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wherevermyway · 4 years

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you taste flamin’ hot | hyunsung | smut

pairing: han jisung x hwang hyunjin rating: explicit | 18+ warnings: explicit sexual content, awkward sexual situations, alcohol, public sex, food kink, deradation, watersports, dacryphilia. word count: 6,346 also on AO3!

originally published: 12 october 2020

Hyunjin and Jisung have no idea why they're roommates, or even friends. They're the polar opposite of each other: Hyunjin was well-pampered and high class, his platinum blond hair always well maintained, he was always draped in nice, bright, tasteful designer clothing; Jisung, however, was the exact opposite. Jisung would buy the cheapest, darkest shade of boxed black hair dye and hastily slather his hair in it, missing big patches and splattering viscous ink everywhere. He only wore black, sometimes with red accents, and would cake on eyeliner like there was no tomorrow.

Hyunjin was neat, well kept and groomed, and was a picky eater. Jisung was a sloppy mess, and practically lived off of iced americanos and spicy Cheetos. Hyunjin was a quiet, reserved drunk. Jisung was a sloppy, flirty drunk.

When they get drunk at a party one night, they finally realize that they were friends for one glaringly obvious reason: they were both incredibly sexually compatible, and Hyunjin finally had a good excuse to get messy.

disclaimer: any reference to persons in this work of fiction are purely coincidental. the characters referenced from Stray Kids are interpretations loosely based on their personalities in the group and do not represent the real people behind the personas. if this, or any of the content included in the warnings above make you uncomfortable, please stop reading now.

Crunching. That was the only thing that Hyunjin could hear as the younger man in his lap snacked on those toxic waste-like Cheetos that Jisung loved so much. They smelled briny and, not surprisingly, like they were laden with salt. Hyunjin could never understand why Jisung liked those stupid, messy, disgusting snacks so much. There was no nutritional value to them, they were overpowering, and they got absolutely fucking everywhere.

The residual red flakes from the spicy Cheetos bag stood out like a bright red highlighter on Jisung’s fingers. It didn’t bother the younger man, but it bothered Hyunjin. “Would you please go clean your disgusting fingers? Stop getting all of that shit on me.” He stared down at the bright, neon red dust and scowled.

Jisung cocked his head to the side, looking up to his senior in confusion, before he looked down to his own fingertips. “Ah, whoops,” he muttered before sticking his fingers in his mouth, rolling them around before grating the residual coating off of them with his teeth. “My bad, dude.” He immediately went back to scrolling and swiping around inanely on his phone, leaving oily, smudgy streaks on the screen.

Hyunjin groans, rolling his head into the back of the couch. “No,” he mutters, reaching down to Jisung’s phone, plucking it from his fingers and taking it away from him. “I mean, go actually wash your nasty fingers.”

“No,” Jisung mumbles, reaching up to grab his phone from Hyunjin, rolling his head in the lap of his senior. “I’ll do it later. It’s just not important now. I’m in the middle of my manga.”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes and groans. “You’re disgusting,” he says a bit louder than he intended.

“So what?” Jisung mockingly groans back, pressing the back of his head into the thigh of his senior.

“You’re disgusting,” Hyunjin repeated with emphasis, rolling his head back. “I don’t know how someone like you, so outwardly concerned about your cool guy aesthetic, is fine with being so gross.”

Jisung rolls his head back a bit, looking up to his senior. “It’s not hurting anyone, is it? Then what does it matter? Besides, I’m not that gross.”

Hyunjin sighs, sticking his hand underneath Jisung’s back and lifting him off of his lap. “Fuck you,” he grumbles as he stands up, brushing neon red crumbs off of his nice clothing. “I’m gonna have to get this shit dry-cleaned. I should make you pay for it.”

“Make me.” Jisung flopped back down on the couch, right back to the warm spot was from where Hyunjin was sitting. Without skipping a beat, he went right back to scrolling through his phone. “You wouldn’t have signed the lease with me if you were really that disgusted by me, and you know that.”

A frustrated groan erupts from the blond as he spins on his heel and storms off into his room, slamming the door behind him. He knew that Jisung was right, but he would rather walk on hot coals than admit that.

“Are you ready yet?” Jisung shouts into Hyunjin’s door. “You prissy bitch, I know you look fine. Stop fussing over your stupid hair and let’s go. I don’t wanna be late for the party.”

Hyunjin’s door flies open, and he scowls down at the black-haired man in front of him. “Like you’ve never spent hours in front of the mirror, trying to perfect your stupid eyeliner and get your bad boy look down. Sue me for wanting to look good.” He unironically flips his shoulder-length blond hair, almost as if he was punctuating his statement with sass. “Everyone’s going to be looking at me, anyways.”

The pair was an interesting duality. Jisung only wore black, would wear thick layers of eyeliner, and dyed his dark brunette hair deliberately darker: the cheapest, darkest box of black dye he could find. Hyunjin was the exact opposite: he wore only designer brands in bright colours alongside shades of cream and off-white. His hair was platinum blonde, well maintained with his monthly appointments, and had weekly manicures and facial appointments.

How the two of them got along as friends was beyond them. They shared virtually no similar interests, they butted heads all the time, and they were constantly yelling insults at each other. The thought of their sexual compatibility did cross Hyunjin’s mind several times, though. Especially on the nights when they would go out and party together. Jisung was a touchy-feely drunk, loud and experimental, and Hyunjin was quiet, loving all of the attention he got from him for it. They would recklessly flirt when they got drunk, but nothing ever came from it, because they still managed to be awkward cowards, even while hammered.

“Shall we?” Hyunjin sarcastically coos as he lightly shoves Jisung’s shoulder, pushing him out of the way.

The party, not surprisingly, was uneventful. Jisung forgot to eat something between the Cheetos incident and the start of the party, so he got drunk really quickly. About two hours in, he started doing body shots off of a couple of decent-looking guys, Felix and Chan. Hyunjin sipped on his vodka soda in the corner, enjoying his light buzz as he watched his friend be the sloppy drunk he always was.

“Jinnie!” The black-haired man called out to him, waving him over to the kitchen table he was sitting on. “C’mere, c’mere!”

Hyunjin rolled his eyes and slowly made his way over to Jisung. “What?”

Jisung hastily grabs the empty shot glass from earlier and the bottle of vodka next to him. He lays on his back, balancing it on his sternum as he tries to open the bottle without knocking it off of him.

“What are you doing?”

“I want you to take a shot off of me,” Jisung frowns up at the man as the glass falls and he attempts to stand it up one more time.

“You’re an idiot.” Hyunjin snaps at him, grabbing the bottle from Jisung. The younger man pouts, until Hyunjin grabs the glass off of him, placing it down on the table. He pulls up Jisung’s skin-tight black shirt enough to reveal his abdomen, causing the black-haired man to gasp and flush. “You take a real body shot off of skin.” Hyunjin unscrews the cap off of the bottle of vodka, then pours some of the liquid into Jisung’s belly button.

“That’s cold!” Jisung cries out, his abdomen flexing in response.

“Suck it up.” Hyunjin doesn’t say anything else as he leans down, feeling the warm heat radiating off of Jisung’s skin as he’s maybe a couple of centimetres away from his flesh. He flits his eyes up, making eye contact with a very confused Jisung. Hyunjin bites back a smirk, deliberately not breaking eye contact as he brings his lips to the rapidly warming liquid on the soft skin beneath him. He sucks up the liquid, wincing as the cheap vodka burns his throat as it goes down.

The look on Jisung’s face is priceless, but it’s made better as Hyunjin sticks out his tongue, rolling the tip of it around the bottom of Jisung’s navel, then around all of where the vodka touched his abdomen. “Oh my god,” Jisung drawls out the last syllable as he rolls his head back, letting it collide on the table with a soft thud. Hyunjin smirks to himself, knowing that was a good reaction he just got out of the younger man.

“That’s how you do a body shot.” The smirk on Hyunjin’s face causes a confused look to pass across Jisung’s face. Hyunjin knew he was finally going to fuck the life out of him tonight, and he was beside himself with excitement, thinking of making the man cry as he choked on his dick.

“We should go home,” Jisung breathes out, his chest rapidly rising and falling.

“Party’s just started.” Hyunjin smirks and takes a long swig of vodka directly from the bottle. Looks like his plan was paying off. “You sure you wanna abandon all of your friends so early in the night?”

Jisung sits up, wobbling a bit. He takes a second to reorient himself, then looks up at Hyunjin with a serious look in his eyes. “They’ll be fine. That’s not what I care about.”

“What do you want?”

“After that body shot?” Jisung bites his lip back and looks away for a moment, before looking back up to meet Hyunjin’s eyes. “You.”

“I like the way those chains slap against your ass, Sungie.” Hyunjin says, eyes trained on the back of the smaller man in front of him, entranced by the way the flimsy metal danced around his waist.

Jisung spun around and pouted at Hyunjin. “Stop looking at me like a piece of meat, Jin.” He attempts to walk backwards, but isn’t quite coordinated to pull it off drunkenly in knee-high platform boots. Jisung’s foot catches the sidewalk awkwardly, and he throws his hands in the air, waving them around to balance himself.

Hyunjin takes a long step forward, moving in to catch Jisung before he was able to tumble to the ground. The two of them make uncomfortable eye contact, and stare at each other for a beat too long. Hyunjin, without any tact, slips his hand down from the small of Jisung’s back, sliding his hand down under the chains draped from his hips, and grabs a fistful of the younger man’s ass.

Jisung lets out a whiny gasp as the firm hand makes contact with him. “Hyunjin,” he whispers in a panic, “we’re in public, what are you doing?”

“Letting people know what’s gonna be mine tonight.” The blond smirks, helping the younger man stand up. “C’mon, let’s go to GS25. I have an idea.”

Jisung’s face is a deep shade of crimson as his senior lets go of his waist and walks off without him.

The two men walk through GS25, and Jisung is about to dart off to grab a bottled americano from the cooler, but Hyunjin grabs his hand and yanks him towards the back. “What are you doing?”

“My parents own this one. It’s fine.” Hyunjin quips, still not answering Jisung’s question. He pauses in front of the staff washroom door for just a moment. “Wait here.”

“What? Why?” Jisung pleads, but Hyunjin darts off into a back room for just a moment. Jisung fiddles with his hands while he waits, clearly looking nervous as he waits for Hyunjin to come back.

Hyunjin comes back out of the door, holding a key between his fingers. He says nothing, just slides the key in the lock, opening the door and pulling Jisung in by the wrist. “Be quiet. My parents may own this place,” he locks the door behind him, then pins Jisung up against the wall, “but I don’t wanna get in legal trouble. Because I’m gonna wreck your fucking night and make a mess out of you, embarrass you so badly as we walk home. You cool with that?”

Jisung sputters incoherently, then nods his head nervously.

“No,” Hyunjin rolls his eyes, “use your words. I need to know you’re fine with the shit I’m about to do to you. I know you’re not into vanilla shit after that stint you had with Seungmin.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jisung grips at Hyunjin’s hips and he pleads with wide eyes.

“Good. Colours?”

“Yeah.”

“Good, because I wanna make you fucking cry.” Hyunjin presses his lips against his junior’s, jamming his tongue in between his parted lips. Jisung ruts his hips against Hyunjin’s, aimlessly letting his hands wander up against his cream coloured, silken shirt. The blond reaches down to his belt, undoing it and unzipping his pants. “Get on your knees.”

Jisung does as he’s told, bringing his face up close to Hyunjin’s crotch.

“I’m not gonna hold back unless you tell me to stop. Slap my wrist or my hips if it’s too much.”

Again, Jisung nods, which earns a glare from his senior. “Yeah, sure, I will.”

“Good boy.” Hyunjin coos, then pulls his cock out of his pants. He takes Jisung’s jaw into one of his hands. “Open.” Once Jisung’s opened his mouth, Hyunjin aims his cock into the younger man’s mouth, allowing him to run is tongue over him, warming up to the taste and the sensation of him.

It only lasts for a minute. Hyunjin roughly positions Jisung’s jaw right where he wants him, then takes his hand and slides it to the back of his head, gripping his hair tightly between his fingers. He slowly pushes his hips in, until he’s completely inside of Jisung’s mouth, rubbing up against the back of his throat.

Jisung’s eyes widen in panic for a moment, but then his eyelids flutter in excitement. Hyunjin takes this as an invitation to continue, pulling back and preparing himself to fuck his junior’s face like nothing more than a sex toy. “I’m not gonna stop until you cry.” Hyunjin says, then thrusts harshly into Jisung’s throat.

The younger man lets out a stifled moan, surprised as to how much Hyunjin filled his mouth. He reaches his hands up to Hyunjin’s hips and saliva comes sputtering up from his mouth as Hyunjin relentlessly continues to aggressively pound the back of his throat. It felt so good, but it hurt and he felt the tears welling up in his eyes.

“Gonna ruin that pretty face of yours,” Hyunjin pants, tugging on Jisung’s black hair a bit harder, with purpose. “Look at you, getting your face fucked in a disgusting public bathroom. I bet you love this kind of shit with how nasty you are, don’t you?”

Jisung lets out a choked affirmation, and starts to feel the tears spill from his eyes. He was secretly thankful they both had a little too much to drink, because his gag reflex had completely disappeared. He looked up at Hyunjin, meeting his eyes for just a moment before he closes them. Hyunjin grips his hair even tighter and thrusts more aggressively.

The tears start pouring, now. They weren’t tears of sadness or pain, they were tears of pure enjoyment. Jisung loved to be used like this, to be rendered as nothing more than a way to please someone. The way that Hyunjin’s cock felt in his mouth was enough to make him uncomfortably hard.

Hyunjin suddenly pulls out, relinquishing Jisung’s hair from his hands. “Don’t touch your face,” he pants out, then slips his dick back into his pants.

Jisung blinks rapidly, his moment ruined. “What? You’re not gonna come?”

“That’s for later.” Hyunjin pulls out his phone and aims it at Jisung. “Gimme a slutty face, I want a photo so I can show you how pathetic you look, and just for personal reference later.”

“Okay,” Jisung bats his eyelashes and offers a peace sign with his fingers, opening his mouth wide and sticking his tongue out.

“Beautiful, I love it.” Hyunjin stares longingly at his phone for a moment, before turning it to face Jisung. He captures a glimpse of the photo, his perfectly applied eyeliner now ruined, streaking down his face haphazardly and completely fucked up. Jisung subconsciously goes to wipe his face, but Hyunjin swats his hands away.

“Stay like that until we get home.” His voice is cold, calculated. “Don’t rub it off or try to make yourself pretty, my disgusting little Sungie. I want the strangers we walk by to know how much of a dirty slut you are for me.”

They take a moment to compose themselves, then walk through the GS25. Hyunjin doesn’t bother with returning the key, just leaving it in the door. He grabbed Jisung’s hand, interlacing his fingers together. “You sure you’re alright with this?”

“I’ve done worse,” Jisung quips. “This might be the most obvious ‘my-throat-just-got-fucked’ look I’ve ever had, though.”

Hyunjin laughs, leading him to the cooler. “Grab your stupid americano. I’m gonna grab something for us while we’re here.”

Jisung cocks his head as Hyunjin walks over towards the bagged snacks, but doesn’t question it. He doesn’t question it until he’s got his americano in hand and they are at the counter together, and Hyunjin tosses a bag of spicy Cheetos onto the counter. Jisung looks wildly at Hyunjin as the clerk gives them both a horrified look.

“What?” Hyunjin says to both of them. “Boyfriend had a rough day, just making it better.”

They get home maybe ten minutes later, earning some choice looks from passersby on the street as they walked down the sidewalk, Hyunjin’s hand down Jisung’s tight back pocket. He was wearing women’s pants, he figured, with the way they hugged his hips and his ass, and he loved it.

Hyunjin unlocks the door, letting Jisung walk through first. Jisung spins on his heel in confusion, but Hyunjin just tosses the bag of Cheetos to the younger man, then bends down to untie the intricate weaving of Jisung’s knee-high boots. “Shut up and eat them. Get that stupid red shit all over your fingers.”

Jisung’s eyes nearly pop out of his head, and he makes some sort of unintelligible noise.

“Shut up and eat your toxic waste-looking shit.” Hyunjin doesn’t bother looking up as he undoes the lacing in the first platform shoe, then moves to the next one. Jisung opens the bag, shaking his head in disbelief. He wasn’t going to turn down the opportunity for a post-drink snack, especially if it was his favourite thing and if it wasn’t going to bother Hyunjin.

Hyunjin holds the boots down, and looks up at Jisung. “Get out of these.” Jisung steps out, as requested, and Hyunjin tosses the shoes carelessly to the side before undoing his shoes. “I can’t believe you actually walked around in public with makeup streaked down your face.” He scoffs, sliding his shoes off and neatly tucking them onto the rack by the entrance. He stands fully upright and gets directly in front of Jisung, centimetres away from his face, pushing him up against the wall next to the kitchen. “You really liked it, didn’t you?”

Jisung nods twice, a single Cheeto halfway in his mouth as he stares up in confusion at Hyunjin. “I didn’t tell you to stop eating.” Hyunjin gently pushes the snack into his mouth, as daintily as possible, with a single finger. He scowls at the residual dust on his finger, then grabs a fistful of the briny, neon red sticks from the bag. “Open.” He commands, and Jisung obeys.

Hyunjin takes his free hand and tilts Jisung’s chin up, then firmly grips his jaw and holds his mouth open. He drops a few of the snacks into his mouth, letting the younger man chew them and swallow, looking up at Hyunjin with big, pleading eyes. Jisung opens his mouth again, and Hyunjin deposits the last of the snacks into Jisung’s mouth.

Hyunjin snatches the bag from Jisung, putting it down on the kitchen counter, then grabs the bottle of coffee. “Don’t clean your fingers off yet. I want you to get that shit everywhere in a minute.” He says, passing the drink to his junior, who accepts it, opening it and taking a few hasty swallows. Jisung is barely able to take his lips off of the bottle before Hyunjin is pressing his lips up against him.

Jisung practically chokes on the americano, some of the drink leaking from his lips, sputtering on to Hyunjin’s face as he barely swallows most of the cold liquid. More spills as Hyunjin assertively jams his tongue into Jisung’s mouth, spilling down his chin, spilling down Hyunjin’s chin. They were making an absolute mess out of each other and it was so wrong, but it strangely felt incredible to ruin each other.

The two of them continue to kiss for a few moments, then Hyunjin pulls away, looking down at his hand. “You know,” he says, “you’re awfully messy, huh?”

Jisung bites his lip, nodding his head in excitement. “What are you gonna do about it?”

“I’m gonna make it worse.” Hyunjin quips, leaning into Jisung’s face. He takes his tongue and drags it up the side of his junior’s cheek, repeating this a couple of times, then he takes his reddened, crusty hand and pushes it into Jisung’s cheek. He leaves a red, greasy mess tangled up in the streaks of black eyeliner on Jisung’s face.

“You look so filthy.” Hyunjin’s voice is breathy and layered with excitement as he stares down at Jisung with wide eyes. “I’m gonna take a photo of this, too.” He reaches back into his pocket, hastily snapping a couple of photos without even bothering to show Jisung. “Come on,” he pushes his phone into his back pocket “Let’s get cleaned up.”

Hyunjin steps back, letting Jisung peel himself off of the wall. Jisung takes a couple of steps forward, before he’s stopped by Hyunjin taking a fistful of his hair and pulling him along as they walk towards the washroom. “Ow!” Jisung sharply whines. “Why are you dragging me?”

“You want me to stop?” Hyunjin asks insincerely, continuing to lead the two of them along. “Didn’t hear you tell me a colour.”

Jisung whimpers. “No, I don’t want you to stop, it just surprised me.”

Hyunjin chuckles once as they approach the washroom. He flips the light on, then shoves Jisung in, pushing him into the wall with force. He crashes his lips against his junior, the nauseating taste of coffee, spicy Cheetos, and a little bit of vodka overwhelming his senses. It should distract him, make him not want to kiss Jisung at all, but it strangely drew him in, like a moth to flame.

They continue to roll their tongues around each others’ mouths, as Hyunjin works on getting them undressed. He unbuttons his nice, silky shirt, then tosses it to the side. Jisung unbuttons his pants, chains clattering as his pants and briefs collide to the ground. Hyunjin grabs the hem of the bottom of Jisung’s shirt, hastily pulling it up over his head and discarding it somewhere past his shoulder.

“Get me off,” Hyunjin demands, grabbing Jisung’s hands and bringing them to the button of his pants. “I’m gonna come all over that pretty face of yours. You’ll look so pretty with white, black, and red all over you.”

Jisung fumbles a bit with the button of Hyunjin’s pants, too distracted by the promise his senior made. He eventually undoes the button, pulling the zipper down, then helping Hyunjin shimmy out of his pants. Once they were both fully disrobed, Hyunjin grabbed Jisung by the hair and pushed him down.

“On your knees, where you belong.” His voice is stern, but also dripping in anticipation. “It’s probably not gonna take long with that pretty mouth of yours wrapped around me.” Jisung opened his mouth, presenting his tongue to Hyunjin before he takes his cock into his mouth, unprompted, but Hyunjin doesn’t complain. “Oh, that’s good,” he groans, tilting his head back.

In this moment, Jisung is like the antithesis to Hyunjin. While his senior is rough and direct, he’s more gentle and calm, enjoying taking his time with things that have a good payoff. The two of them together worked a little too well, Jisung managing to tame the wild side of Hyunjin, while Hyunjin brought out the freak in Jisung.

Hyunjin wrapped his fingers in Jisung’s hair, looking down and making eye contact with Jisung as he offered a few tiny licks at the head of his dick. It was cute, he had to admit, but he didn’t want cute, not right now. “Come on,” Hyunjin whined, “don’t be a brat and tease me. You know I’m impatient.”

A devious smirk curled up Jisung’s lips as he pulled back. “Shut up.” He barked back at Hyunjin, dropping his cutesy, quiet demeanour. “Learn how to let go for once in your life. Not everything is about instant gratification, you uptight bitch.” His lips pulled up into a wide grin as he could barely contain his excitement when Hyunjin chewed over the words he spat at him.

“'Uptight bitch'?” Hyunjin tugs Jisung’s hair, pulling his head back. “That’s awfully brash of you. Did you forget that you’re the one that’s covered in filth?”

“Bite me.”

Jisung’s attitude snaps something in Hyunjin. “Fuck you,” he growls as he tugs at Jisung’s stupidly dyed black hair harder, enough to make him squeal, to open his mouth just enough to push his cock in, all the way to the back of his throat. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

The younger man starts to drool uncontrollably as Hyunjin repeatedly, aggressively thrusts his hips back and forth. “I can’t believe you had the audacity to speak that way to me. Gonna fuck your throat so hard, you’re not gonna be able to talk back to me for a week. Change that attitude of yours right quick.”

It felt good, probably the best oral he’d ever received. The people Hyunjin had been with before were usually never this experimental. He’d never felt comfortable enough to ask someone if he could ruin them in such a way. He loved taking beautiful things and destroying them; it was something he was never able to do, being forced to be such a pristine example of high-class lifestyle for his entire life.

Jisung looked up at Hyunjin with wet, teary eyes, more black streaks being painted on his face. To anyone else, it may have looked like he was truly unhappy, but the way that his pupils were blown wide open, his eyes were half closed, and the way that his dick twitched with every thrust was enough to drive Hyunjin mad.

The blond pulled his cock out of the black-haired man’s mouth, letting go of his hair, moving his hand down to his chin as he firmly held it upright. He stroked his cock feverishly as the two of them made eye contact. Jisung closed his eyes, knowing what was coming, and he opened his mouth, sticking his tongue out to catch any stray cum that would stream down his face.

“Fuck you,” Hyunjin pants as he removes his hand from Jisung’s chin, slamming his hand on the wall, his cum splashing onto his junior’s face. “Fuck your stupid face. Fuck your attitude.” He gasps in between statements, stroking the last bits of cum onto Jisung’s tongue.

Hyunjin took in the way that Jisung looked, and it took his breath away. Jisung was an absolute mess. Jisung blinked one of his eyes open a couple of times, looking up at Hyunjin. His face was covered in sloppy, patchy streaks of eyeliner, there was still some oily red flakes on his face, and now, there was cum dripping down from his forehead, rolling down his nose and eyebrows, down to his cheeks, some hanging from his lips.

That’s when Hyunjin gets an idea. He reaches down to grab his phone out of his pants, taking a couple photos. “You look so wonderful like this, a masterpiece with the last strokes of paint on you.” He tosses his phone back down to the floor and walks over to the medicine cabinet. “I’m almost done with you. Get in the shower and wait on your knees, and I’ll clean you off before we shower.”

Jisung swipes some cum off of his eyes so he can see, he slips his socks off, then shuffles over to the shower, where he obediently waits on his knees.

Hyunjin makes his way back to the shower and tosses a bottle of lube in between Jisung’s legs. “I’m gonna let you fuck me in a minute when we finally get all of this shit off of us. But I’m gonna make one last mess out of you yet, get some of that cum off of you.”

Jisung’s eyes flutter open and widen as Hyunjin towers above him, cock in hand. He suddenly realized exactly what he means. “Dude, are you seriously about to piss on my face?”

“And in your hair. Do you not want me to?”

The younger man takes in a sharp breath and closes his eyes. “I love this. Clean me off, stuck-up pretty boy.” He presents his face and opens his mouth, and the sight is almost enough to get Hyunjin hard again.

It takes a minute, but the stream weakly starts, splashing up against Jisung’s face. The sudden warmth and shock causes the younger man to flinch, but he gets into it immediately, rolling his head all around the stream and making sure that it gets all over his face and in his hair. Hyunjin lets out a strained groan as he empties his bladder on Jisung’s face, enjoying the view far more than he should’ve.

Hyunjin shakes out the last few dribbles, then drops to his knees in front of Jisung, gripping his face tightly as he pulls the younger man in for a hasty kiss. He didn’t care about the acrid taste that danced on their tongues, he just couldn’t believe that someone actually indulged him in all of his strange fetishes, all in one night, so he had to show his appreciation in some way.

“Okay,” he says as he pulls back, “let’s actually get you cleaned up, then I’ll let you fuck me.”

Jisung rubs his eyes and nods his head. “You know,” he scoffs, “you’re probably the freakiest, messiest person I know. Messier than me, just so you know.”

“Shut up.” Hyunjin stands and grabs Jisung’s hands, pulling him up to his feet. He reaches behind the younger man, turning on the shower. The water is cold, shocking both of them a bit, but then quickly warms up. “You went along with all of that,” he scoffs as he wipes off all of the mess of various substances off of Jisung, “so that says something about you, too.”

“Yeah, it means that we’re both pretty freaky and should do this more often.”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes and turns to grab a dry hand towel from off of the wall, passing it off to Jisung. “Wipe off your face so you can finally fuck me.”

Jisung takes the cloth, making sure to dry his eyelids off well enough so he didn’t have any leftover irritants on his face. “Don’t have to tell me twice.” He reaches down to grab the lube and tosses the hand towel behind him. “Now I get to have my fun with you. Face the wall and keep that pretty mouth of yours shut.”

Hyunjin lets out a scoff, but chooses not to say anything in response as he slaps his hands on the wall dramatically, slightly bending over and presenting himself.

“Don’t you look pretty like that?” Jisung flips the lid of the lube open, squirting some on his fingers. He takes another step closer, putting his free hand on Hyunjin’s hip as he takes his lubricated fingers to the older man’s rim. “You want my fingers inside you, pretty baby?”

“Yeah,” Hyunjin whines, “do your worst.”

“Maybe if you ask nicely.”

“Fuck you.” Hyunjin’s arrogance earns him the loss of Jisung’s touch.

“I’ll leave you here by yourself and just go jerk off or something.”

Hyunjin turns his head to face Jisung, a look of bewilderment on his face. “You wouldn’t.”

“Be that way,” Jisung steps back, making his way towards the shower door.

“Wait, please!” Hyunjin whines, surprised he was actually begging for this. “Please come back and fuck me, okay?”

Jisung smiles and turns back to Hyunjin, grabbing his hips and hastily slipping his index finger inside, causing the older man to whine. “Pretty bitches like you are always so impatient. You need to be taught a lesson.” He twirls his finger around a bit, circling the digit in a calculated motion to find the older man’s prostate. before Hyunjin arches his back and lets out a strangled cry. Jisung bends down next to Hyunjin’s ear and whispers, “I wanna fuck you so hard that you can’t walk straight in the morning.”

Hyunjin curls his toes a bit at the comment. “Please,” he whines, “that sounds so good, Sungie.”

“It’s nice seeing you not being such a spoiled, impatient brat,” Jisung laughs and slips his middle finger inside. “You should let loose like this more often. You might think that, just because I let you make a mess out of me, even in public,” he continues circling his fingers around the sensitive spot inside of the older man, causing him to let out pathetic mewls, “you think that I’m not going to devastate you? Nah. I’m gonna wipe that stupid, ‘holier-than-thou’ grin off your face.”

Hyunjin was honestly surprised that Jisung had such an attitude in him. He knew that Jisung was a bit of a brat, but to be so commanding was the inverse of his personality. This kind of night/day difference in Jisung was causing Hyunjin to go mad.

A third finger slips in, causing Hyunjin to throw his head back and let out a drawn out moan. It was almost too much, too soon, but there was something about the way that the discomfort of the stress made him feel so good. Jisung waited a moment for Hyunjin to adjust, to relax a bit, before he started circling his fingers again.

“I can’t believe it took you so long to admit how much you wanted me.” Jisung condescendingly coos, slowly moving his fingers around. “Can’t believe you actually begged me to fuck you. You really want my cock inside of you, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Hyunjin whispers, and Jisung isn’t very pleased with that.

“Speak up and speak nicely, otherwise my pretty little prissy bitch won’t get what he wants.“

This new side of Jisung was shocking, but also a turn-on to Hyunjin. He’d never been talked down to like this by anyone; he was always the one that took control and talked down to his partners, but it felt good to just let go for once. He had his cocky, arrogant moment, now it was time for him to be put in his place.

“Yes, please,” Hyunjin whines, resting his face against the cool tile. “Fuck your pretty little slut, please. Show me where I belong.”

Jisung lets out a laugh as he grabs the lube again, squeezing a generous amount onto his cock. “The slut gets what the slut wants, hmm?” He teases, before he slides his fingers out slowly, then replaces the empty space with his cock. He does so in such a painstakingly slow manner, that Hyunjin lets out a frustrated groan, but knows better than to say anything.

“Impatient, hmm?” Jisung grabs both of Hyunjin’s hips and bends down to be right up next to his ear. “I don’t care. I’ll take as long as I want with you.” He sinks his teeth into Hyunjin’s exposed shoulder, causing the older man to shudder. Without warning, he pushes himself all the way inside of Hyunjin and it causes both of them to make guttural, sinful noises.

“I’m getting you back for this, just so you know,” Hyunjin spits out in between pants.

“I didn’t ask you for your opinion.” Jisung bites another mark into Hyunjin’s shoulder as he slowly rocks back and forth at an even pace. “Do you always talk so much?”

“Are you always this much of a fucking tease?”

A sharp huff of air is exhaled through Jisung’s nose as he scoffs. “Alright, fine. You wanna play that game, I’ll play along.” He stands fully upright and takes a fistful of Hyunjin’s hair and pushes his face firmly up into the wall, using his head and his hip as anchorage as he moved at a relentless, unforgiving pace.

Hyunjin’s eyes roll back as his face gets repeatedly slammed into the tile wall with Jisung’s thrusts. He doesn’t intend to, but he lets out pathetic moans each time Jisung’s hips slap against his thighs.

“This is the only noise I want to hear you make.” Jisung says, pants punctuating each thrust he makes. “You talk too much.”

“Payback for how disgusting you are.”

“I don’t wanna hear it.” Jisung lets out a moan at the end of his sentence. “Okay, fuck, I’m really close. Where do you want it?”

“Don’t care. Come inside, outside, on my face, it doesn’t—“ Hyunjin is about to tell Jisung that it doesn’t matter, but, before he can finish his sentence, the younger man bottoms out behind him, and he feels cum filling up his insides.

Jisung pants and collapses onto Hyunjin’s back, loosening his grip on his blond hair. “That was so much. How are you feeling?”

“I’m pretty sure you broke my cheekbone, but we’re fine.”

“Oh, shit,” Jisung panics for a second. “I didn’t even think about trying to get you off again.”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes. “It’s fine. It would take a while anyways, I’m not lucky enough to have a freakishly short refractory period. You’ll just have to make up for it later. Anyways, can we please shower? We’re wasting the hot water and I feel disgusting and I’m pretty sure I have your nasty Cheetos flakes in my hair.”

After their shower, the men towel off and awkwardly stand in the washroom. “Now what?” Jisung questions, staring up at Hyunjin. “Are we supposed to, like, cuddle or something?”

Hyunjin looks down to Jisung, then spins on his heel before he’s able to see the inevitable blush creeps up on his face. “I don’t care. It’s pretty cold in here, so I won’t say no.”

Jisung shrugs his shoulders and follows Hyunjin towards his room. “Alright, cool, I guess.”

“That was fun and all,” Hyunjin says as he opens the door to his bedroom, “I just hope you know that you’re paying for my dry cleaning, you filthy brat.” Hyunjin says as he flops down onto the bed.

“Worth it.” Jisung quips, laying down next to Hyunjin and curling up into his chest. “I’ll pay to ruin your clothes any time you want, you prissy bitch.”

#hyunsung #smut #skz smut #han jisung x hwang hyunjin #hwang hyunjin x han jisung #hyunjin x jisung #jisung x hyunjin #wherevermyway

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kaiwritess · 4 years

Note

hii love! i think i have an emergency request? or idk really lol kill me anywaays, what would Daichi, Kuroo, Bokuto and Sugawara do if they found little notes in their so's phone/phonecase/wallet which are telling them not to eat, starve themselves and stuff like that? (1/4)

TW: EATING DISORDERS; CONTINUE WITH CAUTION

+ idk, i just feel my mindset going back to these kinda things and i know its bad but at the same time i dont want to stop, because i feel like i am in control and i dont want others to butt in and tell me to eat and stay fat, but then again, i would love to hear it from someone so that i would know that someone cares about me (2/4)

+ but i lowkey know that no one actually cares about me and im not important to anyone, so all i do is looking at myself in the mirror and crying and seeking comfort from fictional characters who would probably think that i am ugly and fat and hate me too oops🤷‍♀️ (3/4)

+ and i am sorry for dumping all of this on you, i promise i dont want to make you feel sorry for me or anything, it just came out? finally i could actually send it to someone instead of writing it into my journal, it lowkey made me feel better. okay so, if this triggers you, then please, feel free to ignore me, i know what this shit feels like, and the last thing i want to do is make you feel bad, seriously. and i am also sorry if seemed to be rude, i swear i know my manners, just not right now:(

author’s note: okay first things first, you don’t ever need to apologize for venting! i’m honored that you’re opening up to me, and it truly means a lot. i’m sorry this took some time to write, and in the end, this was more like how the guys would react, and less of what they would do, if that makes any sense. i’m certain that all the hq characters would aid you with recovery. and i know we don’t know each other in real life, but i wanted to let you know how proud i am of you for staying so strong. times get rough, and the fact that you’re staying strong is amazing. i love u so much, and thank you again for opening up.

S/O Has Harmful Notes in Their Belongings

Daichi Sawamura, Kuroo Tetsurou, Bokuto Kotarou, and Sugawara Koushi

trigger warning: eating disorders

[DAICHI SAWAMURA]

Daichi was always wary about your behavior. He picked up the small hints you unintentionally left behind, like how you always found an excuse to skip a meal.

His worries significantly increased when he began to notice the small notes in your wallet. Sure, there was a possibility that it could’ve been a grocery list, but every time you opened your wallet and saw the note, he saw how sad your eyes got.

He found out about the whole thing after he got a hold of your wallet. You dropped it while walking, and his curiosity got the best of him. As soon as he read what was on the piece of paper, his heart plummeted.

Daichi tries to avoid confrontation, but in circumstances like this, it seems like confrontation is the only option. Although he tries to bring it up calmly, Daichi finds himself having a difficult time forming words. What could he say to make you feel better? How can he help you?

“What have you been hiding? These notes... how long have you been carrying them?” his voice cracks.

From then on, Daichi will be monitoring every meal, making sure you’re getting enough nutrients. Despite all his actions, he can’t help but feel so helpless...

[KUROO TETSUROU]

Like Daichi, Kuroo was always concerned about your appetite. It didn’t help how you always avoided restaurant dates or anything that had to do with food for that matter.

Nevertheless, he brushed it off as you having a small stomach, which is something understandable as Kenma also barely has an appetite.

One day as you were walking to the grocery store, Kuroo noticed that you were holding a piece of paper. When he questioned you about it, you said it was a “to-do list for school”.

Kuroo saw through your lies easily (lying to him is one of the hardest things to do in the world), and immediately called you out on it. “You’re lying to me, aren’t you. Let me see it,” he said firmly, taking the note out of your hands. He read over the words at least ten times, each time beating himself up for brushing off the red flags you left behind.

Oh man, this dude is going to feel so guilty. He’ll probably blame himself for not being able to help you when the signs were glaringly obvious. By now, you’re crying, angry about how he found out.

All Kuroo can think of is helping you, and that’s it. Nothing else. He pulls you in for a tight embrace, unable to stand how you were dealing with alone. He says softly in your ear, “I’m so, so sorry for not noticing before. Please let me help you.”

[BOKUTO KOTAROU]

It’s no secret that Bokuto can be utterly oblivious sometimes. However, through Akaashi’s influence, he found himself improving on picking up important signs.

At first, Bokuto didn’t think much of your “unusual habits”. There were many times where you checked your phone before eating something, but hey, doesn’t everyone do that?

It became a routine. Before every meal, you checked your phone, turning the screen away from everyone else as if you were hiding something.

He found out what you were hiding in the middle of a coffee date. Bokuto was sitting beside you, trying his best to hold his tongue before saying or doing something stupid. You checked your phone as usual, but this time, Bokuto’s overwhelming curiosity made him act without thinking.

“Hey, what’s on your phone?” he asked, leaning towards you. Before you were able to close the notes app, he caught a glimpse of one, very concerning phrase: “Don’t eat a lot, or you’ll regret it.”

Everything clicked for him; all the times you checked your phone before every meal, how you had an unusually small appetite, etc..

For the first time, Bokuto is speechless. His eyes are wide and his mouth was slightly agape. You didn’t know what to say, nor could you think of an excuse for what was on your notes. Before you could even stammer out a syllable, Bokuto looked at you dead in the eyes with a look of pain, and whispered, “Why?”

[SUGAWARA KOUSHI]

Sugawara isn’t a stranger to the red flags of eating disorders. His incredibly perceptive nature allows him to notice the signs you leave behind, like how you barely eat any of the meals he cooks.

His concerns were confirmed after finding about your disorder unintentionally. Sugawara was helping you clean up your room when he discovered a little note that escaped from your bag. After reading the words you wrote, he dropped the note with various intense emotions.

Immediately confronts you about it. “[Y/N], can we talk?”// “What’s this?” he shows you the note with trembling hands.

You knew you were unable to make up a lie, and so you confessed about everything that was going on. The tears kept flowing, and you were so ashamed that Sugawara found out. You knew how much it hurt him.

After you told him everything, he started crying as well. He’s so thankful you told him, but at the same time, Sugawara felt so... scared. He hated how you did this to yourself, yet Sugawara doesn’t know how to help you recover. There was no promise that you wouldn’t do it again in the future as well.

Dropping to your knees, you let out the sobs you tried to hold back. You thought he would be mad, so you were surprised when his thumb wiped your tears away.

“I promise I’ll help you through this. You will not be alone, okay? So please... please let me into your heart.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Thanks for reading!

- Kai

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ve1vetyoongi · 4 years

Text

better with you | 02

Chapters: index

Pairing: Seokjin x female reader

Genre: fake dating/arranged marriage!au, smut, angst, humour.

Word count: 18k

Summary: A part time job as a chef at Paradise Resort seems like the perfect way to spend your summer and save up some spare cash to open your own restaurant back home. That is until you cross paths with the CEO’s son who threatens to fire you if you don’t help him inherit his trust-fund-baby-fortune. How? By making you his fiancé. Well, his pretend fiancé at least.

Warnings: (mostly) fluffy smut, unprotected penetrative sex, handjobs, oral (f recieving), creampie, spanking, lots of pining hhhhhh.

A/N: HELLO omg it’s literally been so long since i updated this fic and let me tell you it was so fun to finally write for these characters again!!! thank u for everyone who has sent lovely asks about the first chapter and for waiting so long for the next one! ily and i hope ur all staying safe and well during these crazy times my honeybuns <3<3

"Seokjin," You gasp. "N-not here."

Fingers toy with the hem of the expensive sequin dress you found wrapped up in tissue paper on your bed that morning, edging agonizingly closer to the damp throb between your legs that under normal circumstances would require immediate attention from Seokjin -- if only you weren't in the back seat of one of the Kim's private cars.

"Why not?" Seokjin mumbles against your neck, the way his plump lips nibble the lobe of your ear making you shiver. "I know you're wet for me. Nobody has to know if I just..."

His palm cups your heat brazenly, and you have to bite back a moan, cheeks flushing when Seokjin chuckles low and gravelly against your ear. Your arrangement as you've taken to calling it has been going on for a few weeks now, Seokjin dragging you along to family outings and fancy dinners as his fiance and rewarding you with sensual rendezvous and get-to-know-me time in between.

"I know you want it, sweetheart." He drags a finger down your panties and you whimper. "Just say the magic word, and I'll give it to you."

Oh god. You are so weak for his touch, and he knows it. The things Seokjin's tousled hair and cocky smirk make you feel should be illegal. Anyone would think you have the sex drive of a teenage boy, constantly eager to jump his bones just looking at him. But not now, not here. The windows might be tinted, but you are sure you spot the chauffeur's eyes drifting to the backseat in the rear view mirror.

"Sir," The driver coughs, eyes trained politely to the steering wheel. The car has stopped at some point, not that either of you noticed. "We have arrived."

Seokjin flashes you a satisfied look as his hand reluctantly slips out from beneath your skirt so he can fish around in his back pocket for his leather wallet, throwing a couple fifty dollar bills on the front seat as a tip. "Thanks, Pierre."

You're still busy straightening your skirt when the car door opens and a black-gloved hand helps you out onto the sidewalk. You can't help but blush ferociously when you meet the driver's knowing gaze, a smirk playing on his lips. "No problem, sir'"

"I'll take it from here." Seokjin nods to the driver and slips his elbow through yours. Pierre lifts his black cap, before getting back into his shiny Mercedes and whizzing off into the city traffic.

Your legs shake in your stilettos, partly because you're not used to walking in anything other than your beat up converse but mostly because of the reassuring smile Seokjin sends your when when he see's you glancing around nervously.

You're in a upper class part of town, the street lined with shiny black cabs and designer boutiques with French names you can't even pronounce. You can't help but feel out of place, like the eyes of every passerby see right through your immaculate rich facade and see you for the ordinary kitchen girl that you really are.

"Don't worry," He leans down, pressing his lips to your ear so only you can hear as he pretends to adjust your diamond necklace. At least you think its diamond...what would you know? "You look beautiful. Just relax."

A small smile plays on your lips. Beautiful. It makes your heart flutter like a butterfly between cupped palms, even though you know it shouldn't. That's been happening a lot lately, and you don't like how easily he can make you melt. Snap out of it! You tell yourself.

Still, his reassurance makes you feel more at ease than before, and you straighten your shoulders with a new found confidence as Seokjin takes your hand in his, even if it is just for show. You have to make the fiance thing believable, after all.

"You still haven't told me where we're going." It's true -- Seokjin is good at keeping secrets. Probably because he knew that you'd say no to most of the crazy situations he seemed persistent on putting you in.

"Don't hate me," Seokjin eyes you carefully. You narrow your eyes, with a nod that says go on. "Hyejin wants us to go dress shopping."

"You bought me this new dress this morning?" You smooth down the front of the floaty summer dress that hugs your figure.

He coughs, eyes averting yours. "Wedding dress shopping."

That's when you come to a stop on the sidewalk outside of an elegant white-brick bazaar, eyes widening at the glaringly white dresses styled on mannequins that stare at you from behind the floor to ceiling windows.

Seoul Bridal - For All Your Wedding Dress Needs.

Your blood runs cold. Oh no.

You grip his hand tighter. "I'm going to kill you."

Seokjin is already pushing open the door with a chuckle that mingles with the tiny tinkling bell that rings out and announces your arrival. Too late to kick off your stiletto's and run.

"After you, sweetheart."

"Welcome to Seoul Bridal," A pretty lady with curly hair in a striped pant suit welcomes you inside with a hand shake. Her name tag says Wheein, and you can't take your eyes off the red lipstick on her teeth. "It's nice to finally meet you, Seokjin."

"The pleasure is all mine," Seokjin responds, voice deep with a suave charm that makes the girls behind the reception desk giggle unashamedly. For some reason you have to resist sending a glare their way, not missing the way your chest burns when Seokjin flashes them a dazzling smile. "Hyejin said you had some ideas for Y/N's wedding dress?"

"Of course. We have everything ready. We just need to get some measurements first." She smiles at him courteously, then whips a tape measure out of her trouser pocket which she wastes no time in wrapping around your waist. "Arms up, please." She murmurs as she slides the glasses balanced on top of her head behind her ears so she can get a better measurement of your shoulder width. You send an eyeroll Seokjin's way when you hear him snort bemusedly at the sudden man handling.

While Wheein bites the cap off a pen with her teeth and scribbles down the size ratio of your waist to your hips for future reference, you finally get the chance to take in the boutique properly. The sweet scent from the bouquets of white roses all over the room fills the air and the walls are painted a blush pink to match the faux fur rugs. Streams of sunlight pour through the chiffon curtains making the racks of blindingly white wedding dresses of all sizes and designs glow invitingly.

"Which one am I trying on?" You ask absentmindedly, nodding towards the sea of satin and lace hanging delicately from pink hangers.

Wheein looks up confused, then her nose wrinkles with distaste."Oh, none of these darling. You deserve the very best." She starts walking quickly towards a back room, heels click clacking as she beckons you to follow her with a crook of her finger. "We received some luxury designs from two of our best designers in London and Milan just this morning -- oh! And it looks like the dress from Paris just arrived!"

She shuffles you and Seokjin into a private dressing room, seating you on an elegant couch upholstered with grey velvet. Seokjin picks up one of the gossip magazines on the coffee table and helps himself to the complimentary cupcakes, all while you wring your hands together nervously, Wheein emerging from the large closet with three white garment bags.

"Here they are! Oh, how exciting." She claps her hands together with a beaming grin in your direction. With a flick of her wrist she removes all three bags, revealing three of the most beautiful dresses you've ever seen. You must look dazzled, because Wheein crosses her arms triumphantly. "Hyejin knew you'd like them. Just wait until you see the veils..."

She disappears into another room, and you're left gawking at the garments set in front of you like a goldfish. Fingers trembling, you reach out and touch the first one. It has a giant poofy skirt, like something you imagine a princess would wear, and you imagine how it would float down the aisle like a real life cloud. The second is more slinky, with shiny beads littering the bodice that glint silver beneath the glow of the chandelier and the third is made from gorgeous lace that shows skin in all the right places.

"How much did these cost?" You hiss to Seokjin, ripping your hand away like your touch alone might burn a hole in the fabric.

"Hm?" He says through a mouthful of cake, eyes widening when he takes in the dresses for himself." Too much, probably. Hyejin went a little over board but honestly, these aren't as bad as I was expecting." Seokjin runs his hand over the lace one, and nods approvingly. "You should've seen the rejects. One had a trail longer than my monster coc-"

"I can't try on any of these!" You splutter, arms hugging your torso. They're too beautiful for someone like me, is what you want to say, but you don't. "I'll look dumb."

"Just do it." He leans back against the wall with a roll of his eyes. Like this is all nothing to him. "It's not like you actually have to get married in one of them."

Ouch. His words sting, even though you know they're true, and you're reminded of the real reason you came here in the first place. It makes your stomach turn, how he can go from the sort of sweet Seokjin you know when you're alone to the cold, arrogant rich guy in the drop of a hat.

You turn away so he doesn't see your frown, when you catch a glimpse of something white in the corner, poking out from beneath a dust sheet. Your curiosity gets the better of you, and before you can help it you're crossing the room and ripping the sheet away to reveal another dress; except this one makes something in your chest flutter.

It's simpler than the others. Tiny white roses are stitched into the sleeves, the neckline dipping into a V shape where the bouncy chiffon skirt meets the satin waistband. It's straight forward, uncomplicated. Just how you like it.

"Have you decided which one you want to try on first?" Wheein's shrill voice calls, but it's drowned out by the blood pumping through your ears.

"That one." You breathe, pointing at the dress that you can't help but reaching out to touch.

"That one? Are you sure, darling, I'm sure we can find something more fancy--"

"No!" It comes out too loud, and you cover it with a cough, turning to send her a pleading smile. "I mean, no, no thank you. This one, please. I want to try it on."

"You know, when Hyejin told me Seokjin was finally getting married I just knew you would have to be something special." Wheein says once you're safely alone in the dressing room, away from prying eyes and mischievous ears. "Suck in."

"Hm?" It's all you manage to get out as you're strapped into a boned under-corset that feels like its trying to squeeze every last breath out of you. You're so close you can smell her floral perfume.

"It's just that I've had so many wedding dresses made that never made it to the aisle. Honestly I was starting to think Seokjin would never settle down..." She trails off, lip tugged between her teeth as she helps you step into the floaty white dress, tying the belt into a bow at your waist before stepping back to admire her handy work. "But now I see what made him change his mind. You make a beautiful couple."

"Oh." You realise she's looking at you, a blush creeping up your neck. "Right."

If only she knew the truth.

You start to turn towards the mirror, but she plants a hand on your shoulder hurriedly. "Nuh uh. No peeking yet." You feel your face drop. "Don't look so worried. It looks perfect. He's going love it."

"I...I have to show him? Now?" You shift uncomfortably. The shoes are rubbing your soles and the sleeves sort of itch. "Isn't it bad luck for the groom to see the wedding dress before the big day?" You ask sheepishly.

"This is just the rought blueprint," Wheein reassures. "It doesn't count."

"I..." Your voice breaks. The thought of Seokjin sat out there with his roaming eyes seeing you in this dress makes your stomach churn. "I'm nervous."

"Don't be. Save that for the big day." She bites her lip, stepping back to look you up and down like there's something missing. Her eyes light up, and she digs around in a leather trunk in the corner to retrieve a sparkly tiara which she tucks neatly into your hair. "There. Perfect. Now lets not keep him waiting, hm?"

"Holy shit."

The words leave your mouth before you can think better of it.

Your reflection stares back at you, wide eyed and awe stricken, except it doesn't look like you at all.

The dress is beautiful. There's no denying it. It hugs your waist perfectly and the skirt waterfalls down to your ankles in just the right way. Wheein tugged your hair over your shoulders so the sweetheart neckline shows off just the right amount of collar bone, tiara sparkling beneath the soft light. A matching veil partially covers your face, and you've never felt more beautiful than you do now.

It's almost enough to make you want to believe that this is all real. That you're marrying Seokjin. That you get to walk down the aisle looking like...this.

"I don't see why I have to get all dressed up, Wheein, it's no big deal -- woah."

The door flies open, and your eyes snap up to meet Seokjin's in the mirror.

He has half of his seventh cupcake hanging out of his slackened mouth, his hair gelled back and tousled to reveal his forehead, and his piercing brown eyes that can't seem to decide where to look, glancing up over your exposed shoulders and down to your ass and back again, like he can't get enough.

He's lost his casual slacks from earlier, seemingly under Wheein's instruction, now clad in a black suit and matching shiny-toe'd shoes. His tie hangs slack around his neck, like he tugged it loose, and he fiddles awkwardly with his cuff links as he tries to get a grip over his roaming eyes.

"Y-Y/N you look--"

"Beautiful, right?" Wheein straightens his shirt, fastens his cuff links and knocks him beneath the chin to remind him to close his gawking mouth with a tut. He nods, speechless. "I'll leave you two to talk."

The door shuts behind her, and the room suddenly feels quieter than now you and Seokjin are alone, him on one side of the room, you on the other. You dare to meet his eyes and you find them staring straight at you, the glint that's usually there replaced with a wonder that's soft and gentle around the edges. You melt beneath his gaze.

He clears his throat, scratching a phantom itch at the back of his neck. It's the first time you've seen Seokjin seem sort of...awkward?

"C'mere." His voice is low, filled with something you can't quite put your finger on. "I want to see you."

You have to remember how to get your feet to work, hesitantly putting one in front of the other to cross the room. Seokjin stands with his palms clasped, a small smile playing on his lips as you close the space between you, and you swear you can hear the wedding bells already.

After what feels like ages, you stop a few paces away from him. He steps towards you carefully, flipping the veil out of your eyes like he's done it a million times before.

"Hey." You whisper. You don't know what else to say, but it makes Seokjin laugh and the sound makes your chest squeeze.

He looks dapper in his suit, like a real groom, and as he leans in closer, closer, until there's barely any distance between you, you can smell his cologne.

Your eyes fall shut instinctively. You almost swear when you open them there'll be a pastor and a pair of rings and Seokjin will be saying I do--

"You scrub up pretty well, huh?" His breath tickles your ear, and your eyes snap open to punch him in the chest playfully.

"I could say the same for you, mister."

A thumb grazes your jaw, tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. "Whoever gets to marry you is one lucky bastard."

The pounding in your chest is so loud you're sure the whole store can hear it. His lips are inches from yours, parted and plush. You've kissed them plenty of times before but only in the height of passion. Never like this. Not when his touch feels like a jolt of electricity running straight from his body and right into yours.

Just when you think he's going to give in and close the distance, he turns your face in his palm and plants a peck on your cheek. It's soft, careful. Like he's not really sure of it himself, his hand running through your hair before he takes a couple steps back with a shake of his head. Like he almost did something he shouldn't have.

"What time do you have to be at work?"

The question breaks you out of your trance. You realize he's staring at you expectantly, waiting for an answer. "Oh--not until this evening." You manage to choke out.

"Good. Then you're all mine for the afternoon." He grabs another cupcake from the stand and disappears behind one of the fitting room curtains. "Hurry and give the dress back to Wheein and I'll call Pierre to come pick us up."

"Where are we going?"

You hear him snort. "You'll see."

"This is where you wanted to take me?"

The late afternoon sun sparkles on the surface of the Paradise lake like diamonds. It's peaceful here at this time of day, the gardeners already disappearing into the lounge for a late lunch, rows of pastel canoes tied up to the dock bobbing in time with the chirping birds.

"Well?" Seokjin huffs impatiently. He's stood in the hull of a dark blue canoe that he stole from the boat shed — or borrowed, as he put it, since everything here belongs to him anyway — hand extended towards you. "Aren't you getting in?"

You narrow your eyes and nod towards the sign that says NO BOATS ON THE LAKE AFTER 4PM in curly gold letters. "Isn't that breaking the rules?"

Seokjin raises a brow, jangling a set of keys. "I own this place remember? Besides, I stole the boat worker's keys so we can stay for as long as we want."

The breeze ruffles your skirt, a shiver running down your spine when you peer over the edge of the dock and see your sheepish reflection staring up at you from the water, rippling and watery around the edges. You never did like deep water, and the thought of getting in that rocking capsule of death makes your stomach churn.

"It looks cold," You point out, grimacing at the clear blue water. "What if we fall in? Do you even know how to steer this thing?"

Seokjin shoots you a look, like you just said the dumbest thing he's ever heard. "Pfft. Of course. I've been taking rowing lessons since I could toddle."

Of course he has. You roll your eyes. Rich kids, huh?

"Oh come on, it's fine!" He jumps up and down as if to demonstrate just how safe, but the boat just rocks manically side to side and he has to grab the dock to steady himself before he plunges straight into the lake. He flashes you a sheepish smile. "See?"

You cross your arms, unconvinced. "Yeah, I think I'll pass."

Seokjin slumps into the canoe with an exaggerated sigh. "Well goddamn, I'm sorry for wanting to do something nice. We don't get much alone time so I thought—" He waves his hand at you in frustration, starting to unravel the rope keeping the boat secured to the dock. "You know what, fuck it, I'll just go by myself—"

"Wait!" Something about the disappointed frown on his face makes you change your mind. Fuck it. "I'm getting in."

He pauses, and then his lips curve up into a small smile. Not his usual too-big-too-polite smile; the kind of smile you reserve for special moments. The glint in his eye is back, and if your legs weren't already jelly, they are now.

"I knew you couldn't resist me." He stands up and puffs out his chest, offering you his hand again, which you take this time.

"Don't be an idiot." You flush. "The lake just looks inviting today."

"Whatever you say, sweetheart." He chuckles, before his arm wraps around your waist so he can throw you over his shoulder and tip you into the canoe.

"Seokjin!" Your knuckles whiten with how hard you grip the edge of the boat that tilts left to right sickeningly with the impact of your limp body being man handled into the hull. "Be careful!"

"Okay, okay. Just sit back. Relax. Enjoy the view..." You wobble over to the wooden seat opposite him, grateful for the way the boat balances out on the surface of the water. "Let me take care of everything."

You have to admit the view is beautiful. Dangling your hand over the edge of the boat, you let your fingers swirl through the cool water, and listen to the hum of a speedboat nearby. The sun has turned the water a yellowish hue, like liquid gold.

When you look back up at Seokjin, the sight of his lightly perspiring skin glowing beneath the stream of light as he unties the left oar practically takes your breath away. You almost want to reach out and see what it would feel like to touch his cheek, run your hand down his chest where his flesh peeks out from the top of his dress shirt...

"Ah, shit!"

There's a light splash and you're snapped out of your trance, a pair of sheepish eyes staring back at you.

Yeah. Never mind.

Seokjin peers over the edge of the boat, watching as one of the oars floats into the middle of the lake. The canoe has already floated just out of reach of the dock, so without it you are stranded.

You let out a panicked groan. "I thought you knew how to steer this thing?"

"I do!" He grunts, a flush creeping up his neck. "Besides, I said I knew how, not that I was good at it."

He fumbles with the latch beneath his seat which opens to reveal a secret compartment, inside of which are a pair of life jackets, and, much to your relief, a spare oar.

"Aha! We're saved." Seokjin pulls it out and waves it at you with a look of satisfaction.

You roll your eyes and settle back into your seat as Seokjin grasps both oars and starts to row. "Wow, my hero."

"Don't thank me too hard." He snorts.

You shoot him a look, and he breaks into laughter, the sound melodic enough to have you joining in and before you know it you're both chortling uncontrollably. It feels easy, nice.

Your laughter dies out into a hazy giggle, and you shut your eyes, letting the sun caress your face.

"You're nothing like how I expected you to be, y'know."

Seokjin splashes you gently with the oar. "What did you expect?"

"Hmm, I don't know. Stuck up, selfish rich dude with an ego complex?" You snort, but Seokjin's chuckles have disappeared now. His brows are furrowed when you open your eyes, and you feel sort of bad for ruining the ease that had settled between you. You shift awkwardly. "Can you blame me?"

"Huh," The boat floats beneath the shade of a weeping willow, the scent of white blossoms and freshly cut grass filling your senses, and Seokjin hauls the oars into the boat so he can rest for a while. "You know, it pisses me off that everyone sees me that way. I don't want to be that guy."

"Why?" You're surprised by his honesty. There's a sincerity in his voice that you've never heard before.

"I just...I just try and fit in. To make everyone happy, I guess."

He avoids your gaze, looking out over the lake with his chin in his palm and his shoulders slumped. Your heart twists.

"If it helps, I don't see you as that guy anymore." You shrug. "When we first met I thought you were just like everyone else at Paradise. But you're...different from everyone around here. Nice. Underneath all the designer of course." That earns a snort from him. "Why do you hide that side of yourself?"

"You're hardly one to talk about hiding, kitchen girl." He crosses his legs and points a finger at you. "One minute you're calling me a douche and shooting arrows like an Olympian and the next you're getting all insecure when I call you pretty or something."

You feel a blush rise in your cheeks. Insecure? Is that how he sees you?

"Do not." You mumble.

"You act like you're so much better than me for being good, and then have a fit when I say something nice."

"Well, I never asked you to call me pretty. That wasn't part of the deal." You pick at an invisible piece of lint on your skirt. "I figured you were humouring me."

Seokjin's eyes turn serious. He leans forward, like he's about to take your hand or something but changes his mind.

"I know...that what we have is weird. I know I ask you for a lot, and we're supposed to be strictly friends with benefits but—" He sighs, trying to find the right words."I like spending time with you. Like this. Just us."

You feel giddy, suddenly shy beneath his gaze. "I do too."

"And I always mean what I say, Y/N." A breeze ruffles his hair, and he shoots you a grin. "Like I said earlier, whoever gets to call you theirs is one lucky bastard."

I'll be yours, you want to say, but you know it would be futile; someone like Seokjin could never belong to you, and that's exactly why you don't belong here.

"Oh shit."

Before you can respond, Seokjin's expression is turning grave as you both watch with matching horror as the spare oar splashes into the lake.

"Please tell me there's another one underneath there." You nod towards the storage compartment with wide eyes.

"Nope." He scratches his neck awkwardly and shrugs."That was our only one."

"Then shouldn't we call for help or something?!"

"No, I have an idea. You lean over the edge and I'll hold your legs."

"Me?! Why can't you do it."

"Because I'm heavier, duh? I'll tip the boat." He links his fingers together pleadingly. "At least try, or else we'll be stuck out here all night!"

You cup your hand around your watch face to block the glaring sun. Your kitchen shift starts in forty five minutes and you can't afford to be late. Namjoon will certainly fire you on the spot.

"Fine!" You wobble to your feet and slide over to his side of the boat. "But you better not let go, or I'll kill you."

Seokjin salutes. "Scouts honour."

Before you can change your mind, Seokjin has both hands wrapped around your thighs and you're sent hurtling head first over the edge of the boat, face inches from the water's surface.

With a grunt you extend your arm, and your fingertips barely brush the oar, sending it further away.

"Fuck!" You call over your shoulder. Seokjin is red in the face with extortion, and you feel the boat rock as you lean further out. "I can't go any more or we'll tip!"

"Just a little more!" Seokjin yells back. "You've almost got it."

"Okay...almost..." You shift a little more and aha! The oar is just within your grasp! Until you hear a low buzzing coming from behind you, and you hear Seokjin yelp, his grip on your legs starting to slacken... "Jin? what are you doing?"

"Get off me!" He yells, letting go of you in favour of slapping something on his shoulder wildly, and before you can give him a piece of your mind the canoe loses its balance and tips upside down, sending the pair of you hurtling into the lake.

You manage to hold your breath before you go under. The water is an icy shock on such a warm summers day, your limbs flying into action and scrambling wildly until you break the surface and take a heaving breath.

Wiping the tendrils of dripping hair from your eyes, you glance around for Seokjin, but he's no where to be seen.

"Seokjin?" You call, panic evident in your voice. "Where are you?"

Bubbles appear on the surface of the water, and before you can let out a sigh of relief, a hand grabs your ankle and yanks you back under the water.

When you surface, choking and spluttering, you're beneath the cover of the upturned canoe. Seokjin grins at you, whole and in one piece and perfectly alive, and you can't help but feel pranked.

"Hey, sweetheart." He drawls, running his fingers through his soaking hair. The shadow of the rippling water reflects on the underside of the canoe, turning his skin a pale blue. "Fancy seeing you here."

"Seokjin!" You yell and he jumps when you start splashing him wildly. "What the fuck was that?"

He shields his face with his hands."It was a bee! I'm allergic."

"So? I was hanging out of a fucking canoe!"

"Oops." He's chortling now, and it echoes beneath the canoe. "Did I let go?"

You splash him again, and he grabs your hands with his to stop you from sending another tsunami his way. His palms are warm compared to your clammy ones and his eyes are watching you fondly, but that just pisses you off even more. "Okay! Okay! I get it, I'm sorry okay?"

"You idiot! Now I'm all wet and I'm totally going to smell like trout at work and—"

"Just shut up for a second would you?" A hand brushes the tangles of wet hair from your cheek, and before you know it a pair of plump lips are crashing against your own.

"Mmf!"

You're surprised at first, but there's something so tender in the way his hand cups your chin to pull you closer, how his arm curls around your waist, and before you know it you're grabbing him by the collar and kissing him back wildly like the world is ending and you're the last two people on earth.

"You're kinda cute when you're mad." Is what Seokjin whispers against your lips when he pulls back, out of breath.

"Oh." You breathe, a smile beginning to play on your lips. "Okay."

It's like you're in your own little bubble. Just Seokjin and you. You and Seokjin.

Until it bursts.

"Holy shit! Are you guys okay?" The sun is glaringly bright when the canoe is ripped away from your heads, and you have to squint through your fingers to see the figure swimming towards you.

"M-mr Kim?"

Seokjin jumps back from your body at the sound of his title, his hand letting go of your wrist. It falls into the water limply.

"That's me." He coughs, straightening his tie, like he isn't soaking wet and it's somehow going to make him look more professional.

"I didn't know you were rowing today..." Your eyes focus, and you instantly recognise Taehyung, the Paradise lifeguard. You have met a couple times at staff meetings.

Shit. You turn your face to the side, and hope he won't look to closely.

"I wasn't." Seokjin deadpans, gesturing to his soaking appearance. "Y/N and I thought we would go for a swim."

"I— oh." You muffle a chuckle at Seokjin's sarcasm and the wide eyes of the life guard who seems utterly stunned.

It doesn't seem so funny when he turns to you suddenly, eyes scrutinising, and offers you his elbow.

"Here take my arm, we have to get you two dry."

You glance at Seokjin carefully, but he just nods for you to go ahead, so you take Taehyung's arm and let him pull you back to the dock, Seokjin leisurely kicking on his back behind you like he doesn't have a care in the world.

Once you're safely on dry land, Taehyung disappears into the boat shed before returning with a pair of towels which he drapes around your shoulders with a concerned look.

"Take these. You aren't hurt, miss?"

"No." Seokjin answers for you with a roll of his eyes. There's a bite in his tone. Is he...jealous?

"Good, this is why we say no boats after 4..." Taehyung sends Seokjin a stern look, and you feel the tension rise when he just clicks his tongue in response. "I should really report this to my supervisor."

"We won't do it again," Seokjin's eyes bulge when you grab Taehyung's forearm. The lifeguard seems surprised himself, looking you in the eyes for the first time. You turn on a sickly sweet tone and bat your lashes. "We can keep this between us, hm?"

"I...I suppose so." Taehyung coughs, but then his eyes narrow. "Hold on a second. Do I know you from somewhere?"

Your mouth turns dry. "I..."

"No!" Seokjin jumps in between you, wrapping a protective arm around your shoulder. "She's not from around here."

His face has turned a deep shade of red, and you can feel his heart beating rapidly against your back. Anyone would think he was embarrassed. Then again, what did you expect? You are just a kitchen girl after all.

You nod slowly. He sighs with relief. "No. We've never met."

Taehyung scratches his chin, stepping back to get a better look at you. "It's just you look super familiar..."

"We have to be going now!" Seokjin stands up suddenly and grabs you by the hand. He squeezes extra tight, swinging your interlocked fingers where Taehyung can clearly see them. "Thanks, uh...Taehyung?"

"My pleasure, Mr. Kim." The lifeguard looks startled by Seokjin's sudden departure, but steps back to let you pass. "Be careful next time okay?"

"Yup, we will kid."

"Thanks!" You call over your shoulder, as Seokjin is already dragging you away from the lake and up the steps to the grand veranda that lines the resort.

"Thanks?" He rolls his eyes. "Y/N, the lake is like a foot deep, it's not like we were gonna drown."

"He was nice..." You bump his shoulder playfully. "Why? You jealous?"

His cheeks flush pink. "No! Of course not, I just...didn't like the way he looked at you."

You reach the top of the steps, and Seokjin slows down to a leisurely walk once he's in the clear. From here you can see the whole of the resort, sprawling greenery and luxury living in all its glory.

"Speaking of, that was a close one." You laugh. "He totally almost recognised me."

"Yeah." Seokjin laughs too, but then his face drops. "You're right. That was close."

"Seokjin?"

He stops, and turns towards you. His hand drops to your waist, lifting you up so you're sat on the balcony's edge, and then his mouth is capturing yours once again.

This time something feels different. It's desperate, but timid. Passionate but broken. It leaves you breathless.

He pulls away first.

"Jin, what just happened—"

"I..." He swallows thickly and looks away. "I shouldn't have done that. I've gotta go. I'm sorry."

It's then, as he turns and hurries down the back staircase towards the plaza and leaves you all alone on the veranda, that you realise you had never let go of his hand, not even for a second.

"I had fun tonight." Seokjin says as he drops you off at the Paradise gates after an evening spent perusing high fashion wedding venue magazines with Hyejin over tea and finger sandwiches. "Hyejin looked like she was on the verge of a stroke when I suggested walking down the aisle to The Thong Song."

Seokjin boasts a simple T-shirt and tailored pants tonight, the turtle neck draped over his shoulder unnecessary on such a warm and sticky summer night blessed by the lingering caress of the day's blazing sun. The drive slopes downwards, Seokjin's angular shadow a contrast against the twinkling lights that blur Paradise into a picturesque backdrop of pristine white brick, and a warmth spreads through your chest as he beams at you.

"I thought it was a fine choice," You muse, suppressing a giggle when you think back to the way Hyejin dropped her teacup at Seokjin's suggestion, eye twitching in disgust. "We're not even engaged yet and she already has our entire wedding planned out."

Oops. Seokjin stiffens. Your laughter comes to an abrupt stop, face reddening with embarrassment at your slip up. Of course you aren't engaged. You never will be. At least not to each other.

He's been weird like that, lately. Ever since that day at the lake when he left abruptly, seemingly shaken up, you've been walking on egg shells around him. One wrong word could send him flying away with that same scared look in his eye. And honestly, you still don't understand why.

All you know is that things have been different since you almost got caught at the lake. Sure, you've continued to hook up like normal, but Seokjin seems to be making a conscious effort to be more distant around you. You haven't talked about what happened that afternoon on the veranda, but it's clear something did; Seokjin hasn't kissed you since.

If Seokjin notices your poor word choice, he doesn't mention it. "Pretty sure she has my entire life planned out too." He murmurs almost bitterly, despite his face boasting a smile that doesn't quite meet his eyes. You figure it's better not to press him further.

He walks beside you to the end of the drive in a relative silence that feels all too loud — not awkward per se but filled with a definite unspoken tension that has you hiding behind your hair, eyes trained to the ground because you don't know how you are supposed to look at Seokjin when it was just you and him.

Moments like this, not heightened by passion or under the watchful eyes of his family are rarities. You take a deep breath and try to savour the taste of geraniums which lingers in the air from the gardens and the closest thing to normal you have ever experienced around Seokjin.

Despite the the emotional distance Seokjin seems intent on keeping in place, every physical step seems to edge you closer to him, eyes trained to the way his shoes sidestep until you are practically shoulder to shoulder. Seokjin doesn't so much as look at you as he does so and you are content to think he is too deep in his own thoughts to notice the way your bodies cling to each other like magnets, until the tips of his fingers brush against your palm in a delicate touch that may have been perceived as intimate had he not ripped it away with a pained expression, like he touched an electric fence or something.

You have admit that you felt it too. The spark as they describe it in romance movies. It was more of a tingle really, warm and fuzzy as it fizzed all the way from your hand to a spot in your chest suspiciously close to your heart that was beating a little faster now as you imagine how it would feel if he took your hand in his.

Except he doesn't. And when you glance up at him he is no longer engaged with his own thoughts but rather staring at you with a questioning look, brows slightly furrowed, and embarrassment replaces the fuzz in your veins when you consider for a moment that perhaps he was reading your mind and the completely inappropriate thoughts for a fake bride to have for her fake husband along with it.

The flush that caresses your cheeks is nearly as vibrant as the rose bushes which line the drive, perfectly pruned and as beautiful beneath lantern light as they are in the day and a perfect reminder of your embarrassment as you create a relative distance between your body and his. That way you were sure you could keep your hands - and your thoughts - strictly to yourself.

Far too quickly you find yourself turning the corner onto the street where you always part ways, the stoney gravel evening out into the same boring old scuffed concrete that winds through the entire city, a clear indication that you were leaving behind the Paradise grounds and entering the not so pristine visual of reality.

Usually you were glad to be on your way, sick of talking about neck lines and lace types and the way your shoulders ached from nodding politely at people who got wine drunk on weekdays but tonight you feel like you could keep walking with Seokjin forever in this strange bubble of unspoken words.

But you know as soon as he stops dead beside you that the bubble has already burst, floating away just out of your grasp like the false reality you live at Paradise.

"I'll be going then." It's quiet out here, not a trace of the music from Jazz night at the bar or the laughter of couples crossing the plaza to their suites after a few too many Chardonnays. Seokjin opens his mouth and then closes it again while you fidget awkwardly. "Thanks for a good night."

The way you say it sounds like he took you on a real date, one that you were supposed to thank him for. It's too late by the time you realize that a boundary has been overstepped when Seokjin doesn't return the genuine smile you shoot him as you turn to leave.

"Wait!" The click of your shoes against the sidewalk halts at the serious husk in his tone, jarringly loud against the silence. "I need to ask you something."

His face is partially lit by the street lamp you find yourself beneath, casting half of his face in a golden glow that emphasizes the shadow of his lashes against his cheeks when he closes his eyes, as if to briefly collect his words.

Despite your better judgement, probably blinded by the normality you had fallen into, you press him further. "What is it?"

"Listen Y/N..." Seokjin scratches the back of his neck and you shift awkwardly in front of him, chest suddenly tightening with a niggling dread. "You haven't told anyone about us have you?"

"Us?" Your eyes widen. Since when did Seokjin start referring to you as a pair? You tilt your head quizzically. "I mean, your sister and your parents know —

"No, I mean the things that we...do in private." The summer evening suddenly turns chilly. Seokjin must notice when your face drops, the way you hug your arms to try and keep hold of the warmth that had practically singed each of your nerve endings just a moment ago.

"Things?" You splutter. "Is that all they are to you?"

You can't help it. The way Seokjin talks when you are intimate, the way he kissed you so desperately that day on the veranda -- it made it feel like those moments meant more to him. He was damn convincing - when he told you that he wanted you, you believed him - and you can't help but feel cheated.

Seokjin's brow simply furrows, flummoxed by your sudden outburst. "Yeah, I mean we had an agreement — isn't that all they are to you?"

An agreement.

The way he says it sounds like your relationship is strictly business. As if he's paying you for a service - which, in his own way, you suppose he is. Sure, you knew he wasn't really going to fall in love with you in the way he told his family he loved you but you thought he at least felt something — no, you were sure he had at the lake. Maybe you were just confusing pleasure with intimacy.

Still, the way his finger points at you accusingly makes a hot rage rise in your chest but you simply take a shaky breath and plaster the closest thing to a grin on your features as you can muster.

"Of course they are." The sweetness in your voice is a little too forced, but it goes unnoticed on Seokjin who lets out a sigh of relief. "None of this means anything. I know that."

"Good. Then we're on the same page..." He still looks slightly unconvinced - you can just make out the way he narrows his eyes doubtfully in the dim light - but he doesn't have time to press further before a black car rolls into the drive and he clasps your wrist to pull you across the paving and into the shadows. "Watch out!"

Seokjin suddenly yanks you closer to him, your chest nearly pressed up to his. You almost mumble a thanks, idiotic enough to think that his only motive is to prevent you getting flattened by a Mercedes Benz nearly invisible in the night if not for the crunch of tyres against gravel.

But then you feel his breath hitch when he catches a glimpse of your white kitchen uniform reflected in one of the tinted car windows, sending a salute towards the security guard in the drivers seat with fingers crossed behind his back, and you silently condemn yourself for thinking he cared about anything other than his reputation even for a second. You go numb.

You look between your bodies where your hand dangles limply in his grasp. Just a moment ago you were envisioning how it would feel for him to hold your hand in his, the way his skin brushed yours enough to give you shivers. Now it just made the hollow ache in your chest throb with a cold emptiness.

Seokjin strains his neck, only releasing you from his hold when the glow of headlights disappears around a corner and you are smothered by darkness again.

Seokjin's sigh of relief stings. The words never leave his lips but you can tell what he was thinking. Phew, now I don't have to explain why I, almighty Kim Seokjin, was conversing with a staff member after hours. Lucky escape!

A smile appears on his face, as if you were supposed to share his relief. "So, same time tomorrow?"

You feel yourself stagger away from him in shock. Seokjin is many things but you didn't think he was heartless. It's enough to send you over the edge.

"Clearly we are not on the same page." You spit. "Actually, you know what? No. I'm busy tomorrow."

Seokjin scoffs, running a hand through his hair. "Doing what?"

"I have things to do." Your emphasis on the word makes his eyes widen,

"Oh great!" He barely raised his voice before glances behind him warily, making sure there was no one around to see him getting heated. When he turns back his voice is nothing but a harsh whisper. "And what do you expect me to tell my family, huh?"

"Tell them that your fiancé to be had to go do the job they actually pay her to do." The way he laughs breathily makes your fists clench at your sides as you turn on your heels and stalk down the street before he can see the way your face reddens with a combination of hurt and anger, though not before you are calling over your shoulder despite knowing it would only fuel the fire. "Unless you're too embarrassed to tell them who I really am."

"You don't seem to mind when you're cashing in your favours." He calls after you, hands on hips with a bitterness lacing his voice that makes your heart twist painfully.

You hear the way your pulse quickens, the lump in your throat growing bigger and bigger as you stop dead. "What?"

"Y/N, I didn't mean that I —"

"So that's what this is? You are embarrassed of me?" Your voice raises incredulously. "Is that why you've been so weird with me since Taehyung almost recognised me at the lake? You're scared someone will snitch on you to your rich friends?"

"No, I--"

"No what, Jin?" You let out a hollow laugh. "I thought I meant more to you than that."

Seokjin pinches the bridge of his nose. "It's just you and I...we could never be anything more, you know that right? I don't want you to get the wrong idea. We don't come from the same background and it would be..." He pauses. "Inappropriate."

"It's too late, anyway. Forget I said anything." Tears streak your cheeks hotly and you hide behind your hair, determined to hide your weakness from him. "This was a mistake."

You start to walk away, but then you're running, as fast as you can away from Paradise and all the hurt. The sound of Seokjin's tennis shoes hitting the concrete picks up as he follows you down the path, calling your name, and for a moment you think he's going to comfort you. Tell you that he was sorry and that none of this was meaningless to him after all.

But he doesn't.

"I'll text you!" Is the last thing he calls before you disappear around the corner out of sight. You want to sneak a look over your shoulder, see him standing there at the end of the street beneath the street light.

Instead you resist, letting the bitterness pooling in your stomach rise up and burn your throat like bile. "Don't bother!"

Either he listened or he didn't mean it when he said he would text you.

The anger that ran hot through your bloodstream after your fight with Seokjin has faded to nothing but an indescribable emptiness and regret.

You haven't heard from him in three days. That is a long time where Seokjin is concerned and completely out of character.

Even on normal days, when you had a day off from pretending to be his fiancé, Seokjin would find a way to make you laugh by sending you a low angle selfie from the dinner table at one of his father's business conferences or a cheeky message to let you know he'd just seen you walk past the golf court wearing the red sundress that he liked.

You couldn't remember when Seokjin became a normal part of your day. Just like brushing your teeth or washing your hair, you had become almost expectant of a vibration against your thigh at work or the ping! of your ringtone before you went to sleep or even a heated make out behind the restaurant when you just couldn't wait any longer.

So when it all suddenly came to a stop, you were sure you were going crazy. All you were left with was a feeling of emptiness, as if something vital was missing.

It wasn't even as if he owed you anything, not really - it was true that the romance wasn't real and even the sex was just sex to him; but at some point you had to admit you had crossed some kind of invisible barrier. In between lying to his family, public "dates" flavoured by champagne and hanging off his forearm at celebratory cocktail parties, you and Seokjin had become friends.

(Sort of. If you ignored the parts where his lips made you lose your breath or the night's that ended with his head between your legs.)

So god forbid you expected something from him after your fight the other night. A sign that he cared, if even a little bit. An apology for the way he'd deliberately tried to hurt you.

That's how you find yourself checking your phone anxiously on your kitchen shift breaks, refreshing your inbox obsessively and trying to ignore the heaviness weighing down your chest with each passing hour without even so much as one of the cheesy emojis he used way too frequently to be ironic lighting up your screen.

He even stopped dropping by the restaurant under the guise of a casual lunch like he usually did. You found yourself on edge, breath fogging up the glass of the window with your disappointment every time you heard the door zip open and you rushed to greet him, only to be met with someone utterly not Kim Seokjin.

You thought you saw his broad figure dipping into one of the other restaurants across the plaza instead one afternoon as you left work and you couldn't help but wonder if he shamelessly flirted with the kitchen staff there, too.

It hurts knowing that it was so easy for him to cut you out of his life completely when he had become such a constant part of yours. It hurts knowing that he probably wasn't even thinking of you when he was the only thing on your mind.

And to make matters worse, it seems that the tight smiles and vacant nods you shoot Jimin as he divulges the latest and greatest Paradise gossip he overheard while serving at some fancy dinner party last night didn't do a good job at hiding the melancholy gloom which hangs over your head.

He's still talking as you swipe your cards to check out of work, charmingly holding the door ajar for you to slip outside the restaurant where you told Jungkook you'd wait for him to join you.

The air is cooler than expected against your face, the first time that summer where the sky is covered by splotches of grey cloud that refuse to let any blue peek through like an ugly patchwork quilt that mirrors your ugly mood.

"Y/N, didn't your hear me? Mr Kim's wife literally grabbed him by the balls and threw him out of the building when she caught him cheating with the waitress — wait, are you okay?"

Jimin is already half way down the limestone stairs, too caught up in his own dramatic storytelling to notice the way you stand rigid at the top. The phone in your palm is lit up with the same three words that have haunted you all day — NO NEW MESSAGES — but Jimin's question breaks your trance for a moment.

"Huh? No, I'm fine." You assure, slipping the device into your back pocket, swallowing thickly and mustering up a watery smile you hope will appease him before he can ask any more questions.

It doesn't work.

"You've been acting weird all day." Your legs feel wobbly as you close the distance between you, like the very foundations of your body are beginning to give in to the weight that has set up camp in your chest no matter how hard you try to ignore it.

"I have?" Jimin is peering at you with narrowed eyes, not malicious necessarily but inquisitive. They narrow further when you sigh shakily, averting your gaze to the shirtless gardener who mows the green lawns that spread out as far as the eye can see into perfect lines, counting the distant rose bushes as a distraction from the impending tears that have begun to well. "I don't want to talk about it."

Jimin throws an arm around your shoulder a little too roughly to be comforting, following your stagnant gaze. "Damn he's kinda cute." The lack of witty remark from you when he lands a jokey punch to your shoulder seems to finally perk Jimin's attention. "Tell me, are you and Mr Kim Seokjin having trouble in Paradise?"

Jimin lets out a snort at his own pun before he spots the sullen look on your face, covering his impending chuckle with a cough and releasing you from his grasp to sling his hands in his pockets awkwardly. "Oh shit, really?"

You simply sniff in response, allowing that to be confirmation enough, slumping down onto the grand staircase and letting your face fall into your hands.

Jimin plonks down beside you, sidling up until your knees touch, the simple act of comfort making the tears that had been threatening to emerge all day prick hotly at the corners of your eyes.

"I messed up, Jimin." Your voice is muffled by your palms but that doesn't mask the way it wavers slightly, Jimin's hand immediately rubbing soothing circles into your back. "I think he's mad at me."

"Why?"

"Because I basically told him that I kind of have feelings for him—"

"You did what?" Jimin grabs you by the elbow, alerting the atention of a guy in a velour tuxedo leaving the restaurant who gives the hot tears staining your cheeks a funny look. "Hold up, go back. You have feelings for Seokjin?"

Even with vision blurred by tears you can see the wide eyed expression on Jimin's face. You cross your arms in a pout. "Well you don't need to say it like that."

"Like what?"

"Like the idea is completely crazy or something."

Jimin runs an exasperated hand through his hair. "So you mean the truth?"

It isn't the way he says it so much as the realisation that he is right that stings. You bow your head, a few silent tears rolling down your cheeks until you can taste their saltiness. "I know, I know. I'm not good enough for a person like him, I was stupid—"

Jimin shakes his head gently, placing his palms firmly on both of your shoulders and forcing you to face him head on. "Listen up because I'm about to serve you a cup of piping hot real shit, okay?"

You wipe your nose noisily on your sleeve, giving him a curt nod. "Okay."

"The reason you and Seokjin will never work out has nothing to do with you so I won't accept any of that mopey shit." Jimin shakes you vigorously as if he is knocking some sense into you, and you offer him a tearful giggle. "Truth is, Seokjin can't see a good thing when he has it because there is no room in his rich ass heart for anything other than money and his reputation."

"But—"

"No buts!" Jimin shucks up his sleeves until they cover his hands like paws, using the fabric to dab away your tears, unphased by the growing damp spots on both of his cuffs. "The sooner you realise that Seokjin's issues are not your issues the better."

Your tears are dry now. You're pretty sure Jimin's pep talk ended your momentary wobble but your voice still sounds slightly hoarse when you speak. "It just felt like more when we...you know..." You wave your hands around wildly hoping Jimin will fill in the blank, which he does with a click of his tongue.

"Then you need to stop sleeping with him immediately."

"What?"

"You know what I think?" Jimin links his arm with yours, pulling you alongside him. "I think that you're confusing intimacy with actual feelings."

Maybe he's right. It's natural for emotions to be heightened when Seokjin is making you literally fall apart beneath him, probably for him too which would explain the intimate things he had said. Perhaps all this time you were just confusing loving the way he made you feel for loving...him. After all, you had always thought the regular Seokjin was kind of an asshat at times. Of course you didn't have feelings for him!

"You know what? I think you're right." Jimin raises his eyebrows in surprise, as if he was expecting you to be harder to win around. You slap a palm to your forehead. "I can't believe I actually thought I caught feelings for him for a second."

"Happens to the best of us." Jimin grins. "If I was getting dicked down by that beautiful god of a man then I'd want to have his babies too. Imagine how cute they'd be..."

"Jimin!" You smack him playfully before leaning across to rest your head on his shoulder, his chuckles vibrating against your cheek. "You just basically told me he's an asshole."

"And I stand by that!" He defends, letting his own cheek rest against your hair. "But you can't deny that he is fucking inhumanely gorgeous..."

"Are we talking about Kim Seokjin again?" A dry voice appears somewhere behind, making you jump and pause your laughter. A glance over your shoulder reveals none other than Jungkook, arms crossed and a sullen vibe emanating from the way his thick brows furrow so deeply they almost connect. Come to think of it, he always seems to be moody where Seokjin is involved. Huh.

"Why? Are you gonna try and tell me that he's not that buff again?" Jimin scoffed, stiffening ever so slightly beside you and refusing to even glance in Jungkook's direction.

"No, I just don't see why we have to always talk about him." Jungkook puffs, blowing his bangs out of his eyes bitterly. "Besides, I just saw him outside the kitchen and his body isn't that good. I'd hardly say 'sculpted'."

Huh? Seokjin? Outside the kitchen...

Neither of the boys seem to share your bewilderment, launching into a spat heavy with a tension that had been building long before. "And what would you know, anyway?"

"I go to the gym!" Jungkook flexes his arm, earning a scoff from Jimin to which he frowns. "Look!"

"You saw Seokjin where?" You breathe, butting into the squabble and drawing two startled looks when you jolt to your feet, wiping off the back of your leggings.

"O-outside the kitchen...why? I assumed he was waiting for you..." Jungkook is wide eyed, blinking with a lack of understanding considering his previous absence. Jimin has already wrapped his hand around your wrist to pin you in place.

"He is?" You nibble your lip.

You imagine him leaning up against the wall outside the kitchen, probably looking at his watch impatiently as he waits for your shift to finish. He never could wait for long so perhaps he'd even already left, storming off to go let his anger out in a game of extremely competitive table tennis with a retired CEO in the lounge.

But there's a chance he is still there and that he was waiting for you and even though every fibre of your being screams that it is a bad idea, you just want to see if it was true. If he really was thinking about you. If you'd misjudged him after all and a part of him did care.

"Y/N this is a bad idea." You're already bounding down the steps when Jimin tugs you back to offer a slice of reality. "Remember what we just talked about? Not catching feelings." He draws the last word out and wiggles his eyebrows which only makes Jungkook even more confused.

"It'll be fine Jimin," You brush him off though it sounds a little like you are pleading with him. Carefully dislodging your wrist from his grip, you plaster a reassuring smile to you face that doesn't seem to appease his anxious foot tapping. "I won't let him get inside my head. I'm not confused anymore, see?"

"Fine. Knock yourself out." Jimin steps back, gesturing for you to go forth which you do far too quickly for his liking, flashing him a thumbs up before turning your back and disappearing down the steps before he can protest any further. "But promise to call me immediately if you get horny feelings again!"

The way your heart thumps in your chest as you speed walk around the building has to be unhealthy.

You slow down as you get closer to the corner that obscures the back of the restaurant from view, taking cover behind a bush pruned into a perfect ball.

There he is.

Your breath hitches. It's almost as if your brain tricked you into believing he was a figment of your imagination these past few days without him. Like you made the whole thing up. But no, here he is and he's breathing and he has blood pumping through him just like you and he's so real that it hits you like a freight train.

For the first time this evening, the sun pokes it's head out from behind the clouds, a small crack opening up in the sky that sends a stream of soft golden light cascading across him. And almost as if in unison, it feels like the light shines right through the Seokjin shaped cracks in your heart as you watch his eyes flutter shut at the kiss of warmth and his arms reach above his head to lean into the light in a leisurely stretch.

It almost feels like you are seeing him for the first time all over again.

If Seokjin didn't let out a sigh of impatience in exactly the way you imagined he would, shaking his head and throwing his hands into the pockets of his gym shorts in defeat, you would have been content to just watch from the sidelines like you promised Jimin you would.

Perhaps you wouldn't have rushed out from behind your camouflage of foliage, sending a garden gnome flying in a crash of broken china in your haste. And even more importantly, perhaps you wouldn't have found yourself calling out for him to stop.

"Seokjin!" Your voice sounds small but the word flies out before you can slap your hand over your mouth to keep it in. It's familiar on your tongue, like coming back home after a long trip, and you savour the taste.

"Y/N?"

Seokjin stills at the crunch of your shoes approaching him tentatively, shoulders squared as if weighing up his options - fight or flight? - and just as you think you are mistaken and he didn't want to see you after all, he's taking flight - straight towards you and drawing you into his arms in an uncomfortably tight bear hug.

His chest hits yours with a force that makes you literally lose your breath, hairs on your arms rising as you feel his warmth encapsulate you completely like a comforting blanket.

The sudden embrace stuns you to a shocked silence, arms pressed to your sides stiffly as he buries his nose in your hair and takes a deep inhale. Is Kim Seokjin smelling your hair?

You have to admit the scent of his cologne makes you giddy, a little woodier around the edges than you remember it to be which you put down to the still slightly sticky and sweaty gym clothes hugging his torso. Under normal circumstances you would've been grossed out but the heightened thump of your heart in your ears acts as an ample distraction.

For a moment you forget about Paradise and the argument and the door to the kitchen beside you that could open at any moment. It's just you and him again, and you're melting.

You could stay like this forever, if his grip didn't tighten considerably, as if he was trying to squeeze the breath straight out of you and hold that too, and you are pushing his chest away from your body with a cough. "Jin — can't breathe!"

Seokjin lets you go — reluctantly, settling for holding you at arms length instead — and you are sure you spot his neck flush at the nickname you used accidentally.

"Sorry." His gaze dips to your feet and then drags all the way back to your puzzled eyes as if he is taking all of you in, like you had changed since he last saw you or something as if that wasn't just three days before. A lazy smile appears on his face. "Missed you, that's all."

His words are slightly breathless and punctuated by a shake of his head as if he can't quite believe he's saying them either and the honesty is so unlike him it makes your chest ache.

"Then why didn't you call?" There's a snipe in your words that seems to jolt him out of his sunny disposition, mouth downturning into a frown, arms dropping from your shoulders and going limp at his sides instead as if he is coming to his senses. "You're the one that's been avoiding me."

His shoulders droop awkwardly. "I'm sorry."

"It just didn't make sense why you would stop talking to me—."

"No, not for avoiding you — well I am sorry for that," He explains. "I mean for the things I said. The other night."

You furrow your brows, stunned. "Why?"

"It was mean and...truthfully I couldn't face you because of it." He drags a hand down his face and presses his back to the wall in defeat, giving you a perfect view of the regret that makes his jaw tighten.

With a sigh you sidle up next to him, careful to leave enough space between you so that your arms don't touch. Deja vu masks the ordeal and you realise it's all too similar to the first time you met in this very spot, watching the very same plaza except today it's still bustling with life beneath the orange glow of the setting sun and you have to squint to see it clearly.

You clear your throat. "I thought it was because of the things I said. About us."

"No!" His exclamation is a little too quick, too loud, and he looks embarrassed, following it up with a gruff "Don't be stupid."

"Well don't worry. While you've been avoiding me I've had plenty of time to think it over and you were right after all."

His nose scrunches, a habit of his you've noticed before that gives him an air of innocence. "I was?"

"Yeah, I think I must have had a few too many glasses of champagne at dinner that night." Your laugh is hoarse with the effort it takes to force it past your lips. "I'm happy with our agreement how it is. You don't need to worry about me going all crazy on you again."

"That's...good." His adam's apple bobs. He seems unconvinced by his own words. "Good. I'm glad."

Then he smiles and your heart throbs so hard it could explode so you just smile back and join in with his nervous laughter.

"So we're okay?"

"We're okay."

There's nothing left to say; now it's clear where you both stand. So why is Seokjin opening and closing his mouth like a goldfish?

"Is that all you came here to talk about?"

His laughter stops, and then he coughs and puffs out his chest, returning somewhat to the cocky Seokjin you are used to.

"Actually I was thinking...it's getting kind of late. It would be bad mannered of me to let you walk home alone."

"Why? I always walk home alone?" Seokjin never seemed to possess the worry you can see in eyes before when he dropped you off outside the club and watched you disappear into the night multiple times a week.

"For protection. Just in case." He rolls his eyes, as if it should have been obvious.

"It's okay, I've got pepper spray in my bag plus it's like 5 PM—"

"No. Protection for me." He suddenly pleads. "My mind will start to wander if I go back to my apartment alone again."

Seokjin seems so serious you know you can't reject him now without your conscience taking a beating, so you choose to say nothing at all. You want to be there for him, but at the same time you know you're only going to get hurt. The toe of your shoe draws circles in the dirt. "I don't know what to say."

"How about you don't say anything and just come to my place instead?" Your neck snaps up. He's never invited you to his place before. It always seemed like an inappropriate boundary to cross considering you are hardly even friends let alone lovers. "That way we both win."

You smile and he seems relieved. "I guess, just for a little bit."

"Great! Think of this as you doing a favour for me."

"Again?" You roll your eyes teasingly.

"I repay you don't I?" He sees your face fall. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that—"

"I know." You butt in. "It's fine. Really."

A silence falls in the same way it did the night you fought and it seems neither of you know what to say next. Truthfully you're just glad he doesn't seem mad at you, his quiet company a familiarity that tells you nothing has changed between you.

That is until he leans in a little too close and his fingers brush your wrist. You swallow thickly and wait for him to push you away again, when you feel him hesitate.

This is supposed to be the part where he pushes you away again, looking at his hand in disgust or wiping it on the back of his pants like he touched something dirty.

Instead, he reaches between you to link his fingers carefully with yours. It's like you are suddenly filled with helium, at risk of floating away if the feeling of Seokjin's warmth beside you wasn't there holding you to the ground.

"Is this okay?" You ask with wide eyes, nodding down at where his slightly clammy palm smothers your own.

He nods. You melt.

"You were right, the other day." Seokjin squeezes your hand comfortingly. "I need to stop hiding how I really feel."

You've never been to the residents part of the resort before. You never dared. But truthfully, by the time you realise you are walking not floating, you are already half way across the plaza.

Seokjin guides you around the circular fountain spitting water from the mouth of a cherub, carried by the breeze as a fine mist that feels cold and refreshing against your hot cheeks and marches you up a marble staircase to the resident lodge which rises up out of the ground like a beautiful half moon of white brick, stylish balconies decked with jacuzzis, chiffon curtains and a sea of people who fit Seokjin's class perfectly.

A tired looking doorman stands posted to the entrance and despite feeling Seokjin stiffen beside you, he never lets go of your hand. Not even when the doorman gives you a once over, an eyebrow raising at your casual attire.

You wait for Seokjin to force the doorman to sign an oath of secrecy when his eyes widen at your interlinked fingers, except the moment never comes. He simply rubs his thumb across your knuckles soothingly, striding straight past the doorman and holding the gilded door open for you to slip through himself.

You mumble a thanks, letting out a breath you didn't know you were holding and hope Seokjin can't feel the way your heart thumps against your rib cage uncontrollably. For what reason you can't quite decide — is it because you're conditioned to fear getting caught with Seokjin or because he doesn't seem to care?

Seokjin doesn't let go of you until he has to press the elevator button, and it feels ten degrees colder when he does. Your curious eyes take in the perfumed lobby, grand staircase winding upwards as far as the eye can see, lined with a carpet that's intricately embroidered with gold thread. Paintings line the walls which makes the place feel like some sort of museum and you half expect someone to ask you for an entry fee.

Then the elevator's ornate doors open with a ping you thought only existed in movies and Seokjin's hand is back and shuffling you into the elevator at the small of your back, refusing to leave even once you are inside.

The elevator is lined with polished mirrors and you do a double take when you make eye contact with your reflection, nearly reaching out and tapping the glass to check they are real and not the kind you find at a carnival that make everything look distorted. The way Seokjin pulls you closer to his side makes you look like any one of the other normal couples who frequent the resort, if you ignore the way your baggy cardigan contrasts his head to toe designer outfit.

Seokjin's too busy humming along to the classical music which crackles through the speakers overhead to notice the way your gaze travels to him. You know he wants to make you think that none of this affects him like it does you and his unbothered attitude would have worked had you not noticed the way his cheeks have a pinkish tinge, even in the dim yellow glow of the elevator.

The elevator opens, and you follow him down the hall only to find out Seokjin lives in one of the penthouses. You shouldn't be surprised but when he swipes a shiny key card and the lock beeps with a little green light that tells you the door is unlocked, you can't help the way your mouth gapes. Almost as if you were expecting it to flash red instead, denying you entrance and reminding you that you didn't belong in a place like this.

"Aren't you coming inside?" Seokjin has already crossed the threshold, wiping his polished shoes on the gaudy WELCOME mat inside while you stand awkwardly in the hallway, peeping through the crack of open door. You suddenly feel self conscious in your cardigan and leggings, as if you should've dressed up or something.

Seokjin seems to sense your hesitation, fingers finding your wrist with a smile. "You'll catch a cold out there."

He tugs and you don't resist, letting your feet follow him inside. "It's summer. And we're inside, Jin."

"Well how would I live with myself if I took the risk?" The click of the door locking echos from the high ceiling and you swallow thickly knowing there's no going back.

Inside, the suite looks like a luxury hotel room, like every last penny from the royal Mint had lived and died there.

It's open plan, the grand chandelier glimmering in the evening sun casting miniature rainbows across a living room consisting of pristinely white sofas sporting an array of throw cushions that look as though they have never been moved, collecting dust in the same way as the open magazine on the marble coffee table and the empty coffee mug beside it that look like they were placed there to create the illusion of the space being lived in.

Everything feels a little too pristine, a little too perfect like it materialised straight out of a furniture magazine.

The far wall is entirely glass, floor to ceiling windows looking out over a view of the entire resort; with a squint you can just make out the soft lights of the restaurant you know well, reflection shimmering like gold dust on the surface of the undisturbed public pool. An array of caddy boys on the golf courts collect stray balls and haul clubs back into the lodge and beyond that the vibrant gardens, a blur of pink roses and green hedges from where you stand but still a pleasant sight against the evenings pale blue sky.

Seokjin hums to himself as he flicks on all the lights, disappearing around a corner until you can't hear the click clack of his shoes against the tile anymore. You don't know if you are supposed to stay with knees knocking in the living room or if he was expecting you to follow him; but you presume the latter is true when his voice rings out into the room, jolting you from your shameless study of his living space.

"Have you eaten?" You shake your head in a silent no even though he can't see it, somehow managing to get your legs to carry you beneath a decorative arch and into the kitchen where Seokjin stands with his head ducked into a fancy looking fridge - even the most basic of appliances seem high tech, a touch pad visible on the front for what purpose you don't want to even ask. "I don't know about you but I'm famished."

"I was on my way to find something to eat when we — when you saw me, actually." The correction is quick but it makes your stomach feel funny. Since when did it start to feel normal to refer to you and Seokjin as a "we", as if you are anything but his accessory?

"Perfect." He emerges from the fridge with an armful of tupperware boxes balanced beneath his chin, foot kicking the door shut before he dumps the entire load onto the marble kitchen island that separates you from him.

"How about you stay for dinner?" He flashes you a small smile, corner of his mouth blowing the bangs out of his eyes, and your heart practically skips a beat.

It's just a formality surely, the polite thing to do. The Seokjin you knew was usually eager to get you out of his hair.

He is looking at you expectantly, your throat suddenly dry as you try to muster a response, an excuse. The word that immediately crosses your mind is no. This is dangerous and you know it. But then the bite in your stomach is back and despite knowing an I shouldn't be here in the first place would have been more appropriate, your lips betray you with a simple, "Yes." And the way that Seokjin's face lights up in surprise has every regret falling away as you relish in the knowledge that he is actually happy to have you.

"I thought I would have to bargain with you. You're usually stubborn with me." Shiny bar stools sit tucked beneath the little kitchen bar set up beside him, a few expensive looking champagne bottles littered across the surface. He pats one of the plush cushions in a gesture for you to sit which you graciously do, even as you scoff at his words and silently wonder why someone who lives alone needs so many seats.

"Because you're usually trying to get me to do something ridiculous." You chide. "And besides, I'm hungry."

"So you're just using me for my cooking skills, huh? I didn't think you were that kind of girl." Seokjin eyes you cheekily, hands fiddling with the dials on the stove with a pout. "How do you turn this thing on?"

You let out a sigh of mock despair, joining him at the counter and turning the knob until you hear a familiar click as the gas ignites, basking the kitchen in a blue glow. "If your 'skills' end with me getting food poisoning I'll never forgive you Kim Seokjin".

"I think I can handle a simple pasta dish," He retorts, but not before sending a pot from the utensil rack crashing to the ground with a clatter. "Maybe I spoke too soon." He picks up the appliance, holding it out to you sheepishly, a flush caressing his cheeks now.

You click your tongue but in no way maliciously, instinctively filling the pot with water and pulling open a few drawers in search of some other equipment. "Where do you keep the spoons?"

"Top drawer." You hear him call, settling himself into the askew stool you previously occupied, kicking his feet up onto the opposite stool and making you internally wince when the soles of his shoes settle on the white leather cushion. "Can I ask you something?"

Something in his voice changes, a seriousness that you aren't used to with him. In fact the only time you'd ever heard it was last week on the lake, when he admitted he felt like an outsider at Paradise.

You dump the pasta and lean against the counter to face him. "Sure."

"Do you think I'm an asshole?" He asks quietly.

You pause. "Sometimes." Eyes narrowed, you let out a sigh. "Why?"

"I'm sorry." Seokjin sounds small, and he wrings his hands together awkwardly. "For making you do all this for me, and then acting like a douche."

You push his feet off the stool and take a seat opposite him. Your mouth is dry, so you say nothing. He looks at you expectantly. Like he's hoping his apology will make up for the stinging hurt that still lingers in your chest every time you remember the look of shame in his eyes when he almost got caught talking to you at the gates. You flash him a sad smile, and he sighs when he realises it's not enough.

"God, I'm so fucking lame. What normal guy has to get a girl to pretend to be his fucking fiance?"

"What normal girl agrees to pretend? If you're lame then I'm just as bad." You chuckle, somewhat bitterly. "If you're so embarrassed by me, why don't you just tell your family? Then you won't have to worry someone will find out who I really am."

There's a sharpness to your words that makes Seokjin wince.

"It's not that I'm embarrassed of you! I'm...embarrassed of me." Seokjin rushes. "I just can't tell them. It would break them if they knew we've been lying."

Oh. So all this time he wasn't afraid someone would find out your real identity...he was just worried about disappointing his family?

"I always knew I was going to marry some nice girl from upstate and take over Paradise one day," He continues. "But now it's actually happening and I'm realizing I'm not cut out for this."

His head falls into his palms, forehead creased. You can tell this has been weighing on his mind for a while, and part of you feels thrilled that he trusts you enough to confide in you.

"I want to be the man they want me to be but I don't know how much longer I can pretend."

You slide your hand over the counter and cover his. He looks up, surprised, when you give it a comforting squeeze.

"I think you're just scared." You whisper. "I know you Seokjin, and you'll be an incredible CEO."

He puffs out his chest. "Pfft, I'm not scared."

"You're scared you won't be as good of an owner as your dad." You say. "And you're scared that you won't love the girl who you marry like you're supposed to."

Seokjin falls quiet, like what you said hit a nerve. He frowns. "I know what it's like to love someone. And those other girls -- the ones my parent's tried to set me up with -- they were nice and all but... I didn't feel it with any of them."

"You can't force love." You offer him a sympathetic smile. "Sometimes it just pops up in the strangest of places. It just happens."

"You're right." He smiles back, and shakes his shoulders like a weight has been lifted. His eyes soften fondly. "Hey. How do you always seem to know exactly what to say?"

"One of my many talents,"You laugh as you instinctively start to dish up your meal. That's what working in a kitchen does to you. "Including making incredible pasta."

The smell of carbonara wafts through the kitchen, and he rubs his stomach gratefully.

"God I love you." Seokjin says breathily, threading his hands through his hair and looking at you in wonder.

"What?" You go slack, the metal spoon between your fingers hitting the ground with a tinny crash.

Seokjin blinks twice before rushing to cover up his mistake. "You know what I mean."

You do know. But a part of you wishes that you didn't know, that you could pretend that the words that spilled from Seokjin's lips were real and true and meant something.

Not that it matters anyway. You aren't in love. You are just pretending to be. So why does it feel like a ton of bricks smushed your heart when you realise this was probably the only time you would ever hear him say those words, even if he didn't mean them how you wished he would?

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth before it can start to wobble and bend to your knees to retrieve the spoon. Seokjin is already ahead of you, leaping out of his chair to grasp the metal at the exact same time.

A gasp passes your lips when his hand covers yours tightly, the contact accidental but enough to send tingles up your spine like it always does. Except this time, it seems he feels it too, because when you dare to look up he is staring at your almost interlocked hands in wonder.

"Is now a bad time to repay one of your favours?" His voice is hoarse.

"What—"

Seokjin's fingers hook beneath your chin, tilting your head towards him so that he can press his lips against yours in a tentative kiss, swallowing your words in transit.

The kiss is slow and languid, the way he slots his plump bottom lip between yours making you melt instantly. His cheeks are warm and soft in your hands as you cup them, the action feeling just as natural as the warmth blossoming in your chest when Seokjin moves his mouth in time with your own with an impossible tenderness.

He sighs into your mouth like he'd been waiting forever to do this, and you feel a similar satisfaction, finally able to curb the craving for him that has been aching inside you since your last encounter when he left you standing alone on the veranda.

Seokjin's fingers trace up your arms tentatively, hairs raising wherever they touch, before tangling them in the hair at the base of your neck and pulling you ever deeper into the kiss, not just with pure desire like you were used to but with a yearning to hold you closer. For the first time you let yourself succumb to your senses, protective guard over your heart shattering as you get lost in the scent of his woody cologne and the roughness of his simultaneously pillowy lips.

By the time he pulls back you are already breathless and he is too, lips parted slightly, breath tickling your nose.

"Sorry." The curve of his lips tells you he didn't mean it. He wanted to kiss you. You melt. "'S cause I missed you, that's all"

"C'mere." With a breathy laugh you pull him closer to you again by the collar, mouths crashing together in a tangle of teeth and tongue this time that makes you burn with a hunger to commit every caress of his lips to memory, blood running hot as he tugs your bottom lip between his teeth like he wants to devour you right then and there. "I want you."

His hands search your body making you shudder, swell of your chest pressed to his as he slips his burning hot palms beneath your thighs to hoist you onto the kitchen island, uncaring when the spice rack rattles precariously. His lips never leave yours, tongue sweeping into your mouth in a way that has you panting for more, suddenly desperate to feel his warmth against you without the damn barrier of your leggings between you.

"Wanna take you right here so bad." Seokjin breaks away, eyes glazed over and slipping from your swollen lips momentarily to take in your quivering body, slotting himself between your welcoming legs. "God, you drive me crazy."

His hair tickles your cheek when he lets his face fall into the crook of your neck as if accepting defeat, his self control hanging by a thread in the same way as yours.

"Then take me." It's hushed whisper but it makes Seokjin groan, his hands rubbing flat circles into the tops of your thighs but never getting quite close enough to the ache that pulses between your legs, as though he can't trust himself.

"Don't want you to do something you'll regret." Seokjin sounds pained as he nips at your neck, lips sucking marks into the flesh obscenely while his tongue soothes the burn, your eyes squeezing shut at the sensation.

"I could never regret you." You stammer between quiet whimpers when his teeth attack the sensitive spot behind your ear and in that moment you believe every word. "I promise."

Seokjin leaves one last wet kiss to your jaw. "Open your eyes. Look at me." His hands tremble when they take your face between them and hold your already damp forehead against his. You obey, biting your lip when his own lustful eyes stare into yours with a gentleness. "Promise. You want this — me?"

Your heart throbs. "I promise."

"Then how could I refuse?" With a peck to your lips Seokjin hoists you over his shoulder like you are weightless, blood rushing to your head as you come face to face with his butt.

"Let me down!" You laughed as he carries you through the apartment, pounding your fists against his back playfully. He only tightens his grip, landing a sharp smack to your ass that has you quieting down quickly. "Ow!"

"Don't pretend you didn't like it." His voice is muffled as he lets you down but you can still hear his smirk before he even comes into view. Your back lands on top of a plush mattress, silken sheets a welcome cold against your skin which still burns from Seokjin's touch. You manage to glance around the room briefly, taking in the elegant matching silk drapes and the luxe gold trimmed furniture which makes it feel like a hotel room you probably could not afford.

But then Seokjin is hovering over you again and the way his eyes darken as they rake across your body captures all your attention.

"I wouldn't mind if you did it again." You hum coyly, enjoying the way his pupils dilate as he swallows a groan. Seokjin grips your ankles and lands another slap to the flesh of your ass that has you panting and choking on your own smirk.

"Such a slut, hm?" Your knees fall apart instinctively as he leans over your body, leaving a few lingering kisses across the expanse of your chest that peeks out of the top of your tank top, all while your fingers find the hem of his gym t-shirt. "God I love your ass."

"I'll fuck it myself if you don't hurry up." The way your hips buck up give away your impatience, never quite meeting the painfully visible tent in his crotch and gaining the friction you so desperately search for. Your panties are soaked through and clinging uncomfortably to your dripping folds by now, the heat between your legs pulsing unbearably.

Seokjin chokes at your threat, eyes rolling back as he pictures the image you painted. "F-fuck, I'd love to but maybe another time." Your lithe fingers manage to get his shirt over his shoulders, throwing the garment somewhere behind him and sucking in a gasp when you take in Seokjin's naked torso beneath the warm glow of his bedside lamp, toned and slightly damp with anticipation. "Gotta take care of this cunt first, hm?"

His palm cups your mound obscenely through your leggings and you whine at the first contact you'd received all night, eager to have him touch you without the barrier of your clothing. "P-please." The way you twist your hips needily, trying to grind your throbbing clit against the heel of his palm makes him laugh lightly.

"Sit back, get comfy." He helps you slide up the bed, arranging a selection of tasseled throw cushions behind your head until he's satisfied you are adequately supported, kneeling between your legs to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and press a prolonged peck to your parted lips. "Want this to be good for you."

"It's always good for me." You assure, fingers trailing fleetingly down his chest and feeling him tense above you at the ticklish contact. Seokjin makes quick work of your top, leaving you quickly in just your bra which you graciously save him the trouble of undoing by snapping the clasp open yourself.

The way he gazes in awe at your bare chest makes you self conscious, hands coming to cover the flush that caresses your face until he rolls one of your hardened nipples and lets out a sigh in unison with your own when your hands fall away, unable to focus on anything other than the tingle of Seokjin's touch and your own shallow pants.

"You're so pretty." His words make your chest blossom with warmth and you arch into his touch, air cold against your hard buds until Seokjin takes one of them into the heat of his mouth and reduces you to a gasping mess beneath him.

As soon as he comes up for air you manage to wriggle your hands between your flush bodies, latching on to the waistband of his gym shorts and sliding them down his thighs along with his boxers as soon as you catch his nod of confirmation.

His cock springs free, hard and already leaking against his stomach. Seokjin hisses at the cold air against his length. You wrap your hand around his girth, lidded gaze watching the way his face twists with a pleasurable agony with each flick of your wrist. He's hot and heavy in your palm, impossibly hard and your entrance clenches when his cock pulses against your palm, forcing him to swallow a moan and stop his hips from thrusting into your hand. You are suddenly hyper aware of how empty you are, another bout of lust pooling in your stomach as you anticipate how good he would fill you up, length enough to stretch you out perfectly.

When your palm twists around the angry reddened tip he just about looses his mind, falling forward to grip your shoulder with a bruising grip, uncaring when a few choked groans spill into your ear. You take pride in the way he falls apart so easily until his large palm covers yours and halts your ministrations all together.

"Stop, fuck—" He squeezes his eyes shut, letting out a hiss as he tries to regain his control, length twitching and drooling against your bare stomach. "Nearly came, shit." Seokjin's chest heaves with laboured breaths, cheeks flushed as he grips the base of his length firmly.

"I'm that good huh?" The teasing tone makes his eyes snap up, the scarlet tint to his cheeks deepening.

"No — I mean yes — but mostly I've been imagining this for a while." He seems slightly sheepish and you find it cute, feeling a little pang in your heart when his nose scrunches with shyness at his confession. "Got too worked up too fast."

"Guess you don't want me to suck you off for a bit, then?" You ask almost hopefully, your heat growing ever wetter at the thought of his girth fucking your throat mercilessly.

"There's plenty of time for that, princess." The glint in his eye is the same as the one he had that day in the locker rooms, except this time you trust his words knowing that nothing could stop you coming back for more.

"Guess I'll have to save my skills for another day, then." Seokjin chuckles at the pout that graces your lips, swatting your hand away before it could stroke his length again. "Unless..."

"Brat." The shake of his head is affectionate.

"Don't pretend you don't like it." You echoe his earlier words and he rolls his eyes to your amusement.

"Touché."

He holds your gaze for a little too long, the way his eyes soften at the edges and his lips part cutely too intimate for you to deal with in the moment so you focus on the neglected ache between your legs instead.

You interrupt the moment before you let a piece of your heart flutter straight into his hands. "Hurry up and get inside me, idiot!"

"Okay, okay jeez!" Seokjin raises his hands defensively before he shuffles down the bed, eye level with your crotch.

You can't help the way you arch off the bed as he peels away your leggings, whining shamelessly when your swollen folds finally hit the air.

Soon enough you feel Seokjin's hot breath hovering over your slit, making your clit pulse even more desperately if that were possible. Before he could devour your heat like you wanted him to, you are reminded of his own self control. "'S not fair, is it?" You slur, head spinning with lust as he spreads your lips with his fingers, taking you in completely.

"Not going to eat you out this time, don't worry," The sight of him looking up at you with pleading eyes from between your legs, lips inches away from your clit, is enough to have the coil in your stomach tightening, sure you could cum just from the visual alone. "Just a taste?"

You nod, too breathless to speak, and he runs a flat stripe up your dripping slit, the contact enough to make your legs shake and your head fall back against the cushions. He places a single kiss to your clit which makes you quiver before he climbs back up so you are eye level. "Can't get enough of your pussy," Your breath mingles, his lips glistening with your arousal just inches from yours. "Could taste you forever."

"You can." You whisper.

His tongue traces your bottom lip languidly. You can taste yourself just barely on his lips. "I don't deserve you."

Seokjin supports himself on his forearms, hovering over your body and taking his cock in his palm to line it up with your entrance.

"Ready?" He scans your face for any concerns, any suggestion that you are having second thoughts. Even your small smile and the shameless twists of your hips as you tried to impale yourself on his cock wasn't enough to appease him, apparently. "Promise?"

The tenderness in his voice makes you lose your breath in a mixture of shock and warmth. This has to be a dream. "Promise."

Seokjin's lidded eyes light up and he finds your hand where it tugs on the sheets beside your bodies and carefully interlinks your fingers. The callouses on his fingers, the grooves of his palm and how it slots perfectly into yours is starting to feel familiar. You don't have time to dwell on whether the action was supposed to feel as romantic as it did before he's pushing the tip of his cock against your entrance which clenches with every inch until he bottoms out with a guttural groan of his own.

The slide is slow and languorous, allowing you to feel every ridge of his cock drag against your walls, the stretch burning a little as you tried to accommodate his girth.

"So fucking wet for me, huh?" It's true; you can feel your arousal dripping down your ass, his hips meeting yours with an audible squelch that was testament of his affect on you. You feel his cock twitch inside you, his nose scrunching as he resists slamming into you straight away to allow you to adjust. Instead he focuses on rubbing soothing circles with his thumbs into your hips, taking in your bare form with a fascination. "So fucking pretty underneath me like this."

"All for you." You manage to stutter between hard pants as he snaps his hips back until just the head of his cock remains at your entrance and you whine with the impossible emptiness. "I'm all yours."

"Promise me." It comes out as a command but it's tainted with a softness that makes your cheeks burn with more than just lust.

"I promise. I'm all yours."

That's all it takes to have him slamming back into you, hips meeting yours repeatedly with a loud slap which is almost drowned out by the soft moans that spill from his lips into the crook of your neck. He's more vocal than you were expecting and it drives you crazy.

"Fuck, I'm close." His breath hitches at your words, tongue snaking out to wet his lips as he shudders closer to his high. With a pained expression he pauses mid thrust, head barely inside you as he searches your face for answers with desperate eyes. "Where can I—"

"Inside me." You buck your hips, whimpering when he slides back into you to the hilt as if he can't help it. "Wanna feel you fill me up."

"Shit, okay." He stutters as your fingers move the bangs stuck to his sweaty forehead, his neck and shoulders glistening slightly in the deep glow of the room. "God, you're so tight."

By now you are clenching around him wildly, the heat between your legs getting hotter with every drag of his cock against your velvety walls. With his next thrust he hits your sweet spot deliciously, the mewl that leaves you alerting him of the fact and he watches with a dark amusement as your eyes roll back and you lose yourself to the feeling.

"Mmf — g-gonna cum." Seokjin's thumb rubs circles into your throbbing clit in time with his thrusts and the pressure is enough to have you falling over the edge, vision fading to black as Seokjin fucks you through your high.

"That's it, cum for me baby," He coaxes, thrusts turning sloppy as you feel him release inside you, the feeling of him coating your now sensitive walls almost too much. "S-shit."

You don't realise your eyes are squeezed shut until Seokjin's palm cups your chin, his face a picture of pure bliss when your lashes finally flutter open. There's barely any distance between your noses, his breath lightly tickling your parted lips and you're sure he can hear your heart thumping against your rib cage, loud in your ears as he closes the distance between you in a lazy kiss that feels indescribably intimate with him softening inside you.

"I don't deserve you." He says again, voice croaky this time. "You could do better than me."

"Shut up," His cheek presses to your chest, warm against your clammy skin. "Don't be silly."

"There's something I need to tell you..." He begins, cut off when you sit upright abruptly, eyes wide. "It's nothing bad. Well, it might be depends on how you respond. It's just that day on the lake, when I saw how Taehyung looked at you, and when I thought I lost you, it made me realise that I'm—"

"No, not that." You begin feeling around for your underwear. "I think the pasta boiled over!"

"Oh shit!" He joins your search for clothes, rolling onto his back beside you, though you don't miss the frown that appeared on his face. "Guess I can wait a little longer."

#bts smut #bts #seokjin smut #ksmutclub #smutcentralnet #seokjin fluff #seokjin imagine #seokjin fanfic #bts fanfic #btswriterscollective #btsguild #kwordsmiths #bangtanarmynet #thebtsclub #my writing #fic: better with you

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fakeloveaskblog · 3 years

Note

Janus, you know Remy didn't mean that. Logan loves you very much and if you called him he'd tell you so himself. I, in fact, recommend you give him a call after this is over, for emotional support if not anything else.

I'd rather both of you go after Remy actually, both Rowan and Janus. But honestly, leaving Remus alone isn't really something that I'd want to do right now either, so. Maybe it'd go better if both of you went after them, but I think it's better for Rowan to stay with her brother.

To surmise: Janus? You go after them. And no matter what they say please try to remember that they're lashing out and they don't mean it, ok?

(Mentions of U!Virgil)

Janus' nervously bit on his nails. He didn't say anything but he couldn't help but think about what if they did mean it, someday, after he'd said something far too stupid. What if they looked at him with enough anger to fill the entire room and really meant it.

'im not a bomb. i wont exploe and destroy the apartmnt if im left alone for five minues' Remus wrote into the app with shaky hands. Tears made his eyes blurry.

"Last time I left you alone while you were.....having an episode I got back to you nearly stabbing a knife into your stomach you hog goblin" Rowan muttered while aggressively hugging him. He closed his eyes and covered his ears to try and keep all the sharp sensations out as he leaned into the hug.

"I...I should go after them" Janus said, his voice weak, as he stood up.

Rowan looked up at him. She tried to send a reassuring smile "Hey at least we know- we're quite sure something bad is going on. Then we can help them before-” She glanced at her brother “before it gets even worse"

"...Sure"

Janus pulled on a jacket and took Remy’s left behind cane before going out into the hallway. He reminded himself he could go over to Logan and cuddle all night long the moment this all was sorted out as he went down the stairs.

A cold wind hit him as soon as he stepped out of the apartment complex. The sky had just about started to darken. The light shining from the windows of the surrounding houses illuminated the sidewalk like a yellow tinted night sky.

He went out into the street and looked around for any trace of Remy. His eyes darted all over the finely trimmed grass and pristinely maintained streets until he caught glimpse of a figure walking away.

Janus hadn’t ran as fast as this since high school gym class while being yelled at by his teacher but now he sure fucking did. It felt like his lungs were burning. He wouldn’t risk letting them leave thinking he was mad at them.

Remy flinched when Janus suddenly stopped next to them. After a moment of surprise they kept walking though. They looked away from him and took another blow from their cigarette to make it glaringly obvious they were ignoring him.

“Re-” Janus stopped to pant which turned into a wheeze. He sounded like a dying seagull “Remy please if you could just give me a moment”

“Suuuure gal. Tots looking forward to listening to you berate my boyfriend again”

“You forgot your cane”

They were completely caught off guard “Huh?”

Janus held it out to them “Here, you forgot your cane at the apartment” It was barely holding itself together “Oh right” He quickly tried to move the tape so it held together better before reaching it out again “I wouldn’t want you to be in any more pain”

“It- it’s fine. I can like clearly walk without it. I’m not feeling anything”

They had that slightly glazed over look in their eyes they always had when they had to actively zone out from their body to manage the pain. The smoke from their cigarette got mixed with the fog leaving their mouth from how cold it was. Their legs were shaking from the winds and the pain even if they tried to hide it.

“You can borrow my jacket as well if you’d like. Excuse the scales stuck in it, it was from my werewolf like transformation which I of course have every month”

Remy forced themself to not laugh. They rolled their eyes before grabbing their cane from his hands “Better than not having it I guess” They motioned for waving him away “You can go now”

“Actually I put a handcuff on both of our wrists and threw away the key while you were talking so I can’t leave” Janus replied “It’s invisible but not to the laws of physics”

They blew some of the cigarette smoke into his face before walking away. Janus coughed but still tried to keep up with them. He had to half run to not get left behind.

“How come you can suddenly walk fast” He mumbled.

“You’re so annoying” They spat back.

“Indeed, that’s how I’m still friends with Remus. Mutual annoyance!” Janus did his best to not let it get to him. They were just lashing out he reminded himself.

“At least Remus isn’t in some made up conspiracy with his stupid fucking boyfriend”

“I do believe it would be quite hard for him to be since he doesn’t have a boyfriend”

Remy suddenly stopped. They turned towards him and threw their arms out “You can just yell at me okay?! Like I get I was rude so just get it over with instead of trying to make me like think you won’t yell at me!”

Janus stopped as well. A cold feeling filled his chest “Remy I’m not going to yell at you”

“Very funny girl. Not the best time to be sarcastic but sure” They said it in kind of a bitchy tone but their shoulders slumped down and their body tensed to prepare for the berating.

“I’m not lying” He moved closer but they instantly flinched away “I would never want to intentionally hurt you, that includes yelling at you. And if I ever accidentally hurt you, which I fear I already have, I would actually appreciate if you told me so instead of just assuming I will hurt you”

“You should” They stared into his eyes as they said it. Their hands had moved into shaky fists.

“I should throw this jacket around you before you catch a cold you shaking stick”

Janus did a horrible attempt at throwing the jacket. It landed right on top of Remy’s head as if they were a coat hanger.

“Oh- oh sorry”

Jan awkwardly moved forward to snatch the jacket away but Remy threw it away before he could. It landed on the cold grass.

“Not a thrower huh” Remy muttered while getting ready to walk away.

They took another blow from their cigarette. It took a moment before Janus realized that if they’d kept their cigarette in their mouth that meant the jacket was- OH FUCK FIRE!

A part of the jacket had caught on fire and was spreading it over to the grass. Remy and Janus glanced at each other before both jumping onto the jacket in blind panic. They stomped around on the grass to get the fire out.

“Motherfucker!” Remy yelled at a piece of really determined fire grass while jumping up and down on it repeatedly.

Finally when all of the fire had died down all that was left was both of them panting in the quickly darkening evening. Remy stumbled and sat down at the side of the pavement. It felt like electricity was burning along their spine.

They felt the jacket be put around their shoulders before Janus sat down beside them. He didn’t say anything as he looked up at the sky.

Remy lit another cigarette and took a long blow from it. “You’re looking to start another fire already? Impressive” Janus teased.

“Shut up”

“Noted”

Janus didn’t say anything more. He looked at the halloween decorations in the different windows. At the purple hues of the sky that had started to turn to dark blue. Remy kept shuddering.

They sat there until they’d finished their cigarette. They immediately took out a new one. The last one in the package. They muttered something under their breathe before lighting it.

“It just feels so whiny” Remy mumbled out, it was barely more than a whisper.

Janus titled his head to look at them “What?”

“It’s like. Obviously I hate your stupid ass Logie ‘cause he’s an asshole....but like I also feel kinda jealous I guess. Your relationship just seems to work out so perfectly. It doesn’t feel fair. And yes I know that makes me a dick”

“To be fair we haven’t been dating long enough to get out of the honeymoon phase”

He thought for a bit before continuing, he tried testing the words around on his tongue so he wouldn’t upset them.

“Logan has actually come to work dead tired a few times after he and patty have stayed up all night talking things through after an argument. I assume eventually me and Lo will argue but even if we do I am certain we will talk it through afterwards until we’re both feeling better and so we know we won’t argue about the same thing again...if you get me? You- I don’t think arguing and then just not resolving never works. No one deserves that”

“Bad circle of arguments yeah”

They let the cigarette smoke flow out from between their teeth. Janus carefully glanced at them to see so he hadn’t said anything wrong.

“I didn’t even like leave when he broke the cane” Remy suddenly said in a tired voice “It wasn’t until today when he like joked about and I just got upset for some stupid reason-”

“A good reason”

“Yeah sure. So we like started arguing and I just kept seeing red kinda until he like kissed me and I know what he was trying to make the argument stop by fucking so he could say everything was fine and we didn’t have to talk about it anymore ‘cause it was in the past now. And usually I give in- or- fuck- no that sounds wrong- he doesn’t- I do want- or like no I don’t Want to but that’s just ‘cause I’m all fucked up when it comes to sex- I just- It’s not like I Don’t want to- It’s consensual! I promise!” They weren’t lying.

“I believe you” Janus replied.

They took a deep breathe before continuing “But i just like- I just got so tired of him Always brushing past the issues somehow! Either I start crying or he has a panic attack and I have to calm him down or we fuck and he makes me feel like the crazy one if I bring it up again! I just wanna talk it out! For once! It’s just like the same issues over and over! No matter how hard I try to keep the relationship together I Always mess something up again and ruin everything again!”

“....That does sound very annoying. I would have started drywall if I were you”

Janus’ chest warm when his stupid comment got a stressed out little chuckle from his crush.

“Yeah” They brushed their thumb up and down the skin of their other hand “I just can’t leave him”

“I...” Janus forced his words down “I’m not telling you to”

“Sure gal. Sure. Like. He. And” They looked out across the desolate road as if searching for how to get the tumble of thoughts out “We’ve been together so long I don’t know where I end and Virgil begin anymore”

“Oh”

“Yeah. I don’t remember how I lived without him. I dunno how I could ever survive without him. He was all I had for like so long” Their shoulders started to shake “I would have died if he wasn’t there. I know it. I know. It’s not even like a question. I don’t- I dunno”

Janus gently leaned his head against their shaking shoulder “Well I think you’re quite amazing for surviving at all. Whether it was because of Virgil or not”

Remy dug their fingers down into the skin of their thighs. They shut their eyes so tightly but the tears still spilled through. Their spine ached. It never stopped aching.

“Even if it emotional abuse like you’re saying” Remy mumbled out through the tears “I don’t care. I honestly like- I don’t- I can’t”

Janus didn’t reply. He didn’t know what to even say. He carefully moved his arms their waist in a sort of half hug.

“I mean like I- it all feels so normal- abuse is like blood on the shoes and muffled hockey games playing on the tv while you’re crying and bruises around necks. The yelling and stuff is so like normal y’know so it’s not- It would be weird without it. I’m like such a stupid annoying mess of an overemotional burden I deserve it either way. I can like take Virgil yelling at me in exchange for not being all alone for the rest of my life”

Janus was completely caught off guard at comment of them being alone forever without their abuser. He looked up into their eyes that had turned red from tears.

“Why would I ever leave you?”

Remy looked back at him. They opened their mouth and then closed it again. There were so many reasons for why he should have left already. They didn’t know where to start.

“You- I would- I’m an asshole- I will like force you away” They choked out.

“Darling” Janus said it in that firm way, as if he was an aunt about to scold them for destroying a window “Do you even realize how much of a dick you were to Logan?”

“i- uh-”

“A very big one! I would even describe it as rude at times! But I can assure you that he has told me that even after that if you ever contacted him he would accept your friendship in a heartbeat! If he is ready for that do you seriously think me or Remus for that matter would leave you?? Have you met Remus??? He would murder a person for you! Several even! I would too!” (Specifically one emo fucker!)

There was a hint of blushing on Remy’s cheeks “He....he would?” They mumbled to themself.

“So my dearest Remy” He held them closer “As long as I am here I will make goddamn sure you won’t ever be alone! You can quote me on that!”

“Girl- Actually Bitch I’ve already cried you don’t gotta do all this”

“You can’t stop me!” Janus shone up into a sinister smile “Just you wait until I bring out my evil laugh”

“Don’t tell me your evil plan is to make me feel better”

“Actually it’s to make you feel loved but close enough!”

“Well I am a known mind reader so like of course”

Janus let up into a laugh. He churned his forehead against their shoulder like a cat showing affection. Remy leant their head on top of his. His hair made a good pillow.

“I still won’t leave him” Remy mumbled out into his hair.

Janus forced all of his rage back. All of the counter arguments. All the threats towards their bitch of a boyfriend.

“Okay” Was all he got out “Okay”

“I love him. He loves me. We take care of each other. I need him”

“I care about you dear” Janus searched for their hand “I want you to know that, and I want you to not forget it” He felt their cold fingers weave together with his “And if you ever need a place, for a night, for a week, for months, you can come to me at any moment. Or if you simply need to vent. You can even call me to come help you if- if anyone ever- anyone treats you like don’t deserve to be treated, because darling you deserve so incredibly much”

Remy let out a small chuckle “I already know I can crash at your place girl”

“No Remy seriously”

Janus took both of their hands in his. Their fingers intertwined. Their eyes met. He looked dead serious. Like his life hung on this.

“If you told me to run away with you I would do it in a heartbeat”

He’d never seen Remy blush this hard. Their mouth moved in that way where it was obvious they were holding back a grin. They melted on the inside but they didn’t say that. Didn’t say how hard their heart was beating either.

They leant forward a pressed a kiss to his cheek, right by his lips. Any more than that and the guilt would eat them alive.

Remy leant back and looked down at him “I won’t, but I appreciate it”

“I will always be here for you. In any way. If you ever decide to leave I am ready to support you in Any way you need”

“I know”

“I care about you more than you can imagine”

“I know gal”

“I- I lov-”

“I know” They smiled “I know”

Janus didn’t know in what way they meant that. He dusted his clothes off before getting up. The sky had fully darkened. The tears had dried on Remy’s cheeks.

He picked up their cane and gave it to them. Their cigarette laid long forgotten on the ground. He held out his hand.

“Rowan is probably worried. Do you want to go back? Have that sleepover?”

Remy hesitated. The longer they were gone the more mad Virgil would get more mad when they eventually got home. Their hand lingered on their cane. They met his eyes.

#i have 0 idea how the weather works in florida #sanders sides #janus sanders #remy sanders #desleep #3 am posting #my headache is horrible #mini fic

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rosemaidenvixen · 3 years

Text

A Secret’s Worth

Chapter 17: Jim

Ao3

Content warning: Things get pretty intense in this chapter in a lot of ways. I can't be detailed without spoiling the events of the chapter, so I'll put more the general warnings in the tags. If you want more specific warnings you can click the link above and go to the Ao3 page where I’ve posted the spoiler filled warnings in the bottom notes. And if anyone feels like I didn’t tag/warn about something that I should have please let me know. This is your warning, here be dragons, proceed with caution.

There was a stain in the carpet, from coffee if he had to guess. A dark brown spot glaringly obvious against the beige. It looked just big enough for his hand to cover.

“Jim, are you listening?”

He jerked his eyes up from the floor towards the desk in front of him.

“Sorry what was that?”

Her lips turned downwards into a tiny frown “We were discussing your goals Jim,”

“Oh, right….” he drummed his fingers against his knees.

A goal. Jim had still been trying to think of one when he zoned out looking at the carpet.

Couldn’t do any kind of job or college, those weren’t happening for him. She’d said their goals could be as long term or short term as they wanted, so maybe--

“My goal is to buy my own Vespa,” Jim said, giving himself a mental pat on the back as he did.

Owning his own Vespa. Nice, realistic, normal. A good, solid goal that no one should look twice at.

The frown melted away into a wide smile “That’s great, do you have anywhere you want to go in your Vespa?”

His face blanked, stomach dropping no less than two inches.

Stupid.

People wanted cars and Vespas and stuff because they wanted to go places in them. Unlike Jim who was never going to leave his hometown.

“Ummm…..not sure, all the places I normally go I guess,” he forced his voice to stay even despite the squirming in his belly.

Her porcelain smile remained fixed in place “I think that sounds like an excellent goal, but how about you try to think of a more long term goal before the end of the school year?”

Jim nodded along, digging his fingers into his jeans to distract himself from the hot, fluttery feeling sweeping over his entire body.

Was she suspicious? Did she pick up on how he wasn’t actually planning on going anywhere? Was she going to call Dorrie the second he left her office?

“Ok, long term goal next time, I can do that,”

Beaming at him, she pulled a packet of papers off the top of the pile sitting on her desk “You don’t have to use the guide to pick a goal, but if you have trouble thinking of one these should give you some ideas, now do you mind sending in the next student on your way out?”

Jim forced himself to stand up slowly and not just bolt out the door “Ok, no problem,”

“Thanks, have a good spring break,”

He managed to smile and give a half hearted ‘You to’ as he accepted the papers and stepped out of the office. Heading down the hallway back to the main waiting room, the jittery feeling crawling through his muscles diminishing but not completely going away.

It never did.

Glancing around the waiting room, he spotted the next person in line.

“Eli, you’re up,”

Eli fumbled with the magazine in his hands before popping up out of his seat “Oh, thanks Jim,” he grabbed the magazine along with a stack of others from the floor before rushing down the hall. Jim craned his head to try and read the cover before Eli vanished around the corner.

Keep So-Cal Weird.

Jim rolled his eyes as he exited the main office. At least his goals wouldn’t be as weird as Eli’s. Although quite frankly he’d rather live in a world where they didn’t make freshmen discuss their goals with the guidance counselors.

It wasn’t like Jim didn’t have enough on his plate already.

He had no idea if guidance counselors and social workers talked to each other on a regular basis, but he had to play it safe and act like they did.

Especially since he was like 99% sure that all the teachers knew. He knew that Strickler knew, and he was pretty sure that Strickler had told all the other teachers. So it was more like he was 99.999% sure they all knew, and the 0.001% was just him kidding himself.

So now he couldn’t even come up with some kind of goals to give the guidance counselor without his anxiety going through the roof.

Jim all but threw his bag into the locker and slammed it closed with much more force than was needed, unable to stop himself from getting worked up.

This past month had been the absolute worst of his entire life.

It had started when he’d walked in on Dorrie and Charles going through their house and it hadn’t really improved since.

When he and his mom had gone over their game plan that night after the initial panic it hadn’t seemed all that bad. Be extra vigilant about making sure that no one saw anything weird and otherwise pretend that everything was normal. If they kept on top of it the investigation should fizzle out to nothing.

Simple enough.

And the first week hadn’t been all that bad, tense but not bad. Week two had been nerve wracking but doable. Week three was when he really started having trouble sleeping, and it wasn’t like he got tons of sleep to begin with. That snowballed to him starting to forget late night meals and nod off during the day, having to work even harder at keeping up the act during school.

Although if Jim was honest with himself he forgot most of those night time meals on purpose.

On top of that, week four was when he developed a stomach ache that wouldn’t go away, not to mention learned that his hair was falling out. Now it was the end of week five and Jim couldn’t remember a time when he wasn’t stressed out, dead tired, and constantly felt like rats were chewing on his insides.

Grimacing, Jim pressed a hand to his stomach as he turned and headed to the cafeteria. Feeling sick and exhausted all the time sucked, but that was nothing compared to the everpresent, unrelenting, blood curdling dread.

The fear that he’d somehow let something slip. That right at this moment someone was coming to arrest his mom and take him away. All because of something Jim said or did.

Forget walking on eggshells, this was more like crawling through a minefield.

Every second that Jim was outside his house he had to be on guard; keeping himself under complete control at all times. Making sure that anyone watching, teachers, nurses, other classmates, wouldn’t see anything worth reporting. No outbursts no meltdowns no nothing.

As far as anyone else knew the Lakes were a normal, happy family. And Jim had to act like it.

But after five weeks he knew that was a hell of a lot easier said than done.

Jim couldn’t be sad or scared or angry any more, even about regular things. With so many people watching he couldn’t afford to let them get the wrong idea. So regardless of what he was actually feeling at any given time, he forced himself to stay calm, plastered on a happy face, and continued along like everything was fine.

But he wasn’t fine. Underneath his plastic smile Jim was coming apart at the seams.

He felt like a nerve with all the skin and muscle ripped away. Exposed to the cold air and completely vulnerable, ready to go off at the slightest touch.

Constantly keeping himself under control in front of all the teachers and every other adult in school was was bad enough, even without--

Jim stopped short as he stepped into the cafeteria, instantly spotting them sitting at a corner table. Five weeks ago the sight would have been somewhat soothing, now it was enough to make his heartbeat triple and intestines knot up.

Pulling in a shaky breath, Jim forced down the sudden bout of nerves.

He was in the middle of school in the middle of the cafeteria surrounded by other people. Now was not the time to lose it.

Five in. Hold for five. Five out.

Repeat

After a minute of deep breathing the full body shivers finally diminished to a much more manageable fluttering in his chest. Confident that he’d successfully gotten his emotions under control, Jim raised a foot and slowly resumed his approach.

Jim had been going back and forth about doing this for weeks, but this morning cinched it.

He was doing this. Today. Right here right now. Even if the idea of doing it felt like standing on the edge of a cliff.

Because the worst part of the past month hadn’t been constantly being on guard or always being tired and nauseous. It was not knowing who’d he had to be on guard from.

A month ago, when he’d walked in on CPS in his house, Jim instantly knew one of his friends had blabbed.

While his immediate response had been to call Toby and demand answers, it didn’t take very long for Jim to shift gears to shoving the thought into the back of his mind and keeping it there. Couldn’t do anything to change it so there was no point to shoving his foot into that hornets nest. A with the way things had blown up when their problems with his mom first came out, forcing the issue might put him on the odds with all of them, and cost Jim the one part of his life that didn’t actively suck right now. The only thing to do was let it go.

So Jim let it go.

But as the weeks went by, despite how much he actively tried not to think about it, small doubts kept sprouting up in the back of his mind like weeds.

Did Mary really mean it when she asked how he was doing or was she fishing?

Was Toby trying to be helpful by offering to help carry groceries in or was he looking for a chance to spy inside the house?

His heart shot up into his throat, pounding as he closed in on the table.

And while Jim knew it had to be one of the four of them that called, he still had no idea who it was. That meant he didn’t know who it wasn’t either.

So as much as he tried, as much as he wanted to, Jim could never completely relax around any of his friends.

It was bad enough being on edge with every single adult in his life, but not knowing which one of his friends had stabbed him in the back, and worse not knowing if they were waiting to do it again…..

Jim stopped in his tracks, table just inches away. The four of them chatting away, his presence still unnoticed. Heartbeat hammering in his ears.

This was going to be ugly but Jim just couldn’t take not knowing any more. One way or another the truth was coming out today.

“I know one of you called the cops on my mom, so who was it?”

The four of them practically jumped in their seats before whirling around to face him. Claire was the first to find her tongue.

“What?”

Her eyebrows were knitted together in confusion. An expression shared by all the others sitting around her.

Somehow that made the lump of coal sitting in his ribcage smolder hotter even as his heart was threatening to beat out of it.

One of them knew exactly what he was talking about. One of them was only pretending to be confused.

“A month ago someone called CPS on my mom and I know it was one of you,” he made a show of narrowing his eyes and crossing his arms “So don’t try to deny it,”

They all turned and looked at each other, shifting uncomfortably in their seats.

Jim stood his ground, mouth set into a firm line and prickling doubts shoved down into the bottoms of his feet. There it was, the accusation out in the open. Whoever it was might try to deny it, but Jim knew it had to be one of the four of them, and he wasn’t going to let them weasel their way out of--

“Jim….” Toby spoke slowly, briefly meeting his eyes before looking away “We….all did,”

His heart stopped.

For a moment Jim wasn’t sure how to respond, wondering if he’d actually heard Toby correctly, then the world slowly started to turn again and the words sank in.

“.....you what?”

“It’s true,” he snapped his gaze over to Darci, she flinched but didn’t look away “After we tried...talking to you, the three of us went to my dad and showed him the photos,” she glanced over to Toby at her side “It was only after that we learned Toby also talked to someone about--”

Jim whirled on Mary “I thought you said you deleted those?!”

“I-- uh-- umm…” she squirmed in her seat “I....made…...copies,”

Jim’s jaw fell open, unable to form words.

Out of all the possibilities, all the theories and ideas he’d had on who might have called, he’d never even dreamed that they’d all been in on it together.

His head was spinning, insides frozen and a roaring sound in his ears. Both hands rising up and fisiting through his hair, in a distant part of his mind he knew he shouldn’t be doing that since it was still falling out.

Just when he’d thought there couldn’t be anything else. That life couldn’t possibly throw anything worse at him--

Things became worse than he ever could have imagined.

He was faintly aware that the four of them were glancing around at each other from across the cafeteria table “Ok,” Claire laid both hands flat in front of her palms down “You have every right to be mad at us, but…”

Jim tuned her out, he couldn’t bring himself to pay attention to whatever Claire was saying when his world was going to pieces right now.

He thought that when he figured out who had been the one to call CPS he could call them out for lying and get the rest of the group to back him up. That he’d figure out who he could actually feel safe with and finally be able to fix at least one part of his completely messed up life.

But it hadn’t been one of them, it had been all of them. They’d torn his life apart and kept it a secret. They lied to him. Every day. For over a month.

Heat shot through him, flooding through his whole body until it felt like every ounce of blood in his veins was boiling.

It was his friends all along. All of them. They threw him and his mom under the bus and then they lied about it.

All the fear, all the worry. His inability to sleep or keep food down, the fact that his hair was falling out.

It was all because of them.

For the first time in weeks Jim wasn’t scared, he was pissed as hell.

“I can’t believe you guys!”

They all jerked back, eyes wide, shocked at the volume of his outburst.

“All of you knew about this,” Jim felt nails stabbing into his palms from the force he was clenching his hands “And you lied to me about it for over a month!? How could you!?”

He was spitefully glad to see them all flinch and look deeply ashamed at that.

“Look Jim,” Toby started to speak “I know you must be angry, but--”

He shriveled into silence under the glare Jim gave him.

How dare he. How dare he try and pretend like any of this was ok. The girls he could sort of see, but Toby was practically family. His mom had done more for Toby than anyone else would have in the same situation.

And Toby had still sold them out, with Claire, Darci, and Mary giving a helping hand.

Jim slowly turned to glare at each of them, the heat rushing over him blazing even hotter as he saw their pained faces and slumped shoulders.

Had they had secret meetings talking about this without him, had they laughed, snickering about being able to keep him fooled for so long.

Somehow a cold dribble of guilt managed to seep in past the white hot fire in his belly.

Even as blindingly furious as he was, for both himself and his mom, deep down Jim knew that wasn’t true. The reason they made the call was because they felt they had no choice.

They hadn’t done this as a joke, they were worried, they’d done this because they were scared for him. They’d done this because they wanted to help.

But despite knowing that, despite knowing that he was taking this too far and was going to regret everything he was saying as soon as he cooled off, Jim was too angry to care.

“I told you guys. My mom. Doesn’t. Hurt me.” he got louder and louder with every word, until he was practically shouting, the raging inferno inside him demanding to be set free “Don’t you get it? She could get arrested because of this, I could get taken away. Did you even think about that at all!?”

Toby shot up out of his seat with a bang, cutting off Jim’s tirade. Glancing up at him out of sheer reflex, he saw that Toby had the edge of the table in a whiteknuclekd grip, every muscle in his body taut and trembling, eyes sharp as knives.

“No Jim. You don’t get to do that.” his voice was cold and harder than steel, harder than anything he’d ever heard coming out of Toby’s mouth “You don’t get to drop bombs like your mom locking you in the basement and expect us to pretend like everything’s ok. And you don’t get to act like we’re the bad guys for trying to help you,”

Jim found himself taking an involuntary step back. He’d never heard Toby this angry. Ever.

Prying his hands free, Toby stomped around the table towards him, Jim pinned in place under his molten gaze “You don’t get to talk about lying when you were the one who’s been lying all along. When you’ve been lying to me for years!”

“Tobes I--”

One look from Toby shut him up.

“But now you want to play honesty hour? Fine, we’ll play honesty hour. How did you really get those scars on your ankle?”

The bottom fell out of Jim’s stomach, taking every remaining drop of anger with it.

“.........what?”

“Well?” Toby stopped two feet away, green eyes boring holes into him “Go on, tell me, where did those scars come from?”

Jim couldn’t do anything but gape at him. The rehearsed answer, they came from a fox bite, sat in the back of his throat withering.

He couldn’t know. It was impossible. Only two people in the world knew the truth. The act done in the dim of the early dawn in the middle of a remote forest.

Don’t worry sweetie, it's a sterile blade. A few quick cuts and a bandage on top should get you all the shots you need, no questions asked.

There was no way for Toby to know, but the look in his eyes told Jim that he did.

“How-- how--” he struggled to get the words out “How do you--”

Darci gingerly slid out of her seat to come stand next to Toby “Ok let’s all just take a deep breath and relax for a second,” she glanced over, her expression cool and professional, no longer holding any trace of guilt “Jim, I’m sorry we lied about what we did but I’m not sorry for doing it,”

“Darci’s right,” Mary stood and approached, Claire at her side “And we all agreed, what’s going on with your mom….that’s not ok, and we couldn’t just stand by and do nothing. I know your mom was probably really messed up when your dad walked out, but that doesn’t mean--”

The words hit him like a fist to the gut “How do you know about that!?”

Mary shut her mouth, cheeks pink.

By now everyone in the cafeteria was turning and looking at them. And who could blame them with all the yelling. Jim knew that this was exactly the type of scene he needed to avoid, but all the emotions boiling up in his chest were too enormous and tangled and turbulent for him to make space to care about their audience.

Claire took half a step forward “Look Jim, I’m sorry we lied to you about reporting your mom, that was messed up and we shouldn’t have done it, but...” she inhaled, drawing herself up to full, regal height “But we wouldn’t have had to report her behind your back if you had just let us help you in the first place,”

“Yeah, you don’t get to talk to us about lying,” he spun back towards Mary. Hands on her hips, eyes narrowed into diamond hard points “If you had been honest with us from the beginning we wouldn’t have had to lie about anything,”

Toby stepped to the front of the group, arms folded in front of him “To more tricks or lies. We need the truth Jim. The whole truth, about everything. The scars, the basement, your curfew,” his expression was granite, voice flint “Right here, right now.”

Jim staggered back, furiously glancing at each of their faces. Claire and Darci were stern and unmoving as statues, while Toby and Mary were full on glaring daggers into him.

How was this possible? How did they know all this?

He couldn’t get enough air, chest tight as he shrunk under the weight of the four sets of eyes on him.

What else did they know? If they knew about the scars and his dad and the basement, what else did they know? And how close were they to learning….the rest?

The one tiny, microscopic flicker of hope Jim had was that he knew that they still didn’t know about….his real secret.

If they did they sure as hell wouldn’t be quiet about it.

But how close were they to figuring it out? They’d figured so much out already, it was probably only a matter of time.

And if this was how they responded to everything else, how would they react to learning that Jim was really a--

Icy daggers twisted in his gut.

He couldn’t do this anymore.

He needed out now.

Jim turned and bolted, running out of the cafeteria as fast as his legs could carry him. Barely aware of his friends’ shouts from behind him. But he couldn’t outrun the panicked screaming in his skull.

They knew about his mom locking him up, they knew about how his dad left, they knew how he really got the scars on his ankle. Sooner or later they would figure out that Jim was the monster all along and when they did--

Throughout the years ideas of what would happen if people learned about his transformation had always flickered at the edge of his thoughts. Jim had done his best to force them out of his head and keep them from taking full shape, but now every horrible, twisted thought he’d had over the years surged to the front of his mind and refused to be buried.

If anyone learned his secret it was only a matter of time until the government found out, and when they did they wouldn’t just let him run free. Jim’s blue form was an unknown; wild, dangerous. At the very least they’d lock him in a cell and throw away the key. Or maybe they would send him off to some secret lab to get dissected and analyzed piece by piece.

His breath became choppy and ragged as he raced down the hall.

Or maybe Jim was too dangerous to leave alive at all, maybe they’d drag him away for a long drive into the desert that ended with a bullet to the back of his skull.

And his mom--

A jagged lump spouted in his throat.

Would they lock her up to? For keeping his secret as long as she did. But she hadn’t broken any laws, maybe they’d just leave her alone? But then would they even tell her what they did with him? Or would she be left sitting alone in their house not knowing what happened to him while Jim sat in a prison cell, or got chopped to pieces in a lab, or rotted in an unmarked grave.

He could barely see the lockers rushing by him as heat built up behind his eyes. He was trembling all over now, blood rushing in his ears and scream building in the back of his throat.

Keep it together. Keep it together. Keep it together.

Jim was going to break down, he knew that. But he couldn’t let it happen in the middle of school. Not now, not again. Had to get out, go home, get somewhere safe.

Right now his secret was still under wraps, and the only way for Jim to keep those horrific ideas from becoming reality was to keep it that way.

And that meant not having another public meltdown.

Ignoring the sound of the bell, signalling other kids to start streaming into the hall, Jim scrambled up to his locker and started fumbling with the lock.

Despite his badly trembling hands he managed to get the locker open and pull his bag free, but in his haste to grab it the bag started slipping from his grip. Jim just barely caught the side in time to keep it from falling, but in doing so accidentally pulled the bag open, causing everything inside to spill out.

Jim could only watch in horror as textbooks clunked to the ground, papers scattering all over the floor, pens and pencils rolling in every direction. Insides curdling as he stared at the mess.

Why now? Why today of all days? On top of everything else--

His eyes stung.

Why couldn’t he just get a break?

Trying and failing to force himself through his breathing exercises, Jim got down on his knees and struggled to gather the contents of his bag.

Somehow his efforts to gather the papers just spread them even more, the task made impossible by how badly he was shaking all over, breath coming in quick, quivering pants, teeth digging into his lip until he tasted copper, a storm roiling just beneath his skin.

He squeezed his eyes shut, grabbing a textbook and clenching his fingers around it so tight they hurt.

Get it together. Get it together. Get it together.

“Oh my god are you crying again?”

Jim froze, inside and out, eyes shooting open to stare down at two of his pencils and the textbook he’d just grabbed off the floor. Familiar snide, smarmy voice coming from behind him.

“Dude he totally is!” Seamus said with a laugh “This is too good,”

Jim couldn’t move, nerves paralyzed. Every drop of emotion he’d had to deal with today, shock, anger, fear, and guilt, surging through him.

“Awww what’s the matter baby?” Steve jeered “Do you want a bottle?”

Seamus and Logan’s laughter echoed in his ears. From the corner of his eye he saw the traffic around them slowing as other people stopped and stared. He couldn’t feel his fingers any more, curled into rigid claws around the edges of the book.

And just like that Jim was done.

He threw his textbook against the lockers as hard as he could, unleashing a thunderous boom into the hall.

“Fuck off Steve!”

Steve, along with Logan, Seamus, and everyone else milling around in the hallway behind him, froze “What did you just say Lake?”

“You heard me Steve,” Jim growled, stomping to his feet “Fuck. Off.”

Normally he would never lose his cool with Steve, the guy just wasn’t worth it, but after everything that had happened today, everything that had happened over the last month, he just couldn’t take it any more.

And Steve thought he was such a hot shot; popular, spot on the basketball team, grades good enough to keep it but not so good to be considered a nerd. But Jim knew a lot more than Steve thought he did.

Recovering from his surprise at Jim’s outburst, Steve gave him his best sneer “Alright Crybaby you got about ten seconds to get down on your knees and apologize before I break your--”

“Oh can it Steve, like you have any business calling me crybaby when you were the one bawling in the locker room about how your daddy couldn’t come watch your big game!” Jim practically spat the words.

The smug look on Steve’s face vanished, eyes going wide and the color leeching from his skin “Wha-- how-- how did--”

“Since you can’t seem to figure it out I’ll spell it out for you, your dad doesn’t give a shit about you or your basketball games! And if you really want to make him happy go play in traffic so he doesn’t have to pay child support!”

A hush went through the crowded hall. Semus’s eyes were bugging out and Logan looked absolutely petrified; Steve himself was wearing the most hang-jawed expression Jim had ever seen.

More and more people were gathering around now, drawn by all the commotion. Jim knew it was bad to be drawing this kind of attention, especially after the stunt he just pulled on the cafeteria, but the dam inside him had burst and it felt so so good to finally let it all out.

Let someone else have the rug pulled out from under them. Let someone else feel exposed and vulnerable. Let someone else have their deepest darkest secrets thrown back in their face.

Let someone else be afraid for once. Someone who actually deserved it.

“Face it Steve you’re not special,” Jim’s voice practically dripped venom “You’re just some moron who thinks that if they dribble a basketball good enough they can get an even bigger moron to give two shits about them. It’d actually be funny if it wasn’t so pathetic,”

Even as he said the words, felt the thrill of finally being able to take Steve down a peg, a tiny trickle of guilt managed to creep in. For saying something so horrible, so wrong. That no one deserved to hear, not even Steve. But what little guilt he had was easily drowned out by the massive ocean of vindictive glee he felt now that Psycho Steve was getting to experience a tiny piece of what it was like to be Jim Lake.

The crowd around them was deathly quiet now, everyone stunned into silence by Jim’s words. Shocked that he actually went there. With one exception.

Steve’s face had gone from ghost white to purple, the veins in his neck bulging, hands balled into fists as his sides “You’d better shut your mouth Lake,” his voice was soft but dangerous. Everyone, even Logan and Seamus, nervously edging away from him.

Unfortunately for him Jim just didn’t care anymore.

“Or what?”

He stepped forward, unable to resist poking the bear “You gonna punch me in the face or something? Well go on, do it! You’re only mad because I’m right!”

Another rush of spiteful satisfaction coursed through him when Jim saw the purple flush on Steve’s face darken even further at his words, so much that he didn’t even care that some of the onlookers had started to pull out their phones.

“Well what are you waiting for? Hit me, punch me, it’s not gonna make a difference. It’s not going to change the fact that you’re a loser who’s life has fucking peaked!” he jabbed a finger into Steve’s chest, getting right up into his face “That the only thing you have going for you is a spot on the basketball team. And after that all you have to look forward to is a dead end job at the gas station and at least two divorces!”

Steve was practically quivering with anger now, nostrils flaring, teeth clenched so hard he was surprised they hadn’t cracked, but Jim could still see the flash of genuine hurt in his eyes “I’m warning you Lake--”

“Because that’s all you’ll ever be, a loser! Maybe the real reason your dad left was because he finally figured out how much of a loser you really--”

The blow took him by surprise, more than it probably should have. A dazzling flash of pain in his temple that snapped his head back into the lockers with a deafening bang as more pain flared in the back of his skull. Hot stars danced in his vision, the world around him spinning,.

Jim vaguely registered that he wasn’t on his feet anymore, felt the linoleum under his back, the cool metal behind his shoulders and neck. Dimly heard the panicked shouts coming up from around him, even though he couldn’t make out the words.

Blinking past the throbbing pain in his skull, and the warm trickle of something in his eye, Jim’s sight cleared just long enough for him to see Steve’s face, twisted into a mask of primal rage, and another fist rapidly approaching.

#tales of arcadia #Trollhunters #A Secret's Worth #fanfic #rmvwrites #jim lake jr #claire nuñez #darci scott #toby domzalski #mary wang #language #violence #death mention #dissection mention

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actual-lea · 3 years

Photo

BUT WAIT THERE’S MORE

AO3 | First chapter

The train ride is largely uneventful; Daniel idly taps two fingers against his leg in rhythmic patterns and watches the buildings and trees and countryside fly past in a blur of dull greens and grays. The exact directions from the station are just as much of a blur in his head, but he's sure that he'll know where to go once he arrives, that muscle memory will take over and he'll be on his way in no time at all.

By the third time he wanders back into the station to stare at the map, he's started to doubt that theory.

“Lost?”

He nearly jumps out of his skin and whirls around to face the source of the voice, a tall man in a suit watching him with amusement from behind a pair of thick glasses.

“Uh, y– No. I'm...” Dan gestures helplessly to the map and finally manages to stammer out, “Queen's College.”

The man chuckles and reaches past him to point at a spot on the map. “There,” he says simply, and he takes a small step back as Daniel fumbles with his pack, rummaging around for a pen and scrawling the relevant street names onto his hand. “You a student, then?”

Daniel freezes. “...Yes.” He reaches for a tie that he isn’t wearing and ends up awkwardly fidgeting with the placket of his shirt instead. “Yeah, that’s right.”

“Right.” The man clears his throat, like he's covering up another laugh, before he turns to walk away. “Good luck, then.”

Dan waits until he's fully out of sight before letting out a heavy exhale. So much for not drawing attention to himself. He's just being paranoid, of course, and he knows it, but it still takes a not-insignificant amount of willpower to keep himself from hopping the first train back to London and flying far away from here without looking back. Instead, he takes a deep breath and forces his feet to start moving in the right direction, because there's nothing to worry about. He can do this. He can do this.

------

“I can't do this.”

Daniel shakes the man again, uselessly, like he’ll start breathing on his own if he just waits long enough.

“Come on, I can't do this, you have to wake up now.”

He knows what to do in theory, but a single week of CPR training in an undergrad health class, well over a decade ago, hardly qualifies him to actually do it.

“I can't do this, don't make me do this, please don't make me–” He squeezes his eyes shut and drags both hands through his wet hair, twisting his fingers tight to pull at his scalp, and mutters through a quick assortment of curses.

“Okay.” He opens his eyes and takes a deep breath, in and out. “Okay. Okay. I can do this. Okay.” His hands hover nervously over the motionless body beneath him. “Okay...” He tilts the man's head back and concentrates on his own breathing for a few seconds, forcing himself to take steady, even breaths despite the residual burning in his lungs. Finally, he leans down, pinches the man's nose, and directs two of those even breaths into his mouth before sitting back up and placing his hands, left over right, in the middle of his chest.

He counts aloud, his voice unsteady, with each compression. It's almost impossible to keep a consistent pace when the float is constantly moving, rocking from side to side and bobbing unevenly in the waves; he might as well be trying to perform CPR on a waterbed.

He makes it all the way to twenty-eight before he's suddenly pitched forward by a particularly rough wave; he catches himself on the edge of the float as water floods over the top of it and then quickly recedes, nearly dragging the two of them off along with it.

The platform stabilizes after a few more seconds, and Daniel carefully re-situates himself before leaning down to give the man another two lungfuls of air. As he sits up, he checks for a pulse again, holding his breath to stop his fingers from shaking. “I really need you to wake up, now...” He closes his eyes and waits a few more seconds before reluctantly moving his hands back into position.

“One, two, three, four...” He watches the man's head jerk with each push – God, is he even doing this right? – and counts in his head, whispering a breathless mantra to the same rhythm, “Please, let, this, work, please–” –fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen– “Please. Let. This. Work. Twenty-three. Twenty-four. Twenty-five. Twenty-six. Please. Let. This. Work.”

He swallows, and inhales, and bends down for two more breaths, pausing for a moment to catch his own breath in between.

One, two, three... There's an awful sense of dread rising in his chest and clenching tight in his throat; if this doesn't work – if he's doing it wrong or he's not using enough force or maybe if he's using too much force if there is such a thing as too much – if he screws this up, this guy is dead, and he's going to be completely alone out here, in the middle of the Pacific fucking Ocean without so much as a life vest. “Please. Don't. Die. Please. Don't. Die. Please. Don't. Die. Twenty-eight. Twenty-nine. Thirty.”

Another breath, and another, and Dan sits up and coughs into his arm. How long is he supposed to keep this up? “Come on, come on...” He runs one shaking hand through his hair to push it out of his face and places his other hand flat on the man's chest to feel for a heartbeat, a breath, anything. “Don't– don't do this, please don't do this.”

Nothing.

He exhales and starts again. “One. Two. Three. Four. Please. Wake. Up. Eight. Nine. Ten.” His arms are aching, already, and breathing isn't getting any easier. Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen–

Water explodes out of the man's mouth in a sudden burst, and Dan flinches back, nearly falling off the float. “Whoa–” He slips a hand beneath the man's neck and helps him twist to one side as he chokes, his whole body convulsing violently with the effort. “Hey hey, you're okay, you're okay...”

Finally, he collapses onto his back and starts breathing again; loud, gasping, uneven breaths, but he's breathing.

“It worked,” Daniel says, and he laces his fingers behind his head and laughs. “It actually worked!”

“What...” The man's eyes flutter open, bleary and unfocused, and he starts coughing again.

“You're alright. You're alive, and you're gonna be okay.” It's probably not the time or place for it at all, but Daniel can't seem to wipe the triumphant smile off his face.

His gaze finally fixes on Dan, and he blinks a few times. “You, you're...” He gags, and sucks in a sharp breath. “You were on the Zodiac,” he rasps.

“Yeah, I'm–”

He's interrupted by another splash of water from the man's mouth; he moves to help, but quickly backs off as the man grips the edge of the float and leans over to vomit into the ocean.

Daniel exhales. Briefly, he considers trying to reposition himself in such a way that he isn't more or less sitting in this stranger's lap, but it's glaringly obvious that there simply isn't enough room; the float isn't designed to be ridden, after all, so it's hardly large enough for even one person to sit comfortably. Instead, he places his hands on either side of the platform and allows himself a moment to relax, to breathe. His pulse pounds heavy in his ears, still, but it's finally slowing down now that oxygen isn't in such short supply.

After what seems like minutes, the man collapses onto his back again, his chest rising and falling with labored but even breaths. “Daniel, right?”

Dan looks up, surprised, and nods. “Yeah, yeah, that's right.”

“Thought so.” He holds up one hand in a quick wave. “I'm Peter.”

Daniel nods again. “It's– it's nice to meet you. Formally. Uh...” He clears his throat and shifts uncomfortably. “Sorry about the, uh. Personal space...situation.”

Peter glances down and laughs, weakly. “Hey, I'm alive, I'm not gonna complain.” Then he squints up at Dan and adds, pointing to his own head. “Y’know you’re bleeding?”

“Oh.” He brings a hand to his forehead, then blinks at the smear of red on his fingers. “That’s…probably alright,” he mumbles, pressing a palm over the sore spot on his temple with a slight wince. “Um. Are you– How are you...feeling?”

Peter closes his eyes and coughs, then swallows with obvious difficulty. “Feel like I scrubbed my throat with sandpaper.” His neck tenses and he moves to sit up, but quickly abandons the motion with a grunt. “And my leg hurts,” he adds, through clenched teeth.

“Oh, uh... Which–” Daniel turns, and the question quickly becomes unnecessary. “Oh.”

“How bad is it?”

“It’s…” He tries to keep the panic out of his voice as he loosens his tie with one hand. “It’ll be okay.” He wraps the tie around the bloodiest part of Peter's leg and pulls it tight, careful not to jostle the thick piece of metal buried in the skin just above his knee. “Just...try to stay still, okay?”

Peter doesn't look convinced, but he nods anyway and stares up at the sky with a small cough as Dan lets out a shaky sigh, his excitement from before finally dampened by the reality of their situation setting in.

“Daniel?”

“Hmm?”

“I gotta ask you somethin'.”

Anxiety jolts through him at those words, just out of habit. “Yeah...?”

Peter coughs again and clears his throat. “I know that there was an explosion, and I got thrown in the water, and I just drowned and was maybe dead for a second and everything, so I'm probably just crazy or remembering it wrong, but...” He pushes himself up on one elbow to squint at Dan. “Did the island...disappear?”

“Well...” Daniel exhales, and lets out a single breathless laugh. “Good news and bad news,” he says, and he looks out at the empty horizon, blinking against the too-bright sunlight reflecting off the waves. “Good news, you're not crazy. Bad news...you're not crazy.” He turns back to Peter. “The island is gone.”

He sighs, and relaxes, resting his head on the surface of the float. “Super.” He coughs a few more times and closes his eyes. “Now what?”

Daniel looks around; the largest remnants of the Kahana are barely visible now, almost entirely submerged in the distance. There's still a considerable amount of debris around them, floating in bits and pieces, but nothing that looks particularly useful.

And here and there among the wreckage, he can see a few bodies – or pieces thereof – bobbing in the waves, most of them facedown and all of them motionless.

He tries not to look too closely at those.

“We need to find where the helicopter crashed,” he states, and he looks down at Peter. “It– It was still in the air after the island moved, so it must have just gone down somewhere. There should have been a life raft aboard, and if there are any survivors, that's where we want to be. And even if– if no one made it out, the raft should still be there regardless.” He scratches his head and shrugs a bit. “Either way, it's our best chance.”

“What, and leave all this luxury behind?” Peter waves a hand to their surroundings with something between a smile and a grimace.

Daniel laughs a little as he scans the horizon to the east, toward where the island used to be, guesstimating the distance to the helicopter based on his brief glimpse of it from earlier. “Looked like two, maybe three miles, you think?” He pauses, then adds, “I guess you're not gonna be able to swim, huh,” and it's not really a question.

“No.” Peter closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Sorry.”

“It's– Hey, don't worry about it, alright? It's not a problem, I just... I need a minute to catch my breath, first.” He lets out a heavy sigh. “I am not, exactly, the most fantastic swimmer in the world.”

“If you...” Peter begins quietly. “If you have to leave me behind, I wouldn't hold it against you.”

Daniel blinks, and turns to face him. “Oh... No. No, I'm not doing that.”

“Oh, thank God, because I didn't really mean it,” he says in a rush, visibly relieved.

“Yeah, no, I'm...” Daniel shakes his head. “And besides–” He places one hand on the side of the float. “I'm gonna need this anyway, for breaks.”

“What, you mean you don't wanna swim three miles without stopping?”

He chuckles and gestures to himself. “I know, I definitely look like the super athletic type, don't I?”

Peter's laugh turns into a string of coughs. “So, once we make it to the raft,” he says after catching his breath, and then, “If we make it to the raft... What then?”

“I don't know.” Daniel swallows. “I don't really...have a plan, after that, but...”

Peter nods slowly. “Might as well die on a raft instead of a box,” he sighs.

“Something like that.” Dan looks out over the waves again with a heavy exhale. It's not going to get any closer; if anything, it might be drifting further away while he wastes time. “Okay,” he says finally, shrugging off his backpack. “Would you mind, uh...”

“Got it.” Peter takes the pack and hooks an arm through the straps as Dan carefully lowers himself into the warm water.

The rope attached to the perimeter of the float provides an easy handhold, and Daniel loops it around his wrist to secure it, then pauses and turns back toward Peter. “East, right?” He points, not trusting his own sense of direction, especially with the disorienting waves all around.

Peter cranes his neck to find the afternoon sun, still high in the sky but slowly setting in the opposite direction, and gives a confident nod. “Right.”

And Daniel takes a deep breath and starts swimming.

(next chapter)

#lost #fanfiction #daniel faraday #lost show #abc lost #yeah this is another repost #is it leading to something new? ONLY TIME WILL TELL

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troquantary · 3 years

Note

Didyme?? What are your thoughts, please I'm dying to know!

Oh boy, I’m glad you asked, but you probably won’t be once you see the epic I’ve spawned now that you’ve given me the excuse. (But really, thank you so much for asking!)

My thoughts on Didyme can be separated into two thematic chunks. The first has to do with out-of-universe world- and character-building -- namely, I don’t believe Meyer had this specific “Aro murdered his sister and that’s why Marcus is Like That” backstory in mind while writing New Moon (although she probably did in Breaking Dawn). The second is just pure speculative fun, because based on what Meyer tells us in the illustrated guide and a foundation of some meta that I personally agree with, we can draw some...interesting conclusions about Didyme (and Marcus) as a character. (Or at least, we can if you’re a cynical harpy like me. Which I guess is a content warning about negativity incoming, but the negativity is more about Meyer’s logic than Didyme as a character.)

What I’ve ended up doing is answering you with the first chunk, regarding worldbuilding and such, because I’ve truly outdone myself with the Verbosity. (Like, the second chunk has sub-parts now, what the fuck.) But I’ve nearly written it all, and I’ll follow up with part two very quickly. So. LET’S DO THIS.

Didyme, Part 1: What Backstory? (Or, We Should Have Heard About Her in New Moon)

(relevant Kate Beaton comic)

This is a great time to talk about Meyer and her backstories, because @zzinvolterra has already done a chunk of the work for me with this post, with some excellent additions from others, and @panlight has another great post with replies going in a similar vein. The common theme of both is that Meyer most likely came up with the bulk of her characters’ backstories after the fact, otherwise some of it surely would have come up in the books themselves. Didyme, in retrospect, is glaringly absent from the books, particularly New Moon. It makes the timeline of her backstory’s creation, as @zzinvolterra succinctly put it, “a bit sus,” and I said as much here.

Now, I get that not every background detail about a character has to make it into the books -- it would be clunky, it would fuck with the pacing, and when you’re already dealing with a very limited narrative viewpoint like Bella’s, it doesn’t always make sense to include those tidbits unless they directly concern what’s happening to the viewpoint character.

Didyme’s death, though, and its impact on Marcus, are absolutely relevant to the plot of New Moon. The story of one of the three Volturi leaders, one of the most powerful vampires in the world, rendered a mere husk by the loss of his mate -- this sounds like the kind of cautionary tale that many vampires, and especially the Cullens, would know.

Plus, considering Edward supposedly fucks off to Italy to beg for death because he’s lost his ~one true love~ and there’s no point in living anymore, and also considering Victoria is murderous with grief over James and hunting Bella down with single-minded focus on revenge...I just...there are parallels here, you know? Like, these are some significant plot beats that could be reinforced and given special poignancy through the tragedy of Didyme and Marcus. I mean, am I crazy, or was this not a huge missed opportunity?

If Meyer had Didyme’s murder in mind while writing New Moon, she could have had Alice bring it up to Bella on the plane to Italy, in order to illustrate to Bella (and the audience) the profound grief vampires experience when they lose the ones they love. It’s a grief they can’t forget, because they can’t forget anything, and that grief is the dark side of the strength and constancy with which vampires love their mates. As much as the subject is likely verboten in Volterra, I think the loss of one of the leader’s mates is a story that would have survived among some vampires, and it’s conceivable that Carlisle (and therefore his family) would know at least that Marcus had a mate and that she died -- although nothing detailed, because if anyone thinks too hard about this it’s probably obvious that Aro was behind it.

Personally, I think it was a mistake to not mention Didyme’s death and its impact on Marcus at the most relevant point in the series. Hell, if anything, Meyer could have used Bella’s catatonic state of grief after Edward left as proof of the ~profundity~ of their love by comparing Bella’s grief to Marcus’ -- considering the Romeo and Juliet references she dropped like anvils throughout New Moon, that seems like something she’d have pounced on. Because of the omission, I tend to think Meyer came up with it after the fact, which brings me to one more note on the out-of-universe aspect of this: I also believe Meyer only came up with this backstory to further reinforce how eeevil Aro (supposedly) is and how terrible and corrupt the Volturi (supposedly) are. She really scrambles in Breaking Dawn to justify Edward’s conclusion that the Volturi are Bad Hombres and want nothing more than to destroy the Cullens. (He’s actually full of shit, but my view that the protagonists are Meyer’s mouthpieces and that she isn’t subtle at all about what she wants us to believe is a whole other subject.)

And you know, I can accept that Aro murdered Didyme -- but I don’t have to take it at face value. Which means it’s character analysis/headcanon time, so coming soon, like within the hour if I can get myself to shut up -- is Part Two.

#twilight #twilight renaissance #twilight meta #didyme volturi #aro volutri #anon this is only a scant preview of what you've wrought #i stared too long and the twilight abyss gazed back #zzinvolterra #panlight #you are both wonderful and your posts are excellent #also i edited this a bit to soften it -- i was worked up at the time

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crystxlclear · 4 years

Text

sudden desire

chapter six: previously on: chaotic stupid

part seven of sudden desire

prologue / one / two / three / four / five / masterlist

in which two best friends won’t admit they’re in love so decide to have a baby together instead.

pairing: marcus pike x original female character (coraline meyer)

word count: 8.2k (oh yikes)

warnings: no beta read, brief mentions of pregnancy i guess?

author’s note: this took me weeks to write oh my god

Coraline hasn’t told anyone about Marcus’ offer. Not even Loren, when they’d met for the first time in months, when her boyfriend finally got a night off work to look after Maisie. Not even when they’d drunk too much wine and her head was so fuzzy that she probably would have told anyone anything, if they’d asked. She’s not even sure where she’d start.

Coraline has never been the best at keeping secrets. At least, not her own, and definitely not when she was younger, and she’s always wondering whether that’s why the media seem to think she’s easy prey for their rumours. It never seemed to bother Scott; he was the same, so open and willing to talk about anything and everything with anyone who asked. But it’s different with Marcus. He’s private by necessity but he’s also private by choice, too. She wonders if he’s always been like that, if before the heartbreak he’d told her about occurred, if he’d opened up to people. If what had happened to him had made him closed off. He’s never seemed like a closed book before (and, hell, maybe he isn’t, maybe he just doesn’t want to relive those times; and he doesn’t have to tell her anything, anyway) but he’d opened up to her after he’d made his ‘baby suggestion’. And all she can think of now, since he’d recounted the stories, was that those women - the ex-wife who’d claimed he was too ‘nice’, who’d claimed he was too ‘clingy’ and ‘needy’, and all that utter bullshit, and the one who’d left him for another man, left him alone in D.C. without a single person to lean on - must be completely insane to think that he isn’t good enough for them. Marcus Pike is too good for anyone, she thinks. He’s the best person she knows. Marcus Pike makes Coraline want to be a better person. They didn’t end up ordering takeout that night, like they always did. Coraline had found herself reaching to the back of her cupboards, searching blindly for some ingredients she wasn’t even sure she had, just for him. Marcus loves breakfast. Like, he really loves it, she’s come to find. And at any time of the day, really. And there’s a diner he frequents; it’s near his office, on the other side of town, tucked away just out of Cora’s reach. Though, he has taken her there once before - just after they first met, when she’d tagged along with her older brother to the FBI debriefing, to check his gallery was secure; she’d thought it was a date, until he’d prefaced his offer with an insistence that it was ‘just as friends’; Marcus had spent the whole time raving about the pancakes he ate every Friday — a treat for a long week’s worth and a change from his usual burger and fries — how he’d found the place by accident and it was part of his daily routine, now, until Coraline had given in and let him order for her, since he knew the place better than she did - most of the time, they see each other when it’s late, when he’s already been for his almost daily pancake-fix and she’s collapsed to the sofa with her legs draped over the armrest. They haven’t been back since, though she’d jump at the chance if he ever asked again. Coraline may be a pretty awful cook, and she may not be able to make pancakes as good as the ones he likes, but surely it’s just the sentiment that counts. He’s spent far too many evenings eating greasy Chinese food at her behest, insisting that he’s fine with it, because it makes her feel better. It’s the least she could do. She’d spent an hour making perhaps the world’s worst pancakes - even as Marcus insisted that she didn’t have to cook for him, that they could just order pizza or something if they wanted a change - pancakes so bad that she’d had to drench the damn things in syrup just to disguise the odd sour taste that somehow tinged every mouthful. Marcus had eaten it without issue, even as she’d apologised endlessly for her dreadful culinary skills and insisted that he didn’t have to eat them if he didn’t like them. They’d made him smile, though. And it melted away the last dregs of awkwardness between them. That was the pancakes’ purpose. It didn’t matter that they were utterly terrible, borderline inedible and a little lumpy.

But, when Monday rolls around and her older brother, Daniel, comes to her with his regular insistence that she brings that ‘nice FBI agent she’d made friends with’ to their weekly dinner at his house, she took him up on the offer, for a change. She’s never asked because she’s always assumed he would say no; they weren’t dating and it was a little weird. Surely an invite to weekly family dinners was something couples did.

She always ignores Daniel, used to the persistent insistence to ask him. Relenting — finally — comes with the sense that she feels as if she owes him now, though. To make it up for her dreadful pancakes with Daniel’s wife’s cooking, which was always amazing. To make up for the week of unforgivable ignorance. To help them move past the ill-thought-out offer of a baby. She’s sure he’ll still say no, when she calls him on his lunch break, when she knows he’ll be sat at the counter in that same diner, enjoying that brief moment of time away from paperwork. Their lunch breaks line up, those rare and all-too-rare moments when they have time to relax, the tension in their shoulders owed entirely to their morning workloads melting away at the soft sounds of the other’s voice.

His voice is pleasant, like it always is; Marcus Pike’s voice is like serenity to her, all gentle and familiar, and, this time, he sounds amused when he answers the phone. “Well, this is a nice surprise.” His voice crackles through the phone. The reception in the diner is terrible - it’s the only thing he ever seems to complain about - but she can still make out the sound of the smile in his voice. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Good afternoon to you, too, Marcus.” Coraline hums, shoving the last of her laundry into the washing machine, her phone tucked between her shoulder and her ear. “I’m calling with an invitation.”

“An invitation?” He ponders, musing over the idea. “To one of those glamorous celebrity parties you’re always telling me about?”

She scoffs. “Oh, you wish, Pike. It’s an invite to my brother’s for dinner. Incredibly glamorous, I know.”

There’s silence on the other end of the phone for a few moments. She almost regrets asking. She does when he replies. “Are you sure?” He questions. “I’m not sure-”

Coraline nods as if he can somehow see her through the phone. “I’m sure,” she insists, “Besides, Daniel and Kimmy want you to come.”

“Coraline, I don’t know-”

“Marcus, don’t make me beg.” She chuckles, but it’s a nervous chuckle. She knew he would say no; that’s why she hasn’t asked him, to avoid this awkward conversation between them when he was uncomfortable and looking for a subtle way to turn her down without hurting her feelings. “Please.”

There’s another pause as he lets out another muffled laugh. His tone is teasing when he speaks again; she can practically see the smirk as he sips his coffee. “And what’s in it for me?”

She bites the inside of her cheek, stifling a giggle.

She could think of a lot of ways to repay the favour.

Cora pushes through the onslaught of entirely… inappropriate thoughts, especially to have about your best friend and offers up the most innocent of offerings, though her voice slips to find that low, rumbling register reserved only for the discrete. Mundane words tipped in something intriguing. “I’ll never make you pancakes again.”

“Deal.” He snaps far too quickly through the phone.

Her mouth falls open. “Marcus,” she gasps, mock offence in her voice.

There’s silence for a moment. “Sunshine,” Marcus calls out through the static, like he’s sure he’s actually offended her. Like he could ever do that. “I thought your pancakes were great.”

Even a lie sounds like the truth coming from his lips.

“Damn right they were,” she insists.

When she lies, even when it’s laced with laughter, it sounds like one. She’s glaringly aware that’s a complete contradiction, given her job.

“Pancakes- real pancakes, diner pancakes- on me for a month.”

“Tempting.”

“...Two months?”

“Fine, fine. If you insist.”

The rush of breath that escapes her in relief is so embarrassingly loud, she’s sure he can hear her. She’s glad he’s not there, watching her, so he can’t see the wide, uncontrollable, entirely tooth-filled grin that splits across her face; she’s sure she looks maniacal, sat in her trailer on set, covered in thick dustings of fake mud from that morning’s scenes.

She’s never been more thankful for the solitude of a phone call before.

“I do insist. I’ll pick you up at five.”

Amusement, again, peeks through in his tone. She’s sure he’s eating pancakes — those blueberry pancakes with mountains of ice cream — because they’re the only thing that makes him happy like this, especially on a heavy workday. “In that super-fancy car of yours?”

She’s had her car for twelve-years. But it’s even older than that, fixed up by her father in his garage for what seemed like years. It’s an old run-down black Camaro from the seventies that she’s had since she was sixteen; far too trusty and sentimental to let go of, driving her cross-country from LA to DC without a hitch those six-months ago. It lives in the private parking lot down the street from her apartment complex, tucked away, out of use most days, because the traffic of DC is far too heavy in the mornings and it’s easier to walk or take the Metro instead. Weekly nights spent at Daniel’s on the opposite end of the city gave her an excuse to pull her car from its designated parking space and navigate the busy streets to the comforting hum of the engine.

Coraline knows Marcus loves her car, as much as he jokes about it. It’s evident in the way his face lights up when he sees her sat there, parked down the street outside the FBI headquarters; his smile illuminated by the harsh street lamps overhead, cutting through the darkness alongside the bright nearby office lights and flickering neon signs that cast stained glass shadows on the sidewalk. He’s watching her as she taps her fingers in time to a song she doesn’t recognise on the radio.

Marcus ducks into the car with a ‘hello’ lingering on his lips and ducks to kiss Coraline’s cheek; it’s a friendly gesture that lingers, not unfamiliar as a display of friendly affection between them, but still swelling that giddy sense of happiness in her chest like it’s the first time.

“I brought the beer.”

Coraline glances over at him warmly as she starts up the car. The engine rumbles to life, almost sounding unhealthy. She reaches over and squeezes his shoulder a little, fingers falling down his arms.

Marcus had insisted he bring something; a repayment for dinner, for Daniel and Kimmy inviting him over. She’d insisted he didn’t need to — neither of them would mind; they just wanted to meet the lead in so many of Coraline’s stories, for real this time — but then he’d insisted that he had to, that his mother would never let him live it down if she found out he forgot his manners and turned up without a thank you gift. So she’d told him to bring beer (not wine, definitely not wine, for Daniel’s sanity’s sake). And he’d obliged.

Not just that cheap beer, either. But the expensive kind, the kind you could only find in certain places if you were looking for it. He’s spared no expense.

He doesn’t need to impress them, though. They already like him well enough, on the basis of Coraline’s endless stories.

“Is what I’m wearing okay?” He questions as he smooths his hands over the front of his suit jacket. “I didn’t have time to change.”

He’s still wearing his work clothes — somehow still relatively undisturbed even after hours of the paperwork he’d been half-complaining about to her the night before — yet he still looks great. He’d probably look great in just about anything. Coraline looks entirely underdressed next to him; just blue jeans and a white shirt, and the thin golden pendant her mom had given her the night before her wedding hangs against her chest. She doesn’t wear it much anymore, not since the divorce. But Marcus had seen it the other day, while he was waiting for her to finish getting ready, perusing the expanse of her drawers, intrigued by the jewellery that hung from a stand. He’d said it was beautiful - with the delicately carved bird in the middle, surrounded by flowers - and she found herself reaching for it every morning since.

She’s not sure why. She just likes to wear it, now.

“You look great.” As always.

He scans what she’s wearing, casual and, as the wheels being their customary groan when she sets the car in reverse. “It’s not too much?” He’s shuffling awkwardly, hands tugging at the lapels of his suit jacket. Is he nervous?

She watches as he moves, shifting slightly in his seat; she’s watching from the corner of her eyes, half her focus on Marcus, the other on pulling out onto the busy road. He’s staring straight ahead, out at the car ahead of them, like the license plate is somehow the most interesting thing in the world right now. His brows are furrowed. The air between them is thick with anticipation and it’s like something has changed; for good or bad, she’s never sure with them anymore, not these past few months, but his hand is gripping his knee and somehow everything seems heavy again.

He’s met Daniel before, it’s not that. Briefly, sure. But that couldn’t be it. He’s usually so relaxed and laid back, especially around her, never worried about making a joke or goofing off. She doesn’t like seeing him like this.

She reaches over and squeezes his hand; he steadies himself and tilts his head towards her. Her smile is warm and bright and comforting, and the gentle brush of her fingers over the hand that grips his knee relieves the inexplicable anxiety that has strangled him from the moment she’d invited him to dinner. He doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know what it means, what any of it means. Why things are suddenly so different between them after six months of being nothing but friends.

Why he, for some godforsaken reason, thought suggesting they have a baby together was a good idea.

Did he really want that?

Either way, he’s pretty sure Coraline doesn’t. Not with him, at least.

Cora hums, eyes dropping to herself and the wrinkled jeans she’d fished out from the back of her wardrobe. “Least you made an effort.”

…

Daniel Meyer is seven years older than Coraline. He’d always been fiercely protective of his younger sister when they were growing up; not in that abrasive, overbearing and destructive way, the way when your life is governed strict and rigid, but Daniel Meyer didn’t take kindly to people hurting his sister. Growing up, he helped her deal with things - the bullying in high school, the heartbreak of her first breakup - so it only seemed fitting that, when she’d moved to D.C., the same place he’d called home with his family for eight years, that he would do the same. That’s how their weekly family dinners were born, from his insistence to help his younger sister settle into her new home, in a new city she barely knew.

For the longest time, Scott Meyer was public enemy number one to him. Sometimes she wonders, now that it’s all over, the divorce is final - now that he’s out of her life for good - if he still is. Or if they’ve really all moved on like she thinks they have.

The second they arrive at his front door, greeted warmly by the smell of pie and a grinning Kimmy, wearing an apron and slightly flustered, looking just as welcoming as always. Her blonde waves - the waves Coraline has always been so jealous of - are pinned up haphazardly out of her face, half-spilling down her back from the clip that tries to hold it in place.

“Good evening.” Her voice sounds like a song, light and sweet, and her smile is even wider than usual as she glances between her sister-in-law and Marcus, who stands a little behind her, radiating that familiar confidence that Coraline is used to. The half-hour drive had relaxed him enough that, now he’s met with Kimmy’s friendly face, he’s the one that’s comforting her, with a gentle hand on her back and the silent reassurance that things will be okay.

Coraline is mostly worried about him. She's still not entirely sure he wants to be here. She doesn’t blame him.

Kimmy leans forward and kisses Coraline’s cheek in greeting, the usual gesture.

“This- well, you know Marcus.” Cora ushers towards her best friend beside her when she pulls back.

“Marcus, of course!” Her face lights up even more. “I’ve heard a lot about you since we last met.” Kimmy’s tone is amused. Her eyes waver towards Coraline, a knowing look in her eyes.

“It’s great to finally meet you, for real this time.”

Kimmy’s eyebrow quirks up at Coraline for a moment, the hint of a smirk as Marcus introduces himself, that same FBI Agent-trained surety tipping the edges of his voice, before she finally ushers them inside. It’s starting to get cold; the evening chill is creeping in from the river beside the house, reaching out towards them. Coraline is glad she’d tossed a coat onto the backseat of her car before she’d left and Marcus tugs his suit jacket tighter around himself. “Come in before you both freeze to death.”

The house is alive with the joyous yet shrill screams of children. Coraline’s nephews, to be exact. It always is. Every night. Every week she turns up and they’re running around, playing whatever game they deem fit that evening. Half the time, Coraline gets pulled into their games, whenever she’s not helping Kimmy in the kitchen (which isn’t often, because she’s hopeless at it). Of course, today’s no different.

The two of them are darting around the living room, screaming bloody murder as they wear themselves out; Finley, the oldest, is chasing Elliot, his curls falling haphazardly over his eyes. She can’t tell what they’re yelling about - she never can; it’s just a tangled mess of screamed words - but Elliot is giggling so much that he has to stop every couple of minutes to catch his breath. Finley stops with him, pulling himself from their games for a second to wait as they both regain their composure and carry on. They wear themselves out before dinner and then everything seems to go off without a hitch.

Cora hangs her coat on the hooks by the door and kicks off her sneakers, and Marcus follows suit with his jacket and dress shoes. He looks to her for guidance, that immediately understandable hesitation of being in an unfamiliar house, and this silent agreement settles between them as she sweeps her way into the living room. Her footsteps were light; so light, in fact, that she reached her nephews without disturbing them, startling Elliot when she scooped him up in her arms and spun him around. He complains at first, ducking his head away as she tries to kiss his cheek, letting out the most dramatic and exaggerated noises. Eventually, he gives in and curls his arms around her neck, pulling her close for a second, before he starts to kick again, restless in her arms.

Finley takes to wrapping himself around her right leg and suddenly the three of them end up sprawled out and giggling brightly on the carpet.

Marcus watches from the doorway. He thinks she’ll be a great mom someday. It’s the little things she takes in her stride.

“Hello to you too, Cora.” The low, amused voice of Coraline’s brother, Daniel, comes from inside the living room.

“Hey there.” She’s still giggling. She can’t help it. Finley and Elliot unhook themselves from her and each other and resume their endless laps of the couch.

Daniel stands over her with raised eyebrows. His tie has long-since been discarded and he cuts a casual figure as he cradles the youngest of the Meyers, Piper. She’s only six months and the smiliest baby Cora has ever seen. Usually, she’s asleep by the time Coraline arrives, either cradled in her father’s arms or tucked away in the crib upstairs; today, her legs are kicking back and forth and her hands are fisting into his dress shirt. She’s restless - she knows sometimes that she is, that when they finally cradle her to sleep, it’s best that they leave her or risk jolting her awake for the rest of the night - but she’ll let her wriggle around in her arms for hours if it means catching up on the time she’s missed with her niece all those nights she’s been asleep.

“I brought Marcus.” Cora points towards Marcus as he leans against the doorframe, watching her with fond eyes. She tilts her head back to look at him; he’s smiling and she wants to reach for him. She reaches for Daniel’s extended hand instead, pulling herself up from the floor. She groans uncomfortably, her back aching a little. “Marcus, you’ve met my brother, Daniel.”

Coraline reaches out for her niece; that brooding feeling swells bright and burning again when she takes her, cradling her close into her chest, and she can’t help but glance up at Marcus as Daniel moves to greet him - just barely acquaintances but familiar enough to avoid those awkward initial introductions. He’s watching her, still, as she says ‘hello’ to her niece and gently rests her cheek against the top of Piper’s head. It’s like they’re both wrapped up in that moment where it’s just the two of them - all too fleeting, cut short by Daniel’s greeting and the persistent shouting of children - but it feels lovely. Even if this moment is all they’ll ever get.

Coraline savours the moment with her niece because it’s rare and often fleeting; her, Daniel and Kimmy’s schedules are crammed tight with work and unavoidable commitments and that weekly dinner is the only time each week they can spare to see each other. If Piper is asleep, then Coraline won’t get to say ‘hi’ to her niece. It’s an unfortunate consequence of their careers.

“That’s Elliot-” She points her finger at her smallest nephew. “-and that’s Finley-” Then to the tallest of the two. “-and this… this is Piper.” She bounces the tiny baby lightly in her arms, turning her body so Marcus could get a glimpse at the small smile that pulled at Piper’s lips as her small fist grabbed at Coraline’s shirt.

She’s already told him about them all before. He knows their names. But this is the first time he’s ever met the kids. And it’s somehow maybe the most terrifying thing he’s done in a long time, including that one warehouse shootout his team found themselves in a few weeks earlier.

He feels overdressed and a little ridiculous, just stood there, looking like a lost puppy in the entryway, in his suit and tie. Unsure what to do with his hands or his eyes, or what the hell to say to cut through his quiet. He usually brought a change of clothes to the office if he knows he has somewhere to be but, somehow, in his blind panic at the idea of meeting the family, he’d forgotten to grab anything to change into. And that ease in meeting new people, that effortless skill he’d built up over years of practice, the perks of the job, just seems to have melted away the second he stepped into the house behind Coraline, under the well-meaning scrutiny of Kimmy. This is all normal for her - this weekly routine she’s fallen into - but it’s unfamiliar territory for him.

It almost feels like something it isn’t. Meeting the family. That point in a relationship when you first realise things are serious. Only this isn’t a relationship. And he’s already met Daniel and Kimmy before, even if it was briefly, and while he was working and distracted with planning a stakeout. And Coraline. Always Coraline. But something about her smile just commanded attention, back then - it still does - even when she tries to blend into the background. Once he noticed her. Sat alone at an empty conference table, comically-oversized name badge pinned to the front of her dress, her lips curling up a little as she sipped the sour FBI coffee.

Everyone else had passed the glass-walled room without even a second glance.

He, on the other hand, was convinced he’d just seen a ghost. She’d almost startled him, breath leaving his chest. An utter cliche.

Marcus had recognised her face from TV - though, admittedly, he wasn’t really up-to-date on pop culture, definitely lingering a couple of decades behind, age and time catching up on him, spare time buried beneath a mountain of paperwork to distract himself from Teresa and the unfamiliarity of D.C. - but he always remembers thinking she was pretty. Really pretty. But he always finds it a little embarrassing how much she a hold over him that day, how he’d had to take a second to psych himself up, talk himself down from that nervous ledge he was staring over, before he even thought about entering the room.

It’s weird, looking back, thinking how much has changed. But the changes keep coming, thick and fast, and sometimes it becomes less and less obvious what they are anymore.

“Marcus.” Daniel reaches out a hand for him to shake. He shakes it graciously and says his hellos. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

That’s the second time he’s heard that today. Coraline rolls her eyes a little. It’s not the first time she’s heard it, either. It almost makes Marcus laugh but then she smiles again, half-concealing a grin, and he forgets what he’s thinking about for a moment.

But then he wonders what she tells them about. Whether those stories are good or bad, whether they paint him in colour or in black and white.

With Coraline, he figures it’s probably the brightest landscape of technicolour, regardless of who she’s talking about.

“I’m glad Cora finally asked you to come.”

“Well, you talk too much. I didn’t want to bore him.” Cora shrugs, her full attention on Piper.

“More like scare him away.”

He’s not sure she could ever scare him away.

“Finley is terrifying,” she admits with a giggle but she seems distant. She looks up to raise an eyebrow at him again. Her words are slow, almost drawn out. “I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to get out while you still can.” It’s meant to be light and joking, and Daniel laughs at her words. Given the way she’s looking at him, he’s not sure.

She just keeps looking at him like there’s no one else around.

She can’t help it. She keeps trying. It isn’t working.

“I’m so sorry about that,” Daniel insists as the boys rush past Marcus; he has to step out of the way to avoid them, smiling as they manoeuvre around him and race out of sight into the back of the house. He smiles fondly as they pass. “They’ll calm down in a second.”

“You hope they’ll calm down.” Coraline jabs her older brother in the ribs playfully. He chuckles as lightly as he can but it's obvious he’s tired; his shoulders slump and his eyes linger closed a little longer than normal, Coraline notices. He’s been working flat-out at his gallery every day, then running home to help with the kids. And Piper is a restless baby - difficult to get to sleep which means that, if she’s asleep when she arrives, she can’t say hello for risk of waking her up - so, unless Daniel or Kimmy are holding her while the house is still alive and humming around her, she refuses to fall asleep. “I think-” She looks towards Marcus. He’s inched closer into the room, now, but he’s still lingering like he needs to be invited in. “-you’ll just have to get used to it.” She hums.

“I’m still not used to it and they’re my kids,” Daniel grumbles, almost to himself.

“Piper seems okay with it.” Marcus points out. He watches as his best friend cuddles the tiny baby close to her chest.

Piper’s looking up at Cora with the brightest eyes. They’re Coraline’s eyes - Daniel’s too, he assumes - that light emerald green that sparkles beneath the warm living room light. Her mouth is in an ‘o’ shape, fascinated, as she stares. She looks utterly transfixed by her aunt’s face as she carries on their idle, gentle conversation, lightly bobbing her up and down, cradling her softly to sleep. Her eyelids were drooping, sleep gently pulling her in. She’s humming gently, whenever she’s not speaking; Marcus isn’t even sure she realises she’s doing it. That it’s just some subconscious instinct inside her, telling her to sing to the baby so she can sleep. She’s drawing gentle circles on her back through her onesie. Slow, idle circles that slow the wriggles and the kicking of his legs, lulling her off to sleep ever-so-slowly.

It’s like she’s a natural. She knows exactly what to do every time; with Piper, with Maisie. It’s like second nature and there’s this even brighter glow, brighter than usual, when she settles into the role. She takes it all in her stride and seems to forget the world around her just for a moment.

“How do you do that every time? Can you come and do that every night?” He jokes. But he doesn’t seem to be entirely joking.

She hums. “Perhaps-” She rests her cheek against the top of her head as lightly as she dares without disturbing her. “Perhaps I’m just a superhero.”

The yells of kids echo through the house, the hammering of feet pounding against the wood floor. Kimmy’s muffled exasperated calls for quiet come from the kitchen, falling on deaf ears as the boys continue to charge through the back of the house.

Coraline catches her brother’s gaze. “Go and help.” She’s noticed the way he’s been watching his daughter anxiously, worried that she won’t fall asleep through all the noise and excitement and the gentle hum of Coraline’s made-up song. “I’ve got her,” she insists.

“Are you sure?”

Piper is slowly drifting off to sleep, even despite the noise. Just at the warmth of her aunt cradling her and the gentle hum of her sweet voice lulling her asleep. “I’ve got her,” she repeats. “Go and help Kimmy.”

Daniel’s shoulders slump in relaxation. He mouths a ‘thank you’ as he jogs from the room, calling out to his sons to stop them from charging around, insisting that they wash their hands and settle down for the sake of their sister.

Now, it’s just Coraline, Marcus and a half-asleep Piper left alone in the living room.

The tension in the air is thick and heavy for a moment.

“Marcus, you’re staring,” she points out. She’s not even looking at him, just can just feel the weight of his kind gaze and it sets her heart racing at a hundred miles an hour. “I’d let you hold her-“ She says as he steps a little closer; now Daniel is out of the room, he’s relaxed. It’s like, without him there, he can pretend it’s just the two of them and Piper curled up content against Cora’s chest, even despite the yell of children’s voices and the unfamiliar surroundings. “-but, if I did that, we’d never get her off to sleep.”

“It’s alright,” he whispers, “I think she’s happier with you.” He settles beside her.

Coraline’s thumb brushes over Piper’s cheek and the baby smiles a tiny smile, eyes still close and fisting her hands tighter into the white material of her shirt. There’s a blissful silence that settles between the three of them — just for a moment — when she looks up at him beside her, watching the pair of them sway gently to a seemingly silent song. The weight of the moment engulfs them like a tidal wave.

“Marcus-“ she breathes out, barely loud enough for him to hear. But he does, in the relative silence, and the way she says his name rips the air from his lungs, like the first time she’d surprised him the day they’d met. Her green eyes are wide and wild and she’s looking between him and Piper like they’re the only things left in the world.

They could do it.

He knows what she’s going to say, if she had the chance. If Daniel hadn’t returned, calling out to them that dinner was ready.

They could do it. He knows they could, she knows they could. They could have this fleeting moment for as long as they both live. Their own little version of paradise, together. No matter how terrible the idea seems to be, they could. But Coraline knows she can’t stay in that world forever. It’s temporary and, as much as she wants that, all day, every day, for herself and not through someone else, she knows she can’t let herself get too in over her head.

Still, Marcus really does think she’ll be an amazing mom.

...

After much persuasion — and the promise of candy after dinner — Finley and Elliot finally settled down long enough for them to eat. Coraline had set Piper down to sleep in her crib upstairs, lingering perhaps a little too long to marvel down at her only niece, wondering what it would be like if she was looking down at her own daughter.

She knows it’s a hopelessly bad idea. That the feelings will catch up with her and pull her under again. Sometimes she just can’t help it.

She returns with that fake smile Marcus has become a pro at noticing. She looks wistful, longing in her eyes, disguised by the small smile that takes over her face when she slides into the seat at the dinner table beside him. She smooths out her shirt and jeans, wrinkled from the baby. Another smile, an assurance that Piper is okay and sleeping soundly upstairs, and the conversation moves on to mostly idle chatter, and Daniel asking Marcus questions about himself. Coraline keeps shooting her brother glances whenever he asks a new question that almost seems too personal. He doesn’t mind one bit, though.

Marcus finds Coraline’s free hand under the table and squeezes at some point. She doesn’t want him to let go.

“Auntie Cora?” Finley asks, leaning his chin on his hand to stretch across the table. His questioning call of her name breaks through the idle conversation they’re all having, like he’s demanding all their attention, and not just Coraline’s.

It steals a moment of quiet between them all.

“Nephew Finley?” She replies, mimicking his stance and the curious, furrowed-browed expression on his face.

“When are you going to have a baby, like Piper?”

It’s a loaded yet completely innocent question on his behalf. He’s merely a curious five-year-old with no ill intentions, and no reason to believe it’s anything other than a normal question; Coraline doesn’t even flinch, even when Kimmy scolds her son sharply and insists he eats the rest of his dinner. Though, Marcus still sees the flicker of hesitation in her eyes. Instead, she just smiles and laughs that brightly enchanting laugh, tilting her head to the side in response to her nephew as he sinks back into his chair and pokes at his potatoes.

“Well, I don’t know,” she replies truthfully, “Soon, maybe.”

Marcus almost thinks her eyes waver towards him but it’s so quick that he reasons that, perhaps, he’s seeing things.

“Soon?” Daniel catches up with her words. “You seeing someone?”

“Oh-“ Coraline swallows thickly. She shakes her head. “No, no, not at all. I’m just- optimistic, I guess.”

“I’m sure there’s someone out there for you,” Kimmy poses.

Coraline hums. Marcus doesn’t see the way her gaze trails towards him. “I’m sure there is.”

...

The rest of dinner passed without any more questions on the matter, Finley’s attention switching towards Marcus instead. He was persistent, firing questions at him across the dinner table like he was leading an interrogation, but Marcus kept answering just as enthusiastically as the first time. He’d skirted around the facts a little - it wasn’t exactly a great idea to tell a child, seemingly without a filter, that you were an FBI agent - but the whole exchange had been wonderful. Coraline was sad to see it finish when Kimmy announced the boys could have dessert and they'd leapt from their seats to race towards the cookie jar.

Marcus had offered to help Kimmy wash up as a thank you but she’d brushed him off, and, eventually, he’d resigned to the living room with Daniel. It had taken Coraline months to convince Kimmy that she should let her help clean up, there was no way she would have accepted Marcus’ offer immediately.

Instead, it’s just Coraline and Kimmy, working in tandem to clean the dishes, while Daniel spends time with the kids after a long day at work, and pulls Marcus into their conversation like an old friend.

“I’m sorry about Finn. He’s-” Kimmy shakes her head as she sets another plate down in the drying rack. “He’s been going through one of those... phases lately.”

“It’s fine, Kim, truly.” Coraline sets a couple of dry plates down on the counter and turns to smile at her, before carrying on her job. Sometimes Kimmy jokes about how ridiculous it is that they use so many plates since Piper was born. “He’s just curious,” she insists. “And he makes everything a little more colourful.”

Kimmy chuckles. “That he does.” She washes down another plate. “So, Marcus is great.” She hums, changing the subject towards her with a quirk of an eyebrow and a small, knowing smirk on her face.

Coraline smiles. Though, it’s more to herself than Kimmy. “He really is, isn’t he?”

“Are you two… y’know… is there anything there or-?”

“Oh, no! No, no. We’re just-” Friends. “Just friends.”

“Well-“ She quirks an eyebrow at her sister-in-law. “-maybe you should? Just see how it goes. One date at a time.” Kimmy’s suggestion is as innocent as Finley’s question over dinner. She doesn’t understand the weight it holds. And she doesn’t expect her to, anyway. They’re close but just barely close enough. “Things might surprise you and it’ll do you good to get back out there again after, y’know-“

“No, we-” She shakes her head and turns to finish putting away the plates in the cabinet. In the quiet, she hears Marcus laugh from the living room. It’s one of those whole-hearted laughs, when his head lulls back and his eyes screw shut and crinkle at the corner. She wonders which one of them made him laugh like that, or what made him laugh like that. She hopes Daniel hasn’t pulled out the picture albums; he’s worse for that then their parents. But, since Daniel had made his fortune as an art buyer, eventually to the point he’d made enough to buy his own art gallery, a year ago, Coraline should have known that he and Marcus would get on. They had a lot in common. She’s so glad he likes him, though she can’t imagine a reason why he wouldn’t. “Friends. Friends.”

There’s another silence and she can feel Kimmy’s eyes burning into the back of her head. She turns to see the tail-end of a raised eyebrowed glare, amusement tugging at the corner of her lips. “Well, you never know unless you try, Cora.”

“There will be no trying,” Coraline insists, jabbing Kimmy in the side with her nail. She grins and lets her blonde tresses fall over her shoulder. “Of any kind. He doesn’t see me that way.” She finishes.

“Do you see him that way?”

Another pause.

“No.”

Maybe that’s a lie.

Maybe Kimmy knows that.

Maybe Marcus knows that.

Coraline isn’t sure whether she knows that, though.

“Sure about that?”

Coraline scoffs and turns to continue packing dried, clean plates into the cupboards. “You’re worse than Dan, sometimes.”

“Oh, I take offence to that.”

“Shut up and finish the dishes.” Coraline chuckles, crossing her arms and scowling at the lack of crockery left to dry.

“Just don’t write things off so quickly,” she insists, “It might surprise you.”

...

Daniel and Kimmy had tried to persuade them to stay for drinks late into the evening. The boys were shipped off to bed at the usual time, complaining that they wanted to stay up instead, as usual. But Marcus has work in the morning and Coraline has a long string of interviews; the idea of a late-night sounds less than ideal, her eyes already stinging at the idea of staying up any later than they had it.

Instead, they’d make their excuses and leave, ducking away into Coraline’s car with an exhausted groan. The boys had run wild right up until they went to sleep, nagging Coraline and Marcus to play with them every five minutes, even as Kimmy and Daniel insisted that they settle down and get ready for bed. It’s still late when they leave, though. D.C is eerily quiet as they weave through the roads, small crowds of people scattered through the repeating streets of suburbia.

The car ride home is silent of their voices. Not that uncomfortable silence, from before, when things had been awkward between them and neither of them were sure where the other stood. But that kind of satiated, happy and, admittedly exhausted, silence that pools over them. The low hum of the car engine and the radio is persistent in the space between them. Marcus keeps stealing glances over at her as she drives; he can’t help it, but he doesn’t think she notices, her eyes far too focused on the road ahead of her. And, if she does, she doesn’t mention it. Just keeps letting him glance over at her as the street lights illuminate the gentle angles of her face.

He’s glad she never mentions anything. He’d be too embarrassed if she did.

Instead, she’s lost in the music. That blissful flicker of emotion that crosses her face when she hears a song she likes, when her eyes light up at the sound of one of her favourite songs. Her radio is always tuned into some old rock station - he has no idea what it’s called, it’s usually just a continuous loop of different songs cut with the low gravelly voice of a man who sounded like he’d smoked one too many cigars - and most of the songs are the same songs she’s playing on her record player when he arrives at her apartment and she’s dancing around the kitchen while she cooks. He recognises a lot of them from his college days, songs he used to play with his band. It makes him feel old, sometimes, when she tells him they’re songs she spent her teen years with, even though there aren’t too many years between them.

It’s I Don’t Wanna Miss a Thing that plays now; she’s a sucker for those objectively-cheesy rock ballads. They’re her mom’s favourites, too. And, maybe he won’t admit it, but Marcus has heard her favourites enough to count them amongst his, now. Maybe he just likes the way they make her smile. Coraline is humming along, her fingers drumming a steady rhythm against the top of the steering wheel idly as her eyes follow the road ahead. Every so often, a flicker of neon tints her in colour when they pass a takeout, the only things still open and busy. The curve of her profile and each curl of her hair is highlighted in red.

It’s these moments of distracted bliss, when everything seems to exist without a care in the world, that he likes the most.

It never lasts long enough.

He insists she just parks in the garage she usually uses, by her apartment building, and he’ll walk her home. She protests - because of course she does - offering to drive him all the way home instead, but it’s dark and even in this quiet, well-off part of town where the streets should be safe, you never know who might be lurking. Maybe it’s the things he’s seen and heard of in the FBI - everything he’s seen during his training, heard through whispers and stories in the office - but sometimes he can’t shake the simple action of making sure someone is safe.

It’s still silent between them as they near Coraline’s apartment complex. That short two minute walk down the quiet, tree-lined street that sparkles with chains of fairy lights. It’s lethargic and lingering, each step heavy with the weight of something that echoes through the quiet neighbourhood.

“Cora, I’m sorry.”

It comes out of nowhere and it worries her. And Coraline has absolutely no idea why Marcus is apologising to her. As far as she’s concerned, he hasn’t done anything wrong. At least, not that she knows of.

“For what?” She questions, brow furrowing up at him as they walk. Their hands keep brushing but she doesn’t have it in her to move her hand away.

“I had no right to drop the baby bomb on you like that,” he admits. He reaches up to scratch the back of his neck uncomfortably. When his hand drops, his fingers brush against her knuckles. “I’m sorry if I made you feel trapped. It was a terrible idea. I should have thought-“

“Yes,” she blurts it out before she can stop herself. She’s not entirely sure she’s thought this through. But she can’t help it.

“Yes, what?”

“The offer.” Her whisper is loud in the suddenly-stifling silence of the street. “If it’s still on the table- yes. I’ll have a baby with you.”

“Coraline-” He gulps and stops dead in his tracks. They’re outside her gate, now. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“And you won’t.” Coraline insists. She steps closer to him, sea-green eyes staring up at him with heavy expectation. He’s the one that suggested it. He’s the one that had laid in bed until the early hours of the morning, losing precious moments of sleep as his brain swam with questions, wondering whether he should suggest this to her in the first place, or if it was an awful idea. But, somehow, he can’t seem to convince himself that this is a bad idea, that he should just let her down easy, now. It’s seeing her with Piper, seeing her with Maisie, seeing how she lights up around them.

If he can make her that happy, every single day, why the hell would he turn that opportunity down?

Besides, he’s pretty sure it would make him equally as happy. He’s thought about having kids since he was just a kid himself. And god knows the world seemed to have it out for him when it came to love, things aren’t happening any time soon; he can’t really think of anyone better than Coraline to have a baby with.

And, as much as Coraline knows how recklessly stupid the whole idea is, she can’t bring herself to want anything more or less than this. Than him. “It is a terrible idea, y’know?” She finds herself insisting, blinking up at him with those beautifully-wide eyes.

“Truly awful.”

“And there are a hundred different things that could go wrong.”

“Hundreds.”

“But-“

“Maybe we should… try? Maybe just for a little while. See what happens.”

“Maybe we should.” He exhales long and deep out of his nose. “Maybe…” He tilts her chin up towards his with one finger and suddenly he’s kissing her. His fingers brush her jaw, curving up towards her ear and brushing into her hairline at the nape of her neck. Even the soft touch of his hand against hers as they walked was driving her insane but this, this is on another level.

It’s more than the first time they kissed. Less of a brief touch of lips, more of a wave of relief flooding through them both, unfamiliar feelings surging up inside them. This kiss is full of urging anticipation. She’s pulling him closer to her before she can stop herself, their chests flush, lips and hands strong and insistent against each other.

The fumble to her front door seems like the most practised thing they’ve ever done. Familiar when it shouldn’t be, even as they bump into things on their way.

taglist: @wheresthewater

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