#and it’s such a good break of like. a bright sincerity in the midst of

[sleepdepravity]

I rewatched 1982 sweeney todd with some people recently and now I’m just thinking about how much I love “kiss me”

[elena-mayfair]

Fears

Paring: Bruce Wayne x f!reader, Batman x f!reader Genre: Thriller, mystery, with elements of slow-burn romance Warnings: rating T+/M, strong language, unsettling images, themes of depression, depictions of mental illness Summary: He wanted her to trust him, he wanted to reveal the darkest depths of her mind, he wanted to explore her fear, he wanted to take it away from her, use it and exploit it. But the dance between nightmare and dream, between care and torture was a delicate art requiring careful movements. In the end, he didn't want to break her, on the contrary, he wanted to fix her. Liberate her. And perhaps in the process satisfy his own desires. Word count: 8k Note: Gifs are not mine, credit to the authors.

Series masterlist

***

Y/N could remember very well the time when she was a young girl, full of hope, full of joy, full of hopes and dreams. She remembered vividly all the teenage fantasies she used to dream, all the plans she used to make, all the goals she wanted to pursue. She could retrieve from memory every single part of her adult life that she had imagined, clearly as if those dreams had never left her. She never wished for much, never wanted too much, all she desired was a peaceful, warm, happy life. A loving husband, two sons, a house with a white picket fence, a loving family, a simple sweet apple life. Just as vividly as she remembered all her teenage fantasies she recalled the pain of disappointment when all her dreams crumbled into nothing, the bitterness with which she lived with every day. For Y/N's life quickly turned out to be quite different from what she wished it had been.

As a young girl she created in her mind an image of her future self. A strong woman with a smile on her face and a kind heart. Drawing inspiration from strong fictional characters who, despite hardships and adversity, always maintained a cheerful and good nature, this is how she wanted to be. Yet she had not assumed that one day she would become one of them, the pain and trauma they had to deal with included. Not much remained of that hopeful young girl, only a realized image of her own fantasies now devoided of the beauty and warmth she so desperately longed for. Kind but cautious, sincere but reserved, who loved life but walked through it completely alone, she began to realize more and more how broken she really was. How much each successive blow she received from life seemed to be the one that would tip the cup of bitterness and push her over the edge. And yet, balancing on the edge of resignation, she kept on clinging to life. She kept looking for wonders in the dark corners of everyday life, searching for joy in the midst of anger and disappointment, trusting as she pushed aside fear and prejudice, she continued to smile, even though more often than not her smile was stained with contempt.

And yet on that evening, when she was with him, she smiled. She genuinely smiled. That evening her eyes shone as before, her voice was soft as before, that evening for the first time in a very long time, she just felt herself, she felt normal. As if for a fleeting moment, her dreams were revived once more. It was a beautiful moment, fleeting, ethereal, which like a lovely dream came and went, leaving only the reality. And even though she knew she had no reason to, Y/N felt sad, broken. How could she feel sad when she had spent a wonderful time in the company of a fantastic man? How could she feel sad when that man made plans for the future in which he included her. How could she feel sad when the future seemed bright and exciting.

Yet she knew well that just as little happiness had befallen her in the past, there was little chance that happiness would befall her in the future. After all, why should the future be any different? Why should she cling to delusional hope?

She knew these moods all too well, days like this came without warning, out of the blue. Days in which she couldn't smile, couldn't sing, couldn't pretend, and yet she did. She would go to work with a smile on her face, at work productively she would always be full of energy, always close to her colleagues, always bright, always determined and focused. Her mask fitted her face perfectly well. Long ago she had learned to answer a concerned question about her well-being with a nonchalant, "I'm fine, just tired, didn't sleep very well." Long ago she learned to disguise her anger with a smile. That in this case, there is no point in being honest, after all, people didn't care. After all, she was always alone in the end anyway.

*

"Why do you insist that you can handle all this alone?" Jonathan sat comfortably in an armchair and observed as you tried to avoid the subject through cooking, "we were making such good progress and now over the course of a day you take not two, but ten steps back and shut down completely."

"I'm not shutting down!" you denied, "there's just nothing to talk about!"

"You know I completely disagree with that. You would have to be blind not to notice how withdrawn you are."

"Hey, I didn't invite you here to give me another psychoanalysis!" you turned on your heel angrily threatening him with a spatula, "I wanted to take my mind off all this, not talk about it."

"I don't even know what you mean by all this," he pointed out calmly, "as your…"

"I thought we were no longer contracted therapist-patient agreement," you snarled.

"As your friend, I'm worried," he finished in a stern yet gentle voice.

"There's no reason! Sometimes I just have these moments, it will pass!" shifting your focus away, you angrily stirred the pot, "They come just like that, for no reason. Some trivial trigger that opens all my carefully sealed boxes and bad memories and negative emotions pour out one by one," the words flew out nervously, "I don't need therapy! I need a friend who will take my mind off all this! I can handle the rest on my own. I just need some time to lock them up again…" Jonathan's hand rested on yours stopping your frantic movements. You didn't even hear him approaching. You looked at him, into his intensive green eyes that revealed understanding and concern.

"It is no achievement to box up negative emotions and experiences and shove them deep into the back of your mind," he began as his eyes shone intensely, "the trick is to eliminate those boxes. To free the mind from pain and fear. To take control of the fear."

"Do you have any magic drug that will do that?" you smirked.

"I may have one," he replied, "but it won't work if you don't talk to me."

Jonathan turned off the gas under the pot, took both your hands and pulled you to sit with him for a moment. You knew well what he was getting at, yet you couldn't say no to those mesmerizing green eyes. In all the chaos you've been experiencing over the past few weeks, it was he who was always there when you needed him, like an anchor that held you safely to the ground. He answered every phone call, came whenever you needed him, listened, understood, and wanted to help you. Without knowing when Jonathan Crane went from being an unwanted therapist to a very wanted… "friend?".

"If you're about to say something among the lines you have to open up and trust me, you can't hold it all in because it will eat you up from the inside then spare me please," you started before he could say anything, "let's have dinner watch a movie and just have a nice time. Since you're not my therapist, in the literal sense of the word, please do what I want for once!" Jonathan merely tightened his hands on yours as if he was trying to stop your rush of thoughts.

"Y/N you need help. And even though you know this you make it much more complicated than it needs to be," the green of his eyes seemed to darken along with the tone of his voice, "It's really quite straightforward. You've got…well…" he paused as if picking the right words, "let's be honest. You've got issues. Major issues."

"I've asked you…" you tried to interrupt him, get up, walk away, serve dinner. You couldn't. His hands were clenched tightly on yours and his green eyes were hypnotizing.

"The only way we can even begin to resolve them is through therapy. Intensive therapy," he affirmed in a calm voice and added, "unless you don't want to get better?" you remained silent. "But of course you do…"

"I'm doing perfectly fine!" you attempted a confident tone.

"Do you now?" he didn't believe you, "Tell me. How can you possibly be fine after everything that happened to you?"

"Head up, chest forward and always keep fighting!" you smiled cockily.

"How long?"

"As long as it takes. Until I collapse."

Jonathan let go of your hands and moved away a little staring at you intently. Some part of you wanted to use this moment and run away, to break the tension that hung in the air, to get away from him as his close presence made your confidence vanish with each passing second. Despite this, you stayed. Even though his hands let go, he still had a pull on you, without saying anything, by simply being close.

"You see life as a struggle," he began after a brief reflection, "you said it yourself. Always keep fighting, until you collapse. You're an intelligent woman, tell me, is this how it supposed to be?"

"Maybe not, but we have no control over what Destiny has planned for us."

"You think everything that happened to you is destiny? Everything that has happened to you since you came to Gotham not to mention the things you stubbornly refuse to talk about. Do you really think it's destiny?"

"That's the way I see it," you began, aware that you won't be able to escape this conversation, "Destiny deals the cards of fate, looks at what he has on hand and throws it. To one Destiny gives happiness, to another wealth, to yet another fame, to someone else love, then he reaches for the cards of trauma, pain, and suffering. Destiny looks at them for a moment, then throws them to those who have already been dealt them in the past and are still standing. Throws them to them because he knows they can handle it."

"Fascinating that you talk about destiny as if it were conscious being capable of making decisions. Even more fascinating how you see and perceive the events in your life," the intense green of his eyes shone with sheer fascination, "there may be a bit of truth in what you say. I am a psychiatrist, not a philosopher. However, I dare say there is something else, equally important, that you are overlooking."

"What's that?

"Choice," one word, spoken in a low half-whisper, pierced you to the core, "your choice. The choices you make when faced with adversity. The choices you made that led you to where you are now. It wasn't Destiny that told you to come to Gotham, it was your own choice. You chose to work at Wayne Tech, you chose to sign up with me for counseling, you chose to renew contact with Harleen, you chose to drive the car off the bridge, you chose to confront Harleen at Amusement Mile, you chose every single day to get up, lift your head high, smile and keep going. Destiny, if you want to include it, may have laid out the paths of fate before you, but it was you who chose to walk them," as he spoke gazing into your eyes intensely a single tear broke free and ran down your cheek in a silvery trail. "So now I, not destiny, present you with a choice. Will you choose to continue to abuse yourself and stubbornly refuse the help I want to give you, or will you be brave enough to take the hand I extend to you and let me guide you through your fear."

"Jonathan…" your voice trembled as you tried to answer. You didn't have to. With the back of his fingers Jonathan gently wiped a tear from your cheek and gazed deeply into your eyes as if trying to reach your subconsciousness. Emotions took over you. You didn't fall apart with tears. Even though his words struck straight to your heart you did not allow yourself to cry, crying was personal, could see it. Instead, you moved closer to him, curled your legs up, and cuddled into his side as he put his arm around your shoulders. "Alright, let's do this…" you whispered into his chest, "whatever you think is right. I trust you."

"Do you now?" he asked quietly while brushing your shoulder. Snuggled into his chest, with your eyes closed, you couldn't see the satisfied smile fading over his face.

"I do…" you murmured, "I don't know why. You know very well that I'm rather cautious when it comes to people. The last time I trusted someone…." you sighed heavily, "you know…"

"Don't try to sabotage yourself justifying it with bad experiences," his low smokey voice sounded from deep within sending a pleasant shiver down your spine, "don't let fear control your actions."

"Choices…."

"Choices indeed…" his fingers moved in a soothing rhythm over your bare skin, "if you let me, I'll teach you how to control fear, how to use it and turn it into a weapon more powerful than all others. All you have to do is let me."

"Over the past weeks, you showed me more support than anyone else…" the warmth of his body was so pleasant, so soothing. Even though a part of you screamed that you shouldn't, you wanted, craved this closeness, didn't want it to vanish. "I can't remember the last time…" you paused.

"Stop that…" he whispered and wrapped his arms around you tighter, "we'll take care of all this tomorrow."

***

Tomorrow came. It came and brought with it worries and doubts. Just the previous evening everything seemed so simple and you were so determined. After the evening full of fascinating conversations about all kinds of topics and the movie you watched together, you felt wonderful. You haven't brought up the subject of therapy again, for which you were grateful to him. You didn't feel uncomfortable even though you had spent well over an hour, silently listening to the calm beating of his heart. He didn't seem bothered either. Not so long ago he had been Doctor Crane, a psychiatrist whose persistent piercing gaze made you want to run as far away as possible, now he was….

"Who?" you wondered once again as you walked down the quiet city streets. You couldn't find the right word. Somehow "friend" didn't seem like the right one. You quickly chose not to think about it any longer. Too much was going on. Too many events occurred one after another. You couldn't think about it because if you started, you would have to start thinking about everything else. "I jumped in front of the pointed gun. I met not one, not two, but five vigilantes! Harleen lost her mind. Batman promised to help her. Why was Jonathan in Arkham? Batman also asked me to trust him! I'm flying with Bruce fucking Wayne to Metropolis!" thoughts and events on which you should reflect flashed through your mind one after another. "At that rate I'm gonna lose my fucking mind by the end of the year!" You pushed them all aside. You had neither the mental strength nor the desire to process them all. "Just go with the flow," you decided.

That evening the city was supremely quiet, and you couldn't shake the feeling that Gotham was somehow hearing you and adapting to you. As if it was whispering "let it go…", as if it was tempting "take what I give you…". A gentle wind swept over your face bringing a pleasant autumn chill, the empty streets murmured with the quiet hum of life giving rhythm to your steps. And yet, despite the all-pervading calm and gentleness, an eerie feeling kept returning time and again. A strange tingling in the back of your neck as you changed direction, a feeling of tension as you turned down a side street, everywhere you looked there was peacefulness, yet you felt uneasy. Stealthily glancing over your shoulder, you tried to spot movement, in vain. Friend or foe? Safety or danger? You briefly clenched your hand on the tiny bat-shaped transmitter hidden deep in your pocket. Would he really show up? If you pressed a small button, if you were in real danger, would he save you? How long would it be before he jumped off one of the roofs, before the shadow of his flowing cape covered the light of the setting moon? Or was he already here? Maybe that tingling sensation on the back of your neck was his own watchful eyes following your every move? Or maybe it was just a delusional hope. A fantasy of a Dark Knight who would save you from danger.

You let the transmitter out of your hand and sped up your step. Friend or foe one thing was certain, in Gotham the shadows had eyes, watchful eyes, peering at you from hiding, tracking your every move, your every step…watching over you. You smiled to yourself and decided to accept the new feeling. It felt good.

*

Jonathan anxiously counted down the minutes until Y/N's arrival, minutes that seemed to pass unbearably slowly. He counted down each one of them as he listened for footsteps on the stairs, eagerly anticipating the sound of a soft knock on the door, looking forward to the moment when she would finally appear here in his office. For here came the opportunity he had been waiting for for a very long time, which came to him on its own, reluctantly asking for help, offering his complete trust in return, and he could take advantage of it. For weeks he had been working to convince her to finally trust him, for her to give herself to him, to surrender her mind to his control, and it seemed to him that today was the day. Exhilaration pulsed through his veins as he once again inspected the tiny pressurized container attached to the oxygen mask, the small vials that were about to be filled with blood, the strap fastenings he might need, as well as the cream-colored envelope discreetly tucked aside. The envelope intended as a reward if she was good, if she obeyed him, a temptation of sorts. For he knew full well that in order to maintain a good relationship with Y/N, he had to preserve a perfect balance. He wanted her to trust him, he wanted to reveal the darkest depths of her mind, he wanted to explore her fear, he wanted to take it away from her, use it and exploit it. But the dance between nightmare and dream, between care and torture was a delicate art requiring careful movements. In the end, he didn't want to break her, on the contrary, he wanted to fix her. Liberate her. And perhaps in the process satisfy his own desires.

A quiet knock finally sounded, and before he had time to answer, Y/N entered his office. She was smiling as always, but doubt lingered in her eyes, fear already nestled beneath the surface of seeming fearlessness. "Good…" he decided, "now all that needs to be done is to amplify it."

"You're here, finally," he greeted her with a hug, "I was worried that you would change your mind and not come," empathy, she expected empathy and care, so that's what he had to give her.

"I'll be honest if it had been anyone else but you I would probably have told him to go fuck himself," she sassed with a grin letting him take off her jacket, "what's all of this?!" observant as ever, she hadn't even had a chance to enter the office properly and had already noticed the changes in her surroundings.

"I had to make some adjustments," he kept his tone of voice calm and controlled. Although he wanted with all his heart to push her onto the bed and let his desires finally take over, he knew he couldn't. It was a dance. "We talked about it. I used the word intensive therapy for a reason," he surrounded her with his arm gently urging her to come inside. He was so close, he couldn't let her back out now.

"That looks creepy…" she looked at the bed, at the prepared empty vials, at the leather straps hanging loosely at its sides, fear clearly affected her face, "I don't know if that's such a good idea…."

"But I do," he tried to discreetly tug her closer, " we've talked about this. I understand your hesitation, but it's the only way."

"When we talked about this I thought you meant stronger drugs and conversations from which you would not let me escape, no…" she frowned, "whatever the fuck this is!"

He was losing her. Instead of following the impulse he decided to operate cautiously, decided that he wanted not only to satisfy his desires but also to really help her, and now he was losing her. The more he steered her toward the bed the more she resisted, the more he pressed the more she retreated. He couldn't let her go. Thinking little, he grabbed her hand and pulled her with him, forcing her to sit down with him. He sat close, very close, the scent of jasmine dawned on him as her hair waved with a sudden movement. He took hold of her other hand, as if accidentally brushing her exposed knee in the process, and looked deeply into her eyes. She liked it, he knew it and used it.

"I won't let you back down," he lowered his tone of voice and she trembled slightly, "we talked, we tried to talk. It doesn't work and you know it. There are topics, areas of your life you don't want to talk about. You stubbornly refuse to do so. There are also ones you claim you don't remember," for a moment she tried to slip away from him but he wouldn't let her. He could see that she felt uncomfortable. He could see that she wanted to escape. He was too close to let her do that. He only tightened his hands over hers forcing her to look at him. "Listen to me! If you can't make the choice yourself, I'll do it for you. If you don't care about your own well-being, the fact that I care will have to be enough!"

"Just give me a moment alright? Is not that easy."

"I know you're scared. And rightly so. I won't lie to you, it won't be a pleasant experience. But I promise you that I will guide you through your fears and nightmares. I will take your fear from you, and free you from it," that was his plan, "do you trust me?"

She nodded. Even though he saw fear and uncertainty in her eyes, he would not give her the opportunity to object. He got to know her, he understood her, and he was sure that this was what she desired. Although she presented herself as strong and independent, in reality she wanted to trust him, wanted to be subject to him, wanted for someone to take control, to take the decision out of her hands.

"Alright…" he smiled dimly, "then take off your dress," he instructed, "we need to connect the heart monitor."

It was a pleasure to watch her succumb to him. As she freed her hands from his, she pulled off her shoes, then her tights, and finally unzipped her dress and let the black material slide off her shoulders and fall to the floor. He didn't look away, but neither did she ask him to.

"What now?" she asked, standing in front of him in the silk chemise. To his surprise, he saw no shame in her eyes, only quiet determination. She felt safe with him. His plan was working.

"Lie down comfortably and try to relax," he instructed, standing up and turning on the oxygen pump.

"What are these straps for?" she asked, musing apprehensively on the loose pieces of leather hanging on the sides of the bed.

"I do not know what your reaction will be," he explained, "it is for your safety."

"My reaction to what?"

"We'll start with a small dose," he adjusted the valve altering the flow, "we'll increase it if necessary."

"Dose of what?" she asked, "you won't give me pills as usual?"

"The time for pills has passed. You can take them at home to balance your anxiety," he put a hand on her shoulder and forced her to lie down. "No more questions. Now it's my turn," he put the oxygen mask to her face and smiled, "breathe….breathe deep. Let it into your system. Let it take control of you. Let me see your fear."

*

You ran. You ran forward. You ran blindly. You didn't look back. Your heart was pounding in your chest, your lungs were burning with fire, and yet you ran. Your bare feet echoed on the cold white floor, blood pulsed in your ears, your head spun, yet you didn't stop. You kept running.

"Stop her!!!" you heard from afar.

Steps. In the distance, behind you. Heavy. Threatening. Quick. They ran after you. They were chasing you.

"Don't let her get away!!!"

Your muscles were burning but you didn't stop. They were getting closer.

"What do you see?" a low throaty voice ripped through the surroundings, louder than anything else, coming out of nowhere and everywhere at once, "tell me what you see!" he ordered. The voice caused you pain. Intrusive. It wanted to invade the reality around you. "Tell me!" it demanded. You pressed your hands tighter to your ears.

"I can't… Can't answer him. I must not…"

The footsteps came closer. Kneeling on the floor, you pressed your hands with all your strength and yet you could hear the clang of metal, the click of safety pins being unlocked, heavy gasps, the clatter of chains.

"There she is!!! Stop her!!!"

You struggled to get back up, supporting your hands on your knees. They were getting closer. You had to get up, you had to move. You had to run.

"Tell me what you see!" the voice demanded once again.

"No!!!" you shouted desperately breaking through the sound of heavy boots, through your own heartbeat, through the intruding voice. You smashed the white tiles on the walls, smashed the floor under your knees, smashed the light, time and space.

Nothingness.

Endless darkness.

Emptiness.

"What are you afraid of?" the same grave voice came from the void, "tell me your fears. What are you running away from? Where are you running to?"

You fell. Into nothingness, between time and space, between fear and desire. You were falling into the abyss of nightmares.

"There is no way out of here…"

You closed your eyes. Darkness enveloped you, blissful darkness, silence.

"I can't…I won't…"

"Oh now, don't be so stubborn. I'll take it from you whether you let me or not."

"No, you won't!"

You opened your eyes. The void was gone. You found your feet resting on the ground again. Confused for a moment, you looked around at your surroundings.

"It can't be...no…"

The dark brown rug under your feet bore the marks of your shoes. Mud, grit, dust, ginger cat hair. You should vacuum it, but there was no time for that. Yellow warm light brightened the hallway, the hallway you knew so well. The brown old-fashioned wainscoting on the wall, the light brown furniture, the big mirror that, although it had fallen off the wall several times, never shattered. You took a few steps, carefully, reluctantly and the smell struck your senses, a smell you hated. Sweat, the sour stench of acid, the stuffiness of an unventilated apartment, the stench of death.

"Where are you?" the voice asked, "who will you see when you enter the next room? A dying father? Or perhaps a mother? Is that what you are afraid of? Of death? Oh, how cliche."

"I'm not afraid of death," you growled answering him for the first time.

"Then what haunts you? Sickness? Pain? Loss? Who left you? Abandonment issues? Did you look after someone? Who did you let down?"

An unknown force pushed you toward the bedroom, a bedroom that you remembered all too well.

"You must face your fear," the voice pressed, "show me your fear."

"Fuck you!"

You turned around sharply and pushed with all your strength against the thrusting force. It resisted. It wanted to push you deeper into the nightmare. You clenched your teeth, dug your heels into the floor and, straining all your muscles, broke through the force. You grabbed the door handle and fell out into the hallway. A hallway that should have been in colors of gray and green. And yet, once again you got blinded by the white.

*

"You resist, not good…" Jonathan watched as she winced and thrashed on the bed. Fear, pain, despair painting on her face. Although her eyes were wide open, she could not see him, she was too far gone. She stared into space in terror as tears ran from her open eyes. "Beautiful…" he wiped a tear from her cheek and pressed it to his lips. The bitter saltiness tingled pleasantly on his lips. He was ecstatic. Fear was delightful but she needed a little more. He opened the valve and pressed the mask to her face again.

"Give me your fear."

*

Whiteness surrounded you again. Cold, raw, menacing. The white light illuminated your face, hurting your eyes, blinding you, hiding everything beyond.

"I don't understand why you tried to escape," someone's voice came from the shadows, "after all, you signed yourself up for this. Why would you want to escape now. We want to help you."

They wanted to hurt you. You knew it. You yanked hard but someone's hands held you down.

*

Jonathan ran his hand over her exposed shoulders, over the blemished pulsing veins that seemed to shimmer green against the glistening skin. Slowly, as if he wanted to memorize and learn each and every one of them. He secured the leather strap on both wrists then led his hands slowly up. He paused at the hollow of her hand, gently wet it with a cotton swab soaked in alcohol, then pierced the vein with a small needle. Red blood rushed in a rapid flow, through the plastic tube, straight into a bag attached next to the bed. She moaned as the tears ran down her cheeks again. But he did not stop. He ran his hand higher. Over her neck, over her delicate skin, over her inflamed cheeks then stopped for a moment staring into her wide-open terrified eyes only to follow the trail of sweat down with his fingers and stop his hand on her firm breast, listen to the pounding of her desperately beating heart.

*

"Give in."

"There is no way out," you tried to struggle but couldn't. An unknown force tied your arms and legs, you couldn't move, "when we're done with you you'll thank us. You will be stronger than ever. Nothing will stop you. You will be my greatest creation."

"I am no one's creation! I am myself!" you shouted fiercely.

"Not anymore," the man replied but you couldn't see his face, the light blinded you mercilessly, "the moment you signed the papers you became our property. My property! I can do whatever I like with you. Notch, cut, test, modify until I deem you finished. Until I consider my work finished."

"I won't let you!"

"And what will you do!" a sneer tore the silence, "You have no power here! You belong to me! My…"

"My property."

"No…" you wept.

"Give me your fear."

"No!"

"Stop resisting. Why are you fighting with me. Let go. Let me take it from you. Show me…."

You closed your eyes and when you opened them again the reality around you changed once more. The cool sun brightened the blue sky, and the singing of birds, the smell of fresh grass and blooming flowers brought the first signs of an awakening spring. The smell of flowers…

Lilies…

The world took shape. The ground trembled and parted, and marble and granite emerged from between the bushes and grasses. One by one they shot to the surface of the earth, bringing with them the smell of earth, of loss, of emptiness. In the distance, candles flickered under two spreading yew trees, with a bright twinkling glow. They called out to you.

"Who lies there?" a voice broke through the chirping of birds, "Why don't you go over there? What are you afraid of?"

"I don't want to."

"Who have you lost? Who has abandoned you?"

Staring still at the flickering candlelight, you took two steps back. The light came closer.

"You have to look. You have to show me."

"I won't…" you whispered in a trembling voice.

"You have no power here. You belong to me. You will do as I say."

"No, I won't..."

"Why are you resisting? Why do you refuse? Don't you know that the path of freedom leads through pain and fear?" the voice seems to have softened, as if to urge you to submission, "Let me help you. I can set you free. Free you from dread and fear. Take it away from you. You will never be afraid again. Never again will you feel that feeling that paralyzes your body and mind taking control of you," he tempted.

"We need to feel fear," you replied finding the remnants of confidence within you, "fear is essential. Fear is a natural part of human existence, without it we would be broken, defective."

"Don't resist…"

"It's not an achievement to get rid of fear, to stop feeling it," you raised your head high, "it's not admirable," you took a confident step forward, toward the tombstone, toward the flickering candles, "it's not inspiring," you sped up, "it's nothing to be fucking proud of!"

"You're wrong…"

"The real power is to take control of your fear!" you could see the shimmering golden letters against the marble gray, "to know it, understand it, and control it! Not to get rid of it! Not to let it control you! True strength is to fight despite fear! To fight along with fear! To never give up! Always keep fighting!"

"You're wrong. I will prove it to you. Give me your fear."

Before your eyes could read the golden inscription on the marble stone you turned sharply and with burning fierceness threw into space.

"You cannot have my fear!!!"

*

She woke up. She blinked, and her conscious gaze returned to her eyes. The fear was gone, what remained was exhaustion and confusion. He knelt down beside her bed and began to undo the straps. He said nothing. The blood bag had long been hidden. The toxin pump turned off. He only left a small vial of blood in plain sight, a check of hormone levels, as he planned to explain later. He freed her one hand, then the other, and helped her up.

"Are you okay?" he asked caringly, at least that's what he hoped.

"I am…" she replied and the same fierceness lit up in her eyes, "what happened?"

"You had a strong reaction, I had to tie you up so you wouldn't hurt yourself," he explained taking her hand and gently massaging her wrist. "I would like you to tell me all about what you saw. You were crying and screaming. I can only imagine what you might have experienced."

"My biggest nightmares…" she whispered staring into his eyes. There was something different about her, something changed. All traces of fear and anxiety were gone, in her eyes burned strength and anger.

"Tell me about it," he insisted.

"Not now, not today," she refused then looked at him again, "I don't want to be alone today. Can I sleep at your place?"

"Of course, Whatever you need."

Two hours later she fell asleep peacefully cuddled in his arms.

***

The night was deep and dark when you suddenly woke up. The nightmares that just a few hours ago you saw with your waking eyes now returned in your sleep, more intense than before. Even though there was no voice demanding for you to give your fear to him, even though there was no force pushing you deeper into the nightmare, you were more afraid than before. In the dream, you wandered over the marble monument with the golden letters once again, but this time you took the time to read them. You fell to your knees and pain tore at your heart, tore at your soul, tears ran uncontrollably down your cheeks and then you woke up. Your fevered mind could not register reality for a moment. The dark bedroom did not look like yours, the bedding did not smell like yours, and the pillow on which your head rested rose up and down in a calm rhythm. Jonathan was lying on his back with one arm embracing your shoulder as he slept deeply. You looked at him for a moment, at the sharp features of his face, at the defined jawline shaved smooth, at his dark brown hair, at the firm muscles hidden beneath his plain black t-shirt. So calm, so handsome, so caring and yet….

It only took a moment for your thoughts to start slipping away. A few hours of sleep cleared away the initial exhaustion, bringing new strength, new restlessness, and anger. When you asked him a few hours ago if you could sleep at his place you didn't think much. You didn't question your actions, you didn't question your choices, you didn't wonder, you simply didn't want to be alone. But when the shock wore off, when the terror passed away when you regained some of your strength you discovered that you wanted to be anywhere but here. This was not right.

Carefully, so as not to wake him, you slipped out of his embrace and off his bed. Quietly you dressed, tied up your messy hair, threw your jacket over your shoulders and walked out into the dark cool night, leaving only a short note on the kitchen table.

I couldn't sleep. I didn't want to wake you up. I'll be in touch.

The cold night air awakened your face and your thoughts. Even though the watch on your phone indicated three o'clock in the morning the city was awake, after all, Gotham never slept. Someone was always going somewhere, someone was always coming back from somewhere, someone was always just wandering the night streets. You didn't care. You had only one thought in your head.

The first stop turned out to be a 24-hour store. A pack of cigarettes and two cups of coffee, one white and the other black were all you bought. You ignored the taunts of the guy behind you, ignored the slimy smile of the cashier, you paid and walked away with a confident pace.

The white corridor. A hospital gown. Escape. Soldiers.

You lit a cigarette. Thick biting smoke filled your lungs making you slightly dizzy. It had been years since you had last smoked, yet that night you decided to forgive yourself for this little stumble. You walked ahead.

Family home. Dirty rug. The smell of sweat, acid, the smell of….

You inhaled deeply, ignoring the burning sensation in your throat. You closed your eyes as if to push the images away from your mind. You did not slow your step.

The blinding light. Helplessness. Lack of control. Pain.

Gotham Bay loomed in the distance. The breach in the bridge's railings, still unrepaired, was becoming more and more visible. But this time you headed in the opposite direction, towards the tall building overlooking the place. Carefully, wary of spilling your coffee, you climbed the closed fire escape stairs and made your way up.

Cemetery. Marble gravestone. The smell of lilies.

You choked on smoke as you climbed another floor. You weren't particularly athletic, and the old habit didn't help in getting up to the roof. You pushed away another thought focusing on your breathing and conquering the last steps. Finally, Gotham appeared to your eyes in its majestic beauty, twinkling with a million lights, like an endless ocean of stars in a black sky. You sighed in awe, lit another cigarette and pressed the tiny transmitter hidden deep in your pocket.

Time passed. Minutes, tens of minutes, you couldn't tell, you didn't care. You stared at the glow of flickering lights on the horizon, listened to the quiet whisper of the city, letting the breeze from the bay sweep over your face, taking your cares and worries with it. Before doubt had time to invade your mind, the air suddenly changed, as if electrified, when the soft sound of a falling cloak announced his arrival.

"You came…" you whispered without looking at him.

"You called," a low murmur brought a pleasant shiver down your spine. "Are you alright?"

"I honestly don't know…" you answered when Batman stood next to you. He didn't look at you, instead he gazed into space as you did. "I brought you coffee," you smiled innocently handing him a cup, "black cos you seem to me like the type who despise cream and sugar. I'm afraid it's gotten a little cold by now."

"What are you doing on the roof in the middle of the night?" he asked, accepting the paper cup from you.

"I'm thinking…"

"On the roof?"

"I suppose you do that quite often," you smirked, "and no wonder. Gotham is so beautiful from up high. So peaceful."

"That's true…" he agreed quietly and added after a moment, "when I gave you the transmitter, I was clear that it was so you could call me if you were in danger."

"Do you define danger only as a state of physical threat?" you asked glancing at him, "I honestly didn't think you would show up."

"Why wouldn't I?"

"I don't know…" you took a sip of coffee, "judging by your appearance you probably have more important things on your mind," you pointed out the dirt on his face and his suit.

"I gave you a transmitter for a reason."

"I know…" you whispered.

You both were silent, staring at the ocean of lights and stars. You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye trying to read his reactions but he only calmly sipped his coffee. He waited. Perhaps initially angry that you had called him for seemingly no reason, he now seemed to understand that the reason was hidden deep inside you, that he was the one you wanted to talk to.

"Do you ever get scared, Batman?" you finally asked but seeing his surprised look you added, "you do what you do, putting yourself out there in danger, do you ever get scared?" your eyes met like so many times before and once again he seemed to be weighing the words in his mind, thinking over what to answer.

"All the time…" he replied after a brief reflection.

"How do you do that? How do you do what you do? How do you prevent fear from taking control of you?" the questions came one after another, " back then when you pulled me out of the water…." you searched for the right words, "I was a complete stranger to you. And yet you pulled me out of the sinking car. Why?"

"And why did you jump in front of the gun that Harley was aiming at Robin?" the question came from deep inside.

"Because it was the right thing to do," you answered almost immediately, "but this is different. It was an impulse! I was reacting to the situation!

"If you were to do it again?"

"I would do exactly the same thing!" you replied with confidence, "but you do it every night! You knowingly put yourself in danger…" you took a step forward closing the distance between you and looked into the eyes hidden beneath the mask, "tell me why, please. I need this."

Tension hung in the air. Standing just a step away from him, you were sure he saw the quiet despair in your eyes, the simmering questions, the traces of fading fear. You were sure he saw it all as you did, a shadow of worry flitting across his stoic face, a flash of blue in the black of his eyes when his mask fell a little as he spoke in a low husky tone.

"Because I made promises," he began, "because I swore that I would do my best to protect those who could not protect themselves. That no…" he hesitated. The mask broke for a moment, revealing the man hidden beneath it, a man who had feelings, a man who hid pain, who was afraid. "Because I swore," he finished.

"And yet you say you feel fear."

"I do," he admitted, "so do you…"

"Hey, I climbed up on the roof to talk to the Dark Knight!" you chuckled "fear becomes a relative term!" however, you became serious upon seeing his stern eyes. "I'm sorry. It was stupid…" you reached into your pocket and pulled out your cigarettes. You lit one, inhaled the smoke and closed your eyes relishing the feeling. "I don't usually smoke," you explained, "I quit years ago. Its just...today I decided that I could forgive myself for this bit of weakness."

"Do you want to tell me what happened?"

"You're right…" you continued your previous thought ignoring his question, "I do feel scared. But not because of what has happened since I arrived in Gotham. I'm not afraid of the Joker, let alone Harley…" you paused acknowledging the name you used as you spoke of her, "no…. that's not what I'm afraid of. My fears…they came here with me. Even though I was hoping to leave them behind."

"The past has a habit of following us wherever we go…"

"Someone recently told me to let go of my fears, to give them up…" images broke into your mind again, "if someone told you that they could take away your fear," you turned to him again, "take it away from you, make you never feel fear again, would you let them?"

Once again silence fell between the two of you. Yet this time Batman was not analyzing his answer but your question. So strange, and yet so sincere.

"I wouldn't…" he finally replied, "Giving away your fear to someone, even if it was possible, would mean giving away the force that motivates you to action. Fear, if you let it, can be a paralyzing force, can be the thing that sabotages your every move, your every plan. But if you take control of it, it can become one of the strongest forces driving your actions. It's all a matter of choice."

"Choice…" you repeated quietly.

"It always comes down to the choices we make. Do we let it control us, or do we control it. I wouldn't give my choice to someone else. "

"Neither would I….neither would I…"

***

Chapter nine: Dreams - part one

***

Author note: The choices were made... right? I'm very curious to see your reaction, hope you will enjoy it? Enjoy it's such a bad word here. But I've decided to focus heavily on Crane this chapter, and I wasn't exactly planning to exactly that route, but that is where the story lead. I don't usually question it. I allow the story to lead me, not the other way around. Next chapter will be much lighter in tone, but I can't help it, I do like my dark stories. Anyways, as always, thank you for all your responses! I tagged those who asked to be tagged. Sorry for not replying, it is truly a mirricle that this chapter came to be today. I had a busy two weeks. At the end, as always Dear Reader, I thank you for reading.

~~***~~ Tag list:@clown-princesa @theclassicvinyldragon @blondwhowrites @batgirlspain @hangmanscoming @julesjewelss36 @cherryflavoredcoke

[becoming--nobody]

5.9.2024

(I felt a bit of judgement recently that I've allowed to linger with me. As always, I wrote this for myself, to put away the remainder of those lingering thoughts.)

Many times since I've ended up alone after receiving that terminal health prognosis so long ago, I've seen the same thing in the eyes of others. The common thought people arrive at is I must have been quite an asshole to have been abandoned by friends and family, to die alone, struggling to care for myself. Don't get me wrong in this, a few people reached out, tried to help in their own ways, then moved on. The abandoned I speak of is that nobody ever committed to seeing this challenge of life and death through with me.  It ended my marriage and eventually all of my relationships. That's the kindest way it can be explained.

I know this is the common conclusion (that I must have been unloveable), because I've been told this a few times after someone listens to me share the details of my story. You see, to someone who can't imagine what I have survived and grown through, I sound arrogant and prideful when I write or discuss how I no longer tolerate any unasked for critique from others.

Most people could not understand my day to day existence, and when "quality of life" is discussed, I smile and won't even participate in such talk usually. I've learned that we are capable of joy, sometimes, even in what once seemed unimaginable challenge. What most of us would consider the basics for some quality of living is far, far above what is necessary.

Part of my truth is that I still experience days of such dark despondance it would crush most other people. This is no brag of some natural strength, that is laughable!  I've suffered months and years that have broken me completely. I have lost my sanity, sobbed uncontrollably for days, screamed in the midst of some madness, and once even set out to end this life. Creation intervened, then gave me a new persepctive during the 2 weeks following my interupted effort.

All of this continues to prove a kind of gymnasium where a strength I can not really describe, continues to build upon the suffering.

I know, at least in part, some of the negative traits family, friends, some of those I've met during these years, I'm aware of some of the failings assigned to me by these people. Some of it is kind of accurate, if they know me well, but much of it is either who I was decades ago or things they've chosen to believe to avoid looking at their own unwillingness to love freely. (Some of the beautiful people I've met during these tough years owed nothing to my life, yet provided more than they will ever know.)

There are moments I allow myself to feel the weight of all that garbage, things cast on my shoulders by others. It's heavy, and really isn't mine to carry, so I'm able to breathe, pray, remember the beautiful things I love in each of these people, and genuinely ask our Creator to comfort them in good health and contentment in all of their days.

Love. 

Always it is love that saves my ass from bitter hopelessness; always love that saves my ass from riding my motorcycle off the side of a mountain; 

always love that brings back joy and causes me to lift my face to the Sun as I often write of, and smile from the depths of my being.

My heart sincerely breaks when I read or hear of others sufferings.  We all suffer.

I understand suffering. 

It's a little late, but I'm tired and will likely sleep well. I hope that for you too, rest that restores.

The Earth is still spinning, so the Sun will be out again tomorrow. Even if it's cloudy or stormy where you are, there will be day light, I hope you find reason to enjoy your waking hours in the light.

It'll be sunny here and I already feel a bit of a grin, just thinking of that bright, warm Sun on my face.

I love you,

Stan

[mywifeleftme]

325: The Go-Betweens // 16 Lovers Lane

16 Lovers Lane The Go-Betweens 1988, Mushroom

You don’t need to put a gun to my head: I’m a Robert Forster guy. Everyone agrees that Australian jangle pop legends the Go-Betweens had two first-class brilliant songwriters under their tent, but Grant McLennan tends to get the edge in most people’s books, even if they don’t exactly come out and say it. He had the sweeter voice and the more direct way with melody; wrote most of their best-known songs (“Cattle and Cane”; “Bachelor Kisses”; “Streets of Your Town”) and might have the higher overall batting average when it comes to quality; enjoyed the more consistent solo career; even died first. I love Grant! But I’ve always been more drawn to Robert’s wordy complications, his slightly dour, guarded stripes of shadow to Grant’s sunlight. Both very bright men gifted with an ear for melody, both serially doubtful in their lyrics, with McLennan I have the sense that he trusts himself to be guided by feel whereas Forster leads with his intelligence. Normally, the latter would be a minor indictment of an artist, but at Forster’s best the results are neither cold nor stiff. His songs have a complex character in the literary sense, made lively by their contradictions and keenly observed behaviours. When a pristine, jangling hook breaks through his typical reserve, it’s like he’s been moved to sincerity despite himself, and I’m moved in turn.

On 16 Lovers Lane, their last album together before an 11-year hiatus, real-life circumstances conspired to cast each songwriter in their most representative mood. McLennan was in the midst of a relatively new relationship with violinist Amanda Brown, and there’s an impulsiveness to the way his songs document the highs and lows of romance, even as one senses all’s not entirely well under the hood. Meanwhile, Forster writes with the sobriety of hindsight as he grapples with the recent dissolution of his own partnership with drummer Lindy Morrison. (Bassist John Willsteed’s feelings about not having an on-stage date are unknown at this time.) This difference makes 16 Lovers Lane both a relationship record and a breakup record, each songwriter exploring love from his own side of the divide. Grant’s songs are all gems: “Love Goes On!,” “Quiet Heart,” and especially “Devil’s Eye” make the adult work of negotiating life with another person sound like something to dreamily twirl around the house to, while the saucy crazy chick sketch “Was There Anything I Could Do?” rivals the Smiths at their most revved up. His “Streets of Your Town,” the band’s closest thing to a hit, isn’t explicitly about love, but retains the bemused contrast between form and content that marks many of his 16 Lovers songs—the way it’s possible to experience happiness even as the future seems increasingly murky.

It’s Forster’s songs however that raise 16 Lovers Lane from another very good Go-Betweens record to the short list of my all-time favourite rock albums. What makes these songs so poignant is that, while Forster’s insights into his relationships are sensitive, empathetic, even wise, it’s also clear he’s in that daze of post-breakup delusion when you still love someone and aren’t yet ready to accept what “over” really means. I adore the surreal visual, from “Love is a Sign,” that marks his first words on the record: “I’m ten feet underwater / Standing in a sunken canoe / Looking up at the waterlilies / They’re green and violet-blue / Still the sun it finds / A place to light me.” Throughout the song he gently, charmingly acknowledges the real problems at hand, but all he has to offer is the fantasy that one day something will be different, that he’ll be different, and then things will be as they were. The chorus (“This is what I find / No matter what you say / No matter what you do / I want to be the one / And love is a sign”) can read as a declaration of unconditional love, but from another angle, it’s a blanket denial of the possibility that the other person might not be right for him.

Throughout the record, a lot of Forster’s most basic assertions can be immediately disproven. “You Can’t Say No Forever”: The public record shows she could!

“I’m Allright”: A cursory read of the song’s lyrics suggests otherwise!

On “Dive for Your Memory,” he closes the record by declaring:

“Now I dive black waters The waters of her dream Are black and forgetful I'd like to make them clean So when I hear you saying That we stood no chance I'll dive for your memory We stood that chance”

Not having been there, I can’t say whether he’s right or wrong. What happens in this life isn’t fated. But to me it smacks of a man standing at the last station before real acceptance, when you feel that before you can truly let go you must demand some dignity for what you had. It is too galling to endure thinking this relationship you poured your soul into was anything less than a vessel that deserved the commitment; that you squandered your best self on a fantasy. Therefore, it must’ve been a Great Romance, and you bend all of your creative powers to constructing it as such. After enough time has passed, this sort of emotional absolutism fades and you can live with how things really were. But in the moment, there is nothing more terrible to endure than the notion you are performing in a tragedy the other party perceives as a farce.

Despite all this baggage, the wonder is how Forster’s words nestle within absolutely pristine jangle pop songs, sparkly and spangly and crystalline and all the other words critics use to try to pull their sweetness from the air to the page. It was years before I really dug into what Forster was saying because of the way he says it, part Tom Verlaine, part Gene Clark. And, like McLennan with “Streets of Your Town,” he also takes one song off the Rumours beat to offer a more introspective number that both demonstrates his pure pop gifts and summarizes the outlook he brought to the sessions. “Clouds” feels like taking a much-needed walk to clear your head, to get back in touch with who you are at the root:

“Blue air I crave, blue air I breathe They once chopped my heart, The way you chop a tree Told to equate Achievement with pain I took their top prize And paid them back with rain Visions of blue, I’m angry, I’m wise, And you You’re under cloudy skies.”

325/365

[full-of-mercy]

It is so quiet in this space.

Quiet but alive.

Hushed, insulated, isolated, private, it is anything but a charnel house or earthen tomb. The world outside may as well not exist, closed away, sealed off. Instead, in exquisite privacy beyond anyone else's purview, these four walls and tile floors magnify their presence: breath, heartbeat, the contrast of body warmth and ensuite cold, the tentative pressure of fingers to skin. All at once it feels fragile and secure, anchored and unmoored, and Nicholas is both unsure of where he stands and more certain than he has ever been.

So much has changed. So much time has passed, and only with passing awareness. This feels surreal, dreamlike, as if underneath careful hands and a perceptive gaze he solidifies himself in reality. Perhaps he does.

Maybe both of them do.

Vash certainly seems in the midst of discovery. There's a specific way that he looks when he is paying close attention but leveraging little judgment at all. It is an expression he saw numerous times during their travels, often when Vash thought nobody could see. The little crease between his brows, the slackening of tension in his cheeks, the rounding at the corners of his mouth, the way vibrant, vibrant irises make the object and direction of focus painfully obvious with or without the shooting glasses. A marksman's aim, unerring. He misses only when he intends to miss.

To be beneath that sort of scrutiny is…

It should be uncomfortable. It ought to be. In another lifetime, Nicholas might be squirming. He arrests the urge to squirm here and now, even if the slip-slide of touch pulls muscle taut. He does not retreat, but he responds with a crest of gooseflesh and a tightening of skin around bright steel outside of his control.

Beat, heartbeat. He can feel it, hear it. It echoes, resonates from extremity to extremity as he waits for the aversion he expects. That he might deserve. The crux of a miracle is often horror, after all. Not that his purported blessings were ever truly holy.

Inhale. Exhale. Brow to brow he hoods his eyes, tips his chin to edge the curve of his nose against the point of Vash's, nuzzling in to share space, to share breath.

"Anything, huh?"

Wolfwood means for it to sound more wry than it does, more teasing than it does. He's well aware of how dangerous it is to offer someone, anyone, anything at all. Anything within one's power, anything outside of it, there are implied limits and also there are no implied guardrails or guiding principles. That's part of the thrill. One small part.

Shoulders roll and pale, worn fabric slips. It bunches up around his elbows until he moves his hands, one at a time, unwilling to break contact completely. He lets the shirt dangle by the sleeve from one wrist until he finally shakes it free to the floor, lifting his chin for eye contact. His palms return to Vash's waist, thumbing the peaks of hips underneath tightly-bound leather.

"…This is a good start," he murmurs once he finds his voice. I want to live. I want to live. More than surviving. "Anything, though, hmm." A flicker of mischief skews his lips to a smirk that cracks into a sharp-toothed grin, a chuffed heh-heh chuckle that really ought to have more shame, but…

Well, it doesn't seem like the Humanoid Typhoon is in a fleeing mood at the moment, and sincerity slips back in along with sentiment, unfurling even as he kneads where he grasps, loosening buckles as he goes.

"Could do with a smile, Spikey."

@full-of-mercy

He forgets. Maybe. Forgets what he's doing, or forgets what he's been planning to do, or just. Forgets to be a good host. Vash knows he ought to take the clothes instead of being all too fine with letting fabric drop to the floor, but he doesn't want to break the contact. Wolfwood's fingers resting in loops, on belts, anywhere is too important. He knows he should say something about where the soap is. Help more. Lead.

Less forgetting going on than getting lost, then. Intentionally. Wandering a different landscape together, no maps and nothing to run from. Nowhere to go.

"As if you could ever be too much of a mess for me." Tease for tease, but he feels it, the burn in the back of his throat. Eyes threatening to overflow, but they don't. He doesn't. He tries to hold back the urge to cry, because why? Everything he longed for, for what feels like his entire life even if it's been barely a fraction of that, the loss he's felt in the marrow of his bones and the beat of his heart and the rasp of every whispered word is here. In front of his eyes, under his fingers, in this ridiculous place for reasons he can guess at but isn't ready to try and know. There's no need to cry anymore.

Vash is overwhelmed still. Good overwhelmed. That thing, that feeling, which is so very rare that he hasn't bothered to assign words to it. Again and again with Wolfwood, here, now. Speaking, and breathing, and the same. Different, but the same, and fault-- Fault, responsibility, can't be considered just now.

Still. He's looking, letting himself, trying not to stare but he can't help but see, know, the pain sketched out across the flesh as much as anything else. There's evidence of the hurt now, but he's not sure what could be made any better, any easier, by that. Or worse. It changes nothing, nothing fundamental, nothing important. It changes everything, but only in perspective. A little over to the left of what was before, maybe. Or a little more in focus, a little sharper in detail. Wolfwood is his own, now. Carrying his own markings, some intentional, and some...

He swallows, and swallows, and breathes. Leans in to the other man, forehead to forehead, a handful of seconds with gentle contact. Could still be a dream. A lot longer and more elaborate than the ones which have come before, but it could still be. It's a thought he purposely, willfully dismisses outright when his eyes trace the scar from above. Scars, interwoven, mapping out the past as much as what breaks him away from it. Proof of life, of survival. Proof of pain and loss and misery, too, but that-- Vash isn't willing to let those things be thought of above the rest. All he sees when he pulls back enough to meet the other man's gaze is--

Something he doesn't deserve. Never did. But something he is determined to earn, because he cannot let go. Already torn from his hands once, he... gently, gently lets himself touch. Flesh hand over flesh and blood and beating heart. "Yeah." It's a distracted whisper, it's saying too much and never enough and being the kind of bone-deep honest that usually terrified him to think about. Good thing he's barely thinking at all, as if eyes and fingers tracing lines of scar tissue were enough to keep him hypnotized. "I'll give you anything you want."

The realization of what he'd just said and how much he means it hit him all at once with a quiet, embarrassed laugh, eyes cast back down for a moment, but there's nothing that will make him take it back. Nothing that can make him pretend he doesn't intend to keep his word.

He wants to talk about it.

He never wants to talk about it.

"Wolfwood..?" He doesn't mean to sound timid, scared. It's not that, it's just... reaching. They're both reaching for something that feels like it's worth taking slowly, carefully, but they've also been waiting too long and he's still hoping, hoping-- "Is there anything you want?"

[blushstories]

hi! i hope you're doing great! <3

i saw you wanted some blurb requests and i have one! i just want lots of hurt/comfort with steve? r has been feeling kinda off and sad (for no apparent reason) for a couple of days and she's trying to ignore it and act like everything is normal, but steve notices and is there for whatever she needs like cry and hugs and cuddles! this is a bit self indulgent tbh, so you don't have to write it! have an amazing day!! <3

you, my dear anon, are a beautiful human being. mwah!! i hope hope you like this a lot < 3

It's quiet when Steve enters the apartment, much quieter than usual. There's no music playing through the kitchen radio, or any kind of muffled dialogue from a video essay that you're using as a podcast.

When he rounds the corner, he immediately knows why.

You're staring out the window, your bowl of cereal forgotten and certainly soggy on the small table in front of you. Your hand is wrapped around the handle of the spoon as if you're still in the midst of eating, but there may as well have been a pause button floating over your head, because you're not moving a muscle.

You're thinking, but the topics of your thoughts are swept away almost as soon as they appear, replaced with another one as if a tornado were blasting through any semblance of peace you build yourself.

There's a sudden movement in front of your face, breaking your view of the window. A hand waves gently and snaps once, and you start at the sight of Steve sat in front of you, resting his forearms on the table.

"Didn't mean to scare you," he says gently, eyes flitting to the bowl in front of you and back again. You smile to greet him, but mirror his movements, frowning at the drowned cereal and dreading your next mouthful.

"I know, sorry," you say, scooping up another soggy spoonful. Your brain is still in a haze, and you're unsure how engaged in the conversation you can be today. He frowns, inching his hand across the table until his fingertips are centimetres away from your hand. "You don't have to finish that, you know. You can get a new one," he suggests.

"But it'll be wasted." "There's not much left. Why make yourself miserable?"

You release the spoon, defeated, and his hand captures yours, thumb rubbing reassuring circles into your skin.

"What's going on?" He asks, voice soft and kind. This isn't the same Captain Rogers that the others know; it's the gentle, caring side. Always willing to let down his guard for you, he's noticed your frequent zoning out, lack of enthusiasm and general brightness behind your eyes lately.

When your eyes meet his, it's like something's trapped in your throat, and you can't speak. You try, but there's something about the sincerity in his eyes, no sign of judgement, and your hand in his that's slightly overwhelming.

You end up shrugging your shoulders slightly, not being able to blame anything or anyone. Sometimes you can't, and Steve wants you to know that's okay.

He kisses your knuckles tenderly, embracing the quiet in the room, before reaching for your bowl. The ceramic scrapes against wood as he takes it away to discard and clean up, and in the meantime you find your way into the corner of the couch in the next room.

Steve's footsteps are light before he settles next to you. You let him scoot closer to you and slip an arm around your shoulders. "You don't need a reason to be upset," he says, coaxing you to lean into him more and get comfortable. His touch is hot, his breathing steady. You nod, the fabric of his shirt slightly shifts underneath your cheek. "I know you think you do. Can I do anything?" He's careful with his words, he plants a kiss to the top of your head.

Something twists in your chest and pokes at your eyes.

"Staying here would be good," your voice cracks involuntarily near the end, and you take a gasp of air as you fight against the beginning of a sob. But it's too late, because it's flowing down your cheeks. Your shoulders shake silently, but Steve doesn't let go. He wraps his other arm around you and lets you cry into him, relieved that you're not ignoring it anymore.

The crook of his shoulder and head is dark and hot, each of your exhales adding a degree of heat. But his hand rubs your back in small circles, and he's whispering something to you. You can't hear the words, but his tone is loving and understanding. The hand on the move finally rests at the top of your back, by your neck.

The weight of his arms helps you to relax after a while, the tense, stuffy hopelessness from earlier expelled from your chest. Your breathing returns to normal, but you're hesitant to show your face. "We can stay here," Steve says, stroking your head. You tighten your grip around him, and he does the same for you.

When you do lift your face up, bracing yourself on his chest, he pulls some stray hair from your eyes and mouth, his hand lovingly holding your cheek. You inhale deeply, and thank him.

"No 'thanks' necessary. We can't be happy all the time," he says. "Tell me when you feel like this. We can work it out together, okay?" His smile is caring, his touch tender. You lean into it. "Okay."

[capseycartwright]

okay but buck and eddie + "pretending you're going to kiss your best friend to see how they're going to react, they grab your face and kiss you back" from the kissing prompts

Eddie would, without question, move heaven and earth to make Christopher happy. It’s not something he’s ever had to doubt about himself - Christopher is his main priority in life, and Eddie would stand on his head for hours if it meant he got to see his son smile. All that being said - he might have bitten off more than he could chew, with this one.

Christopher was in El Paso for a week. Pepa had been going there anyway, and she’d taken Chris to see Eddie’s parents - despite Eddie insisting he could take Chris himself. Their work schedule wasn’t too bad, that week, and they had three days off in a row without having to use any vacation time, so he could have flown out there, but Pepa - and abuela - had insisted Eddie take some time for himself, which was not something he was very good at, so instead, Eddie had decided to surprise Christopher with a total room makeover.

Chris was the definition of a tweenager - he was hitting the age where everything was starting to be totally embarrassing (Christopher’s words, not Eddie’s) and so he thought his room was too childish. It’s just - Eddie hadn’t had the time, before now, to clear the room out, repaint it, replace all the furniture - the works.

Buck had been on board from the second Eddie had suggested it, and three trips to the hardware store, a whole day of painting Christopher’s room a seafoam green, and one very stressful trip to Ikea later, Eddie was sitting on the floor of his sons room, Buck looking entirely too self-satisfied as he pointed out Eddie was definitely building Christopher’s new desk wrong.

Eddie glared at his best friend. “Did you look at these instructions? It’s not exactly my fault that I put it together wrong,” he huffed, throwing the crumpled paper at Buck. “There’s pictures, and no words.”

“That’s supposed to make it easier, Eddie,” Buck said, smoothing out the instructions. “Come on, it can’t be that bad. We’re firefighters, we’re not going to be defeated by flat-pack furniture. Well, I won’t be - I don’t know about you.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “You’re real cute, Buckley.”

Buck looked up, grinning. “Aw, you think I’m cute?” he teased, making kissy-faces at Eddie, leaning in impossibly close - close enough that Eddie could feel the huff of his breath against Eddie’s own cheek, close enough for Eddie to be able to study every flutter of Buck’s eyelashes. “You think I’m cute. You think I’m the cutest ever,” he continued, his laughter genuine and bright, filling in every crack of Eddie’s heart as always. “You think I’m cute, and you want to kiss me.”

Buck was probably joking, Eddie realised - but something about his words, they made something snap inside of Eddie.

His feelings for Buck, they had changed, a long time ago - in hindsight, part of Eddie had to wonder if their friendship had ever truly been totally platonic, given how deep the connection was, from day one - but Eddie had really accepted he had been in love with his best friend right after he’d gotten shot. The moment the bullet had torn through his shoulder had been a strange one - it was as though Eddie’s life, past, present, and future, had played on some sort of desperate, sped-up, movie-style preview, and his heart and brain had gone into overdrive. He hadn’t been sure of what it had meant, until he’d woken up and seen Ana where he wished Buck was, and he’d only lasted a few more days before breaking it off with Ana.

(“It’s Buck, isn’t it?” she’d asked, more perceptive than Eddie had given her credit for. It felt like the movement took every ounce of strength in his body, but Eddie had nodded. “I hope it works out, Eddie,” had been the last thing she’d ever said to him.)

But Buck had been with Taylor - and he’d been happy, for a long while, until they’d broken up pretty amicably. They’d wanted different things, out of life - Buck wanted a family, a house in the suburbs and a happily ever after, and Taylor’s vision of her future hadn’t looked like that.

(“It was too big a difference, to find a compromise on,” Buck had shrugged. “I want a family - she doesn’t. It wouldn’t be fair to ask each other to change our minds on that - but we’re still friends, and I’ll be okay.” He’d sounded so sure, that Eddie was helpless to do anything except believe him.)

The breakup had been months ago, now, and Buck had all but moved in, since, spending all his time with Eddie and Christopher and all those feelings Eddie had buried for the six and a half months Buck and Taylor had dated for had come back with a vengeance, and Eddie had felt like he was drowning in how much love he felt for Buck.

So maybe Buck was joking -

But Eddie wasn’t, when he dived across the floor and cupped Buck’s face in his hands, pressing his lips to Buck’s in a desperate, urgent kiss. He’d imagined so many versions of their first kiss - slow, and romantic, exchanged over dinner, desperate and hurried, exchanged in the midst of an emergency. Eddie had never imagined this - never imagined the way Buck was frozen, in Eddie’s grasp, never imagined feeling too scared to pull back because he was worried that would be the first, and last, time he ever got to kiss Buck.

Eventually - Eddie had to pull back.

“I’m sorry,” he managed, trying to wrack his brain for an excuse for his behaviour. Could he blame it on the paint fumes, maybe? Say that they’d addled his brain and gotten him a little high? They hadn’t worn masks, when they painted, after all.

Buck’s grip on his wrists was tight, stopping Eddie from moving away. “Do you think I don’t want this, Eddie?” he asked, his cheeks flushed an adorable shade of pink, eyes wide and sincere as he looked at Eddie.

Eddie had never felt more embarrassed in his life. “You didn’t kiss me back,” he pointed out, wishing Buck would let him move away.

“You didn’t give me a chance to,” Buck said, and before Eddie could say anything else, Buck was kissing him again, slow and unhurried, as though they had all the time in the world to do this, to figure out how best to fit together.

Eddie couldn’t help the surprised noise he made against Buck’s mouth as the younger man pulled him into his lap, the way Buck’s strong hands gripped his thighs and easily maneuvered him unfamiliar - but not unwelcome. “Do you really want this?” he found himself asking, steadying himself by holding tightly to Buck’s shoulders.

He’s not sure he’d ever sat in someone's lap before, as an adult. It was kind of nice.

Buck nuzzled his face against Eddie’s neck, breathing deeply for a second. “I’ve wanted you for so long, Eddie,” he admitted. “I can’t remember how it feels to not want you - to not want this, us, our family, forever.”

“Our family,” Eddie echoed softly, brushing Buck’s sweaty, gel-free hair back off his forehead.

“Is that okay?”

Eddie nodded, leaning in to kiss the worry off Buck’s forehead. “It’s more than okay, Buck. It’s perfect.”

(It was hours later, when Eddie looked in the door of Christopher’s bedroom, a half-naked Buck doing his best to distract him as Eddie surveyed the wreckage of half-built flat-pack furniture littering Christopher’s floor.

“Chris is home tomorrow,” Eddie sighed, reaching back to run a hand through Buck’s hair. “We really need to finish.”

Eddie didn’t need to look at his best friend to know the younger man was grinning. “How do you feel about getting a TaskRabbit, Eds?”)

[daevastanner]

Gwynriel Relationship Headcanons

After they become an item (not realize they are mates but become a public couple) the inner circle are completely thrown by the change they see in Azriel

Whenever he enters a room or arrives at a party with Gwyn he’s always in the midst of a laugh or trying to catch his breath after a fit of laughter no doubt provoked by Gwyn

He no longer stands with his hands carefully folded behind his back or in front of him, but always touching Gwyn in someway. Either their fingers brushing or intertwined, or with his hand on the small of her back

Azriel never talks about his visits with his mother, but after he starts taking Gwyn with him he is always eager to tell the inner circle everything. How Gwyn made his mother smile or laugh.

Gwyn loves Azriel’s mother. The female has her good moments and her bad moments and Gwyn weathers both expertly. She knows how to treat people who have experienced trauma with the proper amount of compassion without being smothering

Gwyn and Azriel’s mother both share a love of books, and most of the mystery and adventure books Gwyn has read so has Azriel’s mother. He hasn’t seen his mother so actively involved in conversation in decades.

Sometimes Gwyn will suggest or even beg that they visit his mother and he is always happy to oblige. She tells his mother stories about Azriel and jokes with her

Albeit she saves her dirtier humor for Azriel

At dinners and formal events, if you ever see Gwyn whisper something to Azriel it’s usually something fucking filthy. More of an effort to break his stony facade than to turn him on

“Azriel.”

“Yes.”

“How do you make a billiards table laugh?”

“Gwyn, we’re at a charity dinner...”

...

😏 “Tickle its balls.”

Azriel:

Once Gwyn feels comfortable with her sexuality again, there is no stopping her from squeezing Azriel’s butt in public. She’s very sneaky and no one catches her. To this day, it confuses the IC when Gwyn will pass behind Azriel and his face will suddenly turn bright red

Azriel’s “moves” don’t work on Gwyn, and it’s a constant source of amusement not only for her but for Cassian

If Azriel winks at her she blanches. If he says a pickup line she laughs. Anytime he flexes she snorts. And Azriel loves the challenge and for the first few years they are together he enjoys figuring out what makes her blush

If you see Azriel lean over and whisper something to Gwyn that makes her blush, he’s usually said something sincerely affectionate

“I can’t take my eyes of you tonight”

“Your laughter is beautiful”

“You look nice”

“I like your smile”

Or her favorite “You are the funniest person in this room, Berdara.”

That’s her favorite nickname, by the way. She loves when he calls her “Berdara.”

Cassian and Azriel used to take lunch together almost every single day, but now half the time Azriel eats lunch with Gwyn in the vacant temple (he doesn’t want to enter the library and alarm the priestesses)

When they finish lunch they always make time to enjoy the temple’s acoustics and sing a duet or two. They know they’re talented and it is not uncommon for them to shake hands or high five when they finish singing

If you find them hanging out together, it’s usually a quiet affair. Both of them reading but still holding hands. Quiet strolls with the occasional whisper or laugh

It’s the bedroom where they are loud - and in more ways than one

They are reigning champions of pillow talk. They never fall out of that habit even when decades pass. They said “goodnight” probably eleven times before the actually go to sleep because they can always think of more things to talk about

And they have had to place a silencing charm on their chambers in the House of Wind because they will laugh that hard at two in the morning

On a darker note, Azriel no longer pulls his “self destructive bull shit” where he insists on pushing himself to his breaking point out of a misplaced sense of duty or nobility

He tears a wing right before a recon mission but insists he go anyway, despite Rhysand’s protests that it’s too big a risk

The second Gwyn catches wind of this dumb decision she charges into his office and chews his ass out till he’s hanging his head and reluctantly agreeing with her

A lot about the way Azriel does his job changes because of Gwyn. He takes less risks and becomes a better strategist. His fighting style improves too as they study the Valkyries together and combine techniques

Their first real fight comes from Gwyn’s first mission. She, Emerie and Nesta are tasked with bringing in some Illyrian bandits.

Azriel’s shadows tell him that the bandits are putting up a solid fight against the Valkyries and he comes running

He interferes in the conflict “saving” Gwyn, Nesta, and Emerie and while the latter two are only irritated he stepped in, Gwyn is furious

She reminds him that she handled the Blood Rite without him and that he knows firsthand how good she is in combat.

Then she gives him a staggering realization when she asks “Would you have jumped in if I were a male Illyrian recruit? Or would you have let me fight my way out?”

Azriel has never stopped to consider he may have some internalized misogyny despite his active goals for equality.

He counters her that he is not in love with any of his recruits, but he does acknowledge his tendency to feel the need to rescue any females that have been offended or are in distressed

From that day forward he lets Gwyn and all of the other Valkyries fight their own battles. He does not lend a hand unless asked or unless it is absolutely necessary

One night at the river house Azriel realizes, that like with Feyre and Rhysand and Cassian and Nesta, that Gwyn brings out the best in him

And he decides “who gives a shit about mating bonds?”

He and Gwyn are perfectly matched and incandescently happy - so what if they aren’t mates?

And then he spies Gwyn looking at him from across the room with an expression he doesn’t recognize

It’s like she’s seeing him for the first time. She seems shocked, delighted, and... is that a tear?

He inclines his head to ask if she is alright and she nods that she is. He smiles back at her. She is the most perfect thing in the room.

Oh gods, Gwyn thinks as Azriel resumes conversation with his brother. She smiles to herself. How do I tell him?

[anddreadful]

okay full thoughts, which no one wanted or asked for, on the HM movie. credentials: i am a big weird haunted mansion nerd. warning for mild spoilers

the scene-level writing was very, very bad. it felt like they had plot beats sketched out and the actors improvised around that and the CGI artists improvised around that

they not only included one million things from the ride as cute nods (expected), they did a pretty good job of organizing the scattered lore and random bits of the ride into the backbone of the plot (less expected), which i appreciated as the target audience for that effort (at least one lesson was learned from the eddie murphy version, i guess)

though the direct recreation of the attic scene means we have the same problem with the attic scene as I do in the ride, which is that it has nothing to do with anything else and i don't think Constance is that interesting!!! give me spooky nameless glowing heart bride or give me death!

i loved jamie lee curtis russian princess leota IRL but why was her makeup in crystal ball form a) cgi b) horrible

the CGI was noticeably bad overall. just really rough

the costumes were a bright spot in an otherwise pretty poor production. i mean, i clocked that a bunch of shots were straight up out of focus, and I'm not a cinephile who's looking for those things. but all the different ghosts looked great in their little outfits! and the contemporary costumes were unique and interesting!

i loved that the story didn't shy away from having many (attempted) beats of emotional sincerity! and the theme about grief! those were the right ideas! shame almost none of those scenes landed!

making fun of the dinner theater guy was the funniest thing in the movie. really everything that happened in mansion #2 rocked and I loved it

speaking of which: owen wilson in an overlarge fireplace in a haunted mansion with a secret compartment below it where the ghost baddie hid the bodies...... The Haunting (1999) reference????

SPEAKING OF WHICH: the kid getting spooked by a tarantula in that scene........ eddie murphy haunted mansion reference??????

okay that one's a stretch but it does bring to mind how the zombie/ spider scene in that movie was gnarlier than anything in this movie by far

bananas that they set up danny devito having a heart condition and having no friends outside of the main characters and being obsessed with the mansion but he doesn't die and become a ghost ??

look. i know it's a kids movie but someone needed to die and hang around as the Ghost Friend. i don't make the rules

this movie should have been pg-13 and substantially spookier. it tried hard to be funny and mostly failed, but it didn't make any attempt at all at the slow dread and not-explicitly-ghostly creepiness that embodies the first half of the ride.

speaking of which: this is disney adult insider baseball but the whole tizzy with adding the hatbox ghost to the ride before the seance scene, breaking the ride lore/ narrative, kind of, sort of, is even funnier in context of the movie and HBG being a nominal movie tie-in because it makes that choice make even LESS sense.

(that said fwiw i don't really care about it, there's not really a good place to insert him and i don't think the narrative element that's at risk here as such makes an impact on 99.99% of people's experiences)

(like. i love the haunted mansion ride so much but little leota doesn't make any sense either. it's all fine)

the movie DID do a pretty good job of representing the 'celebratory ghostly chaos' element of the ride which was nice to see captured, and 'being a ghost rocks and we want to hang here and party' is indeed the correct ending for almost any haunted mansion-derivative story I can think of. the eddie murphy version explicitly sending everyone to heaven was, uh, bad

GULAG for everyone involved in the product placement. jail 100 years. the ADRed-in line about baskin robbins in the midst of the monologue about how Ben's wife died? a war crime

in the end, the muppets haunted mansion movie is still the superior ride adaptation. see you in 2050 when they try again though

whoever is responsible for all the truly egregious brand placements in the new haunted mansion should be drawn and quartered. scariest thing in that movie was the capitalist synergy

[joyfulhopelox]

Board-shorts and Choppy Waves | KTH

╰►Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

╰►AU: summer love, meet cute, surf, s2l, i2l

Genre: fluff, with a tiny bit of angst

Rating: pg

╰►Word count: 17.6k

Warnings: mild swearing

╰►A/N: This is my contribution to the Summer of Love Collab, a collab i had not intended to be in but it just so happened that i fell in love with the story and i had to write it, the banner really did not come out as I'd planned but such is life! But be prepared for two idiots to fall in love. Where The Holiday (summer version) meets Gidget! I want to thank @notyouroppar for being not only the most amazing person for reading this over for me but also for fuelling my hype! secondly i want to thank everyone in this collab for being amazing and last but not least i want to thank @hobipaint and @yoonjinkooked for helping me get through this and for believing in this Taehyung!

Did I use Umji as inspiration for Ye Won? Yes. Is Taehyung’s surfer squad the almost complete real life Wooga Squad? Yes. That being said, enjoy! 💜

Copyrights for the story and banner @joyfulhopelox

╰►Summary: A city girl through and through, not used to anything but the hustling and bustling of the streets. From people with phones attached to their hands, the only accompanying noise you had on your way to work was the honking of angry drivers. However, even someone with a devil-may-care attitude can be fed up with such a life. In a desperate attempt to escape, you embark on a crazy adventure that leads you to Hawaii - on a surfboard! Living under someone else’s roof, you find that this may not have been the break that you strived for when the annoying brother comes into play. Riding a wave is like riding the subway, he told you, yet why did his hand holding yours feel like riding a rollercoaster?

Between a job that kept you tied to your desk, and a job that required you to run around town, trying to please everyone and their mother with your projects, you would’ve chosen the former. Correction, now you would choose the former one.

As a bright eyed child though, you’d chosen the latter. And somewhere in between trying to meet the producers– your hands overflowing with a stack of papers which balanced a precariously placed cup of coffee, and a video call with the actor’s managers– who had the audacity to request a jacuzzi on set, you were beginning to regret the decision.

“Yes, yes. I got it!” Weaving expertly through the hectic flow of people coming out from the subway, you tried to grip the phone tighter between your ear and shoulder. “No, no, unfortunately we cannot agree to those requests.” Humming in response, your ears painfully assaulted from the other end of the line, you apologised as your shoulder bumped into another and carried on without waiting for a response. As much as you wanted to stay and apologise, you didn’t have the time. If you learned one thing in this job, it was that lateness was not viewed nicely. As a newbie in the field, your punctuality has been subject to disapproval more than once.

“We shall see what we can do about that.” Not bothering to wait for the response on the other end of the line, you ended the conversation thankful for your balancing skills. Phone now added onto the pile, you continued weaving through the flow of people coming your way. Realising you hadn’t checked the time, you urged your legs to go faster, cursing that you decided to wear heels on a busy day like this. No matter how nice they made you feel, a day spent in pain whilst trying to be efficient was not worth it.

The building where your fate was sealed seemed to loom over you. Gazing up at it you swallowed, your throat dry. You knew without conviction you would get nowhere in the industry, and so with new resolve you made your way through the glass doors. Show time.

It only took a few hours for your blood pressure to rise to dangerous levels. Ever since walking through that door, it felt like nothing went the way you’d imagined it to. The meeting that was supposed to start on time was so delayed, you had to postpone the following meeting with the agent representing your newest addition to the cast. The rest tumbled down with the speed of an avalanche. Not having signed up to run around in heels for coffee, and especially not when you were one of the people meant to pitch the new series, your feet were throbbing and your patience wore thin.

The cherry on top of the cake was the call you received at the end of the day from your boss. It wasn’t an unexpected call, but dare you say, untimely. The call was short and sharp, delivering the blows that would ultimately lead to accepting your friends’ invite for a bar night.

The bar where you usually met your friends was surprisingly empty, though you suspected it was because it was the middle of the week. The few groups that littered the area made it easy for you to spot your obnoxious pair of friends. It seemed they were already on their second round of drinks, judging by the number of empty glasses and Georgie’s animated talk.

“I swear that’s what happened!” As you made your way towards the group, you heard Kate declare her ridiculousness with sincerity as the rest laughed at her. With a roll of your eyes, you slid in next to her.

“What did I miss?” You cheerfully interrupted their storytelling, sharing ‘hello’s’ with them and the obligatory catch up of mundane stories.

Taking a careful sip out of your drink you silently observed the ruckus they created around the table, their cheerful loud voices making you smile inwardly. You missed this.

“So, Y/N, how is that promotion going for you?” Georgie leaned over the table, seemingly to make herself heard over the loud music. Yet, by the suspicious raise of her eyebrows you were aware of what she had been implying. Your almost-fling with your boss.

“Georgie – no.” You shook your head, your attempt to shut down the conversation a poor one at best. “We are not going there.” Taking another sip of your drink you tried to come up with something to deter them from prodding further.

“Oh come on!” Kate insisted, her eyes wide. “You live like a prude married to their work most of the time,” She waved you away when you tried to poke her. “The one time you aren’t and you have a small chance at dating!” She exclaimed and you reached out to cover her mouth.

“Shush it, will you? Any louder and everyone in the bar will hear about my dating plight.” You argued back, frustrated with the situation you’d landed yourself in.

“-He’s my boss.” You countered, knowing full well that if you didn’t explain at least part of your reasoning, there was no way this would end. “Plus –“ you held out your hand to stop them from interrupting you. “He already has a girlfriend.” You took another long sip of your drink, satisfied with the way their faces dropped.

Georgie, to her credit, decided to keep her opinions to herself, occupying her time with swirling her own drink around. However, Kate, whom you’d known the longest, stared at you, eyes narrowed as if trying to figure you out.

“So what was that dinner about then?” She prodded further and you sighed, dramatically lowering your glass onto the table.

“Look, that dinner–“ You leaned forwards fixing them both with your gaze, a small smile forming on your face. “Was definitely about a promotion.” You said conspiratorially.

Unprepared for the joyful hoots from your friends, you leaned back as they both scrambled to hug you. They had been your best friends since college and they knew you better than anyone, especially the struggles you had to go through to even break into the film industry and get the position you were in now. Let alone a promotion.

By no means were you in a bad position, it definitely kept you in the city, and you could afford a good two bedroom apartment near Central London. but remembering the way you had to run around for coffee, not being able to refuse tasks left a bitter taste in your mouth. Definitely this promotion would not only open more doors for you, but also allow you to say no. The joy you felt as soon as you got the call earlier that evening washed away the pain of your blistered feet, and with a renewed spring in your step you had gone to the bar to share your good news with your friends.

“Oh my God, Y/N!” Kate exclaimed, clapping her hands enthusiastically. “This is amazing, you definitely needed this! How soon will you be filling the new role?” She inquired and your mood dropped instantly, reality washing over you.

Disentangling yourself from her hug, you sighed. “It’s a possibility, it’s not yet certain.” Your voice sounded gloomy, knowing full well that a possibility was not a certainty. “I still have to see this project through.” Tapping your fingers to the side of your glass you continued. “It’s a long few months of waiting now. I have done my job, all that needs to happen now is for the rest of them to do their job.”

Georgie looked at you empathetically, she knew what you meant. She, herself, was in a similar position to you. The silence that followed between the three of you was not uncomfortable by any means. The bass of the music pounding around you kept you company, an unneeded headache. But worth it if it meant you got to talk to your friends.

“So…” She trailed off, her eyes scouring the fuller bar. “What will you be doing now?” Turning her attention back to you, she raised her eyebrows at you. “Date? Holiday?”

The question took you by complete surprise, drink still in your mouth in the midst of swallowing, you struggled to not choke. Kate patted your back, an almost sympathetic look crossed over her face, only to be quickly replaced by a smirk. “No but seriously, Y/N.” Glaring at the both of them for ganging up on you, you shrugged.

“I have no intentions to be dating, and you know that.” You pointed at them, eyes narrowed. “As for holiday…” You trailed off. You couldn’t even remember the last time you had a holiday. Sure, you took your required days off, but you never left your apartment during those days. And to be completely honest, you only used them to catch up on work you did not get to do during the week, respond to emails you didn’t get a chance to, and order the occasional takeaway with a film in the evenings. But even that could count more as work than relaxing. Being in the film industry, you rarely found yourself enjoying a production without thinking about the ins and outs that went on behind the scenes to put it all together. The thought of an actual holiday has never even crossed your mind.

“-I do take holidays.” You weakly argued, but when you met the girls’ eyes you shrugged noncommittally. “Look, I can’t afford to.” You simply provided. That reason seemed to be enough to quieten them both, until Kate jumped up.

“I know!” She exclaimed, her palm slapping the table hard. “How about a house exchange?”

You stared at her oddly, wondering how much she’d had to drink, but she didn’t seem flushed, nor to be staggering on her feet. Instead of insulting her with questions about her sobriety you waited for her to explain herself. “You know, like, the ones where you do it through an agency.” She supplied, but at your furrowed eyebrows she sighed. “Kind of like an AirBnB, but this one is about you contacting a person who is willing to exchange their horse for a short period of time, and you are providing them with yours as a payment.”

At her explanation, your eyes went wide with surprise, your mouth hanging open. “Wha-?” It baffled you, the idea that someone would willingly not only supply you with their house, their sanctuary, but also they would agree to come and live in a stranger’s house. “What sort of scam is this?” You finally settled.

“It’s not a scam!” Georgie jumped in, the tone of her voice betraying her excitement. “My friend did it, and she loved it!” You watched her with a careful eye, trying to decide if both of your friends had had too much to drink. At your unconvinced look, Georgie sighed.

“Look, it’s worth thinking about it, you get to see pictures of the house first, and also talk to the owner beforehand. It’s not like you have no contact with them before you even get there.” She stated, carefully watching your expression turn thoughtful. As much as you enjoyed the idea of being able to live in someone else’s house, without paying too much for it, you had trust issues. You couldn’t just let anyone in your own home, just like that.

“Is there insurance? What about a contract? Will I be able to go anywhere? What if they steal something?” Before you could continue with your incessant worries, Kate interrupted you, a hand on your arm.

“Of course, there is insurance. This is all done through an agency, it is not like you email a stranger out of the blue-” At your unconvinced expression she carried on. “And there is a contract, and background checks, and you do get to pick which place you want to choose.” She breathed a loud sigh. “Look, Y/N, this may be a good time for you to take a break.” She patted your arm as if that would have convinced you that what she was saying was true.

Well, it was true, but they both knew you were a workaholic. It would take more than that to get you to let go of your responsibilities and take care of yourself first. Georgie followed Kate’s suit, her words sealing your fate.

“And you don’t want to date, so this is the best way to make sure that you take care of your own needs first.” Your alarmed expression made her continue. “You need a break, you have nothing else to do but wait, all you will do is worry and fret.” She waved her hand around as if to disperse the worries and fears mentioned.

“And-” Georgie leaned forward as if to share a secret and you mirrored her movement. “Think about it this way, you’ve always wanted to go to Hawaii.” She smirked and you let your mouth drop, her idea already a seed in your mind.

She was right, Hawaii has always been a place you wanted to visit, never having the time or money to do so. This would be perfect for you. Still worried you nodded your head, enough for her to lean back a satisfied look on her face. She knew her job was done, but she couldn’t help but add. “And you never know, you may find your Surfer Charming there.” Georgie wiggled her eyebrows at you making Kate laugh and you narrowed your eyes at her, an offended look on your face.

“Georgie!” You then realised what she implied earlier. “Also, how does dating have anything to do with me taking a break?” You sounded indignant, and the three of you burst out laughing.

It took a few weeks for you to remember this conversation. They had been right, all you did during that period was fret, wait, and call people more than once trying to figure out if everything was going on as planned. These calls earned you more than a few groans and even some rejected your calls after the tenth time you tried to reach them within a day.

Deciding you’d had enough of your own brain, you chanced a look at the website Kate mentioned. The sight of all the reviews made you breathe out easier, of course you were going to head there first, the need to know how legit this whole business was too strong for you to get caught up in the lovely pictures littering the website. Once satisfied with the reviews you then let yourself fall into the hole, sinking in deep, and by the time dinner rolled round you had a few options you were considering as a potential. One in Europe, one in Asia, and one in Hawaii.

You bit your lip, this was one of the hardest decisions you had to make, the idea of doing this frightening. Needing more encouragement, you decided to call Kate once more to get her opinion on it, but before you could hit the dial, something caught your eye. The Hawaii exchange, the person in the bio stated they would prefer an exchange with someone from your own town, boring old London. Scrolling through the pictures once more, the airy feel of the house, along with the art that was tastefully decorating the space drew you in more and more. What sealed the deal in your eyes though, was the last picture, a view of a grand pool, the flowers that were scattered all around the garden giving you the feel of the paradise you craved. In the background the view of the ocean and the waves eased your worries and made your eyes glisten with hope. This was it.

Cursor over the email address, you read the name once more before you smiled to yourself.

‘Dear Ye Won,

I hope this email finds you well. I am writing in regards to the home exchange; I happened to come upon your one and I was instantly drawn to it….’

The morning came quicker than you expected, the sound of your alarm blaring throughout the airy beach house jolting you out of bed in an unpleasant manner. You cursed at the inanimate object for not only waking you up, but for being the reason you had to move out of your comfortable spot under the duvet to turn it off. Deciding your joints were not in pain today was an easy feat, you didn’t crumple to the ground like you had previously and you could turn your head without feeling like your head’s being pounded by a rock.

The flight over from London had not been a pleasant one, the crying child next to you hadn’t allowed you to close your eyes for a second. He was not at fault and you knew that, no one could last unscathed through an 18 hour flight; but, the throbbing headache you sported now was definitely blaming him. To make matters worse, the flight to Honolulu had been delayed enough that when you landed you had little to no time to spare before your flight over to Maui. You’d think that they would have more flights in a day towards such a popular destination, however, you were soon to find out that it was not the case.

Bags in hand, trying to multitask, desperately running towards what you assumed to be your gate, whilst checking the status of your flight as you passed by the information board– it was all a disaster waiting to happen. And when a disaster is waiting to happen, chances are it will. One moment you were skillfully dodging a passerby and the next you found yourself bumping into a solid chest, the wind knocked out of you. Derailed from your goal and with the pain of having bumped your nose into someone’s torso, it took you a good moment to realise what had happened.

“Tsk, look where you’re going.” The deep voice held the annoyance of someone who’d just been through a rough day, and normally you’d do your best to apologise. However, you’d had just as rough of a day and it was still not over, not to mention you were in a hurry. Pleasantries would have to wait.

“I’m late. And you could also look where you’re going.” You simply announced with a huff not bothering to look up, the tip of your nose still throbbing.

“Did I mention anything about your lateness, does it seem like I have time?” The man, judging by the voice, retaliated. You rubbed the tip of your nose to make sure that nothing was bruised before you glanced up, your eyes narrowed as the obvious rudeness of this person. The sight that greeted you was not what you’d expected, and once again, under normal circumstances you would have paused to gawk. He was beautiful, there was no other way to describe him. His light brown hair was quite shaggy, offering him an unkempt appearance, the bandana that tied around his head keeping his bangs from obstructing his eyes. And what eyes, his gaze locked onto yours, the ebony colour intensifying the coldness in them, you found yourself lost for words.

“Well, are you going to move out of the way?” He nodded his head impatiently as if that would simply remove you from his path. With those words, the bubble you were in completely dissipated, reality crashing down on you. You were still late. With a gasp, you didn’t bother responding to him; your grip tightened on your bag and you dashed around him, praying that those few minutes were not wasted and the flight hadn’t left without you.

Now, seated at the counter of the vast kitchen, a coffee cup in hand, you had time to think about the events from the airport. With a pained sigh you admitted to yourself you’d been the one in the wrong, not only having bumped into an innocent passerby, but also starting an argument with them instead of apologising and being on your merry way. You were certain that under normal circumstances you wouldn’t have reacted this way.

“Oh, well…” Muttering to yourself you took a last sip of your coffee thanking the stars the person who offered you the place had enough stocked to last you for a couple of days. Having arrived late last night, you hadn’t had the time to explore the area, let alone think about stocking up on food. To you, it felt like a holiday - and in a way you supposed it was, only you were without the ease of being in a hotel and having a restaurant at your doorstep.

The lack of traffic echoing in your ears felt unfamiliar, the stillness of the house reminding you of a horror film where the protagonist is only seconds away from being snatched. Only, you were not in an old abandoned house. One quick glance around told you a lot about the person that swapped homes with you. Their interest in art and interior design was clearly reflected in the way they had decorated the house. The rooms were wide and airy, yet the abundance of paintings and figurines scattered everywhere made it resemble an art gallery. Walking around trying to familiarise yourself with the house, you decided that this home would be your little piece of heaven for the next month. Especially when you reached the end of the house and stumbled upon a lovely back garden, the fence lined with palm trees and gardenias scattered all around a clear pool. Excitedly, you rushed back to your bedroom for your swimsuit. Exploring the area could wait a few more hours. You were on holiday, and what could be more holiday-esque than taking a dip in a pool, in Hawaii!

Deciding on the first suit that you came across, you debated whether or not you should cover yourself up until the pool, but before you could make a decision a loud thud coming from the front door jolted you.

With your heart pounding, you padded towards the corridor at the sound of a voice yelling “Ye Won! Open up!” as they kept pounding against the wooden door. Aware that it was not your house and afraid for the door’s hinges you ran to respond.

In a rush to get to the door before the person on the other end broke in, you had completely forgotten to cover yourself up. When the thought suddenly occurred to you, it was already too late. You had the front door wide open ready to greet whoever was one the other side.

“Thank God you responded I was ready to break the door- What the fu-” A deep voice greeted you and you couldn’t help but stare dumbfounded at the man standing in front of you. A very handsome man. His ebony eyes and light brown coloured hair looked too familiar for your liking.

“You- the airport- what?” He sputtered pointing at you, rubbing his eyes as if he was unable to believe the sight before him- and what a sight you were.

You felt as if the proverbial rug had been swept from under your feet. Once his words finally registered in your head you realised the promiscuous position you were in. Not only was the stranger you almost assaulted at the airport in front of you, but you were also standing there on display in a bikini. Your attempt to calm yourself down was futile, the adrenaline coursing through your veins giving way to your fight or flight reflexes. And you chose flight. With a shrill scream you didn’t think twice before slamming the door in his face, your heart threatening to pound out of your chest.

“Fuck.” What was he doing here?

You didn’t know how long you spent leaning on the door, heart in your throat, your mind devoid of any rational thought but when another pounding vibrated through you, it broke you out of your daze. Jumping up, you shook yourself off from any theories as to why the stranger you argued with in the airport could be there. Making sure you were presentable, with a trembling hand you reached for the door, hesitating.

“Open up!” With another loud pound against the wooden material that made you jolt away from the door, the man carried on yelling. “Open up or I am using the key, and I don’t care about whatever various states of undress you are in!” His voice turned dark towards the end, the huskiness in it making you shiver involuntarily. You weren’t a pushover, so with the intention to get him straight you swallowed your pride and opened the door abruptly, catching him mid knock.

“What do you want? Who are you and what are you doing here?” Tapping your foot impatiently, you resisted the urge to look at him more than necessary. Just like you did at the airport, you found him incredibly attractive. With his ruffled dark locks - this time tied in a bun at the top of his head, another bandana keeping the strays away from his face. His light coloured shirt contrasted greatly with his slightly tanned smooth skin and the boardshorts he was wearing were giving away a bit too much for your imagination to not run wild on you.

Mouth wide open, he didn’t offer you the same consideration, his eyes raking over your covered form, his intense dark gaze making you shift on spot. Arms crossed around your chest in an attempt to preserve your decency, you narrowed your eyes at him. “You come here, almost breaking the door down and don’t even have the decency to introduce yourself to the person living here?” You asked pointedly, your tone sharp, the annoyance clear in your voice.

“Just as you did when you bumped into me yesterday?” He was quick to retaliate, his stance mirroring yours. No one said anything for a few seconds, the air around you felt charged with electricity as you tried your hardest to not stray away from his dark brown eyes. You cocked an eyebrow mockingly, daring him to be the first one to break the staring match.

“Taehyung.” He conceded after a few more seconds, the weight of your stare too dangerous for his imagination. He had to admit you were beautiful, and the sight of your angered state made you even more attractive in his eyes. Deciding it was a biased opinion, he put it down to the fact that this is the only way he’s seen you up until then. The fiery glint in your eyes accentuated by rosy cheeks from the blood rushing to your face in anger.

Hearing his response and accepting it as defeat, you lowered your arms, a satisfied smirk on your face. But before you could loudly announce your win, he carried on, his response nailing you on the spot. “And this is my sister’s house.”

Eyes wide, you gaped at him. “This is what now?” You couldn’t believe your ears, his words ringing in your head as dread washed over you. “You mean to say, you live here?” You felt the telltale signs of anger readying a harsh email back towards the woman who exchanged houses with you.

Taehyung’s eyes widened, the preposterous idea making him guffaw. “What? No!” He was quick to refute. The clear panic in his voice at the thought was enough to make you sigh in relief, sending a mental apology towards Ye Won. “I’m here to see Ye Won, are you the maid?” He looked you up and down thoughtfully. “She did say she was going to get a maid, but if she’s not home I wouldn’t go around gallivanting–“ He pointed at the shift covering you, “up and down like this.”

With an indignant huff you wondered if Ye Won would be ok with you breaking her brother’s nose. Having exchanged emails with her for the better part of a month, you discovered she was not only a genuinely nice person but also considerate as she made sure to walk you through not only the house’s quirks, but also different customs in Hawaii and things to do to occupy your time. Though, you thought eyeing Taehyung with distrust, not that considerate.

“So–“ Taehyung glanced inside, his height making it easy for him to do so without struggling too much. “Where’s Ye Won?”

Scoffing at him you prepared to close the door in his face. “She’s not here, she’s in London.”

If you weren’t so annoyed at his earlier indiscretion you would’ve laughed at the way his face fell, mouth agape. “What do you mean she’s in London? Then why are you here?” He pointed at you accusingly.

“Look, it’s my first day here and I would like to spend it in a meaningful way.” You threw him a pointed look alluding to his behaviour from earlier. “If you want more details I am sure your sister can give them to you.” You placed a hand on his chest, pausing at the feel of muscle underneath your palm. Shaking yourself out of it, you reminded yourself you didn’t know this person, nor did you want to. “Now if you will excuse me.” You lightly pushed him out the doorway before shutting the door in his face.

“What a character.” You muttered, your thoughts completely taken over by the excitement awaiting you for the day.

“Kate, I’m telling you, it’s all fine. I have a long list Ye Won gave me of things to do.” Phone pressed to your ear, you reassured your friend on the other side of the ocean.

“And?” She inquired and paused hoping for more information from you. When the pregnant pause extended she sighed exasperated. “Y/N! Come on, you’re in Hawaii! What about any hot guys?”

You laughed at her, only for your thoughts to drift to the ponytailed devil you’ve met earlier. “Mnope.” You drawled, occupying yourself with the flowers in the garden. “Nothing worth mentioning.” At the whine on the other end, you felt the need to defend yourself. “Kate! I’ve only been here for a night! There is no way I could’ve met anyone in this amount of time. And also–“ you raised your voice trying to mask the blatant lie you just told her. “I am not here to meet anyone. I am here to relax.”

Kate snorted, the thought of you and relaxation in one sentence amusing to her. “You mean you will actually not think about work? Check emails? Fret about details?”

“Shhh, I know what you are trying to do.” You laughed at her ridiculousness. “Yes, I will rest. And no, I will not be hunting any men.” You added ending the call before she could speak her mind about your personal choice of staying single.

On second thought, you had absolutely no clue what you wanted to do. Going over the list Ye Won so kindly provided for you, you felt overwhelmed. It wasn’t that you weren’t any good with lists, you lived for them, your job relied on them more than you cared to admit. This list though, entailed you relaxing and having fun, two concepts which you’ve rarely experienced since leaving university.

“Not this,” your finger skimmed over the list, making a mental note to ask Ye Won what exactly did ‘going mental at the Sailor Jerry Festival’ meant. “Aha! Beach!” You exclaimed, face lighting up with excitement. “I know how to do that!” Glancing underneath the list of beaches your eyes caught her suggestion of what to do on said beaches. “Should I–?”

Smiling lightly to yourself, you nodded. Surfing. Look for Hyung Sik. Giddy at the thought of doing something out of the norm, you imagined what Katie and Georgie would say if they knew. Gathering your things you decided it was worth a try, if only to get yourself familiarised with the area and walk to the beach. Well, surf’s up I guess.

The road to the beach was littered with stalls ready to exhibit the best of what Hawaii had to offer, and you spent more than you had planned just in awe at the multitude of colours around you. The music and the atmosphere surrounded you fully, and you happily immersed yourself in the experience. For the first time in forever you felt free, the breeze coming from the ocean soothing your worries.

After a journey that took you an hour longer than intended, you reached the beach, your eyes scouring for the hut Ye Won mentioned. Past the showers, down towards the Surfer’s Den bar, you tried to remember the instructions written on the paper. Feet buried in the soft sand, your eyes wandered towards the way the soft waves broke as they reached their final destination, the music of the sea lulling you into a daydream.

“Yo-” The sound of someone yelling broke you out of your daze and you craned your neck to catch a glimpse of the source. “You’re gonna run into the tables.” Finally spotting the man waving at you, you stopped, your brain registering what he was trying to tell you. Looking around confusedly, you realised you were a few centimetres away from slamming into one of the tables that belonged to the bar.

“Oh,” squinting, you waved back to the man in thanks when your eyes caught the sign above his head. “Surf’s up.” You mumbled to yourself before your eyes lit up in recognition. “Oh! This is it!” You quickened your pace, hoping to reach the hut before you had the chance to change your mind. The man had his back towards you now, too preoccupied with a surfboard, the sheer size of it making you gulp.

“Uhm, excuse me.” You tried, your voice cracking. You didn’t know why you suddenly turned shy, you were used to talking to big names, people who could eat you for breakfast, you never faltered once. Why were you all of a sudden becoming a wallflower?

With new resolve, you tried again, your voice a notch higher. “Excuse me, are you Hyung Sik?” You asked as the man suddenly turned around, almost clocking you in the face with his elbow.

“Oh shit, I'm sorry.” He apologised, seeing your disgruntled expression. “No bubs, I’m not name’s Woo Sik.” Your heart sighed in relief at this, you could come another time, you promised yourself. But before you could turn around and run for the hills like you’d planned to, the man carried on, crushing your escape plan. “But he’s inside, I can bring him out for you.”

You wanted to tell him no and that it’s okay, but before you could utter a word he had already gone back inside, coming out with another person behind him. Wait. Another two people behind him. Were all the guys in Hawaii this hot? You questioned, the sight of their handsome faces making you freeze on spot.

“Here she is.” The man you spoke to before, Woo Sik, turned to one of the men following behind him. You assumed him to be Hyung Sik and you turned towards him, prepared to stick a hand out in greeting.

“Oh shit man, she is beautiful.” The man exclaimed and before you could decide whether you were flattered at the compliment or alienated by the thought of them talking about you behind your back, he rushed towards you, and pulled you into a friendly hug.

“Welcome to Surf’s up. I’m Hyung Sik, I’m assuming you are looking for a teacher?” He let go of you, hand still on your shoulder and you raised your eyebrow at him.

“What makes you think that, I could just be–“ you glanced at the sign behind him that read boards for hire. “Looking to hire a board...”

Hyung Sik looked you over for a second and you fought the urge to squirm under his gaze. “No offence bubs, but you look like a city person. We had one of them once,” he turned towards his friends and chuckled, “he’s a pro surfer now but, man, you city bros are so easy to read.”

The comical way in which he threw his hands up in mock frustration made you burst out laughing. You knew you should’ve taken offence at what he said, but you couldn’t find it in you. He seemed too genuine in his opinion for it to be an insult. And it’s not like he was wrong.

“Right, yes, I am looking for a teacher.” You nodded, sheepishly.

“Well bubs, I would love to be yours, I have a feeling you’re a cool one, but unfortunately I have some business I need to take care of.” He sighed dramatically.

“Oh don’t I know that.” You laughed, preparing yourself to leave once more, the hope in your heart rekindled. If he was busy you would definitely have to come again later. “Well– Ye Won’s suggestion will have to wait then.” You spoke to yourself.

“Ye Won.” The man whom you haven’t been introduced to spoke, eyes gleaming with surprise. Hyung Sik let out a loud laugh at his friend’s obvious behaviour. The man was handsome, his crooked smile and short hair giving him an air of youth that you deemed attractive. But judging by his reaction, he was already spoken for so with a shrug you nodded.

“Hush man,” Woo Sik laughed, slapping his friend over the back, the sound of it making you wince. “This lovesick fool is Seo Joon. He may be handsome, but he’s a tool.” He filled you in.

You laughed, your eyes tearing up. Between your pearls of laughter and the men’s bickering you missed the new addition to your group. “Don’t worry, I deal with tools more than I care to admit.” You winked in Seo Joon’s direction, your eyes catching sight of the man behind him. “Speaking of tools- Taehyung“ you muttered rolling your eyes. The men looked at you confusedly, before said man made his presence known.

“Y/N. You're stalking me?” He took a step towards you, the smirk on his face infuriated you.

“Perfect timing, Taehyung.” Hyung Sik wound his arm around Taehyung’s shoulders. “You got a new student.” He looked at his friend pointedly, and you had a feeling it was not a request as much as it was a command.

Taehyung prepared himself to object before you stepped in. “Oh no no, it’s ok. I can come back another time.” You tried to escape out of it, the prospect of having Taehyung as an instructor was not sitting well with you.

“Nonsense. He may be an ass, but he’s the best surfer we have.” Seo Joon smiled at you reassuringly before he lightly kicked his friend in the shin. “Stop staring.” He said amusedly, bringing your attention back to Taehyung.

“He may be a good surfer.” You said unconvincingly, “but that doesn’t make him a good teacher.” You shrugged at Taehyung’s now offended expression.

“Ohhhh I like her, can we keep her?” Woo Sik laughed, throwing his arm around your shoulders making you blush.

Taehyung looked pointedly at his friend’s arm around you before he grabbed your forearm and pulled you to him. “Fuck off Woo Sik. I’ll show you a good teacher.”

Before you could protest, he pulled you away, marching towards the side of the hut, you in tow. His friends’ laughter and teasing comments from behind were not lost to your ears. “Careful Taehyung, you may end up drowned in the ocean.”

“Right, first, you need to-” Taehyung started, only to realise he had been speaking into thin air, your form already ahead of him, ready to reach the water. “Oi!” He yelled after you, the panic settling into his heart. The waves were too dangerous for you to get in there straight away. Sprinting he ran as fast as he could, grabbing your shoulder right before you could reach the edge of the sand. “What do you think you are doing?” He huffed, trying to catch his breath.

Looking in between him and the water confusedly, you pointed at it as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “I’m uh, taking a dip?” You stared at him, eyes narrowed. “What do you think you’re doing?” You pointed at him, his shirt having unbuttoned after his mad sprint. You would’ve lied if you said it wasn’t distracting, the sight of his collar bones drawing imagery in your head you didn’t wish to have.

“Hyung Sik gave me you as a student, and we are going to learn how to surf. And this” he pointed at you, giving you a chastising look as if you were a petulant child, “is not how you do it.”

“Did I agree with you being my teacher?” You huffed, the idea of being alone with him, in water not sitting well with you. “You can learn how to surf, I will just enjoy my time swimming until someone else is available to teach me.”

Taehyung stared at you, your stubbornness shocking him into silence. “Y/N, you’re a bore.” He shrugged and you gaped at him, offended by what he was implying.

“I am not!” You almost stomped your foot, only stopping yourself when you remembered you were a grown adult not a child. “I can have fun, thank you very much.” Taehyung cocked his eyebrow, the unconvinced expression on his face spurring you on in an attempt to defend yourself. “I once went rock climbing!” You proudly declared, hoping that this would be enough to redeem yourself. You didn’t know why you felt the need to prove him wrong, but the impulse had been there ever since you met him.

“Oh, right. And let me guess, you’ve never done it again after that?” He teased you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Feeling the need to defend yourself you almost lied, ready to tell him that you had done it multiple times after that, but in reality you knew it was not true. So with your head slightly lowered you mumbled a response.

“Ah, I knew it. Tell you what?” He proposed and you looked up at him, your breath catching in your throat. The way the morning sun caught his brown eyes, making them sparkle, made him look devilishly handsome in your eyes. If it was not for his attitude, you would have probably went for Georgie’s advice and tried to flirt, but this was a hopeless case. “I will make you lose that stuck up city shell in a couple of days.” He proposed, the smug smile on his face egging you on.

You didn’t know what possessed you to agree with it, it may have been your desire to prove him wrong, it may have been your guilty pleasure of being near him, but you readily grabbed his hand and shook it, sealing the deal.

“Fine. Now-” You looked at the ocean, the prospect of being on them on a plank making you gulp. “Where do we start?” You glanced at him, the defiance replaced with uncertainty. You were out of your element, and you were ready to admit that.

Taehyung stifled a laugh at your constipated expression, his heart warming at the thought of you placing his trust in him, regardless of your previous encounters. “Not here, City Girl.” He winked, his hand still in yours, he pulled you further in. “We need to get you used to being on the board first. And those waves will do nothing but swallow you whole.” He pulled you towards the sand, his board already placed on it in position.

“Oh so you are not putting me on a plank in the sea like pirates do huh?” You jokingly nudged him, shoulders more relaxed at the thought of being on land for the time being. Taehyung couldn’t help but laugh at your joke and as he motioned for you to stand on the board he added.

“Nah, we only make you walk the plank as an experienced surfer. For the moment you are a swabby.” He nudged you with his shoulder, making you lose your balance. “Oh lord, we need to work on that.” He sighed and you whined indignantly.

“I was not prepared! I swear my balance is better than that.” Trying to prove him wrong you went to get yourself back into position, only to miscalculate how soft the sand underneath your feet was. With a loud yelp you hurtled towards him, hand barely grazing his shoulder in a futile attempt to steady yourself, and you landed painfully on your knees. Mortified at having displayed such graceful behaviour in front of him you groaned.

“Told you.” Taehyung smiled at you and offered his hand to help you up. Pulling you back onto your feet, you steadied yourself and before the smell of him combined with the scent of the beach could throw you into a daze, you stepped away from him with an awkward cough.

“So what do I do?” You could have cursed yourself for sounding so shy, but the nerves that were piling ever since you arrived at the beach got the better of you. Smirking at you, Taehyung pulled you back onto the board.

“Well, now that I’ve witnessed you fall for me once, let’s work on your balance.” Gaping at his brazen attitude you bit back a snarky remark, settling for cursing him under your breath as you deliberately stepped on his feet.

The rest of the day, you spent in agonising pain, your feet on the board and the sun beating down on your back, your mind muddled with thoughts of the man who happened to have lost his shirt due to the heat, as he put it.

“So we are done?” You couldn’t help but blink at him in gleefulness. The prospect of being near him for longer than necessary made your heart beat out of your chest.

Taehyung laughed at your hopeful expression, undecided whether the small bursts of happiness he felt were because he was just about to burst your bubble or if it was something else.

“Oh no, this is not a one time lesson.” He picked up the surfboard, his warm hand on your naked lower back pushing you towards the ocean.

“We are going to be here for a while.” He smiled at you innocently, and your breath caught in your throat as he leaned down, his breath fanning over your face with a carefree expression. “Every day.” Oh shit.

The morning came too quickly, and you struggled to get yourself out of bed. The prospect of getting more bruised and battered than you were already was not an incentive. Thinking of the previous days of activities reminded you of the man that promised you a fun week. Taehyung drove you up the wall in more ways than one. Half the time you didn’t know whether you wanted to throttle him or kiss him; his demeanour giving you whiplash every time you argued with him. You couldn’t say you had a normal conversation with him since you’d met. First, the airport where he more than readily called you an asshole, then his first appearance at his sister’s house when he called you a maid. The tip of the iceberg were the surfing lessons he’d been roped into by his friends.

Lessons where he insulted you and your skills, whilst his hands were resting on your naked skin, as he tried to steady you on the board. Remembering how his slender hands held you by your naked waist as he barked at you to hold yourself up all but made you groan in frustration. How could such an attractive man have such a sour personality? You couldn’t explain it to yourself, especially when his friends seemed to be the nicest people you’d ever met.

Thinking about their interactions, the brotherly link between all of them, the way Taehyung interacted with them, his carefree attitude and boyish smirk as they teased each other about one thing or another - gave you even more of a headache. Seeing him like this made you realise that there was more underneath the front he put up when talking to you, and you would be lying to yourself if you said his blaise attitude towards life didn’t draw you in.

A knock at the door broke you out of your thoughts, and you scrambled to get out of bed, your foot getting caught. Stumbling, you didn’t think twice about the way you looked, or the fact that you had just woken up; you headed straight towards the front door, opening it.

“Are you going to make it a habit to present yourself in the worst ways possible?” Taehyung’s amused tone greeted you and you yelped, the urge to shut the door once more too strong. But before you could give into the impulse, his foot stuck through the doorway and he slipped inside before you could do anything.

Humming quietly to himself, he made his way towards the pool as if this was his own home. In a way you supposed it was. “Uh, want some coffee?” You offered and he waved you off, not bothering to answer as he slipped outside. You rolled your eyes at his behaviour and turned around towards the kitchen for a much needed coffee, but not before you made a beeline for the bathroom to make yourself presentable.

A few good minutes later, most of which was spent in the bathroom rearranging your hair, you made your way towards the back of the house towards the garden. The early morning air, spiced by the fresh smell of the ocean with floral hints from the gardenias in full bloom, made you smile. Your tense posture relaxed as you sipped your coffee. You took in the bright yellows reflecting in the sky, and the pool which housed a bare chested man.

Sputtering, you coughed out your mouthful of coffee, almost tempted to rub your eyes in case what you saw was a mirage made up by your tired brain. What was Taehyung doing in your pool? His back was towards you and you took the time to observe the way his muscles strained against his sun kissed skin. Mouth hanging open you gulped, the sight of his bare back too much for your brain to handle.

You glanced away before you cleared your throat loudly to get his attention. “Care to tell me what you are doing in the pool?” You questioned, your eyes observing the bushes of manfern. You waited for a full minute before you got a verbal reply, the splashing sounds coming from the side an indication of him approaching you.

“Care to tell me who you’re talking to?” He mocked, your stubbornness amusing him. Pushing himself out of the pool as you turned around to give him a piece of your mind was a disaster waiting to happen. Your words caught in your throat, the sight of his bare chest and water dripping down it reminding you of how lackluster your dating life had been until then.

“Fu- You of course.” You exclaimed, your brain struggling to form a full sentence without a swear word in between.

Taehyung enjoyed the way your cheeks flamed red, the sight of your flustered face made him as amused as it did aroused, with the knowledge that he had been the one to make you that way. “Then, is there a reason you are not looking at the person you are addressing?” He couldn’t help himself, the need to tease you further overweighing everything else. Your reactions were gold to him and he planned to make the most of it.

“Is there a reason you’re naked?” You shot back, your eyes narrowed.

“I went for a swim.” He replied calmly as if you were missing the obvious. “Plus I am not naked, I'm wearing shorts.” He motioned towards his lower half and you couldn’t help but follow his movements, your eyes stuck on his narrow waist and happy trail leading towards imagery you’d rather have not thought of. You redirected your gaze at him, his smirk making you want to clock him in the face.

“Amazing.” You muttered not sure exactly what you may have been referring to. “Now that you are out the pool, can you put a shirt on?” You made a point by grabbing the towel sitting innocently on the back of the lounge chair and throwing it at him. Desperate to change the subject you hurriedly added. “What are you doing here this early? I thought we were meeting at the beach.”

Taehyung struggled not to laugh at your plight and instead he shrugged nonchalantly. “We were, but the waves are wild today. There is no way it’s safe for any of us out there.” He toweled himself and you tried your hardest to keep your eyes trained on his face instead of his well defined abs. “Thought it would be best if we went rock climbing instead.”

His proposition was enough to make you forget his state of nakedness, and you gaped at him. “Definitely not!” You shook your head, arms crossed in defiance. “Nuh-uh, no way.”

“Why are you being such a sourpuss?” He demanded, hands crossed over his chest and you tried your hardest not to stare. The sunrise was casting its rays over the two of you, causing the sheen of sweat and water clinging to his tanned skin to glisten. His stance did nothing to help with your staring, or your desire to reach out and run your hands over his bicep, if only to prove whether or not his skin was as soft as it looked.

With a hard gulp, you forced your gaze away from his naked chest, praying that he hadn't noticed the way it lingered there for a second too long. Locking eyes with his amused ones, the tick at the corner of his mouth suggested otherwise and you felt yourself flush. Mortified at having been caught ogling at the person you’ve readily declared to dislike. His words barely registered in your head as you bristled, “I am not a sourpuss.” You declared, copying his stance, arms crossed over your chest a defiant glint in your eyes.

Taehyung wondered if you realised that your position accentuated your bikini clad upper body. His mouth suddenly became dry as he tried not to stare at the way your breasts pushed upwards, or think how much the blush still dusting your cheeks made him want to act on impulse and kiss you senseless. As rough and blunt as you’d been until then, he couldn’t deny his attraction towards you, your wit and honesty drawing him in.

“I am just cautious.” You were quick to defend yourself, interpreting his stare as his rebuttal towards what you’d just declared. “I don’t like heights.” You mumbled, your arms dropping to your side, turning your gaze towards your feet.

Taehyung’s gaze softened, a small smile flitting over his face before he straightened himself and with a hard tone he replied, “It’s not that high, and you literally decided to ride waves without a second thought. With this at least you have a harness and protection.” He motioned towards the angry wall of water, its height and aggressiveness the only reason why he decided to forego his lessons for the day. He looked at the waves wistfully; for him it would have been the perfect time to ride. Throwing a glance in your direction he shook the thoughts away. You weren’t ready for this, and if turning his back towards the session meant keeping you safe, then he would do it without a second thought. He wouldn’t let you know though, your clear distaste for anything remotely caring coming from him had been made clear earlier that week.

Sighing you nodded, he was right. Gathering your last bit of courage, you straightened yourself, shoulders square staring him straight in the eyes. “Okay, let’s do this.”

Taehyung nodded at you, the desire to take your hand to comfort you was strong, your quivering lip giving away the nervousness underneath the bravado. To prevent himself from further scaring you away, he stuffed his hands inside his pockets and motioned with his head towards his car. “Let’s go then.”

****

The sight of the tall wall in front of you made you gulp, rampant thoughts of how you were going to fall running through your head.

“You scared?” Taehyung asked, his eyes searching yours. At the discomfort he found in them he smiled ruefully. “You’re scared.” He declared and you huffed at him, puffing your cheeks.

“I am not!” You stomped your foot in discontent, closely resembling a child, and Taehyung couldn’t help but laugh. Realising what you’ve done you relaxed your stance before you slowly nodded. “I’m not good with heights.” You mumbled, admitting this to him made you feel ashamed and you couldn’t bring yourself to look him in the eyes.

Taehyung cleared his throat, berating himself for making you feel self conscious. His intention was to plan an activity that you would not only find fun, but also liberating, not to make you feel inadequate. “Hey, there’s nothing wrong with not being good with heights!” He said but you still looked unconvinced. He stopped, his mind trying to find a way to make you feel better. “Ah, did you know I was terrified of water?” At your surprised stare it was his turn to blush. Sharing information not many people knew about him, not even his closest friends, made him nervous.

“You? No way?” Your mouth dropped incredulously. Having witnessed him in the water, you could have sworn he was born in it. “But...you’re so good!” At his sheepish nod you smiled at him, the thought of having knowledge about something so personal to him made you feel warm, a wave of affection washing over you.

“But don’t tell the guys, I’ll never hear the end of it.” He whined and you couldn’t help but laugh at him, the tense atmosphere disappearing into thin air.

“So how did the mighty Kim Taehyung end up loving the water?” You inquired, enjoying the conversation that ensued between the two of you. For the first time since having met him, you spent your time admiring the boyish grin and carefree attitude directed only towards you instead of afar.

****

“Oh my god Taehyung, stop!” You laughed, unable to control your amusement at his actions. Taehyung smiled softly to himself, your laughter echoed in his brain like a song on repeat. Turning towards you with a silly smile he motioned towards the front.

“You ready?” The queue was getting smaller and smaller and you were becoming more and more nervous. Your palms began sweating, and you were certain the feeling of stickiness running down your spine was not just the sun beating down onto your naked back. The encouraging chants in your head weren’t doing a good job of keeping your anxiety at bay anymore and the churning in your stomach was a telltale sign of nausea.

“Y/N, seriously, please stop.” Taehyung grabbed your hands, and you jolted not having realised the tight hold you had on the straps of your bag. Ignoring the warmth of his smooth long fingers prying yours away from each other, you bit your lip, the butterflies in your stomach kicking up a flurry. You could’ve sworn they weren’t there at the beginning, the churning in your stomach feeling different from before. Refusing to glance his way, you kept your eyes locked onto the wire that could be your potential demise. The sight of it combined with the shouts from the people going down was doing nothing to calm your nerves. You didn’t even notice when you allowed Taehyung to interlink your fingers together, or when you gripped his hand tightly in a desperate attempt to ground yourself– but he did.

Taehyung’s gaze flitted towards your hands, the feel of your tight hold on his hand drawing his attention. For a second he allowed himself the illusion of hope, but as soon as he saw the paleness of your skin he quickly acted, afraid you may end up puking before the fun had even begun.

“Come on, we can leave if you want to.” He pulled at your hand gently, the action making you aware of your own deathgrip on his. You let your hand drop, acting as if his touch has burnt you. It may just as well have, the feeling of his warm hand on yours persisted, even after you’d separated.

Chancing a look at the wire and attempting to calculate the distance between it and the ground you hesitated. Your body was screaming at you to turn around, your fear of heights making you tremble on spot. Yet your brain kept reminding you that Taehyung was there, and you wanted to look brave in front of him- if only to prove him wrong. You knew how to have fun.

Hesitating to look him in the eye, you shook your head hoping he wouldn’t be able to read your body language. The urge to grab his hand for comfort was strong, but instead you satisfied it by gripping your shorts tightly. The line moved slowly, and with each step you took closer towards the front you felt the intensity of your trembling knees. Your mouth felt stuffed with cotton balls, and you prayed that Taehyung couldn’t see the way your hands were shaking.

Taehyung observed you for a few seconds, his thoughts at war with each other. On one hand he wanted nothing more than to grab your hand and lend you his strength, on the other, he knew that you would not accept it. Your pride was too strong to accept any consolation from him. However, when he caught sight of your hands almost ripping the pockets of your shorts he made a quick decision to reach out for your hand once more, his strong grip not allowing you to pull away from him even if you wanted to.

Not like you wanted to, as soon as you felt his fingers intertwined with yours, you gulped. Your first reaction was to pull your hand away, but the way his thumb absentmindedly drew patterns on the inside of your wrist made you pause. Was your pulse raised because of your fear of heights, or was it something entirely different this time?

Your fretting thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a cheerfully familiar voice shouting both your names from across the road. “Yo! What are you doing ‘round these parts?” You turned around to face Seo Joon, surprised to discover the question was aimed at you instead of Taehyung. Confused as to why he’d address you first, you pointed to yourself questioningly.

“Yes, you.” Seo Joon laughed. “This loser’s quirks don’t phase me anymore.” He motioned with his thumb towards Taehyung, whose face resembled a perfect picture of a tomato.

Before an argument could break out between the two friends you readily replied, “I uh, Taehyung decided that the waves are too dangerous today, so he brought me here instead.” You shrugged, not meeting Seo Joon’s careful gaze. You didn’t know why, but the way he stared at you made you shy away. He was a handsome man, and you thought that from the beginning. Not like any of Taehyung’s squad was anything but handsome, but Seo Joon’s good looks paired with his wit made you think of him more than the rest.

Your attention focused on the tips of your shoes, you missed the way the two men glanced at each other. Seo Joon’s lips curled into a mischievous smile. “Did he, now?” He wondered thoughtfully. “But the waves are perfect for a ride today, this sort of aggressiveness,” he stressed out the word and you looked up at him. “Is perfect for a surfer.”

With a cocked eyebrow in Taehyung’s direction, your lips curled into a smile as you turned back to reply to Seo Joon. “Oh, well, he clearly needed a break today then.” You wiggled your brows at him, mocking Taehyung’s habit of dipping out of training and his usual lateness. Leaning towards Seo Joon you whispered loudly, intended for Taehyung to hear. “Do you think he used me as an excuse to get out of it today?” You laughed when Taehyung sputtered in protest.

Seo Joon laughed along with you, the meaningful gaze towards his best friend not lost on you. “Ah, I don't think that is the case Y/N, late as he is, that boy lives riding those waves.” He pointed his thumb towards the ocean. “You should see him and how grumpy he is when we get choppy waves.” He laughed, this time it was his turn to wiggle his eyebrows at you. “I think he had something better in sight this time though.” He winked at you, and you felt the blush returning with furious vengeance. “I wouldn’t blame him.”

You knew what he wanted to imply, but the small glimmer of hope and warmth that took roots in your heart was quickly crushed by Taehyung’s rebuttal. “Don’t get ahead of yourself man, I may be able to ride the waves, but she can’t.” Before he could continue his phone beeped and he excused himself to take it.

You glanced after him, your wistful gaze making Seo Joon smirk as he elbowed you. “Don’t take him seriously, these waves are perfect for you to learn. He’s just a worrywart.”

And just like that, the warmth took hold of you once more, and you smiled hesitantly at him. “Well, if he is such a worrywart, why take me to this place knowing full well I have a fear of heights?” You shrugged, remembering where you were, the thought of hanging above ground only secured by a wire making you shudder with anxiety.

Seo Joon eyed you suspiciously and opened his mouth to say something else but before he could say anything, Taehyung clapped a hand on his back, phone in his other hand. “Ye Won asked about you.” He shrugged as if he was talking about the weather. However, the glint in his eyes and the way Seo Joon blushed made you think there was more to it that met the eye. Looking between the both of them questioningly, you decided to keep your opinions to yourself.

“Right,” Seo Joon awkwardly laughed, “it’s time for me to hit the waves.” Ducking away from Taehyung’s arm, he waved at you and did his signature handshake with Taehyung. “Oh–“ He turned to glance at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “To answer your question, maybe he just wanted to hold your hand and couldn’t find a better excuse.” He winked at you, disregarding the blush that took over your cheeks with a vengeance.

“Yo, what are you telling her?” Taehyung narrowed his eyes, prepared to clock his own friend if needed. He knew that Seo Joon had nothing but respect towards you, but the furious red that coloured the tip of your ears made him doubt the relationship the two of you had.

Seo Joon rolled his eyes at his friend’s possessiveness over you, and with a well placed slap landed on his back he loudly stated, “That you need to man up. Oh… and remember to tell her about the party Hyung Sik’s throwing tonight.”

“The what?” You glanced between the two, blush subsided, wondering what they had’t told you.

“Our monthly get together. Don’t worry.” He advised when he saw you bite your lip. “Woo Sik will pick you up if this one doesn’t grow a pair.” With that he disappeared as soon as he came, leaving you and Taehyung to deal with a load of unpacked baggage.

The two of you stared at each other in stupefied silence, thoughts running through your head.

“Uh–“ Taehyung mumbled, the panic of having been put on the spot by his friend rendering him speechless.

“Don’t worry, Woo Sik can come and get me.” You hurried, the heat from your blush refusing to go down. You ignored the way your heart constricted when he didn’t argue against it, and instead pulled you out of the line.

“Yeah, it’s late. Maybe we should call it a day, so you can get ready.” Taehyung didn’t know what possessed him, but hearing you accept his friend’s invite so readily made him feel bitter,

****

True to his word, Woo Sik came to pick you up, his dashing figure clad in a colourful shirt. The bright green contrasted greatly with his baby blue shorts, and you couldn’t help but laugh at him.

“What? Am I not a perfect summer vibes model?” He gestured to himself and you chuckled, shaking your head at him.

“Of course you are.” You stepped around him patting his shoulder as you went, only to come face to face with the man who occupied your thoughts earlier. “Oh–“

Taehyung smiled at you, “Hey.” He greeted with an awkward wave and you were almost tempted to pick on his lack of snark. But one look at his sheepish grin made you pause.

“Hi?” You returned the bashful grin, your heart pumping blood straight to your face, a flush making its way onto your cheeks.

“I uh, came to pick you up?” He motioned towards the car in the driveway. “Well, we did.” He added to your confused expression. “I don’t have a functioning car.” He clarified, hands running through his hair- a nervous tick you’d picked up on.

“He means to say, he totaled it earlier this month, so I'm the designated driver.” Woo Sik shook his head, turning around to walk to his car. “You coming lovebirds?” He added, smirking to himself as he heard the two of you sputter behind him. “I wanna get going before sunrise.”

****

The party involved a lot of dancing, drinking and avoiding each other. Either using a member of the squad or the toilet as an excuse, you managed to not see Taehyung for longer than a few seconds for most of the night.

Exiting through the back into the garden you took a deep breath in, the stifling atmosphere from inside felt too much to handle. The sound of crickets and birds drowned out the sound of the heavy bass coming from inside the house the further you walked away from it.

“Hey.” The sudden appearance of the man you had been avoiding the whole night made you jump and you couldn’t stop the loud curse that slipped past your lips.

“Shit, I'm sorry!” He apologised, his hand grazing yours. There was a brief awkward silence as you sat down on the bench next to him and gathered the courage to speak up.

“Thank you.” You whispered, your hand pulling at his colourful shirt. This time he chose to wear a pattern, foregoing the usual creams, and you were glad for that. Pretending to observe the swirls and shapes on his top you didn’t raise your eyes to meet his. “For earlier.”

Taehyung was silent for a moment, his eyes taking in the scenery. The sight of the unusually calm ocean, baby waves breaking onto the golden shore brought him a sense of peace. He was annoyed that the waves were choppy that day, however, he did it for a reason and that was enough for him. “It’s nothing.” He shrugged hoping he sounded impassive. “You paid for a lesson which I couldn't deliver, it would’ve been a waste of time to not do this.” He shifted in his seat, the drink in his hands suddenly becoming the most interesting thing he’s ever seen.

“O-oh right, yes of course.” He was right, and you knew it, but you couldn’t help the crestfallen look on your face as you toyed with your top.

You were a fool to think that he may have done it for you. How could he, the only reaction you’d shown him since you met was anger, annoyance, and very little interest. Your city girl, devil may care attitude making you act self sufficient. Never once have you considered that it may be a hindrance. The city was ruthless, you needed to be as strong as possible to survive in the midst of a dog eat dog world. Especially in your field. There was no place for weakness. But maybe this caused you to forget the simple joys of life.

However, since coming here a couple of weeks ago; living in paradise and having the chance to discover a life outside of pavements, and the rush of the 8am crowd trying to get to work, you visibly let down your guard. Meeting Taehyung, as much of a rocky start you two have had in the beginning, ended up being a blessing in disguise. Him and his squad showed you what living outside of your head and responsibilities meant - and you couldn’t be more grateful towards them. Especially the handsome man that decided to make it his personal mission to show you what ‘living life really meant’ - as he put it.

Truth was, despite your differences at the beginning, you knew you’d developed feelings for him. Seeing his affectionate side carefully chipped away at your perfectly crafted city girl tough act. Cautiously glancing at him, you took your time to commit to memory his calm and peaceful features, the ocean breeze blowing through his hair. And as you gazed at him, the shining dots from the city around you casting their glow over the both of you, you let yourself admit you were in love. In that moment nothing else mattered, not even the hefty amount of alcohol you drank. In retrospect, it should have been a warning sign, a signal for you to stop and think about your actions.

At the time, you didn’t care, the alcohol merely liquid courage for you to do what you had always wanted to. Carefully taking a step towards Taehyung, you reached for the hand closer to you, fingers brushing over his. As soon as he froze, you did too, your breath caught in your throat, scenarios of him walking away from you running through your head. It only took a second though, for him to alleviate your worries, his hand completing the journey of yours, fingers tightly woven together.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Taehyung breathed and you looked up at him in surprise. You didn’t know whether you said it out loud, or he was a mind reader, nor did you care. Those words were all you needed to hear. With a satisfied smile you bravely pulled yourself closer to him, head leaning on his shoulder.

****

The blissful feeling that wrapped itself around your whole being as you closed the door behind you, felt like a dream. Taehyung’s hand in yours, the two of you giggling like children as you drunkenly bumped into walls, you had never felt so carefree in your life, and you basked in the feeling, somehow aware, in the back of your mind that it may not last forever. But for that night, nothing else mattered but the two of you, and the summer evening was sweetened by the taste of alcohol on your lips.

“Shhh.” You loudly whispered bursting out into uncontrollable laughter when you realised the ridiculousness of the situation. Pulling him all the way into the garden, you settled for the bench behind the main palm tree. A bench where if you say you couldn’t see the sea, but if you dared look up, you could see the stars hanging above your head. Doing exactly that, your eyes narrowed, your whole attention onto the pitch black blanket littered by jewels.

“What are you doing?” Taehyung asked curiously, when you started counting the stars out loud.

“Counting stars.” You stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You should try it.” You turned around with a soft smile on your face as the moon and stars formed a halo around you, giving you an ethereal glow.

“I–“ he ran a hand through his unruly hair, the dark brown locks reminding you of deep rich chocolate. “You are leaving soon right?” He hesitated, the words bitter on his tongue. You couldn’t find the strength to reply, the words stuck in your throat so you settled for a light nod.

The silence that settled over the two of you felt uncomfortable and you shifted, the bench you two sat on making it difficult for you to not lean against him.

“Sorry.” You mumbled, feeling the beginning of a blush wash over you. He felt hot, the smell of sun and sea clinging onto his skin and you wanted nothing more but to bury yourself into his embrace.

Taehyung’s deep inhale brought you out of your own thoughts, finding the heat emanating off of him distracting. “I wish you wouldn’t leave so soon.” He whispered under his breath, making yours hitch in your throat. You glanced at him from under your lashes, only to discover that his whole attention was on the sky above your heads.

“What are you doing?” You blinked at him, throwing back at him his question from earlier. When he turned his attention back to you, the twinkle in his eyes seemed to shine as brightly as the lights above you.

“I’m wishing on a star.” He simply said, turning his attention back to the blanket of stars, completely oblivious to how his words had shifted your world.

****

Following your blissful few days with Taehyung, reality set in with a call that was enough to bring your world to a halt. Everything seemed to be sinking down into the ocean you had come to love. As you stared at your laptop screen, the words you wrote to Ye Won the day before about still sticking around in a hotel for another few weeks felt completely moot. The thought of having to not only say goodbye to her, but also her brother, the man who showed you that life was indeed more than pavements and pay raises, brought tears in your eyes.

It felt too good to be true, and maybe in a way, it was. You lived your summer of love, as brief as it had been, it was time to return to the real world. The words that kept ringing in your head after the call you had with your manager made you fall deeper and deeper into despair. You’re fired, the project fell through. No explanation as to why this would have been the reason to fire you, nor why they were not firing anyone else that had worked on that project, the call ended and left you empty and lifeless.

“Y/N.” Taehyung’s voice reverberated through the corridor as he made his way in and broke you out of your daze. With a sniffle, you wiped the stream of tears that continued to run down your face, but it was a futile attempt as not a second later he walked into the kitchen, catching you mid sob.

“Y/N.” Taehyung was not expecting to come in and find you looking so crestfallen, the dejected look on your face was a spear through his heart. Blissfully unaware of your situation he wondered what happened. “Are you...crying?” He cautiously approached you, not knowing what to do. His instincts telling him to comfort you, he tried to touch your trembling hand but you pulled away from him with such force he had to take a step back.

“I need to go.” You stood up from the counter, your eyes locked onto the clock ticking on the wall. A good reminder that time cannot stand still for you or your fancies. Taehyung’s pained expression did little to phase you, the panic in your heart, as reality began to set in, overriding any other thought or feeling. Despite the blissful weeks you’ve had with him, being accepted by the crew you knew it was time to wake up and realise this was not your reality.

“No.” Taehyung’s determined tone made you falter, and you looked at him eyes wide open in surprise.

“What do you mean no?” You questioned him, the weight of his words hitting you like a hammer to the head.

“You have been the better part of these past few weeks, I can’t let you go just like that. Not after that night. I don’t know what happened to make you change your mind, but it is fixable.” He explained, his hopeful expression making you resent him, and most importantly yourself. You fell into the trap of summer love, where emotions explode. But just like any other explosion, once the debris settles, there is only dust and ruin left. He had done nothing wrong, if there was one person to be blamed, it would be you. It hurt to know you were the one at fault, yet he would also be paying the price for your stupidity.

“Unfortunately my life doesn’t just revolve around you, or Hawaii, or this carefree attitude. I lost my job Taehyung.” You exclaimed, putting the necessary distance in between you and him, the distance that you should have made your heart set as well. “I have to find a job now, and all my life is back in London. This is borrowed time. Not my life.”

“Can you not see me as part of your life?” He pleaded, a last desperate attempt to grasp at smoke.

“I’m sorry.” You shook your head, the heaviness that settled over your heart almost suffocating. In fact the sight of him did little to bring any good memories that you’ve had in this place, it only served as a reminder of what you couldn't have. Of what was not yours to take. “I’m sorry, I-” You paused wondering what you were doing, why were you bartering your heart like that. You cared for him, that much you knew yet, your mind knew it wasn’t enough for you to drop what you had known for a whole life.

“My flight is leaving soon.” You whispered, the silence that followed your earlier outburst too much for your guilt to be able to handle. You knew you were damaging a budding relationship, that you dared not think, may have been the best relationship you’ve ever had.

Taehyung didn’t dare utter another word. He couldn’t. He knew you needed to get away, he was more than aware that you needed space, even if that meant he had to watch you drag your suitcases out the door that shut right behind you, putting more and more distance between him and you.

****

“Georgie, no!” You shook your head vehemently at your friend, her pleading face doing nothing to soften your resolve. “I am not going to accept this.”

You quickly paced around the room as you hurriedly unpacked your bags from your trip doing your best to ignore the other person lounging like a cat on your sofa. You’d been away for a couple of days, the old city of Edinburgh being your destination. You may have enjoyed your time there a bit too much given the workload of your new job. So much that you barely had time to breathe. But this was what you needed. Time spent not at work meant time for your brain to start thinking about an island, and waves, and most importantly, surfers. Specifically one surfer.

“Come on, Y/N!” Georgie’s pout almost reached the floor yet you still wouldn’t budge. “It’s been a while since you’ve been on a date!” She tried to reason with you. Unbeknownst to her, this only served as fuel for your rising anger.

“Look Georgie, I have been on a date, and I did tell you about it.” You angrily slammed the dirty laundry in the basket. “And before you say anything, yes I did enjoy myself but–“ you paused, the strength you had earlier waning. Suddenly you felt tired, and with a sigh you let yourself fall onto the couch next to her. Rubbing your eyes, your mind once again invaded by sun kissed skin and the smell of salt, you tried your hardest to keep everything at bay.

“Oh love.” Georgie shifted on the couch, her warm hand enveloping yours in comfort. “I’m sorry, it’s just–“ she paused, offering your desperate look a rueful smile. “I just want to see you happy. You lost your job–“ you started to protest but she held her hand up to stop you. “As I was saying, you lost your job, and lost your heart, and all in the span of two months. And then you come back, get a new job within weeks and act like nothing has happened. I’m just worried about you.” She squeezed your hand and you felt your carefully crafted mask slip away. She was your best friend, if you couldn’t talk to her then who could you talk to?

“I just, I miss him.” The admittance tumbling out of your mouth made you feel so much lighter. Not better by any means, it just reiterated the feeling of hurt and hopelessness. You were more than aware it was your fault you’ve been feeling like this.

“It’s my fault.” You whispered, the desperation causing your voice to crack. Georgie sighed, and enveloped you into a hug, allowing you to hide your wayward tears into her top.

“It’s not your fault.” She argued, patting your back in a comforting way. “It isn’t.”

“But it is!” You sniffed, another sob wrecking through your body. “He confessed for God’s sake! And I left!” Not bothering to hide your sobs, you let yourself go, crying for what may have been, crying for Taehyung and his crestfallen expression when you announced you were leaving.

“Go back.” Georgie simply said and you pulled away from her, an incredulous look on your face.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he doesn’t want to hear from me again.” You shook your head, your tears at bay for now. Sliding away from her, you put some distance between the two of you and you rubbed away the last stubborn tears. “It’s ok, I can do this. It’s just another hiccup.” You didn’t know where this strength was coming from, but you weren’t going to question it. You were not back in Hawaii anymore, no. You were in London. And you couldn't afford to live the same life you did in Hawaii. Emotions would have to wait.

“Right.” Georgie nodded at you unconvinced.

“Look–“ you sighed, “I will go on this blind date. If only to get used to being amongst Londoners again.” You laughed wryly, the feel of a new resolve making you hopeful. Yet, why did it feel like your heart was shattering even further?

When you agreed to go on a blind date you weren’t expecting to find yourself in front of the Tiki bar in the middle of the city, completely overdressed for the location. Glancing up at the colourful sign you sighed, trust Georgie to set you up with someone you would most likely not click with in the least.

Entering the bar, you tried to not get overwhelmed at the overly done decorations, tempted to stop a waiter, tell them how much you hated the place and leave. Had it been you before London, you may have even done that, but now you swallowed your words and instead approached them for a table.

“What name?” He inquired, tapping on his Ipad and you paused realising you had no name to give them.

“Uh, Y/N?” You tried, but when he shook his head your face fell. How were you meant to find the table without a name? You couldn’t just walk around the whole place asking people if they were waiting for their very late blind date.

“Excuse me, it’s Kim.” A deep voice spoke from behind you and you froze. Not only did you recognise the name, but also you recognised the voice better than your own. You dreamt of that voice. You didn’t dare turn around, not wanting to get your hopes up. Kim was a fairly common name, and London was big, maybe you were wrong.

Steeling your heart, hoping it didn’t jump out of your chest with how fast it was beating, you turned around.

“Hello, I'm Kim Taehyung, I believe I am your date for the evening?” Your mouth fell, eyes wide open and you seemed to have lost the ability to speak. Only when the waiter asked you to follow him did you move, your feet carrying you automatically as your mind was too busy trying to comprehend the situation.

“This place is all wrong.” You heard the mutter coming from behind you and you would have laughed had it not been for the rampant way your heart seemed to be racing. You wanted to turn around, to ask him what he thought he was doing there, but you didn’t have the courage to do so.

Brought to a table near the open windows, you chuckled at the discrepancy between the atmosphere inside the bar and the crisp air of nighttime London.

“It’s ridiculous isn’t it?” Taehyung joined you at the table, his hesitancy to pull the chair for you sorted by the waiter. Still chuckling, you glanced at him, the sparkle in his eyes making your breath catch. You would be lying if you said you hadn’t missed this, the glint in his eyes when his boxy wide smile took over. The mole on the tip of his nose, which you couldn’t see because of the lights in the bar but you knew it was there, having been close enough to him to observe it in detail.

“You’re not a Londoner.” You whispered to yourself and he laughed lightly, having heard you. “What–“ your voice cracked and you cleared your throat, clammy hands wiping themselves onto your skirt underneath the table. “What are you doing here?” You decided to take the bull by the horns, not wanting to waste another minute with mindless chat. The two of you have been through enough to skirt around sensitive topics.

Taehyung looked at you, the smile slipping off his face slowly, until it was gone, his expression becoming thoughtful. You had the urge to poke the crease between his furrowed eyebrows, loathing the knowledge he felt like this. But you chose to stay seated, hands gripping at your skirt, waiting for his response. You didn’t know when he became the one person who could make you or break you, but he did. The power this man had over you was absolutely impressive.

“I, uh–“ he rubbed the back of his head, a sheepish look on his face.

“Better yet, how did this,” you motioned between the two of you “–happen?” If you saw the flash of hurt cross Taehyung’s you didn’t mention it. Patiently waiting for him to answer, you knew you were putting him selfishly in a tight spot. He wasn’t the one who decided to give up on you. It was the other way round.

“Ye Won and your friend may have had something to do with it.” He sighed, his attention to the bypassers across the street. He tried hard to not look at you, he didn’t want to see once more the rejection in your eyes.

Waiting for him to turn around to face you, you stayed silent. You wanted to reach out across the table, his hand conveniently placed for you to grab it. But the knowledge of what he may be feeling stopped you, you had no right.

“But, why?” You stammered, your thoughts in disarray. There was so much you wanted to tell him, ask him, but you couldn’t get yourself to utter them outloud.

Taehyung turned his gaze back to you, the intensity with which his eyes bore through you made you shiver, your breath caught in your throat. It felt as if your soul lay naked before him, and as much as you wanted to look away you couldn’t. For a few seconds neither of you dared to break the silence that settled between the two of you.

“I promised–“ he paused to gather his thoughts, and you waited breath abated. “I promised I would always be there.” He admitted and you let out an involuntary whimper, his words piercing through your heart.

Taehyung gathered all his strength to carry on with his confession, the thought of you rejecting him once again weighing heavily on his mind. Last time he bit the bullet, diving in head on not considering what you may have been feeling, his own wishes overpowering any other considerations. “So I want to be there, regardless of how you want me to be there for you.”

He tried to be as nonchalant as possible, but the pleading look he offered you betrayed the emotional storm he felt inside. His words shifted something deep inside of you. As a city girl born and raised between pavements and tall buildings, you learnt that courage to stick up for yourself was an important survival trait. Hearing him confess his feelings not only once, but twice, made you realise that courage lies in more than one aspect. And you’ve been nothing but a coward.

“I’m in love with you.” The words tumbled out of your mouth before you could stop them. Eyes wide at your own admission you waited for him to say something.

“I–“ Taehyung felt disarmed. He had a long speech planned, he knew you’d not be easily swayed so he came with a foolproof plan, that not only Ye Won may have had a hand in but also your friends. To hear you say you were in love with him, as ecstatic as it made him feel, his brain struggled to catch up with what was happening.

“Look, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have sprung this on you. But I don’t think I would've been able to live with myself if I didn’t get this off my chest.” You reasoned. “I was stupid, and inconsiderate, and I’m sorry–“

The warmth of his hand enveloping yours made you freeze, your eyes locked onto the table, unable to meet his. Neither of you said a word for a while, the tropical music playing in the background making you feel uneasy.

“Where is the waiter?” You tried your hardest to change the subject, eyes scouring the place, doing your best to not glance at the dark haired man in front of you. The subtlety with which you tried to pull your hand away from him didn’t go unnoticed as Taehyung squeezed it, his attempt at keeping you there with him.

“Y/N.” The desperate plea in his voice stopped you dead in your tracks, your eyes now searching his instead of a place to escape to. The pain in his eyes made you realise he thought you were planning to reject him once more, completely oblivious to reality.

“You think I am going to leave you?” You breathed out, shocked. Taehyung didn’t reply but he didn’t need to, the frown marring his face was enough proof. You knew it wasn’t appropriate, but the ridiculousness of the situation made you burst out in laughter.

“I just told you I loved you, you idiot.” You huffed, Taehyung’s eyes widening at your obvious annoyance.

“But–“ He stammered, trying to make sense as to why you’d ask about the waiter.

“We should go.” You supplied shrugging while still looking around for the missing person. The relief Taehyung felt at your words could be easily read in the chuckle that escaped him. “I don’t know about you, but I'd rather not cause a scene here.” You finished, and when you still couldn’t locate the waiter you abruptly got up, pulling Taehyung along with you.

“Are you saying this is going to go down with a big emotional confession?” He couldn’t help himself as he teased you, the glimmer of mischievousness you found in his eyes making your heart beat faster.

“Oh shush you, otherwise I’ll leave you here.” You said as you navigated through the tables. There was nothing wrong with leaving before telling someone, but with his hand in yours, the lightness in your heart after your admittance made you feel like you were a teenager about to jump into the neighbour’s pool for a midnight swim.

“Can’t do that,” he teased as you both made your way outside into the chillier London air. Once out of view, he pulled you to him. “You just admitted you loved me.”

Hearing him say the words out loud made your breath catch in your throat. And without a second thought you stood on your tiptoes, your palms resting on his chest for stability. “Well loverboy, I can always take it back.” You whispered, your lips ghosting over his in a shy kiss.

In hindsight, you should have known not to tease him, as the force with which he wrapped his arms around your middle and pulled you to him, his lips searching for yours took you by surprise. The heat of his lips, slightly bruising, felt familiar, like home, and you soon lost yourself in it. A satisfied sigh escaped you and you let your hands wonder, as he coaxed your lips open, his tongue searching for yours.

The loud whistle from a taxi driving past you made you remember you were still in the middle of the city, out in the open for everyone to see.

“And we still managed to cause a scene.” You laughed pulling yourself away, his hand not leaving your midriff. “Let's go, where are you staying?” You asked, quickly realising you didn’t even know why he was there in the first place.

“The office.” He shrugged as if it wasn’t an important bit of information and you looked at him questioningly. “I uh–, came here for the opening of my new branch. My office decided to extend from the US to the UK which was the perfect opportunity .” The tone of his voice was so neutral you could’ve fooled yourself he was talking about the weather instead of important information which he ought to have shared a while ago.

“You–“ you stopped yourself from chastising him, he could fill you in on this later. For now you just wanted to enjoy your newfound summer love and hopefully help it grow into something more as time went by.

“You didn’t think I only surfed right?” He laughed, his fingers digging into your hip as he glanced down at you. Blushing at his softened gaze you shook your head and mumbled under your breath. “What was that?” He cocked his head to the side, his smile growing bigger.

“Doesn’t matter, you can tell me all this when we are on the tube.” You hurriedly supplied, before looking at him with an impish smile. “Or, we could–“ you stopped walking and turned around to face him. “Just do,” you placed a suggestive hand on his chest, your voice low, “other things on the tube.”

“The tube?” His eyes widened and you laughed reaching up on your tiptoes to kiss him again. Grabbing his hand and giving it a squeeze you pulled away and winked at him.

“Don’t worry, it’s like riding a wave.”

main masterlist

[kindahoping4forever]

I Don’t Wanna Spend One More Christmas Without You // Poly!Cashton

@cal-puddies​​ and I want to thank everyone who read/liked/reblogged/left us feedback during our Hoe For The Hoe-lidays event. We keep saying we can’t believe we pulled this off: between our 10 solo fics and this co-write, we posted over 30k words this week! I’m proud of not only that impressive feat but also the work we produced, these have been some of my favorite pieces in recent memory.

We knew we wanted to close out with a Galaxybrain co-write but we weren’t sure which of our lanes to feed. We figured, hey it’s the season of giving: why not both? 😏 In true Cass & Crystal fashion, this started out with us just being thirsty (we wrote the smut first lmao) but ended up being super heartfelt and emotional? Please be sure and let us know what you think, we couldn’t be prouder of this one!

Warnings: Reader x Calum, Reader x Ashton, Calum x Ashton; a relatively new throuple trying to figure out how to express their feelings for one another, filth but make it fluffy, unprotected sex within a triad relationship, oral sex performed on both a male and a female, manual stimulation of both a male and a female, cum play 

Word Count: 9150

Cass & Crystal’s Masterlist  // Hoe For The Hoe-lidays Masterlist

Let  us  know  what  you  think!

“Food’s here,” a voice quietly announces with a rap on the door.

You turn to see Calum in your bedroom doorway, sheepishly mouthing ‘sorry’ when he realizes you’re on the phone. You step over to him and whisper, “I’m almost done, bub,” reassuring him with a quick peck on the lips.

A few minutes later, you follow the sounds of loud laughter and conversation to the living room; you smile when you see Ashton standing there, in the midst of an animated story while Cal sits on the couch, hanging on every word, laughing as if it’s the funniest thing he’s ever witnessed. You honestly wonder if maybe it is.

You bounce over behind Ash, throwing your arms around him, nuzzling his back; his leather jacket feels cold against your face so you assume he hasn’t been here long. “I didn’t know we were seeing you tonight,” you chirp.

He chuckles, slinging an arm around you. “I was texting with Cal when he was ordering dinner and it sounded good so I invited myself,” he explains, kissing your forehead.

“Bullshit, I absolutely invited you!” Cal insists, smiling eyes betraying his words of protest. You giggle at their banter and untangle yourself from Ash to serve yourself some dinner. Cal continues his teasing, “The food sounded good, just admit you missed us and move on.”

Ashton sits down on the couch next to Cal and nudges his knee tentatively with his own. “Of course I missed you,” he says simply. The two men exchange sweet, almost shy smiles and you feel your entire being light up with affection as you watch them.

It’d been four months since you and Ash had asked Calum to be a part of your relationship and while the three of you were still individually and collectively deciding exactly what all that means, you were happy and that’s all that mattered to you.

In the year and a half you were with Ashton, it was as intense and meaningful a relationship as you’d ever had - but it was never quite right and you’d split up a handful of times. During one of your “breaks” last year, a friend of a friend suggested that Cal might be the answer to your search for a new roommate. You met for coffee one day and immediately hit it off; you’d be lying if you said you didn’t quickly develop feelings for him but more than anything at that point, you needed a friend and Cal was there for you when it really counted.

It came as no surprise that when Ash started hanging around again, he bonded with Cal as instantly as you did and the three of you became inseparable. You and Ashton reconciled once again and couldn’t help but notice how much more communicative and at peace with each other you were with Calum around. It’s like he had been the missing piece all along, he made everything feel right - and you eventually told him as much.

Which is why you’re struggling so much with the bad news you have to deliver to your boyfriends. You sit on your living room floor, picking at your dinner, going over the dilemma in your mind for the 100th time, trying to find a different solution.

“Darlin’?” Cal’s gentle but firm voice shakes you out of your thoughts and you look up blankly. “Ash asked if you wanted another soda.”

You blink a few times, as if that will reset your mind and bring clarity. “Oh. No thank you, love, I’m good!” You call out towards the kitchen.

“You feelin’ OK?” Cal asks, reaching across the coffee table to stroke your arm. “We’ve been talking about this food all day and you’ve barely touched it.”

You look into his dark eyes, full of care and concern and know you have to be honest with him. “I need to talk to you both about Christmas… it’s not great,” you admit.

Ashton searches your face as he sits back down. “Is your mom alright?” He gently asks, remembering a health scare your family was dealing with when he went home with you last winter.

You offer him a faint, loving smile. “Everyone’s fine… great, even. Uh… my sister is getting engaged,” you share, chewing your lip.

“Oh! ...Oh,” he responds, starting to understand the issue.

Calum looks between the two of you, baffled. “I don’t understand, why is that bad? I thought we liked her boyfriend?”

“We do,” you start, carefully. “It’s just… With this news in mind, I don’t know if it’s really the right time to tell everyone about our relationship now.” You can’t bring yourself to look in Cal’s eyes yet, not wanting to see if he’s as hurt as you fear he may be.

He sits back on the couch, trying to process. “I thought you said your parents would be super understanding and chill about us?”

Ash sees you struggling to find the words so he tries to help. “They would be. They will be,” he reassures Cal with a warm smile. “I think the concern is that an engagement might seem kind of mundane compared to an announcement like ours. What’s more exciting than a daughter bringing home one son in law? How about the other daughter bringing home two?”

“They’d spend the whole time doting on us, making sure we’re comfortable, Facebooking all the extended family who’s coming to visit to make sure no one says anything that might offend us… her moment would get totally overshadowed,” you explain. “And I’d hate that, this is a big deal, she deserves to be The Story.”

Calum listens intently, nodding. You finally catch his gaze and are relieved to see nothing but understanding and compassion on his face. “OK. Well, wouldn't it be better if I just didn’t go at all then?” He offers sincerely.

Your exclamation of “Bubba, no!” blends with Ashton’s soft sigh of “Cal…” and you all have to laugh at the outburst.

"That's not me trying to be dramatic or anything, I just don't want to cause any trouble," he shrugs.

You scoot around to come sit next to the couch. "I've really been looking forward to us spending our first Christmas together," you insist, squeezing Cal's knee. "If you're uncomfortable with coming under these circumstances, I understand but for what it's worth, I would like you there."

Ash places his hand on top of yours, reassuring Calum as well. "The family's already expecting you, just as a roommate," he points out. "Plus… trying to keep our secret could be kind of fun." He winks at Cal, who can't resist breaking into a wide grin.

Your “fun” holiday couldn’t be off to a worse start the next morning when Ashton arrives bright and early to pick you and Cal up only to find you still in your pajamas, rushing to finish getting your bags together. After a few minutes of Ash stomping around, huffing about getting a late start, Cal, peacemaker that he is, offers to help him pack the car while you finish up.

You meet them in the driveway a few minutes later, dragging your suitcase behind you. Ash promptly snatches it away from you without a word and you glare at him fiercely.

Calum appears at your side and holds you by the waist. “You can’t blame him for being irritated,” he says quietly, rubbing your arm. “You knew what time he was coming, you should have been packed.”

“Yeah… but,” you start.

Cal is already shaking his head. “No, darlin’, there’s no excuse. We had a plan, you should have been ready.”

“See!” Ashton says, coming up beside the two of you.

“Well, you don’t get to gloat, babe, you could have handled it better,” Cal chides.

“I don’t like it when you don’t pick sides,” Ash says, coming over to peck Cal’s cheek. He presses his lips to the top of your head. “I’m sorry I was a grouch.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t ready and delayed us 15 whole minutes,” you reply.

Cal pinches your hip. “Passive aggressive much?”

Ash shrugs at you. “It’s coming out of your breakfast time. It’s a 6 hour drive, love.”

“I’m aware, love,” you fire back, helping yourself into the back seat. He sighs as you pull the hood up on your sweatshirt and stuff your hands in the pocket.

Ash huffs as he shuts your door. Cal gently grabs his arm. “Give her a few minutes. We’ll make breakfast quick, coffee and bagels; smother hers in cream cheese, get some caffeine in her and she’ll forgive you,” he reassures.

His prediction is spot on and by the time you’re halfway through your cup of coffee, you’re leaning into the front seat to run your fingers through both of your boyfriends’ hair. “I’m so glad I get to take you both home with me,” you say warmly. “I’m sorry it can’t be exactly what we wanted, but I know it’ll still be special, because we’ll be together.”

The rest of the drive goes smoothly and when you arrive at your parents’ house, the family is waiting at the door for you; after introducing Calum, you’re immediately whisked away by your sister, gushing about the recent trip her boyfriend took her on for their anniversary. You listen quietly and hope your smile doesn’t give anything away, you love that she has no idea what’s coming in a few days.

Your dad loves Ashton and couldn’t be more thrilled that you brought him home again; he offers to help him unload the car and makes a big show of pointing out how similar their leather jackets are, going so far as to make a “like father, like son” joke.

You sneak a few apologetic glances over at Calum, who you hope isn’t feeling too left out in his role of “your roommate” as he makes small talk with your sister’s boyfriend. You feel endlessly grateful for your mother when you see her sit down and start showing Cal all the gourmet vegetarian recipes she’s bookmarked on her iPad, asking what he’d prefer for Christmas dinner; she’s clearly charmed by his shyly polite responses and you fight the urge to go over and kiss over his squishy, crinkly face as her attention continues to make him more smiley and flustered.

While your mom and sister set the table for dinner, your dad and Ash carry the luggage to your respective rooms for you to get settled; you take advantage of the opportunity to break away and check in with Cal, under the guise of showing him the trick to operating the shower in the guest bathroom.

You turn the overhead fan on to help drown out your conversation. “You doin’ OK, bub?” You ask, massaging his shoulders.

He squeezes your hip. “It was hard at first but your mom’s sweet,” he gives you a sad smile. “Guess I didn’t realize how weird it’d be to see you and Ash act like a couple again, since I’m used to seeing you be… whatever we are.”

“The best thing that’s ever happened to me, that’s what we are,” you easily respond, drawing him in for a quick, soft kiss.

He holds you by the hips, resting his forehead to yours. “Thank you,” he murmurs. “You better get out of here before people get suspicious.” He presses his lips to your forehead and you step out of the bathroom, shutting the door behind you.

You spend the next few days trying to make sure Calum doesn’t feel left out. Your dad invites him to join some of the “future son in law” activities he’d planned but Cal is easily swayed to stay with your mom and help around the house. His height and muscle mass are highly desired for decorating or carrying in groceries and he’s so sweet and well-mannered, your mom is just tickled to have him around. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think she had a crush on him.

The day before Christmas Eve, Cal agrees to join the men for lunch and last minute shopping; your mom encouraged him to go because she wanted to make a secret shopping trip with you so you could pick out a few gifts for the family to give him so he didn’t get left out.

From what Ashton tells you when they return, the outing seemed to go well; you chatted with Cal a little that evening and he seemed to be in good spirits, happy with how things had turned out. But you can still sense him needing the affection you haven’t been able to provide; aside from a stolen kiss here and there, you’d barely touched him since you arrived and he and Ash had been keeping their distance so as not to raise eyebrows. What weighs on you most is knowing Calum hadn’t slept alone since the three of you became the three of you and you can see it wearing on him.

Ashton climbs in bed next to you. “Love… who’re you texting?” He asks, already knowing the answer.

“I just want to make sure he’s OK,” you say sheepishly.

“He’s fine, love,” he murmurs, kissing your cheek, then letting his lips trail down to your neck. “You’ve said he’s had fun with you and your mom and I saw him have a great day today. He’s good… now, me on the other hand? I could use some attention.” His lips firmly attach to your jaw and he’s practically laid himself on top of you, hovering.

You giggle at his lack of subtlety. “When do you not want attention?” You tease, pulling him into a hungry kiss. “I’ve been missing you too, Ash. I’m sorry I haven’t been here for you much, I’ve just been worried about how Cal’s handling things and I love my family but being around them is kind of draining…”

He cuts you off with a sweet kiss. “I know, baby… ‘s why I thought we could use a little stress relief,” he flirts, leaning in to mouth at that spot behind your ear that makes you crazy.

You hum with interest and brush his hair off his forehead. “We’d have to be quiet, we can’t have another incident like last year,” you say with a smirk.

Ash pulls back to playfully glare at you. “We’ve gone over this, technically that noise I made was your fault. If you hadn’t done that thing with your tongue, I wouldn’t have cum so suddenly and the incident would’ve been avoided,” he argues, tickling your side.

You try fighting him off to no avail. “My sister did think it was pretty funny… after the initial horror wore off,” you giggle, batting at his hands, trying to get him to let up.

After another minute or so of play fighting, you “win” by wrapping your legs around Ashton’s body and using them to draw him back over you. He kisses you with a little more emotion behind it than last time, pulling away to whisper, “I’m very happy I get to be here with you.” Your stomach flips at his sincerity and you wrap your arms around his neck, letting your kisses tell him how much you appreciate him.

Things start to heat up and Ash’s hands slide up your sweatshirt and over your hips; his hands are slow to tease you the way they usually do and when you rock against him, you’re slightly surprised you don’t feel him straining against his sweatpants yet. Your fingers travel under his long sleeve tee and dance over his abs to meet his waistband. You’re just about to dip your hand in when he stops you.

“Does this feel weird to you? This feels weird to me,” he sighs, flopping over onto his back beside you. He runs his hand through his long, dark hair, distressed. “Why does this feel weird to me?”

You roll onto your side, curling up next to him. “Well… we haven’t been intimate together, just the two of us, since Cal happened,” you say gently, stroking softly at his chest. “Do you think maybe you miss him being with us?”

“Yeahhhhh, I think so…” He lets out a long exhale, playing with your hand on him. “I just… it’s silly, you and me had sex a million times before we met him and now… I pull away from you and expect to see his eyes smiling at me while he kisses your shoulders. Expect to feel your skin already warm from his touch… expect to feel him warm next to me. Want it, even.”

“Ash,” you pout, touched by how he’s opening up to you, how open he’s being with himself about his feelings for Calum. “It’s not silly, you care about him. It’s not that you and I are suddenly uncomfortable with each other, it’s just that we’re used to more than this now. Need it, even.”

You rest your head on his chest and lay together, quiet and understanding while you both evaluate your feelings. After a while, you decide to lighten the mood, lifting your head up to tease, “A million times, eh?”

Ashton laughs loudly, clamping his hand over his mouth to muffle the noise. A beat passes and he meets your eyes for the first time since this conversation started, giving you an almost shy smile. “Think we could slip him in here undetected?”

You grin at him as you reach for your phone. “I don’t think the three of us would be able to keep it down, so no funny business,” you warn, texting your boyfriend. “But at the very least, we’ll get some alone time, even for a few minutes.”

Ash gets up and cracks the door, waiting for Cal to make his way down the hall; when he appears in the doorway, you see Ashton’s shoulders instantly relax. He gently closes the door behind him and wraps Calum in a tight, warm embrace; you can’t tell what Ash murmurs in his ear but whatever it is, it casts a soft, lovestruck glow across Cal’s features when he hears it.

His eyes meet yours and you open your arms wide. “Come lay with us, bubba,” you invite him.

“But…” He motions to the door, looking unsure.

Ash shrugs, “We can say we’re watching a movie.” He rests his chin on Cal’s shoulder from behind. “What do you say, babe? We miss you.”

Calum relaxes, gently reaching up to scratch at Ash’s scruff. He moves toward the bed but clearly doesn’t know what to do.

“Lay next to me, bub!” You smile, patting the bed next to you.

Ash lets a soft smile cross his face. “Why don’t you get in the middle?” He suggests.

Cal lays next to you and you instantly snuggle into him, throwing your arm across his body while Ash settles in on his other side. Cal wraps his arm around you and kisses your forehead; you look up with a pout and he presses his lips to yours. He pulls away from you when he feels Ashton nuzzle his cheek; Ash looks at him lovingly and gently plants a chaste kiss on his lips.

“Thought we were cuddling, lovers,” Cal whispers against his mouth.

“We are… just wanted to give you affection too,” Ash murmurs.

The three of you lay quietly for a while, Ash’s head next to Cal’s on the pillow and you draped across Cal’s body. His arm is tight around your back while he and Ash shyly play with each other’s fingers.

Ash looks over at you and you watch as his eyes take you in. “Our girlfriend sure is beautiful, isn’t she, Cal?” He whispers, lips gently pressing to Cal’s jaw.

“Gorgeous,” he agrees, turning his eyes to you, sweeping your hair back. Ash leans in to you first for a kiss, with Cal wanting one right after. You sigh, scooting up so you can rest your head in the crook of Cal’s neck, and let yourself drift to sleep. Calum knows immediately, he’s felt your even breath on his neck many times.

“She sleeps so easy with you,” Ash comments, brushing his fingers against Cal’s for the umpteenth time. Cal finally laces his fingers with Ashton’s, looking over at him. They stare at each other for a few moments before Ash speaks again. “I’m so glad you decided to come with us after all… I know it’s not perfect and not what we talked about, but I don’t think either of us would enjoy this without you.”

“I’m really happy to be here,” Cal responds quietly, squeezing Ash’s hand and your sleeping body gently. “I was definitely missing all of this though... thanks for bringing me in tonight.”

“We needed you,” Ash confesses, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. “Weird when you're not here now.”

Calum turns his face toward Ashton’s, nuzzling in and enjoying the warmth of his boyfriend, his rough hand wrapped with his; he grins against Ash’s cheek and Ash responds with a kiss to his forehead.

Cal stays, wrapped in the both of you, for another 45 minutes before the men agree it’s time to call it a night. He tries his best not to wake you as he slips out of bed but he fails, leading to an extra 15 minutes of your soft whines and insistence that he stay. He finally leaves you with a passionate kiss and a kiss on the cheek for Ash.

The next day, Christmas Eve, goes by fast. Various family and friends are in and out of the house all day, stopping by to share their holiday greetings. Continuing your family’s tradition, the men head out in the afternoon to pick out and haul home a Christmas tree and after dinner, you all decorate it together.

Like you’ve done since you were kids, the lights in the living room get turned off for a dramatic “reveal” of the lit and decorated tree when you’re all finished. The multi-colored lights get plugged in and brighten up the room, illuminating your sister’s boyfriend down on one knee. You squeeze Ashton’s hand and subtly brush your pinky down the back of Calum’s hand. Her “moment” is perfect and you silently thank your boyfriends with your eyes for understanding why you wanted this for her.

After some dessert and celebratory cocktails, everyone is exhausted but happy to be together. Your dad gets a fire going and your sister puts on the old Rudolph special you loved as kids; you plop yourself in Ashton's lap on the couch, with Cal sitting close by, close enough for you to keep throwing him little glances undetected. You know it must’ve been hard for him to go back to bed alone after the time you spent together last night and even harder today, having to watch you and Ash continually couple up and be gushed over by your holiday visitors.

Halfway through the show, your dad starts snoring so Mom decides it’s time for them to head up to bed. Your sister and her fiancée make it through to the end of the show but when you suggest following it up with Frosty The Snowman, they decline and tell you and the guys goodnight.

After such a long day, filled with so much unspoken emotion, it's surprising how quiet the three of you are now that you're alone. Sitting with your men in a room lit only by the warm glow of the fire and the soft colored lights of the tree - this was the type of scene you imagined when you envisioned your first Christmas together. But the feeling's not quite right.

You peck Ashton on the cheek before sliding off his lap, moving to sit on the other side of Calum, putting him in the middle of you and Ash. You run a hand through his hair, tentatively at first, just in case everyone in the house isn't quite settled yet. "How are you, bub?" You ask softly.

He closes his eyes, leaning into your touch and you feel your heart both swell and break a little at how badly he was clearly needing your affection. "Good. Tired. Happy I can finally do this," he replies, leaning in to give you a short but needy kiss.

When he pulls back, he grabs your hand out of his hair and brings it up to his lips for a kiss; he waits a beat then reaches for Ash’s hand and kisses it as well. “Missed you too, bub,” you murmur with a smile.  

Ash looks at both of you, adoration in his eyes. You recognize that look on his face, the one that means he’s searching for the right words, trying to line up his emotions with his nervous tongue.  

You squeeze his other hand that’s resting on the back of the couch behind Cal, sensing he needs encouragement and he glances at you, grateful.

"We both missed you, Cal,” he starts, shaking his head as he decides to go all in. “I’ve missed you, is what I mean actually. Not being able to have you close the past few days has me realizing how much closer I would like you to be."

He cups Cal’s face, stroking gently with his thumb while he waits for his words to sink in and his nerves to settle. He inches forward and gently kisses him; it’s brief but Ash is purposeful in the way their lips slot together. When he gets bold and slips in his tongue, Cal visibly tenses and Ash pulls away gracefully, not wanting to push.

You stop yourself from obviously reacting but your heart feels like it might burst out of your chest. You've watched them both struggle to navigate their feelings for each other over the past four months and you couldn't be happier to see at least Ashton take a step towards clarity. You gently rest your palm on top of their intertwined hands and squeeze twice; a supportive one for Ash and a reassuring one for Cal.

Cal, dazed, turns to look at you briefly before his eyes briefly widen as if a light bulb has gone off. He grabs Ash’s neck to pull him in for another kiss, this one more desperate, with daring tongue and teeth.

You quietly pull your hand off theirs, not wanting to intrude on the intimacy of their moment. You can't deny that witnessing their hunger for each other has you feeling needy yourself but you know how important this exploration is for them, how important it is for the three of you, so you patiently sit and watch.

They eventually pull away from each other, panting. You see them exchange a look of some sort and then Calum is reaching for you; he kisses you feverishly while lifting you over his lap and fitting you in between him and Ash. His lips move down to your neck and suddenly Ashton's tongue is slowly tangling with yours; you can tell by his kiss he's still in his feelings and you do your best to match his energy, letting him know you're there for him.

You break apart, one of your hands in each of your boyfriends' hair. You all look back and forth between each other and quietly laugh, ecstatic to be alone together and ready to take advantage of this opportunity.

Ashton gives you another lingering kiss, massaging your breast over your sweater before pulling away and immediately drawing Calum in for a kiss; they sit up on their knees, making out over you and you watch how they lose themselves in it, yet keep their hands occupied in each other's hair, almost as if they're unsure if they should go further. They each let out a quiet groan and you note the tents forming in both of their pants; you decide to help them out and reach to palm their straining cocks while they kiss.

It surprises Ashton more than Cal; he stops their kiss to look down at you. He runs a hand over your face and smiles at you briefly before his mouth is back on Cal’s.

You turn toward Calum, gently lifting his shirt and kissing on his stomach. He lets out an appreciative moan for your touch and you take that cue to unzip his pants; he eagerly cooperates in helping you pull him out of his boxers.

“Oh god,” he moans against Ash’s mouth as you use yours to slick him up before stroking your hand over his now wet cock. You’ve missed him: his sounds, his taste, the way he feels against your skin, the way he appreciates you and the attention you give him. You press sloppy kisses to his length, grinning to yourself as precum beads at his tip, moving to kitten lick at it.

Ashton gently tugs on your hair, wanting attention for himself. You continue rubbing over his bulge, adding in a few squeezes, buying yourself a little more time with Calum. You finally pull off and look up at your boyfriends, still lost in each other, though Cal steals a glance down at you while Ash’s lips are pressed to his jaw. He gives you a little grin and pushes his hand under Ash’s shirt.

You notice Ash falter for a second in reaction to Cal touching him that way but he quickly recovers from his hesitation, moaning quietly and tucking a hand in your hair. You pull at the button on his pants, taking his cock out and slicking him up as well; you swirl your tongue around the head, enjoying the soft groans you hear coming from him, thrilled that you're not sure if they're being caused by you or Cal. You notice that his hand has left you and has begun unbuttoning Cal's shirt; Calum reaches down and yanks at the shoulder of your sweater, gesturing for you to take it off.

Ash quietly sighs at the loss of your mouth but is quickly distracted by kissing over Cal's now exposed chest; you pull your sweater over your head and tug your leggings down while you're at it, leaving you in your bra and panties. You give a small whimper of relief as you press your thighs together before reaching for the cocks on either side of you, shiny and red, begging for your attention. You stroke them both evenly and firmly, watching with pride as their expressions change in response to your actions.

Calum is the first to glance at you and notice your new state of undress. "Fuck, darlin', look at you," he rasps, leaning down to kiss you, sneaking his fingers inside your bra to play with a nipple. "Look so pretty under all these lights." Cal smiles against your lips as he feels Ash's hand stroke through his hair while he kisses you.

Ashton pulls his own shirt off and then his hand snakes between your legs, tracing over the front of the lacy, damp material. "Mmm, so wet for us, baby,” he teases lowly, dipping his fingers underneath your panties to tap lightly at your clit. “Think you’ll be able to keep quiet if we decide to do anything about it?” Cal groans as he sucks just below your earlobe; he loves how responsive you are when Ash taunts you like this.

Proving his point, you let out a whine before quickly biting your lip to fight back any other sounds that might come out. Ash chuckles, suddenly rubbing hard and fast at your clit just to see how much restraint you have. You screw your eyes shut, determined to remain silent. “You’re one to talk, most of the noises I’ve heard tonight have come from your mouth, love,” you point out once you catch your breath. You squeeze his cock and he breathes out a deep moan, proving your point.

Cal chuckles at the exchange and Ash shoots him a glare, pulling him back over to him. “Laugh it up,” he smirks, kissing his neck to distract from his hand traveling to thumb over Cal’s nipple; Cal loudly gasps, body rigidly jolting like he’s been struck by lightning. He grabs Ash’s face with both hands and muffles his moans with an intense kiss.

You turn your focus back to Ash’s cock, knowing Calum is already dealing with a lot of stimulation from the nipple play. You bob your mouth on him a couple times, just because you feel like it and then work on building a steady rhythm with your hand. You bite back another moan when Cal’s hand moves down to cover yours, essentially helping you jerk Ashton off.

Despite their obvious attraction, your boyfriends have never gone beyond the occasional kiss during sex with you so tonight had already been a big step for them. You look up and see Cal, Ash’s lips firmly attached to his neck, looking curious but confident as he watches his hand move with yours. Your eyes meet and you nod, understanding; you drop your hand from Ash’s cock, leaning back to watch Cal seamlessly take over, continuing with the rhythm you started.

Ashton immediately reacts to the difference in touch: the unknown grip, the new sensation of rough calluses running over his shaft, the unfamiliar feeling of a hand much larger than yours stroking him. “Cal,” he shakily breathes, pulling back to look at him.

“Is this alright?” Calum whispers, hoping the quietness of his voice will mask his nervousness.

Ash closes his eyes and leans his forehead against Cal’s, breathing deep, trying to ground himself, trying to process all the thoughts and emotions swirling in his brain right now.

“Don’t stop,” he states with certainty.

Cal’s hand swipes over the tip of Ashton’s cock, spreading around the precum he’s coaxed out, expertly keeping with the established rhythm. You watched Ash’s expression change from confusion to curiosity and now you see it switch to the confidence you’re used to seeing from him, especially in the bedroom; you see his hand fidgeting at his side moments before he clenches his jaw and reaches out to touch Calum’s cock. His strokes aren’t nearly as precise or measured as Cal’s are but his boyfriend doesn’t seem to mind; Cal lets out a throaty sigh of his name and you swear it’s the most erotic thing you’ve witnessed yet.

The men lock their mouths into another heated kiss while they continue to explore pleasuring each other; with them distracted, you slide yourself up and off the couch, moving down to the floor to give them some space and to give you some space to spread out and really enjoy the sight before you. You tug at your nipples like Cal would and slide your hand down your stomach and into your panties to swirl your clit like Ash would. You miss their touch but you’re more than happy to wait your turn for it this time.

Your eyes don’t leave them for a second as you make slow, careful work of pleasing yourself. You watch as Ash boldly tugs at Cal’s jeans, trying to pull them down more; he gets them just below his ass and his free hand grips it tightly. You let out a little moan and Ashton reaches his hand out for you, finally realizing you’re no longer between them.

They pull out of their own little world, searching for you. Calum spots you on the ground first. “What’re you doin’ down there, darlin’?” He teases, moving down next to you.

You press a quick kiss to his lips while he undoes your bra; he quickly moves his mouth down to your tits, lavishing your nipples with much needed attention. “Just enjoying the show,” you confess, looking directly at Ash.

Ash moves from the couch, grabbing a blanket to lay in front of the fireplace. He discards his jeans before beckoning the two of you over to join him. You both crawl over to the blanket and before you get settled, Ash helps your boyfriend out of the rest of his clothes. He wraps a hand around Calum’s cock; he pauses to look at you briefly and then back over to the beautiful man naked in front of him. His tongue darts out of his mouth and before any of you can process it, he’s licking the tip of Cal’s cock.

“Oh,” Cal moans, tucking his fingers into Ash’s hair. Ashton, feeling emboldened by that response, wraps his lips around the head, continuing to test the waters. “Yeah,” Cal mutters. “That… that’s good.”

Ash’s other hand pushes up your thigh and you interlace your fingers with his. You watch as he tests circling his tongue around the tip before pulling back to turn his attention to you. He pulls your panties down, kissing your thighs and up over your lips, letting his tongue spread them so he can tease your clit. He pulls up as Calum settles in next to him, wasting no time in getting his turn at flicking his tongue over your clit.

“Been so good for us, think it’s time we repay you,” Ash murmurs, kissing up to your hip. He watches you tangle your fingers in Cal’s hair and groans when you do the same to him. His hand travels down between your thighs and he pushes two fingers into you. “Cal’s tongue feel good for you?”

You bite your lip, trying to hold in a moan. “Yes, love.”

Cal continues working over your clit while his hand reaches up your body, giving attention to your nipples once again; Ashton’s fingers continue pumping inside you, mouth settled against your jaw, unceasingly affirming his and Cal’s affection for you.

“So patient tonight, love,” he whispers, mouthing along your neck, careful not to leave any marks. “Lettin’ me and Cal play while you’re over here so wet and needy.”

You take a deep breath, overwhelmed at all of the sudden attention. “Wanted it for you, could tell you both needed it,” you admit, digging your nails into Ash’s arm as Cal’s lips enclose your clit and start sucking. “Didn’t mind watching either.”

Ashton grins and plants a sloppy kiss on you; he pulls away to lean down and run his hand softly through Cal’s hair before pulling him up from between your legs to kiss him passionately. Both men groan at the realization that Ash can taste your arousal on Cal’s lips; Ashton takes it a step further and removes his hand from your pussy, sinking his drenched fingers into Calum’s mouth. Cal hollows his cheeks and sucks Ash’s fingers deep into his mouth, swirling his tongue around them, bobbing back and forth on them, wondering when he’ll get to give Ashton’s cock the same treatment.

For what feels like the hundredth time tonight, your jaw drops at the erotic sight before you and you reach out for one or both of your boyfriends to tend to you. Your head lolls back as you whine, “Please... babes… I need you so bad.”

Calum promptly pulls his mouth away with a lewd pop and lays on his side next to you. “Need you too, darlin’, you have no idea,” he murmurs as he grabs your hip, easily turning you to your side and slinging your leg over him. “Can’t remember the last time I went this long without having you.” He takes his cock in hand, running it up and down to coat it with your wetness before easing himself inside you, silencing your soft, relieved exhale with a kiss.

Cal softly rocks into you, sucking gently at your bottom lip, stroking your hair back with his hand; you feel Ashton lay down behind you and begin running his fingers down your back, quietly showing you his care while respecting the moment you and Cal are having, much like you respected their time together.

Your hand moves down to grab Cal’s ass, attempting to bring him even closer to you; you feel his muscles tensing and flexing under your hold as he pumps inside you and you bury your face in his chest to keep from crying out. You hear the slick sound of Ash’s hand working his cock as he watches you two together and you reach for him, wanting him near.

“I’m here, love,” he reassures you, nibbling at your ear, massaging over your breast. “You two look so fuckin’ good together, couldn’t help myself.” He extends his arm, reaching to squeeze Cal’s bicep.

Your hand searches behind you until it finds Ashton’s cock, throbbing against your ass; you give it a squeeze and he whimpers into your skin.

“Ash needin’ you too, baby?” Calum asks, voice scratchy with desire. “Know you’re gonna make him feel so good, just like you’re doin’ for me.” He gives you a couple more slow thrusts before he pulls out and helps you onto your other side where Ashton lays waiting.

You smile hazily at Ash as he lifts your leg over his hip and taps his cock against your clit. “So generous with your body, love,” he praises you, hissing as he slides into your wet heat. “Treatin’ us both so good tonight, thank you, baby.”

You caress his cheek as he starts slowly thrusting into you; you press your lips to his and you both lose yourselves in a slow, intimate kiss. Calum hangs back, watching you two communicate what you need to; when Ash breaks the kiss to moan into your mouth, Cal reaches over and begins to play with your breasts.

Ashton’s large hand grips your ass to pull you closer, getting a deeper angle that has you seeing stars. You twist your upper body toward Cal and he kisses you briefly before moving his lips back to your nipples. You push your hand down his body to find his cock, getting in a few strokes before he stops you. “Trust me, darlin’, I’m not needing any help right now.” His hand slips down your body to rub soft circles on your clit. “Let us focus on you.”

“Babes,” you sigh in the form of a soft moan, raspy as it leaves your lips. The sound is so sensual it causes Ash’s hips to lose rhythm and he lets go of your ass, giving a few shallow thrusts before pulling out.

“You gotta take Cal, baby, I need a minute,” he pants, clearly on the edge of losing it. He nuzzles his nose against yours, helping you turn back to your other boyfriend.

“Hey, darlin’,” Cal coos, grinning as he enters you again. You immediately pull him as close as possible.

“Want you both close,” you announce, looking over your shoulder at Ash. He scoots in against your back, kissing over your shoulders. You sigh, “Thank you.”

You give Ashton a short kiss before turning to press your face into Calum’s chest as he works his hips a little faster, harder. You feel a moan reverberating in Cal’s chest but it’s muffled when it spills from his lips; you look up to see him kissing Ash hungrily.

You moan, getting lost in your own world, letting Cal have your body, feeling his body on yours, Ashton’s body at your back, the strength in their frames as you lay between them.

Calum pulls out and turns you back towards Ash. Ashton is still breathing heavy and his kisses are needy, almost frantic, as he pushes into you. “I’m sorry, love, I’m s’close,” he chokes out. “Between you and Cal…”

You cut him off with a kiss. “Nothin’ to apologize for, love,” you murmur. “Want you to cum for me.”

His fingers dig in and hold on to your ass hard, pulling you tight against his body. “Cum for us, Ash,” Calum whispers as he slides his hand down to grip Ashton’s ass, causing Ash’s hips to stutter and jolt against you. You watch Ash pull on Cal’s neck so he can sink his teeth into Cal’s plump lower lip as he spills his cum into you, shuddering in your arms. You let out a loud moan and you all hold your breath waiting to see if it’s woken anyone up.

Once Ash comes down, he tenderly kisses you. “Love,” he murmurs. You give him a few more sweet kisses before you feel Calum’s eager fingers on your skin.

Ashton helps turn you around and his lips shower your shoulders and neck with affection as Cal sinks into you. He groans at the new sensation of Ash’s hot cum surrounding his cock, making you feel even more wet and warm to him.

Ash pushes his hand between your bodies and starts rubbing your clit in time with Cal’s thrusts. “It’s your turn, love, been so good and selfless tonight. Let Cal feel you cum,” he coaxes. “Look at you, look at Cal, look at how good you feel to our boyfriend.”

Cal’s eyes are screwed shut, his lip between his teeth as he tries to hold in any noises. “Calum,” you moan softly. His eyes open to find yours and you lean in for a feverish kiss, a kiss that becomes all tongue as you work your body against him.

Ashton mutters “Fuck” behind you and Cal lets out a guttural moan as you start to squeeze around his cock. You whine helplessly, “I’m cumming.”

“I feel that… let it go,” Cal encourages. You press your face into his chest to quiet yourself and without thinking you start biting and sucking his skin. Ash keeps rubbing your clit through your orgasm until you gently push his hand away, too sensitive to let him continue.

When Ash pulls his fingers up, it’s immediately noticeable they’re covered in both your arousal and his cum that leaked out of you. As soon as that registers to Calum, he grabs for Ash’s hand and takes his fingers into his mouth again, cleaning and sucking them like before. Once he’s done, Ashton takes the opportunity to explore a little more, pumping his fingers, treating Cal’s mouth like he does your pussy.

You shift yourself slightly back, leaning more into Ash so you can watch Calum come undone. You feel his hips continue to drive his cock into you as you watch the obscene way Ash fingers his mouth. You could almost cum again from the visual alone.

“Gonna cum for us, baby?” You breathe, out of your mind with desire. Cal glances at you with a question in his eyes but you answer it before he has a chance to ask. “It’s OK, I want you to.”

Ashton pulls his fingers from Cal’s mouth and pushes your bodies tighter together. He wraps his hand around the back of Cal’s neck, thumb caressing his cheek. “Need you to cum for us, handsome.” And that seems to do it for him. Cal’s hips falter and he clings to you, groaning deeply as he pumps you with cum. It’s the first time you’ve ever let him cum in you and it couldn’t feel more right. His body is tense for a few more moments and then he relaxes, first pressing his lips to yours and then to Ashton’s.

“You’re gonna make a mess,” he chuckles as he gently pulls out.

“We’ve got plenty we can clean her up with,” Ash shrugs.

Cal considers that point and sits up, lifting your thigh to watch in awe as his cum - at least he assumes it’s his - starts to leak out of you. “Incredible,” he murmurs, leaning in, pressing kisses along your thigh.

Ashton sits up to join him and his eyes ping pong back and forth between watching you drip and watching Cal’s reaction to it. He swirls his fingers in the cum that’s now pooling on your thigh. He pulls back a little, drawing your and Cal’s attention. You watch in shock as he pushes his fingers into his mouth, tasting all three of you together. He moans and repeats the action, only this time, pulling Calum in for a kiss, sharing the taste with him.

They break apart and the three of you smile at each other, basking in the intimacy of everything that’s just happened. Cal lays down next to you, stroking over your hair as Ash reaches for his shirt and cleans between your thighs. When he’s done, he curls up next to you and Cal kisses him and then you. “So lucky to have you both,” Cal murmurs.

“We’re the lucky ones,” Ash smiles, grabbing Cal’s hand, interlacing their fingers and letting them rest on your hip.

“I hate that you have to go to bed alone after this,” you pout, kissing on Calum’s jaw.

“I’ll be just fine, this was worth it. Thank you both,” he whispers sincerely. He squeezes Ash’s hand and kisses your forehead.

You’re practically asleep, warm and naked, feeling safe with your loves when they finally decide it’s time for bed. The guys quickly pull their clothes back on and help you into yours. Ash takes the blanket to the laundry room while you put out the fire and turn off the Christmas tree lights. You hold their hands as you navigate the dark house, pulling them up the stairs.

You stop at the guest room to say goodnight to Cal. “You should come to bed with us,” you whisper.

Calum smiles at you but shakes his head. “I think we’ve already pushed our luck quite a bit tonight, darlin’.” He looks to Ash for backup.

“Your sister got her perfect engagement, we pulled off the world’s quietest threesome… we should take the win,” Ashton chuckles quietly.

You pout but know they’re right. Cal pulls you into him by your hips and kisses you, slow but passionate. “Get to bed, darlin’.”

You walk to your room and stand in the doorway, waiting for Ashton. You smile as you watch your boyfriends flirt, easily the most comfortable they’ve ever been with each other. Ash actively reaches out to pull Cal into a kiss and you decide it’s a moment for them; you lay in bed and close your eyes, letting the memories of the evening wash over you, filling you with warmth and contentment.

Ashton quietly enters the room, unsure if you’re awake; you feel the bed shift as he climbs in and you turn over to gaze at him dreamily. “How you feelin’, love?” You ask, carefully, wanting to encourage him to share with you without seeming like you’re pressing.

He lays on his side and gives you a loving, appreciative look. “Happy. Excited. Very, very grateful to have someone like you by my side,” he reflects, gently tracing where your t-shirt has lifted to expose your hip. “I know it’s taken me a while to kind of figure out what I need from this relationship… even back when it was just us, honestly. You’ve just always been so patient and open with me and I hope I’ve made clear how much I appreciate that. And you.”

You scoot in closer, resting your head on his pillow, your face inches from his. “Even before Cal happened, I’ve only ever wanted you to be happy, Ash. With me, without me… with me with someone else…” You both giggle and you peck his lips sweetly. “I’m glad you’re finding your place in all this. And I’m happy to do whatever I can to help you find it.”

You know it takes a lot for Ashton to share with you like this and you savor it when it happens. You lay yourself on his chest and he strokes your hair as you quietly talk some more. You’re starting to drift off to sleep when you hear your phone buzz on the nightstand. You look up at Ash, concerned, before reaching for it.

“It’s Cal, asking if we’re awake?” You shrug, quickly responding that you are.

Seconds later, your bedroom door slowly opens and Calum carefully closes it behind him. Unlike the previous night, he doesn’t hesitate to help himself onto the bed and snuggle into your back, resting his hand on top of Ash’s on your hip.

“Couldn’t sleep. It just… I don’t know... didn’t feel right being without you both after that,” he explains, kissing your neck.

Light kisses and soft touches are exchanged between you all and then there’s a brief discussion about how long the cuddle session should be. You push to have Cal sleep in bed with you and Ash and though they’re reluctant at first, you eventually convince your boyfriends that the family will be none the wiser as long as you set an alarm to get him back to his room before everyone is up and around for Christmas morning.

Ashton untangles himself from you both to set both the alarm clock on the nightstand and the alarm on his phone, just to be safe. You turn towards Cal and peck his nose. “Feelin’ OK, bubba?”

He smiles, brushing your hair back. “Me? How are you? Tonight was kind of a lot. This week was kind of a lot, I feel like I haven’t checked in enough…”

“Bub, I’m so good,” you promise him, snuggling into his chest. “I’ve got you, I’ve got Ash… I get to wake up with you both on Christmas morning. It seems crazy to say but I actually think this all turned out perfectly.”

You feel Ash press himself tightly against your back, stretching his arms out to hug you both, sandwiching you between the two men. It’s sweet at first and then it quickly becomes silly and the three of you giggle quietly, giddy with exhaustion and affection.

“Plus, now everyone has an idea of what we're all like together so it won't come as too big of a shock when I post a picture of me kissing you both at midnight on New Year's Eve," you grin back and forth between the two.

Calum chuckles, "Oh is that the new plan?"

You wrap their arms tighter across you and contentedly say, "New year, new beginning. Let my sister have Christmas, New Year's will be ours."

Your words hang in the air as you all consider the weight of them. Ash breaks the silence by laughing to himself, causing both you and Cal to look at him with inquiry.

"Care to share?" You ask, using Cal's hand to playfully jab Ash's side, causing him to laugh more.

Ashton looks at you both and smirks, "I was just thinking… if tonight was Christmas sex at your family's house, the fuck are we gonna do to celebrate New Year's Eve at home?"

Calum snickers beside you, a naughty look on his face making you wonder what's running through his mind.

"Well," you start, playfully nipping under each of your boyfriends' jaws. "We've got a whole week to figure that out, now don't we?"

————-

Taglist issues again so my apologies if you get notif’d more than once (or not at all)

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[bubble-tea-bunny]

come fly with me

[hermes x reader]

author’s note: every time i see his name i pronounce it like the brand out of  habit even if there’s no accent grave lol

word count: 2,572

You sense the bright light of morning through your closed lids and it prompts you to wake. But even as your eyes slide open, you still feel as though you’re dreaming.

A man is kneeling down next to you. You don’t know who he is but perceive he means no harm, for his gaze as he observes you is concerned, no doubt wondering what you’re doing out here. You don’t remember falling asleep outside, but the weather has been so nice as of late, you wouldn’t put it past yourself to have drifted off after laying beneath the stars, simply appreciating their magnificence.

As your vision comes more into focus, and the blurred edges merge into finer lines, you note that the sun shines behind this stranger’s head, and it appears remarkably like a halo. Your focus slides lower, drifts over brown hair pulled back into a neat braid to avoid obscuring his face, the highlight of which are his eyes—brilliantly blue, like crystals, and putting the backdrop behind him to shame. He’s beautiful.

Suddenly you’re nervous to be the center of his attention, so rapt it’s like he can see right through you. You must look a disheveled mess in contrast, your own hair tousled, your eyes bleary with the last bits of sleep. But as if he can hear your thoughts, he smiles gently, a gesture to put you at ease.

“Hello,” he greets you. His voice is hushed, taking care not to disturb the peace of these early hours, and it’s warm, washing over your skin and fighting away the chill of the cool evening.

You open your mouth, poised to speak, but at first nothing comes out, though from nervousness or from the fact your vocal chords are still waking up after hours of not being used, you don’t know.

“I… I must have fallen asleep out here,” you state rather dumbly, because what else could it have been? It’s not as if anyone had carried you out here in the middle of the night. Your cheeks redden from embarrassment but the man’s smile widens, amused and—if you aren’t imagining things, owed to the idea that maybe you really are dreaming—charmed. Though for what reason, you haven’t the slightest clue.  You struggle to call yourself a picture of grace at any other point in a day, least of all fresh from sleep.

“It seems you have,” he responds. “I imagine it was comfortable?”

Not wanting to continue this conversation while still laying down, since it’s a little awkward, you sit up, and he backs away slightly to give you space. The notion of sleeping on the ground certainly doesn’t sound comfortable, and so you assume he asks this in light jest, but oddly enough, you don’t feel any stiffness or aches. Your body is relaxed, pliant. You feel well-rested.

“It was, yes…” you trail off, absentmindedly pondering on this anomaly.

The man nods, satisfied with your answer, and stands. You have to crane your neck to look at him, and as he turns his head to look out at the rolling hills, lush green and divided in the middle by a dirt path, you see a string around his neck which is attached to a golden helmet. The brim swoops and lifts in the back, colored silver to resemble a pair of wings.

Then he turns to you again, now offering you his hand. “Well the day is too nice to waste staying here. Would you like to take a walk with me?”

You’ve been aware this entire time that you don’t know who he is, and logic would dictate you turn down his invitation. No matter how nice he may be, it would be unreasonable as well as  unsafe. But even for all that, you find yourself not tied down by any semblance of reason, and perhaps it’s against your better judgment that you accept.

You take his hand and he pulls you up easily. Maybe it’s his smile that does well to quell any apprehension, for you think you would follow him anywhere. Maybe you were incorrect and to go with him now was the better judgment on your part, because you don’t feel that this is wrong or dangerous. And he’s right: the day is splendid and it would make no sense to stay on the ground alone. It’s better enjoyed with companions.

The two of you follow the trail for a while, pausing whenever small creatures cross from one side to the other: mostly bunnies and deer, but at one point when passing by a lake there’s a duck and her ducklings plodding single-file behind her. As the world around you wakes and you walk in comfortable silence, your anxiety melts away and you instigate a conversation.

“Were you just passing by and happened to see me?” you inquire.

The man glances down at you briefly before looking ahead once more. “I was.” He nods. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

He’s sincere as he says it, and it makes you grin. “Well I’m glad it was you who found me.”

The smile on his lips mirrors yours. “I am too.”

Flowers line the path, leaning inward as if to welcome any who walk past. They grab your attention, and you skip ahead to pick some of them. They only require a gentle tug for the stems to snap and you gather them until you’re holding a small bunch of the white flower in one hand. You bring them closer to your face so you can smell them: the scent is subtle and fresh, like the air after it rains. The man finally catches up to you and you twist around. There’s that expression in his eyes again, one of amusement, and again you blush, attempting to hide it by the flowers as you duck your head, but you don’t think you’re successful.

He peers over your shoulder. “Let’s go this way now. There’s bound to be more flowers in that direction.”

You turn and follow his line of sight. The trail has led to a forest, and veering off here would lead you into the thick of it. The man takes the last few steps to close the distance and stand next to you, and you look up at him. “Okay.”

Sunlight pierces the gaps in the foliage, the rays which light the ground soothing to behold and to walk through. It’s like a painting, calm and peaceful, displayed on the finest marble and you’re honored to be in the midst of it, maybe not as the subject, for you think the birds who cast shadows as they soar above you are more worthy of the privilege, but you’re content to be there at all, even just off to the side.

The woods lead to a meadow and the man was correct: there are more flowers here. Their colors vary, from white to lavender to yellow, and the sun envelopes them all in its heat, unhindered in this clearing. The tall grass shifts with your every footstep and brushes your calves, light as a feather, and you giggle. It tickles.

Your eyes rove over the expanse before you. There are more trees, another portion of forest,  on the other side, but this place is so peaceful, and the sun is in the perfect position, centered in the sky, that you would hate to leave so soon.

“I’d like to lay among these flowers…” you murmur. It’s an aside you mean to mutter only to yourself, but given your proximity to the stranger—no, not a stranger anymore, but more of a friend—he hears you fine despite the low volume with which you said it.

“Why don’t we?”

At this, you blink and glance up at him. He’s already watching you with a twinkle in his gaze and he’s smiling. You can’t help smiling too and you feel so warm to be in his presence.

So in the middle of the clearing you find a suitable spot and settle down, lying on your back with the bunch of white flowers still clutched in one hand. You have to squint and use your free hand to shield your eyes from the glare of the sun, but then you close them and the furrow of your brow relaxes, and you can fully enjoy the nature which surrounds you.

Dragonflies buzz and you can hear them flittering along, the beating of their wings louder as they approach, then becoming quieter as they pass. The grass shifts as your friend comes to join you now. He sits, and you hear a brief shuffling before he follows suit and lays down. Together you bask in the sunlight, but for how long, you aren’t sure. Not that you’re interested in tracking the time.

“Your suggestion to tarry a while was a good one,” he compliments, breaking the silence. “It feels pleasant to rest here.”

His compliment makes you grin and your eyes open. You turn your head to look at him. He’d removed his helmet from where it was hanging around his neck and placed it next to him to allow him to lie back comfortably. “The sun makes you feel so refreshed, doesn’t it?”

He hums. “I think it has more to do with the company.” He opens his eyes and also turns to look at you, and the blueness of them is incredibly soft. Your smile grows.

And though you’re confident you could pass the rest of the day in that meadow, the two of you move on. It’s done with a bit of reluctance on your part, but it fades quickly because you agree with him: it’s the company which makes you feel refreshed. The colors of the sky are shifting as mid-afternoon turns into early evening and it occurs to you that you have been walking since the morning yet you aren’t tired, nor has it felt like many hours have transpired. You know it has to do with him. You think you could do this forever, walking with him.

When the sky is a blend of indigo and orange, you ask if anyone is expecting him. We’ve been together all day, you explain. No one might wonder where you are?

He chuckles. “That’s kind of you to be concerned.”

Your cheeks feel warm. He’s awfully good at getting that reaction out of you.

“No one’s expecting me,” he continues. “But even if someone were, they’d understand my lateness, given I’m with someone so sweet. I’m not keen to part ways too soon.”

Your chest feels tight, like your heart is wrenching and you’re scared it might break. “Me neither,” you state shyly.

Then gradually the indigos and oranges transition to black as the sun fully disappears below  the horizon and you are sad to see it leave. You’ve also long since left the meadow and the forest surrounding it behind. The land you walk through is wide, flat, empty. There aren’t any plants or animals and it feels foreign, adjusted as you had been to the lush scenery of this afternoon. The only feature worth noting are the mountains that come into view now, which, while you’d already assumed them to be tall, are taller than you first thought as you get closer, so high they seem to touch the clouds, perhaps even extending past them.

“This way.” The man’s voice pulls your attention away from staring up at the clouds. There’s a path that leads farther into the mountain. “Watch your step. It’s rather dark.”

What light of the moon reaches through small gaps in the mountain reflects off the helmet strung around his neck. He takes care to move slowly to ensure you don’t lose him but the glint of his helmet serves as a beacon. The more you venture in, you wonder where you’re going. Should you ask him? The idea of doing so hadn’t crossed your mind all day because you’d been happy just to be with him, no apprehension about the destination, or whether or not  there was one. But now…

The words are on the tip of your tongue, about to be voiced, but they die out once you turn a final corner and spot a river. The water is dark, almost black, and a haze settles above it that obscures what might possibly be on the opposite shore. Once you do speak, it’s still a question, but it’s no longer about where the two of you are headed. He doesn’t need to tell you that.

“Wanted to let me down gently, didn’t you?” The manner in which you ask this is quiet, lightly teasing but also laced with a sadness you do little to hide.

Hermes—for now you know confidently who he is—leads you right to the edge of the water and then stops, twisting around. “I chose to take the longer route with you.”

You meet his gaze. His eyes are sorrowful, yet for their melancholy they are still just as beautiful, and they’re tender as he looks at you. “Why?”

He takes a deep breath, momentarily glancing at the water then returning his focus to you. “You hadn’t realized what happened, and I didn’t want to tell you. I decided we would venture through the nature you love so much, taking breaks where you desired, to listen to the bugs and to feel the sun.”

Thinking back to this morning, you recall that when you’d woken up, you hadn’t checked behind you. If you had, you would’ve noticed your body there. You’d been too enamored by Hermes to do that. Though you suppose there are worse ways of being led to the Underworld, and you’d always be grateful to Hermes for choosing to take the long way.

“Through it I’ve grown very fond of you,” he confesses. He offers a small smile, and you surmise it’s a struggle, at odds with a frown because of where he has brought you, and what it implies. “A day with you was a lifetime, and it still didn’t feel long enough.”

You muster a smile of your own. “One day or an eternity, I don’t suppose any length of time ever would.”

A boat comes into view, appearing to materialize through the fog, and once it stops at the small dock, the front bumping gently and the water lapping against the support beams, Hermes gives the ferryman two coins. Treat her well, he instructs. And then he turns to you a final time, and when your heart squeezes, you really think it has broken.

Glancing down, your eyes settle on the flowers you’re gripping. You’d kept them with you the entire journey. But now you hold them out to Hermes, and the heaviness in your chest seems to lighten slightly as he takes them and the expression on his face becomes a little less crestfallen. You would hate to leave him in such a forlorn state.

“Thank you, Hermes.” You hope he can detect the sincerity, and when he smiles faintly, you know that he has.

He helps you onto the boat, clasping your much smaller hand in his to provide support, and he stands on the shore as the ferryman pushes away, watching you until the fog engulfs the boat once more. And though he’s alone, the flowers in his hand make him feel far from lonely.

[smaidjor]

and i pay for my place by the ring (Chapter 2)

This chapter took me so fucking long but after much struggle I have completed it!

It was supposed to be 3-4k words. It was exactly 6069 pre-editing according to google docs.

You're welcome.

Chapter Title: with your blessing i will go

Chapter Wordcount: 6073

Content warnings: suicidal thoughts, self-esteem issues, discussion of death, non-graphic injury.

AO3

Chapter 1

i know they're losing (companion fic)

Actual fic under the cut:

The next few weeks are miserable, and if Scott tried to claim anything else, he would absolutely be lying to himself. Not that he doesn’t already do that, but he’s not too proud to admit that not seeing Jimmy is torturous. He knows he can’t, he’s firmly placed Jimmy on the off-limits list, but that doesn’t make the self-imposed rule any easier to follow. There’s still a part of him that wants to go running back to Jimmy’s arms, to beg for forgiveness and pray that Jimmy’s warmth is enough to curb the chill in his bones.

Scott shoves that part of him down firmly. He has no time to hesitate or regret, and he will not spend his days pining and sighing over a human. (Or so he tells himself.) He will be the perfect model of an elven king if that’s what it takes to gain his people’s respect, and he will make his parents proud, not that they’re around to see it. He will . Because Scott may not care about what the Council of Elders thinks of him- he hasn’t for twenty years now- but he does care that the people of Rivendell get a leader who cares for their wellbeing. It’s the least he can do, really.

So he takes on the meetings and the paperwork and the aching, gaping hole in his chest with grim determination, ignoring the way his hands always seem to shake a little and he can never quite get warm. It’s fine. Scott is fine. He’s not going to think about golden smiles or warm brown eyes or the look on Jimmy’s face when Scott told him it was over. He’s fine .

Flipping through the stack of official mail he’s received, Scott’s startled when his hand falls on an elegant cream envelope stamped with the crest of the Ocean Empire. How long has this been here? He hurries to get it open, nearly slicing himself on the letter opener in the process.

Out slides an official invitation in neat cursive.

To High King Scott Dangthatsalongname Smajor, Lord King of the Rivendell Empire,

You are cordially invited to a royal ball to be held at the palace of Ocean Queen Lizzie Ldshadowlady, Queen of the Northern Waves and Reefs, at 8 pm on the fifth of August.

Formal attire is required.

RSVP as soon as possible.

At the bottom of it, there’s a note in slightly more rushed handwriting.

Smajor- elvenking or not, I will not appreciate it if you mess with Jimmy in any way, shape or form. This ball is to be a peaceful affair, and I will not hesitate to intervene should anything occur.

Lizzie

Scott winces. He...can’t say he doesn’t deserve the warning, any more than he can say that it doesn’t hurt to be warned away from his own husband. Ex-husband, he quickly reminds himself, reaching for stationary to pen a response.

Dear Ocean Queen Lizzie Ldshadowlady, Queen of the Northern Waves and Reefs,

He stops, giving it a bit of thought. Would avoiding Jimmy be worth the political consequences of refusing an invitation like this? No, he concedes reluctantly, it wouldn’t. He can always just avoid Jimmy at the ball- Lizzie would probably be happy for it, honestly. She’s been protective over him from the start. Scott puts the pen back to paper.

Luckily, I will be able to attend the ball. It sounds like a wonderful event and I eagerly anticipate it. As for your note, I will avoid antagonizing Jimmy as much as possible. I would hate to sacrifice diplomatic relations between our kingdoms for a petty squabble. Will that be satisfactory?

Sincerely,

High King Scott Dangthatsalongname Smajor

What’s going on between him and Jimmy is far more than a petty squabble, but Lizzie doesn’t need to know that. It’s fine. It’s not like he’s going to run into Jimmy anyways, right?

The day of the ball arrives, and Scott spends far too long choosing an outfit. He’s not vain, not usually, but...Jimmy will be there. You’re not supposed to want to impress him , Scott scolds himself, but that doesn’t stop him from wearing his nicest golden jewelry. The rest of his outfit is far more strategically planned- long skirts to hide how terrible his balance is when he’s near-constantly struggling to get a full breath into his lungs, gloves to keep his dance partners from questioning his cold hands.

The ball is already in full swing by the time he arrives, the trip from Rivendell taking longer than he thought it would. He’s still greeted by the Ocean Queen herself, though, gliding over in her stunning ballgown of blue and green.

“Welcome!” Her smile is bright, warm in a way he almost envies.

Scott dips his head just enough to be respectful but not so much as to truly defer to her. He thinks that’s right, anyways; he hasn’t had to think about that particular part of etiquette lessons in some twenty years. “Thank you, Queen Lizzie. I apologize for my lateness, the trip was a bit harrowing.”

“No problem at all, I just hope you enjoy the ball!” Lizzie’s smile gains a sharper edge. “I appreciated your letter, by the way. Thank you for your promise to keep it civil, King Smajor. Now we just all have to follow through on our words!” She accompanies that bit with a little laugh, but Scott’s not a fool enough to take it as anything but a warning. She doesn’t want trouble at her ball, and who would, really?

“Hopefully we can manage at least that,” he offers wryly, earning another laugh and a bright “Hopefully!”

Scott doesn’t mean to cause trouble at the ball, he really doesn’t. But before he has a chance to even get a look around, Jimmy’s standing in front of him. And oh, this really isn’t how he hoped it’d go.

“Lord Codfather,” Scott greets, swallowing the lump in his throat. Jimmy cleans up nicely- really nicely- but Scott’s eyes keep going to the scar on his throat, the permanent reminder of how fragile and mortal Jimmy really is.

“Elvenking,” Jimmy says. The formality sounds awkward in his bright voice, and Scott wants to kiss the uncertainty right off his face. “Care for a dance?”

He can’t- he should, Scott knows. There would be value to an alliance with Jimmy, and he has no good reason to turn him down. That’s not why he says yes, though. It’s that look in Jimmy’s eyes, the hope poorly disguised by indifference. He’s so optimistic. Scott shouldn't encourage it, but he can’t find it in himself to break that fragile hope just yet.

“I suppose I wouldn’t mind,” Scott says finally. He takes Jimmy’s outstretched hand in his own gloved one; Vilya rests on Jimmy’s finger, still, and it’s a battle to keep the memories of giving Jimmy that ring at bay. He wins that battle, though, letting Jimmy put a hand on his waist as they start into a simple waltz.

Jimmy is a terrible dancer, and Scott knows it. He steps on Scott’s feet, he gets off-rhythm- he’s frankly not made for dancing, much as the way he hums along to the tune is adorable. His hair, which was probably once nicely styled, has already fallen out of place, and his tunic is a little wrinkled. His hands are rough, tough from all the work he does with them, and his face has a tiny bit of mud on it that he must have missed when getting ready. He looks very much like a sweet little swamp boy, out of place in the midst of all the more elegant and powerful rulers.

He’s the most beautiful thing Scott’s ever seen.

Unlike the last time they danced, back in 3rd life where Jimmy leaned on Scott for balance as he tried to learn the complicated steps, this time it’s Scott clinging to Jimmy for stability. He feels bad about how harsh his grip gets, but he can’t afford to show weakness. He has to stay on his feet.

Scott’s silently thankful when the dance ends and he can lead them off the dance floor. He’s exhausted and shaky, and he’s not sure how much longer he can be around Jimmy without breaking down or doing something very stupid.

“Thank you for the dance, Codfather,” Scott says. He takes a step back, banishing the lingering emotion of their dance.

A beat of silence, and then.

“Can we please stop acting like we don’t know each other?” Jimmy demands, earning a ripple of gasps from nearby guests.

“What else do you want from me?” Scott snaps back, anger rising to fill the gap in his chest.

“I- something! Anything! Just acknowledge that I exist, won’t you?”

Scott swallows down the lump in his throat. “Acknowledging you exist doesn’t mean I can still be in love with you, you know.”

“I know,” Jimmy says. He sounds so bitter, so tired. “I know , trust me. I just want you to stop- to stop hurting yourself to try and avoid pain!”

“That’s not what I’m do-”

Jimmy cuts him off, a rare occurrence. “Then what are you doing? Enlighten me, o wise elf! You told me it would destroy you to lose me, but you’re losing me now by pushing me away!”

His chest tightens, and he can barely force the words out. “I’m trying to do what’s best for the both of us, Jimmy.”

“No you’re-”

It’s Scott’s turn to cut him off. “I am an elf, and I cannot love a mortal. Humans are quick flames, burning and changing quickly. You’ll fall in love again, and you’ll forget me.” It hurts, but it’s true. There will be a mortal who loves you- I’m sure there are many already.” Jimmy’s so wonderful, there are bound to be others who see it.

“But I don’t want a mortal,” Jimmy says. It’s almost childish, but his next words still break Scott’s heart. “I want you. ”

“You can’t have me.” Scott is vividly aware of the fact that there are eyes on him, that their little spat has attracted the attention of the rest of the ballroom.

“But why? Why, Scott?” Jimmy’s voice breaks, and the crack in it is damn near enough to make Scott lose his tiny bit of remaining self-control. “You said you loved me, you promised me all the time we’d be able to- to carve out, to steal from the universe.” It sounds like an accusation, and maybe it is. Scott did promise him that, after all, and then he went back on it.

It wasn’t for no reason, though. He needs Jimmy to understand that it was for a reason. “I can’t give you that!” He snaps back, and his hands tremble when they try to form fists by his side. “You’ll live sixty more years, maybe, a fraction of my life, a blink of an eye to an elf, and I can’t even give you that long! Not when I have to be the elvenking before anything else. Nothing I can do will ever be enough for you.” It’s bitter, but it’s true. Scott can’t be enough for anyone, in the end.

“Enough for me? For ME?”Jimmy’s voice rises in outrage. “All I want is for you not to die to your own dumb plan and acknowledge my existence once in a while!”

Scott’s voice rises in response. “And all I want is for you to realize I can’t love you again!”

“Why can’t you care about me?”

“Why can’t you move on?”

“You’re not moving on, you’re just trying to forget!” Jimmy shouts.

Scott falls silent, breathing hard as the ballroom goes quiet around them. He spots Lizzie sweeping through the crowd, coming to a stop next to Jimmy.

“Is everything alright, boys?” She’s smiling, but it’s strained, and her eyes promise death if this quarrel was Scott’s fault.

“My apologies, Ocean Queen,” he says, and he tries to gather his composure as he dips his head to her. “Everything is alright, but I am afraid I will have to leave early.” He doesn’t look at Jimmy.

She smiles again, dangerous this time. “No need to worry, Lord Smajor. Do try to avoid picking fights with my allies, next time, though.”

“It won’t happen again,” he promises, and he only nearly stumbles when he turns to leave.

Distantly, he can hear Jimmy shout after him. “Coward!” The word is harsh, but there’s hurt beneath it. “You’re a coward, Scott!”

Scott stumbles away all the quicker.

He keeps composed all the way out the doors and most of the way down the stairs until he’s sure no one can see him from the ballroom. It’s only then that he breaks into a run, lifting up his stupid skirts so he doesn’t fall. One shoe falls off, a twisted parody of a children’s fairy tale, and he doesn’t bother to retrieve it. The prismarine stabs at his exposed foot, but Scott doesn’t have the energy to care. Instead, he beats his wings, trying to get enough momentum for a good takeoff.

For a few precious moments, he gets off the ground, and then he remembers Jimmy’s face as he left, wingbeats stuttering with the sudden emotion, and tumbles back to the rough prismarine path. It hurts , it does, but it’s nothing on the pain in his chest. Nothing on the words still echoing in his head. Coward! You’re a coward, Scott!

Scott lays there for a moment, half-wondering if anyone’s coming after him. It’s unlikely, he knows, given how badly he messed things up. He tells himself that that’s a good thing, that he doesn’t want anyone to come looking. He doesn’t need them. He should be strong.

Before anyone has time to notice or be concerned, he’s forced himself back to his feet, starting the takeoff sequence all over again.

This time, he gets in the air with little difficulty, though he lists to the side as he favors his right wing, which took the brunt of the fall. It’s fine. He’s fine, he doesn’t need help.

If Scott believed in the elven gods anymore, he would thank them for the fact that he gets back to Rivendell at all. There are tears blurring his vision, and every part of his body aches, his chest most of all. His flight is shaky at best, outright dangerous at worst, crashing into trees and rocks and the ground multiple times. Each time, he barely picks himself back up before mobs arrive. Sometimes, he questions if he should at all. He’s as good as dead anyways. And yet, the tiny stubborn part of him that got him through 3rd life won’t let him just lay down and die. For some reason, even though he’s slept enough recently (he thinks, anyways), there are phantoms on him. They sense when their prey is sleep-deprived, Scott knows, and wonders if he’s just weak enough to seem that way to them.

By the time he crash-lands on the mountainside, it’s pushing two in the morning, and Scott is more dead than alive. Not that he hasn’t been for a while now, he thinks, and laughs aloud to himself, bitter.

The night watch give him strange looks, but both elves on guard duty obligingly dip their heads when he stumbles by. He barely musters the energy to nod back.

Finally he makes it back to his house, slamming his door behind him and burying his face in his hands. This is the right thing to do, why does it hurt so much? He already lost Jimmy once, why does it feel like he’s losing him all over again when he never really got him back in the first place?

Someone coughs lightly, breaking through his thoughts. The voice is familiar when they speak- one of his advisors. “Lord Smajor? Any major events we should know of at the ball?”

Cold. Calm. Scott knows this is the way of the elves- their royalty cannot dare be human. “The Codfather’s our enemy and the Ocean Queen probably hates us too.” He doesn’t bother trying to make himself sound calm and collected, pushing off the wall and stalking towards the stairs.

“What?” The advisor’s voice pitches up in shock. “What did you do?”

“None of your business.”

“You cannot have embarrassed the elven realm at the largest event of the year-”

“It wasn’t like I was fucking trying to,” He snaps.

A gasp. “Language.”

“Fuck off.”

They hurry after him, making to follow him up the stairs. “Lord Smajor-”

Scott turns to face them, taking in the shock and rage painted across their ancient face. “Leave me be.”

“Do not disrespect your elders,” the advisor scolds. “I remember when you were a child, you always were reckless, but this is a new level of disrespect! Why, Xornoth would never-”

“ Enough ,” he hisses. “Do not talk about my sibling.”

They freeze, a bit of genuine fear creeping onto their face. “My lord-”

“Get out of my house,” Scott snarls.

They wisely obey. Scott slumps against the banister as the surge of adrenaline abates, suddenly exhausted. He’s freezing, he realizes, a bone-deep chill that he doesn’t bother to pretend is from his trip home. Scott’s done lying to himself- he’s in pain, and he’s in love, but then again, those equate to roughly the same thing when all’s said and done. You can’t have heartbreak without love or love without heartbreak. (But oh how he wishes he could.)

Scott doesn’t get out of bed the next day, and no one dares try to force him. Varying members of Rivendell’s Council of Elders make a decent shot at trying to convince him, but all it takes is him fixing them with his dead-eyed stare to make them leave. The people of Rivendell are used to their ruler’s odd sleep schedule by now, brushing it off easily, and the empire itself is mostly functional without him. So instead of getting up and dealing with the corruption or making sure Rivendell’s stores are prepared for winter or any of the things he should be doing, Scott lays there in his own misery and thinks about Jimmy screaming that he’s a coward.

He’s right, that’s the worst part. Scott is a coward. He’s scared of Xornoth and the corruption and never, ever being enough, he’s scared of responsibility and his own mind, he’s scared of fading and dying alone, and- most of all- he’s absolutely terrified of how much he loves Jimmy.

His father warned him about fading, once, back before Scott was expected to carry a crown on his brow and the weight of a nation on his shoulders. He bounced Scott on his knee and told him that elven hearts are fragile, too fragile for how strongly they love. “Don’t fall too deep in love, son,” he said, and the words carried the weight of years of grief. “Don’t care too much about any one person, not if you want to live to be a legend of the ages. Doesn’t matter what kind of love it is, love can be lethal.”

Scott didn’t listen, of course- reckless, rebellious Scott, who never once listened to his elders, went and did the most dangerous thing an elf could do. He fell in love with a human.

And now he’s dying. Surely that gives him a pass to wallow in his own misery for a day or two. He’s been brave for so long, can’t he just rest a few moments? Just...just a few. He’ll just lay here a bit longer.

At that moment, the front door creaks open somewhere below him.

“My lord? Can I come up?” Someone calls from below. Their voice is also familiar- Gilnar. Gilnar’s a good captain of the guard. Dutiful, clever, and far more willing to respect him than most of Rivendell’s high ranking elves.

“If you’ve come to convince me to get up, it won’t work,” Scott calls back.

Gilnar’s head peeks over the railing a moment later. “Nope, not here for that. Just thought I’d check in, y’know?” The Sindarin words sound almost musical in their accent, rolling up and down with a unique sort of rhythm.

“Alright.”

“Are you okay, my lord?”

“No.” He’s done lying. “Leave me be.”

Gilnar shakes their head. “Sorry, my lord, can’t do that.”

“If you’re going to tell me my people need me, don’t waste your breath. I know .” Scott’s voice cracks on the last word, just a little.

“Not that either. But with all due respect, seems a little like you’re givin’ up on yourself just a bit, my lord.” They lean against the railing.

“What do you mean by that?”

They cough, a little awkwardly. “The soul-sickness. The fading.”

Scott’s mouth opens and closes, and he sputters. “How-”

“Trainin’ with the royal guard a few weeks back, your hands were freezin’ and your balance was off. You haven’t gotten up at a reasonable hour in weeks, and, well, with all due respect- I know what heartbreak looks like.”

He’s silent for a moment, utterly floored. “What do you mean by giving up?”

“Well, Lauriel and I were talkin’, and….your love’s still alive, isn’t he? The Codfather?”

“How did you-”

Gilnar flashes him a tiny grin. “He’s not subtle, and neither are you. Plus, he has Vilya.”

Deciding to shove that to the back of his mind for now, Scott sighs. “He’s a mortal, Gilnar. I’m not giving up anything that I won’t already lose in sixty years or so.”

“Luthien loved Beren, didn’t she?”

“I am not Luthien. I cannot sing so well that the gods grant me pardon.”

“And Idril loved Tuor.”

“I am not Idril. I cannot bring Jimmy to the Undying Lands.”

“Arwen still loved Aragorn.”

“I am not Arwen. I do not have the choice to give up my immortal life.”

Gilnar’s smile turns sad. “Caranthir still loved Haleth. And Celebrimbor loved Narvi just the same, didn’t he? The doomed love all the more fiercely, my lord.”

“The rest of the elves won’t be happy with me,” Scott points out.

“You think Thingol and Turgon and Elrond were happy when their daughters loved mortals? You think Luthien’s people didn’t scorn Beren at first?”

Scott doesn’t have any retort to that, and Gilnar hops up from their seat on the banister. “Well, I need to get back to my duties, my lord. Good luck with your swamp boy!”

They’re gone as soon as they arrive, and Scott stares up at the ceiling, his thoughts dragging him along a spiral of emotion.

“Coward! You’re a coward, Scott!”

Scott is a coward. He’s a liar and a coward. Nothing he does will ever be right.

“Don’t fall too deep in love, son.”

Scott did, though. Like the idiot he is, he fell in love with someone the universe didn’t want him to have.

“Caranthir still loved Haleth.”

He did. And he paid for it. Does it matter? Scott thinks that losing Jimmy might be a price worth paying for the joy of loving him.

“You cannot have embarrassed the elven realm at the largest event of the year-”

Scott didn’t mean to, but he still messed up and shouted at Jimmy. He’s a failure. Jimmy could do better. He deserves better.

“I don’t want a mortal. I want you .”

Jimmy’s so stupid. Stupid Codfather with his stupid bright eyes and stupid, stupid insistence on not giving up on someone he should never have loved to begin with. Scott loves him so much more than he could ever put into words.

“With all due respect, seems a little like you’re givin’ up on yourself just a bit, my lord.”

Jimmy deserves an apology. Scott won’t give up.

(Not on Jimmy, anyways.)

It takes him nearly a month of furious work to make the precious mithril bracelet, refining it over and over again. He picks the flowers and their meanings carefully- love, hope, protection- and the crystals too. Amethysts for protection, carefully traded for filled with any bit of magic he can spare for them. The lettering carved into the underside is yet another layer of blessings and meaning; he does it in Quenya, the Tengwar script, which Scott knows Jimmy can’t read. He has to look up how to write in it after so many years of never so much as looking at elven script, pouring over old books by candlelight. By day, he rules an empire, relying on the rush of adrenaline and motivation to carry him through even on the days when he’s swaying on his feet by the end. By night, he works on a courtship project like none he’s made before until at last, at nearly three in the morning one night, it’s finished.

It’s not the most beautiful it could have been. Scott isn’t one of the great Noldor smiths of old, he’s just an elf in love. His hands are perpetually shaky nowadays, and he has limited time to work on it between every other responsibility in his life. But every centimeter of it is handmade with all the care he could muster, and that has to count for something.

Scott hardly wants to wait to give it to Jimmy, but he forces himself to try and wait for morning. His anxiety doesn’t let him sleep much, exhausted as he is, but he curls up under the covers and stares at the bracelet on his nightstand. He doesn’t want to take his eyes off it, half-convinced it will vanish if he does. Eventually, his eyes slide shut of their own will, carrying him into an uneasy sleep.

He wakes up long after the sun's risen, staggering out of bed and throwing on a cloak for the journey to Jimmy’s. The cold that he’s been banishing with the warmth of a forge has returned tenfold, and he’s shivering despite elves normally being resistant to chills. When he takes a glance at himself in the mirror, he finds that his hair is out of place, there’s a streak of ink across his cheek, and the dark circles under his eyes look like bruises. He looks a mess, and he doesn’t care. Jimmy is all that matters now.

The journey’s both long and rough, and his landing in the swamp is more like a frantic swan dive out of the sky. Luckily, though, the ground is soft here, and Scott’s able to pick himself up and hurry for Jimmy’s house, ignoring the stares of a few Codland citizens. He knocks, heart in his throat as he waits for the door to open.

The hinges squeak, and suddenly Jimmy’s standing there, a mix of emotions that Scott doesn’t even want to try and comprehend scattered across his face. He looks a little sleepy despite the fact that it must be near noon, and so very sweet with his hair falling in his face. The sight of him knocks the air right out of Scott’s lungs, and he has to struggle to remember why he’s here again for a long moment as they stare at each other.

“Hi,” Scott says weakly.

“Scott? What- why are you here?” Jimmy sounds outraged, and Scott can’t blame him.

Scott swallows hard. “I came to apologize.” His tired brain scrambles for words, something, anything to convey how truly sorry he is. “I was scared- I am scared. I’m terrified to lose you again. But I shouldn’t have pushed you away and hurt you.”

“No, you shouldn’t have!” Jimmy snaps.

“I know.” God, he didn’t expect it to hurt this much to hear the rage in Jimmy’s voice. “I- uh- fuck.” Scott fumbles to get the box he put the bracelet in, holding it out. “I brought a gift as an apology.”

Jimmy’s silent for a long moment, examining the bracelet. Scott barely dares breathe as he turns it over and over in his hands, tracing the flower designs with his fingertips. “Did you make this yourself?”

“Mhm. I did my best, but it’s not as nice as I’d like.” And, well, isn’t that just the story of his life?

“It’s pretty,” Jimmy says. He sounds genuine.

Scott lets out a breath, letting some of the tension go. “It’s spelled, too. Protection, good fortune, that sort of thing.”

“Do the flowers mean something?”

“They do.”

Jimmy doesn’t press for details.

“I-” Scott starts, and then pauses. What does he say? An apology would be a start, maybe. “I’m sorry, Jimmy, I really am. I won’t ask you to forgive me, but I needed to apologize before my time ran out.” It’s the truth, as wholly as he can bear to give it.

“Is it that- that dire?” Jimmy’s voice shakes a little, and Scott gives a tiny nod.

“This is what I chose to do with it. Making that, coming here. You deserved an apology.”

Jimmy goes quiet again. His eyes are still on the bracelet, and Scott can hardly breathe again.

Finally, he can’t take the tension. “It wouldn’t be fair of me to ask you to love me. I can’t promise you eternity. I can’t promise you happiness. I can’t promise you that I won’t have to be the elvenking first and a husband second. But I am still yours-” he’s always been, really- “if you’ll have me.”

The silence that falls after that is even more stifling than the previous two. Scott doesn’t expect Jimmy to want him back- far from it. He’s putting his heart in Jimmy’s hands, but he doesn’t expect anything other than it shattering on the floor. Maybe Jimmy will be kind enough to let him down gently, but Scott’s fragile enough that it would only take a tiny nudge to break him. And yet he can’t stop the tiny bit of hope that blooms, though it dwindles minute by minute as Jimmy stares and stares. Finally, he opens his mouth to make his apologies again and leave to his frozen, icy empire-

And then there are hands in his hair and lips on his, warm and sudden and bold. Scott gives a little startled gasp, which is swallowed up by Jimmy’s kiss. Their noses knock together and Jimmy’s teeth click against his just a little in their haste, but Scott’s far too overwhelmed by the sudden rush of warmth to care.

When Jimmy finally pulls away, Scott’s left breathless, cheeks warm in a way no part of him has been since Jimmy died in 3rd life.

He barely pulls himself together enough to manage a wry little “So, I’ll take that as you want to stay married?”

“Of course I do! You absolute idiot!”

Jimmy sounds so startled and offended at the idea that he wouldn’t , Scott’s not sure whether to laugh or cry. “Just checking.”

Jimmy kisses him again in response, and who’s Scott to protest? No, he’s more than happy to let Jimmy pull him close and kiss away the lingering sorrow. When Jimmy pulls away this time, he’s left dizzy, half caught up in the euphoria of being loved, half terrified that this is only a cruel dream.

By the time Scott collects himself again, Jimmy’s holding out the bracelet to him. “Can you help me put this on?”

Scott can only nod, fumbling with the clasp a little. It’s not complicated, but his hands aren’t steady, and it takes him a moment to get it. Jimmy grabs his hands when he lets go, and he’s so warm that Scott can’t muster the energy to even question why.

“Come in and catch up with me?” Jimmy offers.

Scott nods again, and he can’t bear to let go of Jimmy’s hand when Jimmy turns to go inside.

They talk a lot, Jimmy more than Scott. Scott learns that Jimmy’s been picked on by other rulers (no surprise, but his blood still boils at the thought), and he shares minimal details about what he’s been up to. Jimmy doesn’t need to hear about Scott’s issues, he’s already dealing with enough.

Eventually, though, the sun is starting to set.

“I need to get home,” Scott says, though he has to force himself to. “You need sleep, not to stay up all night talking.” He goes to get up, and Jimmy immediately lunges, catching his sleeve.

“Don’t go! Please.” Jimmy sounds almost afraid, which instantly sets off alarm bells.

“Jimmy, darling, we both need to sleep,” Scott tells him, very patiently.

“We can sleep! I just….nevermind.”

Now the alarm bells are really going off in Scott’s head. He knows when his husband is hiding something serious, and Jimmy’s frantic tone isn’t helping his worry. “No, no. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Jimmy claims.

Scott frowns at him lightly. “ Jimmy .”

That’s all it takes. “I don’t want to be alone!” Jimmy blurts. He’s blushing a little. “It’s just, I’ve been alone for a long time, and there’s this demon thing that keeps showing up, and I’ve only just got you back, I’m not ready to let you go, and-”

Oh, Jimmy . Scott holds up a hand in a ‘stop’ gesture. “Hold on. What was that about a demon?”

“There’s this demon creature that I keep seeing, and it’s really messing with me. It sounds like you, sometimes, but all distorted, and I can’t handle it! You know me, I’m not brave or smart or anything, I’m just Jimmy!” Jimmy’s voice pitches up with distress, and Scott’s heart aches for him.

“Alright,” he says, as gently as he can manage. “How about you come to Rivendell for the night, then? I can protect us both easier there.” More like, Aeor can protect them. Scott’s useless, even with Vilya.

Jimmy nods and takes Scott’s hand with a tiny little “Thank you.”

“Always,” Scott murmurs. It comes out softer than he means it to, though it’s the truth. He’ll always do whatever he can to protect Jimmy, which is why he asks “Do you still have the ring I gave you?”

“I do, I just… give me a moment to remember where I put it.”

“Good. It’s important.” Vilya is one of the most important parts of his heritage, actually, and his advisors would pitch a fit if they knew he had given it to a mortal. For once, he can’t bring himself to care what his advisors would think, though. Jimmy is important, more important than any piece of jewelry.

Jimmy follows Scott to Rivendell, and Scott can’t resist a proud smile when Jimmy praises the buildings. He takes Jimmy inside, lets him curl up under the warm covers, his head tucked against Scott’s chest, and it’s only once Jimmy’s asleep that Scott lets himself break. He’s so tired , so utterly exhausted from being brave for so long. Even now that his husband is curled up next to him, warm and solid and real, he can hardly believe that Jimmy actually wanted him back- wanted him at all, really. Scott doesn’t want to move for fear of waking up Jimmy, but luckily for him, he’s good at crying silently. That’s what he does, tears slipping down his face to wet the pillow below. Only the faintest whimper escapes his lips, a tiny broken noise that he’s embarrassed of even in this emotional state. And when another slips out, he buries his face in Jimmy’s hair and forces himself back into silence. He’s not going to cry over the best thing that’s ever happened to him, he isn’t , but he’s just so tired of being alone that being with someone else is almost painful in contrast; he’s so cold that the slightest touch of warmth feels burning.

Jimmy shifts in his sleep, mumbling something that sounds vaguely affectionate and pulling Scott closer, and Scott nearly chokes from the effort of restraining a sob. Gods, Jimmy . He could die like this, tucked in his husband’s arms, and he doesn’t think he’d regret it.

“I love you,” he whispers into the night. It comes out choked. “I love you so much. I’m so sorry, Jimmy, I’m so sorry.”

Jimmy mumbles something that sounds a lot like “I love you too”, and that’s what really breaks Scott. It’s a miracle Jimmy doesn’t wake up, really, with Scott’s quiet sobs shaking the mattress. He cries until he’s all out of tears, as silently as he can manage, and only then does he slip into a sound sleep.

[sailingintothenight]

“Put your head on my Shoulder.” T.H. Imagine.

Summary: And what if after years of chasing each other like a cat and mouse, on a magical night where you two have to pretend to be a couple, you are finally able to say how you really feel about each other?

A/N: Hello everyone, after a while, and because a couple of people asked me, I wrote the second part of this story, "WANNABE", but you don't have to read it to understand this one. Anyway, I really hope you like it. Please give this story a lot of love. Thank you - V.

Tom Holland hates not being able to hate you.

The secret of his hate is because of your vanity, your selfish and free heart, your tender smile, the dimple that forms on your left cheek and your dreamy eyes that look at your grandfather as if he were the first man that you have ever loved — because you did.

Tom hates you because under a starry night, in the midst of a crowd of people and soothing music, you make your way through the mortals wearing a velvety wine red strapless dress that is lust itself on your body, black boots (velvet too) that cover you up to the knees and are as hot as hell, and your chocker - a gift from your father - from which a cross hangs, that is a tempting invitation for a sinner like him.

You are his angel with a devilish smile: but tonight, Tom Holland hates that, despite possessing all those qualities, and many more, he can only see the tenderness in your eyes when you look at your grandfather, or when you talk about him, and your smile that becomes as adorable as the face you were born with.

“You are like… staring much. Don't you think?" Harrison chuckles beside him, making Tom look away from you and your way of receiving the guests scattered around the place.

"Shit, Tom, if you turned a little faster you would look like the exorcist." Harry continues with the bland jokes, the same ones that make Sam, Harry and Tuwaine smile.

"Shut up." Tom hisses, taking a sip of his beer as he looks back at his group of friends.

But this story is not about you, but about Tom Holland, your lifelong neighbor, who you never had a conversation with other than to annoy each other, who you used to call idiot when nobody but him heard you, who used to laugh at you while filming Avengers: infinity war, endgame and finally, Spider-man: Far From Home, who used to hold your hand when you were kids because your parents were best friends, the same Tom who now drinks and look at you while you warmly greet each guest who has come to celebrate the birthday of the second man you know loved you.

“How is possible that you and he are the only two famous people at this party? What a waste of fame. Sigh." Danielle, your best friend whispers dramatically, just as you both stop at the bar to pick up more drinks.

"I'd feel sorry for you if you actually sighed." You give her a know-it-all smile, one that invites you to earn a playful slap on the butt from her.

"Please baby, I need to get something out of our friendship, otherwise this isn't working." She makes a gesture between her and you, the same sign that a boyfriend would make before breaking up.

"Tom Holland is here, why don't you go meet him?" You joke as you take the tray and walk with her by your side talking about Tom, although he was not news to you two.

"No thanks. But you can't deny that he looks sooo good. Only HE can look adorable and sexy at the same time. With those good boy eyes and wild muscles under his plain white T-shirt. Like Wow." She makes an expression of surprise, and the sound of an explosion as if her head cannot bear so much information that causes you so much laughter. "Seriously, please take that hottie. I'm sure your grandmother sent it to you as a gift."

You giggle, but your heart races at the thought of his breaking, because even though he and Hanna Johnson were never official, maybe he thought they were so. And after breaking up with her, he was back in London.

You suspected that was the reason behind his break.

"I would, but I don't love you as much as you think." You joke, just the moment you get to the table where your dear grandfather and your grandmother's friends, are, talking about you.

With just your young age, the world was a bright place for you, but here you are now, feeling how your best hits in movies escape from your hands like sand thanks to the endless words that spring from between the wrinkled lips of your grandmother's best friends, in the garden of your own house, adorned with crowded wooden tables and Christmas lights shining on you.

"Life goes by so fast, honey, you won't have that hot body for life." Says Mrs. Lee, who, at 89, still plays to be a 20-year-old from time to time. "You are... 24? 25? And you haven't had a single boyfriend yet."

"What do achievements matter if you don't have the most important thing, cutie?" Mrs. Russell asks, clicking her tongue in approval at her own words. “There are so many beautiful boys out there. My granddaughters want to be like you, but what will I tell them if you've never had a taste of real life? You are very innocent and that can work against you. You can have a little more fun while still being a lady, you know?"

Although in your cheeks bloom a crimson glow, you are aware that her words are offensive.

"You could tell the twins that you can be successful without fucking every chocolate-covered hottie that makes you an unseemly proposition." You murmur between tight lips, knowing well that the women in front of you need more than a whisper to hear certain truths. “I mean, you could tell Amy and Anne to work hard if they want to be actresses. The world is sexist, but, hey, here I am - besides, who says I don't have a boyfriend?"

You raise an eyebrow at your own question, winning several curious glances that seem to pierce you, even your grandfather, who stares at you more astonished than anyone.

"Really?" Mrs. Russell smiles, and her red lips gleam in the night. "And who is he?"

"Uh... well... I..." You giggle in a trance thanks to the bitter taste of the liquor that has your mind under a spell, leaving you completely blank and without a coherent response. "He is…"

"Hello, love." Tom presses his body against yours, suddenly, out of nowhere, wrapping his arm around your waist, so firm that you feel the pressure of his rolex in his left hand. "Hello, ladies. I heard you talking about me and I couldn't help but come and save my girl from this sea of ​​questions about who her boyfriend is. You thought I wasn't real, huh? I know my angel here is a little shy about our relationship, but there is no problem, love, you know you can show off what a good boyfriend I am with whoever you want…"

Tom smiles and enchants the older women who smile back at him, as if they are in love with his youth and his face that has it all: his cloud-fluffy brown hair that is combed to the side and back, the sparkle in his gaze and the way he smiles, making the corners of his eyes crinkle, right down to that funny eyebrow that everyone finds adorable.

From his lovely face and well-defined jaw to his personality and strong English accent: Tom looked like an angel from heaven, perhaps the devil himself because how dangerous his charm could be.

"Oh honey, I didn't know you and Tom were dating." Mrs. Lee says, with an expression between happy and sad. "My granddaughters thought they might have a chance with you, darling."

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Lee." Tom answers, with a hint of happiness and pride in his voice. "I'm already taken and I like it that way."

"Yes!" You say with surprise when Tom gives you a squeeze with the hand that is holding you, shooting you a loving look to encourage you to speak. "I mean... He is."

You smile at the audience, especially at your grandfather and Danielle, who seem to have their suspicions.

"Tom..." Says Roy, your grandfather, who averts his narrowed eyes from your gaze to his, just to become the happiest person in the world as he clasps his hands in a sign of prayer. “I didn't know that you and my darling (Y/N) were together. I'm so happy! I'm sure my beloved Jules is happy too. Couldn't have asked for a better grandson."

"Thank you very much, Roy." Tom says, and it's so natural that he seems sincere. "I wanted to tell you, but we wanted to wait for our relationship to grow stronger."

"Yeah, you know that there are many actresses, blondes and blue eyes actresses who want to eat this hottie." You say and Tom laughs, nervous.

"Well, if you'll excuse us, I'd like to speak to my girlfriend in private for a moment."

Guiding you all the way, you and Tom turn around in the direction of the glass doors of your house that connect to the kitchen, breathing in the warm air from the warm walls the moment you two walk in.

"Good acting, Tom." You smile as you take a grape from the kitchen counter. "Not enough to win an EMMY but-"

"Ha. You are funny. But now I want to talk to you about something…” Tom smiles, too, giving you a devilish look, as if he never rests from it. "You owe me a favor, love."

"Of course not!" You defend yourself, nervous of the sudden change in the conversation. “You came alone like a prince on a horse. I did not call you. I do not owe you anything."

"Are you sure about that?" Tom laughs, as if he really enjoyed the moment. “Because I can go there and tell them the truth. I told you it's pathetic that you've never had a boyfriend. Besides, I wouldn't want to break Roy's heart, he looked so happy to know that his dearest granddaughter is with a good man."

You cross your arms, uneasy with the fact that you've never really fallen in love with someone, while seriously thinking about how happy, and probably relieved, your granddfather is to see that his granddaughter is with someone like Tom, who, despite of everything, yes, was a good boy.

"Okay. What do you want?"

"I want you to pretend to be my girlfriend in front of my parents."

You laugh inadvertently, although deep down you want to know if what was being said about Hannah and him was true.

"Why?"

"Everyone thinks Hannah dumped me and I don't want to see myself as a loser in front of my family and have them keep asking questions about her, it's exhausting."

"Eh, too late for that." You sigh, and Tom looks at you hopefully. "You were a loser long time ago, Tom, sorry."

"I hate you." Tom laughs.

"The feeling is mutual." You look away, and in a second you decide to contemplate why agreeing to be his fake girlfriend would be a bad decision, and why you would do it anyway. “Okay, but you know you can't call me darling. And stop looking at my chest, perv."

Tom laughs, looking up your chest into your eyes.

"It's not my fault you have worn that dress, but it seems that despite everything you didn't have a boy's body all this time. Congrats."

"Idiot."

Tom and his dreamy eyes smile as he opens the glass door for you, stepping aside so you can go out onto the field and do the performance of your life, which you discover would be more difficult than you thought as both of you approach the table on the left side of the place, where your family - made up of your mom, your dad and your older brother - are with his. So, in silence, and to let them be the ones to carry out the conversation of your supposed relationship, Tom remains standing next to you, leaving a space between Harry and him for you.

"Oh, yeah. Last night I got the iPad with the script of the Devil all the time." You say, to continue the conversation that your brother Ethan started, smiling at you. "My character falls in love with the poor and broken Arvin Russell."

Tom chuckles.

“And (Y/N) is a cold and rich bi—… girl who treats me like shit until I save her from her dad, the reverend and the crazy couple of rapists. I think you will play that role very well, love." And again and against your will, Tom brings you closer to him placing his arm around your waist, so close that his proximity makes you red.

So much so that you must place a hand on your exposed chest so that his gaze does not fall on that specific place.

“Bet your pretty ass I will. And then we will flee together into the sunset with a happy ending after killing 4 people."

His family and yours are too stunned to say a word, but just at the moment when you think they will shout hallelujah to the sky or to mention you are Frenemies, Dom makes a fist and a victory gesture with a loud yes!

“I told you they would be together before they were 25! pay me!" He yells happily at your dad, who, next to him, grunts as he searches for his wallet in his pants.

“Couldn't you wait until you turned 25, honey? It was only a few months away."

"What the hell?" Tom says, watching your father leave a $100 bill in Dom's hand.

"It's a silly thing they did when they were drunk." Nikki says, as she joins her hands in prayer just like your grandfather, just as happy as he. "It was about time you decided to be together."

"I didn't know that Tom could love someone other than Tessa." Your brother jokes.

"I didn't know anyone could love Tom more than Tessa." Harry jokes, but in his eyes you can see that part of him means it.

"Is this serious?" Your mom says, raising an eyebrow.

"It is." Tom says, and his voice is as solemn as his expression. "Mom, Dad, everyone, I want to marry this woman... someday."

Along with the expressions of happiness and surprise, theirs and yours, your brother breaks the silent while looking like a hawk at Tom.

"Her favorite color?"

"Blue." He answers, without missing a second.

"Favorite book?"

"Jane Austin's Pride & Prejudice."

"Coffee, hot or cold?"

"It depends on the season."

"Seafood?"

"Banned forever."

"Very well, you have my blessing to marry my sister." Your brother nods, like a wise old man, while you, foolishly, think of two things, how quickly he responded, and how well he knew you.

"Just that?" You question, partly offended. "Why better not give him 2 cows for my honor?"

"That's a good idea." Tom responds. "We already have a chicken so..."

You snort just like the idea of Tom buying a chicken just because there were no eggs in the store is spinning in your head, but at that very moment, your words die on your lips as Rose, your aunt and your grandfather's eldest daughter, has taken the command of the party to indicate that the most important thing of the night has arrived: the dance that your grandfather and grandmother used to have, when she was still alive.

Like a fairy tale, every couple in love gathers in the center of the garden while the song “Put your head on my shoulder” by Paul Anka begins to float in the London air that is suddenly flooded with love, to such an extent point that threatens to drown you in it.

"Would you like...?" Tom is nervous, and lets the question hang in the air.

Your breathing becomes agitated, it becomes irregular as your parents and his join the other couples, wild as your heart that beats with the fierceness of a caged animal seeking freedom.

You want to say no, but the crystallized look and happiness that you achieve in your grandfather's eyes are the impulse you need to avoid breaking his heart with the truth.

"Okay."

Tom takes your hand gently and guides you to the makeshift dance floor, placing his hands on your waist to imitate the elders.

Inside and out, (Y/N) (Y/L/N) was still as beautiful as the first one he saw you when you were children; but of course, now as adults, everything was different: you were stronger, more mature, more self-confident, wilder and indomitable. But Tom didn't judge your insecurity, he never did, because you had trouble trusting in a future love that could be so real that it seemed a fairy tale - like the ones your father had read to you before bed - as deep as Roy's pain at losing his beloved Jules.

And it is then that Tom realized everything.

That's why you didn't want to be called darling, just because your grandfather used to call his great love that way. Why you never had a boyfriend. Of why you had never wasted your love giving it to someone you knew you would never have a future with, just the way he did with Hannah. Of why you have never been able to give your sincere love to someone else.

Because we're so hopeful at the beginning of things, it seems that there is only one world to gain, nothing to lose, and suddenly, we lose someone whom God knew we deeply love, leaving us with nothing but a void where there must be a beating heart.

And that's when the applause dies down, the silence overwhelms you two, time runs out and life forces you to look into each other's eyes to wonder, without words, why you did the things you did and the things you didn't.

"I'm in love with you."

"Don't."

You say the words at the same time, although they are not the words you expect to hear from the other.

And then you smile sadly, slightly because you no longer have the strength, because your body seems numb from the little alcohol you have drunk and because it seems that the world is leaning to one side with his love confession, but you also smile because Tom still has that adorable face, and a funny eyebrow that you were dying to fix. Just for fun. Just to touch him.

"You're not in love with me, you're just sad about Hannah." You whisper, desperately waiting for the song you have loved for so long to come to an end so you can flee from his arms.

"No, you don't understand, now I can see that it's you, it's always been you." Tom hates himself because he can't put his feelings and his memories into words, but his hands secure you in your place so that you don't leave, not before he can tell you a little of what he was hiding in his mind. “Since we were children I held your hand: in kindergarten, on the way home, to the park around the corner. I don't know why it is now that I can see you, always there in every step of my life, being my best friend even when we said words to annoy each other. I don't know much about love, but I know that it should make you feel good, give you peace, and that's what I feel with you. I feel at home with you, no matter where we are. And we have been in several countries away from home, but you feel like my home. And I am in love with you, and I only ask that you give me the opportunity to love the way you deserve to be loved."

You have a world of words, sharp as a knife, that could kill his confession, but against all, and because this is the first time you feel in love, you lift your hand from his shoulder, a little shaky, to brush your thumb against his brow, soft, delicate and loving, as a lover should be when loving someone for the first time.

"I still hate you."

Tom smiles and you both share a look of hope, staying in the foreground, just to be a participant in the main scene of this beautiful love story that would only be the beginning of a long night in the bright sky of your lives, the one that is like a painting made of watercolors, colors that spill over each other just to create a perfect combination, just like you two together in the eyes of any art lover.

"Not me, no. I love you."

And after that, Tom leans down a bit, feeling the softness of your lips in a real kiss, the first of many to come.

@averyfosterthoughts​ @galaxies-of-the-heart​ @heartofholland​

[joonapeach]

you, me & a little bit of the future [mlb]

summary: Marinette expects some disaster on her first outing alone with Adrien. She just doesn’t expect that disaster to be her future self passing off a baby for her to take care of with Adrien.

alternatively… two idiots obliviously in love cooing over their daughter while acting like they have no idea whose kid this is.

author’s note: i spent my birthday writing mlb fanfiction because that is my biggest source of serotonin. also, if you follow me for bts and have no idea wtf mlb is - first of all, sorry. second of all - give me your brain bc i really wish i could rewatch this dumb show for the first time.

also reposted on ao3

[11.2k words of a fluff/humor and time travel x accidental baby acquisition trope]

If Marinette was still breathing by the end of today… she decided that she would give her life to worshipping Alya.

The girl was a magician, maybe even an angel. There was no possible reason for Marinette to be standing here in an empty museum, waiting for Adrien to fetch a bottle of water for her and yet… here she was?

“Alya, first of all, how did you make this happen?” Marinette squeaked on the phone, looking around to make sure she was out of Adrien’s earshot. “And second of all - I don’t know if I can do this!”

Alya’s familiar laugh came through the call. “Relax, girl! Adrien wanted Nino to go inspect his new wax statue with him but of course, Nino just needed a nudge from your greatest friend in the world to give up his invitation to you.”

Scratch worshipping just Alya. If Marinette hadn’t combusted by the end of this museum outing, she would worship both Nino and Alya together.

“I love you.”

“Try to tell that to Adrien today.”

“I will,” Marinette nodded with so much excitement that it was a wonder her head didn’t spin off. “I promise. I’ll make the most of the opportunity you’ve given to me. You’re the best, Alya!”

Alya only laughed, clearly amused by her friend’s joy. “Well, good luck and tell me how it goes!” she said before cutting the call.

Marinette sighed dreamily. Alone in a museum of art with Adrien, the greatest work of art she’d ever seen… it all felt like a dream.

She paused, quickly pinching herself. The pain registered a second later and she laughed giddily. This was no dream. It really was happening.

From the corner of her eye, she spotted Adrien walking towards her. A bottle of water was clutched in one hand as he waved with another. Was it possible to melt from someone’s smile? Marinette hadn’t thought it likely till she traced the curve of Adrien’s lips with her eyes just now.

“Here you go, Marinette,” he said cheerfully. He reached for her hand, putting the bottle on her palm. It was a relief that the water felt like ice to her skin because Adrien’s bare second of a touch made her scared of combusting.

“Th-thanks!”

“No problem! Thanks for coming today. I know it’s such a short notice since Nino cancelled in the morning, but I really wanted to see the wax statue with a friend,” he said softly. “I’m glad it’s you.”

Glad it’s you? How could anyone say such things to a person with that heartstopping grin and then be so oblivious to the world falling in love with them?

Marinette did her best to yelp out a semblance of a response, giving a toothy smile in the silences of the words she couldn’t find. It seemed to satisfy Adrien enough who only laughed and said, “come on!” as he dragged her through the empty museum.

Adrien’s hand. Touching mine. 

It really would be a miracle if she was still breathing by the end of today.

/

Things were going perfectly. Well, as perfectly as things could ever go in Marinette’s life.

In a total of ten minutes, their arms had brushed 13 times and he’d laughed 5 times at something she’d said. He’d given her his show-stopping, sincere smile 3 times and she’d come near to death from them 2.5 times - the 0.5 she subtracted was when she wasn’t looking and only caught sight of his grin at the very last second.

Despite the empty silence of the museum, Marinette was surprised at just how two people alone could fill the room. Of course, it helped that one of the two people was the equivalent to the worth of a country itself but still… something about the familiarity in Adrien surprised her. He’d left her speechless and lovesick but there was also a feeling in comfort in being with him.

There was only ever one other person she felt like that around.

“Hey Marinette, I’m just gonna go to the bathroom real quick!” Adrien said, with another friendly smile she chose not to look at it too closely. When she nodded, he ran off and she stood in the empty room.

Finally, her heart could take a break from racing.

She exhaled, looking around until a sudden flash of light almost blinded her. She jumped back, ready to say the words spots on at the sight of danger till she frowned at what she heard.

“Do you ever not make this more difficult than it needs to be, kitty?!”

Marinette stilled. She recognized that voice. Yet, it was still not as familiar as the one she heard next.

“You know I can’t paws an opportunity to be entangled with you, my lady.”

The other voice scoffed. “That was terrible, even for you. Now, get off me.”

There was a certain threshold of weirdness Marinette had learned to tolerate in her time as Ladybug. Evil butterflies around the city, mini talking God-pets, monsters popping up during her Physics class… that was all fine.

Hearing her own voice repeated back to her was not. This was treading on a new kind of weird.

Marinette hesitantly stepped forward, following the voices. Behind a big column, she could hear the two bickering people. She checked on Tikki in her purse, who was fast asleep. She couldn’t wake her up for a threat she still hadn’t confirmed.

“Now… she’s bound to be here somewhere,” the voice like hers said. “Chat, can you go bring Emma through another portal?”

“That’s an awful lot of faith you have in a fifteen year old girl to say yes without even asking.”

Marinette heard the amusement in her doppelganger’s voice. “I think I’d know my fifteen year old self better than you.”

Another flash of light came and suddenly, the conversation stopped. Marinette’s heart was back to racing, this time from apprehension as she looked behind the column. 

She was certain. This was not in the threshold of weirdness she could learn to tolerate.

An older, fitter Ladybug was staring her in the face. Her raven hair was bunched in longer buns around her neck and she towered over Marinette in height. Everything about her exuded confidence and the presence of… a real superhero.

The only telltale sign Marinette could find of her being a person was the awkward, gaping smile she gave.

“Um… hi,” Ladybug said, giving a stiff wave.

Marinette blinked. Then she screamed.

Ladybug raced forward, clamping her hand over Marinette’s mouth. “Oh my God, was I always so easily frightened?” she mumbled to herself in distress. “Marinette, it’s me. I mean- it’s you. It’s you-me. Hi.”

Hesitantly, the hand over Marinette’s mouth slipped away. “What do you mean you-me?” she narrowed her eyes, an urgent distrust in her voice. “Who are you?”

Ladybug’s voice softened. “I’m you. From the future, ten years from now. I’m twenty six year old Marinette,” she grinned, fluffing her two buns. “Pretty cute, right?”

Marinette’s guard didn’t lower. She backed away slowly. “I don’t believe it. You must be an akumatized person… or a trick from Hawkmoth! What do you want with me?”

Ladybug stretched her limbs. “I can’t even blame you for being on edge. I know how tense things were when I was your age,” she mumbled.

“Hello? Who are you?” Marinette repeated. She put her hands on her hips, trying to make herself look more intimidating. “If you’re really me then you should-”

“How’s the Adrien-in-white poster project going?” Ladybug sighed, asking with a resigned shrug. “Right about now, the new spring shoots must’ve come out, right? That shot of him in the white polo by the trees is the prettiest. The green background makes his eyes pop and makes him look like an angel des-”

“Descended from heaven,” Marinette blinked, breathlessly. “Oh my God.”

“Still don’t believe me? Around last month, you broke your phone and asked for three months’ allowance to get it repaired instead of just buying a new one because you told everyone you had some design files that you forgot to back-up, when it was really just saved photos of Adrien from-”

“Okay, okay, I believe you!” Marinette cut her off, red creeping up her neck and turning her face into a bright tomato. 

Despite her embarrassment, Ladybug only smiled wistfully. She ruffled Marinette’s hair. “Sorry to crash your date, little me,” she said with a grin. “But I have a huge favor to ask.”

“A favor?”

Ladybug nodded. “Yup. Straight from the future. Your twenty six year old self kinda depends on you right now.”

Marinette squared her shoulders. “What is it?” she asked determinedly. “Is Hawkmoth still causing trouble? What do I need to do?”

Ladybug laughed, suddenly looking sheepish. “Um… it’s a little less complicated than that,” she admitted. “You see… you- I mean, me… we kind of are in the midst of a little fight against a villain in the future. It’s crazy. We’ve been fighting for two days and he still won’t let go.”

“Do you need my help?” Marinette asked with confidence. A fight in the future… she could do that. Paris was her priority in any case.

Ladybug giggled. “Well, yes. But not in fighting. You see, in between all the battles, I keep having to go home and detransform because of a little thing. A very cute, little thing. Everyone is so caught up in the chaos of the city that I’m having trouble being Ladybug and Marinette at the same time. That’s where I thought little me could come in handy?”

Marinette raised her eyebrows.

“Little Mari,” Ladybug said with an adoring smile. “How would you feel about babysitting?”

Marinette’s jaw dropped. Her head turned left and right, scanning the empty museum before looking back at Ladybug. “Do I have to babysit Manon again on the only day I get to be with Adrien?”

Ladybug laughed. “Well, it’s not Manon this time. This kid’s a little younger. She’s almost one and she’s an angel. I think you’ll quite like her,” she grinned mischievously. “You see, it’s my daughter.”

Her daughter?

No words came to her mind except the phrase repeating. Her daughter.

Marinette was staring at a twenty six year old version of her, far more confident and chic than her and now, this woman had a daughter. Marinette would have a daughter in ten years. 

A wide smile broke out on her face. At sixteen, she only ever knew the kind of love she could see around her, for her parents, her friends, Adrien, for her partner… but now, one day, there’d be more to that. Suddenly, she couldn’t stop smiling.

“My… daughter?”

“Yup. Congrats future-mom. We’re quite a good mother if I do say so myself,” Ladybug smirked. “Though I’m pretty sure our husband is half the reason why we’re so good.”

Now, a blush spread across Marinette’s cheeks. A husband. Marinette couldn’t even imagine having a boyfriend, not with how tongue-tied she got around every boy she liked but somewhere in the future was a man she loved who loved her back. A man who was raising a child with her.

At her shell-shocked expression, Ladybug laughed affectionately. “I didn’t even tell you a thing about our daughter or husband but you look like you’re already on cloud nine. You really aren’t ready for the future yet. Good thing you have ten years to prepare.”

“Who… who is my husband?”

Now, a twinkle of amusement flashed in Ladybug’s eyes. “No cheating. All I’ll tell you is… he’s a lovely man. You love him very much. A bit embarrassingly much.” There was a hidden joke somewhere in Ladybug’s words but Marinette didn’t laugh, still too shaken by the prospect of being married with kids of her own.

“What’s… can I ask my daughter’s name?”

“I’m surprised you need to ask.”

Marinette couldn’t fight a smile. “Emma,” she laughed. “Well, I’m happy our future husband wasn’t against our suggestion.”

“Oh, he can’t refuse a single thing we say. You’ll see,” Ladybug smiled. “Well, hopefully at some point. If we manage to end the fight and keep Emma from crying all in a day’s work… so can I trust myself to take care of her?”

Marinette nodded excitedly. “Of course.”

“Thank you little Mari,” Ladybug sighed in relief. “You won’t believe how badly I needed this help.”

Was it possible to be starstruck by your own future self? Marinette felt she was hanging off every word Ladybug was saying, drawn in by the assurance and ease she spoke with. She wondered if this was how the rest of the world felt now when she spoke as Ladybug.

“Anything for you!” Marinette blinked with glittering eyes. “You must… you must be doing so well. Ten years and you’re… wow. That’s me.”

Ladybug giggled. “You’re doing well too, you know. For one, I’m glad you haven’t combusted on your date with Adrien yet.”

Marinette flushed, before blinking in shock. Adrien. “Wait! I have to tell Adrien I’ll have to cancel! So I can take Emma home while you-”

“Oh, I don’t think you need to do that. You can keep her around with him,” an entertained look passed in Ladybug’s eyes. “I think it’ll be good practice.”

“Practice for what?”

Ladybug cocked an innocent brow, suddenly distracted by her surroundings. Marinette was about to repeat the question till the familiar flash of light from earlier came again. Chat Noir came tumbling out of the portal, a baby strapped to his chest.

Marinette blinked. If she was looking at twenty six year old Ladybug then… this was twenty six year old Chat Noir.

She swallowed. The years had been- would be kind to her kitty… if she could still even call him that in the future. 

She was far too used to the flirty school boy under the name of Chat Noir but this was someone else entirely. For the first time in her life, Marinette found herself at a loss for words in his presence.

Chat’s eyes flickered from Ladybug, a glance filled with lasting adoration, to Marinette. A sudden amusement crossed his expression that Marinette had trouble deciphering. Somewhere between glee and satisfaction.

He inched closer, offering a hand to shake. “Well hello there,” he grinned before looking at Ladybug and saying, “you know, I almost forgot how adorable you were.”

Marinette squeaked. “You know who I am?”

“In the future, he does,” Ladybug reassured, poking Chat’s nose in an all-too-familiar way. “Don’t fret. He’s just playing.”

Chat looked almost offended by the statement. “I am not. I mean it sincerely. You were the cutest thing at sixteen.”

Ladybug cocked a teasing brow. “Is that really a thing to say about just a friend-”

Chat pressed a finger to Ladybug’s lips, throwing a smirk Marinette’s way. “You can’t be handing out spoilers like that for your mini-self. Look how innocent she is. We can’t deprive mini Chat Noir of the satisfaction when it all comes out in the open.”

Ladybug scoffed. “This is why I didn’t want you to accompany me. You’re just getting a kick out of seeing me like this, aren’t you?”

“Can you blame me? It’s hard to keep a straight face when I now know what’s really going on in the sixteen year old pretty princess’ brain,” he said with a wink.

Marinette’s heart faltered at the display of adoration and comfort between the two future selves of her and her partner. She and Chat were always close but this… this was new. The doting expression in Chat’s eyes when he looked at Ladybug wasn’t new but the reciprocated devotion in her own future self’s eyes was.

He was still in love with her, ten years later - that was easy to tell. But she wondered how to interpret the feeling that made her feel like suddenly, she was too.

Ladybug reached for Chat’s chest, unwrapping a small sleeping baby from the blankets. Ladybug pressed a loving kiss on the baby’s forehead before looking at Marinette. The two shared a silent smile.

Gently, the baby was placed in Marinette’s arms. Her heart paced at the weight of a life cradling against her chest. 

A sudden anxiousness pooled her thoughts. “Can I… do you really think it’s the best idea to give your kid to me?”

Chat was the one to answer. “It’s your kid too, Marinette.”

Her name, her real name, off his lips made her shiver. There was a future in which he called her by that. It sounded so pleasant to her ears that she almost wished that that future could be now.

“But… you know what I mean! Not sixteen year old, clumsy me! It’s your kid. The me who’s put together and… you know, can actually handle walking with a child and not tripping over air and-”

Chat’s laugh broke her rant. “The fact that you think you’re any less clumsy ten years in the future is adorable. I don’t think you’ll ever recover from that.”

“Chat! I’m right here!” Ladybug poked the tall, towering kitten away before turning to Marinette. “You’ll be fine. I promise. You can trust your future self’s judgment, can’t you?”

Marinette swallowed, glancing down at the girl in her arms. For the first time, she looked carefully at the daughter she would one day hold for the rest of her life. She was a beautiful sight. Her cherub cheeks stuck out in her sleep and strands of dark, midnight hair just like Marinette’s covered her face. She wondered whether her eyes were blue too, just like hers.

Marinette smiled. “Okay. I’ll do my best.”

Ladybug grinned, giving a squeeze to Marinette’s shoulder. “I owe you. Well, technically I don’t because future-you has a lot of good in store that current-you would never believe. But thanks,” she laughed. With ease, her hand slipped into Chat Noir’s as she walked away with a wave.

Marinette’s eyes zeroed in on the sight. At the last second, Chat Noir glanced back at her and a strange feeling leapt through her heart. He smiled. “Don’t worry Marinette. You’re a natural mother.”

The two disappeared in another flash too quick for Marinette to notice. She blinked, thinking of the words Chat had left her with and the intertwined hands… what ever was in store for her future with Chat? Surely… surely, what she was suspecting couldn’t be-

In her arms, the baby moved. Marinette stilled, glancing at her daughter as she woke from her nap. Her arms stretched and she showed a warm smile as soon as she looked up at Marinette. Emma.

“Maman,” Emma said happily. Marinette had never thought she’d find a word she loved the sound of more than Adrien. Now she had.

When she stared at her daughter, she memorized every small feature. This time, she got to see her eyes, wide and awake. While Emma had Marinette’s dark hair, her eyes were a deep shade of green.

/

Adrien had never considered himself a narcissist. But looking at the broad, tall body of his future self was making him reconsider his stance.

“Plagg. Are you seeing this? I’m so cool,” Adrien grinned excitedly, staring at the Chat Noir in front of him. “This is the best day ever.”

Chat grumbled, hiding his face with a few fingers. Even his fingers were big enough to cover his face. Adrien blinked at what ten years was going to do to him. Despite his title of a model, he hated to indulge in complimenting himself but at this second… he could only say that there was no way Ladybug could reject his twenty six year old self. Adrien grinned with the thought. He could wait ten years to woo his lady if this was the payoff.

“Can you listen, kid?” Chat sighed. “I don’t have much time to give you a pep talk before Ladybug starts panicking at why I’m not back yet,” he mumbled to himself.

Adrien could only laugh, still on a high. “You’re me! From the future!”

Plagg’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of diet plan is future-you on?”

“I don’t know, but isn’t it amazing?!” Adrien said with a grin. “Why are you here? Wait… you’re here to give me a message, aren’t you?”

Chat took a few seconds to stare his younger self in the face. Adrien wondered why it looked like he was on the verge of exasperation. “I wish I could give you ten messages. But even then, I don’t know if it’ll help your hopeless case,” Chat said with a snicker.

Adrien’s mouth dropped. “Plagg… is my future-self bullying me right now?”

Plagg shrugged. “I have no objections.”

“Listen,” a hand clamped down Adrien’s shoulder. Adrien squeaked an inhumane sound at the grip of his future self’s hand. “You know that girl you have a crush on?”

“Ladybug,” Adrien nodded with a lovesick smile.

Chat’s lips tightened into a thin line, unamused. “This is gonna be harder than I thought,” he sighed. “Was I really this oblivious?” he mumbled to Plagg, completely ignoring Adrien’s distraught confusion.

Plagg laughed. “Oh, this isn’t being oblivious. This is just denying the truth. You love acting like you have no idea. I hope you’re a bit better in the future, for my mental health’s sake.”

“Plagg, shouldn’t you be siding with the version of me that actually belongs in your time?!” Adrien whined. “What’s this about?”

Plagg and Chat shared a look. Chat fought a small smile before trying again. “Alright buddy. See, in a few minutes, I’m gonna head back to the future - we’re in the middle of an epic fight, you’d love it - and I’ve left my daughter to babysat by you. It won’t be too long… maybe three hours. Actually, make it four. I should take my wife out on a date after and thank her for putting up with me despite how stupid I was at sixteen. Can you manage four hours?”

Adrien gulped. In just one sentence alone, words like ‘wife’, ‘daughter’ and ‘future’ had left his mind in shock. He wasn’t sure which part to start with, when so much information had been thrown his way in a moment’s breath.

“I’m married?!”

Chat grinned proudly. “Happily.”

Adrien’s eyes brightened. “Am I married to Ladybug?”

Chat’s smile grew with delight. “Even better,” he sighed dreamily. “You’re married to the girl you have a crush on.”

“That’s Ladybug!” Adrien spluttered excitedly.

Chat sighed, part in amusement and part in resignation. “Even if I spelled it out for you, there really is no hope,” he mumbled. “But anyway. Just make sure Emma stays safe, okay? We’ll be back soon so there shouldn’t be any trouble. Not with Marinette taking care of her anyway.”

Adrien’s eyes widened. “Marinette? You’re giving her to Marinette?” he coughed out the question. “But she’s my daughter!”

Chat bit the inside of his cheek to fight a smile. “Well, that’s all the message I wanna give. Marinette’s going to be outside with a beautiful little girl and you just have to babysit for a short while. Whatever Marinette says, listen to her, okay? She knows best.”

Chat turned but Adrien quickly grabbed at the man’s hand. Was that rock he was gripping or really a human’s body under a suit?

“What?”

“Well… that can’t be all. There’s so much I have to know!” Adrien blinked innocently. “Like… does Ladybug end up being my first girlfriend? How long do I wait to propose to her, because honestly, I think I’d propose as soon as I’m eighteen, and am I a good dad? Do I quit modelling? And what the hell do I eat to become as buff as you?”

Chat hid the growing smile on his face. He gave a finger salute to Plagg before turning to open a portal. With one leg through the flashing light, Adrien yelled out in haste, “aren’t you gonna give your younger self any advice?!”

Chat laughed, looking back for only one last second. “How about you just try to figure out who’s the girl you have a crush on first, buddy?”

/

Maybe Marinette was a natural mother. It would explain why she was already ready to give her life for a girl she’d only known for minutes now.

At sixteen, Marinette was always sure she wanted kids but that dream always used to be a small piece of her bigger dream with Adrien. Her dream of kids and a hamster and a house in the South of France for them to retire together. Now with a glimpse into the future, her own plans didn’t look like they needed to be so small anymore.

Her future self hadn’t mentioned Adrien at all, apart from just casual teasing. What did that mean?

“What do you think, Emma?” Marinette cooed at the girl in her arms. “She didn’t seem to care much about Adrien but she was looking at Chat like he was her whole world… does that mean my future self isn’t in love with Adrien anymore?”

“Maman,” Emma said in response with a smile. Marinette’s heart softened.

She chewed on her lip in thought. She was holding a child she would eventually have with a man she’d call her husband… and unlike her sixteen year old self’s aspirations, her twenty six year old self hadn’t mentioned anything of Adrien being that man.

Was Marinette missing something? Was Adrien really not the boy for her?

But… her heart belonged to him, she was sure of it. There was no wedding, no kids, no house she could picture that didn’t have him in some way.

Marinette remembered how Ladybug’s touch lingered on Chat’s body, almost too fondly and affectionately to be considered the same as the relationship present-day Ladybug and Chat had. Like an ice-cold realization being dumped over her, Marinette froze.

“Oh my God Emma,” she said breathlessly. “I end up with Chat Noir.”

Emma giggled, mumbling something that Marinette chose to interpret as affirmation. Unable to stay stoic from Emma’s adorable smile, Marinette burst out in laughter.

“Oh my God,” she repeated. “That sneaky kitty… he must’ve done something. Did you see how future Maman was looking at him, Emma? She was saying his teasing was annoying but then she was touching him every chance she got… am I going to be like that? Me and… my Chat Noir? Is he going to be my…”

Marinette couldn’t bring herself to say the word. Fate truly had a twisted turn if she eventually gave into Chat’s wooing and was just as lovesick for him as he was for her. The thought made her giggle but her heart fluttered.

“He’s gonna have a field day with this one, little Emma. If he finds out I met our married versions, he might die of excitement before we get there,” Marinette laughed, brushing Emma’s hair from her face. “I wonder what it is about Chat that makes me finally fall in love.”

Marinette cradled the baby girl close to her, letting herself indulge in the guilty thoughts of love she would usually shut off for her loyalty to Adrien. “You know what the crazy part is, Emma? Little Maman doesn’t even have a problem with any of this. It would’ve been nice if it was Adrien but… I think I get it now. Adrien’s a crush but to really be with someone, I would want it to be my other half.”

Marinette sighed. Were her feelings so fickle? Suddenly, her heart was warm with the thought of a friend she never once considered before. It felt less like two years of feelings for Adrien had dissipated but two years of feelings for Chat Noir had come to the surface after seeing her daughter.

“What do you think, Emma? Is Chat a good papa?” Marinette giggled, joking with her daughter who only nuzzled into Marinette’s chest. She held her tighter, only turning around when she heard her name called.

“Marinette!”

The smile on Adrien’s face was so blinding that Marinette almost had to step back. The boy was definitely not this happy when he’d ran off to the bathroom.

Their eyes met and Marinette flushed from the sheer joy in his smile. He looked down, his gaze landing upon Emma.

“Oh! Adrien- um- this is… well, it’s a bit tough to explain. You see, I kind of just got asked by my… my aunt! My aunt came and dropped off my daughter- her daughter. My niece! She’s a bit busy so I just have to keep an eye out for her for a few hours and… you don’t mind, do you?”

Marinette watched Adrien’s eyes carefully for a flicker of annoyance at the sudden responsibility. She could only find warmth.

Surely, a boy couldn’t be this happy from having to babysit someone else’s kid?

He inched closer, giving a soft smile to Emma. For a second, Marinette forgot how to breathe. The sight of her first love and her first daughter meeting made her forget words.

“What’s her name?”

“Emma,” Marinette answered softly. Emma reached out for Adrien almost instantly, ready to be carried by him even at first glance. The familiarity she held for Adrien almost worried her when she remembered that there was a strong chance that Adrien and her remained friends in the future… Emma was likely recognizing her Uncle Adrien from another time.

“Can I hold her?” he asked hesitantly and Marinette nodded with a smile.

Adrien cradled the girl to his chest with a gentleness Marinette didn’t expect. It was hard enough seeing Adrien so out of reach every single day of her life but seeing him hold her daughter almost like… like she was his…

Marinette gulped painfully.

The future was beautiful and kind, but there wouldn’t be this. There wouldn’t be a beautiful, young man who got to be Marinette’s first love yet also hold the title of her daughter’s father. Still, she smiled. She had ten years to come to terms with it.

“Hello Emma,” Adrien laughed, a soft finger touching her cheeks. “You probably don’t know me yet but… I’m going to do everything I can to take care of you for as long as I can,” he grinned, almost too fatherly for Marinette’s comfort.

“Papa,” Emma said with a giggle.

Marinette’s heart squeezed. She didn’t blame little Emma for her confusion - Adrien did share the same hair and eyes as Chat that it might’ve thrown off the little girl. But she didn’t correct her daughter. She had a lifetime of parenting to do with her partner, so she’d let herself have today to pretend that it could’ve been her first love.

As she walked away in the museum, Adrien trailed behind with Emma in his arms. He said something to the little girl that Marinette didn’t quite catch fully. It sounded an awful lot like, “yes, Emma. It’s your papa,” but Marinette laughed. Her wishful thinking deluded her too much for her own good sometimes.

/

At sixteen, Adrien knew he was nowhere ready to be a father. He could hardly understand what it meant to be a good son, to be enough to earn the affections of his own father, to be able to start thinking about how to be a good father.

And yet… was it supposed to be this easy?

Adrien was scared his daughter would repulse at the first sight of him but she came willingly into his arms. She rested with ease, her eyes widened at everything around her - eyes he noticed looked an awful lot like his mother’s -  and she laughed at the lame jokes he whispered in her ear, despite not understanding a word.

The apprehension Adrien felt in his chest was gone. This was slowly becoming the best day he’d had in a while.

Just as Emma kept calling him Papa, she called out for Marinette as Maman. At first, Marinette’s face paled when she saw Adrien hear it.

“Oh… uh, my niece, she… well, I look a lot like my aunt, haha! So, you know… she gets us mixed up. That’s probably why she calls you Papa too. You look an awful lot like her father. He’s got the… the same blond hair. And eyes. Even the smile at times,” Marinette blinked, her words trailing off.

Adrien only smiled. His eyes flickered between his daughter and Marinette. Her hair was exactly like Ladybug’s, smooth and dark like the night but it was also just like Marinette’s. He could tell what spurred his daughter’s confusion.

Yet, he still wondered… Why was Marinette the one who his future self had entrusted Emma to? Was it a decision that future Ladybug - his wife! - and his future self made together? Adrien chewed on his lip, unable to answer the question.

What had Chat Noir said before bolting for the future? Marinette knows best?

Adrien glanced at Marinette, the softness in her eyes when she looked at Emma and thought Adrien wasn’t looking. With the gentleness with which she cared for Emma in just a few moments, Adrien couldn’t deny that he had no problem trusting his daughter to her either. Marinette was always kind and there wasn’t a person in the world he thought higher of. 

Except for Ladybug. But it really couldn’t get better than that.

“So what should we do now?” Adrien asked. “We checked out my wax statue so that’s done.”

“Well… I guess I should take Emma home. My aunt will be back after a few hours and I’m sure you have things to do so-”

When Marinette came to take Emma from Adrien’s arms, he backed away protectively. She blinked, frowning at his behavior.

“Adrien?”

“Uh… Sorry. I’m a little attached to her,” he forced a laugh. Glancing back at his daughter, he smiled. Chat Noir had said that she’d be his for four hours so why would Adrien have to give her up now?

His lips tightened. As trustworthy as Marinette was, was it fair to give babysitting privileges to her rather than Emma’s father? Did future Ladybug trust an old friend more than she trusted her own young husband?

At that second, Emma burst into sudden tears. Adrien blinked, taken aback by the shrieking sound but before he could do anything, Marinette swooped in and took Emma in her arms. She wrapped her arms around the girl softly, moving her as gently as the wind and whispering quiet words in her ears.

How was Marinette so… natural at this?

He could see just why Marinette was the right choice to babysit, with her soft heart and tender touch and yet… the thought still stung. Ladybug was his wife in the future but she thought more of a friend than she did of him, despite all his love?

How was the future Chat Noir so content with this? Adrien frowned, revisiting every word Chat had said in their short conversation to scrutinize it. His future self hadn’t had any problem with Marinette either - he’d told Adrien to willingly let Marinette handle it all. 

When he spoke of his wife, he wore a smile that made Adrien think the future was perfect but surely, this was not the perfect he settled for. His future self had said he was happily married but in what world did a father have less right to his child than a friend of his wife’s?

A bitter taste crawled up Adrien’s mouth. He looked at his daughter to find some peace but when he did, all he could see was Marinette grinning and spinning the girl around. Emma now smiled, looking at Marinette with so much love in her eyes that Adrien wasn’t sure what to think next.

His wife… Chat had never said it was Ladybug. Perhaps Ladybug had dropped off his daughter in the past but Chat had never said it was his daughter with Ladybug. All he’d said was that he was happily married, to a girl even better than Ladybug, and to follow Marinette.

Adrien swallowed. Marinette brushed Emma against her cheek and laughed with a sound worth the brightness of a thousand suns. There was no girl on Earth who held that much love in her heart for a stranger’s baby. Not even Marinette, for all her goodness, could conjure up so much affection for a child she didn’t know.

A stirring feeling shook Adrien’s heart. Pretty Marinette, kind Marinette, Marinette with the shyness of a school-girl but the heart of an everyday superhero, Marinette with the passion of a youthful girl but the love of a woman who’d lived a long life… Marinette, the girl he’d buried his feelings for, for the fear he’d never be good enough to earn her affections back.

That Marinette… She was his future wife.

The smile that spread on Adrien’s face made him look like a fool, but he knew now that he was the same lovesick fool as the future Chat. This right here, in the comfort of the space between Marinette and him, and the daughter they’d one day have, was his family. He would find a family in this girl.

He had already found a family in her. Future Chat knew well enough, telling him to open his eyes and figure out the girl he had a crush on. Of course, Ladybug was his first love, built on admiration and respect, but Marinette was his future. She was the girl he’d become worthy of and the girl who’d give him a home after all his searching.

He blinked back the stinging feeling of tears. When he walked closer to Marinette and Emma, he smiled and rested his hand on Marinette’s shoulder.

“Hey Marinette,” he whispered gently, so not to distract her from their daughter. “Is it okay if I babysit Emma with you today?”

“Hm?” Marinette raised her eyebrows. Adrien fought the urge to brush down her forehead to smooth the crease. She smiled with a welcoming glance. “Of course you can Adrien.”

He grinned. “I guess we can go get ice cream. What do you think about that, little Emma?”

The girl only clapped, excited to see her two mini-parents together again. When she called Marinette Maman again, Adrien couldn’t hide his smile. 

/

Whatever it was Adrien was doing to both her heart, and Emma’s, Marinette wished he would stop.

It was hard enough in the simple moments of Adrien carrying Emma and Emma calling him Papa, but now Adrien was doing even more to seemingly fit in the gaps of her life that belonged to Chat Noir.

For one, his smiles were becoming far too frequent and brightening for her. She started the day off at the museum by counting every time he laughed and grinned at her but now, it was an endless supply that she lost track of. 

Not to mention… the hand holding.

Was Marinette truly counting the times their hands had brushed this morning? Because now, Adrien left no steps unturned to hold her hand in the streets of Paris. The three of them went around the city, stopping at little monuments and pretty spring sceneries, all together. It was too much like a family for Marinette to handle.

This was her future family and Adrien was creeping in. He was taking selfies of the three of them at every turn, spending money at random stalls for jewelry and snacks for Emma and he was even… blushing around Marinette?

“Here,” Adrien coughed, looking up at the distracting view of an empty sky. His hand was holding out a small box. “It’s for you.”

Marinette frowned, taking the box. Adrien was no stranger to giving gifts but Marinette was a stranger to the blushing, nervous delivery with which he handed her this gift. Inside was a small necklace with a flower charm on it.

“I just got it from the stall so it’s nothing spectacular, I know,” he laughed awkwardly. “But just to remember today. And I promise, I’ll get you a lot more great things in the future.”

“Oh Adrien, it’s lovely. You didn’t have to get me anything at all,” she blinked. For the sake of her racing heart, she chose to ignore the promise he attached at the end.

Adrien only gave a smile. When the three of them sat down at the bench near Andre’s ice cream stall, Marinette could only cry for relief from the relaxation.

“Wow. Carrying a baby across the city is more of a workout than I thought it’d be,” Marinette sighed. “Kids are a lot of work.”

Adrien nodded, taking Emma from Marinette’s arms. “Well, you don’t need to worry Marinette,” he smiled. “I think you’re a natural mother.”

Marinette’s breath hitched in her throat. The weight of Adrien’s words hung in the air and if she inhaled, she knew she would feel the effect of them crashing against her lungs.

Was today supposed to feel like a goodbye? Was it the reason that Emma appeared today, of all days? To guide her to Chat Noir… and to give her words from Adrien that she would carry forever?

Adrien thought she was a natural mother. It meant one thing to hear it from the man you’d marry but another thing to hear it from your first love. Marinette couldn’t help her heart from singing, from the thought that Adrien saw her so highly. 

“Marinette?”

“Huh?” Marinette blinked.

Adrien laughed, brushing his hair from his face. “Oh, I was just saying… aren’t you glad there’s a long time till we have kids?” he rubbed the nape of his neck.

“Absolutely. I’m going to spend a good long while enjoying being sixteen,” Marinette smiled, biting the inside of her cheek. “But then… I think I’m also excited. To work towards getting married.”

Adrien blinked, suddenly flustered. “Do you… do you already have someone in mind?”

Marinette laughed. She was glad Chat could never hear the words she was about to confess to Adrien. Although maybe one day, when the two of them were married and in-between battles, she might confess that she realized she was in love with him on the first date with the guy she’d rejected him all this time for.

“Yup,” Marinette said with a smile, thinking of the kitty’s wide eyes and dramatic flair for romance. “I’m going to marry my best friend.”

Adrien coughed and Marinette noticed the tips of his ears turning red. “Wow… that’s… that’s really sweet, Marinette,” he said, fighting a smile off his lips.

“I know. We’ve gone through so much together that I think that the rest of our lives together will be a fun ride,” Marinette laughed. Before Adrien could reply, Emma suddenly began wailing, mumbling for an ice cream.

“Oh, I’ll take her,” Adrien said with a charming smile. “You should rest after carrying her all day.”

“No, Adrien, it’s fine-”

“We’re babysitting together. Let me handle it,” he said, pushing her gently down. Marinette didn’t protest any further, watching Adrien carry Emma down the bridge to Andre’s.

She was sure he’d make a great father one day. While it was a shame it couldn’t be to her kids, Marinette still smiled at the thought that somewhere in the future, Adrien would be there with her.

/

Adrien pinched his nose.

How the hell did future Chat battle villains with a daughter? Did he leave her alone with Marinette and run off? Did Marinette know about her husband’s crime-fighting identity? Adrien had a million thoughts running through his mind as he stared up at the blob of a monster, terrorizing the city.

He was certain there wasn’t much that could be done. If he were a little smarter, like his future self, he’d pass off the responsibility of his daughter to someone he could trust. Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option today.

Adrien searched the racing crowds desperately for Marinette, looking for any sign of her. For the first time, fear struck him cold at the thought of her safety. She wasn’t far from where the monster had appeared from… would she be okay?

Adrien shook the thought. She was strong. He was sure she’d be fine, wherever she was but… if only she were in sight. He hadn’t quite crossed the bridge with his wife-to-be about his secret identity but now he desperately needed Emma’s mother to handle her while he transformed.

“Papa,” Emma said, blinking.

“I know, Emma. I don’t know where Maman is… do you think Marinette would eat me alive if she saw Chat Noir fighting an akuma while holding her baby daughter?”

“Adrien, you’re worrying about the wrong Marinette. Do you really want to be on the end of future-you’s punch if anything happened to his daughter?” Plagg piped up.

“Hey! She’s my daughter too.”

“She’s his daughter. You’ve been too oblivious and stupid to deserve such a cute kid,” Plagg grumbled, flying around Emma with a kind of affection that Adrien had never seen from his kwami before. “Wow, she really looks like you.”

“And Marinette. She looks like Marinette too.”

“A little less oblivious now, are we?”

“Plagg, please. Back to the problem. What do we do?”

Plagg sighed. “Well… what else is there to do? Ladybug’s already out there fighting the akuma, Marinette’s nowhere in sight and you’ve got a daughter you can’t leave in the middle of a Paris alley. I’ll let your suit wrap her around your chest… just don’t bring me in the wrath of future Ladybug and future Chat Noir when they ask why Emma is covered in akuma goo.”

Adrien buried his hands in his hair. There was no wonder his future self was far more blindly trusting of Marinette. Marinette would be taking care of their daughter, far from akumas and danger and Adrien… Adrien was here, taking her into battle with them.

“Well?”

“I don’t want to hurt Marinette. I love Emma but…” Adrien cast a glance to the akumatized victim. “I can’t let my lady down. I’m sure they’ll understand.”

“For the record, I had nothing to say or do with this decision, I am a mere bystander-”

“Plagg, claws out!”

/

Trust Chat Noir to make the day Marinette was ready to give her heart to him as Ladybug the only day he arrived at an akuma fight ten minutes late.

“Took you long enough!” Marinette yelled as she bounced back on the ground from the akumatized victim’s shot of what seemed like jelly goo. “The akuma’s in his stick by the way!”

Chat nervously laughed, giving a hand to Marinette on the ground. “Um… my lady, I know we always fight as a duo but would you be opposed to an adorable sidekick today?”

“What are you talking ab- OH MY GOD! Chat, what the hell is she doing with you?!”

“Well, you see, there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for everything-”

“Why is she with you?!” Marinette bellowed, trying to take her poor daughter from the strapped blankets around Chat’s chest. The grip of the straps was far too tight though. Marinette could almost cry. When she’d said she wanted to see her Chat look more like the Chat from the future, she’d meant his height or big build… not in the way they both appeared with her daughter strapped to their chest in danger.

“Look, my lady, listen, I couldn’t leave her in the streets! She has a better chance of being protected like this than if I’d leave her on a bench somewhere!”

“Why couldn’t you leave her with Adrien?!”

“Papa?”

“Not now, Emma!”

Chat blinked. “How do you know her name?” he said slowly. “And how do you know she was with Adrien? Oh my God, did future Chat Noir pay a visit to you too?!”

Marinette buried her face into her palms. Was he really the partner she was supposed to raise Emma with? She was glad that there were years to go before the two of them would reach that burden because right now, she was almost guiltily wishing fate had been kinder to her and put her in Adrien’s path instead.

“Chat, now is not the time! Please! We need to break the akuma and figure out how to keep Emma safe. Please just… just be safe with her, okay?”

Chat nodded, blinking. “Of course I will. She is my daughter after all,” he said with a smile down at Emma. His black-leather clad gloves gently caressed the girl’s cheek, careful of his sharp claws.

Marinette stilled. So wrapped up in the chaos, she forgot she was witnessing the sight of her daughter with the man she’d one day call her husband.

In her mind, Chat Noir had always been a little bit of a child himself, chasing after love and thrill like a lost boy. There were countless times she doubted his sincerity in his fluttering feelings for her.

And yet… Now, when she looked at him, none of that doubt was there. All she saw was a boy with radiating love in his eyes, a gentle heart, one that had been begging for her to be careful with him all this time because his affection was never insincere. It was just that he had so much to give.

Marinette blinked back the pooling tears in her eyes. He looked at Emma with so much love and when his eyes came to her, his gaze only softened.

“Are you crying?” he asked, puzzled. 

Marinette quickly wiped the tears away under her mask. Now was not the time. “You… you’re gonna be a great father one day, kitty,” she settled for saying, running away towards the akuma without a glance back. Though he was out of earshot, Marinette still let herself say to the world, “I’m so glad you’re going to be the one for my kids.”

/

Adrien was fighting an akuma, with his future daughter wrapped to his chest, and his future wife somewhere out there in Paris. And first love had just told him that he was going to be a great father out of the blue.

Were all of the world’s gifts being given to him today?

“Chat, the light pole! If you cataclysm it, we can trap him!”

Adrien blinked, looking up. “Um… my lady, I would never be opposed to anything you suggest except- I don’t wanna give Emma vertigo by climbing all the way up there!”

Ladybug sighed. “Well, it’s not ideal to bring a daughter along in an akuma fight. For now, I’ll hold onto her while you go!” she said before mumbling, “we better find a way around this when the time comes. I might kill you if you bring Emma along into a fight in the future.” 

In a quick swap, Adrien was now watching Ladybug cradle his daughter to her chest. His first love and his future daughter. He hated how his heart fluttered.

Before today, it was her he wanted to be a husband for. He dreamed of holding their children, of living together and growing old by each other’s side… Adrien hoped that the part of him that clung to that fantasy would go away soon.

He feigned a laugh. “Of course I won’t. I’ll leave her at home with my wife.”

Ladybug stilled, and amongst the chaos of Paris behind her, he could see her body freeze. Suddenly, she was glaring at him. “Like hell you will!” she pompously snapped. “You should be the one staying home taking care of her!”

Adrien blinked. “Then who will save Paris?!”

Adrien didn’t know what he was doing that only seemed to flame Ladybug’s temper. “I’m the one who purifies akumas anyway! You should be the one taking care of the kid!”

“I- I don’t understand!” Adrien threw his hands up in the air. The sudden argument between him and Ladybug made him feel like they were having a lover’s spat, but he tried not to dwell on that thought. “Why couldn’t my wife just take care of Emma while I’m out here?”

“Chat, if this is how you plan to be in the future, I swear I will make sure there is no Emma!” Ladybug argued. “I am not staying home to babysit Emma while you get to fight!”

“No one said anything about you having to babysit! You can fight!”

“You said you’ll leave Emma alone at home with your wife!”

“Yes! My wife!”

Ladybug blinked in confusion. “Well, your wife doesn’t want to stay home to babysit!”

Adrien buried his face in his hands. The city would burn to the ground at this rate, while he would still be stuck in a conversation he did not understand. He watched Emma’s eyes go from Ladybug to his as if she were lost on who to listen to.

“I don’t see why Marinette would have any problems taking care of Emma,” Adrien sighed exasperatedly. His body instantly froze after saying the words.

He’d just told the name of his future wife to a partner who had no idea about his identity… Adrien’s throat dried up. Had he just fucked up everything?

He swallowed, risking a glance at Ladybug. She mirrored his expression of shock and he mentally braced himself for the scolding of his life from her.

“You… you- did future Chat go and tell you my name?!” she groaned, shaking with a frightening temper. “I thought that was off limits! Future Ladybug didn’t even tell me anything about you! I had to figure it out all on my own that we were going to get married!”

Adrien stilled. Whatever confusion he was facing before, it only seemed to get worse now.

“M- married?” he sputtered out, suddenly coughing. His head echoed the chaos ensuing in the city around him. The logical part of his brain told him to get back to work, save Paris… every other part of him told him that he was stepping on unchartered territory right now with Ladybug and he shouldn’t dare move.

“This is a mess. Emma, did we mess everything up?” Ladybug mumbled, looking down at his daughter.

“Ladybug… wait, I think- I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” Adrien cut in, awkwardly rubbing the nape of his neck. “I’m… I’m going to marry Marinette.”

Ladybug blinked at him as if waiting for him to say something more. For a moment, only silence passed between the two. They both seemed to be waiting for the other to finish their unfinished words.

It was in this silence that Emma’s voice became the loudest. She looked up at Ladybug, laughing and reaching for her dark hair to grab. “Maman.”

Adrien glanced between his daughter’s familiar gaze at his first love and his first love’s hair that looked an awful lot like his future wife’s. Despite the tense atmosphere, Ladybug still smiled softly at his daughter as she continued to call out for Maman.

Adrien burst out laughing. Maybe he’d be a great father one day. But he sure as hell wouldn’t stop being an idiot.

/

Chat would make a very strange husband, Marinette decided. One second, he was yelling at her that she would have to stay home to take care of Emma and the next, after a very visible mental breakdown of laughter, he was back on his game.

Once the two of them had gotten past the weird argument, it took only a few minutes for Paris to return to normal and a little butterfly to fly away, harmless and pure. All in a day’s work… with a baby wrapped around her chest.

“Sorry little Emma,” Marinette sighed, rubbing her suit-covered fingers over her daughter’s cheek. “Maman took you into a fight. You must’ve been so scared.”

Emma only giggled. 

“Well, you don’t really need to be scared. We’re just kids right now, but I promise once you come, Maman will be an even better superhero. And Papa too… if he ever sorts his head out. We’ll be good parents,” Marinette blushed before adding, “we’ll be a good husband and wife too, don’t you think?”

Marinette couldn't get sick of the bright, green eyes of her daughter. They really were beautiful.

Behind her, she heard Chat Noir’s feet land on the ground. He mumbled pleasant greetings to the Parisians walking by before coming to her.

“So,” he began. A new kind of smile Marinette had never seen before was playing on his lips. “Crime-fighting husband and wife?”

Marinette rolled her eyes. There it was. The smugness she knew she’d have to handle from the second she realized that the man she ended up with was Chat Noir. “This just sounds like a recipe for disaster.”

His glee was painted across his face. He couldn’t stop grinning. “On the contrary, I think it’ll be quite the dream. You, me, our kwamis and our little kids. Aren’t you glad future-you finally decides to fall for me and have that life?”

“I don’t know. Doesn’t sound like much is in it for me.”

Chat fought a cocky grin. “Well, you get a piece of twenty-six-year-old Chat Noir and I think you’d quite like him, my lady.”

Marinette had to hide her flushing cheeks by looking down at Emma. “I’m stuck with sixteen-year-old you right now. Let’s start one step at a time, okay?” Marinette mumbled. “We have a long way to go before we become good parents.”

Chat laughed. “Me maybe. But you’re a natural mother, bugaboo. You’ll be great.”

Marinette giggled. What was that her future self had said? That she’d be a good mother, but her husband was half the reason why. She wouldn’t tell Chat that now, but she was starting to think it might be true. He’d done something risky today but he had her back as always.

In unison, both of their Miraculouses beeped, reminding them of their time limits. 

“Oh! Gotta go,” Chat glanced at his ring before looking up at Emma. “Will you be able to handle her?”

Marinette smiled. “Papa’s done enough,” she teased, poking him away. “I’ll be fine.”

Chat laughed, pressing a kiss onto Emma’s forehead. “See you when I see you, little bug,” he whispered to the happy baby before looking at Marinette with a mischievous smile. Marinette almost jumped from the sneaky kiss he pressed onto her forehead too.

She still felt his lips on her skin, long after he’d leaped across rooftops away. Cradling Emma carefully against her, she sneaked into an alley quickly to de-transform.

“You did great Marinette! You took down the akuma and took perfect care of Emma,” Tikki smiled. “Chat Noir’s right! You really are a natural mother.”

Marinette laughed. “Thanks, Tikki. Adrien said that too- oh my god! Adrien!”

Tikki hid a knowing smile before going back inside her purse. Marinette instantly took off, running back to the bridge where she’d last seen Adrien leave with Emma. The poor boy… he probably was frightened to death, thinking he lost Emma and Marinette in the crowd.

Standing in the middle of the bridge, Marinette panted. “Oh Emma,” she chewed her lip. “You don’t think he’ll be too panicked, will he? Adrien?”

“Papa?” Emma only asked in response, blinking widely.

Marinette laughed. “Not Papa silly. You just saw Papa. Do you already miss him?”

Emma pouted, nuzzling her face into Marinette’s neck. “Papa.”

Marinette sighed. “Is this how it is in the future? Do you like Papa more than me?” she grumbled playfully. She didn’t think she’d even mind if little Emma gave all her devotion to Chat.

The two laughed together till Marinette heard her name called. As she turned, she hated the way her heart skipped at the sight. Adrien came rushing down the bridge, two ice creams clutched in his hands and a wide smile on his face. It was a scene she thought she’d recall in every dream from now on.

Ten years Marinette… you have ten years to get over that.

“Sorry! I went to get ice cream, then the akuma happened, then Emma-”

“It’s fine, Adrien!” Marinette forced a laugh. “You’ve been a great help today with Emma anyway!”

Adrien’s smile slipped into something softer. She almost wished she didn’t have to see it.

“Papa!”

“Hey Emma,” Adrien laughed, giving the ice creams to Marinette before taking Emma into her own hands. “You weren’t scared, were you?”

Emma shook her head happily. She nuzzled affectionately into his touch, still calling him Papa. 

“Sorry about her,” Marinette smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Looks like she likes her Papa more and you remind her of him.”

Adrien nodded, biting back a smile. “Well, that’s okay. I think her Maman already has someone who loves her far too much. It isn’t fair for her to get all of Emma’s love too.”

“Hm?”

Marinette blinked. That smile on Adrien… Why did it look both new and familiar at once? And why was he leaning in with a glint of amusement in his eyes, as if this were something ordinary between the two of them? And why, despite every better part of herself, was Marinette’s heart racing from being the focus of those eyes?

“Wouldn’t you agree, future wife?”

The ice creams dropped. Two cones sat planted in the ground and Marinette squeaked. The smugness she’d seen minutes ago on Chat’s face now appeared on… on Adrien’s. He laughed, sharing the joke with Emma in his playful stare. Her first love, the love of her life, and her future daughter… all in one sight.

“Adrien!”

“Uh oh Emma, your Maman is mad at me,” the boy laughed. Marinette chased him down the bridge but when she caught him, it was Adrien who pressed his lips to her forehead this time. 

/

“You took… our daughter into an akuma fight?!”

“Hey! She’s our daughter too. And don’t tell off Marinette,” Adrien pouted, jumping in front of Marinette from the towering Ladybug who had her hands on her hips. Hips he was having a hard time looking away from.

Adrien couldn’t tell Marinette - he wouldn’t dare - but while ten years would make him as Chat Noir just a bit more handsome, ten years would make her deadly.

He had to gulp a heavy breath when she appeared in Marinette’s bedroom, with her own Chat Noir on her tail. At first glance, he almost tripped from Marinette’s sofa. When he shared a look with his future self, his future self only feigned an innocent smile, fully aware of the inner workings of sixteen-year-old Adrien’s mind and how the stunning woman had short-wired it.

“I am allowed to tell myself off, Adrien,” Ladybug sighed. “Move away.”

“No way. It wasn’t her fault anyway!”

Ladybug shared a look with Chat. “Were you always this stubborn?”

Chat grinned. “Only when it comes to you,” he said with a wink and then with a glance at sixteen-year-old Marinette, “and her too, I guess.”

Adrien frowned. “Hey! Flirt with your own Marinette,” he grumbled, shooting daggers at his future self. For as hard as Adrien had worked to disguise his starstruck reaction to the future Ladybug, Marinette had put no effort into the same for the future Chat Noir. Her eyes were glued to him this whole time. Every time he moved or turned and the muscles strained against the suit, Marinette turned a little bit redder.

Adrien wasn’t sure whether to be jealous or flattered.

“Like I can’t see you ogling me,” Ladybug muttered before looking at Marinette. “Anyway. I’ll take Emma back now. While it wasn’t… ideal for you two to fight with her on hand, I know why you did it. Thank you for taking care of her.”

Marinette beamed. “Thank you for letting me have her today. I… I’m gonna work really hard,” she promised, her eyes bright and glittering. “To become a mother and superhero as good as you.”

Ladybug smiled, but before she could respond, the two boys answered in unison, “You’re already good.”

Marinette blinked, looking between Adrien and Chat. “Wow. This is trippy.”

“Tell me about it,” Ladybug sighed, before glancing at Adrien. “Thanks for taking care of her- well, me, Adrien. There’s gonna be a lot of tough times in the future but there’ll be a lot of good too.”

With a look at Marinette, the words came out of Adrien before he could stop them. “I think they’ll all be good.”

Chat sighed, picking up Emma. “I would make fun of you. But I’m exactly the same. Guess we’re even,” he grinned, offering a fist. When Adrien reciprocated, his fingers stung from the sheer force of a simple fist bump.

“Seriously man, what are you eating?”

“Nothing healthy. My wife’s family owns a bakery after all,” Chat said with a wink at Marinette. He turned to open a portal and Adrien squinted from the flash of light.

“Thanks for babysitting kiddos!” Ladybug smiled with a wave. Adrien could hardly wave back before the two of them were gone and the room was left with him and Marinette and their two sleeping kwamis.

And a hundred or so posters of Adrien.

“I really thought you’d be more into me,” Adrien mumbled in the empty room. “But you couldn’t stop gawking at Chat Noir!”

Marinette scoffed. “You weren’t slick about your staring at Ladybug either.”

Adrien rubbed the nape of his neck. “I was just… looking at how your suit would change. Very interesting, you know.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah. You have less spots in the future. It’s fascinating, right?”

“I guess. Your tail was longer too.”

“Is that so?”

“Yep.”

Adrien bit back a smile. “Well thank you for admitting you were checking out my future ass, Marinette.”

Instantly, he dodged the pillow thrown his way by her that he’d anticipated. Her face was flushed and he couldn’t get enough of how adorable it was. He’d have to soak it all up before she became all cool and confident like she was in the future.

With all the laughing and pillows being thrown around, Adrien didn’t hesitate in grabbing Marinette’s waist and pulling her closer to him. The two were wrapped together now on the couch and while the proximity was familiar, the racing heartbeat he felt at being so close to her was new.

“You really have Emma’s eyes,” she muttered, staring at him.

“You have Emma’s hair.”

“You have Emma’s nose,” she answered with a playful flick of it.

Adrien smiled, letting his eyes wander down her face. “You have her…” he trailed off, bashful of even saying the word.

Someday, he’d have a kid with this girl. But for now, he couldn’t even bring himself to get past the initial awkward shyness of two sixteen-year-olds around their first loves.

“What do you think?” Marinette asked hesitantly. “Of our… Our future together?”

Adrien grinned. “I love it.”

“Do you really think I’ll be a good mother one day?” she asked, suddenly leaning in closer. Adrien was sure she could hear the hitch in his heartbeat, pressed against him like this.

His partner, his best friend, his first love, the love of his life… how did he get so lucky? All in a day, he’d found all these people with just a little bit of the future.

Adrien brought his lips to Marinette’s cheek and pressed a kiss at the corner of her lips. “I think you’ll make a great mother,” he kissed the other corner. He leaned back for a second to share a smile before pulling her close enough that no distance remained. “But I think you’ll make an even better wife.”

[jimlingss]

Sugar and Coffee [12]

Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13

➜ Words: 2.1k

➜ Genres: 99.5% Fluff, 0.5% Angst, Pâtisserie school!AU

➜ Summary: It isn't hard to be a pâtisserie chef, but it's not a piece of cake either. It seems like for you in particular, life keeps throwing in one wrench after another. It always finds ways to make your sweets bitter. The cherry on top is Jeon Jungkook — a rival with a sensitive sweet tooth who always finds ways to complain about you.

cr.

“Never stop believing, never stop dreaming, and never stop doing your best!”   There’s deafening applause, standing ovations, and you get onto your own feet, clapping your hands together. The graduates are wearing bright smiles and they throw their hats into the air simultaneously. You watch them soar, knowing one day soon that’ll be you too.   Proud parents are gathered together, taking pictures while teachers are shaking the graduates’ hands, wishing them luck for their future endeavours. In the meanwhile, you hold the bouquet of flowers to your chest, paper crinkling underneath your grip and your eyes sweep the crowd.   “Do you see him?” you ask Jungkook.   He hums, hand placed on his brows to shield the blazing sunlight away. “No….oh, there he is!”   The two of you are dressed up for the ceremony. You’re in a modest dress that church goers would approve of while Jungkook is in a suit and tie like he’s going to prom. You appreciate him being here. He didn’t need to come, but he didn’t hesitate when you asked him to.    Jungkook just gives you the moral support you need.   “Y/N? Jungkook!” Seokjin is in his navy graduation gown, rich in colour. He wears a matching coloured hat with a yellow tassel and you muse the whole grad get-up looks good on him.   “Hey. Congratulations, man.” Jungkook smiles as a form of salutation.   “C-Congratulations on graduating.” You smile as well and extend your arm.   “These are for me?” He indicates the flowers, the corners of his mouth lifted. When you nod, Jin laughs and takes them. “I love them, thank you!”   “It’s nothing. I always promised I would see you walk the stage, so I’m just following through.”   “A woman of her word.” Seokjin grins, making you release half of a scoff and half of a laugh.   “Of course I am.”   You glance at Jungkook and he takes the cue. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom.” The boy hitches his thumb over his shoulder, slowly walking backwards. “I haven’t gone for about an hour now and my bladder is just killing me.” He stiffly laughs, almost bumping into some old lady. “Alright then. See you later.”   You sigh at his awkwardness and turn back to Jin. “Sorry about him.”   “No, it’s alright.” Seokjin smiles softly. “So you’re finished with all your finals?”   “Yeah, they’re all done. I don’t get much of a break though. My internship starts in two weeks.”   “Oh yeah!” He recalls, eyes lighting up. “Good luck. It should be really exciting. I still remember mine.”   “Thanks. I’m actually looking forward to it.”   “Good. You’ll make great memories, trust me.”   The pair of you stare at each other and you exhale lightly. “So this is it, huh, Kim Seokjin? All done with your schooling, you lucky bastard.”   The older man grins. “It’ll be you soon.”   “I know and I might beat you as a pastry chef one day, so you better watch out.”   Laughter bubbles out of his chest and it’s melodic to the ears. “I will.”   It’s a bittersweet moment, a nostalgic one. You remember going to his high school graduation, him at yours. Now he’s moving onto a new stage of his life again and in a way, you are too.    It occurs to you how grown up you’ve both become, how you’re not so young and naive anymore. “Can you congratulate Moonbyul, Sandeul, Ken and Hani for me?”   “I will. I’ll tell them you came by. They’ll appreciate it.”   You nod, but before you bid a final farewell, Seokjin raises his arm and gently ruffles your hair. The tension dissipates with his sincere smile. “I’m glad you came, Y/N.”   “Me too,” you say with an equally earnest smile.   “How’d it go?” Jungkook asks once you’ve regrouped with him again. You found the mop of black hair in the midst of parents and graduates, somehow munching on a hot dog he bought, and getting ketchup on his black blazer.   You hum, cheeks swelled with the biggest grin. “Good.”   You’re glad you came, that you followed through with a promise made a long time ago, one you could’ve pretended to forget. But you don’t regret showing up.    You and Seokin are almost strangers now, but you’ve realized somewhere down the line that it doesn’t make your time spent together any less fond. You loved him once and loved him wholeheartedly. He allowed you to do that. Allowed you to have those feelings and experiences.   You wonder if this is what closure is. It feels like a huge weight has been lifted off your shoulders, that your mind has been put to ease. Like you’ve finally closed a chapter of your life.

It’s the end of the year. All of you are halfway done with your diploma, if you’re not counting the internship and only the lectures and workshops. But it’s unfathomable how fast time moves when you don’t take notice or count the seconds ticking as you sit idly by.    Your first year is over — and you can still remember coming to this institution months ago wide-eyed and nervous. It wasn’t that long ago, but you can also see the light at the end of the tunnel, the end coming near. A lot has happened and a lot still needs to occur.   “Your internships are starting on the fourth?! Lucky, you guys get like a whole week break,” Taehyung grumbles, pouting. “I haven’t even finished packing and I’m leaving tomorrow.”   “You’re going to a catering company, right?”   “Yeah.” Taehyung perks up with a smile. “I might be starting sooner, but on the bright side, at least I’m not making wedding cakes.”   “Why does everyone hate wedding cakes so much?” You take offence, defending your internship that you’re actually excited for.   “Maybe because it’s probably one of the hardest things you could make. Wedding cakes are humongous. It’s laborious and takes days to make. There’s a reason why they’re so expensive.” Yoongi leans back as he’s proving his point. “Plus have you ever worked with bridezillas before who want everything perfect? There are Karens galore. I’m not eager to work at a restaurant, but it’s still easier than a wedding cake company.”   “I’m sure it won’t be that bad.” You have yet to learn how to actually make a wedding cake, but how hard can it be? At the end of the day, it’s just a bigger cake for a fancier occasion. You look over to Jungkook. “Right?”   But he doesn’t look you in the eye.   He mutters incoherently and when you roughly nudge him, he sighs. “I can’t say I’m….excited.”   “Didn’t you want to go somewhere that works with chocolate?” Hoseok asks, his own internship at the Marriott hotel. It’s a sweet gig and apparently close to where Aeri will also be working for her own cooking fellowship.   “Yeah.” Jungkook sighs again, running a hand through his black locks, picking up the habit of Jimin. Said man is already gone, left yesterday for a pastry shop in the city next door — a cute place he told you about called Bread & Butter. “But apparently the man who runs the place with his wife is a chocolatier.”   “It’s not about the place, it’s about the mentor,” you chime and he remains unimpressed.   “Yeah, yeah, yeah.”   You quirk your head to the side, lashes batting. “What? Not excited to spend a whole summer with me?”   Jungkook glances at you and then diverts his eyes quickly. He gives you no answer.   You click your tongue in annoyance. At least Taehyung can appreciate it, openly wishing he was working with someone that he knew.   Jungkook is probably the biggest reason why you aren’t afraid or anxious. You know you have each other’s backs, that you’ll learn together, and there’s no way he can be better at cakes than you are.   The man might be good at his chocolate but his cakes are dry.   //   “Try not to rip each other’s heads off,” Hoseok says moments before getting on the bus, duffle bag in hand. He’s the last one to go.   “Nah.” Jungkook throws his arm over your shoulder and pulls you towards his chest. “I still need someone to take the blame when things go wrong.”   “Excuse me?!” You turn to him and he laughs boyishly, making you pout.   Hoseok grins, bidding his last farewells before he gets on the bus and waves goodbye as the vehicle takes off down the road.   It’s sad to see all your friends going to different places, to forge their own separate ways. But you know goodbyes are inevitable and that it won’t be long till their return. You’re just glad that right now Jungkook is with you.   Campus empties out in the days that follow. Only you and Jungkook are staying in your dorm rooms over the summer. Hoseok is getting accommodation at the hotel he’s working for, Jimin is staying at a boarding house during the duration of his internship, and the rest going home where it’ll be more convenient for them.   It’s eerie to see the paths so empty, the dining center closed down, and the corridors void of people and noisy conversation. It’s apocalyptic. A ghost town.   There’s no one around but the pair of you.   “Are you ready?” you ask, breaking the silence. You spin around on your heel with a smile to face him, attempting to bring up the somber mood.   You don’t realize the small action has such a big impact.   Jungkook’s heart stutters. Your hair is flying in the breeze, the side strands brushed away behind your ear. Your eyes are glimmering as the sun sets, casting a golden hue on you that makes you glow. And you look at him so happily.    Jungkook has to resist the urge to pull you in. To kiss you.    He doesn’t know how he’s going to spend an entire summer with you and just you.   But he’s ready. “I am.”   “I’m gonna crush you, Jeon.” You laugh, not helping with his situation. Jungkook wonders what it takes to capture this moment and make it tangible. “Make the best wedding cakes anyone has ever seen.”   “You better walk the talk then.”   “Course, I will.”   Jungkook’s initial impression of you was never wrong. You’re stubborn, childish, a brat. You’re also annoying and irritating beyond belief. It’s amazing how sometimes you can just grind Jungkook’s gears without even knowing. But you’re also sensitive, sentimental, softer than he expected — and it’s what led him to have a closer view of you.    From the time you bursted into tears in the kitchen to when he called out your name to join him for lunch. Bringing you over to his friends' place and his family for the holidays. Teaching you how to temper chocolate and making truffles on Valentines for your ex. Going out on the town to be his wingwoman and having you as his partner in a competition and winning.   Those tiny moments lead him closer and closer.    Little by little.    One by one.   Without him realizing….   In these months that you’ve spent together, Jungkook has become unequivocally captivated by you.   “Y/N.”   “What?”   “I like you.”   Jungkook admits it out loud. Unabashedly. He tried to get over it, ignore it, clear his mind. He did all of it while trying to keep you by his side as his best friend, but it didn’t work. He can’t.   His feelings for you overwhelms him.   It’s a container overflowed with spillage all over the sides — he can’t repress it and doesn’t want to. He faces it head on, even if it’s reckless.   But you merely snort after a beat. “Thanks, grinch. I like me too. You’re not too, too bad, I guess.”   There’s no way you’re this obtuse. You’re not dense. Jungkook knows you well enough and he suspects you’re feigning ignorance, maybe because you’re traumatized and not willing to risk friendship again. But he presses on, not allowing you to ignore his heart on his sleeve.   “I mean it.”   “I mean it too.”   Jungkook assertively grabs your arm, stopping you in your tracks, He looks you dead in the eye, going for a bold strategy with no room for escape or for you to disregard what he’s spilling out to you. He corrects himself—   “I’m in love with you.”