#he'd love the heat and the greenery back home

[mikichko]

sweet

wc: 446 words info: reader insert, second pov, no use of y/n a/n: going to try and write every other day to try to get my creative juices flowing. we'll see what happens though! enjoy this homage to my mountains

“i like it here”

your gaze raises at his soft murmur, watching as he pulls a mango free from it’s resting place on the branch. wordlessly, you press the hilt of the knife into his unoccupied palm.

you don’t need him to tell you. the feeling consumes him when he’s here on the mountain. it manifests itself when he closes his eyes as he turns towards the breeze, letting it caress the curves of his face. he explores the forgotten footpaths. like a lover returning home, hoping to commit it all to memory again. his midday dips in the river, clothes forgotten on the shore as he lets the cool water love him the only way it can. even now, as his eyes flitter across the landscape, drinking in every detail as if committing it to memory, you know that the mountain has overtaken him.

he turns the fruit over in his hand, gently prodding it’s sides before gliding the knife through it’s flesh. you watch the knife slide out, the juice of the fruit barely beginning to gather on it’s edges. Aone sticks the knife into the trunk of the tree, picking up the newly separated mango piece and sinking his teeth into it.

a low groan of satisfaction leaves him, bringing heat to your cheeks. you watch a blissful expression overtake his face, brought on by the explosion of sweetness. in a slow pull, his top teeth scrape across the inside of the mango, pulling with it the meat of the fruit, his bottom teeth following suit on the outer skin of the mango. small drops of juice escape the sides of his mouth, you catch them with your thumbs.

“i can tell. you eat mango like a local now.”

you steal a bite from the other untouched end of the sliced fruit. he glows at you, cheeks red from the constant tropical heat. the blush enhanced by the way that wayward strands stick to his forehead with sweat.

you stroke his cheek, enamored by a man who makes you feel so much love through the single act of eating a mango.

“what if we stayed here?”

your eyes close, instinctively shaking your head slightly and huffing out a low laugh.

“jiji would kill me. both of us, actually. and then find a way to bring us both back so that he could do it all over again.”

aone huffs, slicing off another piece of the tender fruit. “he’d understand if he were here.”

you hum, leaning on Aone and wrapping an arm around him, “we could bring him”

he looks down at you, eyes softening around the edges, “i’d really like that”

[funnel-webbed-au]

Crash

"Hey, you've reached Yang Nezha. I'm sorry I can't come to the phone right now, and if your name is Bai Xian, have patience. I'll be home soon."

Nezha's pre-recorded message played through Bai Xian's phone for the fourth time that hour, and the serpent nearly dropped her phone. He knew his partner would come home one day, but when, he didn't know. The snake could still almost feel the Deity's hands on their hips, and the desire for it to be real once more made their head swim.

When was the last time they'd spoken? She didn't remember. All they knew... was that their mind was starting to crack at the very foundations in the absence of the man they held so close. His presence equalized their temperatures. Xian's heterothermia left them cold at night and in the morning, while Nezha's internal flame was hard to satiate.

The absence of that tore at the seams of Bai Xian's sanity.

There was nothing in this world that could result in the kind of grief, in the kind of isolation that made the Viper Lord a puppet to her own emotions, to her own insanity, to her darkest desires and wishes. The snake could feel his pupils contracting with every passing second, sharpening into horrible slits as the hue of her scales shifted from navy blue to indigo in a matter of seconds.

Bai Xian crushed the ceramic mug in her other hand, then set her phone down. As he raised his hands to his veil, he swallowed harshly, closing his eyes in the calm and the quiet of the palace lounge. As the garment hit the floor, Xian's teal hair fell down over her shoulders, long and wavy, reminiscent of her favorite monster.

Medusa.

It felt fitting, how Xian had been deemed a monster in the wake of someone else's wrongs against them. It was fitting how now, Xian took the role of the Devourer, of a beast that would stain the sea red and gold with the blood of the Dragons and Gods alike who had ruined her, and who had started everything.

The ones who had broken her darling.

And now, the ones who refused to let them see him again. Xian took in a deep breath, conflicted. Nezha wouldn't want this. He'd get onto them for this, he'd scold the serpent for this. But he wasn't here now. He couldn't stop them.

~ Memory ~

Nezha walked in the front door to the Yang palace, sighing heavily. He was immediately beseeched by the greedy, urgent touches of the serpent that adored him so dearly. As she set her hands on his waist, he simply sighed, relaxing. What harm would they do, after all?

"Sshah... I missed you, darling lotus." Xian's purrs were almost intoxicating to hear, even more so the way they wrapped their tail around Nezha's, ever so gently. They were always mindful of what he was willing to do, how far he could go. Nezha smiled gently, wrapping his arms around the shorter immortal's shoulders. He was always here when he needed him.

"...I missed you, too, Xian." The way his voice was softer than velvet against the serpent's ears, that gentle, quiet intimacy... it was something they'd sorely missed. The ancient Deity set his head on the Viper Lord's shoulder, resting there while she admired his figure. He was strong, yet lean and lithe.

But he wasn't just a pretty face. Xian flicked her tongue out as the Deity pulled back to look at her, then set his hand on the serpent's cheek. They leaned into the touch, savoring how gentle and reserved he could be at times like this.

Nezha pulled his hand away, then set his forehead against the Viper Lord's. That intimacy without any heat to it, without anything beyond the connection between their hearts, it made both of their hearts sing. The trust they shared, the bond everlasting between them, it wouldn't be dying anytime soon.

~ Present ~

Whatever the hell they had, Xian loved it, Xian loved Nezha. His absence chipped away at their sanity, and as the serpent opened the grand double doors to the palace garden, a dreary air settled over the greenery.

All while Xian's facade slipped.

"If this is the will of the Gods... I will bleed them dry."

With those words, the serpent disappeared into the world beyond the palace gates.

[getitinbusan]

Locked -

Taehyung 

Smut with Taehyung in Paris what could be better? 19+

Happy Birthday Taehyung! You are my sun my moon and all of my stars.

Part of the The Juis Suis Fou de Toi Universe.

Artist Tae AU. 4213 words.

While convincing his girlfriend he should paint her, things get a little sexually abstract.

Contains sex (M/F), Oral (M) Mutual Masturbation (M/F), Swearing, Slight Dom Tae, OC is insecure. Do not be fooled before the read more, there is no cheating in this fic. 

"We're almost home, please don't make me carry you."

Yeontan looked up with big eyes as he defiantly sat in the middle of the sidewalk. Crouching down to his level in defeat you tore a piece of your pastry off and began bargaining.

"It's strawberry your favorite, you can have some if you just stand up."

He let out a little bark seemingly in agreeance with the bribe and stood, tail wagging frantically.

"Tannie," Taehyung scooped the excited dog into his arms while placing a kiss on your cheek.

"Camille, this is my girlfriend Y/N and this," Yeontan wiggled in his arms while licking his face, "is Tannie."

"Oh, Hi."

Shocked you took in the tall gorgeous blonde who accompanied you boyfriend. Why Taehyung was walking around the streets of Paris with her you were unsure, and honestly not very happy. 

"It's really nice to meet you Camille."

Suddenly feeling self conscious you pulled your coat tighter around yourself.

Taehyung, noticing the sudden shift in your mood wrapped his arms around your waist.

"Camille is helping me with the gallery opening. We were going to grab some dinner before we started. Do you want to join us?"

Your mind raced, what do you do?  He hadn't invited you in the first place so obviously you'd be intruding.

If you stayed he'd be looking at you side by side, comparing Pomme to Pomme De Terre. But, if you left they'd be alone, getting to know one another or worse. Maybe they already knew each other better than they should.  

In either scenario your insecurities would be winning. 

"Tannie's getting pretty tired and I was going to stop at the Butcher to grab us dinner." Your eyes fell on his searching for guilt and found nothing but adoration. "But I guess you've already got plans so I'll just catch up with you later." 

He passed the dog back to you, a new look of concern on his face.

"Okay, I guess I'll just see you at home later," he kissed your cheek. 

"Bye Tannie, bye Y/N."

The woman smiled and looped her arm through Taehyung's as they walked towards the cafe. 

"That doesn’t mean anything right Tan? It’s just a French thing I’m sure.” You must be going crazy standing in the street talking to your dog. “So, how do you feel about stopping for some wine?"

You frowned at your four legged companion and for once he seemed sympathetic offering a head tilt and a whimper.

"Don't worry, you can have his Steak." 

Walking home in a daze you searched your memory, had he told you about this? Taehyung liked to work alone, surely you'd remember him mentioning he'd hired an assistant. 

Your feet had suddenly become as tired as your mind. The blue mansard roof of your apartment peeked through the greenery of the blowing trees urging you forward, calling you home.  

Rounding the last corner, the Pont Des Arts had been covered in gaudy yellow caution tape. In the hour and a half you'd been out, workers had begun pulling off rail sections of the love locked bridge.

You felt dizzy, was this a sign? The lock that you'd placed on it signifying your commitment was being taken away. Helpless you stood watching thousands of couples promise's to one another being disassembled.

Pulling your phone from your satin lined pocket your first instinct was to text Taehyung. 

Y/N: I can't believe it, they're dismantling the bridge and taking away our lock 💔 I'm so sad Taehyung, It really meant so much to me. 

Tears rolled down your cheek as you reevaluated the message. Instead of hitting send you deleted and replaced your words

Y/N: The bridge is under construction, maybe take a different way home later. 

You hadn't heard him come home and had no idea how late he'd been out. With sadness and worry getting the best of your brain, sleep seemed like the only way to curb your anxiety. It had been quite an effective method until you found yourself wide awake tiptoeing through your house in the wee hours of the morning. 

The worn floorboards creaked underneath your slow step, the vintage wood was cold to the touch of your bare feet. The old apartment was drafty on the best of days but 4 am carried its own specific type of chill.

A shiver ran up your spine, perhaps one of Le Marais famous revolutionary ghosts had joined in on the quest to find your boyfriend. Or maybe it was just the ominous feeling in the pit of your stomach that the universe was trying to tell you something. 

A faint light glowed yellow under the warped door at the end of the hallway and the sounds of Thelonious Monk's piano drifted through the air the closer you got. 

The painted metal door handle gave way opening to a wall of heat from the radiators lining the enormous windows. 

"Go figure I'd find you in the warmest room in the house."

He was shirtless and seemingly debating the fate of the canvas before him.  With his paintbrush clenched between his teeth he turned, a huge smile warming you instantly. 

"Why aren't you in bed?" He set the brush down and walked over to wrap you in his embrace. 

"I don't like sleeping without you, you're the only thing that keeps me warm in that freezer of a bedroom." 

You stood on your tiptoes to place a peck on his lips. 

"What are you working on? Is it for the gallery?" 

He sighed heavily, "Just another Lavender Field I guess. I'm so uninspired. Why won't you just let me paint you, hmm?" 

His fingers splayed over the lace covered small of your back pulling you in tighter. "What are you so afraid of."

"Tae," you buried your face into the crook of his neck. "Isn't the point of art painting things that people want to look at? You should be painting women like Camille not me."

Pressed to his chest you swear you heard his breath halt. He seemed to be choosing his words carefully before he spoke softly.

"Camille is pretty but there is absolutely nothing unique or inspiring about her."

He kissed the top of your head before tugging on your chin to make you look at him.

"You are the most beautiful woman in the world, but you are a terribly uncooperative muse." 

"I don't want to be Tae, I'm just afraid" 

"What is there to be afraid of? It's just you and me, If you don’t like it I'm the only one who will see it." 

"That's it though, what if…" a tear slipped from your eye, "What if you don't like what you see, what if painting me makes you see all my flaws. I can't stand looking in the mirror for 5 minutes and you want to immortalize my every imperfection on a canvas." 

His face was soft and serious, the lights from the city streaming through the large windows across his honey skin. 

"Sweetheart, how do I make you believe me? I never want you to be uncomfortable but I think if I can show you how you look through my eyes you'll understand what my heart sees every time I look at you.”

Stepping back from him you nodded. Sliding the thin straps off your shoulders you stepped out of the white lace puddle that now lay at your feet. 

"Okay." 

His face lit up like he'd received divine inspiration.

"I have an idea." 

He scurried for a palate, squeezing colors on it like a man possessed. Rummaging for the right brushes he returned presenting them to you like a cat who'd dragged home a mouse. 

"Trust me?"

You nodded, "I do." 

Loading his brush with paint you stood waiting for him to lay the first stroke to the oversize canvas leaning on the wall beside you. 

Raising the tool to his mouth he exhaled a warm breath over it as if trying to take the chill off.

"I've never seen this technique before" 

"It's because I've only just invented it." 

He ran the paintbrush down your torso sending a shiver from head to toe. 

You gasped, "You're not just painting me... you're literally painting Me?"

The biggest smile overtook his face, "You said you trusted me." 

Trying to remain still and not ask questions you watched him work. Diligently mixing colors and trading brushes his design slowly revealed itself. 

"Are you painting me as starry night?"

He stepped back to admire his work. "Like the stars, you guide and inspire me. I think it captures your spirit." 

He shifted the canvas so it was flat to the wall. 

"Come over here." He reached for your hand, "Are you ready? I want you to press yourself against it." 

"Here?"

Sliding in close behind you he raised your arms into position, holding them up.

"Like this, right here." 

His breath felt hot on your skin and your nipples hardened with his words. Gently he used his body weight to press you onto the canvas. 

"Now step back to me slowly." 

Pulling back, the paint had transferred to the canvas. It was stamped with starry breasts, stomach and thighs, it was you and it was beautiful. He dragged his lips down your shoulder as you stood looking at it.

"Now let's do the right side." 

You repeated the process but this time you could feel him growing hard against you. His hands trailed down your sides and his lips moved warm against your ear.

"You've never been sexier."

His rumbles of admiration set your insides on fire. 

"Taehyung I want you."

All the gentle brush strokes and touching had left you aroused aching for him to fill you. 

"Do you need me to take care of you baby?" 

He slid his cloth covered cock over your bare ass, grinding, teasing, slowly torturing your needy cunt. 

"Fuck you until you're screaming my name?" 

Sliding two long fingers deep inside you he held them there motionless. 

Leaning over you, dominating, he growled into your ear.

"Show me how you like it, fuck my fingers like you want to fuck my cock."

You clenched immediately around his digits and he laughed, "that's my dirty girl, now use me to make yourself feel good." 

Throbbing wet and desperate you used his hand to pleasure yourself. Harder and deeper it felt good but it wasn't him.  

"Tae, It's not enough I need your cock."

He snickered again, "why is that, maybe you should tell me." 

He reached his free hand around to pinch your nipple. 

The truth was, nothing could satisfy you once you'd had him inside you. He was huge and perfect and he knew how insatiable you were for him. 

"I need you to stretch me, wanna feel you against my cervix fucking me so hard."

You sounded whiny and it flipped the switch inside him from teasing to wanting instant gratification. 

Pulling his hand away from your breast he undid his pants and kicked them away. His erection fell against your ass as he pressed you back to the center of the canvas. 

"Right here, arms up for me." 

You did as you were told as he took a stance behind you lining himself with your entrance. He could be the most generous gentle lover when needed but right now you both wanted something animalistic and dirty. 

Thrusting hard and deep your whole body slid in an upward motion streaking the paint vertically onto the canvas. 

"Fuck."

It was pleasure, it was pain and it was satisfying to your core. 

"Is that enough for you?" His large hand feel heavy against your ass. 

"Harder." 

"Such a greedy little girl you are." 

Another thrust and you were seeing stars. Splayed across the canvas your cheek dragged through the midnight blue acrylic.

Trying to desperately catch your breath your mouth hung open panting the words fuck me and faster while he pumped furiously into you. 

His fingertips traveled from their grip on your hip to the protruding bud engorged with arousal that lay starved for attention between your thighs. He pressed and rolled your clit softly in contradiction to the rough pounding your pussy was taking. 

"Tae."

His name moaned out of your mouth and it was the only signal he needed to know he'd done his job. He slowed his hips and pulled you down impaling you onto his cock until your walls convulsed around him. He held you there, still for a minute until your senses had come back and you were able to stand on your own. 

His mouth hung open in a grin while his erection still stood hungry for more. 

Pulling the canvas from the wall he laid it on the ground. 

"I think this painting needs some pretty little knee marks on it."

"Show me where." It was your turn to tease. 

He pointed where he wanted you to kneel and shoved his finger into your mouth.

"Right there, and right here," he stroked your tongue with his thumb. 

He pulled his finger away and rubbed his tip around your lips. 

Opening up wide for him he gently began fucking your mouth. Head was always a challenge given his size so it was never rushed.

Gingerly you wrapped your hands around him stroking the length that didn't fit in your mouth. His head was thrown back, eyes closed as puffs of air heaved from his chest in pleasure. 

He was getting close, his now careless thrusts began making you choke around him.

"Fuck, sorry," he pulled back.

You kitten licked and sucked at his tip while he wrapped his hand tightly around himself and began rubbing. 

You looked up at him from the position on your knees. His beautiful body was covered in paint splatters everywhere it had connected with yours 

"Fuck Tae, I love watching you touch yourself." 

"Yeah?" he took a long stroke thumbing the tip. 

"Yeah," you could feel yourself getting worked up again. 

"Lay back. "He stood over you, "Can you see how beautiful I think you are now?" His hands wandered between his legs and he rubbed his balls with one while he resumed stroking with the other. "How sexy I think you are?" 

His words washed over you, arousal peaking you nipples. 

"When I can't find inspiration I imagine you just like this and I masturbate thinking about your perfect tits." 

Your pussy was pulsing at the thought of him in here clearing his head by milking himself. 

"Can you touch yourself for me? Give my imagination something to use next time I'm stuck in here?" 

You nodded, breath heavy in anticipation of cumming again for him. 

"Stick your fingers in your pussy for me." 

You did, moaning instantly. You were sensitive, every nerve was lit like a fuse ready to explode. Pumping your fingers in time with his strokes you were both unravelling quickly. 

His exasperated breathing got louder signaling his immanent release. Picking up speed he came in warm droplets that landed on you and over the canvas on which you lay. 

So turned on watching him you finished your own orgasm mere seconds after he did.

Opening his eyes looking down at you shocked he smiled, "Did we just do that?" He held out his hand to help you up. 

"Yeah, I think we did." you blushed.

Grabbing a clean drop cloth from the shelf he draped it around you as you both stood looking over the painting. 

"It's really not bad, I can still make out the important parts. The way the stars smeared looks intentional like their shooting through the sky." 

Laughing you shook your head, "It's definitely an abstract." 

"As are you," he turned you to the mirror. Painted cheeks, wild hair, dried yellow stars flaking off the skin of your stomach.

"Let's go out!” He abruptly declared. “I want to see you all messy and fucked out with the Eiffel Tower as a backdrop." 

"You're crazy Taehyung, What will people think?" 

"They'll think they're in Paris and that an artist and his muse just made wild passionate love in the wee hours of the morning because they couldn't stand to keep their hands off of one another."

He grabbed his coat from the corner and tied the belt tightly around your waist. 

Placing his hands on your cheeks and cradling your face his lips pressed and lingered against yours.

"They'll think, that must be what true love looks like and they’ll all be jealous."

Taking leisurely steps across the bridge the quiet of dawn was only broken by the water lapping beneath you. The absence of the locks amplified the little wakes and you tried to mentally record them as one of the many new memories you'd made tonight. 

Coffee in one hand and Taehyung's in the other. He pulled pieces of chocolatine from the bag tucked under his arm and fed them to you as you walked.

"I don't think I'm ever going to get over the fact you don't like coffee." You took a big sip. 

"It's strategic. If I had to hold a coffee and the pastry bag I wouldn't be able to hold your hand."

He stopped abruptly lightly jarring your arm. 

"Hey, Did you know that right here, this is the exact spot we first met."

His dark eyes reflected the lamplight just like they did as he looked at you that night.

"You were leaning over the rail," he pointed, "right here, waving to the passengers in the boats."

"Ughh, I was such a tourist." You laughed in retrospect. 

He took the coffee from your hand and set it on the base of the lamppost.

"Go pose for me, I want to take your picture so I can paint you from the night we met, I'll even add the locks back in."   

"It won't be the same." You sighed, "I'm covered in paint, my hair's a mess and all I have on is your trench coat."

"You're crazy if you think I don't remember everything about the way you looked. How that loose strand of hair fell," he tucked your hair behind your ear, "and still falls over your eye.  You had on that green sweater, I remember It was so soft against my fingertips when I reached out to hold your hand.” 

He kissed you and whispered, "Let me have that moment again." 

"You're such a hopeless romantic my love." You smiled fondly and obliged. Leaning over and looking down you re-enacted the opening scene of your meeting. 

After a few minutes of waving to an imaginary boat you turned giggling. "Did you get what you wanted?"

He was kneeling on the ground a few feet away looking pensive.

"Almost."

"Do you want me to do it again?"

His smile grew as his hand reached into his pocket and he held up what appeared to be a padlock. 

"No," He paused. "I want you and I to be locked together forever."

Turning back towards the rails you inspected them closely. "I don't think we can Tae, they pretty much made them lock proof." By the time you'd spun back to face him he was standing beside you. 

His large hand was wrapped around the lock with only little glimmers of metal peeking out.

"But this is a magic lock. I'm going to give you the key and you're going to have to make a decision, just like when we first met." He pressed the lock's pronged companion piece into your palm while simultaneously unfurling his fingers. 

"Marry me?"

Shocked floored, not even an ounce of intuition had told you this was coming. Hooked onto the shackle an enormous pear shaped diamond awaited your answer.

"Tae," your hand shook and tears blurred your vision as you moved to free the ring from it's restraint.

"Of course, Yes." Turning the key Taehyung pulled the lock apart and slid the diamond onto your finger.

Under the lamp, on the bridge in the middle of Paris it was like lightning had struck twice. You stood kissing the man who'd once again changed your life.

"But what are we going to do with the Lock?" The bridge was stark under the first rays of sunrise and heartbreakingly void of the promises it once guarded.

"So superstitious." He put the lock back in his pocket. "You're just going to have to hold on to that key until the time is right."

Fresh paint overwhelmed your senses. Guiding you with his large hands he steered you forward for what felt like forever.

"Is the blindfold necessary?"

"In order to surprise you, yes, yes it is."

He'd been working hard on his new exhibition and it had been kept tightly under wraps. One advantage of sleeping with the artist was the private advanced viewing from the curator himself.

"Are you ready?" he stilled you adjusting your angles. "Hold out your hand."

"Oh, it's an interactive piece?" you chided him. "I agree to do one painting and suddenly we're Marina and Ulay."

Placing something that felt like cool metal into your palm he slipped the blindfold off. 

Before your eyes stood a huge section of railing, thousands of padlocks adorning it. Behind the rail, a life size painting, a girl in a green sweater. Leaning forward she waved, looking happy, as her hair blew softly. Her eyes naïve, not knowing she was about to fall in love.

The words on the wall named the piece, "Locked"

"Tae," a tear fell in awe at his recreation. "You made me look beautiful."

"No mon petite, you make you look beautiful. Do you have your key?"

Lifting the chain from around your neck you held it up for him.

"Let's find our lock. It was closer to the top if I recall correctly."

"There's no way? This isn't a recreation? This is the real bridge?"

He laughed, "I know what it meant to you. They were selling pieces for charity. That's what I was really doing with Camille that day. She's a broker for the auction house."

The memory of your insecurities came back in a flash and your cheeks blushed pink at how foolish the notion of him straying seemed now.

"Here it is!" He crouched down holding it in his hand, your inked initials a little worn but still visible.

Slipping your key into the new lock you popped it open and knelt down beside him. Hooking it through the original it stood out higher than the rest and you both smiled.

"You're stuck with me now, triple locked." He fiddled with your ring suddenly shy.

"I don't need metaphors to know we'll be together forever Taehyung." You kissed his soft lips. "but I really like them."

The gallery had been taken over by a hum of excitement, the air hanging heavy, was full of compliments and bids. Everyone was clamoring for the chance to own a Kim Taehyung original.

You hadn't seen the man of the hour in a while. You'd been kept dutifully in one spot regaling everyone with the romantic story behind the girl waving on the bridge. 

Finally breaking away you grabbed a glass of champagne from the nearest waiters tray and made your way to the back of the gallery. He stood by a painting you'd yet to see with an eclectic looking woman in large red framed glasses. Her bangle bracelets chimed together as she theatrically asked him questions about his work.

Noticing you moving towards him, his face pleaded silently with you to come to his social rescue.

"Ah, the girl in the Green Sweater!" She pulled you into her side grabbing and holding your hand. "Are you also The Reluctant Muse?" she pointed to the secretly cum splatterd piece.

Taehyung held back his smile, biting his lip.

"Yes, I guess I am."

"The abstract way he displayed your body, it's very sexy. You know I used to be someone's muse." She patted the back of your hand. "From the size of this ring I'm guessing you're not nearly as reluctant anymore."

Knocking back your champagne you reached for another, "I'm currently working on lowering my inhibitions."

Focusing back on Taehyung she continued, "I simply have to have this painting, it reminds me so much of my younger days."

He shook his head to reinforce what he was about to say. "Unfortunately this one has already been curated to a private collection." He winked nodding discreetly in your direction.

"Don't be silly, I'll give you $20,000."

You choked on your drink surprised while he reiterated his statement.

"I'm sorry, It's just a very special painting to me."

You had to interject, "Let's not make any hasty decisions."

Taehyung raised a scolding eyebrow, "The piece is simply priceless, I've put too much of myself in it to sell." 

You smirked at his secret admission. "What if," feeling emboldened with confidence you put forth the suggestion, "we make it a series?"

Taehyung's eyes lit up as you explained.

"It'll be one of a kind, just for you madam."

Her bangles declared her excitement as she clapped. "Yes, I love that! But I have two conditions."

Leaning forward you both eagerly waited.

“I want extra splatters, I really like the way they look. And I'm going to need it finished in time for my party next week.”

Taehyung shook the woman's hand and grinned proudly at you.

"No problem, we'll start working on it tonight."

[musedblues]

A Taste Of Honey (Part 2)

summary: A 1920's Deacy au! In which the reader, who comes from a family heavily involved in the American temperance movement, meets John, a bootlegger from overseas.

a/n: Well here it is. I'm fully aware interest may be completely lost in this fic but I'm very proud to have finished it. Im not sure where my writing journey will go from here. All I know is that this has been a very long time comin'... enjoy if you dare!

part 1 - 2

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

"If anything happens, Deacy, I'll have your head!"

Ivan shook his fist from the front porch, illuminated by the light flooding from the opened front door. 

"I'll be fine!" You dismissed, skipping toward the car, still getting used to the sway of the heavy golden dress you borrowed from Alice. 

"I'm talking about my car!" Ivan shouted, correcting you. John let out a laugh at the remark, and gave your brother a nod, while he opened the passenger door, nudging you toward it.

Your brother and his wife had loaned the essentials to send you and John away for the party a man you never met was throwing. It was a small thrill, the prospect of such fun to be had, in comparison to the sickening exhilaration that coursed through you at the thought of spending any kind of evening at John's side. And the fact he'd asked you to. 

The ride was quiet and short, but dragged on with each new glance you dared to steal at the man driving. Both of John's hands relaxed on the wheel. A hint of that deadly smile on his lips. 

By the time you got to where you were going, you'd been so preoccupied with thoughts of the man by your side, that you'd nearly forgotten your plans for the evening.

If you had any expectations, they were blown clear away. Before you was an estate made up of too many windows to count, draped in vines and hanging lights. 

Even the crunch of the gravel that decorated the winding path you entered into sounded oddly elegant.

Inside was a fever dream of all the things you'd imagined on your short journey into the threshold. Across a giant winding staircase and below the shimmering chandelier were people from all walks of life, crammed together to have one grand time. Different music came from different corners and wild laughter filled the gaps, if there were any. 

And before you, John led the way. You couldn't recall the moment your hand found the bend of his arm, or if he cared that you'd reached out to him as he weaved through the crowd. But the grin on his face when he turned back to catch your eye had to be a good sign; despite the way your heart nearly burst at his look. 

John led you past hoards of people and trays of half full glasses. There was only one way to go, further inside the home, but John seemed to move as if he had an idea of where he was headed. Sure enough when the pair of you met the landing of the staircase, the host of the party was there to greet you. 

The host's initial booming hello was focused mostly on John. And without more than a glance your way, the party thrower shuffled John away from your side, insistent on sharing a chat with him on the top landing of the stairs.

You were left to linger, stalling at the base of the stairs and studying the crowd around you. Girls in beaded skirts and men with slicked back hair passed you by flashing well meaning but entirely distracted smiles. 

You'd felt mesmerized enough by the scene to slowly start to drift into it yourself. Reaching to brush your finger across meticulously carved bookcases and daring to take a glass from the extended hand of the first person to smile directly at you. 

You reached for the stem of the blue stained flute, and managed to make your talk small enough for the interested lad to wander far off. But offers kept coming. Glasses of this and that shoved in your face. You accepted the offers more out of respectful politeness than any eagerness to lose your wits. 

By the time you lost track of everyone's kind gestures, and a man was leading you closer to a table decorated with cards and chips, another hand intervened.

John was back, letting his fingers curl around your shoulder and nudging you in another direction of his choosing. Thrilling as it was for you, to have been handled just so by him, you were a little taken aback. 

Funny how after the sips of this and that, you felt steady as ever. But one look from John and your knees threatened to give out and all your cares too.

In the middle of the packed house, with John looking at you that way, you felt like the only person alive. And somehow this all added up to equal your new found courage to speak a little bolder than usual.

"Are you on strict orders from Ivan to steer me clear of any strange attention or do you maybe fancy me a little, John?" You dared wonder. You almost didn't care of the answer. So long as he kept guiding you through this evening with a strong steady hand.

"Both." John seemed to decide, continuing to guide you along. The pair of you had reached the patio doors by now, and the cool night breeze rushed through in perfect time to ease the heat that had rushed to your cheeks at John's response. 

"Let's go see the gardens!" You decided at first glance of the sprawling greenery that surrounded the estate. 

John let you tug him along, darting between couples and groups who'd come to ruin the fresh air with all their smoke.

He followed along, a very good sport, smiling as you pointed out flowers and trees you didn't realize could bloom in this part of the country. As you turned from marveling over a certain rose's colour, John seemed almost enraptured. Maybe not by your subject but certainly by some part of you. His gaze was fixed, and he seemed to bite back a wider grin. And your already lightened spirits seemed all the more weightless as your eye's met his. 

"If you keep looking at me like that, John, I'm going to have to kiss you." You let a small laugh escape, as the foreigners' expressions remained steadfast. 

He'd kissed you only the night before, on your brother's staircase. It was the only reason you felt free of regret enough to lean in and brush your lips against his again. John reciprocated fondly, letting one of his hands creep around the bend of your waist. You never realized it was possible to feel so happy. 

"Did you do that because you've been drinking? Or do you perhaps fancy me a little?"  John mocked your earlier statement, when the kiss died and your eyes locked. 

"Both." You smiled, charmed enough to try it a second time. But this kiss was broken much sooner than you reckoned any kiss ought to be.

"You know I'll be leaving soon. Just a week's more time." John killed the mood with a few words. You glanced to your feet and muttered understanding, noticing his hand still clutched your waist. 

"I just don't want to see you disappointed." John spoke up after a beat of heavy silence, and the words seemed hard for him to piece together, but he spoke them all the while. 

"Then don't disappoint me." You shrugged, glancing back up to the perfectly handsome man, who's smile seemed sad now.

"Come on, then." John said, moving his hand to find your own. "Not even I get to enjoy parties like this too often."

And you let him guide you back inside. You let the sun set on all the pretty flowers. And you let yourself feel grateful for the rest of the evening at John's side. 

///

He rode the train home with you the next day, sitting across the bench from you, and not saying very much. 

You felt the need to chatter at the pass of every few minutes. You got John to ramble a little about the other places he was due to visit in the states. The guy only one more stop at some.fancy hotel after your town, in the big city, next week. Then he'd head home. 

After explaining as much, the man went quiet again. But you couldn't let the silence last. It was as if you didn't work to hold his attention, it would be lost the next time you looked up. Maybe that wasn't true. But you couldn't risk letting John slip away so easily. Not when your heart practically lept from your chest each time his eyes met yours. If it wasn't meant to be, then so be it. But you were going to fight for the chance that you had, while it was still within reach. 

So when the train pulled into your neighborhood, and John stepped onto the platform, you stopped him waving goodbye. 

"Will you be back? To our shop, I mean?" 

John took a step closer toward you with a very serious expression that softened just before he spoke. 

"I wouldn't dare leave before telling you goodbye." He promised, in a low, sweet manner. 

John pressed his lips to your temple for one brief heavenly moment. And then he turned away to hail a cab. 

At least now, in your terrible mix of emotions, something very bright and warm burned within you. And you got to believe, for a moment, that the same reigned true for John.

///

But all was not well at home. How could it ever be? 

Your mother was horrified that you'd up and left for the night without so much as a word about it to her, and to your brother's home no less. 

Her disdain for her first born left you sick to your stomach more and more each day. 

But this was nothing new. You knew to give the woman a showy apology and to stay silent as she confined you to the kitchen table as she lectured about morality. Tomorrow things would be back to her regular sort of unhappiness. 

What really stopped you cold in your tracks that night, though, was the sight of your father stood in the doorway of your room with his arms crossed.

To bring a frown to his face was your greatest fear. For he'd loved you and shown it. And you dreamed of doing good by him every chance you got. As you stalled in the hall and waited for him to speak his mind, you hoped this would only be a reprimand for causing your mother unnecessary grief, for her madness made you all ten fold more miserable. 

"I know you've been with your brother..." Your father nodded with understanding, not looking right at you as he spoke calmly. "But that also means you've been with John. And I don't like that."

Oh. Ivan had warned you this might be your fathers mood. But you'd ignored his warning in hopes it wouldn't have been true. 

"You know John!" You countered, "You work with him! You're telling me you get to work with a man you don't like but I can't see him?"

"He's a fine man. But all wrong for you." 

"You're supposed to be the one who lets me find these things out on my own." You reminded. Your mother did plenty of directing you from day to day. Your father knew of what you spoke and nodded reluctantly, uncrossing his arms and looking you square in the eye. 

"Well not this time. Stay away from John, you hear me? He'll be gone before you know it anyhow." 

Your father rested a hand on your shoulder, giving you a reassuring squeeze as if to ease the blow of his demands. But as he walked back down the hall, the uncertainty that had stormed within you since John left you at the train station, raged wilder than before. 

What a jam... 

///

There was nothing stopping you from returning back to the depths of the coffee shop, the next time Ivan started up his business. 

Your mother was sound asleep, and your father was already there, serving the last of the coffee up top. Once you arrived you knew he'd be cross but unable to march you away. 

So you slipped on your finest dress and twirled down the rickety staircase that led to the party your brother charged for. 

There were already a good deal of friends jam packed into the small basement; dancing to swells coming from the gramophone and lining up to grab a glass from Ivan's makeshift bar. Your brother flashed a grin when he saw you sauntering in, but his smile turned somewhat more into a worried grimace when he saw you march up the man near the end of those overturned book shelves.

So was everyone concerned over your connection with John? Even the man who'd held your interest sort of frowned at the sight of you demanding his attention. 

John had his fingers curled around a glass. You took it from his grasp and the action made the bootlegger grin oh so slightly. But his frown returned after you slammed back the swallow of liquor in his glass- unsure yourself by what had come over you.

"Hey, come on, don't be that girl." Ivan called to you from behind the bar. You couldn't be sure if he was commenting on the way you'd claimed Deacy's drink for your own, or on the way you seemed too eager to get the stuff in your system. 

Before you could snap back at your brother's comment, though, John spoke up.

"Don't worry about it," He insisted in the charming draw of his. "Just pour me another." And as the man who you adored stepped past you to hold your brothers attention, John sort of let his hand brush across your waist. And he left his fingers to linger along your sides as Ivan, disgruntled, poured another for John. 

"Is that all you cut in line for?" Ivan sighed, nodding toward the few people, impatiently waiting to fill their glasses, stood in a row behind John. 

And you hadn't really considered this before your brothers prompting. But at his asking, you were moved to pull out a twenty dollar bill from your coin purse, and demand he give you your money's worth.

Ivan was reluctant, going on for a bit how once your father spotted you here, like this, that he'd surely be disappointed. And you didn't want that, did you? But little did Ivan know, you'd already disappointed your father. And you were determined to get something you wanted tonight, one way or another.

So with a sigh, Ivan poured you a tall drink and informed you were good to come back for a few more, to match your payment. 

So began your evening of ignoring John's worried remarks about slowing down. And as you kept the drinks coming you weren't even sure why. Perhaps it was to test your very own limits. To somehow prove you were more in control of your path than all the others who seemed to have something to say about the direction of your life. 

And damn John, for the way he kept his eyes locked on yours between the distance he silently kept insisting upon. And damn him for helping you find your balance, despite the steps he kept taking away from you. For letting his hands stay secure around your waist, long after you'd straightened up from stumbling.

And damn your father. He had to have been behind John's change in attitude. From the moment you'd met, John had been a flirt. And steadily, his quips kept getting bolder, until the last party you attended. Ivan's rambling about your fathers dislike of your fondness of John had to be what caused him to step back.

And damn your father, for finding you all dizzy in John's well meaning clutch, now. Your dad pointed to the door and demanded you find your way out of this scene. 

"I know you're not taking her back to your hole in the wall you've been staying at, in the state she's in." You father grumbled in a low curse, his eyes searing into John's. You tightened your hold on the fellow, shooting your father a glare all the same. He couldn't tell you where to go or with who. 

"Take her upstairs if ya like. But don't step foot past the alley. I'll be up in a minute."

After a shared look, John moved, pulling you alongside him. You moved,  happily leaning into him, disgruntled by the course of the evening all the while. Even Ivan seemed to shoot you a sorry grin when he noticed you being marched away, from across the room.

The alley was a little cold. But John's figure was warm. And as you followed his lead pausing just beyond the backdoor, you could feel this chance waiting to slip away. 

"You like me, don't you?" You wondered, turning to face the man you'd been so taken with since the moment he showed up at your door.

"Of course." John nodded, and answered so softly and with such care truly felt as though it were melting. 

"Then kiss me, John." 

"You're drunk."

"But we may never get the chance again. One or both of us are about to be beheaded. Either way, that'll make kissing hard to do from now on." You implored, letting your head fall to rest precariously on his shoulder as you finished your plea. You heard John let out a somber little chuckle as he dared to tighten his arm around you. 

And then you heard a shuffle beyond the backdoor, and let out a sigh at the timing of your father coming to ruin everything. 

But instead, the door bursts open to reveal Rita in a fluster. Her usually perfect makeup streaking down her cheeks. At the sight of the girl you'd always admired, a pang shot through your chest. But not immediately for her upset, whatever it was, but because you realized you'd failed to see your friend here all night, until now.

Before you could apologize, or ask what the matter was, Rita sucked in a breath and let out a string of words for you. 

"He was a snitch. He-he told my parents everything." She stammered, wild eye'd. 

"Who?" You begged to know, having turned away from John, but not having totally turned your attention away from his hand still rested on the small of your back. 

"The pastor's son. Cole. He- he said he was alright with this whole thing. But he... He told your mother. She's on her way here, she's-" 

Sound of a car roared closer, and the engine died away, drowning out the last of Rita's warning. For a second, you thought of making a break for it. But then the click of heels on the pavement seemed to count down your fate.

And then she stood there before you. Your mother, dressed to the nines, complete with her usual scowl.

You couldn't let go of John. Your nails seemed to dig into his side on their own accord. The pair of you stared ahead to the woman who gave you life, and kept you from living it all the same. She stood and stared too, almost like she was giving you a chance. And that was the scariest bit of it all. 

As time seemed to pause, John let your name escape him in a nervous breath, like a warning. Trying to alert you that your hanging off him wouldn't help. But there was no way you were gonna let him go now. 

It was then your mother decidedly sauntered up to the two of you, letting her eyes search your from the top of your head to the tips of your toes and back up again. 

When she let out a scof, you realized you'd been holding your own breath. And when you opened your mouth, willing oxygen in, or words of mitigation out, your mother decided what was next. 

Before you could blink, one of her strong hands was digging into your arm, and she was tearing you away from John's gentle hold.

And despite his caution earlier, you could feel John's hand still trying to keep hold of you, as you were yanked away. The sensation of being taken from the man's clutch was horrid, but what was more painful was the feeling of his fingers trying and failing to keep hold.

So when your mother tossed you aside, toward the brick of the coffee house wall, you were hardly affected; not like you'd only just been.

And when you looked up, after steadying yourself and dusting your stone imprinted hands of dust, John was stepping closer toward your mother. He shouted something at her, about how she didn't have the right to treat you just so. But before he could finish defending you, he was shut down.

Your mothers hand flew across his cheek, and the sound of the slap and John's shocked hiss echoed through the alley and caused something vile to rise in your gut. 

You pushed yourself from the wall then, indifferent to the dizziness you felt, desperate to reach out to the man you'd been so fond of; calling his name.

But your mother was there, more sober and more angry. And she halted your mission to make it to your man, digging her nails into your sides and forcing you in the other direction. 

"John I'm sorry, John..." You called past the lump in your throat. That was when Ivan came upon the scene. He darted from the doorway and did his damnedest to block your mothers storming off. 

"You're a monster. Let her go!" Your brother fummed, as your mother managed to storm around her first born, pushing you along. 

"I'm her mother. And I'll do as I see fit to keep my child out of harm's way." Your mother stated, almost calmly.

"You're no mother. You're a walking nightmare. She's not your plaything-"

"Word's won't fix this, Ivan." You said, reminding him that his defying of the woman only ever made her ten times more evil.

"I'll pray for your children, son." Your mother nodded, opening the passenger door of her car, and flinging you toward the bench. "They're going to need it."

You didn't look to Ivan, as your mother drove off. You didn't dare look to John. You only hung your head and cried silent tears while your mother peeled down the road. And the whole way home, she spat vile things about you and Ivan. Her own children. About your father, her beloved husband. And aout John, a man who, since his arrival, had only tried to help out.

You let your tears dry when the car pulled up to the house you'd never really felt at home in. And went willingly from the ride to the door, knowing you would get very far in the countryside if you dashed away now. You'd need a wiser plan. Still, your mother dug her claws into your arm and marched you up the staircase to your room, like you were a girl no oler to know better. 

"Stay here." She demanded after pushing your further into your bedroom, her fist around the doorknob, establishing total control. 

You expected to be banished here. What you didn't expect, however, was the return of your mother with boards to nail against your windows. You might've laughed if you weren't the one being all locked up. Wasn't this sort of thing only supposed to happen in twisted fairy tales? You're life was twisted enough, you supposed.

She left you there, trapped in the space that was meant to be your own, meant to be safe. As you sulked in silence, the memory of your mothers assault on John haunted you. The horrid sound her action resulted in. His gut wrenching reaction, the small hiss, his stalling in the place she put him in. 

And the way he watched you being dragged off, helpless and sorry for you. It was pathetic, the situation you found yourself in. So you let your tears bubble up again and you cried and cried; until exhaustion set in. Tomorrow was a new day....

///

There was a pounding at your door, loud enough to jolt you from slumber.

"Open up!" The sound of your father calling from beyond the hall stirred you fully conscious. In one swift dash you were stood before your door, jiggling the handle, feeling silly for hoping that would work. 

"She's locked it." You groaned. "Do you have a key?" Your wonder was nearly frantic, and so were you- trying still to twist the knob. At the sound of your fathers grumbled cursing, you began to bustle about for some hair pins, but quickly realized you wouldn'tve had a clue to how to finess the tools into working like another. 

Then you heard your mother. She  shouted down the hall, telling your father to get out of her sight, to leave you be. Shouting that you were better off confined. That you'd be locked away until she found the right reformatory to ship you off to. You knew she meant it. You knew she'd send you away without a care of your consent. 

"She's not a child anymore. You can't just treat her like a bad pet who needs training."

"I'm her mother. And I'll be damned if I don't do what's best for my child. I failed the first time. God knows you never cared about either of them like I care." Your mother spat, breaking your heart and your fathers too no doubt. 

Their bickering lasted a while longer, and you spun away from listening in to force yourself to think. There had to be a way out of here, out of this life. There had to be a way to a better world. 

And the best you could do was wait.  Until dinner. Wait until your mother brought you a tray of soup and bread, trading a few put downs before she twirled from your room. And then you checked the time, and counted down the hours to her always predictable nightly routine.

And you waited still, until your bedside clock ticked well passed after midnight.

And then you used a lamp to pry the nails away from windows. You could tell her bedroom light was out by leaning against the sill.

With no time to spare, you tossed a change of clothes in your purse, and the envelope stashed with tips you'd been saving for over a year. 

It wasn't a very long way down. With the help of a lattice panel and the dark of night, you found grassy freedom in no time. Your heart beat heavy as you crept toward the road. It wouldn't be safe, not until the city lights were in view. But your shoes were flat and your hopes were high.

Miraculously, no one stopped you. Not the truck who zoomed by somewhere still deep along the dark country road. Not the school kids on the edge of town, tossing bottles off the bridge. And not the sleepy clerk at the desk of the hotel you raced into. 

"Be here, be here, be here..." You prayed under your breath, hurrying to the room you remembered John booking. And right as you rounded the hall, the door of the room you'd been in search of opened. 

But the squeak of wheels gave away the presence of a maid, pushing her cart of cleaning supplies out into the hall.

"He's gone?" You sighed, stopping at the end of the hall, your feet aching after moving so ceaselessly through the night. 

"Whoever was here left a while ago." The maid stopped for a moment, looking to you with a sorry expression. "Around dinner time."

"Right. Is there a phone at the desk?" 

The maid nodded and wished you luck, and you thanked her for it. You'd need as much as you could get. 

The clerk who was still kicked back, sleeping, startled at your ringing the bell on the desk. And though they didn't seem pleased at your begging to use the phone, they let you.

It only rang twice. 

"Hello?" Your fathers voice was a pleasant surprise. Of course he'd gone to stay with Ivan, in the midst of all this chaos. 

"Dad, Im-"

"Where are you? Does she know you've gone? I'll come fetch you."

"No." You implored, holding up a hand as if he could have seen your insistence.  "No I've phoned to let you know I'm taking the train to the city. I've got to find John before he leaves. And I'm sure of where he is. I've got to try." 

John had told you where he was headed next, on your last train ride together. And you'd felt silly for keeping the details at the front of your memory... until now.

The other line went quiet for a beat. And you'd fully prepared yourself for your fathers disapproval. But then he just said,

"Okay." Your father seemed to realize the weight of your feelings, you thought, by his tone of voice. "I knew you'd get out of there, eventually." And once more, you could tell by his tone he wasn't just referring to the room you'd been locked in for the last couple nights. "Phone us again, when you're safe and sound. I know you will be."

At his blessing, tears sprung in your eyes. You were going to go no matter what. But to have your father on your side made you even more determined to fly out of this hotel, and to the next one you knew John was meant to be staying at. 

///

Booking a train ticket was nearly impossible. And if you had spent much longer pleading with the station, you would have missed the bus pulling up down the block, offering rides in the right direction. 

The couple hour journey was maddening, and thrilling, and terrifying all at once. You were on your way to change your life. No matter what John said, or how he greeted you; no matter if he fell into your embrace or left you in the hotel lobby, you'd never go back the way you'd come from. 

And luckily, you managed to find the hotel John had briefly spoken of, without much trouble. It was the grandest of the business booming on this side of the city. Folks flooded in and out of the revolving doors, as you considered the past set of days that had led you to standing before here with such an erratic heartbeat.

But you only stayed paused for a moment. Your feet were darting inside before your mind caught up with how close you were to the mission at hand. 

The lobby was just as full of people as the revolving doors had been, lines forming near the desk, groups fighting to fit their luggage into golden elevators. 

And though you hated to be the person you'd decided to be, you dashed to the end of the front desk, hoping the clerk would spare you a minute at most. 

"I just need to know if someone's booked a room." You begged to know, shooting sorry looks to the people you'd cut in front of. The clerk seemed to have no patients for you, but miraculously, another set of hands swooped in to help. Some nice older woman flipped through the bookings to find John's name, after you gave it, and came up short.

"What about Deacy?" You hoped all of a sudden, quickly beginning to lose your ambition the longer she shook her head.

You'd done what you could, rudely so. And scurried away so your unwelcome presence would no longer be in the way of things.

And as you sauntered away, giving one last pathetic glance about the crowded lobby, you reminded yourself that it was all alright. You might not have found John. But you were finally free.

And then you pushed through the revolving door. And past your ghostly reflection, you spotted a familiar set of grey eyes. 

John seemed to wait until your gaze registered his own, before spinning around to make it indoors. You ignored the chilly night air and pushed on until you were right back where you'd just started to leave from. 

There he was, before you as real and sure as the sun and moon.

"You never gave me a proper goodbye." You reprimanded through a growing smile. He'd promised to give you a farewell, once. 

"How about a rain check? I've got lot's more important things to tell you, as a matter of fact." The man you'd come to adore smiled then, and offered his arm. You held on without hesitation and managed to follow his lead through the crowd, to the room he'd been staying in.

It was a humble little space, his suitcase opened on the coffee table and a yellow lamp left on by the window. John shut the door behind you with a soft click, loosening the pale blue tie round his neck, as you glanced about the room.

"I came by. Your place, I mean." John admitted, leaning against the closed door, as you turned from admiring the wall art to face him.

"You did?"

And then John said your father had dragged the Brit along, that night he'd knocked at your door. John was outside with high hopes. But your mother had caught your father before you'd even known there was a plan. 

"So you did try to come and tell me goodbye." You laughed a little, kind of glad he wasn't able to. This reality where you'd run to him was much more befitting to the situation, you thought. 

"Well, no." John pointed, not laughing along with you. "I never really wanted to say goodbye."

You stood there, taking in the sight of him. Watching John's brows oh so slightly furrow upward, hope pouring from his expression. You considered the gleam in his eye and the way he slowly seemed to shift his posture a little closer to you. 

"So we haven't got to part ways in a hurry then?" You wondered. Asking more than if you could linger a while longer in his rented room.

John seemed to know what you were asking. He seemed relieved, too. His shoulders loosened as the man crossed the space between you, in no big hurry. It seemed the two of you had all the time in the world at your disposal, now. John took his time, reaching out to tuck away some loose hairs near your ear. And his smile grew steadily too. By the time the guy pressed a kiss to your lips, you'd been wondering if the dawn would be breaking any time soon.

But the longer John went on kissing you, the less you thought of the sunrise. As John enclosed you in his arms, all your thoughts were of the man you'd come to adore. 

And as laid next to him and closed your eyes to the rising sun, you couldn't recall ever having experienced such a bright morning. 

"So you're not too eager to head back home, yeah?" John asked, once you'd both stirred from a restful slumber.

"I think I found a much more suitable place to be." You smiled, referring to the spot you'd settled under John's arm. 

And it didn't take much convincing on his end for you to agree on catching the next boat across the pond. 

///

The other line rang so long you'd almost decided to hang up. Then your brother answered. 

"Helllooooo!" He sang in a chipper timbre, making you wonder if he'd been expecting you at exactly this time, or if he answered everyone that way.

"Well I was going to ask how you were but it seems you're so well I don't have to wonder." You laughed into the receiver. 

The morning was early, and a breeze blew back a sheer curtain, obscuring your view of the grey English morning. 

Ivan spent the next few minutes yaking about how glad he was to hear from you. And you were glad to listen. On your rather spontaneous journey overseas, you were bogged down for a brief moment, at the thought of being so far from your dear brother. But as he rambled in your ear now, you'd never felt closer to him.

Ivan asked how things were. He asked after John, and that mattered so much more to you than his concerns for your well being. And when you had had your fill of the attention being on you, you begged your brother to give you all the details of what happened after you ditched home.

He said your mother was as furious as expected. Said she tried to blame your brother and her husband for your running off. Said she tried to get the police to shut down the coffee house for hosting such an undignified business after hours.

"You should'a seen her face when she found out officer Willard was our most loyal customer." Ivan chuckled. 

"We did have to pay a fine, in the end, so she'd quit her raving. It was almost everything we'd saved away for the baby." 

Your brother sighed. And you cooed his name in commiseration. 

"But my friend who owns that estate, the one who threw that party John took you to," Ivan explained. "He was good enough to loan us a bit of cash to stash away." Your brother said the man tried to give the money away outright, as a thank you to Ivan for helping start up his own speakeasy of sorts. But Ivan was dead set on paying him back, one day.

"Now we can't decide to name the babe after him, or John." Ivan chuckled. 

"And what if it's a girl?" You mused. 

"That'll just have to be a surprise." Ivan said, and just then the line went dead. You called your brother's name with a little hope he'd come back to tell you more. 

But you didn't worry when the line went on buzzing. You'd see him and his darling wife and his child to be, one day. You'd see your father too, if he was still hiding out at your brothers place. Hell, maybe they'd all come over here. 

Maybe you'd build a life with John, in his humble little English flat. You certain felt at home, watching the guy of your fancy stay dreaming as the sun rose. 

John had been kind to you. He'd been your friend when he didn't have to be. He'd let you lean into him, and he laughed at your jokes. He invited you into his world and smiled wide the closer your ship rolled toward London. 

And he'd treated your shoes as if they'd always been stored in the middle of the welcome mat. John opened his space up to you, and asked every night for the first few weeks, if you were happy, if you needed anything more. Your answers were always yes and no. 

And he didn't need to ask for honey in his coffee anymore. You just knew to add a little in the warm cup you'd have ready near the place he liked to sit in the morning. 

It was familiar and it was sweet, and so was John. Maybe he liked honey in his tea, too. And dear God, how you prayed every year from here on out; got to be spent guessing at life alongside the man who'd thrilled you by wondering all your answers all along.

[luescris]

A Silent Road (Sonic One-shot)

Yes, this is a Sonic thing. But believe me, I don't think y'all have seen a Sonic one-shot like this one before. You might be rather intreiged in reading it. >:33

In all honesty though, I didn't know what I was doing when I started this. I just improvised so ye-

There was only so much a super fast blue hedgehog could do in his free time. A lot of things that normal Mobians do usually bored him quickly, too quickly, in fact, and sometimes that very fact bothered him. Sonic loved adventure, loved fighting with that addicting adrenaline rush he would get in near-death situations. Everyone knew that. But when there was no butt kicking to be had, it was difficult for him to find things to do a lot of times. Sure, he loved to take naps, and he would occasionally read a book or two, or simply lay somewhere to stare up at the sky. He’d chat with Tails here, hang with Amy there, have a brawl with a rather easily ticked Knuckles occasionally. When he wasn't doing those things, he'd be out on a run, though even that began to bore him slowly. All of the different cities and countries he'd passed started to feel the same to him. After all, he's traveled around Mobius so many times thanks to his faster-than-normal legs. It was starting to feel a little cliche to Sonic. He felt as if he had seen everything already, experienced all the new places there was to see.

Or at least, so he thought.

He was out on another one of his runs when his options had--yet again--ran out. He enjoyed the wind against his quills, how the world sped by him in blurred colors, but he couldn't help but feel as if… As if something was off. Like he was missing something. He then realized that nothing was in front of him to stop him in his tracks. Usually, there would be a few trees, or cars honking at him, or buildings he would have to run over. But there was just… Nothing. So, out of curiosity, he slowed to a stop to look at his surroundings.

All around him was a silent road.

No cars were on it, and without the sounds, the world suddenly felt quiet in an odd way. He didn't hear any birds, as the only signs of greenery was the yellow grass that swayed on the sides of the old and cracked road under his feet. The hot summer sun behind him beat down on his blue quills as he looked around, blinking. The entire area felt rather old-timey. The road went no other direction but straight for as long as Sonic could see, disappearing into the horizon of the light blue sky. Not a cloud could be seen, though far into it a single bird circled high above. All Sonic could do was stare, for some odd reason awed by the rare and strange place he had found. As he stood there, he realized that this road must have been abandoned for some reason, and wondered why. People were really missing out. A tumbleweed gently skidded across with the gentle breeze.

Then, Sonic felt the pieces click together, as he realized he too was missing out on sights like this. He may have ran through all those cities, but he only very rarely stopped to actually look at them and experience what wonders they had to offer. Not to mention all of the secret and new places he could find in forests beyond. He smiled at himself, placing his hands on his hips as he turned around slowly to look behind him, ignoring the heat.

Smart move, He told himself in his head with a chuckle.

The place was like an old photograph, and he wondered if there were other places like this. Then, out of the blue, he heard a car's engine in the distance, his ear flicking in the direction of the sound with his eyes. He watched as--slowly--something in the distance glinted when the Sun's rays hit metal. For a vehicle, it went rather slow, too. Just out of curiosity, Sonic simply stood there and watched as it approached, and for reasons unknown to him, he never once felt his impatience rise to make his foot tap on the asphalt. He guessed it was the effect of the road. Eventually, the car was close enough so that he could tell it had a white exterior, and while shiny, it did look rather old, as if to match the street, and an old man sat in the driver's seat, whistling to a tune that played on his radio. He only stopped when he had glanced over at Sonic, a smile on his face as he recognized the blue hero.

He pulled his car to a stop beside the hedgehog, shutting off his radio and engine, and raised a hand in greeting. “Why, isn't it Sonic the Hedgehog! Never thought I'd see you around these parts of Mobius.” He chuckled, having a slight southern accent to his voice. “What brings you here, sonny?”

“Nothing really.” Sonic replied with a shrug. “Just got caught up in sight seeing is all. Where's all the other cars?”

“Other cars?” The old man blinked, then understanding flickered in his seemingly ancient eyes. “Oh, ya mean all those other doohickey vehicles. See, this road was closed off a long, long while ago, back before you were as big as you were.” He then chuckled. “Why, I remember a time when we didn't have you, or that Eggman around. The first time ah heard o' you, you were so small it almost seemed impossible such a young thing could do so much. I watched you grow, though, and it was something.”

Sonic shuffled his feet awkwardly, scratching the side of his head. He wasn't used to people talking about when he was younger. Just how old was this man? “Er… Yeah. Anyway, about the road. Why'd they close it off?”

A dark look crossed the man's face. “Well… There was a lot of crashes and accidents that would happen here. So much so that people began to think that it was cursed, or haunted. For a while, it was this road that had the most amounts of accidents in this state. People began to tell stories about it soon after, sayin’ that they would see ghosts and other unexplainable things at night as they crossed, which led them to the crashes. Eventually, it got so bad, to where the government decided to shut it down.”

“All because of crashes?” Sonic scoffed. “That seems odd.”

“Odd indeed. However,” The man leaned forward, a strange glint in his eyes. “This wasn't no ordinary road. Before, it was a large cemetery.”

A chill went down the hedgehog's spine.

The old man sighed sadly, leaning back into his car. “Yes, a darned shame. The company that built over it had no compassion for any of the poor souls. Served them right, tho’.” He looked up and pointed. “You see that there over in the distance?”

Sonic turned his head to follow where he was pointing. At first, he couldn't see it very well, being so far off, but he strained his eyes, and saw that there was a large pile of wood shimmering in the heat waves. He nodded wearily.

“That's the ol’ church that ran it. Shut down right after the road was built. Got ran out of town.”

The blue hedgehog looked back at him. “Why would someone do that? And… How come you're still riding it?”

“Not sure, sunny. Whoever built this road though, better hope they be sorry. As for why I'm on the road, well… I like to reminisce every now and then about the good times. Don't hurt to be a rebel every now and then, don’t it?” He winked slyly. “You of all people should know that.”

Sonic chuckled. Suppose that's true…

A beeping then interrupted, and he looked down at his watch. His eyes widened. “My goodness, look at that. It's high past time ah head home.” He started his car again, the radio being turned on as well, and he turned back to the hedgehog with a tip of his hat and a smile. “Well, it was nice to meet ya, Sonic. You're a rather delightful lil fella.” He held out a hand, which Sonic took and shook it. “Maybe we'll meet again one day. Keep on doin' what you're doin’.”

Sonic grinned. “Will do.”

The old man pushed the stick drive, and went on his way again, continuing to whistle. Sonic watched him for a moment as the car rolled on, then shook his head and continued in the direction he had headed before, though his feet felt as if he was stepping on rather delicate glass. He wondered if the story he had told him was true, and if it was, he made a mental note to not come back here. Just so he could make sure he didn't, “disturb the resting souls” under his shoes. Then he remembered something, stopped abruptly, and turned around.

“Wait!!” Sonic shouted as he did. “I never got your-!!”

He stopped.

The old man with the old vehicle wasn't seen at all on the road. Not where he should've been seen. The blue hedgehog blinked, feeling rather unsettled, and turned around slowly. Instead of starting at a jog, he boosted at full speed, wanting to get off the rather strange area as fast as he could.

Sonic had a feeling he had just conversed with a ghost on a Silent Road.