking smart in his dapper, slim fitting navy suit, and he met her smile with one of his own, one that soothed away the final cracks in Gloria's mask. He offered her his arm, and she took it with practiced grace. The week they'd spent rehearsing paid off as they strode arm-in-arm with confidence through the doors.

 Gloria breathed the faintest sigh of relief as the doors closed behind them, shutting out the buzz of noise and lights from outside. Hop's eyes twinkled with unspoken pride as they were led through to the grand ballroom. It was as exquisite as last year, and Gloria found herself dazed for a moment. Chandeliers glistened like diamonds over the marble floor, the ceiling towered above them, held up by pillars carved with intricate designs. Interspaced between the pillars were glass windows and doors that fed out into the balcony, the night a wedge of darkness outside.  

Gloria forced herself to keep moving as heads turned towards her and Hop as their entrance was announced. Already, the ballroom was filled with people, most of whom she didn't recognise. People mingled in groups by tables overflowing with tiers of cakes, arrangements of fruit, and varying morsels of food the size of which would've better suited a Skwovet. Waiters expertly swept through the crowds, carrying crystal glasses bubbling with what Gloria assumed was something alcoholic. She tightened her grip on Hop's arm and nervously glanced from face to face, from group to group. Instinctively, unintentionally, seeking him out. 

 "Look, there's Lee and Sonia," Hop said, tapping Gloria's arm. 

 "Where?" She forcefully dragged her gaze to where Hop was pointing as he led her over to them. 

 Sonia brightened when she saw them approach, looking absolutely stunning in an off-the-shoulder teal dress. A slit in her skirt ran halfway up her high, showing off her long, slim legs. She wore heels that matched the colour of her dress, the height of which made Gloria blink in shock for a moment. In her heels, Sonia stood as tall as Leon. 

 "Oh, don't you two look so precious!" Sonia said, gesturing with the glass in her hand. "Reminds me of the first Gala Leon invited me to." 

 She leant closer to Leon, their arms comfortably intertwined. He smiled at her, his eyes soft with remembrance, and Gloria suddenly felt as though she'd missed something. 

 "That was years ago," Leon chuckled softly. 

 "You didn't tell me you'd be here, Lee," Hop said, lifting an eyebrow. "I didn't think they let ex-Champions attend." 

 "I'm here as the proprietor of the Battle Tower," Leon said. "Turns out that makes me important enough for an invite. And here I'd thought I'd had enough of these for a lifetime." 

 Gloria managed a smile as her attention drifted away from their group. She looked past Sonia, to where a band was playing by the dancefloor. Couples spun and twirled in time to the music, manoeuvring around each other in a perfectly choreographed synchrony. Gloria's heart thumped as she glanced between the dancers. None of them had his height or his build. None had platinum blond hair or curls like his, none had his elegance or poise. She swallowed thickly and looked away. Would Bede soon be dancing like that with a gorgeous woman in his arms? 

 That thought soured her mood more than it already was, filling her throat with nausea. She pulled away from Hop's arm and gave him a tight smile when he looked at her. 

 "I'm going to grab a drink," Gloria said. 

 She ducked around Hop towards a passing waiter. One of them had to have something non-alcoholic, and if they didn't, then surely they could bring her something that was. She made for the waiter as quickly as her heels would allow while also retaining her sense of refinement. In her haste, she almost collided with someone. 

 "Oh, sorry!" Gloria apologised, swallowing her yelp as she stopped herself a split second away from walking straight into the young man in front of her. He jolted just as she did, his bright blue eyes widening with recognition. 

 "You must be Gloria," he said, "the Champion, right?" 

 She straightened and gave him a smile. "That's me," she said with a sheepish laugh.

 Gloria distracted herself from her nerves by fingering the bracelet around her wrist. She touched each tiny star, the crystals sparkling pink in the light, and her mind drifted to the moment Bede had given it to her, to when he'd gently clasped it around her wrist and her skin had tingled at his very touch. She felt her cheeks warm. 

 Not now! Gloria stamped that memory out. Don't think about that now! 

 "What luck, running into the Champion of Gala before I've even had my first drink," the blond-haired stranger said, smiling gently at her. He held up the glass in his hand, the clear liquid spotted with tiny bubbles. "Here, why don't you have mine? You seemed to be after that waiter before you almost barreled me over." 

 Gloria flushed darker. "Oh, um, I can't drink. Alcohol, I mean. I'm not eighteen yet." 

 "No need to worry, then. It's non-alcoholic sparkling wine," he said, offering it to her again. "I don't drink either, although I could if I wanted to. I'd rather not dull my senses, you see." 

 She accepted his glass, peering into it for a moment. As the stranger had said, there was no evidence around the rim that he'd tried it, and so she gave it a tentative sip. It tasted much like it smelled, though sweeter than expected. 

 "Thank you," Gloria said, appreciative that she didn't have to continue chasing a waiter. "I don't think I caught  your name?" 

 The stranger smiled. "That would be because I hadn't given it to you, yet. I'm Elliott Murdoch. It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Gloria." 

 She smiled back despite how strange it was to have people she'd never met know so much about her. She doubted that she'd ever get used to it. 

 "It's nice to meet you too," Gloria said. She filled his name into the back of her mind before pausing. "Hold on- Murdoch? As in, like Richard Murdoch?" 

 Elliott gave a short laugh. "That would be my father, yes." 

 Gloria's heart plopped into her stomach and churned with her nerves. She knew who Richard Murdoch was, almost everyone in Galar did- he owned most of the newspapers, the magazines, that circulated. He was one of the richest men in Galar, and could possibly be the richest now with Rose out of commission. 

 And she'd almost run into his son. 

 Elliott must've seen her pale, for he touched her shoulder gently. "Don't worry, I've got little to do with my father's empire at the moment. I find that associating myself with him tends to limit the amount of people comfortable around me," he said. "I'm sure you must experience something similar, being the Champion." 

 Gloria found her nerves loosening slightly. "I think so," she said. "People see me as the Champion, rather than as myself. It can get a bit exhausting, sometimes…" she trailed off, and slowly drank from her glass. She'd begun looking over his shoulder, her attention shifting between the people behind him. Searching the crowds. 

 Where is he?  

"I know what you mean," Elliott said, and Gloria snapped attention back to him. 

 Arceus, what am I doing? She scolded herself. Pay attention to who you're talking to! 

 She nodded stiffly, trying to listen to Elliott as her mind threatened to drift away again. Every flicker of movement in the corner of her eyes, the people moving about, the couples dancing, itched at the back of her mind. He would be here somewhere. With his date- perhaps with the one he'd spoken about to her, the one he liked. 

 Gloria's stomach twisted into knots. She lifted her glass to her lips and downed the rest to force away the nausea rising up her throat. Even now, Bede managed to invade her thoughts. Just knowing he was here, somewhere, sent something crackling and fluttering away in her chest, and filled her with a longing to find him. A longing that came with fear. 

 Elliott tapped Gloria's shoulder, giving her a sheepish smile. "I believe your date is staring me down," he said, and gestured behind her. 

 Gloria glanced over her shoulder, and caught Hop's gaze. He raised an eyebrow at her, his brow furrowed with the slightest hint of concern. A question in his eyes. 

 "I should get back to him," Gloria said. She gave Elliott an apologetic smile to which he chuckled. 

 "Yes, well, we wouldn't want your boyfriend to get the wrong idea." 

 Gloria stiffened. All the muscles in her body went rigid. Tight. "He's not my boyfriend," she said. Nausea returned with a vengeance, and her heart began to thump heavily in her chest, each beat hollow with dread. "Hop's just a friend." 

 "Ah, my apologies, then," Elliott said with a sweet smile. "I'd heard you were dating the young professor's assistant, but really, of all people, I should know to take what I read in magazines with a heap of salt." 

 Gloria forced a smile. The polite breath of laughter she tried to give died on her lips. "Those magazines have… never been right." 

 "Well, since I've received information directly from the source, I'll be sure to tell our writers to stop publishing nonsense rumours about you two," Elliott said.

 "I'd really appreciate that, thank you." His assurance lifted a weight from the pit of her stomach. "It was nice meeting you, Elliott," Gloria said, giving him a grateful nod. 

 "As it was meeting you." Elliott flashed a charming smile, and said with a wink, "I'll have to ask you for a dance later, if your date doesn't mind me monopolizing a bit more of your time." 

 She shot a glance over her shoulder. Hop turned away unsubtly, but she caught Leon's eyes. His expression was unreadable, almost stern, but when their eyes met, it vanished beneath his smile. The look on Leon's face had lasted but a moment, and it still managed to disconcert her as she headed back to them. His attention remained on Elliott for a while longer. 

 "Who was that?" Hop asked, eyeing Gloria's empty glass. "You didn't get me one?"  

"Sorry." She shrugged. "Elliott offered it to me, and he only had one." 

 "Elliott Murdoch," Leon said. His smile had faded, leaving his gaze distant. 

 "Wait, that was Elliott Murdoch?!" Sonia gasped. "As in, heir to the Murdoch empire? Son of Richard Murdoch, the wealthiest man in Galar? That Elliott Murdoch?!" 

 Gloria shrunk, her grip tightening around her glass. With Hop, Sonia and Leon staring at her, it was like she was being interrogated, forced under a spotlight. 

 "I think so…?" Gloria said meekly. "Is he that well known?" 

 "Of course he is!" Sonia gaped at her. "Don't tell me you didn't know who he was?" 

 "He has a certain… reputation," Leon said slowly, pausing as though he was mulling over his words. 

 "What did he say?" Sonia asked. Her eyes sparkled with interest. "What did you talk about? Anything interesting? He offered you a drink- did he ask you to dance?" 

 "Um, we just introduced ourselves," Gloria said. "We didn't talk for that long." 

 Sonia sighed, deflating. "Aw, too bad. These functions get boring and tedious real quick without anything interesting to talk about." She took a long sip of her wine, and hooked her arm around Leon's, leaning against him slightly. He smiled at her warmly. "And the only thing interesting around here are the people, most of which I'd never see in person if not for Leon." 

 "So you've become a gossip," Hop huffed. "Never thought you had it in you, Sonia." 

 "That's Professor Sonia to you!" She rested her head against Leon's shoulder, peering at Hop with one eye open. "You might not be wearing your lab coat, but you're still my assistant! Don't make me fire you for insubordination!" Her lips, shiny with a coat of crimson lipstick, pursed into a pout. 

 Hop recoiled in shock, while Leon chuckled. 

 "Don't mind her," Leon said, his affection clear in his voice, "she gets a bit testy when she's had wine." 

 Gloria looked away. Their casual display of affection, the tenderness in Leon's eyes, made her chest tighten. She swallowed as a vice constricted around her throat. The conversation before her became a blur of noise, her concentration fading, and her gaze drifted past Sonia to the people standing on the opposition side of the room.  

Her heart stopped. She recognised him instantly across the grand ballroom, from the way he stood tall with confidence, the way he held his head high. 

 Bede. He was breathtakingly beautiful- even from a distance, the sight of him whisked the air from her lungs in a silent gasp. He wore a tailcoat coloured a deep lavender, his usually unruly hair parted to the side and smoothed down as much as his curls would allow, his fringe kicking up in parts that sat beside his right ear. Gloria couldn't breathe for a moment. She forgot where she was, who she was, what she was doing. Her feet moved beneath her, drawing her a single step towards him. 

 She froze, heart lodged in her throat. There was an arm linked around his. Desperately, Gloria glanced at the woman on Bede's arm. She braced herself. Every fibre of her body tensed, instinctively wincing, waiting for the pain. 

 It never came. The woman on his arm balanced herself with a dark, ornately carved wooden cane. Her floor-length dress matched the dark lavender of Bede's tailcoat, Ms Opal's outfit topped with a gorgeous, lavender headpiece. 

 He'd come with Ms Opal. Gloria stared at them, her heart plopping into her stomach in shame. Bede always attended events with Ms Opal, she'd accompanied him the before, it made sense that this year would be the same. Gloria had gotten herself worked up over nothing. Over less than nothing, and she cursed herself for being so stupid. Her feelings towards him addled her mind. She saw things, worried about things, that weren't there. It turned her into a lovesick fool. An idiot. 

 Gloria huffed and forced down the feelings welling up in her chest. The yearning, the longing, that she felt towards Bede tugged on her heart despite the creeping fear that always remained one step behind. A lump settled in her throat again. Heat washed over her eyes. She blinked it away and quashed everything else. Her fear would protect her. She wore it as a shield, wrapped it around her heart like a cloak, and refused to budge. She wouldn't give in. The distance between them kept her safe- a wedge, a dark rift, she refused to cross. Gloria would stay here, on the other side of the ballroom, and let the night pass without incident. Without pain. This way, she didn't have to pretend. She didn't have to lie. To herself, to Bede, to her heart. 

 If that meant all she could do was watch him in silence, then she would. To keep herself safe, she would. 

 You'll be okay, Gloria told herself. Soothing the ache in her heart. If you stay away from him, you'll be okay. It's for the best. 

 She sighed, and let herself glance at Bede one final time. Their eyes met. Through the mingling guests filling the space between them, he looked straight at her. 

 And took a step forward. 

 Gloria grabbed Hop's arm and yanked him towards the dancefloor. "We're dancing," she said- ordered. No room for argument in her tone. 

 Hop stumbled, almost tripping on his feet as she pulled him away from Sonia and Leon. Away from Bede. "What? Now?" 

 "Now." Gloria slammed her glass down on a table as they passed it, not slowing her pace in the slightest. Her heart thumped rapidly in her ears, silencing Hop's grumbles of protest, and she forced herself onwards, fueled by panic, by her nerves, by the fear spreading through her lungs. 

 Bede had stepped towards her. 

 Gloria pulled Hop amidst the dancers, not waiting for the current song to end, and turned towards him. She grabbed his hand, his shoulder, and they fell into step with the music. At this distance, she couldn't hide from Hop the shadows, the fear, behind her eyes. 

 "What happened?" Hop asked quietly. 

 He instantly settled into their dance, realising this wasn't just one of Gloria's impulsive whims. Their week of practice paid off as they turned in sync. 

 "I saw him." It came out as a whisper, as quiet as a gasp. "And he-" 

 Gloria clamped her eyes shut for a second, for a step of their dance, and she sucked in a breath. Tears blinked away. 

 "He saw me," she said. Knowing that somewhere across the ballroom, Bede was behind her. 

 "Your eyes met?" Hop stepped right, and she followed. 

 Gloria nodded. She tightened her grip on Hop's shoulder as the world threatened to crumble beneath her feet. Unbalanced no longer described how she felt- she wasn't stumbling, she was falling. 

 "It was bound to happen, Glo," Hop said gently. He didn't patronise her, he understood the roots of her fear, the grip it had on her, and remained realistic. "He's your friend, it makes sense that he'd be looking for you. It's normal to want to hang with people you know at events like this." 

 Gloria let his words wash over her as they slowed to a stop when the song ended. Some of the couples around them departed, new ones taking their places, and the music began again. 

 "I don't want to talk to him," Gloria said. Her heart squeezed tight. "Not yet. Not tonight."

 Hop gave her a rueful smile. "You can't avoid him forever, you know." 

 "I can try." She looked away, keeping in step with him as they followed the music. 

 "Is that what you want?" 

 Hop's words echoed the pain in her heart. The longing. The desire to risk it all. 

 "It doesn't matter what I want," she said finally. "This is what I need." 

 "If you say so…" Hop sounded unsure, but Gloria remained resolute. 

 She needed to avoid Bede. They danced for a while, until Hop's steps became sloppy and out of time, and Gloria decided to let him rest. They stepped off the dancefloor, and she immediately stepped into her role as the Champion, seeking out sponsors, esteemed guests, and patrons. People she recognised and strangers alike, anyone she could waste away time with.  She danced with a few young men, most of whom were heirs to their parent's companies or estates, until her feet began to ache. When she parted from the last one, her throat was dry and hoarse from talking. Her head spun from dancing too long. The endless names she needed to remember blurred together in her mind, leaving her nauseous again. She gave the tables of slowly diminishing food a wide berth, seeking out a waiter she could commandeer for a drink. 

 Someone stepped in front of her. Gloria stopped herself from sagging in frustration, her gaze following the waiter she'd been a split second from reaching. 

 "Sorry, if you don't mind, I was-" 

 A glass full of sparkling liquid appeared before her eyes. 

 "After one of these?" Elliott asked, holding out a drink to her. He held a partially empty glass in his other hand. 

 She smiled in relief at him. "Yes, thank you." Gloria accepted the glass and sipped at it slowly, letting the bubbly liquid ease the ache in her throat. "How come you always seem to have just what I need?" she asked, breathing a laugh. 

 "I'll admit, the first time was a coincidence, but I was looking for an excuse to talk to you again," Elliott said. 

 Gloria tipped her glass to her lips, drinking as she thought. "You were?" 

 "It's not every day one gets a chance to talk with the Champion of Galar," he said, smiling softly. 

 His comment made her feel slightly giddy, as though the bubbles in her drink had filled her lungs. "It's not every day I get to speak with the son of the richest man in Galar," Gloria replied. "I feel like you one up me here."

 She found herself relaxing further as he laughed. There was something about him, something comforting, and she ignored her sore feet when he asked her to dance. She felt like she was floating. Walking on clouds. She danced with Elliott, a smile on her face the entire time, and came out of it giddy and breathless. 

 "Okay, I think that's enough dancing for one night," Gloria said as they stepped off the dancefloor, gently fanning her face with her hand. Her cheeks were flushed with warmth. "Who knew dancing could be such a workout?" 

 "I'm impressed," Elliott said, turning his back to her for a moment to grab a pair of drinks off the tray of a passing waiter. "You turned down all offers to dance last year, so I thought perhaps you didn't know how. It seems I was mistaken- you dance like an expert." 

 He turned back to her, handing her a glass that she eagerly accepted. 

 "Thank you," Gloria said, sipping her drink to keep herself from telling him she didn't know how to dance until a week ago. "Do those doors open?" She nodded towards the glass balcony doors. 

 "Why don't we find out?" Elliott smiled at her, and she followed him over to the doors. With a simple push, the towering glass door opened, and Gloria skipped out into the cool night air. 

 "That's so much better," she sighed happily. Her body buzzed and tingled with warmth, and she welcomed the embrace of the cold air around her. She stepped over to the edge of the balcony, staring out at the lights of Wyndon. The Ferris wheel turned as a dark form on the horizon. 

 "I'll join you in a moment," Elliott said, "I'm just going to grab one of those cakes before they all disappear." 

 Gloria hummed her response, closing her eyes as a gentle breeze swept over her. She felt so light. So free, so uncaring. Everything she'd worried about had fallen off her shoulders, drifting away into the night with the wind. Footsteps sounded behind her, and Gloria turned with a smile. 

 "Back so soon? I thought-" She stopped. It wasn't Elliott behind her. Her mouth dropped open with a wordless gasp, and she reached for him without thinking. Time slowed around her as her fingers touched the soft fabric of his tailcoat. 

 "Bede?" His name fell from her lips in awe. He stared down at her, violet eyes full of longing, and his expression was so soft, so tender, that she felt lightheaded beneath his gaze. The tips of her fingers remained against his chest.  

"Gloria…" the sound of her name sent a tingle down her spine. "You look so-" Bede's eyes shifted from hers. "Nice," he said, clearing his throat. "You look nice." 

 Floating. Gloria was floating. Why had she avoided him? She couldn't remember. Whatever the reason was, it no longer mattered. He was here. 

 "You look nicer," she said, pouting. "How is it that you're so much prettier than me? It's unfair!" 

 Bede blinked at her, and she snorted a laugh. 

 "Y'know what? It doesn't matter," Gloria said. 

 Bede's expression softened. He searched her eyes for a moment, once again captivating her with his gaze. 

 "I see you found time to continue practicing how to dance," he said. A hint of pride showed in his smile. "You had me worried- I wasn't sure that you'd be able to keep up your practice since you were so busy."

 Busy? Had she been busy? She couldn't remember. Gloria found herself leaning towards him. Drawn towards him. Her palm flattened against his chest as she stepped closer. Something bloomed in her chest. Something warm, something powerful, and her heart felt full. The words were on her tongue before she could think.  

"Bede, I think…" She felt fuzzy, giddy. And light. She felt so, so light. "I think I-" 

 "Where did you get that?" 

 "What?" Gloria stared at him for a second. He was frowning at the glass in her hand. Bede reached for it, and she tugged it away from him. "Hey, get your own!"  

"Gloria, that's alcohol," Bede said with a huff. He looked at her incredulously, and she snorted. 

 "No, it's not," she laughed. "It's non-alcoholic sparkling wine. Arceus, Bede. I'm not an idiot!" 

 "Where did you get it?" Bede asked again. His expression turned serious. 

 She waved his concerns off with her hand. "The waiters are carrying them around. Elliott grabbed one for me." 

 "Elliott." The look on his face, grim with alarm flashing behind his eyes, sent a rush of cold clarity through her when he asked, "and who was it that told you it was non-alcoholic?" 

 Gloria's heart thumped slowly in her chest. "Elliott did…" 

 No.

 She stared at the glass in her hand, a few centimetres of the bubbly liquid remaining. The third drink she'd accepted from Elliott. 

 This isn't… 

 "But I…" Gloria shook her head. She couldn't think straight. Her mind was a blur, her thoughts fuzzy and clouded. 

 Oh.

 Oh no.

 Her heart plummeted into her stomach as everything fell into place. The way she'd been feeling, how comfortable she left around Elliott when she'd never met him before, how easily she mingled with sponsors and patrons without a worry. The strange confidence, the peace, that had overcome her. And now, the thick fog that had overcome her mind, the weightlessness she felt, carried an new meaning. One that made her feel ill. 

 Bede gently took the glass from her and turfed the remaining wine into the planter beside them. 

 "How many have you had?" he asked.

 Gloria reached for the balcony's railing, her fingers trembling around it as she tried to steady herself. The drinks Elliott gave her, one by one, flashed in her mind. She tasted the wine on her tongue. She'd been so stupid, so naive, to trust him, to accept those drinks. Disquiet settled heavy on her shoulders.

 "That was my third…" Gloria answered. Her mind clouded with disbelief. 

 Was this really happening…?

 "Have you eaten anything?" 

 She squeezed her eyes shut. Clenched her jaw to stop her voice from trembling. "No," she replied in a whisper. In shame. 

 Bede's touch on her arm almost brought her to tears. 

 "I don't… I don't understand…" Her voice caught. Fear loomed over her heart, crushed her chest, her soul. It didn't make sense. Nothing made sense. "Why would he…?"  

Footsteps made Gloria glance towards the balcony doors, Bede turning to face Elliott as he paused in the wedge of light streaming from the ballroom. He held a glass of wine in either hand. 

 "You gave her alcohol," Bede said firmly. He straightened, standing tall between Gloria and Elliott, and yet she still felt small. Vulnerable.

 Afraid. 

 Elliott shrugged. "The jig is up, is it? Shame. We hadn't even gotten to the good part yet." 

 Gloria stared at the floor, eyes wide and unseeing. She felt sick.

 "And what were you hoping would happen?" Bede asked. 

 "Does it matter?" Elliott breathed a laugh, remaining unperturbed. "Someone has to try and liven up these dull events. I thought that perhaps a drunk, underage Champion would do the trick." 

 Again, he shrugged. Everything he said, his calm voice, his laughter, fell over Gloria in a daze. It didn't feel real. Like she was somewhere else, watching this unfold. Witnessing a dream- a nightmare. One she couldn't escape from. Fear crushed her heart, paralysed her breathing, turned her blood into ice. Cold. She felt cold. 

 "You-!" Bede's hands balled into fists. "How dare you-" 

 She reached for him the second he moved, gripping the tails of his coat before he'd taken a single step. 

 "Don't-" A tear slipped from her eyes. "Don't go…" 

 The fury on Bede's face shattered as she began to cry. The fear she'd been holding back engulfed her all at once, buckling her knees and tearing a sob from her throat. Bede whirled on his feet, holding her arms gently before she could collapse. Gloria fell against him. Into him. Breaking into pieces once again. 

 Elliott snorted. "I suppose this will do," he said, voice flat with boredom. "At least it'll be amusing to see how she gets out of this." He shrugged and stalked back inside. 

 Gloria squeezed her eyes shut tight. She grit her teeth, grinding out her pain, her fear, her indignation. Outrage burned up her throat. She wanted to scream, to cry and wail. She wanted to tear after Elliott and shove his pretty little face into the tiles, to send her Pokemon after him and make him regret the day he chose to mess with the Champion of Galar. 

 But she didn't. Gloria pulled her face off Bede's shoulder and took a shuddery breath. She wiped at her tears with the backs of her hands before Bede produced a white handkerchief, lined with intricate lace details, and held it out to her. She blinked at it, at him, and somehow, it made her laugh. 

 "What are you doing with this?" she asked, her voice strained, yet soft with amusement. She accepted the handkerchief and dabbed away her tears as delicately as she could. Her makeup smeared across it.

 "Ms Opal insisted I carry one with me 'just in case,'" Bede said. His mouth twitched with the faintest smile, though it faded all too quickly. 

 "I'm beginning to think that Ms Opal can see the future," she laughed quietly before her lips began to wobble again with the threat of tears, and she grimaced. "Arceus, my makeup is ruined. I spent so much money on it, too…" Gloria sighed, lowering her hands in frustration. "Look at me- some guy I met tonight got me drunk and I'm worrying about my makeup!" 

 "Here, let me help." Bede took the handkerchief off her and gently dabbed it across her cheeks. "I wouldn't say it's ruined…" 

 Gloria huffed. "I must look like a Pangoro by now." She sniffled and closed her eyes, turning her cheek towards Bede as he patted away at the remains of her makeup. 

 "You look beautiful." 

 Her eyes snapped open. Bede's hand stilled by her cheek, the tips of his fingers brushing her skin. He looked right into her eyes. There was something in his gaze that stirred the very depths of her heart, and her lips parted with a silent, broken gasp. His eyes flicked down to follow the movement. 

 Bede looked away, clearing his throat. "A-Anyway, I wouldn't worry about your makeup," he said quickly. His voice hitched and he stammered, the sound of which sent a spear of heat through Gloria's body. "We should be able to it clean up enough that-" 

 Bede jolted when her fingers cupped his cheek, eyes widening in shock, and the handkerchief fell from his hand. He was beautiful. Stunned into silence, Bede's violet eyes searched hers, and her heart stirred again. Her heart, her soul, reached for him. She swept her thumb across his cheek. Her mind was fuzzy. Clouded. She wondered what she was doing, leaning towards him like this. Drawn to him like never before. Nothing else in the world mattered- not her fear, not her pain, not the Gala taking place in the hotel just metres away. 

 Nothing else mattered to her than Bede. 

 His mouth opened with words he couldn't voice. Concern, then wonder, filled his eyes as he slowly rested a hand over hers on his cheek. 

 He's beautiful, she thought again.

 Bede stole his hand away, his eyes flicking from hers. "Gloria, what are you-?" He fumbled over his words, a blush blazing across his cheeks that made her heart swell. "You- you're drunk." 

 "Mm…" She didn't care. It was Bede. 

 This was what she wanted. Her hand trailed across his cheek and into his hair, her fingers weaving through those platinum blond strands. 

 Bede startled at her touch. "I think we should-" 

 Silence. And warmth. A soft warmth that spread from her lips, through her body, her chest, her heart. It felt right. 

 This was it. 

 This was what she'd wanted all along. 

 - 

Bede couldn't breathe. His mind screeched to a halt when Gloria pressed her lips against his. She stole the words from his mouth, silencing him mid-sentence, and kissed him.  

And he let her. The delightful sensation of her lips gliding across his addled his brain, his senses. Bede had wanted to kiss her for so long, he'd fought the desire within him to do so for months, that he couldn't stop himself from reciprocating instinctively. A gasp died in his throat. Without thinking, he followed the movement of her lips in a nervous dance that left him dizzy. It was slow and tender, and her lips were soft, so soft and warm, carrying the slightest hint of something sweet- 

 The wine. 

 "Holy shit biscuits!" 

 A gasp from the balcony doors jolted Bede back to reality, and he snapped away from Gloria, slamming the back of his hand against his mouth, and turned towards Hop.  

"This- This isn't what it looks like!" Bede protested, his voice cracking, body blazing with heat. He burned from head to toe, his cheeks searing hotly with a dark blush he knew was obvious for all to see. He jumped as Gloria's head dropped to his shoulder.  His lips still tingled from their kiss. 

 "Sure, mate." Hop held up his hands, taking a slow and stiff step backwards. "Whatever you say. I'll just… leave you two alone now…" 

 "Wait!" Bede glanced down at Gloria, realising how limp and boneless she felt against him. Her eyes were squeezed shut. "I need your help." 

 Hop frowned, then saw what Bede had- Gloria's pained expression, her grip tight on Bede's tailcoat. He rushed over, his eyes widening.

 "What happened? Did you kiss her so hard she fainted?" 

 "N-No!" Bede snapped, heat shooting down his spine at the memory of what had just happened.  

Gloria had kissed him. 

 "She's drunk," he explained to both Hop and himself. Reminding himself that Gloria hadn't been thinking clearly. 

 "What?! How?" Hop gaped.  

A low groan came from Gloria. "I don't… feel right…" 

 Bede's heart squeezed tight in his chest. He gently rubbed her back, wishing he could do more. Now wasn't the time to get caught up in the fact that she'd kissed him, not when she was suffering like this. Not when someone had done this to her.

 "Elliott Murdoch," he said through clenched teeth. "Know the name?" 

 Hop nodded. "That's the guy who gave Gloria a drink earlier-" he stopped and blanched. "No… Was that…?" 

 "It was." Bede nodded grimly. "Elliott has been giving her alcohol under the pretense that it was non-alcoholic sparkling wine." 

 "That douchebag!" Hop huffed, sending a searing glare towards the doors leading to the Gala. "What's his problem?!" 

 "A lack of entertainment, apparently." Bede swallowed the putrid taste of bile that crawled up his throat. 

 Gloria's grip on Bede tightened. She pulled off him enough so that she was no longer sinking into him, and groaned deep in her throat.

 "I feel sick…" 

 "I don't doubt that," Bede said softly. He let her stand on her own, but kept close enough to her that he could catch her if she fell. Her gaze was unfocused, brown eyes glassy and distant. "You've had three glasses of wine on an empty stomach."  

"Not to mention that you're not exactly the tallest person around," Hop pointed out.  

Gloria made a disgruntled sound in her throat, leveling a pained glare at him. "Fuck off, Hop," she huffed. 

 Bede blinked at her, and she frowned. 

 "What?" Gloria asked, before realising what she'd said. "Oh, shit. Wait- I mean- fuck." She closed her eyes and huffed as Hop stifled a laugh. "Shut up, Hop! You're not helping!" 

She grumbled, and held onto Bede's arm for a moment as her expression grew pained. 

 "Yeah, I… really don't feel well," Gloria said weakly. 

 "Shit, Glo. You don't look well," Hop said, gently rubbing her back in circles as her eyes squeezed shut. 

 Bede couldn't begin to imagine how she was feeling, from the effects of the alcohol and the knowledge that this had been done to her deliberately. Her small frame seemed even tinier than usual as she clung to him. He dropped his hand from her shoulder, trailing his fingers down her arm to take hers, and stopped as he brushed a familiar bracelet. The one he'd given her on White Day. A silver bracelet adjourned with diamond stars that glistened a soft pink in the light. She'd worn it. His gift. It made his heart ache for her, more determined than ever to do what he could to help her. He couldn't ease her suffering, he couldn't take that from her, but there was something else he could do. 

 He could get her to safety. 

 "We need to get her home," Bede said. His mind worked ahead of him, already churning through their options.  

"She's drunk, can barely stand on her own, and if you haven't noticed, the ballroom is full of people!" Hop raised an incredulous eyebrow at Bede. "How on earth do you expect us to get her home without anyone seeing her like this?"

 "That was part of Elliott's scheme," Bede sighed. "However, we're not completely out of options just yet. Marnie came with her brother, Piers, correct?" 

 Hop nodded. "Yeah, I spoke with them earlier." 

 "Good." That could work. "From what I've heard, Piers is an expert at drawing a crowd. Do you believe he'd be willing to cause a distraction for us? Marnie and I can alert the staff to our predicament, and you should be able to leave through the back of the hotel, out through the staff entrance. It wouldn't be the first time that incidents similar to this have occured, and staff at the Rose of the Rondelands are trained to be discreet. We shouldn't need to worry about one of them leaking this to the press." 

 "Piers will definitely be on board once he hears what happened to Glo," Hop agreed. "Although you might have to restrain Marnie from going after Elliott herself. Even I don't want to walk away knowing he's still in there, getting away with this scot-free." 

 "Oh, I have a thought for how to deal with him," Bede said. He looked towards the ballroom, spying Marnie in a crimson dress next to Piers in a matching suit. He eased Gloria off him gently so that she could lean on Hop instead. "Wait until everyone's attention is on Piers. The staff should prepare a way out for you- head for it as quick as you can." 

Bede gave Gloria's arm a final, gentle squeeze. Her eyes were shut, her head resting against Hop's shoulder, and she gave no indication that she'd felt his touch at all. Shallow breaths sounded between her parted lips. He turned towards the ballroom, steeling himself. 

 "Wait, before you go-" Hop began, looking sheepishly away. "You've, uh, got some lipstick on your mouth." 

 Bede stiffened with a shot of heat. He furiously wiped at his mouth, his hand coming away with a slash of pink that matched the colour of Gloria's lipstick. He cleared his throat roughly. The blush on his cheeks sizzled in the cold air, and his body filled with warmth. The memory of her kissing him returned with force. He felt a ghost of her touch, a whisper of her lips, against his. 

 "Thank you," Bede said awkwardly. He fixed gaze on the ballroom beyond the glass in front of him as his nerves crackled alight at the reminder that Gloria had kissed him. The smudge of lipstick on the back of his hand. 

 In that moment, he hadn't noticed the glaze over her eyes. Bede knew very well that she had to be drunk, he'd told her himself, but when she'd reached for him, he hadn't been able to react in time. He'd been too speechless, too shocked, to stop her. 

 And she'd kissed him. Gloria, the one who denied herself love, who feared and despised the very thought of it, who swore she'd only kiss someone she was in a relationship with, had kissed him. He looked back at her now, standing only with the support of Hop, and his heart clenched with regret.

 He should have stopped her. How could he be happy about this when she'd kissed him under the influence of alcohol? Bede sighed and forced those thoughts away. He'd apologize to her later. When they could sit down and talk about this, when she was home safe and recovered, he'd ask for her forgiveness in letting his feelings get the better of him. It wasn't just that Gloria had kissed him- he had let her. He swallowed his guilt and met Hop's eyes. Hop nodded. 

 "Alright. Let's hope this works," Bede said and made for the ballroom, leaving Hop and Gloria, his feelings of regret, behind. 

 -

 It was like Hop had said- the instant Bede told Piers what had happened, he'd agreed to his part in the plan without another word. Marnie had glared something fierce, her dark eyes growing cold and sharp, and it was only the gentle hand Piers placed on her shoulder, the infinitesimal shake of his head, that stopped her from tearing after Elliott. Begrudgingly, Marnie played her part, waving over a waiter as Piers made for the band. Whispers spread through the crowd, heads turning, guests shuffling closer to the dancefloor and the band to get a better look. Bede swept his gaze around the room, and soon enough, everyone's attention was on Piers and the band as he began an impromptu live performance. The staff Marnie had spoken to waited by the staff entrance, and once all backs were turned to the balcony, Hop came through with Gloria staggering on his arm. Her bare feet were silent on the floor, Hop carrying her heels in his right hand, his left arm around her back. Marnie rushed over to help them usher Gloria out, and Bede turned from them. With the band playing, he needn't worry about his conversion being overheard. 

 As Hop and Marnie disappeared with Gloria through the staff entrance, Bede stepped up to Ms Opal. He offered her his arm, and she took it, meeting the intention in his gaze with a smile. 

 "What is it, dear?" Ms Opal asked. "What has that rascal Elliott done to poor Gloria?" 

 Bede's eyebrows lifted. He recalled Gloria's comment that Ms Opal was psychic, and wondered if she knew how astute that observation was. 

 "I'll get to that in a moment," Bede said, and Ms Opal nodded in understanding. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe you're well acquainted with his father, Richard Murdoch? If so, then there's a favour I'd like to ask of you."

 Ms Opal smiled. Her eyes, keen as ever, sharpened with an intensity that made Bede stiffen slightly. "Ask away, my dear. I'll assist you in any way if it will help Gloria." 

 A weight eased off Bede's chest, and he nodded. Masked by the sound of the band, he told Ms Opal everything; from what Elliott did to Gloria, to his plan for retribution that would fall upon the scum who had dared harm the Champion. All the while, Ms Opal maintained her smile. 

 A smile that reminded Bede that she had once been the most powerful trainer in Galar. 

 "That can be done," Ms Opal said after Bede laid out his plan. "Since Elliott wished for entertainment so badly, I suppose we have no choice but to give it to him."  

The venom in her voice sent a cold shiver through Bede. 

 "Thank you," he said, grateful. 

 Ms Opal patted his arm. "No need to thank me. You've done your part in getting Gloria out of here safely. That's commendable in itself. Leave the rest to me." 

 Bede nodded to her, before sending a glance to the door Gloria had left through. The night wasn't over yet. Not for Gloria. He doubted she was experiencing the worst of it yet, and wished he could have left with her, wished he could be the one at her side. 

 He wished he could have done more. Perhaps, if he had gathered the courage to speak with her earlier, this wouldn't have happened in the first place, and Gloria needn't have suffered. Bede brushed that thought aside. There was no point in dwelling in the past. His regret and guilt had no place here, not anymore, not tonight. 

 Not when there was still hell to pay. 

#bederia week 2021 #bederia #bede #gloria #dressedinpinkshipping #btyu

[omniswords]

la vie en rose [félix graham de vanily/marinette dupain-cheng]

“What in the world are you doing?”

Her arm was still extended. “Giving you an out. Because it’s New Year’s Eve, and we’re lonely-together people, and you want a party, and I want to change my mind.” She looked at him meaningfully, then nodded toward her hand. “So are you going to take it or not?”

Two years pass, and Félix finds himself stuck and bored out of his mind at a New Year's party. Fortunately, he finds someone who can get him out. And give him more than he bargained for.

Félix wasn’t exactly a man of science beyond school necessities, but he was pretty sure—he could hypothesize, even—that mankind was capable of dying of boredom, and he’d be the first to go.

It wasn’t as though he found it difficult to interact with people at gatherings like these. He’d been to enough of these stuffy parties and black-tie galas that he could at least pretend at being a socialite. He knew how to manipulate words and punch up cheap party tricks enough for that special class of adults who looked down their noses at everyone to laugh behind their hands and call him a master magician. And he knew how to feign laughter at comments like those, because he wasn’t a magician, really. He was an illusionist. He just didn’t have the time to play at semantics with these people when the only point was to get on their good sides.

(Even if he wasn’t entirely sure that any of those Rossis had a good side.)

The problem was that events like these were so monotonously dull, whether they were here in France or back in London. He didn’t know how much longer he could deal with the Paris elite telling him how much he’d grown. How talented he was and how excited he must be to inherit his family’s line of work. How he must love the city his aunt once came to call home, and how very tragic it still was to think of her sudden disappearance. Worst of all, how interested he must be in the Agreste’s fashion lines, and—to his chagrin and disdain—how very much he resembled his cousin.

The only relief he got from the last was how, whenever she overheard it, Chloé Bourgeois would fix him with a brief disgusted expression. No matter to him; the feeling was mutual, always had been. And she was the fool besides, for trying so maddeningly hard to possess Adrien in the first place, even after all these years. Even after he tied himself down to that fencing girl. Tsurugi, he thought her name was?

Well. He did it for his mother, after all. She was, and perhaps would always be, the only the reason he managed to endure these things.

But no matter how much he thought of her, no matter how many hugs she gave him, or how much of the car ride back to the hotel she spent thanking him and stroking his hair, he still needed a moment to breathe. That moment found him on one of the balconies of the Grand Paris, the double doors behind him closing off the music and the gossip and leaving him only with the night lights and the strangely temperate winter weather. The city was just as he remembered it, or wanted to: buzzing with life where he couldn’t quite see it, baring its teeth in a smile or bitten-out words. Inviting him to play, or scolding him for all the stiffness in his clothes and his bones and his attitude. But what did Paris know about him? And what did he care to know about it?

And, most baffling of all—why did he want to disappear into it so badly?

Before Félix could humor himself with any more questions or sink his teeth into the night air any further, a figure caught his sight of the corner of his eye. A person, strolling down the street with an irritating bounce in her step. It wasn’t until she came into the streetlight that he recognized her—the dark hair, those curious eyes.

That… that girl from Adrien’s video message. I-Love-You Girl. What was her name again? Marie? Madeleine? How easy it was to forget… He only hoped she’d developed some taste since he’d seen her last.

But what if he…?

Once she was close enough to the balcony, just under the streetlight, he cleared his throat to get her attention. When that didn’t work, he called out, “Hey.” Loud enough that she’d hear him, but not so loud that anyone else would think he was crazy.

I-Love-You Girl stopped, startled, looked around. Was she always so scatterbrained?

“Up here,” he said with an exasperated sigh, leaning over the balcony and digging his chin in his hand so she could get a better look at him. When she had the sense to look, of course.

Finally she did—and as soon as they met eyes, she stared at him sideways. Which… he supposed he deserved, all things considered. At least it was refreshing not to be mistaken for Adrien at first glance. Even though she was, or hopefully had been, so sickeningly invested in him that it was more a dichotomy of Adrien and Not Adrien. “Félix,” she said, by way of greeting, colder than the evening. He didn’t even know she was capable of a tone like that. He didn’t even know she remembered his name. “What do you want?”

“Get me out of here,” Félix said with no hesitation and a backwards glimpse at the gala going on behind him. He could make out a muffled piano rendition of O Holy Night or Auld Lang Syne, one of those two—probably Adrien’s doing—and a chorus of voices at various levels of inebriation. So much for distinction. “You’re my out.”

The girl narrowed her eyes, and she jammed her hands in the pockets of her jacket. “Why should I?”

“Because it’s New Year’s Eve,” he pointed out airily, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “And aren’t you supposed to be nice to people on New Year’s Eve? Good will toward men? Any of it ring a bell?”

She was unmoved. “You’re supposed to be nice to people year-round. And Christmas,” she added pointedly, “was six days ago.”

He sighed again. “Then at least do it for Adrien, would you? Aren’t you friends?”

“Right.” She laughed, but not because she was amused; still, he didn’t miss the split second that her face fell and her body tensed. “Adrien, whose phone you hijacked to try and make me think he hated me. I’m so irrevocably convinced.” She took a step forward, as if to leave. “Besides. You aren’t Adrien.”

Not that that seemed to matter anyway, apparently.

And yet he’d never heard such beautiful words. You aren’t Adrien. Damn right he wasn’t. He’d play them over and over if he could.

“Look, I understand,” he blurted out, hoping at least that would stop her. “I shouldn’t have said that. And I hurt your feelings before and never apologized to you for it. I should have. We were just in such a hurry to catch our train back and I never got the chance to meet you in person. Let me… make it up to you now. You know. While fate’s brought us together.” The words tasted tight and bitter in his mouth, like black licorice, but maybe she would believe them. “Tis the season, no?”

She hesitated.

He cocked an eyebrow, inclined his head. He was getting to her. “Besides,” he added. “That Lila girl won’t get off my back about some film deal or other. You must know how annoyingly persistent she can be sometimes. She even puts Bourgeois to shame.”

Félix knew more than his fair share about risk assessment in situations like these, and it seemed as though keeping in touch with Adrien through text, even minimally, paid off. I-Love-You Girl’s expression softened in sympathy—no, empathy—but then she went stiff again, put up the very walls he thought he’d opened up. Oh, he liked this. Finally, someone with a little give.

“Be down in five minutes,” she said, “or you’ll have to find your own way out.”

He grinned, and pushed off the balcony, and slipped back inside.

It wasn’t hard to navigate the hordes of guests, some still singing, some still taking yet another champagne flute from a server with a tray. All he had to do was wait for that Rossi girl to be properly occupied with his mother—which he silently apologized for, and swore to make up to her with a proper Christmas gift—to grab his coat and head downstairs. Even he needed a little air, he said; he wouldn’t be gone long. The only thing that paused him, even briefly, was a conversation he overheard between Adrien and his fencing girl.

“You know, I thought Marinette might show up and help her parents,” he said.

To which the fencing girl replied, “They must have relieved her for the night. Wherever she is, I hope she’s enjoying herself.”

“You mean like we are?” Adrien mumbled, and the two of them laughed, and he took her off to some other corner to chat.

Perfect.

When Félix made it down to the lobby, I-Love-You Girl was still waiting for him, still with her hands in her pockets. Now that he was closer, he could make out the dark pink of her peacoat, the pattern of her sweater dress that peeked out underneath, the wool tights and lace-up boots. At least she had more fashion sense than anyone upstairs, with their sequined gowns and straitlaced satin lapels.

She looked up, and he took a step forward, smiling cordially. “Marinette. So good to see you.”

———

For someone as sweet and mild-mannered as Marinette Dupain-Cheng, she certainly knew her way around Paris’s narrow streets and alleys, all the perfect ways of never getting caught. It almost bordered on suspicion, but Félix was already on thin ice as it was. He resigned himself to the universal truth that it was always the quiet ones who got caught up in affairs like these.

“You know,” he said all the same, “it would be nice to know where you’re taking me.”

“Away from that party,” she said, keeping up a pace so oddly brisk that he might have found it hard to keep up if he weren’t so much taller than she was. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

He laughed, a bit in disbelief. He really was going to enjoy this, wasn’t he? “What were you doing out, anyway? Almost everything is closed this time of night.”

Marinette only gave him another sideways glance—more of a glare—and seemed somehow to walk even faster, taking sharp turns every so often. She must have practice with this.

“Must you move so quickly?” he said. “Any faster and we’ll be running.”

“Do you always talk like this?” she shot back.

“I’d rather it didn’t look like I’m trying to pursue you. Or, you know, like you’re trying to get away from me.” He paused. “Are you trying to get away from me?”

Marinette stopped just at the end of one of these alleyways, so suddenly that he stumbled and almost bumped into her. She didn’t turn around to face him, but she spoke anyway. “Did you mean what you said up there?” she asked.

Félix paused. “I don’t follow.”

She scoffed through her nose, as if to say, that’s a first. “Because if you didn’t mean what you said, and you were just trying to get me to get you out of there, then yes, I am trying to get away from you, and you can handle with getting exactly what you wanted—and finding your way back—all by yourself.” Whatever stiffness still lingered in her body started to fade, just a bit. “But if you meant it… if you really do want to make it up to me, if you really have changed for the better, then…”

Marinette trailed off, and turned her head just so, and the rest of her words hung in the balance. I’ll stay with you.

He wasn’t used to this. People like this. Girls like this. They either avoided him like the plague under the impression that his money made him consider them beneath him, or they fell all over him because they wanted something out of him. But Marinette wasn’t quite either one. She was hesitant, sure. Resistant, even. But there, in the hairline cracks of her resolve, were the pieces of her personality poking out. The vulnerability. The want, the need to be known, really known. All the little things that Adrien might have loved about her, if he had been smart enough to look.

It fascinated him.

“Do you really think I haven’t changed?” he asked. “It’s been two years. A lot can happen in two years.”

Marinette folded her arms tight. “So can nothing at all.”

Félix sighed. “Fine, I’ll concede it. I made a… less-than-stellar first impression. We were fourteen. And I was foolish.”

“You also understand,” she quipped, “that being fourteen isn’t an excuse for anything. And that I have this thing called a gut feeling. And that I almost always trust it.”

“And did your gut feeling tell you to leave me on that balcony?” He stepped back. “Did you, perhaps for the first time in your life, decide to go against it?”

Marinette didn’t say anything.

“If you really want me to leave,” he said after a while, once it was clear that she wasn’t going to say anything, “I’ll leave, and you can be on your merry way to celebrate… however it is someone like you celebrates.” His eyes traced the outline of her, head to foot, and he flexed his hands in his pockets, thumb rubbing against the silver band on his finger. “You seem to have been hurt by many people, many times. Let one of them actually do something about it.”

The tension in the moment that followed was near-tangible, and when Marinette stepped onto the street, into the glow of the next streetlight, Félix was half-convinced she really was going to leave. But then she turned on her heel, the slowest she’d been all evening, and looked him up and down, and she was more than that too-soft, simpering I-Love-You Girl he’d first seen. Her cheeks were rosy, likely from the night wind but perhaps from his own words, and she’d pulled her hair back in a ponytail that actually suited her age, and the swimming glint in her eyes and the way she carried herself told him that he was right. That she had been hurt and that, quite frankly, she didn’t need anyone to do anything about it.

And yet she pulled her hand out, extended it to him. “You have tonight,” she finally said. “Let’s hope your second impression is better than your first.”

Félix raised an eyebrow, and took that next step forward. “I think you’ll find,” he said, grasping her hand, “that I’m very good at meeting others’ expectations.”

He bent to kiss the back of it out of polite habit, and it tensed and slipped out of his grip almost instantly. When he looked up, she was staring at him in shock and… shame? Embarrassment? It was hard to read between her lines.

“Sorry,” she stammered, and looked away. “For a moment you reminded me of… someone else.”

“Well, I suppose we can’t have that.” He managed to save himself with a gallant bow—both hands showing, none of his fingers crossed, nothing in his palms. “Miss Dupain-Cheng, I’m in your charge.”

———

Perhaps he shouldn’t have been so surprised that there was very little still open on New Year’s Eve in Paris. Back home, as he was sure was the case literally everyone where, most festivities and fireworks went on well into the night; in fact, it had sort of been an unofficial family tradition to visit the Natural History Museum, go skating at the ice rink just in front, turn in for some time, return to the streets late at night for some fireworks. He had plenty of pictures from all the years they’d gone before. But that was before his father had passed away, and they hadn’t been back since. Something in his mother’s eyes had changed the first time he asked about the museum, and the sight made his gut twist so unpleasantly that he retracted the question and didn’t dream of ever asking again.

Paris, it seemed, was no different. Sure all the shops and cafés and bakeries were closed for the night and the next day, but there was no shortage of people in the streets and bars and restaurants that were still open. In every building they passed that dared to have its lights on, there were food and drink and excited, almost deafening and certainly drunken chatter.

He swore he’d seen a movie like this, once.

But the whole walk—which was, thank God, actually a walk and no longer practically a run—Marinette was quiet. Occasionally, she checked for phone, sometimes looked it for a couple of minutes at a time. It wasn’t until he pointed out that she still hadn’t told him just where they were going that she shot him a look, phone in hand, and said, “That’s what I’m trying to decide.”

Whatever she could dish out, Félix could give right back. “Have you considered the very novel concept of asking me?”

“Of course. Why hadn’t I thought of that?” Marinette made a show of rolling her eyes as they cut through a nearby park, but at least it seemed playful. “Let me ask the London native what to do on New Year’s Eve in Paris.”

“You know well and good what I meant by that,” he began to say, but stopped short as soon as Marinette did. He squinted at the building in front of him, the dim display cases just inside, the black and gold embellishments, the writing on the windows and front door. Tom and Sabine’s Boulangerie Patisserie, the signs read. Open every day.

Félix looked at her blankly, putting two and two together. “Is this your house?”

“Very perceptive of you,” Marinette said, taking out her keys and fumbling with the lock. And then, as she opened the door and turned on the lights for both of them, “Wait here. No, not outside, it’s cold.”

“You know,” he tried to joke as he stepped in, “I don’t usually go home with a girl on the first date.”

“Have you even been on a first date?”

Félix paused, and for a brilliant moment Marinette glanced back at him, apologetic, as though afraid that she’d actually hurt his feelings. “That is,” he said as he gathered his words, “far beyond the point.”

She gave him one of those up-and-down looks again. “Then should I be honored to be the first?” she asked dryly, slipping behind the counters toward a room in the back.

“That depends.” He leaned forward on the counter, took in the brick backsplash and the empty shelves and cases. “Do you consider this one?”

Marinette’s answer was little more than a scoff as she disappeared behind the door, and within a few minutes returned with two small white paper bags and two paper cups in a tray. If he looked close enough, he could see steam rising through the holes in each of the lids.

“Let’s go,” she said, thrusting the bags into his hands before he—or either of them, really—could do or say anything else. And if he looked close enough again, in the time that she allowed him to add a splash of milk, he could have sworn there was a dusting of light pink on the tops of her cheeks.

In spite of that earlier quip, Marinette was probably right about not entrusting an itinerary to him. He barely knew the first thing about these arrondissements, or why anyone would ever refer to them by only their numbers, and he certainly didn’t know what the bus system was like. But then, he barely knew what any bus system was like. He’d even only been on the tube a couple of times, and he’d been so young then, and his father had been the one to take him…

His father…

His expression must have gone sour as they waited at the bus station, because Marinette sighed and sipped her coffee and said, “I get it. It’s not exactly glamorous. But it’s running, so that’s what we’re going to use.”

“I don’t have a problem with it,” he replied simply, and when the bus pulled in she did him the courtesy of giving him a window seat in the back. Sure, the fact that they were seated backwards made him a bit nauseous at first, and sure, the cushion design was absolutely hideous, but seeing the city like this… all this electric contrasted against the dark, the brightly colored signs… well. It did beat staying at that stuffy hotel and that stuffy party. At least, for a blessed half-hour or so, it was quiet here.

“Still haven’t told me where we’re going,” he said out of the corner of his mouth.

“I’m aware.” There was a pause, and under the roar of the bus, Marinette let out a breathless laugh. “You’re just going to have to trust me, huh?”

Félix rested his chin in his hand, smiled grimly into his palm. “How tragic.”

———

“Well, what do you think?”

“It’s…” Félix began, except the only way he knew how to end his sentence was, “empty.”

Well, it wasn’t terribly empty. There were a few people scattered here and there across what Marinette had called the Trocadéro, but not nearly enough to warrant a celebration. Most of them were talking in small clusters or taking pictures together over some festive music booming in the distance, and still more of them were, more frequently, walking away from the plaza and trying to get somewhere else. At least the place was well-lit for a nighttime spot, and the black-and-white pattern on the ground was pleasantly geometric. But Marinette seemed to be getting comfortable here, on a set of nearby steps, and Félix, having nowhere else to go, could do nothing but follow her.

“You know,” he said, “this wasn’t exactly how I expected my year to end. If you understand what I’m getting at.”

“Do I understand?” she replied. Her words were surprisingly soft, and she hugged her knees to her chest, cradling her cup in both hands and staring out at the park below, and the Eiffel Tower just beyond.

Félix took a seat beside her. In spite of how cold and rigid the steps were, he had to admit, the view from where they were sitting was stunning; it gave them an almost-perfect display of whatever light-show the tower had on, and he was sure that if it were daytime, he might spend more than his fair share walking about the park and the fountains in sight. “When you agreed to get me out of the hotel,” he said, “I assumed you were going to take me to some… some… uncouth party, with flashing lights and earsplitting music.” He set aside his own coffee, thankfully still warm, and the paper bags she’d left in his charge. “Isn’t that how people like you end the year?”

Marinette turned to him; if she was offended, it was difficult to tell. “You don’t know very much about people like me, do you? You don’t know me at all.”

“Then why get me out of there in the first place? Was it really because you hold so much disdain for that Rossi girl? Or because you thought I owed you something?”

“Because you needed kindness,” she said sharply, as if she’d be better off never hearing that name again, and as if that should have been just as obvious. “And because it seemed like you thought I did, too. And, if you weren’t aware, people like me think almost everyone deserves kindness. And everyone deserves to have their mind changed.”

Félix stopped, held his breath, took a moment to realize he was even doing it. Almost everyone deserved kindness. Of course he’d heard that before, countless times. From his mother, who took him in her arms and set him on her lap after he’d been teased and rejected one too many times on the playground. From his father, who always made it a point to dig around in his pocket for spare change for any homeless person they might see. Everyone deserved kindness, his father said, because everyone was fighting some kind of battle. Everyone deserved kindness, his mother said, because eventually kindness came around to give you the things you deserve, and—best of all—it came at no cost.

“Well?” Marinette said, resting her chin on her knees. “Was I wrong?”

“No.” He shook his head. It was easier to say when he wasn’t looking at her. When he was looking at the lights instead. “No, you weren’t wrong.”

Out of the corner of his eye, she shrugged, but something in the air about her told him she might be smiling, even if to herself. “I just figured you’d spent so much time around people that you might want to get away from them without getting caught. And I figured you wouldn’t want to do dumb tourist-y stuff like go on the Seine or ride one of those nighttime tour buses.” She nodded toward the tower, then pointed in another direction. “But if a party’s what you want, then there’s one over on the Champ de Mars, and there’s one by the Arc de Triomphe. Just say the word and we’ll get walking.”

Félix chewed his lip, basked in the temperate silence between them, and finally decided to busy himself with poking through the paper bags. Inside were them two croissants—one almond, one chocolate. He looked up from the back, and found Marinette hugging herself even tighter, as though she were trying to make herself even smaller than she already was. “I suppose,” he said, getting comfortable and offering her the bag with the chocolate croissant, “that I could do with knowing you.”

Marinette sighed and scooted a little closer to take it, and Félix counted that as a win. “For what it’s worth,” she added, “You do still owe me, and I wouldn’t wish Lila on anyone. So I guess i’m not totally opposed to you using her as a bargaining chip.”

“She wouldn’t be the first.”

She rolled her eyes. “I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“So.” Delicately, he tore open his own bag at the crease, making a temporary placemat as he unwrapped the almond croissant. “What was a girl like you doing strolling the streets of Paris so late at night?”

“I’m electing not to take a girl like me as an insult.” Marinette was bouncing one knee far too fast for her own good, and only stopped to tear her pastry into smaller pieces, to lick the chocolate from her thumb. “I was with some friends. A couple of them were holding a party on their houseboat.”

“Hm.” Félix paused to sip his coffee. “Now who’s fancy?”

Marinette snorted. “More like chaotic. Their mom partied harder than any of us. Said you have to end the year with a proper bang.” She paused, smiled faintly as if remembering the scene. “She’s fun. They’re fun.”

“Then… why did you leave?”

As soon as he asked, the air around her seemed to depress itself. Her lashes lowered, and she focused entirely too much on eating, and she went pigeon-toed, sitting there. Eventually, she said, “Low social battery, I guess you could say. And…”

Félix tilted his head, and when he spoke, he didn’t think his voice could ever go so… soft. “And?”

Marinette sighed deeply, finally turned to look at him. “I know I’m risking something by asking you about, you know, human emotion,” she said, just barely joking before she sobered up again. “But do you ever feel like… like you’re in a room full of everyone you know, and you’re still lonely? And suffocating? And you need to get out just to be you, for a little bit?”

By now, he’d finished his food, and he gestured for her to give him her empty bag and cup. “And just why do you think I asked you to get me out of that party?”

She looked taken aback for a moment, scanning him up and down with her eyes, and she was staring at him even as he came back to sit with her again. “So I guess we’re just… lonely together. On New Year’s Eve.”

“I suppose we are.” Félix stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I suppose I can’t say I mind.”

Under the light of the Trocadéro plaza, it looked like, perhaps, Marinette didn’t mind, either. And under that same light, if only for a moment or two, Félix suspended his belief in shallow niceties.

———

“This is the way the year ends,” Félix said, more to the gardens and the tower and the festivities than to Marinette. “Not with a bang, but a whimper.”

“Who said that?” Marinette asked, smiled faintly. “Those words are too pretty to be yours.”

So she could warm up even to someone like him after all. “T.S. Eliot,” he said. “I just changed the words a bit. You should read him sometime.”

He didn’t know how long they’d been sitting out here. Long enough for his hands and the tip of his nose to catch a chill, but not so long that he’d be any kind of missed. Briefly, he wondered how long that would take—if anyone would miss him at all.

He checked his phone. 11:00, and the plaza was entirely empty.

So this really was the way the year ended. Not with choruses and flashing lights and a single glass of champagne form a popped bottle, but with the quiet and the cold and, surprisingly even to himself, a girl to keep him company.

“Can I ask you something strange?” he asked to break the silence.

Marinette looked at him sideways. She was incredibly good at that, it appeared. “You’re on thin ice,” she murmured over the distant music. “But go on.”

He couldn’t believe he was even asking this. “You’re not so—” No, he wouldn’t say it that way. She wasn’t foolish. She’d proved that enough times tonight. Perhaps a bit naïve, and golden-hearted enough to confuse him still, but not foolish. He cleared his throat, tried again. “You don’t still carry those feelings for my cousin, do you? After all this time?”

She raised an eyebrow at him, but not without stiffening just a touch. She was probably hoping it wasn’t noticeable, but she couldn’t have known he had the eyes of an illusionist. The kind that saw everything and unraveled everyone else’s tricks on sight while still hiding his own. “Félix,” she cooed, and this time she really was joking, but the pit of his stomach warmed anyway, and he wished, for just a few seconds, that she might say his name like that again. “I’m flattered, but not interested.”

“Oh, come off it,” he shot back. “That’s hardly why I’m asking.”

“Well,” she said, “To answer your question, that depends. You’re not still a jackass, are you? After all this time?”

He folded his arms. “I’d like to think that sort of characteristic is subjective and employable only when necessary. And I wouldn’t consider this to be one of the times it is.”

Marinette was quiet for a moment, tapping her fingers against her knees in a rhythm he couldn’t quite place. “Not that it’s any of your business,” she said, “but no. Not anymore.”

“I see.” He gave her a faint nod. “Good for you. No point in wasting your time on endeavors bound to go nowhere, is there?”

She didn’t answer, and for a moment he was, to his own surprise, afraid that he’d been the one to hurt her feelings this time. But it seemed that Miss Marinette Dupain-Cheng was nothing if not resilient, and she got to her feet, pacing the plaza just behind him. “Well,” she said, “now it’s my turn to ask you something strange.”

Félix flinched and braced himself, tuned into her every step. “Go on.”

“Why…” Her steps paused, and she brushed back some hair that the wind blew across her face when she turned on her heel. “Why did you do that thing? With Adrien’s phone, I mean. I know it was two years ago, but…”

“That depends.” His legs were starting to get sore, and he stretched them out over the stairs. Had she really been thinking about that all this time? “Which answer would you like to hear?”

Marinette scoffed again, though it was barely audible, and began to pace again. “You got an honest one in there?”

He hummed, the businessman in his blood running warm. “Intending to use it against me somehow?”

“No,” she said simply, another smile lingering somewhere in her voice. “That’s reserved for people like you.”

She wasn’t wrong; in fact, he was sure his mother secretly prided herself on raising him that way. He just had no reason to admit to it. He followed suit, stood and nodded his head, and they began to walk the perimeter of the plaza together. “I suppose you could say I was… jealous. That we had come from such similar circumstances, and yet he was happier for it. That he had friends at all. That in spite of my uncle he opened up and went out into the world, and in spite of my mother I receded and stayed shut in.” Marinette looked at him in a manner he could only describe as incredulous, but he wasn’t fazed. “I didn’t say it was a very good reason. Only that it was one.”

She scuffed her heel against the ground, refused to look at him, and her voice went soft and small. “I didn’t know you lost your mother.”

“My father,” he corrected her. The thought of him ever losing his mother put a twinge in his heart, but he didn’t dare let his expression betray it. “He married into our family, you know. Took my mother’s last name. You could say he was the first to teach me about common folk so I wouldn’t be so out of touch, locked away all the time. Once he passed, I… started failing him.” And then, when Marinette didn’t say anything else, “What? Did you expect something more?”

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, paused at the set of stairs once they reached it. “Did you expect that to excuse you?”

“No,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Forgive me for trying to do that human thing they call forging a connection.”

Whatever festivities going on in the park nearby seemed to double, and some admittedly catchy American jazz song began to play, so loud that he could actually make out some of the lyrics. Marinette seemed to perk up at the sound, and she shot him a glance. “You want to forge a connection?” she asked. “You want your chance to prove you’ve changed?”

“That is why I’m here, isn’t it?”

When he looked to Marinette, she was smiling, walking backward toward the center of the plaza, and she held her hand out to him. “Dance with me.”

His brow furrowed. Had she lost her mind? “I beg your pardon?”

“Dance with me,” she said again, more emphatically this time. She was rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet now. “You wouldn’t leave a lady alone on the floor, would you? You still owe me, don’t you?”

Perhaps they weren’t cut from such distant cloths after all. “I thought you said tactics like these were only reserved for people like me.”

“Well,” she said, “maybe I think something like this is employable only when necessary.”

“I don’t dance, you know.”

“Great.” Her smile shifted into a grin worthy even of the Cheshire Cat himself. “Neither do I.”

“Marinette,” he said, shaking his head. She’d definitely lost her mind. “What in the world are you doing?”

Her arm was still extended. “Giving you an out. Because it’s New Year’s Eve, and we’re lonely-together people, and you want a party, and I want to change my mind.” She looked at him meaningfully, then nodded toward her hand. “So are you going to take it or not?”

Félix didn’t exactly consider himself one to hesitate—it was quite possibly the only other thing he and Adrien’s fencing girl had in common. And he’d never really considered Marinette to be the business type. Tonight, for these few long-lasting seconds, he did. He took her hand before he could double back or regret it, and he tugged her all the way to the center of the Trocadéro. It wasn’t until he had both of her hands in his that he really felt how cold they were, and how soft, and how he wouldn’t be opposed to holding them a while longer. “Seems we both could do with some warming up,” he said.

Marinette’s eyes softened in the light, sparkled bright blue. Strange, how it made his stomach turn so. “Lead the way.”

He’d admit the dancing was clumsy at first; nothing like the ballroom lessons he’d been put up to so many times before. At best, they were two fools doing some simple two-step, back and forth, side to side, and she was leading far more where he should have been. But there were no rules here, no witnesses to look like a fool for, nothing to manipulate and no one to trick. And when he held Marinette at arm’s length and twirled her over and over, she wasn’t just tolerating him. She was enjoying him. She was smiling, glowing, and her cheeks were as pink as her peacoat, and whatever dark cloud had imposed itself on her presence was starting to disappear, little by little. And he was doing this human, infinite thing. And he was human, infinite, too.

He saw her as the music was dying, as she stumbled and he caught her. Not Marinette. I-Love-You Girl. Wherever she had gone before, she was back now, and that breathless smile was his to remember. And he’d never delete it.

“Looks like two years did you some good after all.” she said, letting go of his hands. And then, “What? What are you looking at me like that for?”

Félix shook his head. “Nobody misses me,” he said, entirely unshaken, “and my cousin is a complete idiot, and I couldn’t care less.”

———

He did her the courtesy of dancing to two more songs after that, until she was flushed in the face and out of breath, and at ten minutes to the New Year, they took the steps down from the plaza and cut through the gardens. They’d probably be stranded here until well after midnight, with every bar and street party starting to clear out. But Marinette had said the buses would be running until 2:00, and from the way she kept bumping into him even with intermittent apologies, he came to mind the prospect of taking one less and less.

“I have one more thing I wanna ask you,” she said. The further they got into the gardens, the louder the music became, and she tugged him away by the sleeve of his coat, where they could walk and talk more quietly. Where he could measure words and ineffable feeling by the slow click of her boots.

He spared her a look, and only that, despite the twitch in his fingers that told him to brush her hair out of her eyes, despite the tension in his arm that told him to pull her out of the way, just in case. He did neither, and said, “I’m listening.”

“Why did you ask me about Adrien?” For some reason, the question rang out louder than anything else he’d heard that night, but Marinette didn’t stop. He had to wonder if she was even capable of it; she only paused when he did, and even then she was a few paces ahead. “I mean, you probably know about Kagami, so. I’m not so sure why whatever I feel—”

“Forgive me,” he said, unmoving, watching her from a distance. “I merely thought that someone who thinks everyone deserves kindness should deserve some of it returned.”

Marinette opened her mouth. Closed it. Open and closed, again. She tucked back those flyaway hairs he’d been tempted to touch. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Only…” She looked softer in the streetlight, more than she had in the alleyway, more than she had on the bus, even more than she had under the light of the Trocadéro plaza. A part of him wanted to savor it, carry it into the new year; another part of him was mortified to have felt so, and determined to cover it up. He found the middle ground and steeled himself, his hands in his pockets, clenching out the softness of her fingers that still lingered there. “Only that it would be foolish to let that kindness go to waste. Those feelings.” He pressed his lips together, caution bleeding into his stare. “You’ve proven that you’re far too smart for that.”

Perhaps this was, aside from the dancing, aside from that video, the most vulnerable he had ever seen her: standing on the sides of her feet, looking away with a blush that was as demure as it was flattered. Something about her, so still and listening for the countdown, told him that she must have been telling herself this for ages. “That’s how I know you never really knew me,” she joked hollowly. “Just saying things to butter people up, huh.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Félix took one step forward, and then another. “Well,” he said, “if that’s really how you feel, then… I did say I could do with knowing you. I don’t intend to take that back now.” He flicked his gaze up toward her as they stood toe-to-toe, close enough for them to hold each other’s breaths, far enough for him to back off. “What do you say?”

Marinette looked at him like she was expecting him to hold out his hand again. Skeptical. She folded her arms. “Is this some kind of deal?”

“I’d like to think,” he said, “that by now we’ve moved past transactions.”

Before she could respond, a resounding cheer from down the way caught their attention, a chorus of people beginning to count down from sixty. Félix wondered if it must have sounded the same back at the Grand Paris, or if they were simply waiting for the clock to turn over, waiting to applaud the new year by way of greeting.

She turned back to him. “One minute left,” she said, and if he strained his ear it might sound like she was… regretting it. “Well? Did I waste my kindness on you, too?”

“You’re the one with the ‘gut feeling,’” he replied with a shrug and a set of air quotes. “Did you waste the honor of a first date on me, too?”

“This wasn’t a date.” Thirty seconds. She rolled her eyes. “This was a second impression.”

“Not a bad second impression.”

“How would you know?”

“You’re smiling,” he said. “Your eyes are smiling.”

Marinette held her breath, watched him cautiously. She wasn’t quite the girl from the alleyway, wasn’t quite I-Love-You Girl. She hung somewhere in the balance, eyes soft, stance open, even as the hint of an actual smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

He took his hand out of his pocket, let it hover at the small of her back without actually touching her. “Would it be a date if I kissed you?” he asked. He didn’t know why he was breathing the words. He only knew why he was asking. “Or would it just be tradition?”

She snorted. “And waste a New Year’s kiss on you?”

He raised an eyebrow and both hands, took a couple of steps back. “You thought you wasted a lot of things on me. Why would I stop you now?”

Marinette moved forward, reached for him by the front of his coat and tugged him in with a force that made him stumble. “Oh, get over here,” she murmured over the roar of the street party, standing up on her toes and pressing her mouth to his just as the countdown hit one.

Sure, Félix had admitted to never having been on a first date, but he’d never admit that he hadn’t ever been kissed either. He stumbled again, his hand finding purchase at her back—for real this time—and in the sudden deafening quiet of the park his body went stiff and his stomach began to turn. He felt every sharp thing he’d ever seen in her, warm and searing—the biting comments, the limits, every little thing that put him in his place—and he fully expected her to rip herself away from him and ask if he was happy now. Instead, all that edge began to fade, and gradually she went lax under his touch. She stood back on her feet, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him with her, let him find and follow the rhythm of her lips. Let him feel the dancing again. And when she finally moved back, she didn’t stray too far. In fact, she was still holding onto him. Like she was considering giving him another.

“Oh,” she rasped. He couldn’t even tell if her eyes were open or closed. If they were still smiling. If I-Love-You Girl was standing in front of him instead.

He didn’t dare move. “What?”

“You have changed. You’re real.”

He wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean. But before he could say anything, she gingerly tapped his chest, stepped out of his grasp, brushed her fingers against her lips before jamming her hands in her pockets.

“How long before you go back to London?” she asked.

“That depends,” he said, all breathy words again. He could still feel the kiss on him. Kicked himself for wanting to feel it again. “If you wanted to see me again, would it a first date, or a second?”

“Let’s go,” Marinette said with a joking shove and a tug toward the bus station. And as they pushed through the crowds she grabbed his hand, and as they rode the bus back she leaned on his shoulder and watched the city die down with him, and before he made it to the lobby of the Grand Paris she pulled him into the dark for one more kiss goodnight. It was well past midnight, and the kiss was quicker than the last, but he returned it anyway, lonely-together with her for those last few seconds.

“If they don’t chew you out in there,” she said, “meet me at the Trocadéro tomorrow at 11.”

Félix raised a brow. “For what? Another second impression?”

Marinette smiled. There wasn't very much I-Love-You Girl lingering there, but he supposed he liked her better that way. “For a second date.”

#miraculous ladybug #felinette #marinette dupain cheng #felix graham de vanily #FELINETTE FANDOM COME AND GET Y'ALL JUICE #these two deserve the slowest of slow burns i'mma keep it real with you chief

[leila4you]

How to Bring Dick Grayson and Damian Wayne into the Live Action DCEU

I think that's what it's called, basically the Live Action Justice League movies and their universe.

Aka My idea for Justice League 2 and I might write a fanfic on this at some point.

This is based on the Synderverse version. I've never seen the 2017 version and don't plan to.

SPOILERS FOR ZAC SNYDER'S JUSTICE LEAGUE AND EVERYTHING HE'S SAID ABOUT THE SNYDERVERSE, UNDER THE RED HOOD STORYLINE (KINDA), GRAYSON COMICS, TEEN TITANS ANIMATED SERIES!(AND I GUESS THE FAB5?)

Okay, so Zac Snyder confirmed awhile ago that the dead Robin is Dick Grayson, and from my understanding, Ben Affleck was going to do an adaptation of the Under the Red Hood storyline. But was canceled ot something. Anyway, what if they did, but with Dick Grayson. It's a very loose adaptation, mostly that Dick was killed by Joker, resurrected, and come back into Bruce's life.

So, Dick dies when he's around 14-15. Dick was around 8 when he started, so it would make a little bit more sense for Bruce to have been comfortable to be patrolling or in general being out by himself, but still be considered young. Dick went to try and stop a lottery, but turns out it was a ruse created by Joker to kidnap Robin!Dick. Joker takes him to a warehouse and essentially does what he did to Jason in the comics (for those who don't know, Joker beat him with a crowbar then blew up the building he was in, killing Jason(Dick in this case)).

Ra's al Ghul hears about Dick's death and puts Dick in the Lazurus Pits to bring him back to life and calls Deathstroke.

Deathstroke and Dick have already met and they have their weird obsessive/mutual respect thing/I-you-as-my-apprentice going on, so Ra's makes a deal with him: Slade can have Dick as his apprentice, but Dick has to help raise and eventually train Bruce's son, Damian. Slade accepts.

So, Dick unwillingly trains under Slade and becomes Renegade until he's 19 and he takes Damian and runs away.

Dick, who doesn't want to drag Bruce into all of this, doesn't go back to Bruce, but plans to when he knows it's safe because he wants Damian to meet his dad.

Eventually, Dick ends up at Spyral and becomes Agent 37, but the whole Nazi thing doesn't happen. The arc where Minos was trying to find out Heroes' identities could happen, but after the events of Justice League and Dick handles it (Basically Grayson comics 1-10 without Dick reporting back to Bruce) when he's like 22.

The Deathstroke and Lex Luthor scene happens and the reason Deathstroke has a vendetta against Batman is because he thinks Batman is hiding Dick and Damian (he doesn't really care about Damian but bringing Damian back to the League would keep him in their favor. He would know Dick's identity, but not Bruce's because he probably didn't believe that Bruce was smart enough to be Batman, but he would protect his son(s). He doesn't know that Bruce doesn't know anything.

So the story is about Deathstroke going after Bruce. At first, everyone thinks that Slade got paid to kill Bruce Wayne, but then Slade kidnaps one the League members (Like Barry) or someone close to them (Alfred or Lois) and says he'll kill them unless Bruce tells Slade where Dick is.

Bruce is mad because Slade is bringing up his dead son, but Slade isn't crazy enough to just make up Dick being alive, so he starts investigating.

He eventually comes to the conclusion that the League of Assassin's, or at least the Lazarus Pits have something to do with it, so he contacts Talia and she tells him the truth (or maybe Talia comes to Gotham looking for Damian and ends up telling Bruce everything when she realizes he doesn't know). But all these events have caught Spyral's attention and Dick and Tiger (and maybe Helena) go to stop Slade. Damian, who's still living with Dick, follows them.

It ends with the JL, Dick, Tiger, and Damian, (and Helena) beating Slade, but Slade escapes (of course). And it ends with people finding out Dick is alive (cover probably being amnesia or Witness Protection) and Dick leaves Spyral.

Maybe there's this conversation between Dick and Clark where Clark tells him the Nightwing story and it kind of sets up Dick to be Nightwing at the end and Damian possibly being Robin? It'd be hard without the closeness between Dick and Clark being there that Nightwing signifies and DCEU Bruce still might not want a Robin with him because of what happened to Dick.

This was just my idea of how they could bring Dick Grayson into the DCEU. Damian also would make sense to bring in this context of why Ra's would do this. And it could fit into Snyder's plan where Clark and Lois's son becomes Batman and Damian takes up Nightwing or be his own hero (he also goes by Redbird in the comics, right?)

I also had an idea that the Teen Titans formed, but just the Fab 5:

Roy Harper is Red Arrow, not much to change with his storyline, Oliver Queen started as Green Arrow around the tim Bruce started being Batman. Dick and Rot probably met at a Gala and hit it off, and eventually all four found out about each other.

Garth: Maybe Arthur found him as a child and helped him get to Atlantis, where Garth eventually becomes an Ambassador for them. He comes to visit Arthur a lot, but doesn't push for him to go to Atlantis, and met the others on one of his trips.

Donna: I read somewhere, and I don't know if it's true, that Donna was Diana's clone who got kidnapped and cursed and her life got like restarted, but this Donna's story is that. Both Diana and Donna know that the other is in the Man's World, but Donna never told Diana about the Teen Titans.

Wally: He traveled from the future (Like Bart) and to change the future and got stuck in the past. He probably lived or spent a lot of time at Wayne Manor, but after Dick died, it hurt to be there, but he visits Bruce and Alfred.

They have Titans Tower in New York.

This was mostly in order to have a way for Slade to meet Dick, and why it would have taken Bruce longer to find and save Dick from Joker. Because Bruce doesn't know New York as well as Gotham and it might take longer for Bruce to even find out that Dick was missing. It kind of doesn't work because why wouldn't he call them to join the Justice League and fight Steppenwolf or even Doomsday? Maybe because he still sees them as kids (even though they'd probably be older than Barry) and losing them would be like losing Dick all over again.

Anyway, that's my idea that will probably never happen, but I might write later.

#dick grayson #nightwing #agent 37 #batman and robin #batman #bruce wayne #justice league #snyderverse #fabfive #damian wayne #teen titans #i want this to happen #but it won't #what was the point of killing off dick #slade wilson #deathstroke #i'd tag more characters but they aren't really mentioned in the post much #spyral #restore the snyderverse

[kdramas-ruined-my-life]

Hiii! My prompt choice for your short hwanghans is "42. I’m going to save you from the terrible date you’re having" because I can imagine either one swooping in to save the other from a blind date gone wrong. Looking forward to the next installment of By Your Side!!

Oooh I love this prompt! Thank you so much for asking it! I hope you enjoy it! It can also be found on Ao3!!!

~

Inspector Han Yeo-Jin tapped out a pattern on the table as she tried to stop herself from rolling her eyes for the fourth time that evening.

Her mother had called her last week randomly as she was leaving work and had told her that she had arranged a blind date with the son of one of her friends. Yeo-Jin was reluctant as she told her mother yes. She was too busy to date, and besides, there were not a lot of men who were interested in dating female police officers.

“...And my company had been developing a new algorithm for analyzing both macro and microeconomics to come up with a...” explained her date as he droned on and on about something she couldn’t even remember ten seconds later.

From the few seconds that she had actually paid attention to the man, she had learned that he was a businessman, apparently someone VERY high up in the corporate world. It seemed like he was used to getting his way with the world. Men like him annoyed her. She had met plenty of them when she interrogated them for fraud, theft, and murder.

His appearance added to her overall dislike of the man. Sure he was attractive by societal standards, but it just didn’t appeal to her. His hair was short and slicked back. The large watch on his wrist and his Italian leather shoes screamed “look at me I have money.” It all reminded her of someone. Everyone’s favorite weasel, Seo Dong Jae.

She had been trying to find a way to get out of the dinner without making a scene. If it was a more casual restaurant, she would have simply stood up and left, but if she did that there, in such a nice restaurant, it would just draw attention.

As she tugged the hem of her black dress down for the fiftieth time that evening, she leaned back in her chair. She thought of any way that she could get out of this situation. Was there anyone who could help her?

Jang Geon mentioned that he was going camping with his family, there wasn’t really anyone she was close to at work, and while she was on better terms with Choi Bit, they weren’t on good enough terms for her to help Yeo-Jin.

It was just then that it struck her. Prosecutor Hwang. It was a stretch, but she remembered from their last text messages a couple of weeks ago that he was going to be in Seoul for some sort of gala for the prosecution. He said he didn’t want to attend, but some of his superiors wanted to send him as a representative for the Wonju firm.

The question was, would he help her? She knew that he didn’t like to get involved in social situations, but she thought he might do it for her. Plus, they hadn’t seen each other since they separated at the restaurant a couple of months ago.

Discreetly pulling out her phone from her purse and setting it in her lap where she could type under the table without her date noticing, she sent a quick text.

Hi Prosecutor Hwang! I know you’re super busy with the gala tonight, but is there any way that you could come to the restaurant that I am at? My mother set me up with a blind date and I feel like I am two seconds away from punching him. How do you feel about preventing me from harming a civilian?

She quickly sent the text and was about to turn her phone off when she pulled her messages back up and sent him an emoji of a cartoon cat winking.

Turning her screen off, Yeo-Jin once again brought her attention back to her date, trying to feign even a small of interest. She really needed Hwang Si-Mok to help her out. It was almost as if that thought had summoned him, the phone in her lap letting out a soft buzz. Glancing at her phone, she saw a single short text.

On my way.

~~~

It had been fifteen minutes and thirty-six seconds since she had received Si-Mok’s reply, and yes she was counting the seconds.

Fortunately, they had only just finished their appetizers and had not ordered the next course. She didn’t want to pay for an overpriced, extremely small portion of food if she was going to leave soon.

However, much to her dismay, the waiter set down two small menus in front of them. She was so close to not having to pay.

Grabbing the menu, Yeo-Jin saw that only four entrees were listed in the front. Flipping to the other side, she noticed that the back was blank. The prices were not even listed on the menu.

Mentally rolling her eyes at the insanity of such a menu, Yeo-Jin fingered the edge, planning to make sure that choosing one of those four entrees was going to be the hardest and longest task she had ever done.

It was then when she noticed a few women at the table beside them start whispering as they looked off in the direction behind Yeo-Jin’s chair. Their slightly wide eyes and opened mouths made it seem as if they had just spotted their favorite idol or drama star. Happy to have a distraction from her date, Yeo-Jin turned in her seat to look to where the women’s gazes were directed. Her eyes slightly widened, almost matching the looks that were on the other women’s faces.

None other than Prosecutor Hwang Si-Mom had entered the building and was walking her way. It was clear that the prosecutor had just come from somewhere fancy.

He had traded out his usual dark suit for a tailored back tux, the craftsmanship emphasizing the broadness of his shoulders. She was shocked to see that he wore a black bow tie. She had always seen him in a tie.

His eyes met hers from across the restaurant, a look of recognition appearing in his eyes as he took a step in her direction. It had to have only taken him a minute to walk over to where she sat, but it felt like much longer as she watched him move in almost slow motion. His steps were confident as he walked over, almost sauntering as he crossed the room. She watched as he brought a hand up to his hair, ruffling it a little, only heightening the greatness of his messy hair. As he approached the table, Yeo-Jin watched as he fiddled with his cufflinks, his eyes never leaving hers. The female inspector felt her heart skip a beat.

Aigoo, is this a runway?

“Inspector Han Yeo-Jin,” Prosecutor Hwang greeted as he gave a quick bow of his head in her direction, not bothering to even look at her date, “I need your assistance on a case immediately.”

Yeo-Jin slightly shook her head, desperate to shake her Si-Mok-filled thoughts from her head. Setting the menu down in front of her on the table, the female inspector stood up from her chair, grabbing her purse and standing beside Si-Mok.

Turning to her date she gave a simple apology for having to leave. When her date offered for them to continue their date, she politely declined and motioned at Si-Mok that she was ready to go.

Noticing that the prosecutor had motioned for her to go first, she stepped in front of him, the click of her heels on the floor confident and unwavering. At least it was until she felt a large hand on the small of her back, the warmth seeping through her dress. She looked to the side, bringing her eyes to his as the prosecutor ushered her out of the restaurant and into the cold night, his hand still not leaving her back.

As they neared his car, she turned to him, a warm smile on her face as she said, “Thank you for saving me.”

She watched as a warm smile appeared on his face in response as he responded, “Of course.”

She tried to hold back her smile as he opened the door for her to get into his car, his hand against the top of the doorframe as if to protect her from hitting her head. A quick glance into his side mirror proved she failed to hide it.

As he hopped in the car and turned it on, Yeo-Jin realized they didn’t have a destination to go to, the case Si-Mok had mentioned clearly simply an excuse. She was desperate to spend more time with him, to simply stay by his side. It had been so long.

“Would you...” Han Yeo-Jin began as his warm voice also spoke up.

“Do you want...”

Yeo-Jin motioned at him to speak first, a warm smile on her face.

“Do you what to get ramen or udon?” The prosecutor asked with an almost apprehensive look on his face, “The gala had horrible food and I have not had the chance to eat much today.”

Yeo-Jin smiled broadly at him as she lightly punched him on the arm, “Aigoo, we must have telepathy. I was just about to ask you that.”

Si-Mok responded with a small smile and she was once again struck by his beauty. Sitting beside him in his car was peaceful, the outside world a blur of neon lights and people talking.

It looked as if he had almost wanted to say something but Si-Mok turned his attention away from her as he pulled out of the parking spot and onto the road.

Yeo-Jin really wanted to know what he was about to say, but she knew he would tell her eventually. He always did.

Looking over at Si-Mok, she felt her lips quirk up into yet another smile since he had saved her from her horrible date.

“So, how was the gala?” Yeo-Jin asked as she leaned back in her seat, “Oh, and how’s Wonju? You’ll have to tell me all about it....”

It was a pleasant drive to the pop-up bar, their conversations as connected and friendly as always, and if Si-Mok had taken the longer route to get there, no one had commented on it.

#secret forest 2 #stranger 2 #hwang si mok #han yeo jin #hwanghan #secret forest #hwang shi mok #tvn stranger #tvn secret forest #my fic #writing prompt #asks #cupofteaandstars

[jbbuckybarnes]

Time Stops

Pairing: Bucky x Reader Desc: This is for @ussgallifreyfics​  #gallifreys500 writing challenge. Not beta read. Prompt: “They say when you meet the love of your life, time stops, and that’s true.” - Big Fish Warnings: FLUFF

MASTERLIST

They say when you meet the love of your life, time stops, and that’s true. You’ve seen it with friends that had met their soulmates the day they were ready to. They stopped aging. When you turned 18 you could find your soulmate and never age again. While that was beautiful, it also put a lot of pressure on you and a lot of pity on people growing old. Usually people would just feel who their soulmate is, but there also were soulmate marks. They weren’t big or anything to brag with, but yours was a little heart-shaped darker spot on the back of your right hand. Right between the thumb and the pointer finger connection. Definitely a space you massaged a lot when you got nervous.

Right now was one of those situations. You were waiting in line to get onto a plane to New York City. A trip you made once or twice a year to meet your friends. While you loved New York, you hated flying. The many alien attacks and whatnot of the last decade weren’t helping with your anxiety. The plane being delayed on top of that was even worse for your mind going in circles. A big man sat down next to you, putting down a duffle bag and getting out a book with the title, “Love, Simon.” Wasn’t that a book about a closeted teenage boy? Didn’t match up at all with the giant frame the man had, but you smiled to yourself. You scrolled through Instagram, created a new collection for cute cat pictures and went on about your anxiety soothing. When you were finally boarding, your anxiety went through the roof again. Thankfully you had downloaded a whole documentary for the flight, otherwise you’d go insane. When you were situated in the plane and had gotten out your headphones, the giant man found his seat, the one which just so happened to be next to you. It was about to get cozy, but you weren’t complaining. You’d rather have a giant man with a good taste in books next to you than a creep or a family with a newborn baby. After your heart almost jumped out of your chest while you took off you finally could relax and start watching your space documentary. Every now and then you felt him flip a page in his book very delicately. Your hand landed on the little table your phone was situated on to give him more space, which is when you started to feel the stare on you. Well, now it WAS a little creepy. He tapped your shoulder and you stopped the show and looked at him. Woah, wait, you knew that face. That was Bucky Barnes, wasn’t it? “Sorry for interrupting, I just...I saw you like space and, uh, could you tell me what documentary that is? It looks awesome.” he gave a shy smile before looking away, right hand going through his beard. Wait a damn second. “Huh?” he looked back at you confused. “I said that out loud.” you stated to yourself and closed your eyes. “Yes, you did.” Now he was grinning at you, eyeing your slightly flustered face. “Uh, your soulmate mark. Are you…?” your eyes went from his eyes to his hand. “What makes you think that?” “You didn’t really age but you also were in cryo a lot, so it’s quite difficult to tell.” you grinned. He smiled wide and looked down on his hand before shaking his head, “No, haven’t found them. I don’t think I ever will. 70 years is quite a lot-” He saw your right hand come into his field of vision and his eyes went wide and back up at you. You were amused at the weird situation you had just put each other into and you couldn’t deny that you liked how he turned into a soft dorky man. But maybe that was just him outside of the news. “So...uh...wow.” Another time that he went through his hair. “Yeah,” you looked up at him with shimmery eyes. You respected the man in front of you so much for what he went through and that he was still here. But that giant dork that looked illegally good was your soulmate? That must be a dream. “So...would you like to go on a date anytime soon? I’d love to get to know you.” he got a little confidence back and gave an unsure smile to you. “Of course, I know this really great brunch place in the Upper West Side.” you smiled a little giddy. “Spring Natural Kitchen?” he asks. “Spring Natural Kitchen.” you nodded chuckling. “Wanda told me about it. She loves testing new places whenever she’s not on call.” “Sounds like I’d get along great with her.” “So...why are you flying to New York? You live there?” he finally asks and you shake your head. “I live near Denver and come here sometimes to meet friends and have a good time for a week or two.” “Which city’s better?” he smirked. “I like both, but I have a job back in Denver that I love. I’m working in a very laid back modern restaurant, café kinda establishment.” you explained. “Well, if you’re my soulmate, you might as well open up a second one of those in New York City, cause that sounds great.” By now he was so deep in your flirting battle that he totally forgot that he just met you. “You just want that cinnamon cupcake goodness.” you laughed. “I’d never say no to any food, I think that gets very clear when you look at me.” he looked down on himself. “Hm, yeah, a little.” You grinned, “Hungry giant.” “Oh, we’re already starting pet names, huh?” his brows went up. The giggle escaping you widened his big smile. ___ *You ready to get picked up and judged by Sam Wilson?* *Why not by Wanda? Or literally anyone that’s not Sam?* *I ask myself that every single day, darling.* *I’m ready by the way...and ready to fight Wilson if I need to.* *Sure, darling.* you could practically feel him grinning at his phone screen. *And by that I mean, if he dares to, you’ll defend me anyway, cause you’re cute like that.* Not too long after the AirBnB’s doorbell rang and you ran to the door in your comfy outfit. It was a brunch date, not a fancy gala. When you opened the door you were met with his audacity to wear a leather jacket. “Aw, come on. Really? A leather jacket? Like you don’t know that it’s super hot?” you pouted and were pulled into a hug. “You look cute. Is that Totoro on your sweater?” he held you and looked down on you. “Old man knows Totoro, check.” you grinned. “Hey, I’ve been catching up for 4 years. There needs to be SOME stuff that sticks.” “Could the lovebirds that both can’t drive please move their asses a little faster?” you heard out of a car behind Bucky. “Could the angry bird please chill?” Bucky answered without even looking at him. “C’mon, let’s go and give the man a break.” you chuckled before taking his hand and dragging him towards the car. “So, tell me about yourself. Anything that I don’t already know from social media and our chats.” he grinned. “I stress bake, my favorite shows are all documentaries, I’d love to have a cat, I’m into astrology, I love to draw and paint, my music taste is a literal dumpster fire and I really like sneakers.” you counted a few that you found to be relevant to yourself. “I’m still learning to cook new foods. I actually have a cat, her name’s Alpine, she’s an absolute whirlwind but she’s the most loyal little thing ever.” he smiled. “What kinda cat is she?” you asked excited. “British Shorthair and white.” he beamed. “I already love her. I’d love to get a completely black cat.” you leaned onto your hands. “We could.” he squinted with a cheeky smile. “You’re already thinking about moving my ass to New York, aren’t you?” you chuckled. “You’re my soulmate, why not? It’s not like you’re a shot in the dark or anything like that.” That made you feel warm inside, very very warm. “Yeah, guess you’re right.” you looked at the table flustered. “So, assuming you would stay here…” he got your attention back and god were his eyes sure of you staying here, “...would you actually open up a cool place like this?” “I’d love to but...renting a place like this in New York City? Making it look nice and advertising it? That’s so hard.” “Hi, you’re sitting in front of the longest prisoner of war. If you think Sam didn’t sue the shit out of the military to get me paid for that, then you’re wrong.” he grinned accomplished. “Bucky, you can’t-” “I can, tell me what you’d want to do.” he smiled at you softly, grabbing your hand. After a few moments of grasping the moment you continued, “Well, similar to this place, but with cakes, pies and cookies. And with a completely different color scheme. Very bright, like white and some pastel colors. I’d try to find tons of recipe’s online and let you try them until I have like 12 good and special ones that work. I’d always have a jar of triple chocolate cookies and a chocolate bomb cake. Maybe even sweet ice cream in summer? I’d have chessboard tiled wall behind the counter and hang nice art work in the rest of the place. I’d probably have someone bring in dog cake every week so they also get some good food. I’d make milkshakes, have a barista working and would create some special hot chocolate mix. Maybe I’d do something themed after you. Like little cookies with the- wait, do you hate the red star on your old arm? I know it’s very much a connection to the Sowjets, but I don’t really look at it like that.” “I’m neutral about it. I write autographs on cards with red stars all the time.” he shrugged. “Then there will be red star cookies. Maybe something themed after your bird friend?” you grinned. “He needs to work for it.” he laughed. “I make a mad cinnamon banana milkshake. That would sell very well.” you mumbled before taking a sip from the drink in front of you. “Cookies with red chocolate melted into it...that’s a good one for Wanda, isn’t it?” you smiled shyly, trying to not misjudge his friends. “I love that idea. Maybe something egg based for Sam, you know, cause he’s a falcon. I’ll shut my mouth…” he grinned and watched you snort laugh. The waffles you ordered were set down in front of you and you continued talking about the interior of your dream place. “I don’t know if I’d do it in Manhattan or Brooklyn. I mean Brooklyn literally has cute food places as its elevator pitch.” “I guess it depends where you’d find a place.” “Yeah, forgot, we’re in the ultimate place of renting stuff.” you grumbled and heard him chuckle. ___ “Finally!” you jumped around in the empty space that was about to become your own little store. You’d been with Bucky for three months now and your old boss was more than happy to have a new venture. And you were more than happy to have gotten such a great soulmate. He even got his driver's license to drive you around and go on little trips with you when he wasn’t working. Brooklyn Heights, right next to the Brooklyn Bridge, with an apartment right above. “Let’s measure and buy a nice kitchen for you to bake cupcakes in, darling.” he grabbed you close. “You just wanna eat, honey.” you pouted. “Of course, I eat everything you make.” he planted a kiss onto your forehead. “Hm, okay, let’s measure and drive to Home Depot too.” you smiled content and got another kiss. “You know, I think I found you at the right time. I like how you look. Not a day too young or too old.” you mumbled. “I would have loved you at any age I could’ve found you.” he hummed. “Yeah, that’s because you’re a hopeless romantic.” you giggled. “Only for you, darling.” “Love you,” you mumbled before pressing your lips against his, “so much.” “Let’s get your dream kitchen,” he said while lightly slapping your ass. “Hey! Watch your hands, Barnes.” you playfully scolded him. “Yes, ma’am.” he rolled his eyes before picking you up and carrying you to the damn car himself.

#mine #gallifreys500 #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #james barnes #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #the winter soldier #captain america #mcu #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #text #bucky fanfic #sam wilson #sam wilson fanfiction

[bleufrost]

Eyes Set to Kill || John Wick x assassin! reader

Summary/request: Hi lovely! ❤️ Could you please do a blurb about John Wick x assassin reader? They’re both working the same contract where the target is at a gala and they need to blend in there so they’re both dressed really nicely and another man starts talking with the reader. Some jealous John Wick would give me life! Thank you!!

Requested by: @live-the-beautiful-game

A/N:  this wasn’t supposed to be a full length fic but i just couldn’t stop writing! I absolutely adored the idea, so thank you so much for requesting it love!

Warnings: swearing, violence, blood, insecurities, jealousy!!, and some unwanted sexual behavior. dont force yourselves on people guys, John may be fictional but I’m not and I can and will hunt you down if you do that! lets go!!

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

You smoothed down the sleek fabric of your long black dress. It was an absolutely gorgeous, floor length gown with small black diamonds embedded into its seams that caught the light in a way that was nearly breathtaking. The dark lipstick you had painted onto your lips was flawless and sharp in the corners, perfectly matching the smokey makeup and curled hair you had meticulously put into place. You finished the look off with a black lace choker and placed a diamond in one ear and a dragon cuff that stretched from your earlobe to the wings at the curve of your ear and around to the sharp teeth in its jaw that rested alongside the top. It was eye-catching enough to render the earpiece nearly invisible to any outside person, just as your outfit served the same distracting purpose for the various weapons you had concealed beneath the dress. Finally, you had chosen to wear a spiraling anklet to take attention away from the intricate dagger that John had given you one morning, claiming it made him feel less uneasy to know you were always armed with something to help protect you.

As your mind wandered to John, your eyes made their way back to the mirror. Your stomach began to turn at the thought of him seeing you in such a nice outfit. Suddenly you began to second guess your appearance. Was it too much? Did your makeup look too dark? What if John didn’t like the color black? No. That was stupid, of course he liked the color black, he wore it every day of his life. But your earrings weren’t black, so what if he didn’t like silver or diamond? You began to panic as you picked apart your entire outfit, and then you began to pick yourself apart. Before you could do any lasting damage to your self esteem though, a knock was heard at the door. Taking a deep breath, you wondered if it was too late to back out of this contract. Unfortunately, you deduced that it was, so you made your way over to open it.

John stood outside your door as he brushed down his suit one last time, hoping the new, all black outfit would be to your liking. It was soft, something he had purposefully done because he knew how much you enjoyed toying with the fabric of his suits. He had agreed to complete this contract with you after he had heard just how dangerous it could get. He kept telling himself it was to protect you from the men that would surely be ready to kill you, but he knew deep down that he really wanted to go to keep the grabbing hands of uncultured brats away from you. The gala that you two would attend to kill your mark was a high end celebration of fashion, but from the way the people there acted John knew it was far more an excuse to get drunk and take advantage of people that disgustingly rich kids used to keep face in the eyes of the media. He couldn’t stand the thought of some asshole touching you, much less trying to sleep with you. Obviously John knew you would never cheat on him, but some of those people definitely did not know that. He wanted to go to remind them.

John brought himself away from his thoughts and back to the present moment. Here he was, standing outside your door looking like a fool in a stupid black suit. But at least it was soft. Finally, he lifted his hand to the door and allowed his knuckles to softly rap against the wood.

You took in one more deep breath as you stood right by the door. You were still unsure of yourself, but you wanted to see John so you steeled yourself and opened the door. Your breath was instantly taken away at the beauty of the man you loved. He was dressed head to toe in a sexy black suit that made the perfect companion to your own gown. You took a moment to shamelessly take in his entire appearance, from the well groomed hair and beard that scratched at you deliciously in the most intimate of ways, down to the tailored black pants that seemed to wrap around him in perfect fashion, to the shiny dress shoes that were tied in a delicate bow, piecing together like gift wrap on the most stunning man you had ever met. Your eyes made their way back up to his, meeting just as he finished looking you over as well. You smiled at that. “You look handsome as ever, John.” You moved to the side, spreading your arm out to indicate that he should enter. John stepped forward, making his way inside as you shut the door. When you turned to talk to him, he came forward and pinned you against it.

“You look absolutely breathtaking.” Your breathing picked up as you felt his own hot breath hitting your face. He was dangerously close and you knew that dark look in his eyes promised that he was in work mode. John wasn’t playing tonight, and you were more than okay with that if it meant you could see this dark and possessive side of him a little longer. You nipped at him playfully before pushing against his chest. “Thank you baby,” you said as you walked over to your laptop. “Hey, what did I say about that?” You lifted your eyes from the screen to see him taking a seat on the sofa across from you. “Right, sorry. No pet names on the job, got it.” You childishly saluted John as though you were taking orders, but he frowned at you sternly. You sighed. “Okay, I’m sorry. I’ll take this seriously, I promise.” John let out his own sigh as he heard the resigned tone to your voice. He didn’t like being the stop to your playful nature, he loved how light hearted you were and the joy you brought to daily life was something he depended on to get through most days, but today he needed to ensure you were thinking straight. He didn’t want you letting your guard down and getting hurt.

“We can go out and do something fun when this is over, I promise. Whatever you want to do, even if it’s that Disney place with the creepy little mouse. Just promise me you’ll take this seriously tonight.” You looked at him and smiled widely. “His name is Mickey, and he’s not creepy.” John returned the smile for only a moment before he got serious again. “Promise me.” Sighing, you decided it was time to put on your game face. It was time to complete the contract. “I promise.” John nodded and got up. “Okay, let’s go over this one more time and get moving.”

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

The gala was filled to the brim with gorgeous people. Everywhere you looked, cameras flashed and limos pulled up. You had been nervous about not fitting in with all of the supermodel-esque people here, but John had assured you that you looked far beyond simply fitting in. You tried to believe everything he said, but you couldn’t help but wonder if his own eyes were noticing the women here as much as yours were. You felt unease twist within your stomach once again, but you had a job to do here, a contract to fill.

“Target is going to be in the v.i.p. section. Show them the card i gave you and you should have no trouble getting in.” John’s voice was comforting to hear in your earpiece, and you garnered up every bit of confidence you had before making your way to the roped off section. You walked up to the guard at the entrance, flashing him a brilliant smile before pulling the card out from the top of your dress. “Hey there, you think you could help me with this?” He looked down at the card, taking it from you and reading it over before placing it back between your fingers. The guard turned and unclipped the rope, stepping aside to let you pass. “Have a nice evening Miss.” You smiled at him again, thanking him and making your way in. Grabbing a drink from a passing waiter, you focused your gaze on the target before getting just within his range of focus. You wanted him to come to you. Taking perch by the railing, you sway your hips to the music, closing your eyes and allowing yourself to feel sexy for a moment, a moment that was far too brief for your liking. You had been calm before rough hands grasped your waist and pulled at you. It made you want to vomit, but you swallowed thickly and put on your best seductive look. It’s game time.

John sat keeping an eye on you from across the way at a seperate balcony. Girls in skimpy dresses and boys in overly priced suits walked by, some making attempts to talk and sit with him, but he paid them no mind. He didn’t care about anyone here but you, and fingers tightened around the base of his glass as he watched you swaying to the music. At first he wanted to hold you, feel your hips moving against him as you allowed yourself to get lost in the beat, and then he felt a hot rage flare through him as the man, the target, grabbed you and took his place against you. The place that was reserved for John and John alone. He knew this was a contract. It was a job and nothing else. You didn’t care about that man and only allowed yourself to be touched by him to finish what you and John had come here to do. You didn’t want that guy, but that thought didn’t stop John from smashing his glass against the floor and abruptly standing. When the man brushed your hair back and leaned in to put his mouth by your ear, John was pissed. His eyes narrowed dangerously and no amount of risk, no man or weapon or threat, nothing could stop him from making his way over to you and ripping that man’s hand away from your body. He would gladly cut the tongue from his mouth if he found you had been touched by it in any way. His eyes were set to kill, and luckily his target was heading out the door with you to a place he couldn’t defend himself; or have anyone do it for him. John would’ve happily killed anyone who got in his way regardless.

The target had fallen into your trap seamlessly. You weren’t quite so prepared for the level of crudeness he possessed, but it made it just that much easier to convince him to go somewhere private. His strong hands held you tightly to him, nearly pulling you beside him as he took you to his suite. You had made it up to a level that was dead silent and empty, and you chose this moment to stall and find a way to let John know what room you would be in so he could come help if it was needed. You used the arm he was grasping to pull back a bit and he turned around to look at you. “What’s the problem?” He looked you dead in the eye and for a moment you felt afraid, but you managed to smile and place a hand on his face. “Nothing, sexy. I can’t wait to get back to your room. I was just curious as to how you got into this hotel, it’s gorgeous. I bet only the richest guys can afford it and, what suite did you say you were in? Because I bet it’s the best too, right?” You leaned into him and he looked at you suspiciously for a second. Internally, you panicked at that. You thought your cover was blown and that you would be fighting this man out here right now. Luckily though, the suspicious aura left him as he let out an alcohol laced breath in your face. He laughed loudly, hurting your ears before slamming your body against his own, breathing into your ear. “Babydoll, I have the best of every fucking thing you could think of. Best hair, clothes, chicks, and the best goddamn penthouse suite to show you what else I have that’ll just make you scream.” You really did almost throw up at that point, but you were prepared to suffer through it because this asshole had luckily shared with you, and more importantly, John, which room was his. What you weren’t prepared for was his slimy mouth to land on yours and cut the air straight from your lungs. You couldn’t bring yourself to kiss him back as his hands greedily grabbed at you, tongue forcing it’s way past your lips. You pushed him away instantly, prepared to slit his throat for violating you. John would never touch you without permission and you felt the sudden urge to see him grow intensely within you after that event transpired. Before you even had the chance to act though, you heard him.

John found you alone in a hallway with that poor excuse for a human being. He had followed you, using the voices he heard from your earpiece as a guide to get him to his prey faster. His heart had dropped when he heard the suspicious edge to the guy’s voice as he spoke to you, but that paled in comparison to the way in which his blood boiled when he heard what could only be some form of gross kissing from the comm. His legs moved him faster than he had ever dared move on an incognito kill, but he threw all caution to the wind when he realized what was happening. He was there in an instant.

“Is everything alright?” John’s voice was tense behind you, yet it still brought you comfort. You turned to look at him, his eyes darker than you’d ever seen them before, hands shaking at his side, and breath coming out rigidly. You only took notice because it was your job to, the asshole behind you only saw John as the tall and intimidating man who interrupted his makeout session, not the terrifying assassin he truly was.

“Keep moving buddy, everything is just fine! My girl and I were just heading up for a little fun.” He made a move to grab you, but John was quicker. Pulling you back behind him, he advanced on the target and cornered him against the wall. “I am not your buddy and she is not your girl.” You saw John making a move for his gun, but you put your hand over his to stop him. “It’s okay! Everything is totally alright, thank you for the concern, but I would hate to make a scene over nothing out here.” You smiled tightly at John, hoping he would take the hint that a hallway would be harder for the cleanup crew to fix than an isolated hotel room. Luckily, John was a smart man and understood, but not without some hesitation. You silently told him you would be fine, and he looked you over to be certain you were sure before releasing the target. John stepped back as you took pace beside the guy you were going to kill, walking away with him as he whispered obscenities under his breath. He was afraid of John and couldn’t muster the courage to say that shit to his face; coward. You didn’t look back at John, but were listening very closely when the guy beside you started speaking with a bit more of a violent edge. “I swear to god, I’m gonna have my men fuck that guy up. He won’t even make it out of the building before they put a bullet in his stupid fucking head.” That was it. You put up with a lot of shit on a job, but even you had a line that could not be crossed.

Swiftly, you pulled out of his grip and leaned down, sliding the knife out of the sheath concealed in your anklet. When the target made a move to grab you, you slammed him back against the wall and held him there with your arm across his neck. You leaned in and looked him dead in the eye, just as he had done to you earlier; only now he was the one being intimidated. “You should really learn to shut your fucking mouth.” Before he could move, you had the knife plunged into his gut. Taking it out and stabbing it back in a few more times, you pulled it out once more, letting him go to slump against the wall. You spit on him and turned to walk away, but his hand found its way to your ankle, holding onto it as blood sputtered from his mouth. You turned back and kicked your leg out of his grasp. “Don’t fucking touch me.” You were disgusted with him and were glad to be rid of him, you would happily pay the extra fee to the cleaning crew for the more public setting. It was worth not having to spend another second with that scumbag.

You turned the corner and found John waiting. He came to you instantly, fuse still burning bright from the entire situation. Taking in your face and shaking hands though, he knew something had happened and set aside his emotions to tend to you. Holding your arms in his he reminded you to breath. John could tell you were scared, but more prominently, angry. “What happened? Are you okay?” The questions were rushed, but still calm as he tried to figure out the next move. It took you a moment, a moment that seemed to last forever as you played back the violation and threats of death that scumbag had flung around all night, but you finally let out an unamused chuckle. “I’m fine, John. Mr. Handsy over there, not so much. He got a little too mouthy for my liking. I hate a guy who doesn’t know when to shut his mouth.” You smirked at John before he nodded in understanding. This wasn’t the first time one of you had opted to end the contract early due to unforeseen circumstances. “Should I call in housekeeping?” You were about to answer when a groan could be heard from the hallway you had just come from. Looking back to John, you let a twisted little smile creep up on your face. “Well, Mr. Wick it seems that the contract is still open. Would you like to do the honors?” John, on the other hand, did not smile. He was dead serious when he turned toward the sound, pulling his gun from its holster and muttering, “gladly,” before turning the corner.

You heard a muffled scream followed by a silenced gunshot, and just like that John returned to your side. He was far more relaxed as he took your arm in his and you made your way back to the car, calling in ‘housekeeping’ on your way out.

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

You were snuggled into John’s side playing with the soft fabric of his suit in the safety of the Continental now. You loved the feeling of the fibers beneath your fingertips, but you loved seeing how your hand rose and fell with John’s breathing even more; it calmed you to know he was alive and safely hidden away with you. The contract had been completed successfully, which usually called for some form of celebration. When you got back though, you had nearly been forced to beg John to stay. In the end, he came in and the two of you had laid down on the bed together; you assumed he was just tired, but there was a tense feel to the air that didn’t belong there. After a moment of thought, you rested your chin on his chest and spoke up. “John, baby, is everything okay? You seem a little upset.” He let out a small puff of air, looking away to gather his thoughts before he stared out the window. “It’s fine. Just get some rest.” You felt a slight pang in your chest but knew you couldn’t just leave it at that. John had trouble opening up and you could respect that, but not when it came between the two of you. You sat up to look at him directly. Your words were quiet, but rang strong nonetheless. “Don’t push me away, John. If I did something to upset you, I need to know.” John closed his eyes for what seemed like a lifetime, and when he opened them you could see the jealousy and vulnerability that danced within the brown that brought color to them.

“Did you enjoy it?” You thought for a moment, your eyebrows knitting together in confusion as you let your head cock to the side. Did he mean getting dressed up or the kill or..? He let out a frustrated breath when he realized he had to be more specific. “Did you enjoy it when he touched you, when he kissed you?” Your eyes widened at that and you instantly felt disgust flow through you. “Ew. God, John no! I hated every damn second of that.” John studied your face, looking for any sign of insincerity. He could look, but he would find none and you were sure of that. When he made no move to say or do anything, you took the initiative and scooted over to straddle his waist. “Baby, I don’t want anyone touching me except you. The only hands I want to feel on me are yours,” you said this while taking his hands into your own and placing them on your waist as you put yours around his neck and leaned closer. “The only lips I want to taste are yours,” you rested your forehead against his, letting your tongue dart out to wet your lips. “The only person I ever want-” You were cut off as John made the move and kissed you with a passion you’d never felt before. It was intense, it was warm, but most of all, it reminded you that John was not the stone cold killer that people told stories about late at night. He wasn’t the boogeyman, he was real, alive, and capable of feeling insecure just as you were. You hoped he knew how much you loved him though.

You pulled back with a smile now gracing your lips. John smiled too, before the insecurity creeped back in. “Do you mean that?” He looked you deep in the eyes, and you had no hesitation in assuring him that yes, you meant it. “John, I am absolutely crazy for you. I would say that I’d do anything to prove it, but I kind of already killed a man so I think you know what’s on the table.” The two of you laughed before John pulled you back down to lay on his chest. Your hand found its way back to his suit, rising and falling, and his head found its way back to lay atop yours as you both sought out sleep.

“Technically, I killed him.” Well that was unexpected. You were about to protest before you realized he was right. Then you remembered.

“Well if we’re being technical about the things we said and did, then you technically still have to take me to Disneyland.” You smiled to yourself, you weren’t going to let that one go anyway, but this had been the perfect time to bring it up. You didn’t hear John respond and almost thought he had fallen asleep or hadn’t heard you, but then it happened. In a sleepy little tone a single phrase escaped John’s mouth, “shit.” You laughed and finally allowed yourself the sleep you so desperately longed for. Disney would be fun.

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

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Hi, @ravenfan1242​. Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy. did i have fun writing this one. 

—

Seeing Raven at the Gotham City gala was a surprise. Granted, the gala was held at the national museum, so it might have held some level of interest for Raven. At first, Tim wasn’t sure it even was her, but the purple hair and eyes, and those deadly curves, were pretty much a giveaway.

Tim barely paid attention to the two businessmen talking to him. He hummed occasionally at the right places in the conversation but kept his blue eyes trained at the woman across the ballroom. As socialites, politicians, celebrities, and business leaders milled around the grand ballroom in their flashy dresses that would put any other MET Gala to shame, Raven was dressed in a flowing black sleeveless dress that dipped so dangerously low in her back. For a brief moment, Tim was entranced watching Raven’s back enticingly move as she slipped from one painting to the next.

Raven, for her part, seemed perfectly oblivious to the whole drama around her and instead kept her focus on the priceless art pieces hanging on the walls.

It had been a couple of years since Tim had seen Raven – maybe at Dick’s wedding? Most of the Titans had moved on with their lives, each taking on different paths in their superhero journeys. Garfield, Dick and Kory remained with the Titans, working to train young superheroes. Victor had been accepted by the Justice League. Raven, he heard, had moved out of the Titans and taken on a more civilian life. But he did hear Constantine and Zatana talk about her on occasion.

“So, I’m saying if we can just adjust our forecasting a little bit, we won’t have to worry about not reaching our targets,” one of the men droned on.

Tim paused from nursing his scotch when Raven turned on her heels and headed towards the bar. As she turned, he was 100% sure she glanced in his direction out of the corner of her eyes. A small smile played on her lips as he continued to watch her grab a champagne glass from the bar and make her way to another corner of the room.

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” not bothering to wait for their replies, Tim left the small group and set to find Raven in the crowd.

He found her behind a woman dressed extravagantly in a gown that could only be described as a candelabra – it had glowing candles! As he maneuvered himself through the crowd, Tim looked up and caught purple eyes staring directly at him. It really was Raven.

“Careful,” he heard her soft voice over the ambient music in the ballroom. Her eyes held an amused twinkle as she watched him squeeze through a couple of more extravagantly dressed couples. “I saw one of those dresses leak water,”

Tim chuckled and briefly looked over his shoulder at the dress in question. The woman was dressed in something akin of a waterfall with water dripping down her train. “Ah. That must not be comfortable,”

Raven took a sip of her champagne and Tim felt like she was measuring him up with her deep purple stare. Tim tried to distract himself just a little bit, by stuffing his free hand into his pocket. He’s be lying if he didn’t say that Raven had always intimidated and intrigued him just a bit. Her presence when they were growing up always held a deeply mysterious note on her and it always had him staring at her on occasion, wondering what she was thinking.

“Rav-”

“Rachel,”

Tim blinked and stared at the purple haired woman. “Ah,”

Raven offered an amused smile. She extended her hand, briefly looked over to some curious women and men who watched Tim Drake talk to some random woman at the gala. “My name is Rachel Roth,”

Tim grinned. Of course. Hurriedly pulling out his hand from his pocket, his warm hand engulfed her small, soft hand. “Tim Drake,” he said. “It’s nice to meet you,” his lips quirked and he dropped his voice just a little. “Again,”

Raven offered him a soft smile. “How have you been?”

Tim shrugged dismissively. “So, so.” He said and pointed at the glass door leading to the balcony, motioning for her to follow. “It’s been pretty busy at work, Bruce has been unforgiving when it comes to dishing out work,”

Raven chuckled softly and followed him out onto the balcony. She walked up the stone railings briefly surveyed the cityscape they could  see from where they stood. “I’m pretty sure you’re the only one Bruce trusts to do the work,”

Tim grinned and stood next to her, folding his arms over the railing and turning to her. “Am I hearing a compliment?”

Raven glanced at him with a mildly amused expression. “Well, Damian is still a kid, Jason is doing god knows what where, and Dick has his family priorities,” she hummed. “You are the only one,”

Tim stared at Raven as she leaned in to him ever so slightly with a teasing look. He laughed loudly, and shook his head in amusement. People were so vastly wrong about Raven, he mused. She was full of surprises. “Hey!”

Raven wrinkled her nose when Tim nudged her shoulder with his teasingly. “Just saying as it is,”

Tim took a swig of the last of his scotch, his insides warming slightly – either from the alcohol or Raven’s light teasing. He turned to her, eyeing her curiously. “How have you been? It’s been a couple of years,”

She shrugged lightly and took a tiny sip of her champagne. “I’m about to graduate next week with a literature and history degree,”

Of course Raven had gone to University. That’s what she’d do – always thirsty for new knowledge. Tim was impressed. “Literature and History? Wow. Must be interesting,” he said.

Raven looked utterly pleased as she turned to him. “It is. I’d be lying if I’d say I didn’t have a lot of fun going over some Latin scripts and early civilization records,”

Tim smiled as he watched her lips. “We have a lot of old Latin books and some other antique books at the Wayne library if you ever want to see those,” he said, tilting his head in her direction.

Raven’s eyes widened just a little bit and she raised a teasing eyebrow at him. Leaning in just a tiny bit into his space, just a little so she could catch the scent of his musky aftershave. Sandalwood. “Isn’t it a little bit too early in the evening for you to invite me over with your library, Tim?” she teased softly, her voice holding an amused lilt to it.

Tim felt his insides warm again in a very familiar way. He blinked and felt just a tiny bit flustered but he also knew she was just lightly pulling his leg. Or was she? He refused to move out of the way as Raven leaned into his space teasingly. Two could play that game.

He sent a playful, sly smile and leaned into her space just a fraction of an inch. He met her amused stare with his own. “Never too early,”

Raven’s cheeks colored slightly and her stomach warmed not because of her champagne. She watched as Tim calmly leaned on the stone railing, long hair falling into his eyes which she admittedly wanted to brush away from his face. His lips quirked into a deeper amused smile and she had to look away, lightly flustered. She smiled and looked at him through the corner of her eye as she took the last sip of her champagne. “We’ll see,”

Tim chuckled an kept his close spot next to her, feeling more at ease with her. This side of Raven he liked. “I didn’t know you went to Gotham U,”

Raven shook her head. “Finishing at NYU,”

Tim grinned. “Always the smart one,” he paused and looked at her curiously. “So what brings you to Gotham? You didn’t come here just for the gala, right? Because, I know I’d rather be anywhere but here,”

To corner of her lips raised. “Bruce leave you all alone here?”

Tim shrugged. “Bruce left for Paris this morning for a business event and had me come here. I feel like he did it on purpose,” he said. He turned and looked down at her amused expression. Was she always this tiny? He tilted his head towards her again and offered a small smile. “Besides, I got pretty good company now, so coming here wasn’t so bad after all,”

“Really?” he could hear the amused tone in her voice. Her smile grew just a little bit.

“Really.”

“Well, I guess we’re lucky the ticket I bought yesterday from this guy outside the museum was legit. He looked very shifty,” Raven propped her chin on her hand as she looked thoughtfully at Tim.

Tim eyes widened with amusement. “You got your ticket yesterday? From some random guy off the street?”

Raven shrugged nonchalantly. “Seemed like a good idea at the time,”

Tim raised an eyebrow and watched Raven in the soft evening moonlight. Light spilled over her shoulders, giving her a soft glow as she looked at the cityscape in front of them. He was reminded again how beautiful Raven was. Tim swallowed at the thought. “Raven?” he gently prodded as a brief silence fell on them.

“My mother was from Gotham,”

Blue eyes widened and he leaned a little closer to Raven unconsciously. He didn’t know that. “Really?” his voice dropped a little lower. He eyed Raven curiously. “So you…”

Raven tilted her head in his direction and shot him brief glance. “I just honestly wanted to see what Gotham is like,”

“But you’ve been here before.”

Raven offered him a small smile. “Maybe I just wanted to see Gotham through regular eyes?” She said. “I’ve been going to some places my mother liked when she was growing up here. I wanted to see Gotham through her eyes,”

“That’s beautiful,” Tim stared at her, taking in her bittersweet smile. A slight breeze swept over them and he watched her short purple hair tickle her chin. He felt like he found more than her story beautiful.

Raven’s cheeks colored slightly and she looked at Tim. “The museum has been closed since I got here and I’m leaving tomorrow evening. Getting into the gala was the only way for me to see the museum,”

“Always the one with a smart plan,” Tim teased. He chuckled when Raven rolled her eyes at him. “How do you like Gotham?”

Raven looked thoughtful for a moment, trying to think of an answer. “I like it,” she replied. “It’s a really busy city but also a lot quieter than New York or Jump. There are so many things to discover in the city and everything seems to be surprisingly well curated. It’s a bit more mysterious with its secrets,”

Tim looked at her impressed.

He briefly looked at her lips and suddenly had a deep desire to be closer to her. He shifted closer, his elbow brushing up against hers. He leaned into her a bit more, he faintly smelled her soft perfume of vanilla and fruits. “So, uncover a few more secrets while you were here?” he asked.

Raven looked at him and felt herself warm again at the sight of his amused blue eyes. She felt the warm push of Tim’s emotions against her own. Glancing briefly at the amused smile on his lips, she stared into his blue eyes and shot him a rare smile. “Maybe.”

Tim smiled. Pushing himself away from the railing, he stood up straight and smoothly plucked Raven’s empty champagne glass out of her hands. He met her raised eyebrow with a smooth smile. “I know it’s not Gotham’s most important sight to see, but, would you want to leave this place and get some coffee?” He paused. “Or tea?”

Raven felt her face warm as she stared at Tim. She thought of her options and faintly wondered what would happen if she left the party with him. A small smile grew on her lips as her body warmed at the possibilities. She cocked her head a little and nodded. “Okay,”

Tim’s smile widened and they stepped away from the railing. “Let’s go.” His hand slipped to the small of her back, fingers fanning over the naked dip of her back. The touch sent tingles down his arm and he briefly glanced at her.

They weaved their way through the crowd. A few curious glances shot their way. Slipping out of the back entrance of the museum, they headed towards Tim’s car. Raven lightly teased him for not having a driver around (“How very un-Wayne of you.”) to which he laughed loudly while fishing for his car keys in his pocket. Raven decided he had a nice laugh.

“Any preference?” he asked while pulling on his seatbelt.

Raven settled into the passenger’s seat and shrugged. “Surprise me,”

Tim hummed thoughtfully and pulled out of the parking lot. The drive was mostly comfortably silent, with Raven just asking for the names of places they drove by.

They soon found themselves a little way out of the city center, at a small café with colorful tapestries and trinkets. The doorbell tinkled as they entered and they shared amused smiles when they earned curious stares for their full gala attire.

Raven slipped ahead of him, her hand briefly touching his elbow, and he watched as walked up to the display counter. Tim will admit that he fell back just a little bit, to admire Raven’s slow walk towards the counter in her gown. She looked absolutely stunning. He faintly wondered what he was doing with her now – and how an utterly boring evening gala turned into an evening of coffee with one of the Titan’s strongest heroes.

“Coffee, right?” Raven asked, when Tim stepped up next to her with his hands stuffed casually into his pantsuit pockets.

“Right,” he answered. He pointed at one of the Ethiopian brews and asked for a slice of cake for them to share. Raven got a cup of tea.

They shuffled their way into one of the empty corners of the café and settled next to each other. Raven looked around the café, before crossing her legs and allowing one of her hands to drop on the table while they waited for their drinks. “This is a nice place,”

Tim tried to not stare at her thigh that peeked out of the long slit of her gown as she crossed her legs. “They serve pretty good coffee,”

Raven titled her head. “Interesting turn of the night,”

Tim turned his body just a fraction of an inch closer to hers. He felt like there were a million and one ways to answer that statement, each one more dangerous than the other. He wondered if it was the right time to do so. “Better than at a stuffy gala,”

Raven smiled. “Better,”

Their orders arrived and they thanked the waitress. “Do you still see the others?” Tim asked after they each took a sip of their drinks.

“Once in a while. I saw Dick and Kory last month. And few months ago I helped them out with work,” Raven shrugged. “I stay in touch mostly with the old team. I barely know the new kids.”

Tim nodded. “So you graduate next week. And then?”

“Yeah. I might want to travel a bit and then look for a job. There are a couple of universities that offer some research posts that I’d like to try out,” Raven explained.

“Gotham University has a pretty solid history department,” Tim grinned.

Raven laughed. She propped her elbow on their table and placed her chin into her palm, sending him a teasing smile. “Are you trying to make me stay?”

Was he? He felt his insides flip again, silently amazed to see this side of a playful Raven. Perhaps he did want her to stay. She always did intrigue him. Chuckling, he fluidly leaned closer.  “Maybe?” He heard her inhale softly and his gaze briefly fell to her lips. He dropped his left arm behind her chair, trapping her between their table and his personal space. “Do you want to?”  

Raven would lie if she would say she didn’t want to. As she stared at Tim, with her emotions purring inside of her, she embraced the soft, now familiar push of his emotions. A sly smile slipped on her lips, and she stared into his eyes as she leaned away. “Maybe.”

There was a pregnant pause and they both stared at each other, knowing that they had slipped into something dangerous – but undeniably welcome.

Tim smiled, looking a little bit satisfied and he pulled out of her space. He pulled his arms back to him and picked up his coffee mug for a drink. “Good.”

They slipped into an easy conversation until they finished their drinks and polished off an excellent slice of cheesecake. Raven decided to call it a night once the barista started cleaning the display counter and they were the last customers in the café. Tim led them back outside, hand still easily sliding down to the small of her back, guiding her towards the door. Raven leaned into him slightly.

Once they settled back into his car and Tim pulled out of the driveway, he cast her curious glance. “Where are you staying?”

“At the Grand, down 5th avenue,”

“Okay,” Tim took a turn and they fell into a heavy silence. Tim glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and tapped the steering wheel thoughtfully. He wondered if he’d see Raven again.

The car stopped at an empty stoplight. Raven turned to him, feeling his emotions push against her. She smiled as he turned his head curiously. She titled her head, eyes dancing. “Do you think I could see the Wayne Library?”

Heat dropped into his stomach and Tim fully turned to her. His grip on his steering wheel tightened. Did she? He swallowed. “The Library?”

Raven laughed, leaned into his space just a little bit. “You said it had old Latin books. I’m curious.” Her purple eyes sparkled as the stoplight turned yellow.

A wide smile grew on Tim’s lips. “And it’s not too early in the evening now to invite you over?” he teased.

Raven rolled her eyes and she pulled away with a chuckle as a car behind them honked loudly. The stoplight had turned green for a while now. “No, it’s just the right time.”

Tim let out a soft laugh and quickly turned back to the road. “Okay,” he whispered, a smile on his lips as he took a turn towards Wayne Manor.

They were silent for the rest of the drive. When they arrived at the manor it was past midnight. Tim led her through the maze of hallways, silently wondering how the evening was turning out – and how it could potentially turn out. He gently took her elbow and guided her into the last room, pulling her into the giant library. He stepped away from her, mumbling he’d be right back, and turned to switch on the lights.

“Oh,” he heard Raven breathe as the library became alive with lights. He had left her in the middle of the library, standing right under the grand chandelier. She looked breathtaking, bathed in the soft yellow glow of the library in her gown. Tim had to stop and admire her – one of the many times that evening.    

“It’s beautiful.” Raven looked around her, taking in all the grand bookcases that lined the walls.

“Yeah,” Tim stared at her.

Raven paused and looked over her shoulder, catching Tim stare at her. Her heart beat against her chest. What was she doing? She smiled at him. “Where’s the Latin section?”

Tim blinked and blushed, slightly embarrassed for having been caught staring. “This way.” He led her to one of the bookcases in the other end of the library. As they walked, he smiled at her wonder. “I like spending time here when I visit the manor,”

“It’s amazing,” Raven whispered, her hands sliding over all the spines of books as they walked through the bookshelves.

“Here.” Announced Tim, making them both stop in the Latin section. He waved at the books at either side of them. “All Latin text,”

Raven smiled, stepped past him, her hand resting briefly on his bicep before touching some of the books in front of her. She pulled out one of the books and leaved through it curiously. She closed the book and pushed it back into its space on the shelf. She eyed other titles above her. She raised her hand, trying to reach one of the titles above her head. “Some of these are so hard to find.”

Tim chuckled at her excitement and watched her hand glow with her dark power and the book above them gently fell out of the self and into her waiting hands. He casually stuffed his hands into his pockets and leaned against the bookshelf, watching her leaf through the book. “Enough to make you stay?”

She stopped leafing through the book in her hands, purple eyes wide and a soft blush slowly blossomed on her cheeks. She breathed in deeply, again taking in his familiar scent of sandalwood. She closed the book and allowed it to float back to its spot above them. She smiled. “Maybe.”

They both chuckled and felt the mood between them shift. Tim pushed himself away from the bookshelf and took a cautious step towards Raven. She smiled and turned back to some of the books in front of her, but allowed Tim to crowd her space.

“Raven?”

“Hmm?”

Purple eyes looked up at him, and he felt his insides warm. Pulling his hands out of his pockets, Tim threw caution into the wind and caved into the dangerous games they had been playing for a few hours now. His warm hand held her forearm, stopping her from pulling another book out of the bookshelf next to them.

“Tim?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Raven looked up at him, his hand practically burning into her forearm. She embraced his emotions as they spilled into hers and she allowed herself to step a little closer to him. Her emotions purred.

“Yes.”

Like the trained superhero he was, his movements were swift. A long sigh escaped his lips and Tim’s hand slipped up her naked arm and held her chin, and in one fluid motion, he dipped down and his lips found hers. They were soft and warm and he drank the soft sigh that escaped her lips at the contact.

Raven felt his emotions crash heavily into her own, and she sighed at the warm contact. Her hands slid up his strong arms, one curling tightly around his bicep for balance as his (or her) emotions sent her into a blind, dizzy spell. Her right hand curled into his long hair, pulling him closer. She moaned softy at the contact and felt herself being pushed into the bookshelf.

Tim felt her body arch into his and he pushed her into the bookshelf roughly as their kiss deepened. There was no getting out of this. He felt her warm body push against his own, pulling him closer and he let his right hand slide down her back slowly, relishing the feel of soft skin. He groaned softly when she opened her lips, giving him more access. He swiped his tongue against hers and he drank her moan greedily.

Tim cradled her head as their kisses deepened. He could feel Raven’s own emotions push against him – perhaps because she was an empath and he groaned as she whispered softly his name against her lips. Taking a step closer to her, he pushed himself further onto her and relished the feel of her body against his. His lips kissed the column of her neck and both his hands slid over her tiny waist and rested dangerously close to her ass. He felt her breathe heavily against his neck as she toyed his hair.

They both wanted this.

Tim straightened slightly, his hips pushing into her own and they both sighed softly at the contact. Tim kissed the underside of her jaw and pushed himself further closer to her. “Will you stay now?”

Raven let out a breathy chuckle and both of her hands slid down his back. She slipped them underneath his black coat jacket and teasingly dipped her fingers into the back of his pants.

“Yes.”

Tim grinned against her neck, his teeth grazing against her pulse which earned him a throaty moan. With one swift motion, he bent down and picked up her left leg and pulled it around his hips. Tim pressed himself into the new warm space between her legs and they both moaned at the delicious contact.

“Good.”

#timrae #raetim #omg these smexy bb birds #i love these bb birds #TimRaeArmy #should i continue just for the smut and sexy times????? #tim drake #raven #rachel roth #teen titans

[writinginstardust]

Accidentally In Love

Pairing: Mako x reader

Request: anonymous asked “ Do you write for Lok/Atla?Maybe can you write an imagine where the reader is the daughter of Iroh (Izumi's son) and she meets Mako and they fall in love? ”

Warnings: nothing really

A/N: It’s two for one on Mako fic today 😂 I rewatched LOK much sooner than I’d originally thought, like I honestly thought I wouldn’t get to this for another couple of months but for once I suprised myself in a good way. hope you like it, it got a little longer than i’d expected it to.

Word Count: 3002

*

My life could be summed up pretty well as a long series of accidents. Some good, some bad, some neither one nor the other, all changing my life in inexplicable ways with consequences I'd never intended. I was born an accident for starters, the product of two 18-year-olds scared they might never see each other again when one left with the United Forces on a particularly dangerous assignment. 9 months later, there I was. 

I discovered I was a waterbender when I was five and accidentally knocked a candle over, managing to set the kitchen on fire. The water came to me in my moment of panic and I doused it without a second thought. Then I accidentally flooded the kitchen when I couldn't stop it and got myself sent to the southern water tribe to be trained.

It was there I met Korra although I was never supposed to. She'd slipped away and gone exploring and so had I. We bumped into each other and quickly became friends in the way kids do which somehow led to us being trained together. It also led to the rather unfortunate almost-drowning as we both pushed ourselves further than we were able to when we were 8. 

Republic City became my home again not long after that. 

There was no more life-changing accidents for a few years until I got my first boyfriend when I was 12. That didn't end well. Turns out I accidentally dated the son of one of the most elusive crime lords in the city and found out enough to help Chief Beifong take them down. 

And the accidents didn't stop coming. 

I got knocked over by Asami and her father chasing a dog across the road. That got me a new best friend. I almost got myself expelled from school by turning the gym into an ice rink and getting half the student body to cut class. That got me a ton of new friends, many of whom turned out to be bad influences. Thanks to them I got caught fighting in the street and only avoided punishment by Beifong at my dad's intervention. That's what landed me under constant supervision training in the United Forces and what finally let me redeem myself by saving everyone on my warship during an attack. 

At 16 I became an officer, serving under my own father - the great General Iroh - and it's as odd as you'd imagine. I might have asked for a different assignment were it not considered such a great honour, especially for someone as young as I was at the time. It meant I got to spend more time with my dad at least, even if he was shouting orders much of the time. That wasn't something I'd had the luxury of growing up.

A few months ago I'd helped Korra and her friends defeat Amon and the equalists and met Mako. That changed everything for me yet again. I'd gone with him and Korra when the team split up and accidentally developed a bit of a crush as we worked together. So obviously I had to stay in Republic City after all that.

Beifong hired me without question when I asked and I ended up working alongside Mako. A lot. It should be no surprise that my next accident was a big one. I fell in love.

Who knows if he felt the same though.

We were grabbing dinner after a long day at work, both of us too tired to actually talk as we ate. I was watching him intently though. I did that a lot. 

It was one of those rare occasions when he wasn't frowning even a little. He was like that when he was tired enough. The harsh angles of his face softened and the seemingly constant worry in his eyes eased. It was my favourite time to be with him. 

He was more honest in those moments, more willing to open up about himself and his feelings. He was more willing to do that generally as of late actually. I wondered what new information I'd glean tonight.

"Hellooo," he dragged the word out, "You listening, (Y/N)?" Crap. I wasn't. I didn't even realise he'd started talking.

"Hmm?" I made sure to pay attention to what he was saying this time.

"I said, Beifong is letting me have the evening off for the Future Industries relaunch party in a few days-"

"Wait, there's a party ?"

"More like a gala but yeah, I thought you knew. Asami sent an invite." He frowned. I wish he wouldn't.

"I forgot to send her my new address."

He shook his head fondly and a small smile slipped onto his face. "Of course you did."

"Hey! I'm not normally that forgetful." He levelled me with a disbelieving look. "Okay fine, maybe I am. So what about the party?"

"Are you working Friday night?" I shook my head. "Good. Because I was going to ask…" He looked nervous and, dare I say it, a bit flustered. "Would you like to go...to the party...with me?"

It took a minute to compute that, it was the last thing I'd expected to hear. I watched as the hopeful smile that he'd been wearing slowly slid from his face as he mistook my silence.

"I'd love to," I finally blurted out.

"Really?"

"Yeah. It'll be fun." Our waiter came over and we quickly paid the bill and stood to leave.

"So, I'll come pick you up at 7?" 

"Sounds great." 

"I'll see you Friday then."

"See you Friday." I couldn't wait. He hugged me goodbye quickly and we went our separate ways home. It wasn't until I was getting changed for bed that I realised I hadn't asked one incredibly vital question. I hadn't asked if it was a date.

*

I radioed Asami in a panic the next morning and she dropped everything to come over and see me.

"So what did he say exactly?" She asked as I set a tray of tea down on the coffee table.

"He just asked if I wanted to go with him."

"Did he seem nervous?"

"A little I guess."

"Well then my guess is date."

"But he didn't do anything else to suggest it was. And maybe he was just worried I'd think he was asking me on a date and not as a friend."

"This is Mako so you might have a point there." She stirred her tea thoughtfully for a minute before looking up at me suddenly. I could practically see the lightbulb above her head.

"Okay so we don't know if it's a date but you want it to be, right?" I nodded and took a sip of my drink. "Well, in that case we need to go shopping." 

I looked at her quizzically. "Shopping? I have clothes from the last party."

"Yes shopping. If we get you the right outfit we could easily turn 'friends hanging out' into an actual date. And if it's already a date, a great outfit can't hurt."

"You really think a good outfit can do that?"

"I know a good outfit can do that."

"Okay. Let's go shopping then."

*

"Bolin, I need your help." I didn't bother knocking and walked straight into my brother's apartment. 

"Mako! It's great to see you bro! You gotta learn to knock first though."

"You should stop leaving your door unlocked and then maybe I would."

"Solid point. What can I do for you?"

"I have a date with (Y/N)."

"Well finally! You've been going on about her for months."

"I haven't- you're right, I have a bit." I flopped onto his couch and he took a seat beside me.

"Nice to see you admit it. So you've got a date, what's the problem?"

"I'm not sure she knows it's a date." He frowned.

"What do you mean? How could she not know it's a date?" I explained quickly and Bolin had his head in his hands by the time I was finished. "And you say you're the ladies man of this family."

"This is different. (Y/N) is different."

"Not a good enough excuse but we can salvage this."

"Okay, how?"

"First I'll say, from what you've told me she may well think it's a date." I breathed a sigh of relief. I hadn't completely messed up. "But we don't know that for sure so you've got to be observant. Look for signs of attraction, flirt a little, see how she reacts, you know the drill."

"That wasn't as helpful as i'm sure you thought it was."

"Wasn't meant to be."

"What?" I sat up and glared at him.

"You're an idiot. (Y/N) likes you, has for ages."

"How do you know?" He rolled his eyes with an exasperated sigh.

"Aside from it being obvious every time she looks at you? I'm her friend, I know things."

"She's better friends with me than you."

"That hurts bro."

"Bo-"

"Fine! Asami told me. But I knew anyway!"

"I've got to go." I stood abruptly and Bolin shot me a confused look as he got up too.

"What? Why?"

"Need to go shopping." I glanced at my watch quickly and cursed. "Actually I need to go to work. I'll see you later Bo."

"Bye!" He called out but I was already out the door. I'd be late if I didn't hurry and Beifong would probably make me work on Friday if I was. At least the conversation was worth it. At least now I knew she liked me.

*

Friday. 6:50. I was trying not to be sick. Nerves were getting the better of me. Honestly I'd feel so much better if I just knew what this was. Although, if it was a date for sure, I'd probably be hunched over the toilet by now so maybe this was just a little bit better.

I finished applying my makeup the way Asami had taught me and fixed my hair a little before sliding on my new dress. A dress I never could have afforded myself. Asami insisted though.

There was a knock at my door and I startled as I looked at the time. It was seven and the last 10 minutes had somehow gone in a snap. I rushed to find my shoes, yelling to Mako to come in as I did. The door clicked shut and he yelled out a greeting as I finally located the shoes under my bed.

"Sorry, I'll be out in just a minute," I called back and hastened to finish getting ready. I checked how I looked once more, tucking back a stray hair, and took a deep breath before stepping out into the living room. I could do this. It might not even be a date, I reminded myself again.

"Hey, (Y/-" he cut himself off and I was instantly worried. Well as worried as I could feel past the block in my brain that was screaming over how good he looked.

"Hey Mako," I smiled self-consciously and fiddled with my dress. He recovered himself at the sound of my voice and stood from my couch.

"Hey, (Y/N)." I bit back a grin.

"You already said that."

"Oh, right...uh, you ready to go?" I nodded and we left my apartment, walking down the stairs in an only slightly awkward silence.

"Woah! Nice wheels. Where'd you get that?" I was shocked when I saw the car he led me to. It was way too fancy to afford on our salary.

"Asami let me borrow it. Insisted I did actually. She said we should show up in style."

"She's not wrong. Let's go then." The drive was short and thankfully less awkward than the walk down. Whatever weird tension had been in my apartment - probably my fault - had dissipated and we chatted like we usually did.

We arrived at the party slightly late and the venue was already packed. A valet took the car keys from Mako and he offered me his hand as we walked up the steps together. A few photographers took pictures and the nerves from earlier started coming back. People knew who we were. People were going to talk, the papers speculate. What were they going to assume about us? And more importantly, would they be right?

I tripped on the last step, falling into Mako's arms as he moved to catch me automatically. His face was too close to mine and I struggled to breathe. Heat flared in my cheeks as I scrambled to get my footing back and pull out of his embrace. He shot me a concerned look but I just shrugged it off with a small smile and continued inside, tugging him along with me. I almost wished I hadn't when we entered and people turned to look.

The first hour was a bit off a mess. I mixed up people's names, spilled a few drinks, almost knocked over a table full of cakes, and tripped over just about everything. Eventually we ended up talking to Bolin and Asami. I excused myself to the bathroom with a pointed look to Asami. She got the hint and came with me.

"Are you okay?" She asked as the door shut behind us.

"Not even a little bit. I'm freaking out and I keep messing things up and I'm so nervous I think I might be sick and I still don't know if this is a date and if it is I'm on my way to making it the worst date ever and I know this is ridiculous because it's just Mako and he's one of my best friends so this shouldn't be awkward but I love him and he looks so good tonight and it's making me want to kiss him but I can't because I still don't know if he likes me too but I really want him to and I just think I'm going to ruin everything somehow-" the words kept tumbling out in a jumbled mess as I slowly got more hysterical and Asami finally had to cut me off.

"Breathe. Just breathe." She held my shoulders and took deep breaths herself for me to follow. I felt myself beginning to calm down. "Just keep breathing. You're fine, okay? You're not messing anything up. I've been watching you two since you got here and Mako definitely likes you too."

"How do you know?" I asked in a small voice

"It's obvious to everyone here. Honestly, if you could see the way he looks at you, you'd understand."

"You're sure?"

"Yes. Now go out there and get him."

"Okay."

*

"Am I messing this up?" I asked Bolin when the girls disappeared off to the bathroom. "(Y/N) seems so uncomfortable. Are you sure she actually likes me."

"I'm sure bro. If anything this proves it."

"How?"

"She's nervous, Mako. She likes you and you know that but I don't think she knows that you like her."

"Oh. Oh."

"Now you get it. She's hoping it's a date but she's not sure and she obviously doesn't want to mess anything up which is making her nervous and awkward."

"How in the world could you know that?"

"I'm very smart and observant." I gave him a pointed look. "Fine! Asami told me again. You know it hurts you don't think I could figure it out myself." 

"You'll live." I patted him on the shoulder and he rolled his eyes before glancing behind me.

"Watch out, they're coming back."

*

"Well, it was good to catch up with you guys. I'll see you a bit later but I've got more guests to talk to now. Bolin?" He looked over at Asami. "You mind coming with me?"

"Of course."

"Enjoy the party you two." Asami hugged me then. "Good luck," she whispered in my ear before letting go and heading off with Bolin. I watched them leave, still slightly nervous to face Mako again. He cleared his throat and I turned my head.

"Would you like to dance?" Breathe, I told myself, you can do this.

"Sure." I took his hand and he led me to the middle of the room. The song playing was slow, thankfully since I wasn't a great dancer. I knew the steps and where to put my hands at least. His hand settled on my waist and electricity raced through me. I swallowed hard to control my nerves, trying not to get distracted by the warmth that spread from every point of contact as we started to dance. I was lost in him for a while and the silence went on. Finally it was broken.

"(Y/N)-"

"Mako-" we both spoke at the same time and I grinned at how ridiculous this all was.

"You go first," he said.

"Okay. I need to ask, I can't stand not knowing anymore, is this a date?" 

"Yes."

"Okay." Okay? Why was that all I said?

"Are you alright with it being a date?" He looked a little worried. Unsurprising since all I said was okay. I wanted to smack myself for being such an idiot.

"Yes."

"Okay." A few seconds passed in silence again.

"So...does that mean you like me the way I like you?" I asked finally.

"That depends. Can I kiss you?"

"Please." And he did. 

His lips were soft against mine, softer than I'd imagined actually, and the kiss was unhurried. He pulled me closer and I leaned into his body, letting his familiar warmth and comfort permeate my skin. It didn't last long but we stayed close when our lips parted.

"So is that a yes?" I whispered.

"I think it's a yes." He smiled and pulled me into another kiss. It occurred to me that people were watching and we'd probably have to suffer through the ordeal of it being in the papers but I found I didn't care all that much. Getting to finally kiss the guy I'd fallen in love with was more than worth it.

*

Tag Lists: (send an ask if you want to be added!)

Everything: @wonderfilledness

#mako #mako x reader #mako imagine #mako fanfic #mako x you #avatar #avatar fanfic #avatar imagine #lok fanfic #lok imagine #lok #reader insert

[that-yandere-life]

I know I’m super late on requests and I’m so sorry but I’ve been waiting so long for you to open your requests again and when you did I was grounded so if it’s not too late could I have 10,13, and 19 for Loki and maybe Wanda if you can but if it’s too much then just Loki Thank you and I love your writing so much!

Prompt #10: “Jealousy is cute, don’t you think?”

Prompt #13: “You love me the most, right?”

Prompt #19: “Your happiness, your tears, your love, your hate – all of it belongs to me.”

Loki Laufeyson-

Loki had been looking all over the place for you and when he finally found you he was enraged by the sight before him. There you were sitting in Thor’s lap while he was no doubt telling you tales of their childhood, making you laugh hysterically. Thor always found a way to embarrass him and he was absolutely sure that is what he was doing right now. Of course there was also the fact that anyone that ever met him became enamored with him, and there was no way Loki wanted that to happen this time.

Walking over toward the two of you, you smiled widely at the sight of him, hopping off Thor running over and giving him a chaste kiss on the lips. What shocked you was Loki grabbing your arm pulling you along after him not even uttering a word. “Loki, what’s wrong?”You asked feeling his grip tighten on you almost painfully.

“You love me the most, right?”Loki asked stopping to look at you in the eye to make sure you weren’t lying to him.

“What? You know I love you more than anything, I moved here to be with you after all. Away from my friends and family only seeing them on rare occasions. How can you ask that?”You inquired sadly taken aback by his erratic state.

“You were sitting on my brother laughing the day away, I just assumed you like everyone would prefer him over me.”Loki admitted turning his focus to the ground feeling slightly guilty an emotion he was readily used to. “It’s been that way my entire life, even with my parents.”He added softly.

“Loki, you are the only one for me. Thor was simply telling me about the time you turned into a snake and then stabbed him when you transformed back. I was laughing because I was picturing you doing it, it was amusing to me. So even still I was thinking of you, my love.”You replied placing your palm on his chin making him look into your eyes once again.

“Uh...jealousy is cute, don’t you think?”Loki asked with a small smile growing on his features. “I mean it really just means that I care that much about you that I would go to such lengths… right?” He chuckled awkwardly feeling a blush start to burn into his cheeks.

“Of course my love, that is what it means.”You responded biting your lower lip to keep from laughing. “Don’t worry I only have eyes for you, and maybe tiny cute little snake you.”You giggled unable to help yourself.

“Just remember, your happiness, your tears, your love, your hate – all of it belongs to me. Plus I have a different kind of snake reserved just for you.”Loki laughed with a cocky smirk growing widely.

“Did you… did you just make a penis joke?”You asked in disbelief now holding your stomach you were laughing so hard. “I can’t believe you just did that!”You howled falling to the floor rolling around.

“See only I can make you laugh that hard, not that dimwitted oaf brother of mine.”Loki proudly stated crossing his arms over his chest, trying not to burst out laughing himself. “But I am glad that I affect you so.”He sighed happily leaning down offering his hand to you so he could help you off the ground. “You are most beautiful when you are smiling I must admit.”He added kissing your hand as you placed it in his. “And mine for all of eternity.”

Wanda Maximoff-

Wanda was tapping her foot looking at her watch for the fifth time in ten minutes wondering where you might be. When you had spoken earlier you agreed to meet up so that you could go shopping for dresses. One of Tony’s charity gala’s was that weekend and neither of you had anything nice enough to wear for it. That was when she heard you squealing as Clint carried you on his shoulders a nerf gun in your hand, chasing after Sam and Bucky who were also armed.

“Excuse me!”Wanda yelled out gaining your attention immediately, causing you to hop down and rush over to her.

“Hey Wands! What’s up?”You asked cheerfully not suspecting that anything was wrong.

“We are supposed to go shopping together remember?”She asked with a clear annoyed tone. “Happy has been waiting downstairs for almost twenty minutes waiting on us.”She added sighing softly.

“Oops I’m so sorry I forgot, sorry guys go on and play without me! My lovely girlfriend and I have to go get outfits for that thing this weekend!”You called back before returning your attention to her. “I’m all ready to go, I’m sorry I made you wait on me!”You replied feeling guilty that you upset her.

“Forget it, let’s just go.”Wanda sighed again acting like she shook it off. Heading out and getting into the car it was a rather silent ride letting you know she was still miffed at you however. Of course you wanted to make it better but you had no idea what would accomplish that. Watching her she was just looking out the window, exhaling forcefully every once in a while. This meant she was obviously in her own head about the situation.

“What are you thinking about?”You asked trying to act nonchalant to see if she would actually tell you, or if you should start bringing it out of her.

“You love me the most, right?”Wanda replied turning to look at you in the eye, tears running down her face unexpectedly.

“Oh Wanda, I love you more than I have ever loved anyone. I’ve never had a family to call my own, but you captured my heart and now I have more than I could have ever asked for. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like anything less than that.”You responded leaning in wiping her tears away with the pad of your thumb.

“I know I am probably being silly, but I got jealous that you were having so much fun with the others that you forgot our outing. But uh jealousy is cute, don’t you think?”Wanda asked giggling a little tucking both sides of her hair behind her ears.

“I think you are cute, but I also think that a little jealousy is healthy. It means you care enough about me not to lose me. Not that I am ever going to leave, you are stuck with me!”You responded leaning in to kiss her cheek cutely.

“Your happiness, your tears, your love, your hate – all of it belongs to me. But I wouldn’t have it any other way you know… you mean the absolute world to me. I overreacted, I’m sorry.”Wanda admitted sheepishly her expression slightly twisted into a grimace.

“It’s alright darling, I should have remembered and paid attention to the time. You had a right to be a little annoyed with me. However please don’t doubt my feelings, those will never change.”You smiled pulling her into a side hug as you pulled up to the store. “Now let’s go feel pretty together!”You cheered squeezing her into you, earning a light giggle from your amazing girlfriend.

[Thank you so so much for the request, I hope it is what you were wanting! I managed to do both just for you!

#yandere marvel #marvel yandere #loki laufeyson x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #yandere loki laufeyson #yandere wanda maximoff #500 follower blurb #Anonymous

[esytes69]

Hollywood Biggest Celebrity Scandal

Tim Allen arrested for dealing cocaine, 1978 Before he became everyone’s favorite Santa Clause (or the handy tool man, or Buzz Lightyear), Tim Allen was caught dealing drugs—specifically cocaine. He was arrested for possession of nearly a pound-and-a-half of cocaine at the Kalamazoo/Battle Creek International airport in Michigan in 1978. He spent 28 months in a federal prison, as opposed to a life sentence, for giving up the names of other drug offenders.

Marvin Gaye murdered by his father, 1984 The soul singer of the 80s, known as the Prince of Motown, was shot and killed by his father, Rev. Marvin Gay Sr. after an altercation. (Note: The "e" was added to the singer's stage name.) Gaye's brother Frankie, reportedly held him in his final moments. In his memoir, Frankie wrote that his brother's last words were, "I got what I wanted…I couldn’t do it myself, so I made him do it."

Rob Lowe made a sex tape with a 16-year-old, 1988 A video of the then-24-year-old Parks and Rec star having sex with two women was reportedly recorded the night before the 1988 Democratic National Convention in Atlanta. (Side note: Lowe was largely into politics before his acting career took off.) When it surfaced, it was discovered that one of the girls was only 16 years old. Her mother slapped him with a civil lawsuit, and he ended up settling, paying her a large sum of money and doing 20 hours of community service.

Michael Jackson accused of sexual assault, 1993 In 1993, Michael Jackson was accused of sexually assaulting a 13-year-old boy named Jordan Chandler. After the accusations went public, Jackson cancelled his tour due to health issues from the scandal. He later settled the case, paying the Chandlers $23,000.

O.J. Simpson arrested for the murder of his wife, 1994 Football star O.J. Simpson was arrested for the murder of his ex-wife Nicole Brown Simpson and her friend, Ronald Goldman, following a now-iconic car chase through Los Angeles. After 15 months in jail, Simpson was famously acquitted of both counts, thanks in part to his lawyer's "if the glove doesn't fit, you must acquit" line. In 2008, 13 years later, Simpson was convicted of robbery and kidnapping for a separate incident.

Hugh Grant caught with a prostitute, 1995 In 1995, Hugh Grant paid a sex worker to give him a blow job on the Sunset Strip but the two were found by police and the Four Weddings and a Funeral actor was arrested for "lewd conduct" in a public place. At the time of his arrest, he was with his longtime girlfriend Elizabeth Hurley, who tried to work through the incident. She ended up leaving Grant five years later.

Prince Charles and Princess Diana divorce, 1996 After years of marital strain and four years of separation, Prince Charles and Princess Diana formally divorced in August of 1996. Their marriage was tainted by controversy, especially at the end, with both sides cheating—Charles most famously with long-time love and now-wife, Camilla Parker Bowels. As the future King of England, Charles' status as a divorcee is particularly scandalous.

Princess Diana killed in a car accident, 1997 Less than a year after she and Prince Charles got divorced, Princess Diana was killed in a car accident in Paris after being chased by paparazzi—and it was rumored that the future king planned her death. Later a letter from the princess to her former butler was discovered. In it she wrote that she felt Charles was setting up an incident so he could marry Tiggy, the former nanny of Princes William and Harry, but many believe the note was forged and an inquest concluded in 2008 found no wrongdoing on the part of the royal family.

Bill Clinton's affair with Monica Lewinsky made public, 1998 In 1995, former President Bill Clinton began having an affair with a then-21-year-old Monica Lewinsky, who was an unpaid White House intern. The huge scandal was made public in 1998, and Clinton denied that he had "sexual relations" with Lewinsky. He later admitted that he did have an affair with her, which contributed to his impeachment in 1999.

Marilyn Manson's music blamed for the Columbine shooting, 1999 After one of the deadliest schools shootings—in which two seniors murdered 12 students and one teacher at Columbine High School—people pointed the finger at musician Marilyn Manson. It was thought that the two students loved Manson and his music, and it was said that the singer's songs inspired them to carry out the tragic act. The rumor was proven false, but Manson's reputation was hurt badly from the reports.

Winona Ryder arrested for shoplifting, 2001 In 2001, the Stranger Things actress was caught stealing over $5,560 worth of merchandise from a Saks Fifth Avenue in Beverly Hills, California. She reportedly ripped tags off of clothing items and stashed them in her bag. Ryder later spun the incident positively, telling Daily Mail, "In a weird way, it was almost like the best thing that could have happened, because I’d never asked myself the question before of, Is it okay if I’m not going to act? Is there anything else? because that was all that I really knew."

R. Kelly arrested for child pornography, 2002 R. Kelly was indicted on 21 counts of child pornography after a tape showing him having sex with and urinating on an underage woman was sent to the Chicago Sun Times. He plead not guilty to all charges. Since, dozens of women have claimed to have been held in a sex cult by the singer. The hashtag #MuteRKelly started spreading recently, and Spotify was the first company to actually take action.

Madonna and Britney Spears kissed on stage, 2003 During a 2003 MTV Video Music Award performance, Britney Spears and Madonna shocked everyone when they kissed on stage. Christina Aguilera was performing with them, too, and got a smooch from Madonna, but the cameras switched shots and their kiss wasn't televised. Videographers instead cut to a shot of Justin Timberlake's shocked face.

Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston announced their divorce, 2005 In January 2005, Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston made a shocking joint statement that revealed they were breaking up. "We would like to announce that after seven years together we have decided to formally separate. For those who follow these sorts of things, we would like to explain that our separation is not the result of any of the speculation reported by the tabloid media," they said in the statement. "This decision is the result of much thoughtful consideration," the statement continued. "We happily remain committed and caring friends with great love and admiration for one another. We ask in advance for your kindness and sensitivity in the coming months." It was thought that their divorce was the result of the scandalous affair Pitt had with Angelina Jolie while filming the movie Mr. and Mrs. Smith.

Britney Spears shaved her head, 2007 Also in 2007: Britney Spears shaved off all her hair. The "Oops I Did It Again" singer hit rock bottom, beating up a photographer's car with an umbrella just days after going at her head with a buzz cutter. That year was a rough year for Spears, and it started the famous meme: "If Britney Spears can make it through 2007, then I can make it through today."

Kim Kardashian's sex tape made public, 2007 Before she was married to Kanye West, Kim Kardashian was in a serious relationship with another singer: Willie "Ray J" Norwood. The couple reportedly filmed a sex tape back in 2002 during a trip to Cabo, Mexico, and it was released to the public five years later when Kim began getting more media attention for being friends with Paris Hilton (who also has a sex tape). Kim sued in an attempt to prevent the 41-minute film from being accessible, but it still found its way to the internet.

Heath Ledger found dead, 2008 In 2008, the 10 Things I Hate About You actor was found dead in his bed in New York city. The NYC Medical Examiner's Office later determined that the cause of death was an accidental overdose of prescription painkillers, including anti-anxiety meds and sleeping pills. The Dark Knight, starring Ledger as the Joker, was released that summer in theaters, and his performance won him a posthumous Oscar.

Chris Brown assaulted Rihanna, 2009 Back in 2009, Chris Brown beat up then-girlfriend Rihanna after she discovered a text message from one of Brown's former flames. The "Forever" singer reportedly punched her in the face, repeatedly bit her, and choked her, but not to the point of unconsciousness. In a 20/20 interview, Rihanna opened up about the incident. "It was ugly," she said. "I fended him off with my feet…but it was not like, it was not like a fight with each other. I just…I really just wanted it to stop."

Michael Jackson killed, 2009 Michael Jackson was found dead on June 25, 2009. The cause? Surgical anesthetic Propofol, which was given to him by his personal doctor, Conrad Murray. Murray claimed to be injecting the King of Pop with the drug as a treatment for his insomnia. Jackson's death was ruled a homicide, and Murray blamed for negligent monitoring. He spent two years in jail for involuntary manslaughter.

Whitney Houston found dead in a bathtub, 2012 The world was shocked when Whitney Houston was found dead in a bathtub at the Beverly Hilton Hotel in 2012. An autopsy revealed that the singer died from accidental drowning. Her body was found with numerous drugs in it, including cocaine, marijuana, Xanax, and Benadryl. Houston had heart disease, so it is thought that the disease mixed with cocaine contributed to her death.

Solange Knowles gets into elevator fight with Jay Z, 2014 Following the 2014 Met Gala, leaked surveillance video captured Solange Knowles physically fighting her brother-in-law Jay Z in an elevator at the Standard Hotel in New York City. Although there was no shortage of speculation on the internet, the Carter-Knowles family gave little information as to what actually went down. “They both acknowledge their role in this private matter that has played out in the public. They both have apologized to each other and we have moved forward as a united family,” they said in a statement given to the Associated Press. Although the family has remained incredibly mum’s the word on the situation, Jay Z broke his silence in 2017 to share that he and Solange truly have moved on. "We had one disagreement ever. Before and after, we've been cool. She's like my sister. I will protect her. That's my sister, not my sister-in-law. My sister. Period,” he said during an appearance on Rap Radar.

30 Kanye West, Kim Kardashian, and Taylor Swift feud over "Famous" lyrics, 2016 Kanye’s infamous “I’mma let you finish” at the 2008 Video Music Awards turned out to only be the beginning of his beef with Taylor Swift. In 2016, Kanye released the song “Famous” on his The Life of Pablo album, which explicitly mentions Swift in the opening: “I feel like me and Taylor might still have sex/Why? I made that bitch famous/Goddamn, I made that bitch famous.” Although Swift claimed she didn’t know about the song, Kim Kardashian decided to interject on her husband’s behalf. In a series of Snapchats, Kardashian leaked a recorded phone call between Kanye and Swift—Kanye shares a clip of the song for Swift’s approval, and the singer is heard saying, “Yeah, I mean, what's dope about the line is it's very tongue in cheek either way. And I really appreciate you telling me about it, that's really nice.” Swift’s response to the Snapchats? The singer claimed Kanye never shared the most offensive part of the lyrics with her. “Where is the video of Kanye telling me he was going to call me ‘that bitch’ in his song? It doesn’t exist because it never happened. You don’t get to control someone’s emotional response to being called ‘that bitch’ in front of the entire world,” she wrote on Instagram. To this day, the feud still remains a case of he-said-she-said.

Harvey Weinstein accused of sexual assault, 2017 On October 5, 2017, Ashley Judd accused longtime movie mogul Harvey Weinstein of sexual harassment—a bombshell accusation that led to the historical Time's Up and #MeToo movements. Since the first allegations, a number of other actresses have come forward with their stories of being sexually harassed or assaulted by Weinstein. After eight months, he finally turned himself in to police in New York City.

20-year-old Kylie Jenner quietly gives birth to first child, 2018 After months of speculation, an uncharacteristically quiet Kylie Jenner took to Instagram to share that she had given birth to a baby girl on February 1. Although news of her reported pregnancy with boyfriend Travis Scott leaked in September 2017, the reality star chose to stay quiet through all nine months, never confirming the news. “I’m sorry for keeping you in the dark through all the assumptions. I understand you’re used to me bringing you along on all my journeys. My pregnancy was one I chose not to do in front of the world,” she wrote in an Instagram post announcing the news. The 20-year-old also released a home video, “To Our Daughter,” that gave fans a peek at her hidden pregnancy.

Princess Diana's phone calls with her lover, James Gilbey, released, 1992 In 1992 The Sun leaked a transcript of Princess Diana's secret phone calls with her lover, James Gilbey. Diana was still married to Prince Charles at the time, who was also reportedly having an affair of his own with now-wife Camila Parker-Bowles. Read the full article

#billclinton #bradpitt #britneyspears #heathledger #hollywoodcontroversies #jayz #jenniferaniston #kanyewest #kimkardashian #kyliejenner #maddona #michaeljackson #princecharles #princessdiana #rihanna #spotify #taylorswift #Timallen #whitneyhouston

[kariachi]

Some more Levinstar. Fight me.

~~

Mike’s life was going fairly well, if he did say so himself. He was wrenching a successful acting career essentially out of the aether with naught but skill, good looks, and his own riches. One of his best friends was a member of the Elite Four. The other was a big name in tech circles around the globe. Young mutants everywhere looked at him as an idol. His pokemon were healthy and vibrant enough to feature in magazines across the region. Yes, he and Elena’s elementary school ‘if neither of us are married by thirty’ agreement was looking more and more likely to be followed through on, but really in the end life was good. Very good.

Which is why he was kicking himself about his inability to just cross a fucking room and-

“Mike, if you don’t go talk to him I will.”

“Fuck off, I saw him first.”

Galas were essentially Mike’s lifeblood. He could schmooze and socialize with the best of them, a master of social maneuvering before he’d even started his pokemon journey. But tonight he’d found himself hopelessly distracted, enough so that Elena had been forced to rescue him before he made of fool of himself in front of somebody important. So there they were, stood at the edge of the room with glasses of champagne Mike’s service Delcatty was very cross at him about. But what could you do, when nobody ever planned for non-drinkers at these things and you were stuck staring at a very handsome man from the other side of the crowd.

“I can’t believe you’re too nervous to go talk to somebody. You flirt like attention is air!”

“I am not nervous, I just… am waiting for the right moment.”

Kevin fucking Levin was at this event. Mike had three of his books at home. Two of his sculptures. He was, at that moment, wearing a Xerneas brooch on his scarf that had been designed and handmade by the very bastard. What did you say in that circumstance? He couldn’t pretend to be unfamiliar with the man’s work, he was wearing it and the people who came to events like this knew everything about what they wore, but he didn’t want to risk coming across as some obsessed fan, no matter what the evidence might say. Normally if he met someone he was a fan of at these events it was other people in film and media, and he could use work as an icebreaker. If they were trainers he could turn to Elena for an introduction, which made things easier. It was only a good impression he wanted to make, there wasn’t really any pressure, but here, with Kevin…

He’d seen the man and his insides had done things that hadn’t since he was a teenager.

Across the room, the artist broke away from the little group he’d been talking with a smile, beelining for an empty spot near a far wall.

“Now’s your chance, he’s alone and unprotected!” As subtly as she could- they were at a formal event- Elena began shoving Mike in his direction.

“Hey!”

“I don’t want to have to marry your flat ass, move!”

Sending a glare over his shoulder at her, Mike did as instructed, weaving around the crowd toward what was, if he was quite honest, the most handsome man he hadn’t met yet. There was only a brief pause in his forward momentum, a stop by a decorative mirror to fix his hair and clothes, check his makeup. Perfection was required for these events, yes, but something like this called for an entirely new level of it. He didn’t just want to make a good impression, he wanted to dazzle. To that effect he also took the time to check Elissa for any out of place fur or loose threads in her vest.

Perfection.

Kevin was stood with his back to the crowd, fingers buried in his service Espeon’s fur as he inspected one of the sculptures on display. It wasn’t fair, no man should’ve had arms like that. Or a jawline like that. Or cheekbones like that. If Mike hadn’t been so into it he’d have had to kill him for daring to look so good. As it was it was surprisingly difficult not to reach right out and touch him. With an easing breath Mike slipped casually into place behind him, pulling out his most charming smile.

“What do you think, was it worth what they paid for it?” There was no sign of surprise when Kevin turned- people with Espeon were rarely surprised by anything- and holy shit his eyes were even browner in person. How was that allowed? At least there was a bit of a victory to be gained as Mike’s heart lodged itself in his throat, the other man going pink as soon as he saw him.

“I don’t think so,” he said, “but then abstract has never been my style.” He glanced back at Mike, going a shade darker, and the blond silently cheered what he was going to call a success. “Nice brooch.” Fuck.

“Thank you,” he said as if he wasn’t worried about coming off too big a fan, “was made by a very talented artist.” Kevin shrugged.

“Couldn’t get quite the colors I wanted,” he said.

“It’s perfect,” Mike replied almost before the other’s sentence was done. Kevin took a deep breath, rolling his shoulders as the color began fading from his face, then turned to face him completely with a smile that could’ve melted butter.

“So, Mike Morningstar.” He knew his name. This wasn’t surprising- he was a famous actor for fucks’ sake- but it still set his heart jumping.

“Kevin Levin.” And the man went pink again, at least this time he stayed looking at him.

“You know,” he said, “I’ve been watching your movies since I was yea big.” He put his hand as a spot just below his waist. Mike chuckled.

“Give I’ve been making them since I was that size, it’s quite a compliment.” Kevin shrugged again, still with that damn smile.

“You’re good, and most of your films are up my alley. Especially since you stopped being the bad guy.” That had been part of what had him using his own riches- if he was the one funding the movies then nobody could try to shoehorn him in as a villain, or brush off his auditions with excuses that barely hid the actual ‘there’s no place for chompers like yours in this’ reasons. Besides, it meant he could get more mutants involved, as much out of spite as anything.

“I try.” He considered and discarded several directions to take this conversation. “I don’t think I’ve seen you at one of these events before?” He knew he hadn’t, he’d have noticed, but if he said that it might come off creepy.

“Everyone kept telling me to come to one of these and network,” Kevin groaned, throwing an exaggeratedly put-upon look Mike’s way. “It’s not really my thing. I like my workday chill and my parties loud, ya know?” Mike didn’t know. He could make any social gathering work, but this was his native habitat, and work for him was hustle and bustle and at least one case per film of someone threatening to quit over something inane. (The last one had involved one of his costars sneezing on a camera and the man behind it, already stressed by a long day, late dinner, and impending wedding, throwing up his arms and swearing he was abandoning the industry entirely. He’d come back, but Mike had still made sure he had the week until the wedding off alongside the time he was already taking for his honeymoon.)

He didn’t necessarily understand it, but he knew the area, as well as an opening when he saw one.

“Well,” he said, inching just a bit closer and internally preening when Kevin looked him over instead of moving away, “if you’d rather, I know a few bars around here where we wouldn’t get too many strange looks for showing up in formalwear.” The smile that crept onto Kevin’s face was sharper this time, more purposeful. This time he was the one in motion, scooting just close enough for his hand to brush against Mike’s.

“Do you now,” he replied. “Ya know I haven’t really gotten to explore around here before, I would love to get the tour.”

Yessss.

“Well then-” Mike put out his arm, actively preening when Kevin took it with an appreciative look and a flash of teeth. “-let’s get you someplace less stuffy, hm?” It wasn’t too early to go, nobody would even miss them. Well, the paparazzi might, but he got gossiped about constantly anyway, and Kevin was very attractive with those coffee dark eyes, so… Fuck it.

“Lead the way, Mr. Morningstar.”

It didn’t take them long to reach the exit, especially as they skirted the crowd, evading the people already too drunk to respect their pokemon were working and saying goodbye to enough people that there wouldn’t be excess talk. Given the way Kevin bristled when people approached his Espeon, Mike was glad he was getting him out then, before he could make a scene and cause himself trouble. He lead him quickly past those sorts, throwing a wink at a grinning Elena before he slipped them out the back doors.

If he played his cards right, his life was about to get a whole notch better.

#fanfic #levinstar

[super-cerulean]

Beautiful Liar

Part One/Part Two

I hope you guys enjoy this story because it's a fun change of pace from what I normally write. This idea gets more positive later on, I promise 😂

Summary: An expensive taste and a knack for stealing hearts led you to a gala full of Gotham’s richest socialites. Your next target would be the Wayne family, but you weren’t sure just which one to go for. If you pulled it off, it had the potential to be your biggest score yet. All you had to do was play your cards right.

Warnings: Language, kind of dark, major themes of manipulation

Contrary to what most people assumed, your romantic partners weren't your only source of income. They certainly helped keep your wardrobe up to date, but you didn't rely on them for paying bills or anything too important. It was a hobby after all. Your actual job paid well and allowed you to move cities at your own discretion. You had a knack for fashion, especially when it came to your own closet, so it only made sense that you were an amazing stylist. It was hard at first getting your name out there, but eventually you were able to get jobs working on plenty of photoshoots, tv shows and even a few indie movies. Being someone who worked behind the scenes, your name and face weren't well known unless someone was in need of your services. That made your "hobby" a lot easier. Normally, you kept your work life and your private life completely independent of one another, even going as far as to lie about where you worked to keep your anyone you were talking to from interfering. The day Jason Todd showed up at your job was the day you realized that this scheme would be different than the others, for better or for worse.

It had to have been around a week after you met him at the gala. For the time being you busied yourself with work around Gotham and getting to know the city. The rumors that the city was dangerous held true as in that one week you'd seen and heard about more crime than you'd seen in the past five years. It rarely happened near you but goddamn that city was crazy. Thankfully, you mads quick friends with some of your coworkers and they taught you a lot about surviving the insane amounts of crime. You might never get used to living there but at least you knew which places to avoid like the plague.

Jason showed up without warning one day after work. For the time being you worked at a photography company where models and other Gotham celebrities came to do photoshoots. You were heading out, done working for the day and deciding where you would go for dinner when the receptionist stopped you.

"Just a moment! There was someone who requested to speak with you when you were done." You stopped, turning around with a surprised expression. The receptionist pointed you towards the lobby and you nodded, heading in that direction. It was a little early for you to have your own clients requesting your services, so you honestly had no idea who it could be. When you saw Jason Todd standing there in a dress shirt black slacks, you almost dropped everything you were carrying.

"Hey?" you said cautiously when you reached the lobby. He looked up from his phone at the sound of your voice and smiled. There were a lot of chairs in the room for clients to sit and wait and he was sat in one of them near the center. He stood when he saw you and met you halfway.

"What are you doing here?" 

"This is kind of embarrassing," he mumbled, looking at you with sheepish eyes. "I have this thing I need to go to that I need a date for and you're the only person I could think of."

You tilted your head in confusion, watching him shift under your gaze. Of course, this was a goddamn blessing for you, but you knew better than to not ask any questions. Nobody asked for something like this without hidden motives; you knew that better than anyone.

"Why me? You don't have any other friends you could ask?"

"Well yeah, but at the place I'm going...I have a job to do and I don't want anyone coming up to me. When we hung out at the party, nobody tried flirting with me so I was hoping you'd do the same thing again."

There it was. "Oh so you need like a fake girlfriend," you clarified. Jason flinched at your wording but nodded.

"It sounds pathetic when you say it like that," he replied. "But yeah. I wanted someone kind of out of my circle so it wouldn’t be as confusing and weird."

Watching him, a feeling settled into the back of your mind. By the way he carefully chose his words and how he seemed to react when you asked questions, you knew there was more to the story. Still, his request was simple enough and it was an opportunity to get closer to him. How could you refuse?

"Sounds simple enough. When's the occasion?"

"Right now," Jason responded. You couldn't help dropping your jaw a little when he said that.

"That's a little short notice," you gasped. "I'm not even dressed for anything right now."

"I know, I'm sorry. This whole thing was sudden. We can stop on the way and get you something to wear. There are plenty of stores around here."

A new outfit? Now you were really sold. You retained your apprehension outwardly though, not wanting Jason to know you were sold purely on the premise that he would buy you something. Still, you had to ask to be sure.

"Hm...do I get to keep the outfit?" 

"Yeah, for sure. Think of it as compensation for agreeing to going with me," he added quickly.

"I guess that's fair," you said finally. "I don’t have any other plans tonight, so I might as well"

"Thanks, you're a lifesaver!" Jason quickly took your hand, tugging you towards the entrance to the building. Your mind was still reeling at the fact that he not only sought you out, but that he he was already asking you out on a date. Granted, it was a fake date, you still counted it as a win in your book.

"I have a car waiting. Do you need to drop anything off at yours?" You looked up at his question, pulling yourself from your thoughts. His hand still hung loosely in yours as you walked with him into the parking structure but you elected not to say anything about it.

"No, I uber to work. It costs less than the parking in this building," you explained. Jason nodded, returning his attention to looking for his car. 

"Okay, I'll take you home afterwards then." You let him lead you to where his car was parked and he opened the door for you and let you in. After you were fully in the vehicle, he closed the door and rounded the car to enter the driver’s seat. 

“Here, you can put your bag in the back,” he said, eyes landing on your backpack. You nodded, reaching back to rest your bag on the floor beneath the back seats while Jason started the car. He was pulling out of the parking space before you were even back to sitting in your seat. You were a bit shocked at the sudden movement and hurriedly put your seatbelt on.

“By the way, how did you find out where I worked?” You asked after you were out of the parking structure. You remembered he also knew your name at the gala when you hadn’t even told him. For a split second, you wondered if this was maybe a bad idea. You really didn’t know him at all and you just hopped into his car without asking that many questions. It would be just your luck that you got kidnapped and murdered trying to finesse more money into your bank account. 

“You dropped your business card at the gala,” he said simply. You recalled offering some of them to a few people at the party so it wouldn’t be impossible for you to have dropped one of them. The only problem was that you hadn’t had time to make them for your new job yet. They still listed your old place of employment and if Jason had called any of your contact numbers you would have known about it. 

“I haven’t made any with my current job, though. Those are outdated.” 

“Yeah, but your name isn’t. It’s not hard to find people, especially in Gotham. We love to gossip,” he explained. He was right about that. Finding information on people was way too easy with the internet, especially when they were well known. Someone doing research on you, however, was something you hadn’t experienced before. The thought of him finding out what you’d done in the past made you second guess your entire plan. But would he have really invited you out if he knew the truth?

Shaking the thought out of your mind, you decided to focus on the present. Jason was parking the car a long a long strip of neon illuminated stores. There were all types of stores settled nearby that created a kind of strip mall in the middle of the city. You still hadn’t gone shopping much since you’d moved to the city so all of the stores were new to you. It took every ounce of willpower you could muster not to look like a kid in a candy store. 

“We’re kind of short on time, so tell me your size and we can split up to pick something out,” he said when you entered the first store. You eyed him with a glare when he said this so he quickly spoke up again. “I promise I won’t judge whatever number you tell me.” 

Sighing, you told him what size to look for and he set off on to the other side of the shop. The store was small, but it seemed like a high end type of store. The kind where the most expensive outfit on the shelves whispers sweet nothings into your ear, coercing you into finding a way to own it in any way possible.The kind that made your heart turn to stone. 

Considering this was the first time Jason offered to buy you something, you forced yourself to stay on a short leash. Nothing too expensive. You limited your search to things that were simple, fighting the lingering gaze on what you saw that was extravagant. Those would have to wait for another time.  Right now, you needed to stay focused on keeping up an image. 

Jason approached you not too long after you started looking. Truthfully, you’d only found a few things that caught your eye with the limits you were placing on yourself. Jason however, came through with his arms absolutely suffocated in hangars and fabric. “Hey, you ready to try some stuff on?”

“Jesus, did you take out a whole shelf?” You said, aghast. You took some of the outfits out of his arms, eyes darting across them. You prayed to god he didn’t see the way your face lit up when he brought all of those clothes over because this time, you just couldn’t help it. 

“I just grabbed what I thought might look good on you. Come on, I’ll get you a changing room.” You nodded, following his long strides across the store. There were a few things that you had been looking at earlier in the pile and seeing them made your heart flutter a little. The fact that he just haphazardly picked up whatever he saw made it so much harder for you to not take advantage of him too much. But if he cared about how much he spent he would have looked at the price tag. 

Still hesitant to go all out, you tried on everything that he gave you. You saved some of the things you were drawn to for last, knowing that if you tried them on and liked how they looked it would take a miracle for you to politely decline. He was pushing your self control to the limits. When you finally moved passed all of the cheaper outfits you both picked out and jason declined them, you were left with the more expensive clothing. The first few were nice, but it wasn’t until the fourth one you tried on that Jason responded positively. 

“That,” he said, eyes combing over you as you exited the dressing room. “That’s it.” Your heart was racing. Not because he was looking at you, but because the outfit was to-fucking-die for. It was too much though. You had to say something. 

“This is really expensive...Maybe we should try another store,” you said sheepishly. Jason shaking his head almost made you scream. 

“No time,” he responded simply. "It's fine, I'll put it on Bruce's tab. This is like a penny to him." You didn't argue. Warning him once was enough and if he didnt care about using Bruce Wayne's money to buy you something, who are you to stop him? Instead, you stayed silent, nodding as he gathered your things. You followed him to the cashier and they were able to check you out without you having to change into your clothes again. And just like that, Jason swiped a card and the outfit was yours . Suddenly, you remembered why you were so addicted to this. The rush of euphoria that followed walking out of the store made whatever Jason had in store for you completely worth it and any hesitation you had about going with him vanished. It was pretty fucked up; you knew that, but at some point you just stopped caring.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd #jason todd imagine #red hood x reader #red hood #red hood imagine #idk what to tag this tbh #manipulation

[7cypher]

Tied Together | 02

The last thing you needed when you had a demanding daughter and job was a divorce made difficult by your husband. Luckily for you, Min Yoongi—Seoul’s top divorce lawyer—stepped in to save the day. Well, more or less.

▸ PAIRING: Min Yoongi x Reader

▸ RATING & GENRE: PG-15 ; Angst, Fluff, Divorce Lawyer AU, Marriage AU

▸ WORD COUNT: 10,079 words

▸ A/N: Aaaah okay so I definitely enjoyed writing this part more. I hope you like the read and, if there are any questions/thoughts, feel free to message me! Disclaimer again that I have zero proper knowledge about law!!

▸ WARNING: Brief drunken cheating scene.

Part One | Part Two

Yoongi carefully made his way up. He was definitely in over his head. What the hell was he doing? He always made sure to steer clear of the messy, intimate parts of a divorce, yet here he was volunteering to fix pieces of it. He barely knew the little girl, had only spoken to her briefly once or twice and she had regarded him with such cool, calculating eyes that he felt threatened.

Knocking lightly on the door, he waited to see if she would respond. As expected though, none came. He creaked the door open slowly and peeked inside, “Mia, it’s Yoongi.” She still granted him no reply, even when he stepped in and found her bundled up with a blanket over her head. He observed how the cloth seemed to tremble and wondered again—what the hell was he doing? “Hey, can I talk to you?”

“Don’t want to,” she mumbled, still hidden from sight where she was a mound of cloth on the bed.

“Look, your mom—” he paused, taking a deep breath “—she’s been through a lot. I haven’t known her for long but I know that she’s been struggling plenty with everything that has been going on.”

“Don’t wanna hear it,” Mia said, voice muffled through the layers.

Yoongi bit on his bottom lip. This was probably an indication that he should’ve stopped, should’ve never stepped foot in the room in the first place. But his conscience had been pulling on the strings of his mind, urging him to pay attention. “She loves you a lot, Mia,” he added softly, “she didn’t want you to be hurt from all this so I’m sure it was hard for her to tell you.”

The fortress broke open with a whip of the blanket, revealing a red-faced ten-year-old that somehow still managed to scare Yoongi shitless. He backed away slightly and coughed awkwardly, trying to maintain his composure. He couldn’t believe he was feeling this disconcerted due to a child.

“But she should’ve told me!” she snarled, “that’s why I’m mad at mommy.”

“Well, um—your mommy was going to tell you but she was scared, yeah, she didn’t want you to be mad at her. That’s maybe why she held off on telling you.”

Mia narrowed his eyes at him, gaze almost piercing even in the dim lighting of the room. Her lips curled sourly as her glance darted away from him. He almost breathed a sigh of relief. She sighed quietly, “That makes sense.”

This kid really was petrifying, it’s no wonder even Namjoon always spoke so highly of her. “Yes, so I hope you’ll forgive your, uh, mommy. She’s really… sad.”

“I know,” she pouted, “but I’m still mad.”

Well, Yoongi didn’t have a solution to that. He did his best.

“Are you her boyfriend?” she asked curiously, tilting her head. Her eyes were suddenly bright with life, with assessment. He wanted to pee his pants.

“Uh, no,” he gulped, “I’m her lawyer, the one helping her deal with the divorce.”

Mia seemed to mull over this for a few seconds before shrugging, “I think you’d suit her better than my dad ever did.”

Holy shit. This was definitely way out of his comfort zone. Time to leave. “Uh—”

“But okay,” she huffed, “I understand. But I’m just going to stay in my room and make her think I’m still mad for a little while. That’s what she gets for keeping this from me.”

Fucking terrifying. This kid was a devil trapped into a child’s body and Yoongi was dead scared in that moment that he was going to be possessed too. There was a wiseness to her words, a mature cadence to her voice that made her seem older than she actually was. Like everyone has been telling him, Mia was a clever one.

Still, he couldn’t help but crack a smile at her. “You’re an evil little thing.”

“I take after the best,” she grinned right back, a malicious sparkle in her eyes.

“Alright, get some sleep and please talk to your mom in the morning okay?”

“Okay,” she nodded, tucking herself underneath the blankets.

Yoongi felt something aligning with pride blossom in his chest. He did a good thing, the right thing. He made his way to the door for an escape, but not before hearing a quiet “thank you” to which he simpered at on his own.

When the man returned after spending an excruciating number of minutes upstairs, you nearly leapt off your seat. “What did she say?” you asked, eyes pleading.

“Everything’s fine,” he assured you, choosing not to let you in on the secret Mia had disclosed to her plans, “she’s getting some sleep now but she should speak to you tomorrow.”

You let out a sigh of relief—this was the first bit of good news and, despite it not being the most significant, it was enough to assuage some of your worry. “Thank you, Yoongi. I really can’t thank you enough.”

“It’s no problem,” he said then adding, “maybe I should work for family therapy, I seem to be pretty good at this.”

His joke had you giggling lightly. “Not too late for a change in profession, Min.”

He smirked, “I’ll consider it. I should get going though, it’s late and I think we all need the rest tonight. Give me a call whenever you have time again and I’ll squeeze you into my schedule.”

“Will do,” you nodded, “thank you again. Let me know yeah when you get back?” He seemed surprised by the request, the reaction obvious in the slight widening of his eyes. You blushed slightly, unsure why you were so embarrassed by your demand, “Just so I know you’re safe.”

Yoongi’s lips twitched but he nodded nevertheless. “I’ll do that. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Yoongi.”

The following morning found you obsessively preparing a breakfast good enough to suit kings and queens. You had cooked up all of Mia’s favorites, an unconscious effort to hopefully conciliate with your daughter. Mia tended to be stubborn, has been known to hold grudges against those who wronged her, and you could only hope that you weren’t one of them.

When she came down, your body’s first instinct was to tense nervously. “Morning, Mia,” you greeted, hoping your voice wasn’t shaking as much as your insides were.

“Morning, Mom,” she yawned, “what’s for breakfast?”

“You can take your pick,” you said, finishing up the last of the pancakes and setting it along with the rest of the feast on the table.

Your eyes met and you found what you could only call devious glee. “You really didn’t have to do all this,” she huffed, but sat down and began to eat without complaints. You were thankful that she was at least speaking to you and exhaled the heaviness in your heart. “And,” she started again, mouth full of eggs, “I’m sorry for screaming at you last night. That’s not polite of me.”

You nearly wept, you really did raise her well enough. “It’s alright, and I’m sorry too for not telling you.”

“Your lawyer explained it to me and made me understand,” she nodded proudly, “I like him. He’s smart.”

Oh, that was new. You bit back a smile. “Yeah? You like Yoongi?”

“Yep,” she said, “maybe once you divorce dad you can date him instead.”

“Mia!”

Your company held an annual summer gala—a fancy shindig to reward some employees and invite the press, inducing good marketing while also allowing time for clients to mingle. It was a good opportunity to do some PR and get to know more companies in the industry. Of course, being one of the heads of the conglomerate, you had the chance to invite some of your closest peers and acquaintances.

Namjoon had been on the list ever since you could get your hands on it along with a few other tight friends whom you treasured dearly. However, this year, you figured it wouldn’t hurt to invite Yoongi as well. He had become a friend, after all, and he was also Namjoon’s friend so that would be another excuse to add him to the guest list.

Set in a large ballroom in a hotel downtown, the event was magnificently planned. You had spent the last two months stressing over the tiniest details, driving your own secretary to the brink of her sanity. But all your hard work and tears paid off when you saw the splendid venue. Guests were drifting across the floors, plates of scrumptious dinners in hand from the buffet catered only from the best restaurants. The hall seemed to light up brilliantly, shimmering with the hypnotic white light.

“You did good,” Namjoon nudged your shoulder with his own, a dimpled grin on his face. “I think you’ve outdone yourself.”

“That’s what you say every year,” you laughed, “but thank you, I’m glad you appreciate my taste in decor.”

“You know I got you, babe,” Namjoon winked.

You crinkled your nose at him, “Well, thank you also for making time to come. I know your days have been jam packed and I’m glad to see a familiar face.”

“Uncle Namjoon!” Mia chirped, running on her little legs, her glittery blue dress swaying around her legs. She launched herself around Namjoon’s ridiculously long limbs and he was quick to crouch down to embrace her in a tight hug. “I missed you,” she gushed.

“Missed you too, little monster,” he flicked her nose playfully. Ever since he heard you use the apt nickname, he couldn’t help but pick it up. “Have you been behaving for mommy?”

“Mhm!” she nodded.

“And classes?”

She held up a finger, “Number one!”

Namjoon beamed, “That’s my girl. Here, a present, don’t give it to your mom okay.” He held out an envelope and she practically glowed at the sight.

“Namjoon!” you chided but it was too late, Mia was already squealing, thanking him and running off knowing full well that you would take it out of her hands to return it to the man. Namjoon didn’t look the least bit shameful over his actions and instead said that she deserved it. “I can’t believe you’re bribing my child into liking you.”

“Babe, you and I both know bribery isn’t needed for that. I’m naturally charming,” Namjoon huffed.

“That’s a moot point.” This time it was another voice that had you and Namjoon turning away from the stage.

Wow. Yoongi had cleaned up for the event and you were somewhat pleased—no, scratch that—you were very pleased with the result. His bangs were slightly parted, revealing a hint of his forehead and his dangerous eyebrows. He donned a classic black suit ornamented with weaves of patterns that reflected light every time he shifted. Layering the jacket over a crisp white shirt tucked into black slacks, he also had slipped on a bowtie that worked very well with him. His ears—holy shit—he had piercings and had slipped on very small hoops. They worked very, very well with him.

You kicked away the sudden heat bubbling in your stomach and spreading all through your body. Licking your lips, you tried to hide the desire warming up your cheeks behind your flute of champagne.

He nodded in greeting to you, “Thanks for inviting me.”

“It’s my pleasure,” you brightened in return, “thank you for coming, it’s a good chance to finally come out of that office of yours. God knows Heechul can’t stand the smell anymore.”

At that, Yoongi scowled with a roll of his eyes. “Heechul can put up with it considering he’s spilled coffee on my shirt this week. Twice.”

You laughed, “I think you’ve scared him into oblivion. You should lighten up on him.”

“He definitely seems to have taken a liking towards you,” he nodded thoughtfully. Then he looked around, seeming to look for something or someone. “Where’s Mia? Thought she’d be around you.”

You waved it off then picked up a glass of wine from a waiter walking past and offered it to him. The last time you invited Yoongi over, he had refused a drink, calling champagne a disgrace to the alcoholic beverages category, but had reluctantly accepted when you insisted on wine instead. He thanked you and waited for your response. “Most of my colleagues are familiar with her so she tends to be here and there, burn off all that energy before the gala is done.”

He smirked, toasting his glass, “Smart.”

Namjoon eyed your interaction with great interest, tilting his own glass to let the fizzy liquid flow down his throat. “Didn’t know you two were that close.”

“Yoongi is around the house from time to time when we can’t meet in either of our offices. Mia sees him a lot too, seems to like him now,” you grinned.

“Mia? Liking someone other than me? Unheard of,” Namjoon gasped dramatically.

“She’s widening her horizons,” you noted proudly. The event planner made her way over to you, whispered something about someone uninvited causing a ruckus outside. There were always event crashers, usually drunk, usually manageable so it was surprising for her to come up to you. Judging by the look of discomfort on her face, you decided it would be best for you to handle it personally. “If you excuse me, gentlemen, I have to tend to another matter. But please, enjoy the food and beverages, I’ll see you both later.”

You followed the woman down a hallway outside of the ballroom and into another room where you could hear screaming from the other side. The last thing you expected when you went through the doors was for Sungjae to be standing in the room. Security was there attempting to hold him down, but it was clear that, in his inebriated state, he wasn’t having any of it.

“Sungjae.” The name slipped out almost instinctively. He looked up, halting his efforts in the battle in the process.

“Baby,” he grinned, a cloud of impairment glazing over his eyes.

“It’s fine,” you gestured for the men to stop and turned to the event planner. “I’ll take care of it from here, please ensure everything else goes undisturbed.” She looked a bit hesitant at your order, but nodded and signaled for the men to follow her out, leaving you alone with the man who was then staring at you.

It really was heartbreaking to see him in this state. His hair was disheveled, suit crinkled, a dark bottle in hand that he lifted to take another swig of. Gritting your teeth, you snatched the beverage from his hand and glared, “That is enough, Sungjae.”

“I haven’t finished that,” he growled, fire igniting in his irises.

“Enough, you’re being disrespectful to me and the company right now.”

“That’s right,” he drawled sarcastically, “you missed an invite, didn’t you?”

Every year, Sungjae has been invited as your date to the gala. Everyone’s grown accustomed to seeing him there, so acclimated to it that you had received plenty of inquisition about his whereabouts that night. You looked at him with concern, “You haven’t been home in nearly a month, Sungjae. I just assumed you wouldn’t be coming.”

“Seem to do a lot of that, don’t you? Assume,” he spat out mockingly.

“Sungjae, please. Look I’ll get someone to take you home, okay? We can talk about this—”

“How’re the divorce papers?” he smirked instead, plopping down on an empty couch and patting the spot next to him.

You ignored his invite and instead sighed, aggravated. “They’re going. You know you won’t win anything from this, right? You’re just wasting your time.”

“Trust me, baby,” he said with a curl of his lips, “I have all the time in the world. You’re the one who brought this on, why should I make it easy for you?”

What happened to him? You didn’t understand how much a man could change in a span of a few months with only one trigger to set it off. It was as if all hell that had been trapped inside him had broken loose the second he was released from his job. A part of you felt some form of culpability. Maybe you hadn’t been aware of all of his struggles, of his troubled thoughts. Maybe if you had been more curious and less caught up in everything that was you, you would’ve noticed and prevented all of this.

It took two to tango. You weren’t completely blameless in the downward spiral of your relationship either. Somewhere along the way, you had somehow lost that passion you once believed you had for him—and in turn lost all your faith in him.

“Sungjae, please, let’s just get this settled quickly. For both our sakes and Mia’s.”

“Don’t bring her into this,” he growled, “you know well that you would be given full custody of her. You dare bring her into this? You’re taking her away from me!”

“I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t deem it necessary! Don’t even try to deny it. This wouldn’t have happened in the first place if you didn’t start it.”

Sungjae sneered, “You think the entire fucking world spins around you, that you’re playing the martyr in this case. But we both know better than that.”

“I’m not trying to antagonize you in any way. I just want the best for her,” you snapped, “that’s what you should want to. You’re her father.”

“That’s exactly why I don’t want her to grow up without a father.”

You laughed in disbelief, “You think this is fatherhood? Your absence being so frequent that Mia doesn’t even ask anymore. Do you think it’s easy for me? Do you really think I’m happy to see our daughter not give a single flying fuck that her father isn’t around anymore?”

Something flashed in his eyes, something you hoped to be fear and remorse, but you couldn’t quite tell. The flicker disappeared as quickly as it had materialized. Before he could retort, the door opened and Yoongi stepped in. God, no. This wasn’t good. You could feel the fear creeping into your voice when he made his way over to the two of you. “Yoongi—”

“Really?” Sungjae directed this towards you instead, laughing bitterly, “Divorce isn’t even settled and you’ve already replaced me?”

“Jesus Christ,” you snarled at him, “he’s my fucking lawyer for God’s sake, Sungjae.”

Sungjae disregarded your words completely, instead standing to size up Yoongi. It was the stance he had taken even in college whenever he felt particularly threatened by another presence. It was familiar and it was childish. The man was wobbling with his buzzing mind, but he didn’t seem to care as he stumbled over to your friend.

“I think that’s enough,” Yoongi muttered then glanced towards you, his gaze briefly scanning over you to ensure that you were unharmed. “I hope you don’t mind my interruption. Namjoon was getting worried and I went to check on you. This wasn’t what I was expecting.”

“It’s fine,” you pressed your lips together. You weren’t pleased that Yoongi had shown up, but it was mainly due to the fact that your husband was behaving like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

“Sir, if you could kindly follow me out, we can settle this carefully. You don’t want to make your case worse for you,” Yoongi advised calmly, reaching for the man only for him to bat his hand away.

Sungjae jeered, his eyes turning as it to ridicule Yoongi’s attempt, “Piss off. Are you threatening me?”

“I am not, but I am her lawyer and I won’t hesitate to take this into court should it escalate.”

Your husband glared at you instead, pointing his finger accusingly at you. “Can’t fuckin’ believe you’re already doing this,” he barked.

“Sungjae, Christ, it’s not like that,” you muttered, “can you stop being a child for two seconds? Listen to him. I don’t want things to be worse for you. What would the judge say? Do you think they would even want to give you time to see Mia if this gets brought into the settlement?”

His eyes turned manic then, as if fear was fluttering through his system at breakneck speed. He swallowed, backing away from the two of you, mouth opening and closing with no words tumbling out. The sheer disbelief imprinted on the creases on his face was agonizing. As much as you did not like his intrusion to your event at the moment, you also wanted to reassure him that it was going to be okay, that they were going to be settle this quietly.

“Please, Sungjae, just listen to him,” you whispered.

“I can’t believe you, you’re a fucking—”

“Sir,” Yoongi interjected, moving to stand in front of you, “please follow me outside.”

“And you—you fuck right off! You have no right to get involved. This is between me and her.”

Yoongi’s lips tightened again. “Sir, I have to get involved. She’s my client—” pause “—and a friend. if you don’t listen to me, I will include harassment in the courtroom and you certainly do not need that on top of everything else. I suggest you take your leave now because there are already plenty of witnesses on the scene who saw you enter, witnesses that can easily testify on our behalf. You don’t need this to worsen.”

Sungjae’s eyes darted between the two of you. You begged him with your gaze. Please, just go. Don’t make this situation more awful than it already is. His predicament and inner dilemma was palpable in the way his eyes darted quickly between the two of you. He seemed to have come to a decision when he stalked off towards the door, shoving them open with a shout, “Whatever, see you in court.”

It was then that your knees began to give out but Yoongi was quick enough to catch you, arms wrapping around you to support your body and help you to a seat. All the adrenaline had dissipated from your body, leaving nothing but exhaustion and ache in your being. You didn’t know what you were supposed to do, what in the world—

“Breathe,” Yoongi bent down and looked up at you. “Breathe, it’s okay. He’s gone. It’ll be fine. I promise I won’t include this if you don’t want to.” His hands enveloped yours, thumbs running over the skin comfortingly. The action did little to actually alleviate your swelling apprehensiveness, but you appreciated the thought nonetheless.

“N-no, don’t,” you cleared your throat, breath hiccuping in your throat,“I don’t want to rub salt in his wounds. It’ll become messier for us too if we keep adding things.”

“Alright,” he agreed.

Namjoon burst through the doors then, hurrying over to your side and scanning you for any injuries. “Are you okay? I heard the last of it but security wouldn’t let me in—”

“I’m okay,” you swallowed weakly, “thank you.”

Mia was close behind him and quickly jumped on your lap, slinking her arms around your neck. She was whimpering softly and you apologized over and over to her, placing kisses over her hair to soothe her.

“I’m good, baby,” you smiled at her when she pulled away, “don’t worry. Uncle Yoongi helped me.”

“I heard Uncle Yoongi inside,” she nodded then turned to Yoongi with gratefulness oozing out of her. “Thank you for taking care of mommy.”

Yoongi offered a small smile in return. “Of course, Mia.”

After that, the rest of the event went by relatively uninterrupted. You had your speech, had to hear Namjoon clap and hoot from the crowd. Cleaning up with the rest of the team and thanking them for their hard work, you finished up the last of your duties for the night. You were beyond drained at that point, the activities of the night sucking the last drop of energy from your body.

“Did you drive?” Namjoon asked, tilting his head. “You don’t seem to be in any state of handling any vehicle at this point.”

“Wow, thanks,” you sighed. It was true, you looked worse for weary, blinking away sleep from your eyes as Mia held onto your hand.

“Yoongi, you brought your car, right? Why don’t you drive her back?”

Yoongi opened his mouth as if to argue, but Namjoon gave him a look that shut him up. He turned to you, “I can drive you both back and someone can pick up your car tomorrow.”

“No, it’s really fine. I can still drive.”

“I insist,” he supplied again, “it’ll be fine. I have enough room in the car for the two of you and I don’t have work tomorrow so I can deliver you both home safe and sound.”

You still looked dubious, but Yoongi insisted again that it was perfectly fine. Thus, you ended up caving, nestling into the comfortable passenger seat of Yoongi’s car. Mia was strapped in the back, bouncing and squealing about how cool everything looked. The ride was pleasant and the silence was constantly covered by Mia’s enthusiastic chatters about the people she met tonight. She seemed much more at ease with Yoongi, including him into the conversations and asking him for his own thoughts.

By the time the lot of you reached your home, she was fast asleep in the backseat, her voice having disappeared from the quietness just moments ago. While you collected your belongings, Yoongi volunteered to carry her upstairs despite your protests. He only waved you off, carefully picking the little girl up and bringing her to her bedroom and tucking her in. Thankfully, she was a heavy sleeper and was still out cold when Yoongi closed her door.

You were pouring yourself a glass of wine when the man returned to the dining room. “Care for a glass?”

“I think I’ve had my share tonight,” he laughed lightly.

“Oh, come on, it’s not everyday you get to sit back and relax like this. You wouldn’t make me finish this on my own, would you?” you wiggled the bottle before him.

Yoongi shook his head, amused, “Alright. Just one, then I’m heading back.”

Of course, it never ended with just one—not when the two of you were getting down to the nitty gritty of your relationship with Sungjae. Curiosity had gotten the best of the man and a question quickly slipped out of his lips about what happened between the two of you before he could contemplate it further.

You hummed thoughtfully, body warm and buzzing. “Hmm, I mean, I really was in love with him once,” you confessed, “we had a blast in college, never one without the other. When he proposed, I guess it was just… expected. He was expected to do it, I was expected to say yes. It seemed logical. But guess we should’ve waited a bit longer. Work took off for me but didn’t for him. I went to work and he went drinking. Love lost, I suppose.”

“I’m sorry, it must’ve been hard,” Yoongi rambled again. You could begin to hear his words stringing together, slurring over each other.

“I got used to it after a while,” you sighed, leaning your head on his shoulder tiredly. The two of you were nestled on the couch in the living room after the dining room proved to be too chilly for your liking. “It was hard at first, but the worst part I guess is being so tolerant and familiar with it. Who knew that I would be so… fine with him gone? Hell, a part of me even felt relieved at times.”

Yoongi remained quiet at that, breathing out and taking another sip of his drink.

“I’m sorry,” you jerked away, “that must sound terrible.”

“It’s reasonable. You had a reason to be,” Yoongi promised, “I think… you’ve done enough on your end, it’s time for him to make a change.”

“It just gets lonely, you know, it’s nice having someone to rely on again. You’re very dependable, you know that?” you giggled, poking his arm.

He snorted, “Thanks, good to know I’m doing my job right.”

“What about you? Any love stories? Any exes to look out for?”

Yoongi laughed quietly at that, “No, my current affections only lie in my workplace.”

“Including Heechul?”

“Including Heechul,” he smirked, “I haven’t dated in so long. I think I’ve lost my touch for it.”

You peered at him curiously, “Why not? I don’t think you would have any trouble getting anyone you had an eye on.” When he turned to you with an expression of sheer disbelief, you added in a wink. “Come on, Yoongi, it’s not like you don’t know you’re attractive.”

His response was only to take another gulp of his wine and look away, circling the rim of his grass with the pad of his finger quietly.

“Yoongi!” you chastised.

“What?” he chuckled, brilliant, bright eyes flying up to meet yours.

“You’re so—ugh,” you broke off, scoffing.

He laughed, louder this time, with a tip of his head. The pretty column of his throat exposed itself, almost tantalizingly drawing you in to the smooth skin. “I’m ugh? I don’t think that’s a very good sign.”

“Oh God, you have to know you’re like really good-looking.”

His milky skin seemed to tinge the color of corals, a sweet dusting across his cheeks. “Ah, thank you. I’m glad you think so.” His latter sentence seemed more of a question rather than a statement. He inhaled deeply, breathing out through his nose, “I think… being a divorce lawyer just keeps reaffirming that love isn’t for me, that marriage isn’t for me.”

“Feeds into your cynicism?” you smirked.

He matched your expression with a nod, “Can’t help it. When you see relationships fail on a daily basis and are supporting the cause, it’s hard to have faith in the impossible, you know?”

“It doesn’t have to be impossible,” you shrugged, “it differs between couples. I’ve seen some last a lifetime, some a month or so.”

“It’s not like I’m drawing anyone in anytime soon,” he snorted, “so I don’t really think too much of having no relationship.”

You bumped shoulders with him and grinned, “If you weren’t so intimidating the first time I met you, I might’ve actually liked you.”

“You don’t like me now?” he teased playfully.

“I might just like you more now,” you scrunched up your nose cutely at him, “you’re really cool but also super, like, humble? How do you even do that?”

“You’re flattering me too much, I have a feeling you’re going to be asking me for a discount for my employment soon.”

You gasped, smacking his shoulder, “How dare you accuse me of such a thing?” Cue a momentary pause before you looked up hopefully at him. “But did it work?”

He snorted, “Fat chance.”

“A girl can hope,” you sighed. You lolled your head back, groaning as you cracked your neck. The event had been more taxing than you initially imagined, you could feel the aching throbbing on the back of your neck. Yoongi’s eyes seemed to follow your movements, his gaze searing heat into your skin where it was exposed. You still had on the dress you had prepared for the gala earlier, an elegant, off-shoulder satin piece that draped over your figure nicely.

“You’re beautiful.”

The words that fell from his lips tipped over the balance of the atmosphere. Your breath hitched in your throat as you whipped around to look at him only for Yoongi to veer his body away from you, his throat moving with a swallow.

“Sorry, that didn’t seem appropriate.”

“I, um, no—I mean, it’s fine, thank you,” you stammered yourself, biting your lip as you felt heat creeping up your cheeks. That had been truly sudden. You weren’t sure how to react to it. “I mean, it’s flattering to know that you think I’m… pretty.”

“You are,” he murmured softly, glance flicking up to scan your eyes.

You giggled, a nervous twinge in your voice, “I hope you’re not just saying that to return the compliment.”

“‘Course not,” Yoongi grunted defensively, “I genuinely think you’re beautiful. You’re a very stunning, perspicacious woman and I hope no one’s told you otherwise.”

“Uh, no, no one’s told me otherwise. I think. Not to my face at least,” you mused, humored.

The two of you sat in silence for a second, for a heavy beat in the air, before you decided to spin your body. Yoongi met you halfway, touching his lips to yours. Your heart lurched in your chest, threatening to burst as you were taken aback by his boldness. However, it didn’t take you long to melt into the kiss. His lips were gentle, careful, moving against yours very cautiously.

Your hand reached up to curl around his neck, tugging on the strands of hair behind him. He breathed against your lips, tongue darting out to lick at your lips. You instinctively granted him access, opening your mouth and allowing his tongue to slip inside. The muscle stroked your insides, pressing up against yours, wet and hot. His arm slid around your waist, tugging you closer and, before you realized, your legs were thrown on either side of his body. Your arms drifted around his neck, pulling him closer and you pressed into him. His own limbs encased you, folding your body into his. Your beings practically molded together, two hearts beating rhythmically together in the silence of the room.

His hands stroked your cheek, fingers cool against the heat of your skin. You didn’t know how long you sat there just kissing—lips connected and twisting in synchrony. Your heart felt as if it was soaring and grounded at the same time, all the pent-up emotion that had mounted over the days, all your bottled up frustrations all began to dissolve into the sweetness of the brush of his lips against yours.

Neither of you seemed to be conscious of what happened next, but the two of you ended up tangled together on that couch, wrapped around each other, hearts still beating as one.

You were in the kitchen the next morning, absentmindedly preparing breakfast. Your body moved on autopilot, too distracted to really focus on the task at hand. Having woken up before Yoongi, you had quickly leapt away from him, contrition chipping away at your conscience. You had slowly pulled yourself away from him, allowing him to nestle into the couch comfortably. With a heavy heart, you had left him there to get ready for your day, bringing you to this point in time.

The thud outside the dining room had you rushing there in case it was Mia, but instead you found Yoongi wincing as he attempted to carry his shoes out the door. God, this was going to be painful. “You know,” you cleared your throat, drawing his attention. He whirled around like deer caught in headlights, eyes wide and lips parted. “You can stay for breakfast, I’m making something warm.”

“I’m good,” he stiffened, straightening instantly, “I have work.”

You bit back the urge to remind him that he had told you the exact opposite just the previous night. “It’s coffee and toast,” you offered again, hoping it would persuade him.

Yoongi flinched, nibbling his lip warily. Your name rolled off his tongue bitterly, like a piece of regret he was trying to rid himself of. “We really shouldn’t.”

It hurt, it did. Your offer had been one for a friend, a comrade whom you trusted and relied on. But it would also be a lie if you were completely innocent in your suggestion. A part of you wanted him to stay so the two of you could work it out and hopefully smooth things down to leave no awkwardness behind.

“It’s breakfast, Yoongi,” you pressed again, your voice surrendering more of your anger than you wanted. “I’m not proposing to you.”

That seemed to strike another chord with him and he startled a little. He gulped, looking everywhere but you. “Look, I think we should just draw the line here. I’m a divorce lawyer, I don’t quite do romance. None of us are cut out for it and I’d rather not have you get your hopes up on a hopeless feat.”

Your voice was quiet then as you contemplated your next reply. “It doesn’t mean you can’t try,” you whispered, “not every marriage nor love is doomed to fail.”

“All the marriages I’ve seen had been, I can only judge based on experience,” he said almost apologetically, a look of sympathy bordering on pity engraved into his eyes. When you provided him with only quietness, he continued, “I’m just trying to keep things clean here. This is work and work alone. I don’t think loose ends is a good idea.”

Your heart stuttered as you looked up at him in surprise, both hurt and shock flashing in your gaze. “Loose ends?”

“This is for the best,” he maintained and you weren’t sure whether he was trying to convince you or himself. His tone was almost patronizing, insulting. “I’ll see you in the office and court, okay?” With those last words, he slipped on his shoes and was out the door, leaving the hallway cold and unwelcoming.

The month of your divorce was spent in a flurry of court schedules and piling workload. It was exhausting to enter the courtroom and spend hours arguing to wipe your hands clean of Sungjae. He seemed quieter in the courtroom, less aggressive. It looked as if he had given up hope of attaining everything he wanted. It was an easy win for you and Yoongi—well, you mainly. You had gotten everything you requested in your documents. The judge had closed the case quickly, determining that it was clear who would be granted full custody of Mia.

Although expected, you were still flooded with relief at the results.

As everyone filed out of the courtroom, you felt your legs wobble and weaken, plopping you down on a chair in the hallway as you thanked the lords for giving everyone strength to make it through that painful debacle.

While you had obviously known that this would be you cutting ties with Sungjae, it didn’t make it any less hurtful to know that you’ve finally cleared yourself of the man who had given you the best and worst of memories over the past few years, some of the most significant in your life. It was terrifying to know that he would be gone, that it was official what you once had has ended.

Looking up at the shadow cast over your feet, you found Yoongi looking at you with a softness in his eyes. Softness you didn’t want to see from him. Your throat was still raw with the emotion that had overwhelmed you the last few hours.

He said your name and you got on your feet, interrupting him with a polite smile. “Thank you.”

Yoongi blinked, looking somewhat unsettled. Perhaps he had been expecting something else.

“I’m glad it’s over,” you nodded slowly, “no loose ends right?” Your smile was admittedly crooked, as if you were biting back sentiments threatening to spill into your expression. This was it after all. The end. “I’ll send the rest of the payment by Monday,” you reassured him.

He looked conflicted for a second, his eyes searching yours cautiously. His lips parted for a brief second and your heart dropped. No, no. Please don’t— he clamped it shut. Instead, he bobbed his head in agreement and held out his hand. You shook it firmly. He said, “Thank you for your cooperation thus far.”

“No, thank you.”

After that, the rollercoaster of your life seemed to stabilize. Your days ran smoothly, an endless cycle of the same routines. Your mind was occupied solely by your assignments at work, the never-ending stack that your secretary seemed to delight in adding to, and Mia who came by to play every once in a while. She entertained herself for a while, jumping from cubicle to cubicle and getting her hands on anything and everything.

But the worst times were the periods of boredom she suffered through, prompting you to suffer through them as well. She would swing her legs wildly on the office chair in front of your desk, big eyes peering up at you. “When’s Uncle Yoongi coming back?”

You sighed, “He’s not coming back, baby. It was only for work and it’s finished.”

She pouted petulantly, mumbling, “I thought you guys were at least friends.”

Your heart throbbed dully at the thought. “I thought so too.”

And you figured that was all the twists your life had in store for you, that the rest of your days would pass by insipidly with the exception of days Mia seemed to surprise you with something she’s done or instances you would flail to reach deadlines. It wasn’t until a knock on your door, two months after the hurricane had slanted your life on its axes, seemed to collapse all your expectations.

Your first instinct was to freeze as you looked at the man who stood before you, surprise would be an understatement. “Sungjae? What’re you doing here?”

“Uh, can I come in?” he shifted almost anxiously. He looked neat with a neat white shirt, dark trousers over his legs and his face shaved clean of any stubble. His hair was no longer a horrid mess but had been cropped short to show off his dashing looks. For a second, you were thrown back to college, how good he had looked at the time. But even then, your heart was beating a different rhythm compared to those days. Love lost.

You wanted to tell him no, to send him away.

“I-I just want to talk,” he stuttered in addition, “you’re free to say no, but I was hoping we could… talk.”

That was how you ended up seated in a coffee shop just blocks away from your home. You still weren’t quite sure of his intentions and thought it best to take things away from your household, somewhere public, in case anything went south. The both of you sat in silence, you staring at him in confusion, him fidgeting in his seat.

“I want to start by apologizing,” he blurted out, his words had you tensing almost instantly. “I know I’ve messed things up between us, for us, for the family. I know I won’t get a second chance with you, but I—I don’t want you to remember me that way, as selfish as that sounds.”

You were too stunned to respond so you remained quiet, encouraging him to push forward.

“I’m slowly getting myself back on my feet, got myself a job,” he laughed shortly, “something small. I’m working my way back up, trying to get back on that position. It’s going to be a long ride but I’m enjoying it so far, feeling the normal again, you know.”

“Sungjae,” you began quietly, “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“I’m not asking for you back if that’s what you’re scared of,” he added swiftly, eyes bulging in fear. “I just—we have history and the last thing I want is for you to remember me as is this asshole who fucked up our marriage, fucked up our family. I—” he paused “—I wanted to thank you mainly. I’m glad you asked for the divorce and went through with it. It was like a slap of reality, it cleared some things up for me. I’m still going to therapy, and I’m trying to patch things up. I know things still aren’t the same, and they never will be, but I’m just hoping to fix some of the damage I’ve done.”

You felt for him, you really did. A large part of you believed that he would do it, that he would get by, and you were relieved. Though a small piece of you was still skeptic of him and the meaning of his arrival, you chose to set that aside and gave him the benefit of the doubt.

“I’m glad,” you said earnestly, “I’m glad you are, Sungjae. It’s good to hear that you’re doing better and that you’re making the effort.”

He seemed mildly appeased by your words, offering a shaky smile. “Thank you, really. I appreciate your thoughts.”

“But that’s not the only thing, is it?” you asked. You’ve known him long enough to recognize his ticks and tells. His incessant shifting and moving eyes gave him away.

Guilt painted over his features as he nervously began again, “I know this is a lot to ask, but… I was wondering if you would give me a chance to start anew with Mia.”

That had you clenching your fist, fingernails digging into your palm, as you narrowed your eyes at him.

“I-I know I don’t deserve it—”

“You don’t.”

He faltered slightly and you almost felt guilty. “I’m still her father.”

“You lost that right a while ago.”

Sungjae swallowed, gaze falling to his hands. “I’m aware of that and I’m sorry, but I hope you’ll give me the chance to rectify that. One chance. It doesn’t have to be now or today, but… someday.”

Your first instinct was to reject his request and leave, drop everything right then. Sungjae, if he really has changed, would let the matter go as well—either that or the old Sungjae would’ve returned to persist until he got what he wanted. But your compassion kicked in. This was Sungjae baring himself to you, exposing his struggle and success since the last time you’ve seen him. The change was evident in his appearance, the penitence dripping in his voice.

“Check back in in a month and I’ll decide then.”

His eyes brightened with hope and your chest ached. “Thank you, thank you,” he whispered over and over, bowing from where he sat, “I promise I’ll do my best. I won’t let you down.”

You really hoped so too.

On the other side of town, Yoongi was sulking and snapping at Heechul. Again. He had been in this perpetual state of undeniable, cyclic annoyance towards everything around him. His secretary seemed to be the butt of all of his channeled rage. Heechul’s threatened to quit several times, but HR had managed to make him stay with the pledge that Yoongi’s mood wasn’t going to be permanent.

But jokes on him, Yoongi was always bitter. He was just more so as of late.

“She’s been working more you know,” Namjoon said, sipping his coffee casually as if he hadn’t just raised the taboo topic Yoongi had been attempting to avoid for so long.

The elder man gritted his teeth, focusing instead on picking on the pastry in front of him. “What she does has nothing to do with me.”

Namjoon snorted in disbelief. “Is that why you’ve been checking your phone every two minutes?” So Yoongi’s never been an avid phone user, but he has been obsessively refreshing his phone these past few… weeks. He was expecting important emails, that’s what he told himself at least. “And,” Namjoon continued as if he wasn’t annoying enough as was, “is that why you knew exactly who I was talking about?”

Yoongi scowled, biting down on his muffin angrily, “Look, I don’t need you on my ass about it.”

“You’re making it difficult when it doesn’t have to be,” the younger sighed, “you like her, why can’t you just admit that? Christ, hyung, it’s not like i’m asking you to drop on one knee and sweep her away to the Bahamas on a honeymoon. I’m just asking you to give things a try.” His words was a moment of déjà vu for Yoongi who had heard the exact same words from your mouth months ago. “I know your occupation makes you a skeptic of the entire romance thing, and so did your parents.”

He flinched, hating himself for reacting to it. His parents weren’t particularly a touchy subject, but he couldn’t deny that they played a part in his distrust towards marriages and relationships in general. Some section of his mind held onto those memories, to the failed love his parents had experienced, and expected him to do the same. He was aware of that, he just didn’t like to admit it.

Instead of responding directly to him, Yoongi said, voice low, “Do you know that the number of marriages reached its lowest point since 1974 last year?” Namjoon quirked an eyebrow. “Fell below three-hundred thousand. And you can guess why.”

“That’s a stupid argument,” Namjoon muttered, “and did you know that the divorce rate has been declining since it peaked in 2003?” Yoongi opened his mouth. “Yeah, dropped 1.7% last year too, down by 1,800. Amazing, isn’t it?” Namjoon laughed, that familiar look of self-satisfaction dancing in his eyes. “If you’re going to play dirty with numbers then you can bet your ass I’m going to use it against you.”

Yoongi wanted to hit him.

“I’m not asking you to jump for it, not asking you to drop everything you’ve believed in for her. That’s absolutely senseless and I know you’re better than that. I also know you enough that you never back away from a challenge, so what are you scared of, Yoongi?”

This was the worst.

If there was anything worse than dealing with incompetent employees, it would be dealing with a dozen screaming children running around your house while doing your best to be a good host to said children’s parents. It was bad enough that you were running the party on your own, with a little bit of help from your secretary who had a soft spot for your daughter, but couple it with mothers who didn’t know when to keep their mouths shut just made it ten times worse.

The divorce topic was hovering over the entire room, a question on why it happened. But none of them dared to bring it up on such a joyous occasion except one. You weren’t sure whose mother it was but you sure weren’t inviting her to any future engagements.

“I heard you recently got divorced,” she had started with a look of feigned sympathy, “I’m sorry to hear. Must be hard to be a single mom.”

You had laughed it off, told her it was fine. You were okay with it. Until—

“I can introduce you to a few men I know.”

Holy shit. You bolted out of there so fast with an excuse to replenish drinks out in the lawn where the kids were gathered. As the kids busied themselves with games hosted by the MC you had hired for the day—also known as your lovely secretary’s boyfriend, you went over to the door when the bell had rung. You were ushering a few of the kids who had disconnected from the group to check if it was the clown (it wasn’t) back inside, shouting at them to stay away from the vases. You huffed, tired, as you swung open the door.

Your entire body became paralyzed at the sight. You really didn’t think anything would surprise you more than Sungjae’s arrival, but once again life proved you wrong. Yoongi stood there, a bouquet of flowers in one hand, and a very, very big wrapped package in the other.

You couldn’t form a coherent response, so he took initiative, offering a small smile. “I remember reading in your files that your daughter’s birthday was today. I was hoping you’d be home and that—” a scream sounded somewhere in the distance, there was too much distracting ringing in your ear for you to acknowledge it “—that, uh, you’d celebrate here. Guess I was right, huh?” He awkwardly laughed.

You tightened your jaw. “What are you doing here, Yoongi-ssi?”

He flinched at the formality, looking almost guilt-ridden for a second. “Please don’t call me that. I think we’re past formalities.”

“It was just business, remember?” You knew you were being difficult, but it had been months. What made him think that he had any right to show his face here when—

“Uncle Yoongi!” The shriek reached the door before your daughter did, barreling past you to throw her arms around his legs. “You’re here!” Then her eyes found the blue box. “And you brought me a present?”

You tugged on Mia’s arms, but she was tireless as she whined and clung onto him. “Mia, enough. Go back inside, you have your friends.” A quick glance down the front hallway let you know that the mothers had grown curious at the sudden appearance of a handsome man at the door, their whispers carrying down the column.

“Invite him in, Mom!” Mia squealed. “Invite him to the party!”

“Mia—”

“Please, please,” she begged over and over.

You huffed, giving her a stern look, “I’m sure he’s busy.”

Mia scoffed as if the thought itself was absurd. “It’s my birthday,” she said, her words explaining everything, “he can’t be busy for my birthday.”

Yoongi, above her, choked on a laugh and nodded. His lips were still stretched wide in a thrilled smile as he ruffled her hair. “I cleared out my day today to celebrate with you.”

Hurt passed through your gaze as you gulped the guilt clogging your throat. Mia was still tugging on your dress, urging you to invite him. What choice did you have? Your hands were tied. Begrudgingly, you opened the door wider to let him in. Mia tugged him into the house, showing him the spread they had and all the games planned out for the day. Yoongi seemed content with following her around, but you still noted the glances he threw your way. Knowing he was in your home made you feel even more nervous. You kept yourself engaged with the most infinitesimal of tasks, picking on small things to make sure that things were perfect.

Meanwhile, Yoongi was beginning to dread this entire situation. Mia was still holding onto him and, as much as he loved her and was there for her, he also wanted to speak to you. It was wrong of him to use Mia to his advantage but beggars can’t be choosers. He was fine with Mia pulling him all over the place—that was, until he spotted Sungjae. The man was tucked into a corner, smiling as he looked over the kids, looked over Mia.

Yoongi knew he had no right to be possessive over the little girl, the little girl that was half of you and half of Sungjae, but his irritation still brewed hot and angry inside of him. He excused himself away from Mia, letting her return to her friends, before stalking over to Sungjae. “You know that the—”

“I know,” Sungjae smiled, completely ignorant of Yoongi’s annoyance, or choosing to ignore it, “but she invited me.” What the fuck? Something identical to fear took over his vexation, a gnawing feeling in his heart that told him to run, run, run. What if—what if you had taken him back? You both had a past, one that went far and deep beyond Yoongi’s reach. But he tamped down his questions for now, figuring that he would go to you for those answers instead.

But the man opened his mouth again. “She’s a keeper,” he hummed, a twinkle in his eye, “so you better get a hold of her fast if you don’t want to use her.” Yoongi thought that this man might just want to go with him right then and there. He was being purposely cryptic, something Yoongi didn’t appreciate.

He had other things to focus on, more important things.

You were still moving swiftly around the house to get everything in order. It wasn’t until you were in the kitchen that Yoongi trapped you. He had been attempting to catch you a few times, but his efforts were fruitless when you kept evading him.

Avoiding his eyes, you started, “Mia needs to—”

“She’s good,” he curtly intervened, “she’s playing with her friends.”

“I need to make sure—”

“Food is all stocked, the parents can feed themselves.”

You were growing incensed by his interruptions. “Yoongi.”

“We need to talk.”

Goddammit. You huffed, rolling your eyes, “There’s nothing to talk about. Plus, it’s been months. We could’ve done this talk months ago.”

Yoongi sighed, “I know. I’m sorry.”

“I have other things to do, Yoongi.”

“Please,” he pleaded again. It was a mistake to look at him then because his stare was brimming with desperation, one that made you cave.

Biting your tongue, you snapped, “Two minutes.”

“I don’t like mixing business with pleasure,” he began. This was not off to a good start. “You were my client. I had to maintain my professionalism, it wouldn’t have been right. Kissing you—” he paused, connecting his thoughts “—kissing you and staying with you that late had crossed too many boundaries we had when we were still working together, when you were still married.”

You stiffened. He had a point and that bugged you.

“It wasn’t fair to either of us, nor Sungjae. But I’ve been thinking about it these past few weeks,” he softly spoke, “and I guess we both fucked up a little.”

A gasp from the door (“he said a bad word”) drew your attention away from Yoongi’s face and to the menace that was peeking into the kitchen. “Mia!” you scolded, blushing, “stop eavesdropping!” Then she darted away and you could hear the resounding footsteps.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, “forgot there are kids around. But, uh, my point is. I did mess up, I should’ve came clean but I was—I guess I was still trying to piece my feelings together. I haven’t been in a relationship in so long, you have to know that. This is—this is like brand new territory for me, my affections towards you.” You looked up then, meeting his eyes. “I didn’t want to think about the possibility of having something beyond platonic emotions towards you, that there might be something more.”

“It—it just doesn’t sit well with me that you took this long to figure this out. I know you’re sorry about it, I’m sorry too. It wasn’t right for me to pressure you into it and I apologize. But why now? Why didn’t you speak up then?”

Yoongi swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing. He took a deep breath and continued, “At that point, I was scared that it was also you just seeking company. You were alone after having been with Sungjae for so long, you were going through a divorce. People don't recover that fast and I didn't want you to jump the gun in case you changed your mind. Yes, I was scared, but I also wanted to play safe to make sure that you were sure about it."

Dammit. You took your words back. This was the worst. “I hate it when you make sense,” you muttered, “I hate that you can reason everything you do.” A huff escaped your lips, one that disclosed your displeasure, but also your defeat. “But, you’re right,” you breathed, “the timing had been wrong. I might not have been in my right mind then to make those decisions and you were the smarter of the two of us to understand that. So I guess thank you too for being careful with me. I was still attached, it wasn't fair. So I think I should also be asking for your forgiveness.”

Yoongi seemed to bloom with your words, something akin to hope gleaming in his eyes. “You know my answer to that already.”

You pinched your lips, suppressing the sudden urge to grin, “It would still be nice to hear it.”

He laughed, leaning his face closer to yours, bumping your noses together. “I forgive you, will you forgive me?”

“You know my answer to that,” you teased.

Yoongi growled, brushing his lips over yours ever so lightly. “You’re trouble.”

Somewhere in the close distance, you could hear Mia’s voice. “I think they’re kissing! They’re finally together!”

You groaned, tossing your head back in a thump against your wall. “Mia, stop it!” Yoongi only chuckled, amused as per usual. This would be a reoccurring experience.

Then a question: “Do I get to call him dad number two yet?”

“MIA!”

#bts #yoongi #bangtan bookclub #bts scenarios #bts angst #bts fluff #yoongi scenarios #yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #i scheduled this because now im off to finals week HAHHA rip #it's not my best characterization of yoongi honestly #HES BETTER THAN THIS #but let's get this over with and make better dynamics next time :D