#i said something along these lines to my fiance and he just snorted and said 'nemo behavior.' like our cat that drowns her toys

[reneesbooks]

sitting here scheduling my febuwhump posts cackling like a gremlin as i imagine the anguish...i forgot how much fun this is :)

[quotemenevervore]

Squishy fic time (Shrunken Manhunt Edition) >:)

@brick-a-doodle-do @da3dm @munchkin1156 @i-am-beckyu im over here now >:)

TW for panic, major character injury, weapons, fear, safe vore

(Nevermore: everyone say thank you squishy for another amazing fic 💚💚)

“You’re lucky Sap didn’t burn dinner tonight.” Karl laughed, wrapping said fireborn in a hug. “He would’ve poisoned us!” Karl joked, pressing a kiss to Sapnaps cheek. The fireborn snorted, grabbing tightly onto Karl. “Yeah, you two are so lucky my evil plan didn’t work, I guess you need to give me cuddles to calm me down or I’ll do it for real.” Sapnap playfully teased, grabbing his two laughing fiances into the bed as they got tucked into the sheets.

“Oh no! Q, what will we ever do!” Karl asked dramatically. “Hurry! Give him cuddles!” The avian responded quickly, wrapping his arms around the fireborn. Karl wrapped his arms around the fireborn as the three laughed together.

“I really love you two.” Sapnap spoke. “Okay, cheesy, get new lines.” The avian muttered with a laugh.

“Yeah well what if I like being cheesy?” “Literally no one asked.”

The fireborn smiled, pulling his fiances in closer. “Yeah, whatever, let’s just head to bed, alright?” Karl curled into the fireborn’s chest, soaking in the warmth.

It was a quiet evening at the fiances as they drifted into sleep.

- - -

The shapeshifter stretched a bit before opening his eyes. He pulled his fiances closer, missing their warmth-Honk!

Karl shot up, the things in his arms sliding out. Where were Sap and Q?! Honk! He looked to his left, spotting a beautiful golden duck, sitting on the bed and honking up at him.

He blinked at the animal before he shrieked and slipped off of the bed, knocking his head against the floor before getting up on his feet quickly. Karl backed up, eyeing the duck before he frantically reached for a book, holding it in front of himself protectively.

He was pretty sure ducks were the scary birds, pretty sure. Or was that swans? He wasn’t sure, maybe it was both.

Something rubbed up against his heels, scaring him enough to trip over it and land on the ground again. The shapeshifter groaned, rubbing his head.

He opened his eyes only to meet another pair of eyes, although these were orange with slits. He whimpered, curling up. Prime, please let this be a dream, please. Karl begged.

The shapeshifter seemed to calm down as a small form squirmed it’s way into his curl. Another form rested on his shoulders. Karl dared to open his eyes again, spotting the duck nestled softly in his arms, while a scaly tail rested in front of his face.

“Oh g–, this isn’t a dream, is it…��� He muttered. He put a hand on the scaly thing on his neck and the other on the duck as he slowly sat up. “Where did you guys come from?” He asked, not expecting an answer. Honk! The duck responded. Karl laughed as he pulled off the scaly form off of his neck.

It was a small dragon. “Oh honk, yeah it would be nice to know where you two came from.” He carefully shoved the duck off his lap as he stood up, walking over to the bed. He grabbed his comm, checking the messages. Nothing. Karl’s fiances had left their comms and hadn’t told him where they were going.

He was alone.

“Where-” He muttered, turning on Sapnap’s comm to check the messages. Nothing. Quackity’s? Nothing.

He dared to send a message in the chat.

KarlJacobs: has any1 seen q or sap

He pocketed the device, opening the door. His gaze wandered to the two animals in the room who just stared at him. “Come on.” He sighed with a smile, “let’s figure out how to get you guys back home.” The mini-dragon lifted the duck up with their mouth, letting the duck sit on its back.

Karl watched as the two scuttled out of the room. The shapeshifter smiled, leading them down into the kitchen. Neither fiance were down there waiting for him. The dragon pushed him along carefully. He laughed, deciding to pick up the two. “If either of you bite me I will put you down.” He said.

He smiled, holding them close. The two creatures ended up snuggling him back, which he was happy for. “I think I’m going to visit my fathers today. If my fiances don’t want to see me again you bet I’m going to go say hi.” He giggled. The dragon seemed to stiffen before curling around the shapeshifter.

His arm fizzled as one of the watches sped up. His right hand formed a finger gun, shooting energy into the center of the room. A portal formed and he held tightly onto the creatures as he stepped through. When he stepped through to the other side the portal vanished.

Karl smiled happily as he spotted his parents' cabin, excitedly running towards it. The door opened before he got there and a figure ran through, embracing the shapeshifter in a hug. “Karl!” They spoke as the creatures flapped to the ground. “Hey dad.” He smiled.

“You never visit! What’s the occasion?” “My fiances left me. And in my defense there was way too much going on in that place.”

The man looked horrified, frantically scanning him over. “I’m fine, I’m fine, don’t worry.” He smiled sadly. “You must’ve been through so much…Come on, let’s go celebrate, hm?” Karl laughed, wrapping his arms around his father.

“Hasan! Hurry and make some lunch, we need to celebrate!” “What are we celebrating?”

“Karl’s home!” The sound of something dropping rang uncomfortably through his ears before he was wrapped in another encompassing hug. Hasan hugged tightly onto Karl. “We missed you so much.”

“I know, I’m sorry…there were just too many wars to be able to hop without consequence.” He muttered, enjoying the hug. His dad smiled and pulled away, letting his papa enjoy his own hug.

When Hasan pulled away, Karl spotted Austin carefully picking up the creatures. “Where did these guys come from?” “Oh, they gave me a heart attack in my room, but I promised to take them back where they belong.”

“Karl…mobs can’t hop.” Hasan explained. The shapeshifter looked at the other, confused. “People, yes. Hybrids, yes. Mobs and normal animals? No.”

Karl looked back over at the creatures, extending his arms to take them from Austin. Honk! He stared confused at the duck before the dragon spit something up and set it on the bird’s head.

His eyes widened as his gaze shifted between the creatures, Austin, and Hasan. “Holy f—.” He muttered. “No, cause holy f—.” He muttered, arms flapping as he handed the duck to Austin.

The duck who now wore Quackity’s beanie.

He didn’t understand what had happened, and he didn’t want to. He ended up pacing the room, filled with anxiety and concern. He’d been with his fiances all day and hadn’t known! He didn’t even realize he had stopped moving, or that he had started to tear up until the dragon–Sapnap, probably–made himself known by curling tighter around his shoulder. The dragon nipped softly at his ear.

“I-i didn’t-how could I not have known-” Karl muttered. Sapnap adjusted himself on the other’s shoulder, clinging to his face. Karl slowly took a breath, dragging it on until Sapnap wiggled back onto his shoulders.

“Hey, relax. It’s okay, do you want to talk about it?” Austin asked softly, stopping the other in his tracks. “I-they-these two are my fiances-I don’t know what to do-” He started rambling before Austin set Quackity into his arms. The shapeshifter started to relax a bit with the comforting weight in his arms.

“It’s okay Karl, I know it’s hard, but you can figure it out.” Hasan spoke up, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Figure-Figure! That’s it! Thank you so much!” Karl cheered. “I-i’ll be back, promise. I just have to go hunt down a god.”

Karl waved to his parents as he quickly reentered his home, pulling out his comm. “If you two say anything I will tie you up.” He threatened the two now sitting on his shoulders.

KarlJacobs: i need every1 with their animals to meet me @ community building :]

Pocketing the comm, he grabbed a few potions as well as Sapnap’s favorite axe. The dragon huffed. “I know, I know. Trust me, I won’t break it.” In return, the dragon lept of his shoulder, quickly grabbing something.

“Come on, we need to go!” Karl spoke, grabbing a book. The dragon jumped back onto his shoulder, refusing to show the shapeshifter what he had grabbed. “Okay fine, keep your secrets.”

- - -

He sighed, pulling himself out of the cart before grabbing the other two. “Here we go.” He muttered to himself, beginning to go up the steps. Karl huffed as he got to the top. “You two can fly, you know?” He sighed as he stood in the community house.

Inside could only be described as chaos.

Birds flying everywhere, water spilled across the floor, and endless noises met him. He quickly became overwhelmed by the noise, dropping down on his knees to get further from the noise. Karl whimpered. Sapnap acted quickly, flapping off of the shapeshifter’s shoulder and letting out an ear-shattering roar before glaring at the chaos.

Tears dripped out of his eyes until something soft bounded up to him. He reached out, petting the soft white fluff. A sheep, probably Puffy. “Thank you.” He whispered, slowly standing up and letting Sapnap perch proudly on his arm.

The only humans he saw were George, Tommy and Niki. Well that was absolutely underwhelming. “You wanted to meet us?” George spoke first. “Yeah! It’s a bit crazy, but hear me out.” He began, smiling as a crow settled on his arm next to Quackity.

“Hey Phil.” He smiled, looking at the bird. “Karl, what he f—.” Tommy began. “You-”

“The crow is Phil! The dragon’s Sapnap, and the duck is Quackity!” Karl explained. “Karl, love, you’re going to need to explain a bit more.” Niki spoke.

“I know. And I don’t understand this enough. But somehow our friends aren’t hybrids anymore. Now they’re just animals. The axolotl! That’s Dream! The hoglin is Techn-” “Karl, you are literally sounding insane. Let’s get you back to bed.” George spoke kindly, approaching the shapeshifter.

“No, no, no, George, I know what I’m talking about, I know what to do please-” “No, you need a break, you’ve been dealing with too much-OW-s—!” George shouted when Sapnap bit his arm. The human frowned, trying to pull him off.

“Sapnap, biting isn’t nice.”

The dragon growled before pulling himself off. “Karl, I don’t normally like to agree with people but you need a break, you are literally sounding insane.” Tommy announced. “I’m being serious! Come on, you need to believe me! You had to have noticed something!”

“Let’s calm down and talk this out, okay? I see what Karl’s getting at.” Niki announced. “What do you mean?” George turned.

“This sheep does act a lot like Puffy, and the lizard acts like Jack. I get it-”

Purpled opened the door before he rowed a boat inside. “Sorry, I don’t have any way to bring them here.” The boat held a fish tank, and inside was a shark. Behind him was a fox, and a dog. Purpled held up a jar filled with goop.

“I’m going to sound so insane, but I swear these guys are actually the Las Nevadas group-” Honk! Purpled blinked at Quackity. “Oh.”

“See! I’m not crazy!” Karl insisted, directed at George. “I know what I’m saying.” A cat slunk into the building next. “How did you find out?!” Purpled asked in shock.

“I found out when Sapnap decided to spit up Quackity’s beanie. And I will not be washing that.” Karl added, cutting out any of the other parts. “Yeah, that works. I could just hear their voices.” The teen spoke.

“Okay, so this is a real thing? Like an actual thing?” Tommy asked softly, eyeing the falcon next to him. “Yep, I just don’t know how to undo it.”

“I think I do.” Karl spoke boldly. “Could you guys move? I need my arms for a moment.” He asked. The three flapped off of him, although Quackity just sat on his head. He pulled out the book and wrote his name in it, slamming the pages shut. He walked outside and dug a hole, pouring lava into it.

“Karl Jacobs.” He muttered, throwing the book inside, pulling out the axe. Everyone else joined him outside just before the hairs on the back of his head stood up. He watched reality morph, a geometric shifting hole formed in the sky. A massive figure pulled itself into reality, staring down at Karl.

“You called?” A voice spoke demandingly. He stood his ground, gripping the axe tighter. “You owe me, XD.”

“I do not.” The being insisted. “Yeah? What about the memory loss? Time travel? The whole ‘gods plaything’? I think it’s about time you do something for me.” Karl spat, staring up.

The duck on his head was trembling, but Karl was too scared to move, to scared to do anything beside talk.

“Fine. Three wishes, Karl Jacobs. And that is all.” The being spoke. “And?” Karl asked expectantly.

“And?” “Undo what you did to my friends and fiances.”

“Fine, that too. It’ll be undone when the clock strikes midnight.” The being hissed. “But I warn you, Jacobs, once you run out of wishes, I run out of patience.”

The being disappeared the same way it came. Karl finally took a breath, shaking. “...Karl?” He fell to the ground, shaking, and finding himself unable to do much more, just staring into the distance. “Karl! Oh g–, George do you have a healing potion?!”

He began to cry, anxiety and fear radiating out of his body. Quackity was padding around him, trying to make him feel better. He was moved awkwardly, head tilted upwards as a potion was poured down his throat.

His leg tingled as he glanced down at it. Long enough to watch Purpled pull the axe out of the limb.

He let out a scream, muffled by the drink sliding through and cooling his insides. George maintained eye contact with him, saying things that he couldn’t hear.

His friend did eventually move before blue liquid splashed just out of his vision. He felt nauseous as he rolled over, finally managing to move all of his heavy limbs. Karl looked up, meeting the massive scaly face of Sapnap. “‘Ey sapn’p.” He managed to mutter. The dragon pressed his nose to Karl’s forehead.

Quackity padded up to him again, sitting down next to his shrunken form. Sapnap glared at Quackity before lifting Karl up by his teeth and resting him on his back.

“Alright, let’s let them go.” Purpled spoke, herding the group back inside. Sapnap nodded and slowly began to lift himself up with his wings. Karl watched as his two fiances began to fly together.

His hands rested on Sapnap’s top horns as the two began to pick up speed. Karl’s head began to droop a bit as he grew more and more tired from before.

The two took a pit stop, landing softly in a nearby tree. Sapnap reached his head back and carefully pushed Karl into his mouth. The dragon swallowed his fiance slowly, letting the tired shapeshifter slide into his storage.

Karl felt safe, nestled into his fiance’s storage. He finally let himself sleep, awaiting whatever would happen when he went to sleep.

- - -

Karl woke up slowly, mumbling to himself. Sapnap and Quackity–who were thankfully human again–laid beside him, curled around him protectively as they slept. The words of XD rang through his mind as he tried to fall back asleep, and he prayed to prime that he would find a way out of this mess.

[theficpusher]

What Happens Next by lululawrence | nr | 5430 “So anyway,” Louis said on a yawn, making Harry yawn as well. “What can I do for you?” “Uhm. Well, I was wondering how a free vacation sounded to you.” Harry knew he had Louis’ attention fully because his voice suddenly sounded much more alert. “I’d say you’re trying to sell me something, because nothing in life is free. However, I am listening.” Or a fic where Harry has to pick up the pieces and ends up on the couples cruise that should have been his honeymoon...with his best friend Louis.

Escape by friendofhayley | M | 7491 A Brooklyn Nine-Nine AU where Detectives Styles and Tomlinson have to come up with a plan to catch the Sony Crusader - Shawn Mendes. Featuring help from Captain Payne, his quirky assistant Niall, and the Zayn Malik.

Whatever Floats Your Boat by larryftnoctrl | nr | 24830 When Harry's mother convinces him to attend his ex's wedding, he must enlist support in the form of his handsome and charming best friend, flatmate and convincing fake boyfriend, Louis. With Louis by his side, the ever present sun and the plenty of open bars, an all expenses paid week long cruise doesn't seem like the worst he could do.

Found My Hallelujah by crimsontheory | E | 34753 As an engagement gift from his parents, Harry and his fiance receive an all expenses paid cruise trip for two. But one week before they're set to sail, Harry walks in on his fiance cheating on him. Newly single, with the cruise tickets in hand, and his bags already packed, Harry brings along his sister instead. And maybe the cute bartender on the ship might just be the person Harry needs to help him put back together all of his broken pieces.

Drifting, Weightless by dinosaursmate | E | 41193 “We’ve been asked to do a gig,” Niall said slowly. “Harry and Liam are completely up for it, I am too.” “Alright. What’s the catch?” Louis asked with suspicion. “It’s, um…” Niall cleared his throat. “So, Juliana was contacted by this themed cruise company, and they want us to do a four-day One Direction cruise.” The words hung in the air as Louis’ right eyebrow slowly crept up and he fixed Niall with a stare. “Absolutely not.” Louis rolled his eyes. “You’re essentially asking me to go on a working holiday with my ex. Stranded on a boat in the ocean for four days.” “Cruise ships are huge! You don’t have to see him in your down time.” --- Harry and Louis are exes with benefits until they're not, and the Mediterranean Sea might just be the perfect place to work through some unresolved issues.

Sail away with me by Star_Henderson | E | 47443 “It’s inhumane putting four blokes in one cabin.” Louis stripped off and climbed up into his top bunk. “And why did we get the smelliest twat on the whole ship and bore of the century?” Harry shrugged. “We clearly pissed someone off along the way.” Louis snorted softly. “Who do I have to bend over for to get us an upgrade?” Harry barked out a laugh. “If only it were that simple.” He rolled his eyes wistfully at Louis. “The only way I’m going to get a two berth is to throw Payno overboard and be next in line for the deputy cruise director's job.” Louis leaned up on one elbow to look over at Harry. “Would you help me weigh his body down so I don’t go to jail?” “Only If I can share your cabin.” Harry shuffled about, tucking the duvet between his legs, sweeping his hair up into a bun and securing it in a band. “I’m not being an accessory to murder and then still having to share with them two, no fucking way.” Or Louis and Harry are part of the entertainment team on board a luxury cruise liner. They hate sharing their four berth cabin with two other guys and would do anything to get a cabin of their own. One drunken night the solution was simple. They'd just get married...

It's a Better Place (Since You Came Along) by phdmama | E | 51866 When Harry Styles, a mid-level talent, Finder, and small business owner, sets off on the vacation of a lifetime with his best friend, Niall Horan, he has no idea the changes his life will undergo over the next nine days. He's got it all planned - there's going to be shore excursions, lounging by the pool on the deck of the luxurious cruise ship, not to mention margaritas. What he does not plan for are the new friends, new bonds, or the mystery from his past that comes back to haunt him, and he certainly hasn't planned for Louis.

You Make Lovin' Fun by homosociallyyours | E | 109915 Harry is a 28 year old travel writer at a gay magazine who gets the assignment to go a lesbian cruise. She figures it's a nice chance to have some fun in the sun, but she's not expecting much else-- even if her partner and best friend are both encouraging her to hook up with someone while she's there. When she locks eyes with a gorgeous silver fox from across the room, she starts to think she could've been wrong. There are lots of things standing in the way of anything real happening with her and Louis, but that doesn't stop them from falling for one another. True love isn't always easy, but they do make lovin' fun.

[sleeperswakewriting]

EMILY, I BEG: GHOSTIE LEVI FOR CHRISTMAS PROMPT❤️

Rivetra Advent Calendar: Day 4

For you, Matri ❤️

From the staring at the sun universe, but can be read as a stand alone! modern AU

Rating: G

��Fuck,” Levi hissed, slamming the rolling pin onto the countertop. The gingerbread mixture crumbled in his hands, and he muttered to himself he needed more water. It had been a while since he baked Christmas cookies, the last time at an office party at Erwin’s insistence so that they could beat the other departments. He opted for something simple, sugar cookies, and despite their lackluster appearance, people were impressed.

He didn’t give a shit about it, but when Petra specifically requested gingerbread men for her office party, Levi set to work as soon she received her text:

Office party on Friday! Do you have some time to make some gingerbread cookies? 😅 I’ll owe you one! 😘 ❤️

It was their first Christmas as a couple, his first as a functioning human since he came out of the coma, and even though Petra reassured him he had nothing to prove, he couldn’t help but want to impress his girlfriend, his doctorate-holding girlfriend. His officemates (Hange) teased him about landing a woman like her, and he couldn’t blame them.

Petra was a wonder, a jack of all trades, and worked harder than anyone else he knew. With the holidays approaching, and Thanksgiving just passed, her workload was full between the end of the semester on top of her regular job. By the time she came home, he was asleep in their bed and she slept heavily when he rose to get ready for work. Their schedules were flip-flopped, at least for now, so any chance to bask in her praise was well worth the labor.

“Shit,” he cursed again and balled up the dough to restart the next batch.

It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas… the radio sang, and Levi idly hummed along while he waited for Petra to return from work.

—

Petra was used to all sorts of aromas when she stepped through her threshold. Sweet, savory, her fiance was skilled in the kitchen, human or ghost. Whatever stress manifested for that day was easily dissipated by the meal Levi had waiting for her, or even better, dessert.

The cacophony of sugar that hit her nostrils, however, was unexpected. Christmas tunes were on in full force, almost unbearably loud, and she hardly recognized her lover in his flour-covered apron.

“What’s going on?” She set her purse and coat on the rack and quirked an eyebrow at the state of the kitchen. Rows of cookie sheets lined their kitchen island, and assortments of cookies were stacked on top of one another inside cookie tins. Petra was sure she didn’t own any, didn’t see any this morning, which meant Levi must have bought them in the interim.

Grin sheepish, “I just asked for some cookies, not a bake sale.”

“You asked for gingerbread,” Levi said pointedly. “Which turns out, I’m shit at. So I made it since you requested it, but I wanted to add others to mask how terrible they taste. Here, try this.” He plucked a powdered half-dome cookie from the top of the oven and stuffed it into her mouth. “It’s a Mexican wedding cookie.”

Petra swallowed down the cookie and it melted in her mouth while the sugar coated her tongue.

“It’s delicious,” she sighed happily.

Levi nodded. “I can’t have you taking half-assed cookies to work.”

“You know my coworkers know you’re making them, right? They all know I brought microwave food for lunch before you.”

He snorted, shaking his head, and made a mental note to buy more Tupperware since Petra stockpiled them between her university office and private practice.

“By the way,” he said, a light blush crossing his cheeks. “I got you a cake. The place is closed on Sunday so it’s early, but we’ll have leftovers. I figured I can’t hide it since it’s in the freezer.”

Petra opened the freezer door and gasped. An ice cream cake.

Tears formed at the corner of her eyes. “I love it,” she exclaimed, racing to hug him and flour puffed into the air.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Happy early birthday, Petra.”

[scuttle-buttle]

WC: 1549

Rated: M to be on the safe side

Tags: domestic, mildly sexual themes but no smut, references to sex, alcohol consumption, mild/moderate intoxication, bad (very good) music, is this a strip tease??

A/N: “Do Ya Think I’m Sexy?” by Rod Stewart is both the best and worst song ever written. I don’t make the rules. I also don’t know how this got so long?

💿

When Niki unlocks the door to your flat he isn't expecting to hear the obnoxiously loud giggles from the other side. You had given him a key to your place shortly after you got engaged. Neither of you had any qualms about moving in with each other before the actual wedding, but you didn't want to give your parents a heart attack. Even so, half your belongings were at his place already.

Opening your front door he sees you and Elena on the couch, whispering and tittering with each other. It takes you a second to notice him standing in the doorway. "Niki! You're home early!"

"Actually," Niki checks his watch, "I'm more than an hour late." He'd had business in the city, so you both planned for him to come by afterwards. That being said, it was going on quarter past 9.

"Oh! Didn't even notice." Both you and Elena snort in laughter, hands flying up to cover your grins. Your exceedingly chipper attitude and flushed cheeks confuse him before he spots the empty wine bottle on the table next to you. Ah - one of those nights. "We were just talking about you!"

"All good things I hope," he says as he takes off his shoes and hangs his coat.

Elena leans in to whisper something conspiratorially to you. Niki is unable to make out what she's said. Based on the reaction and the snickers you give he figures it is something overtly sexual in nature.

She hops up from the couch. "I'd better get going, my sister should be here by now anyway." She leans in to give you a wet kiss on the cheek. On her way to the door she pulls Niki in for a fairly one-sided hug. "Have fun you crazy kids! Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" She tossed over her shoulder, shutting the door.

Niki rifled through the fridge, finding himself ingredients to make a sandwich. "So," he began. "How many glasses have you had?"

"Whyyy do you wanna know?" you drawled out, eyes squinting. The back of the couch makes a good place to rest your chin as you watch him move around the kitchen.

"Because. I want to know how in for it I am tonight." His tone is light, joking even as he looks up at you across the room.

You shrug dramatically. "Just three… or four, maybe."

"Ah," he nods to himself and picks up his sandwich.

It wasn't often you drank this much, but when you did it was always an interesting time. You had only gotten drunk a handful of times since he'd known you, that is, if you could even call it that; you were definitely cognizant of what you were doing. If anything you were just looser than usual thanks to the help of the liquor. Any other person would likely be blitzed after four glasses; you’d told him it was something about being part Scottish that helped you hold your own. Normally Niki couldn't stand when people drank too much. There was something endearing about you though when you got like this. He should've been beyond annoyed, but instead he always found it rather funny.

"And what did you and Elena talk about before I got home?" Home. He liked the sound of being home with you.

"I may have let slip about a certain...ah… incident with the Ferrari…" you finish with a large swallow of wine.

You had an incident with the Ferrari? Niki doesn't remember you being around the car without him. His brow furrows. "What incident?"

"You know…" you wiggle your hands back and forth, gesturing between you. A hiccup punctuates the brief silence.

His concern grows at your lack of answer. "If I knew I wouldn't be asking, liebe."

You let out an overdramatic huff. "Niki!” his name drawn out like a whiny child, “Christ I told her about the sex!"

His eyebrows met his hairline. That incident. He wasn't exactly happy with Elena being privy to that aspect of his life but he figures it could be a lot worse. "Which time..?" he mutters offhandedly to himself.

You jump up, nearly tripping on a fallen blanket and almost sloshing your wine on to the carpet. Catching him next to the couch you push your finger to his uneven lips. "It's alrigh’ though it's our little secret, shhh." You even attempted to wink at him.

Niki grunts in lieu of a chuckle. It's going to be one of those nights.

“Oh! I almos’ forgot!” You spin on your heel and head to your record player. "Look what I bought!" You hold up a new album - a mix of recent top hits. Niki busies himself getting comfortable on the couch while you place the record on the player, cranking the volume.

He finishes his dinner while you groove to the music, wine glass dangling from your fingertips. Your singing is decent, despite the wine in your system. Niki is content to let you have your fun, he even recognized some of the songs from the radio station you played in the car. You are a terrible dancer though, he laughs to himself. He supposes he can’t dance much better himself, really.

A new song began; its funky bass line and smooth rhythm exciting. You threw back your head and released a throaty chuckle. Swaying your hips side to side, you saunter over to Niki. He watches as you shimmy your shoulders to the beat; pointing your finger at him as you move. When the chorus begins you sing along in a sultry voice, hands raised to the ceiling, wiggling your hips towards the floor. You give your best attempt at bedroom eyes as you sing and dance for him.

"If you want my body and you think I'm sexy

Come on, sugar, tell me so.”

Niki chews his bottom lip in amusement as you dance. Seeing your glass almost slip from your loose grip, he leans out and plucks it from your fingers. You hardly notice the absence, continuing your performance.

“If you really need me, just reach out and touch me

Come on, honey, tell me so."

Looking at your fiance over your shoulder, you begin to unbutton your shirt, sliding the open collar over your arms to hang on your elbows. The tops of your breasts exposed, you shake your ass to the music in his direction.

Niki rubs his thumb across his mouth to quell his smirk. “What are you doing, schatz?” It took him a few more seconds to break his eyes away from your uncovered skin as he asked.

You hum, “what’s it look like I’m doin’?”

“Like you’re trying to seduce me or some bullshit.” He can’t hide the amusement in his tone.

“Is it workin’?” You don’t stop moving.

Niki will admit you are oddly sexy right now, even with your horrible dancing and overexaggerated singing. Your breasts are nearly falling out of your brassier as you dance and there is a flush to your skin that reminds him of when you make love. But he just cannot get past how utterly ridiculous you look - and what the hell is this song?

"If you want my body and you think I'm sexy

Come on, honey, tell me so.

If you really need me, just reach out and touch me

Come on, sugar, tell me so.”

You pull the sleeves from your arms and toss the garment at him with a waggle of your brows. “Do you Niki? Do you think I’m sexy?”

“Of course.” He licks his lips, deciding to play along with your little game. His resolve not to laugh would soon crack.

“Alright then.” You slide your hands up the skin of your torso. Your legs do little kicks as you walk to the beat, gyrating your pelvis in a circle.

Niki can tell you are getting tired by how your movements slow towards the end of the song. Here comes the crash.

With the last notes of the song you fall into his lap, his arms bracing your descent. You sigh, your breathing labored from the dancing and alcohol. A low hum vibrates in your throat as you make yourself comfortable draped over him. His fingers leave indents where they hold around the bare skin of your waist. “Was it good?” You trail your fingers up his chest and look up at him from under your lashes.

“What, liebe?”

“Are you sedued… se.. seduced?” you correct.

Niki nods to appease you and your efforts. “Hmm, very much.”

You nuzzle into his neck, his cologne and the scent of motor oil making your head spin. “Good… think I need you…”

Softly, Niki says “and I think you need to go to bed.” You nod as enthusiastically as you can manage in your current state, understanding him as wanting to take you to bed. He lifts you in his arms bridal style, walking you to the bedroom.

Placing you in bed and pulling the covers to your chin, you don’t have the energy to protest when he doesn't join you. When Niki returns from the bathroom in his own sleepwear not two minutes later you are already snoring. He lets out a gentle chuckle before joining you in bed to sleep.

Tag list: @ay0nha @apparrio @livvyshmiv @fictionlandslanddreams @vinylrosess @typical-bistander @ntlmundy @mymagicsuitcase @anteroom-of-death @somethingthatsaysbubbles @lieutenantn @multiversemarielle @trashbin2 @whatawildone @metalbreakfast @laura-naruto-fan1998 @greeneyedblondie44 @godidontevenknowwhat @marchingicenotes7

[searchingwardrobes]

Ivory Runs Red: 4/6

Just look at this cover art by @cocohook38 !!!!! Isn’t it amazing? I just can’t stop staring at it. She is so talented and spent so much time working on this, please head over to her blog and give her some love. 

This chapter is sort of a bridge chapter (no pun intended) where we begin to discover connections between all the characters. Belle especially is tied to Emma in a surprising way. 

Massive thanks again to my beta @demisexualemmaswan​ and everyone in the @cssns​ !

Summary: When ebony flashes gold, blood runs cold. When ivory runs red, you’ll be dead. Killian Jones had heard the old rhyme his entire life. Every child did in Storybrooke, Maine. They heard it whispered in the dark at sleepovers as children; taunted as a challenge as teenagers. Killian never believed it was actually true. Until that fateful night …

Rated M for graphic depictions of violence, abusive relationships, and major character death (I mean, it’s a ghost story ya’ll, people are dead. BUT I promise, there is a happy ending. Trust me? *peeks from around a corner*)

Length: 6 chapters, complete, updated every Friday

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three

Also on Ao3

Tagging the usuals: @snowbellewells @whimsicallyenchantedrose @kmomof4 @xhookswenchx @let-it-raines @bethacaciakay @tiganasummertree @shireness-says @stahlop @scientificapricot @spartanguard @welllpthisishappening @resident-of-storybrooke @thislassishooked @ilovemesomekillianjones @kday426 @ekr032-blog-blog @lfh1226-linda @ultraluckycatnd @nikkiemms @optomisticgirl @profdanglaisstuff @ohmakemeahercules @carpedzem @branlovestowrite @superchocovian@hollyethecurious @vvbooklady1256 @winterbaby89 @delirious-latenight-laughs @jennjenn615 @snidgetsafan @itsfabianadocarmo @lassluna @distant-rose @courtorderedcake @winterbythesea @thesschesthair @killian-whump @thisonesatellite @batana54 @it-meant-something @xsajx @therooksshiningknight @gingerchangeling​

Chapter Four: Red

“Neal Gold,” Belle said, her voice trembling with excitement, “no wonder it got covered up.”

Belle struggled with an ancient tome on the top shelf in the library’s genealogy room, and Killian rushed to help her. When they set it atop the metal desk nearby, a cloud of dust billowed up. The genealogy room was hidden away in the basement too. 

“I still can’t believe Graham went to the bridge,” Belle continued. He’d never seen her so giddy with excitement. “This will show everyone Killian! You aren’t crazy!”

Killian nodded weakly. He knew it was true, and he knew that Graham getting Neal’s last name from Emma was a huge break for them, but he was starting to worry. He wanted to help Emma by solving her murder, but he also didn’t want to lose her. Didn’t ghosts linger because they had unfinished business? If he, Belle, and Graham, took care of Emma’s unfinished business, then would she . . . what? Move on to paradise? Cease to exist?

“Killy, did you hear what I said?” 

He shook the thoughts from his head and focused on Belle who stood over the huge book, her finger pointing to its binding. 

“Um, sorry. What did you say?”

“I tried to look up Swan, Emma, but the entire S section is missing.”

Belle’s fingers ran along the torn edges of several pages. Killian ran his hand wearily down his face. 

“Of course it is. So no birth certificate there either.”

“Wait a minute!” Belle exclaimed. “We know she died in 1894, and we know she was sixteen years old.”

“Which means she was born in 1878. We figured that out already. But the birth certificates from that entire year are also missing, remember?”

Belle nodded. “Yes, yes, the Gold family had money and power and were very thorough, but they may not have thought about baby announcements.”

Killian grinned. “Parents put baby announcements in the newspaper! Belle, you’re a genius!”

They ran down the short hallway to the microfilm room. Belle quickly pulled out the film for 1878 and put it in the machine. Once they figured out where the social section of the paper was located, they were able to scroll fairly quickly. And then - there it was. Just a few short lines: 

David and Mary Margaret Swan are pleased to announce the birth of their daughter, Emma Eva Swan, on October 22nd, 1878 at three o-clock in the afternoon. She is welcomed by her paternal grandmother, Ruth Elizabeth Swan, and her maternal grandfather, Leopold Blanchard.

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

“David and Mary Margaret,” Emma whispered. 

Killian tightened his hold around her shoulders and brushed a kiss against the crown of her head. “They were your parents.”

Emma nodded slowly, and he watched her facial expression under the light of the waning moon. He could practically see happy memories light up her face. 

“I remember them,” she whispered. “We didn’t have a lot of money, but we were very happy. We lived on a farm.”

She dropped her head onto Killian’s shoulder and let out a contented sigh. They remained that way for a long moment, silently watching the stars twinkle overhead. 

“She had a beautiful smile,” Emma told him quietly, “and he used to cup my head so tenderly whenever he hugged me. That’s all I remember, though. Their faces are even fuzzy in my memory.”

“I’m sorry.”

She turned in his embrace so she could look him in the eye. “Don’t be. I wouldn’t remember anything if it weren’t for you. Thank you, Killian.”

She pulled his head down gently so she could press her lips to his. They lost themselves in the passion of their kisses.

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

Killian sat with Belle once again in the library’s musty basement. Books with cracked leather bindings were piled around them: genealogy records, property records, and marriage certificates. With names and the information that Emma grew up on a farm, they were able to piece together the history of the Swan and Gold families. 

There was no evidence, however, of the Swan’s reporting their daughter was missing. In fact, aside from the birth announcement in the paper, there was no evidence that Emma Swan had existed at all. Everytime they got close, records were conveniently missing. Pages had clearly been torn out of several books, and years worth of Storybrooke Mirror and Portland Press articles were missing from the microfilm records. 

“It’s so obvious, though,” Belle exclaimed in frustration, slamming yet another large book shut. “Neal Gold falls in love with Emma Swan, a poor farmer’s daughter. His family would never approve of the relationship, so he never plans on marrying her. She’s just a good time to him.”

“I’m still a little grossed out by how old he was,” Killian muttered. 

Those records hadn’t been missing. Neal Gold was absolutely, unequivocally twenty nine years old when he met fourteen year old Emma Swan. Which made him thirty one when he got her pregnant and murdered her. 

Disgusting. 

“Belle? Did you hear me?”

His friend had gone completely pale, her finger frozen in the center of a yellowed page. Killian got up and leaned over her shoulder. 

“What’s this?”

She flipped the heavy leather volume back to the cover with a deep sigh. Killian leaned further over his shoulder and read the title out loud. 

“The Life, Impact, and Genealogy of Storybrooke’s Founding Family: The Golds. Well that’s not pretentious at all,” he snorted. Belle giggled. “By -”

He cut off, reeled back, and looked at Belle, who nodded in affirmation. “By Roderick Gaston?”

“There’s more,” Belle told him, flipping back to the page that had left her frozen. 

It was a family tree, and Killian scanned it quickly. At the top was Robert Gold, the founder of Storybrooke, with his wife Milah’s name beside his. Below that, it listed their only son: Neal Gold. He married Tamara Gold in 1894, the same year Emma died.

“Well, there’s another motive for murder,” Killian murmured, “not only did he get a teenager pregnant, he was cheating on his fiance.”

“Keep going,” Belle whispered. 

Neal and Tamara had three children: Bonnie, Felix, and Gretchen. The oldest daughter, Bonnie, had married Roderick Gaston, and they had two sons: Lewis and Mitchum Gaston.

“Wait - isn’t Mike’s dad Mitch Gaston?”

“Yes,” Belle told him softly, “and I met his grandfather once, too. His name is Roderick. I never put two and two together before, but the man was the worst snob. He kept asking who my people were and going on and on about how the Gaston’s were connected to Storybrooke’s finest families.”

“So this means that your boyfriend -”

“Is the descendant of Emma’s murderer.”

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

“Where the hell are you going?”

Killian jumped at the sound of his brother’s voice. He whirled away from the back door to find Liam standing in the kitchen with the phone in his hand. Killian could hear the loud, grating beeping of the line as it went dead. 

“Who were you talking to at 3 am?” Killian shot back. 

Liam narrowed his eyes then slowly put the phone back onto the receiver that hung on the wall. He took his time untangling the long cord before turning back to face Killian.

“Something’s happened, little brother.”

Liam’s voice was so full of fear, shock, and sadness that Killian didn’t even bother correcting him on the little brother label. 

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

The girl in the hospital bed couldn’t possibly be Belle. Her eyes were wild and darted around the room, her hair was a tangled mass around her face, and when she saw Killian she began to scream. 

“I saw her, Killy! The ghost! The blood, the blood, the blood . . .” 

Orderlies ran in and grabbed her before she could lunge from the bed. She fought them tenaciously, her back arching and her eyes rolling back in her head.

“Ivory runs red, ivory runs red. He’s dead, he’s dead.” She started to laugh maniacally as one orderly managed to get a syringe into her veins. They wrestled her to the bed and strapped her down, but she continued to speak, her words slurring. “He’s dead, dead, dead.”

She arched her back one more time, mumbling about ivory and red, shaking her head back and forth. Then she began to say the rhyme they had learned as children, singing it to a morbid little tune. 

“When ebony flashes gold, blood runs cold. When ivory runs red, you’ll be dead.”

Killian felt the blood rush from his head, leaving his skin cold in the sterile room as he watched Belle’s breaths even out. He knew the kinds of drugs running through her veins, God did he know. He also knew no one would believe her. 

Mike Gaston was dead, and Killian couldn’t muster a modicum of grief. 

[barricadebops]

I NEED A WHOLE BOOK THIS IS A M A Z I N G I'd sell my soul for mummy au snippets I love you oh my hhhhhhhh *screams in adoration*

The Mummy AU verse, you can find the first fic here.

"One year ago, you were chained to a table and was nearly sacrificed in some demonic summoning ritual, I was nearly sucked dry of my everything, and Courf nearly killed us all by summoning guards who were hell bent on killing us until he muttered the right incantation. And where are we a year later?" he muttered as he trailed behind his fiance, a hand poised near the gun in his holster, ready should anything go awry. Which, considering their previous experience at Hamunaptra, wasn't too unlikely a possibility.

In front of him, Enjolras hummed. "The mummy's gone Grantaire, we took care of that. There's nothing to worry about." He stopped walking for a moment and turned around to face him. "The pyramids are open to explore! Who knows what we may discover next?"

"Another creepy book that'll end with nothing good?" he asked, rolling his eyes. "Remind me to keep you away from those."

At his comment, Enjolras didn't even spare him his signature huff or roll-of-his-eyes, which Grantaire thought was pretty rude. He lived to see the way Enjolras face scrunched up in a way that couldn't possibly look cute on anyone's face and yet managed to do on his, the least he could have done as payment for dragging him here once more would be to give it to him.

(Or, well, Grantaire says dragging. In reality, he would have readily followed Enjolras to the ends of the Earth if he asked.)

They turned down a narrow passageway, the dark flickering to life where they held their torches as Enjolras felt along the notches of the wall, looking for...whatever it was he was looking for, his trusty kit wrapped safely around his waist.

"If you're quite done complaining, Mr. Grantaire," he said absentmindedly, addressing him the way he once did when they were first acquainted, out of teasing, "perhaps you could help me?"

A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. "Help exactly how?"

But Grantaire knew exactly how. It was clear to anyone who could see Enjolras straining on his toes to reach an indented groove in the wall next to another relief, too far out of his reach for him to strike with his chisel as a result of his rather short stature what he needed help with. He just liked hearing him ask.

And as predicted, Enjolrad turned his head and glared, huffing that signature huff Grantaire loved so much.

"Grantaire, I swear if you don't get over here and help me, this time I'll actually summon the mummy through my 'heiroglyph' notes. And this time I'll become his true faithful lover while you mope over the engagement ring I throw back at your head."

The mention of the heiroglyph note-scare was enough to have Grantaire turn pale and rush to his side to help. It certainly wasn't a feeling he wanted to relive again; revenge for an offhand comment by Grantaire about the illegibility of Enjolras' handwriting--that they looked like heiroglyphs and that he was no Egyptologist like his fiance was to decipher them--led to a barrage of notes this time truly in heiroglyphs, and made suspicious and mysterious enough to rouse his suspicions that Enjolras was trying something that might have them pursued by an unholy monster once again, and it certainly didn't help that Enjolras acted well enough to allow him to believe those suspicions.

"Two weeks," he complained as he crouched low enough to allow Enjolras to climb onto his shoulders. "For two weeks you let me think you'd been possessed by some spirit trying to summon the mummy again. You made me look like a fool when Combeferre and Courfeyrac finally came back only to see me panicking at their doorstep."

Enjolras hummed as Grantaire straightened and he found himself lifted off the ground, boosted high enough on Grantaire's shoulders that he could now reach the spot he had been straining to toucn earlier. "Maybe you shouldn't have insulted my writing then. Besides, you should know that heiroglyphs doesn't equate to demonic writing."

"Given my experience with them, you'll have to forgive me if I think they're symbols straight outta hell," he muttered, swaying slightly on his feet. Enjolras patted his head.

"Stay still, Grantaire, I'm trying to hold my chisel steady."

He smiled up at him. "You may be an angel, but you certainly have no way of touching the heavens without help."

Abruptly stopping his chiselling, Enjolras glared down at the top of his fiance's head, and deadpanned, "No, but I'll drag you to hell if you keep it up with the short jokes."

"Hey, come on now, don't get short with me."

"Grantaire."

He remained standing still as Enjolras began to chisel away at the notch in the wall, dust falling around them. "Will you at least tell me what you actually wrote on those notes."

A smirk on his face, Enjolras peered down at him and smugly answered, "I guess you'll never know."

He quirked an eyebrow. "I could just ask Courf."

Enjolras' smirk only grew. "He'll never tell--I've got too much dirt on him."

If he could, Grantaire would shake his head. Siblings.

However, given his current position, he was in no means to do so as Enjolras continued to chisel away at the wall. "What exactly are we looking for again?"

Above him, Enjolras hummed. "Well, we found enough jewels and riches enough to prove that the claims of Hamunaptra being the city of gold for the Pharaohs was real." As an aside, he murmured under his breath, "Take that Bembridge Scholars," which surprised a rumbling laugh out of Grantaire, which on any other day Enjolras might have appreciated, but seeing as how Grantaire's whole body shook and he was sat upon his shoulders, instead he yelped and gripped tight onto Grantaire's hair, which threatened to turn his laughter into purring.

"Gr--Grantaire! Stop!"

"I'll make it a deal to stop laughing if you stop pulling," he grit out in attempt to reign in any embarassing noises that threatened to spill from his tongue.

"Huh? Oh!" his hair was released, Enjolras wincing in sympathy. "Sorry."

Grantaire was of the thought that he didn't have to be sorry if he did the same thing, just when they got home.

"We're--stop moving, I'll fall--we're looking for one of Seti I's pendants--his most prized pendant of all."

He snorted. "And this requires looking through his walls?"

Enjolras peered down at his head, frowning as if it were obvious. "Well, yes. It was stolen from him, and many archaeologists believe it was hidden in the ground or put in a wall."

"Well," he watched as his fiance continued to chip away at the notch in the wall, "there are a hundred walls here. How do we know which one it is?"

"The thieves confessed to hiding it near a relief," Enjolras murmured distractedly. "Such as this one." He pointed to the relief carved next to them.

"How'd they get them to confess?"

"Oh!" Enjolras grinned down at him. "They had them tortured until they spoke. Then they killed them!"

He squinted up at him. "You know, I may call you angel, but the way you speak about this kind of stuff as if it's just common practice to torture and then execute really has me on edge."

"That's just what studying Egyptology does to you, dear." He delivered one last strike to the wall before the surrounding area started to crack. Uneasily, he crouched low so Enjolras could get off as he grabbed for his hand and pulled him back slowly, as if their subtle movements made a difference on the rate of the wall cracking.

The wall eventually ceased its sounds of whip-like cracks as the lines made a halt. Cautiously, Enjolras stepped forward and pressed a hand to the surface, before turning his head to give Grantaire a smile.

"It's still intact, let me just get out my chisel again--"

CRACK!

Grantaire had time only to dart out to grab Enjolras' hand and yank him backwards as the wall shattered and something heavy came toppling out, nearly crushing Enjolras had Grantaire not pulled him to safety at the last second.

Both panting heavily at their narrow escape, Grantaire pressed a light kiss to the top of Enjolras' head as he tightened his arms around him, all the while musing, "Every time we come here it's like your disaster mode is activated, hey Angel? How many times do I have to pull you out of way of falling objects?"

At this point, it wasn't as if Enjolras was even trying to deny it. "As many times as we're out here to discover."

He delivered another quick kiss to his head before he let him go to inspect the fallen object.

A sarcophagus.

Grantaire groaned.

Not this again.

"Grantaire," Enjolras' voice was hushed in awe and his eyes were wide. "Grantaire it's--well it's a--"

"Yeah," he wrapped his hand around Enjolras' wrist and pulled him back once more, drawing a noise of protest from his fiance. "No, we're not doing this again."

Enjolras wriggled his wrist free. "Grantaire, we can't just leave it! Imagine what could be inside!"

"What could be inside, huh?" He muttered. "We all saw how well that went."

"That was one curse," Enjolras said dismissively.

"A curse that nearly brought the end of the world--"

"Besides, you need an incantation to bring the dead back, and since we don't have the Book with us..." He shrugged innocently. Raising his eyebrows, he said, "Please?"

Grantaire looked at his hopeful expression, down to the ground beneath them, up to the dim ceiling that trapped them, before groaning and burying his head in his hands.

"Fine! Fine!" He looked back to Enjolras and sighed. "I'm going to regret this, aren't I?"

Enjolras simply beamed and leaned up to peck his cheek, one soft hand cupping his face. "You wouldn't have been able to stop me even if you said no, dear."

He brought his own hand up to hold Enjolras' as he leaned further into his touch, rubbing his stubbled cheek on his hand and turning to deliver a quick kiss to its palm. "Yeah, I know."

They both approached the sarcophagus slowly, working to lift it up vertically and set it against the wall. Grantaire set off to prying open the lid--this one unimpeded by any sort of a lock--as Enjolras leaned forwards in anticipation. He paused for a moment to glare back at him until Enjolras rolled his eyes and conceded by way of taking a step back; safety wise, it really wasn't as if that one step would truly do anything were anything to actually pop out alive from it, but it provided Grantaire with a sort of ease, even if unfounded.

The lid of the sarcophagus began to give way, and Grantaire knew that with one last heave he would be able to pull it free. Both held their breaths as Grantaire gave one final tug, Enjolras leaned forwards, dust was expelled in a massive cloud as the lid popped off and out came--

Grantaire jumped back and yanked Enjolras back too, gasping, only to see--

Nothing came out. Not even the skeleton of what would have been one buried inside. The sarcophagus was completely--

"Empty?" Enjolras shook his head in disbelief. "It's empty! How can it be empty?"

Grantaire shrugged, a bit relieved at the result of their findings. "Shit, Angel, I don't know? Maybe they just wanted to bury an empty sarcophagus." Even as he said it, he knew it was a stupid thought.

Enjolras scoffed. "Yes, because it's not as if that would take time and effort they couldn't be spending someplace else." He looked hesitant before voicing that little thought that had popped up in Grantaire's mind--one he would have previously written off as being stupid were it not for his recent adventures in the past. "Do you...do you think that maybe... whatever was in here somehow, well, somehow got out?"

And despite the fact that their experiences taught him that it was very much possible, Grantaire shook his head. A little bit of denial was never a bad thing, right? A man's gotta cope somehow.

"No, Angel, that's not possible."

Furrowing his eyebrows, Enjolras opened his mouth to argue that they both well knew that Enjolras could be right, but before he could do so, Grantaire continurd, "Now, what I think we should do is get the hell out of here and back to camp, and then go home next morning and sleep until we die."

"But! But Grantaire! We haven't even found the pendant!" Enjolras protested as Grantaire took him by the hand and started leading him out. "We didn't find what we came here for!"

"Trust me," he grunted. "Maybe the pendant should stay buried."

"Grantaire we can't--" he cut himself off at the sound of shuffling echoing somewhere from one of the passageways.

Both went rigidly still.

The noise made itself heard once more, and Grantaire looked at Enjolras as he raised a finger to his lips and began to ease his hand towards his gun.

The sound disappeared for a moment, in which Grantaire could only discern both Enjolras' and his breathing followed by the slight click as he began to draw his gun from his holster.

Then he felt Enjolras hand wrenched from his own as he screamed, and Grantaire, panicking, drew his gun up, swivelling to try and find where Enjolras disappeared to and fingered the trigger--

"Wait wait!" a laughing voice called. "Don't shoot, it's just me!"

Cursing, he slid his gun back in holster and glared at where Courfeyrac had his arms wrapped around a pale Enjolras.

"Honestly, fuck you Courfeyrac, what is your problem?" he asked, annoyed.

Courfeyrac seemed to be trying to catch his breath as Grantaire tried to slow his own racing heart. "Oh don't be like that. My brother dearest and I act like this all the time!"

Enjolras smacked Courfeyrac's chest. "Yes, at home!" he hissed. "Not somewhere you could give me a heartattack!"

Courfeyrac ruffled his hair. "But this just makes the fear even more delicious."

"Remind me why we brought you along again?"

"Well who else is going to keep you on track? If I weren't here, you two would probably forget all about the pendant in favour of more, ah, hands-on experiences."

"Courfeyrac!"

[ve1vetyoongi]

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."

[moondustaeil]

anaphora ⧜ nakamoto yuta

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ✧☾.·:·. a n a p h o r a   

⠀ ⠀⠀ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ  

⁖ genre : royalty au - fluff , angst , very light suggestive content

⁖ pairing : yuta x reader (both royals)

⁖ word count : 15k

⁖ warning : badmouthing , light suggestive content , attempted thievery , family drama , mentions of a forbidden relationship , broken kingdoms , character deaths , poisoning , toxic plants , based on oneus’ performance of “be mine” in road to kingdom

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀

⠀ ⠀⠀ ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ

⁖ Rather than living without your love, Yuta would prefer to die out of hatred. Once at a banquet the man you were willing to devote yourself to but due the split of the kingdoms, you can no longer promise forever to him like you did that night under the moonlight in the conservatory.

〚 I ; ūnus 〛

"This might be the death of fashion diplomacy, look at that attire," A woman of somewhere at the end of her forties interrupts Yuta's path. It isn't physically that she interrupts him, but his footsteps halt as soon as he hears the words. The two silver chains that circle from his left shoulder to the right side of his waist soundlessly move along as he turns his body back.

He looks straight into her eyes, his head cocking to the side as he wants to confront her in the sweetest way possible. Revenge is on the tip of his tongue but the guard could be quick to snatch the symbolic entrance ticket from between his fingers if he caused a stir.

"Are you talking about me?" He decides to ask her, letting go of his lower lip to flash her a smile. His smile nearly shines as bright as the glittering silver parallel-running lines upon his black blazer. But his smile doesn't catch as much attention as his outfit does, and yet, he doesn't feel ashamed about his attire.

"If you feel addressed then it must be about you, right?" She asks in return, her lips curling until she's able to imitate his smile. While he looks for revenge, she just tries to overpower him with the sugary sweet and yet snarky comments. Yuta can't help but hum in approval "I guess that's accurate, you have a point there."

He isn't afraid to show how she has a point because after all, he feels like he won even though the minuscule passage of words wasn't part of a contest. "Now, I would like to talk about having an excellent sense of fashion all night but seems like I should not waste time on people who don't have such things from the start," he shrugs his shoulders to hide the prideful words that slip from his lips. After giving her attire one last shameless glance, he turns on his heel and walks away from her.

Somewhere in the distance people are either way spreading their half-opinionated gossip or looking at him like he just killed an evil authority. Whether it's a good or bad thing isn't something that bothers Yuta, his footsteps don't get any heavier as he steps between the crowd on his own.

The potion has been stirred but not enough for his entrance ticket to be snatched away, yet enough for his father to walk up to him with disappointed eyes.

"What was that about?" His father asks in a quiet shout, pulling Yuta by the tight cupp of his puffed blazer. Merely by the button as the fabric is tightly resting around his wrist, too tight for his father to hook his fingers on the inside of it. "Nothing, she was just inquiring about my outfit," Yuta answers simply.

It's not hard to pull from the barely-existing grip, the undamaged button rests against the cupp again. "You know these sorts of people, you are supposed to nod your head and agree to all they want you to agree on, understood?" His father starts the real lecture in the middle of the crowd-filled room. Watched or not watched, Yuta has no care for it, and apparently, his father doesn't mind giving free lectures.

"Said no one, father. Jaehyun, Mark, or any of the others don't want to be treated like this either and they are in a way higher position than that twat," He tells his father but is aware of the answer that he will receive to his words, of course, he will get the response that he's not supposed to involve his stupid friends in serious matters like this. "Do I need to remind you that Jaehyun, or Yoonoh as you should say, nearly lost his position when he shared the sheets with a lady he had never seen before?"

Yuta clenches his thumb between his balled fist, creating the cracking sound as he only grows more assertive when hearing the words. "Oh father, please stop believing human newspapers, they're no good ass wipers," he mentions lightly but the consequences aren't as smooth as his words are.

He's willing to get scolded for protecting one of his friends: yes Jeong Jaehyun nearly lost his position when he shared the sheets with a woman. But added to the false story should be the truth, that Jaehyun had been sharing a secret life with the woman for more than half a year. The scandal was only a scandal because the woman was just an inhabitant who didn't occupy herself with kingdoms, authorities or wealthy cowards.

"This is the first and last thing I am hearing from you today, Yuta, if I hear one more thing, you can forget coming to events like this."

Yuta just carelessly nods his head before he walks away from his father, not caring whether the words would come true or not. He doesn't see why he would need to attend banquets, balls or any other formalities: it only cost him time and money as his outfits weren't exactly bought on a weekly market, neither were his exact body sizes measured by a randomly generated number.

"As if I care," he mumbles as soon as he is far enough from his father, he wouldn't have minded if his father heard the words but still protected the last bit of image that he had left. His footsteps were slow but not slow enough to match the still ones of everyone around him: curious ladies that were staring at him with either distrust or lust, men that tried to keep their wives from starting a vicious circle of rumours. Yuta pushes his body through the empty space that everyone left for him until he is standing near one of the large windows.

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

Yuta grasps his cake fork between his thumb and index finger as soon as a plate with a large piece of cake is presented to him. He's about to dig in and scoop the point of the cake onto his fork but the voice of the person next to him momentarily stops him from doing so.

"Did any of you hear something about marriage already?" Mark Lee asks out loud to everyone who is sitting on the same part of the table as him, obviously, he only finds himself around people of the same age with a few years minus or plus that is. Yuta expects Jaehyun to let out a quiet huff but realises his friend isn't there to complain about the matter of a wedding. Yet, enough people around him are willing to take over.

"My parents are trying to find me a partner, it almost seems like one of those contests of who the most beautiful person is but only if they're rich enough," Mark answers his own question before anyone else can, clearly he just needs someone to listen to him even though no one can fix his situation.

Opposite of Yuta is the eldest of the group, Moon Taeil. As relaxed as Taeil is, there is also a part of him that values tradition and rules over anything else. Perhaps he doesn't follow them as much as Doyoung does, but as he's the eldest, people are more likely to listen to him than to Doyoung. "It's the way it is, we all have to get married someday soon."

"Well it's you who should go first then, you're the oldest here," Yuta says in a teasing way to rub the fact in a little more, he knows it wouldn't affect Taeil because Taeil follows his tradition and has been preparing himself for the important moment to come. "I will," Taeil answers simply, it's simple but seemingly a hidden message hides behind the words.

Yuta glances at Mark who started the talk about marriage but didn't find relief as no one really picked up on his words with a sense of empathy. He doesn't really feel bad for his friend, with the simple reason that he has to undergo the same, and probably even earlier than Mark does.

"What about you y/n?" Taeil asks you as he drifts away from his group of friends for a little moment, not that you're not a part of his friend group, you simply never informally met Yuta or Mark which was why he decided to try and involve you in their conversation right now. You were listening anyway so it might be a good moment to bring you into his group of friends.

"My parents truly organised this for me to possibly find a fiance but instead of allowing me to talk to possible candidates, they claim me," you explained to Taeil with a soft sigh leaving your lips. You had no idea whether you sighed because you were forced to find a future husband or because your parents had claimed you until the moment you were seated at the table.

Taeil nods in response as he is actively listening to what you're saying, yet, Yuta can't help but let out a soft snort as he is amused by your story. Not because you're the starring role in the confusing wishes of your parents, but because parents will always be parents. "That's what all parents do. If you didn't see earlier, my father still tries to grab me by the sleeve like I'm a little boy who is about to cross a busy street," he tells you and the rest of the group.

The words make everyone want to change the subject to what happened earlier, a little moment everyone had seen: Taeil had seen it even if he only made his entrance at that moment, Mark had been able to see it whilst conversing with some wealthy people and you had seen it from your position as your parents lectured you about who was going to be present at the banquet.

"Yeah that was a wild scenario, man," Mark says as he can't help but think back, it's nothing unfamiliar as he had seen Yuta with his father before. Yuta was just too free-spirited to always listen and obey to everything that others tell him and he's not afraid to make a scene out of it.

"All because some lady made fun of my attire. She called it the death of fashion or something," Yuta says as he once again snorts at the short memory of the gossip he heard barely a couple of minutes after making his entrance. He would admit he was salty about it but didn't think about it longer than five seconds as it wasn't important.

You can't help but look at Yuta as he's saying the words: first you start at the features of his face but the moment he mentions his attire, you can't help but stare at his upper body. The black blazer has puffed sleeves that tighten around his wrist and is decorated with parallel silver glittering lines, then there is a chain that splits in two as it goes from his shoulder to his waist, to finish the outfit there are some silver bands that coat his left upper arm and shoulder. It's more than a handful and you're sure that there is more that you're not seeing.

"It looks very unique," you say about his outfit and smile slightly at your own words, you're being genuine as his outfit looks like something you never saw before. Even though he got bashed for the attire he's wearing, it makes him look more expensive than anyone else in the big room. The lace on the long dresses, the fake fur on the men's clothing, they don't compare to glittering lines on Yuta's blazer.

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

"Get home well"

You wave your hand to Taeil as he leaves the location, you're aware that he can't see what you're doing because it's too dark outside, but you still feel like saying goodbye to him in some way. Next to you is Yuta who made the excuse that he needed some fresh air just so that he could say goodbye to his friends and stay around you for a little bit longer. It didn't look like his father was leaving anytime soon which is why he took the chance to escape for as long as he could.

"So have you found your future husband?" Yuta inquires curiously as he stands next to you, waving his hand at Taeil just like you did despite also realising it wouldn't be shown in the dark. Soon his eyes go to you as he sees you shaking your head from the corner of his eye "I don't think I did. I'm not planning on marrying Taeil, I've known him for so long," you say honestly.

"What about Mark?" Yuta asks, giving you the option to admit if you found someone to your liking. Even though you said you didn't but Yuta just wants to know for sure before he continues to talk to you and perhaps flirt with you a little bit more than he did already.

"Nice but not as my brother, he seems like a little brother."

Yuta can't help but laugh out loud to your words because he felt the exact way. He wasn't ever going to marry Mark but did see Mark as his little brother more than anything else: there was just something about him that made him the perfect little brother compared to real little siblings.

"Sounds like I'm the last candidate then," he says in a joking tone as the two of you start taking awfully slow steps in no particular direction. It's automatically that your feet take steps without your mind wondering where your feet are wandering off to.

You softly laugh along to his words for a few seconds, letting your laugh fade out when your mind tries to see an image of you getting married to Nakamoto Yuta. He's attractive and perhaps he's from a family that your family would appreciate, but the man himself is something people would be against.

"Sounds like it," you respond finally as you stare ahead and notice the conservatory coming into view. It's not an unfamiliar place but it's not like you find yourself there on a daily basis. Still, right now it seems like a fitting space to walk to together with Yuta.

Yuta can't help but smile at your words even if he doesn't see himself getting married anytime soon, perhaps in a few years when he feels ready to settle down, especially knowing marriage must also mean starting a family. "Did you expect to find a future husband tonight?" he asks curiously as he sees where you're going and mindlessly allows his footsteps to imitate yours.

"Far from yes," you answer his question as honest as you can, still staring ahead of you towards the conservatory. It's not a long walk but you're anticipating the moment you can open the door and explore the greenery in the darkness together with Yuta. Both of you seem to need some minutes away from the heavily decorated banquet, and now that dessert had been eaten, there were plenty of chances to sneak away. "How about you? Your parents must be looking to find you a spouse too?"

Yuta hums in approval, signalling that you're absolutely right when you assume that. "They don't force me but obviously try to stimulate me into finding someone to marry but how will I ever love someone that only meets up to their requirements but not mine?"

"You don't. We don't marry out of love, my parents were kind enough to at least tell me the truth about that"

Your words open a new dimension for Yuta, just like the door to the greenhouse is opened before the two of you walk inside. It's pure darkness and yet your eyes can easily recognise the different shades of green and the forms of leaves and other plants.

"Your parents might be right about that," Yuta admits as he walks behind you, giving the greenery a brief look before he tries to follow your figure with his eyes. He is very interested in nature and would love to go on endless walks and hikes in unexplored green masterpieces, but right now, his attention shifts to you.

Minding your steps to not accidentally step on a plant, you make your path through the greenhouse to the place where you usually take a seat to be away from everyone and everything. But being in the darkness, the path doesn't seem clear enough to walk on without accidentally hurting a fallen leaf.

The sound your feet make when they come in contact with greenery is the only thing that keeps the silence from comfortably walking between the two of you, there's distance enough for it to sneak in and almost third-wheel unnoticed.

Your steps align once you see the carved marble bench right in front of you, empty like each time you come to this place, though this time both spots on it will be occupied. On the seat of the bench is a carved satyr but you can't make out the little details since only darkness flows through the glass roofing.

"Let's sit for a bit," you suggest as you sit on the side that you automatically always take, leaving the other spot free for your companion, Yuta. Yuta does as you suggest and immediately plants himself on the cold bench next to you, his eyes staring at the window that can only show him the darkness of the outside world.

"Is this where you take party victims?" He playfully asks you as he turns his gaze to you instead, watching as your eyes are on the same spot that he was looking at seconds ago, not that there is much to see as the night seems close to an unrecognisable shade of black. Before you laugh, he observes how your mouth lightly parts before the sound escapes.

"If I can be a victim as well then you could say I take party victims here," you tell him after your soft laugh dies down against the air. Yuta's own laugh of slight amusement dies soon after yours even if it threatens to stay for a bit longer because of your confession.

It's not funny but without laughter, the oxygen-filled air would feel as heavy as it was in reality and right now both of you prefer to keep it light in the greenery-filled glasshouse.

"I'll be one of your victims, you should invite me more."

〚 II ; duo 〛

Yuta's boot-clad feet skillfully avoid the fallen leaves on the ground as he walks into the greenhouse, even though it's his third or even fourth time, he's not accustomed to the path he has to follow just yet. Luckily the ground already drew out the path by decarmating the stones that led him towards the bench.

The bench is still empty when he arrives and he takes that as an opportunity to explore a little further in the maze of greenery. Even though he follows the laid out ground, he doesn't exactly follow any path, his eyes are fixated on his surroundings as he walks.

Even though the endless windows lock him up in the glasshouse, he feels like he is taking a stroll in nature. A place that is yet to be discovered by some, a place where he doesn't have to remind himself of his manners towards the wealthy and treasured of the country.

The greenery greets him without words which is quite something else compared to the endless badmouthing that ordinarily happens when he walks into the ballroom of an overly decorated event. The plants don't have critical feedback on his attire, his manners, his slightly longer hair, his personality or his wealth. Yet, the plants are alive and growing, just like most humans.

Some more living examples of people that do not badmouth are you and his small group of close friends. His friends for starters don't act as wealthy as they truly are and he's grateful that they don't act like that, they are just normal like any human that walks through the streets. Then there is you, who never judges him and listens to the many things he wants to tell while also trying to have a good time at the same time. Does that mean he appreciates you more than just an acquaintance?

The answer to the question he speechlessly asks himself is probably yes, you would use the words 'far from no' to answer the question because you seem to like giving that response more than just a yes or no. Perhaps he sees you as more than an acquaintance, even more than friends: his feelings for you are in bloom just like some of the flowers in this greenhouse.

Having those feelings means that he no longer wants you to find a spouse, neither does he want his parents to find one for him. Independency led to this moment, where he can make his own choices in his lifeline and end up with the one he might just truly love. Yet, what holds him back is that he has never been in love before, doesn't have any knowledge as he never saw the genuine love between two people, and he simply has no faint idea of what he wants to achieve in the future.

"I'm sorry I kept you waiting so long, my parents suddenly decided it was a good idea if they educated me on trading materials."

Your voice makes Yuta look up from the point that he was staring at, he doesn't have a clue what point he's exactly staring at and before he's about to find out, his body is already spun towards you.

"Hello," He greets you with a smile, ignoring your previous words because he simply did not hear them while being one with his thoughts. His eyes greet you as well: without judging going from your facial features to the outfit that you're wearing to cover your skin. The colour of your attire compliments you: midnight blue might just become his new preferred colour if you continue to look as magical in it.

"You didn't get lost whilst waiting for me right?" you ask with a smile on your lips as you let your eyes move in the same circle that a clock makes, just to get familiar with the greenery around both of you, perhaps it could explain what Yuta was staring at for as long as you had been watching him from a not-so-far distance.

Yuta shakes his head in response and slowly walks up to you "no, of course not. I stopped by the bench not long ago but seeing you were not there yet, I decided to explore a little," he explains even though there is no need for him to do so. You don't seem enraged by his exploration so you probably don't mind it when he lets his eyes wander and his feet explore.

"We can walk around here some more if you would like, there is much more greenery than you see now. Perhaps we could even water some of the plants together, even if it's unexciting," you suggest and smile at your own idea. It reminds you of a date even though it's not much different from sitting on the bench: after all, it's the same location and there hasn't been a confirmation that this was a date. "I would really like that," Yuta answers.

Before you are able to take off on your own, Yuta takes initiative to link your arms together as you walk. You're surprised by the sudden display of affection as you are aware that only those who are lovers are known to hold one another like that. It's a large step in the outing of affection but neither of you try to separate your arms from one another.

"So I assume you enjoy nature," You say to Yuta, not using a questioning tone despite your will to find out if he actually enjoys nature as much as he seems to, after all, who would agree to meet up in a greenhouse time after time without complaining about the green-coloured surroundings or scent of blooming flowers. Yuta briefly nods in response to your words, a smile coating his lips but you're too busy staring ahead of you to notice. "I love nature, nature compares to freedom for me. No one judges but everyone listens."

His explanation is what makes you look at him, there is no questioning look in your eyes as you seem to understand without further explanation. "Because nature is alive too," you say as you partially agree to his words. There aren't many opportunities for you to discover nature unless it's in the greenhouse, but you can imagine the feeling of walking on an undiscovered land, only filled with grass and large trees of which leaves slowly dwindle to the ground.

"precisely."

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

The quiet whispers of the wind easily dwindle down the glass walls that kept you from truly experiencing freedom. Despite not being able to feel an unlimited amount of freedom: the wind wasn't present to disturb the small stream of water that collapsed on the tightly-patted loam.

"Do you ever receive flower bouquets?"

It is a question that should not make you flabbergasted because the never-ending supply of flower bouquets that you're given are no longer gifts that take you by surprise. Yet, rather than to be given a bouquet, Yuta is thoughtful enough to ask whether you ever receive them before he sets up his plan.

"I do," you answer his question simply. You don't say it to brag or for his plans to fall in the pond, but for the reason that you do get a lot of them. Every person that visits the gigantic place you call home takes at least one flower along, handing it over to you whilst pride reflects from their eyes onto yours. But your eyes don't resemble a mirror: they shine with a dull glow as you thank them for the friendly gesture but internally scold them.

"And?" Yuta asks as he looks over at you whilst you water the following plant, his grip tightening around the gardening tool that you pushed into his hand before starting to do a task that wasn't yours. "And that is it. Why would I need a bouquet of flowers that will wither merely a week after its been given?" You reason.

"As well as how this conservatory consisting mostly of flowers and other sorts of greenery? Because they don't wither as rapidly as the ones you receive?"

The questioning undertone in Yuta's voice momentarily makes you suspect if you are obligated to answer with yes or no to either of the times he used it. Momentarily truly lasts momentarily, the moment you find out he has been looking at you, you realise he was only trying to complete the answer to your question before you had to do the effort.

"Precisely."

You smile once the word leaves your lips, even if you contemplated him just a few seconds ago, you can't help but think of yourself as an idiot who nearly misinterpreted the words. Luckily you watered the symbolic flower before its petals started to dwindle down from the disk.

"But you still enjoy flowers?" Yuta asks curiously as he watches how you finish off watering every plant that comes in your reach. The endless refills of water make it possible for the flowers to bloom or for Yuta to stay by your side a little longer.

You nod your head in confirmation before giving him a brief but suitable statement. "I do, I just dislike like receiving them as a gift. Specifically when they are just an excuse to not come empty-handed."

Yuta senses how honest you are when you say the words, it's not only that as he understands what you mean from experience. It was impolite to request someone's company and not have anything in return, to the most when it was about a possible romantic encounter.

"Now I know that I should not bring flowers with me next time," he eventually answers but the smile is evident in his voice, but even more on his lips. They're curved upwards from nerves as he awaits your response.

"I won't accept any gifts from you, Yuta. I have warned you and I expect you to remember for as long as you're able to," you order Yuta in a rather playful manner. You meant the words, they were genuine despite the playful hue in them but you weren't able to give him a scolding for something that didn't occur yet.

"What if I accidentally forget?" He asks you in the same playful way, wanting to continue the conversation so that he could see your reaction. He didn't know what reaction to expect, there was a wide variety of emotions you could display in response. Soon it was proven to be his lucky day when a smile made its way onto your lips at his words. You shook your head in disbelief "perhaps it is time for me to find a new love interest in that case, and my mother will have a lovely flower bouquet to make my father jealous with."

"Love interest?"

Yuta's lips can't take control, allow him to slip out the words that laid on the tip of his tongue. By the way his eyes are widened, you can see that he is astonished. "Love interest," he repeats again: this time not to question you but to test how the words sound when he's saying them out loud.

You love the way the mixture of letters leaves his lips, you love the two words that you have been able to use for personal preference for the first time in your life. The way Yuta says them only makes them sound better, when he says them, it almost makes you believe he feels the same way about you without officially confessing.

"In that case, I shall not forget, you will not be receiving any flower bouquets from me," Yuta finally answers even though it should have been you who completed the cycle of feedback. Your first – and genuine – reaction is a smile that graces your lips from one minute into the other. From his words, you could dissect that he would have a fancy for being your love interest, or so you thought that was what he meant.

Briefly, you glance at Yuta before looking towards the large windows that lock you up in the glasshouse. Yuta is quick to follow your gaze towards the outside world: his eyes following the direction of the tree twigs that get swayed along with the wind. "Is there something else you could offer me, you know, to compensate for the flowers?"

Your words make Yuta laugh soft, his breath almost simultaneously blowing like the wind does outside the window. "What would you fancy?" He asks you even though he knows you are kidding. It became clear before that you don't waste words on people who bring you gifts in return for a bit of your attention.

"Anything you are willing to offer," you begin as you bend down to put down the watering can, leaving it on the ground before you stand up to face Yuta again. The smile that you carry on your lips the moment you look at Yuta gets reflected to his. "What do you think about love?" He asks you as the smile minimizes a little bit when his lips move to speak but that doesn't make it less impactful.

You freeze momentarily when you hear the suggestion, along with your body, your mind also takes a halt for a couple of seconds. Your ears correctly heard the question, as did your mind process the words before going in short lockdown. "I would enjoy that," you murmur whilst slowly dragging yourself back into reality.

A soft embrace around your hand instantly pulls you back into the real world, the hand closes around yours and keeps a gentle grip on it. "I will be looking forward to it," Yuta says as he gives your hand a little squeeze, immediately gaining your nod-filled reaction.

"Me too, Yuta."

〚 III ; trēs 〛

Hundreds of questions collect on your tongue as tastebuds: when one disappears, it simply gets replaced by a new one. Their flavours are dissimilar: some taste bitter, others taste free, and on the tip are many fear-tasting buds.

"How do you know they will walk by without seeing us?"

Yuta can only let out a soft laugh at the sixth question that slips from your tastebuds onto your moving lips. It's an adorable and wholesome sight to see so you worried, he misses the realisation how either of you two must be aware of the risks this takes along.

"It is very early, y/n. Most people out on this hour are on their way for duties and the children won't be able to catch who we are," Yuta tries to ease your uneasiness. The fine line between freedom and getting caught is what your feet seem to be walking on rather than the neatly stoned ground.

In response to his words, you nod, but the anxiety only grows with every step taken towards the civil world. "People on their way might still see us," you say in a complaining tone even though you only try to make Yuta see it in the way you see it. He has done this countless times whilst you rarely came here, and if you did, then it was not supposed to be a casual stroll with your love interest. "They are always rushing, they don't have time to look for people like us before they have to do their daily tasks."

You believe his words as this time, the little bundle of nerves in your stomach disappears but another knot is waiting in queue to get untied. "That must be true," you admit silently before staring at the barely-filled street in front of you. People like you and Yuta aren't as customised to a regular life, hence the reason why you still fear running into people at 7 am. But Yuta seems to know the case well and you can only make up from that, that he does these things more often than you know.

"How often do you come here?" You ask him upon realising how he also seems to know which way he has to take. It's obviously something people habituated here should know but you are still unfamiliar with the little alleys between buildings, unlike Yuta who took your hand and pulled you along, reaching the destination in a shorter amount of time than you estimated. "Maybe weekly, usually I come here at night to take a stroll. People sometimes get drunk so there will not be evidence if they catch me walking," he reasons.

Before a soft response in the shape of a sigh escapes your lips, you purse them together and opt to consider your words. The way Yuta mentions people and getting caught brings a high wave of anxiety to your stomach: the wild sea almost reaching to your heart. "So you did get caught?" your question stays unanswered for the first few seconds and once you look over at Yuta, you notice that he seems to be heavily considering his next move. "Someone saw me but as there has been so much gossip and the man was drunk, no one really believed his story."

This time you opt to not respond at all, you don't even have to purse your lips in order to stay quiet. You try to understand the prequel of the situation you find yourself in: allowing your love to bloom in another place than the greenhouse but the unwritten sequel might not be filled with blooming or freedom. You have to do things differently in the present in order to change the future but you don't take that opportunity. You only hold Yuta's hand tighter as your feet are aligned with his with each step you take further into the homeworld of humanity.

"It is a good thing to escape from the greenhouse for a bit. It doesn't give you the freedom you need even if you think it does," Yuta says. He notices you've gone completely mute by now, purposely not speaking because you are distrustful towards him or the surroundings. You nod your head as you're aware: you act like the greenhouse gives you an immeasurable amount of freedom but still, you find yourself between four walls that keep you secured in place.

"I am aware," you tell Yuta. Subjectively, it sounds like a way to make him stop talking because you're only getting more stressed but from the objective perspective, you're only answering to his previous words. Just like roses naturally grow thorns, you naturally grew the thought that you will never experience true freedom because even in this situation, you feel far from free.

"Shall we continue our walk? It looks beautiful so far."

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

Inquisitive thinking such as exploration, investigation, and learning. It can be observed by anyone who is able to keep an eye on you despite Yuta making it clear that you were safe from the eye of the public. Your urge to explore and investigate could easily be called: curiosity. It's not something you can be blamed for because even Yuta is still curious about the real outside world after coming here on a weekly basis. You are not only curious about what the eye meets but also things you cannot observe: like the inhabitants that must lead their lives in this area or how it must feel to be able to lead a life in this context. Houses aren't overly large and there seems to be a lack of space due to the buildings not having gaps between one another.

Every couple of minutes you have been able to quietly observe as people passed by. You stared at them and wondered what it was like to randomly walk over the street and not tease a future drama about it. Luckily for you, you don't think people saw you staring at them which hopefully also meant that they didn't see you at all.

"Are you hungry? You must be, we left so early you probably didn't get breakfast served yet. Am I right?" Yuta asks you as soon as the street once again is empty enough for his regular voice to come through. Normally he could not care less about it but knowing you are a bit uneasy with the entire situation, he pours some water into the wine to make it taste less bitter.

Your eyes scan around before you choose to reply to his words with a small hum. You are quite hopeful to think that the end of your adventure is near but that story seems to unfold itself differently. "We should get some bread by the bakery," he carelessly suggests. With those words being said, you're left more than speechless. Do you want to decline? Yes, you do, but you dismiss the words and your heap of thoughts. Perhaps if you don't respond, you won't get food and Yuta will take the hint.

"How about that, y/n?"

Internally you use foul language to express your feelings but those words don't come to an official outing because it would be highly impolite. "How about what?" you ask him even though you know what he is asking you about, and acting like you didn't hear what he said might just give you an extra few seconds to decide whether that's a good idea or not. "How about getting bread at the bakery?" he repeats his words from before in a slightly different hue but they still mean the same.

"We can't do that, Yuta," you tell him before you're able to stop your mouth from opening. The sigh that leaves your lips once the words had escaped was one you had been keeping in for a couple of minutes too long: it's a long one that draws out the feelings you've been silently experiencing.

"Why not?" Yuta asks as he tries to discreetly point towards one of the buildings that you already passed by, a bakery where you could smell fresh bread and other related pastries but had passed by without giving it a glance as the owner stood outside of his shop to promote mouth-to-mouth. "The bakery is right there, we can just get some bread and eat it before I bring you home again."

"For starters, we did not bring any money to hand the man and I would still like to keep it quiet that we are here," you tell Yuta just in case he forgot the obvious. There are some extra excuses you could come up with but that would make things only less believable when the truth already escaped from your parted lips. "How did you want to get bread?" You ask as you await to hear his plan. With that, you only confuse yourself more: first, you decline his idea before you ask how he was planning on doing it. Were you just tolerable because Yuta and you shared a little more than just hand-holding?

"Either of us can distract him," Yuta simply stated, his fabric-covered shoulders moving up and down in a matter of seconds as he shrugged. The plan was clear in his head but the words made you only more confused. He noticed the look on your face and leaned closer to your face, his face tilting as he moved forward a bit more to speak to you. "And the other one can just take the bread."

Two reactions occur at the same time: either way you widen your eyes and at the same time, you shake your head rapidly. The ridiculous idea leaves you to have a moment of distrust in Yuta.

"Absolutely not, we're not going to steal. You can eat along with us tonight," you say instantly before you are able to process that it is not close to dinnertime. Though they would still serve you food if you asked for it. "Where did you even get that idea?" you ask as you stop your feet abruptly and turn your body towards Yuta.

Even though the regret kicks in, he doesn't back away and turns his body towards yours. A scolding is what he expects, perhaps because his parents would even be capable of killing him if they knew he suggested stealing from a baker.

He sighs and brings his left hand up to rub over his face, his fingertips harshly pressing against his skin and cheekbones. "Sorry," he apologises to you, wrapping his mind around the reality of the situation. He never stole anything before and suddenly he suggests stealing some fresh bread, something he did with a blank mind despite the setup he made a few seconds prior to telling you.

"It should be time to head back," you change the subject in order to once more buy more time for yourself. You try not to be judgemental because you know Yuta well enough by now: he's not the average wealthy man that you meet at a banquet. He's the rebellious young man that intrigues you and pulls you into his world. There don't seem to be risks in his life and if there are then he simply ignores the possible consequences: it doesn't give a great first impression but is like the sweetest song, sung by angels and it only pulls you in more.

The way back is filled with silence even though the surroundings seem extra loud, it's just the silence that makes the rest increase in volume. There's only one commonly shared word now that you're on the way back: it's Yuta who has his one-end conversation of saying "sorry." but you opt to give a soft breath and silence as a response.

Instead of Yuta dragging you along like earlier in the morning, it's you who marches towards your home. Yuta follows behind you, his fingers twitching now that he's unable to hold onto your hand. His eyes meet with the ground many times as he fears to see you going up the steps and inside without saying your goodbye to him.

Upon the ground and through the grass, his feet walk on the exact same spots that you walk but in relay. One little glance up and he notices that your property is already under his feet but you're not marching towards the home, instead, you're leading him towards the greenhouse. It makes him want to smile but he's unable to, his lips form in a thin line as he perplexes himself with the many different emotions.

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

"Why did you suggest stealing the bread?"

The question doesn't catch Yuta off guard as he expected it sooner or later but at the same time, he's at a loss for words and doesn't know which excuse would be accepted. No excuse should be accepted and he's aware of that: which is why he stays silent and considers his words for a decent amount of time. You're not impatient, even kind enough to give him time to reflect on himself. In the meantime, you keep yourself busy organising some of the gardening tools: that way the workers don't have to put effort into it and you have some wasted time that goes by just a little faster than when you're not doing anything.

"I don't know, I really don't know. But I regret even thinking about it or imagining it," Yuta tells you as an answer, you could tell he genuinely thought but ended up concluding nothing because it perhaps was something that happened without him realising. His fingertips trace over the carved Satyr on the bench, it feels empty enough without you sitting next to him.

He eyes you as you are busy organising different tools, it's no use but you still do so. "I hope you are being truthful," you mumble as you drop the pair of gardening gloves next to the other materials before looking at him. Still, you don't look with judging eyes but you try to look through the facade to see whether he is truthful. You ask yourself whether you doubt him or not: you didn't doubt his truthfulness but his intention of stealing the bread. A selfish thought in your head tells you he wanted to steal it so that you could be fed, and it's a good assumption but you try not to fall for your misleading mind.

"I mean it y/n, I truly don't know"

There's no such thing as a correct answer in this given context but you're willing to take the answer because you trust Yuta and he sounds genuine when he says that he doesn't know. You wish you could hear a proper set of words but you could also wish that the situation hadn't occurred at all: that would be a much better wish to make. But there was no genie to grant your wishes, especially not when the situation already passed by.

"I'm sorry," Yuta says when he thinks you're not going to grant him forgiveness. You are so quiet that Yuta can't help but drown in guilt whilst you are watching from afar.

The seconds continue to tick by, they seem to get lengthier as you don't immediately respond to the apology. Eventually, you have no other option than to give him an honest response. "It's not me that deserves an apology."

Yuta nods as a signal he understands what you mean, he should be apologising to the baker for the things that almost happened. "I know," he murmurs in an almost inaudible tone, his eyes on the bench on which his fingertips endlessly trace over the carved figures.

After letting out a sigh that withheld mixed emotions, you sat down on the bench next to Yuta. In the end, you decide to forgive him because you can't blame him for things that didn't happen yet. "We should indeed buy some bread there next time, the scent was heavenly," you say with a small smile on your lips as you rest your hand upon Yuta's shoulder. Slowly, you let that hand creep up to his hair to gently comb through the locks.

"It did and I knew we were both hungry," he starts his reply, relaxation slowly dawns on him as he feels your gentle touch through his hair. It nearly makes him miss the moral of your words, nearly. "Did you say next time? Do you want to go there again?"

You smile once his realisation comes, or perhaps because you think back about the good time you had despite the anxious feeling and Yuta's dumb mistake. "I do, I enjoyed it. Not weekly but perhaps every once in a while," you say honestly.

The freedom you felt outside seemed unreal: there had been moments where anxiety filled your body to the brim but at the same time, looking at the world whilst walking around in it was positively different from looking at it through large windows.

Your hand slips from Yuta's brown locks when he turns his head towards you. "I think I am in love," he whispers a second after you look back at him, your head tilted to see his healing smile from a different point of view.

"With me?" You question hopefully as you feel bumblebees buzzing in your stomach, the sweet honey nearly edible on the tip of your tongue. A laugh falls from Yuta's lips but he rapidly reacts by nodding his head "of course with you, there has been one person that makes my heart swell. And that person is you," he explains, his eyes widening slightly as he confesses his romantic attachment to you.

There is a quiet second, interrupted by a sound of surprise aligned with Yuta's laughter. By your reaction, Yuta senses that you feel the same and is quick to make his next move. He inches himself closer to you before placing an unexpected and soft peck against your lips. Before you have the opportunity to return the kiss, your lips are distanced and smiles are unconsciously appearing.

"I might just be in love with you too."

〚 IV ; quattuor 〛

"Were you aware that the moonlight changes every day?"

Your head that has been tilted upwards towards the glass roofing slowly lowers itself for you to properly look at Yuta as he speaks. In response, you shake your head and twitch your fingers subconsciously as a sign for him to explain his random particle of information.

"The intensity of moonlight varies greatly, as stated, it depends on the lunar phase," Yuta explains to you as he notices your light motion and the interest on your face. You continue to look at him as he speaks, together with nodding, those two things make it obvious that you are listening actively to every word he says.

"Does it not depend on our eyes as well?" You ask as you silently wondered about it when he was speaking. You think your eyes are not always prepared to see the same amounts of light: especially not very bright hues. Yuta shows the same interest that you showed him not long ago and nods his head when you finish your question "hm, I think it does."

After that, a moment of silence settles down. Both of you occupied by the subject of moonlight and its daily-changing intensity. To speak honestly, there is no need to ponder about it for much longer, and yet, you two seem silently captivated by the subject. Perhaps because the moonlight is currently bringing a hint of its brightness into the nightfall.

You are the first one to break the silence because you feel how your head automatically moves upwards to look at the source of light and the acquaintance of darkness in the sky. "The moon is so beautiful," is what you tell Yuta who can't help but hum in agreement. His mind is only partially on the moon, as are his eyes because other things steal his attention.

"It is, sometimes I watch the moon from my room but watching it here makes it so much more pleasant," he answers as he not-so-gently throws his head back to look through the glass roof. The moon might be pulchritudinous but the true beauty comes from you. Yet, his words aren't complete nonsense. He watches the moon when he is alone in his room but while doing so, he thinks about you which makes him stare without being able to see much.

You smile at the words, your fingertips running over the back of his hand in a relaxed manner. "Me too," you say simply, your lower lip painlessly tucked between your teeth before you decide on confessing the other half of the story. "When I do, I think about you. That you must be in your room: asleep or watching the moon too."

It's awfully cliché but that is a side effect of lovers who have not been sharing a romance for longer than six months. Yuta doesn't show a negative reaction, he thinks it's wholesome that you feel that way, he feels the same way but does not admit it yet because he loves imagining that you think about him at night.

"Is that why we are here together tonight? For you to secretly stare at me instead of the moon?" Yuta playfully asks you as he inches closer to you, it's a playful moment even if he's guilty to the things he is teasing you with. "That was the plan, but I got caught," you answer with a smile as your own body moves closer.

"You know what happens to those who sin," Yuta mentions with a small smirk, his hands moving away from yours to instead embrace your waist. It's an easy way to pull you closer and have some physical contact at the same time, and he takes advantage of the moment do to both of those. His fingertips press against your covered skin as he runs slow and steady circles in an attempt to explore more of you.

You hum soft, an act that you do not care about the consequences of those who sin. In reality, you do care because the consequences are far from pleasant. Being in the contextual element, you know this is not about the harsh punishments people receive upon committing a true sin. Both of you are young enough to modernise the meaning of sin.

"Tell me what happens to those who sin?" You ask as your head wants to lower once more, but Yuta's lips press against the side of your neck, requiring you to keep your head upwards for a little longer.

Yuta's teeth gently nip at your skin when he hears your question, soothing the gnaw with the tip of his tongue. "Why should I explain, it seems like you're about to find out for yourself," he says before he clicks his tongue in a cocky way. Confidence and pride fight for the lead in his heart but lust takes the crown mercilessly.

The first sigh of pleasure leaves your lips after a soft hiss does, but the slight pain of his teeth brings you towards an unexpected amount of pleasure.

"Be mine," Yuta mumbles, the words not far from inaudible because his lips are hastily pressing kisses against your neck while he speaks. "I will be the one who loves you," he continues as now, between every word, the kisses seem to increase their lustful intentions.

You want to respond to the words, tell him you're his and his only but the forming drive to pleasure prevents you from wasting time on explanations. As if his kisses are not satisfying enough, his fingertips go underneath the attire that covers your bare skin. Due to the warmth of your clothing and the coldness of his fingertips, you shiver when his fingertips patch over your thighs.

"Yuta," the way you breathe out his name signals that you're asking for his attention. Your body is fighting against it and wants to beg for more but those words do not articulate on your lips, something holds you back from asking for more intimacy. "This is not right, imagine what would happen if they found out," you reason despite your body urging you to get closer so that his fingertips trail to more sensitive spots. The consequences wouldn't be mild if anyone found out, it's not Yuta who makes the situation problematic, but the authorities and religion that decides that the closest form of intimacy should not occur until marriage.

"Hence why I said I would make you mine, y/n, and trust me…," Yuta starts as his lips trace upwards, leaving the trail of hot kisses to go from the side of your neck towards your ear. His breathing is deep, driven by lust as even your scent is enough to make him want more. "…I will make you mine," he whispers.

The decisive whisper is answered by a solemn nod from you: you trust Yuta but it's mostly your own senses that tell you to stop protesting against it. Yuta's eyes let you undergo an examination, just to check whether you were okay with this. "I'm yours," you whisper as you connect your lips with his for a heated kiss.

The words "I'm yours," seem to split in two as both of you take the words in a different way, and you are yet to find out Yuta's true meaning behind the words. In your eyes, you had been his the second you went from acquaintances to love interests and it still was now that you officially were hidden lovers.

“Only the united beat of sex and heart together can create ecstasy.”

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

Dawn. The first appearance of light in the sky before sunrise.

Dawn. The beginning of a phenomenon or period of time, especially one considered favourable.

Three minutes before there were only ten minutes left until the clock pointed its smallest hand at five. That was dawn. The way you silently laid against Yuta's side on a marble bench, your head resting against the area where you could listen to his heartbeat. That was dawn.

Moonlight chased away the shadows of the night and replaced it with the first light of a new day.

Your eyes are closed but that doesn't mean that you're asleep, for a few hours you have been dozing in and out of catnaps. None of the short amounts of time long enough for a dream, but you feel like you're living in one, so it's not needed to live in a visual world with your eyes closed.

Yuta seems asleep, you can hear by the way he breathes and you can feel by the slow beat of his heart. Sixty-one beats per minute is what you observed on a moment that you were sure he was in dreamland, but keeping track of the number of heartbeats and seconds was a difficult combination. Thus, it could have been a little bit more or some less.

After letting out a soft sound of tiredness, you open your eyes and greet the greenery with a small smile. Though it's mostly the memories that make you smile: memories of the nightfall and its nocturnal ventures. Your mind still holds on to the momentum: the patches of Yuta's fingertips on your skin, the whispers of naughty and nice, the swelling of your heart out of love and the ecstasy that mixed itself due to the heart and sex combining.

A red-pink-coloured flower greets you in its full bloom, it stands out next to the few pastel purple flowers. You can imagine the scent, or you think you can, but you realise you are lying between nothing but greenery and flowers that bloom.

The peaceful moment gets interrupted by deafening noises outside the glasshouse, they aren't extremely loud but the many different audible triggers are blaring. Yet, you're too far away from the window to properly look through it and the bloomed red roses are in front of the nearest window. It's not unusual for these noises to be heard, the time is what makes it strange. But you don't pay attention to it, not more than needed, or so you like to think.

"What are those noises?"

Your eyes shift from the red roses that cover the window towards your lover, it means that you have to turn your body slightly so that you can comfortably look at him. Once you're in a comfortable position, you smile at the sight.

Yuta looks tired and well-rested at the same time, his smile is small but the corners of his lips are twitched upwards the moment he sees your face. "I think someone just left or arrived, usually it is when they are looking for something or about transport," you answer his question so that you have more time to look at him without having to interrupt the moment.

His tired lips press a soft kiss on the corner of your mouth before he draws your body closer to his. "Good morning, by the way," he whispers as he distances his lips from yours properly. "Good morning."

Momentarily, you see Yuta disappearing from the real world and towards his own forest of thoughts. The thought about the shared intimacy come back to life there together with each minuscule aspect that he was able to observe with his five basic senses.

"I meant it yesterday."

You look at him while confusion is written on your face, rather than it's written on your features, there's a ceramic stamp all over your face. "You meant what," you ask and once more turn yourself more towards him so that it's easier to communicate. Before he speaks up, you try to recall everything that has been said yesterday but only two kinds of words come to mind: the sinful words and the outings of genuine love.

"I will make you mine," Yuta answers, quoting them as he said them yesterday. Yesterday or today, the words were still confusing. You already considered yourself as his, but he seemed to wander on a different part there.

Due to the sweetness of the words, you display a small smile but it doesn't fully replace the confusion that primarily outed itself. "I'm yours, Yuta," you tell him in case he suspects you might think otherwise. Perhaps he only saw you as a love interest until now, or perhaps he thinks you see him as nothing but a love interest.

"I mean, truly make you mine. I will love you, worry about you, and be responsible for you," he starts explaining before he stops talking, something rests on the tip of his tongue and he's not going to withhold himself from saying it. The set of critical words are more grand and they leave his mouth once his lips part.

"I want to marry you."

〚 V ; quīnque 〛

Yuta's fingertips are circled up against the palm of his hand, clenched in an angry fist. His footsteps are quick as he makes his way through the formation - that just like him is on the move - , harshly speaking he seems like a soldier marching towards the enemy with a loaded gun between his fingers. He doesn't get distracted by the walking of the people that try to hold him back without using the direct signals that they are trying to stop him.

Perhaps if his wardrobe would have allowed it, he would have been able to fit in with the crowd without getting caught in the act. But his clothes were surprisingly different from their attire: his black coat draped over his shoulders and the gold-coloured details on each visible border are shaped as non-existent flowers.

In his brain, he can clearly recall when you said a situation like this was not completely unusual. Still, the situation was unexplainable to him. It seemed like they were after him: not to chase him and get him off the property but almost leading him inside your home. The place where he had only been once to attend the banquet. Fairly speaking, he did not want to go inside because he would probably see your parents but if he wanted to find you, he would have to go inside

"Would you let my son in without those bastards circling him like he is a prey."

Yuta slowly looks up when he hears the familiar voice saying the words that only make his suspicion turn into facts. His eyes fall on his own father standing next to yours: while your father looks overly satisfied with his arrival, his own father looks slightly disappointed and his pokerface shows a lot more emotion than it should.

"What is going on?" Yuta asks as he glances between the two men for an answer, he knows he's being led by an army of people around him but he wants a clear answer of the things that are going on. When your father only motions for him to follow inside, he roughly marches forward, perhaps a little bit too unrestrained as people are no longer forcing him in direction of the door. "You may come in, Yuta."

Doing as he's asked, Yuta starts to walk up the steps towards the door before following his and your father further inside the place. With each step, he feels a heavy weight being added onto his shoulder and it is almost as if he left his courage at the lowest step of the stairs. Despite already feeling anxious, he makes it worse by starting to look around: not to claim furniture that your father would gift when feeling generous but to check if he could see any traces of you.

Whilst observing he can almost say that he doesn't know whether this family has children, there are no traces of you or something that reminds him of you. It's not even the lack of cohort portraits, it is the lack of personality that this place holds.

"Why don't you sit here with us?" Your father suggests as he walks into the room where he had been with Yuta's father minutes earlier, discussing merely one subject with a filled liquor glass in their hands. The seat where his father sat was still pulled out, signalling it had not been time to bid each other farewell yet. Once his own father takes a seat and your father does too, he sits on the leftover seat.

"I would like to ask why you came here? Or why you have been here almost every day for the past time…" Your father asks but the words suggest for Yuta to speak up so that they don't have to pull the words out of his lips. He doesn't feel like they just caught him in the act but manages to feel the astonishment.

Yuta clears his throat, swallowing the saliva-filled nerves before he speaks up. "I come here for y/n, we enjoy spending time together," the word he tells don't lie but he keeps all of the details behind for as long as he can. Not because he's ashamed or doesn't want to admit to your relationship, but because he feels the urge to protect you.

"And you lure y/n with you into town?"

That is the moment where he feels like he got caught, simply because of you, who had been so scared to get caught whilst walking on the most regular streets in town. He wonders how they found out he took you to town but also considered inhabitants possibly recognising him or you.

"For a simple walk, I had no intention of luring her to town with bad consequences," Yuta explains. But by the expression on your father's face, he can recognise that his explanation didn't add much positivity to the story.

"That is what they all claim, young man. But I hope you realise that y/n will not be at hand to marry you," your father says and before he can comment, saying that that will happen even if your father says no, his father takes the wheel. "If you do not allow my son to marry y/n, I demand us to nullify our exchanges."

The protection from his father gives him courage, he had never expected his father to give protection in this context but misses the clue that his father is only trying to protect future exchanges and deals. Perhaps he misses the clue because they say love makes people blind and he is deeply in love with you. Without suspecting the next step, he waits for your father to give his comment.

"Consider them nullified."

Yuta's father raises from his chair soon after the words are spoken out loud. "I suggest we return homewards, Yuta," he says to his son as he clears his throat uncomfortably. Yuta is unable to perform anything, staring at your father but he is left speechless and frozen in his spot. "Yuta," his father calls out for him again, this time successfully receiving Yuta's attention.

"I will not leave, not until you give me a fair chance to marry y/n. We have a lot in common and both of us want to take the following step," Yuta claims, his voice getting louder as he feels misunderstood. He wasn't just a young man who lured you into town for his own pleasure, he was a young man who wanted to spend the rest of his life together with you. "y/n and I are in love."

Your father is the second one to raise from his chair, marching the short distance between his and Yuta's chair. "Listen to me, Nakamoto Yuta," he starts before he presses his hand against Yuta's shoulder blade. It's not a light touch but Yuta is too stubborn to show his usual strong reactions. "We do not marry out of love, we marry for money and profit. But I require my son in law to have manners, and that is something your parents never taught you."

"I love y/n, and you cannot stop me from doing so," Yuta says as he pushes away your father's hand from his shoulder, he stands up from his chair and turns towards your father. Due to the height difference, it seems like Yuta is in charge but that's only an illusion.

"You are right, I can't stop you from loving y/n," your father admits. Once again Yuta fails to see a detail, this time blinded by his pride when he hears the words. It's a calm moment before the storm, and the storm is only a few seconds away. "Too bad I can stop you from getting married to y/n, and I will do anything. Even if it costs you your life."

Minutes later, the three of them are walking the large hallway in order to get Yuta and his father out of the building. Yuta's fists are clenched as he only states in front of him while walking: angry with the world, disappointed in himself.

An employé opens the large front door for Yuta and his father to for the last time leave this place without ever returning. Exchanges and money-related deals are officially unchained the moment his father walks out of the door. "I suggest you leave now," your father says as he motions his hand towards the outside world, an impolite gesture in Yuta's eyes.

"Allow me to do one more thing before I leave," Yuta says as his feet step closer to the wall, plucking the only decoration from its designated location. The flag's fabric is rich in texture and feels soft under his rough fingerprints, but the feeling in Yuta's hands is too bitter to botire the softness. "As a last gift to you."

A smirk displays on his lips as he glances between his own father and your father. He knows he will get scolded by his own father for playing a dirty trick like this, but he cannot care less about that. His pride and love are on the line and he will not allow anyone to touch either of the two.

"You see this flag right?" Yuta asks as his hand smoothes over the details of the flag before he grips the flag at two of the corners with his hands. The flag is fully stretched between his hands: showing the coat of arms to who he now considered as the enemy. One harsh movement and the flag showed its first rip: the start of something grander than separation. "I would be careful with your words, my life could be spared but yours not," he says to your father before he ceremonially rips the flag in two separate pieces.

The two pieces sadly dwindle onto the ground but Yuta is the only one looking at them with a proud smile on his lips. He momentarily doesn't think of the consequences this has for you: pride takes over his senses. He steps over the piece that holds the coat of arms of your family while he steps out of the door.

"Farewell for now."

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

Unlike Yuta is told, he doesn't exactly leave the property. Told his father that he was going to walk home because he was in need of time alone to reflect on himself. Walked towards the greenhouse in order to meet you.

Seeing you in the greenhouse had been his intention from the moment he arrived but without a chance had lost his non-physical fight against the people that worked for your father. Now he probably was over an hour late to see you, perhaps you even left because you thought he tricked you.

There is a lump in his throat as he walks into the greenhouse and immediately closes the glass door behind him. The greenery doesn't tell him whether you are still here waiting for him but he doesn't ask about it either. His footsteps are quick and headed towards the bench where the two of you usually sit. More than just sitting had happened on the bench but lustful thoughts are not priority.

"y/n?" He calls out your name through the greenhouse but in the meanwhile doesn't stop his footsteps towards the familiar bench. His eyes are busy, wandering around the available space with the hope of you still being here. Soon enough his eyes meet with the red roses that cover the glass window, a sign that he is close to the bench. His body turns, almost dramatically as he knows he will, either way, see you or the empty bench now.

Despite the situation, a smile appears on his lips as he sees you sitting on the bench. "I missed you," he says as he walks towards you and plops himself down on the other side of the bench.

His words are left unanswered and after glancing at you, Yuta realises you look far from happy. "Is something wrong?" He asks you, his hand moving to your thigh, softly stroking over the fabric-covered skin. Deep inside, he knows why you stay quiet but he tries to convince himself that his thoughts are incorrect. "I bet you already know," you whisper.

Your whisper allows Yuta to let out a breath, his nostrils moving as the air is blown out. Momentarily, he doesn't know what to say because what he's supposed to say conflicts with what he wants to say. He needs to say that he is not allowed to marry you but he wants to tell you to run away with him and marry in secret.

"I am not allowed to wed you," you say softly. The heartbreak when you say those words intensifies: first it seemed mere cracks but now that you say the words, your heart is ripped in two pieces. Yuta nods his head, silencing himself by tugging his lip between his teeth. Yet, he can't help but speak "flee. We can do it together and marry without anyone finding out who we are and where we are."

The tempting words are like poison: appealing to you but there is no way back once you took a sip. "What will happen to us? We have nowhere to go, we won't have anyone but each other," you clarify as you once again are afraid to get caught like the time in town. At first, it seemed like no one found out, until today when your father stated the facts.

"Having each other is plenty. I will make up a plan and then we can run together," Yuta says as he takes both of your hands in his. The moment is intense because you're expected to say yes or no: you would say no because of your families and not having anything when you flee, but yes because you promised forever to Yuta and you don't want anything more than having that forever.

Without waiting for your answer, Yuta stands up and pulls you up on your feet gently. "Five days, we leave in exactly five days. Midnight and I will pick you up here, on the bench, in the glasshouse," he clearly states the words so that you'll remember them. You rest your hand against his chest, gripping the expensive fabric of his blazer before your grip loosens.

"I will be waiting for you,"

〚 VI ; sex 〛

Five days consisting of one hundred twenty hours.

One hundred twenty hours consisting of seven thousand two hundred minutes.

Seven thousand two hundred minutes consisting of four hundred thirty-two thousand seconds.

For you, time delays more than normal. Over recent days, you had a speed course on levelling up your provisional skills: lying to your father that you ground yourself in your room because you're heartbroken while you're plotting freedom with the love of your life. It's not an easy task but your father allows it, as long as he can lodge a complaint about Yuta and his family during dinner. You don't talk back to your father because you don't want him to suspect a thing: you simply listen and fraud your tears once or twice.

Yuta journals time in a different way. The hours tick by without difficulty even though he mainly stays in his bedchamber as well: he quietly coats his walls with removable ink that he's been given and draws shapes of patches of land or writes possible destinations as well as a list of things that need to be purchased in advance. Each dinner he will show up for a short amount of time, aside from the day that he stays in the common room until his father goes to bed, that night he lets his hand wander to a treasure of capital and hastily hides it in his blazer's pocket. Stolen money that he wordlessly promises to return one day, but the day would never come.

Whenever the nightfall takes place, both you and Yuta look out of the window: greeting the darkness as you wordlessly wish for one another: thoughts of the night where forever has been a given and received promise tend to come back. It's a coincidence that your desire of Yuta doing the same comes true, but he's simply so in love with you and can't stop himself from thinking about you.

With a little less than four hours to go, Yuta permanently leaves his room. His clothes are deftly hanging in his wardrobe and there's no doubt that dust will coat the exorbitant fabrics. The walls that had been scribbled full are now empty, not a trace of the plans revealed upon the wall. Just like they creatively appeared, they disappeared when Yuta washed them off. Something he takes along with him, is, money and the outfit that is wrapped around his body right now: primarily he is only in need of you and the rest belongs to an unnecessary subordinate.

Once his bedroom has been left, the rest follows minutes after. His father is left the moment Yuta soundlessly passes by his office. His entire home is left behind the moment he steps outside and pulls the door shut. Naturally, those things happen and he doesn't feel any remorse for doing so, he is willing to do anything for the person he loves.

From his property, his first destination is the town. If there is something that might make the flight more serene, it's food to keep both of you alive in the first days of survival. He goes to the bakery that he almost stole from once: a memory he can't help but relive because, despite its negative undertone, the memory consists of you.

The queue at the bakery is not overly long, a handful of people seem willing to buy the fresh-smelling bread. Just as willing as he is, perhaps they need it for survival purposes as well. Two women are in front of him and either of them is accompanied by a child that doesn't look older than five: it's not their turn yet hence why they spent their time being a human newspaper. "Did you hear? Apparently, y/n has been found dead," the words flow from her mouth.

For the first time, Yuta heard what they are talking about. Normally he isn't interested in news brought by human newspapers: what they tell us usually something sugar-coated or filled with a spoonful of sea salt. Your name is the trigger for him to listen, but what follows after, completely triggers him.

"When?" The other woman asks to keep the conversation running and Yuta can't help but allow all of his senses to work together. His ears have to listen as he tries to use his eyes for their body language, on the tip of his tongue is a bitter taste and he can feel tears forming in his eyes. "Last night they say, she was caught and murdered by someone that works for their family."

The words leave Yuta frozen in his spot, the coins that were resting in the palm of his hand are clenched between his fingertips as they form into a tight but sad fist. "Excuse me," he quickly mutters after his body is turned towards the exit, pushing through the few people that are lined up behind him.

Without bread, he leaves the bakery. His footsteps don't match up with the pace he wants to reach: sloppily walking as his mind is as mushy as porridge even though in his mind, he is running as fast as he can towards you.

"I need to get there," he ends up muttering to himself. Realisation of his hindered pace comes after he realises that the past ten steps didn't take him further than to the corner of the street. In that critical moment, his feet finally set off to a faster running pace.

Even if the past five days had gone by rapidly, time now went slower than it ever did before. His footsteps didn't change the pace of time, because no matter how fast he went, it seemed like he didn't reach much further. Tirelessly, his feet continued to run until the first changes in scenery were noticeable.

The streets from town slowly started to disappear, replaced by an uncountable amount of greenery. The only real street was in the form of a path that led him only further into the greenery.

Due to the fast running, his feet tend to oversee the details of the greenery underneath. The first time he stumbles it's over his own clumsy feet. The second time he stumbles and falls it's due to the roots of the tree that cross his path. His black-clothed pants are dirt covered when he sits up on his knees before standing up on his feet again.

"I will take responsibility for you till the end"

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

The rose as red as blood is the only visible factor as he glances through the window of the greenhouse. His hands are pressed on the glass for a direct look upon the bench that's inside: but the red flower prevents him from seeing anything. Now that he thinks about it, he remembers how the roses shielded anyone from seeing the pureness of your bodies as you made love underneath the light of the moon.

Silence drapes a symbolic flag over the property. It's eerily quiet for a long time but Yuta is too busy to notice the silence until finally, a sound drags him out of his observation process. In surprise due to the sound, his hand flatly places against the glass before his body wildly spins around. The large doors are opened and less than a dozen men walk out: dressed formally as they carry outside a variety of objects that Yuta can't make out in of the near distance.

He can recognise the colours printed on the flag, by the things he's been taught, he concludes that this will be the raised flag for the upcoming time. A time of mourning hence the monochrome colour of the flag. He thickly swallows before letting out a cough when the saliva collects at the back of his throat.

Unable to withhold himself from performing sentiments, he screams out of wretchedness. Knees colliding with the ground for the fifth time that day, but the pain is zilch compared to the heartache that burns through his shirt. When he thought his heart would no longer beat, the pace quickened due to one of the men signalling another by pointing near the source of sound. On his knees, Yuta crawled to the large door, letting himself in after he reached up to pull the handle.

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

"J'aime tes pleurs. C'est la rosée qui sied aux fleurs"

Rather than the passionate red roses, blue colourized roses are plucked by Yuta's fingertips. Like you once tutored him: red roses symbolise passionate love and blue roses symbolise unrequited and unreachable love. His promise of never giving you flowers is disintegrated.

In front of Yuta's blurry vision are continuous drips. One drop, two drops and still going. His teardrops landing on top of the sadly fallen flower petals, withering together as a sign of grief.

Memories fall like rain at dawn with each blue rose that Yuta plucks: one for the banquet where you two met for the first time, one for your first shared kiss, one for the endless talks in this greenhouse, one for the intimacy under the moonlight, and the last one for forever that will never come but always be yours.

Five roses are clenched between his fingertips, strongly held as the thorns press into the thin skin. The spring shower of memories stops the moment he spins his body towards he bench, a loud sob wrecking his vocal cords.

"y/n," he calls out to you as he walks up to the bench, his knees willingly giving out right in front of the bench. The place where your body was laid to rest until further notice: the place where you would be at peace, the place where love bloomed much like flowers. Your parted lips almost indicate you want to call out to him too, but your body is still and so are your non-existing words.

"I brought you these flowers," Yuta says softly as he places the five bundled flowers between your folded hands, the coldness of your fingers lingering against his skin until he backs away. "I know you explicitly told me to not gift you flowers but these will not wither, they will bloom," he whispers as his twitching fingertips ache to touch you, but out of fear, he can only let them caress over the rose petals.

His head comes to rest against the edge of the bench. "I hope you like them," he whispers as he can only look at the ground in sadness, shame, heartbreak. His blurry vision detects coral beads on the floor next to something that looks like a brown bean.

Abrus precatorius.

From another memory together with you he remembers the flowering plan out of the bean family. The plant is best known for its seeds, or better said beads that are toxic due to the presence of abrin. Ingestion of a single seed can be fatal to both adults and children.

An old symbol of love in China, which they call "相思豆" or "mutual love bean". A deadly love bean is what humans would tend to call it within the town, simply because they had no idea of official wordings or the dangers of the plant.

Yuta swallows thickly, almost like one of the seeds is on the tip of his tongue and he needs to swallow it. But the bitter feeling on his tongue is due to the realisation of what truly happened.

"I understand y/n. Even if fate separates us, all your tear-drenched memories will die in my embrace," He whispers. The fingertips of his right hand move towards your cheek, stroking over the skin daintily. The tender touch is cold but the warmth of love fills his blind heart. Beneath the bench, his left hand clutches a handful of coral beads.

The decorational plant beads rest in his hand as he brings them up to his mouth. A mutual love bean: cause of death for the love of his life, and soon to be his own as well.

Well-chewed, he swallows the seeds all at once. A breath escapes from his lips as he soon allows his head to lay against your shoulder, your stiff and cold body, pillowed by a thin layer of white lace that covers your skin.

His brown eyes eternally stare towards the love of his life. His broken heart swallows the tears for the deep pierced scars to get healed by the droplets, as a consequence, death starts blooming from the cracks of his heart. Before nightfall spreads over the glasshouse, his solitary serenade is heard.

"Rather than living without your love, I'll die with hatred. When we meet again, I hope we bloom as flowers."

[bunnimew]

Starstruck 2: Lost at Sea

Fandom: Rise of the Guardians Relationship: Jack Frost/Pitch Black Also featuring: Jamie Bennett Tags: Mermaid AU, Modern Mer AU istg, jamie is a good bro, Pitch is The Most Dramatic, There is angst here, there is also fluff, Action Plot! Rating: T Words: 3601 Summary: Sequel to Starstruck Pitch is missing. Jack has to find him. Jamie has to follow Jack, just to make sure he doesn't get eaten by sharks or something.

For RotG Mermay 2021 prompt Mother of Pearl On AO3 Here.

Jack was beside himself with worry.

No one had seen Pitch since yesterday morning. Since Jack said goodbye to him before heading off to work.

Pitch never made it to the theater. No one had seen him at rehearsal the entire day. Jack only found out when he arrived home to an empty house and his agent knocking on the door to ask if Pitch was feeling alright.

Pitch was gone.

And Jack couldn't rest until he found him.

He went straight to Jamie. No one understood how much Jack needed Pitch more than Jamie. Jack talked about Pitch all the time, confided everything to his best friend, which meant Jamie had unique insight into just how broken Jack would be if Pitch never came back. Worse, if Jack didn't even try to find him and it turned out he could have.

Jack didn't know exactly how Jamie was going to help, but he maybe should have predicted that Jamie would grab his pick-shovel and demand to come along.

They were already on their way back to Jack and Pitch's house, their plan set to trace Pitch's path to the theater and start their search there, When Jack decided to try one more time...

"You don't have to come with me, you know."

"You can't stop me, you know."

"I know!" Jack said. His voice was a little high, a little defensive, and very tense. It wasn't Jamie's fault, but Jamie got to hear it anyway. "I'm just making sure. Pitch isn't your fiancé. You're my friend, but… I don't even know what I'm doing, so. I'm just making sure you know you don't have to do this."

Jamie pressed a hand to Jack's shoulder as they swam along, their pale and true blue tails oscillating in an oddly perfect tandem. There was strength in that hold that Jack was sorely missing right now. "And I'm making sure you don't do something stupid, or that at least you don't do it alone."

Jack almost stopped dead in the water, but Jamie’s firm hand kept him moving forward. “It might be better if I did it alone.”

Jamie snorted, the brat. He didn’t even look at Jack when he replied. “Yeah, no. No way. Even if I’m just a witness to what happens to your remains, it’s better if I’m there.”

Jack blinked, taken aback. So much for optimism and solidarity. “You’re just gonna watch me die?”

Jamie shrugged. “Depends on how it happens. I’ll take on a shark for you. I won’t take on twenty sharks for you.” Jamie paused. “Probably.”

It was a bad joke, but it brought the smile back to Jack’s face. He put his hand on Jamie’s shoulder in kind and made his peace with the fact that Jamie was going to waste however much time he wanted on having Jack’s back while Jack went out of his mind searching for Pitch.

And honestly, Jack was thankful.

“I’m going to stop in and change,” Jack said when they reached his door. “I should probably be wearing real clothes when I meet my doom.” That was going to be their running joke now, Jack decided. The thing that kept the tone from getting too heavy to handle. The thing that kept Jack focused on finding Pitch and not focused on the fact that he was lost. “Do you want a jacket or something?”

Jamie started to shake his head, then rethought it. “Actually yeah. Another layer wouldn’t be a bad idea.” He swam over to hold the door when Jack went through. “Got anything fashionable? Something that will make me look badass for our rescue adventure?”

Jack almost laughed. Jamie was an amazing friend. “I’m wearing the badass jacket. You can wear the sexy one.”

“You mean they’re not the same jacket?”

Jamie was right to grab his pick-shovel. It was a tool as much as a weapon, and Jack did also have one, but the only time they needed both was for prying huge chunks of rock out of the ground. The likelihood that Pitch was pinned under something large enough it would take both of them to free him…

Was not zero.

Jack grabbed his pick-shovel.

He also grabbed a bag to put snacks in and the knife North had given him. It was so beautiful and fancy that Jack had never used it before. But it was a knife meant for work, and Jack didn’t know what he might need to cut. So he was bringing it along just in case.

And, also just in case, Jack left his lovely seastar in its feeding tank for safety.

Jamie noticed all of it. “How long do you think we’ll be gone?”

Jack shook his head on his way out the door. “I don’t know. Maybe we’ll be able to come back in between. Maybe we’ll see something and… not be able to come back. I don’t know. But I’m bringing food enough for at least one night.”

“Seems smart,” Jamie agreed. His tone wasn’t in total agreement with his words. Jamie hesitated for the first time since hearing the news, on the idea that they would be at this for long enough that food would be a concern.

“You don’t—”

“Shut up and lead the way,” Jamie interrupted.

Well.

Okay.

Jack turned toward the theater and flicked his tail hard. Jamie would keep up. They had no time to waste.

-o-

“This is the longest I’ve ever swam in one day, I swear.”

Jack agreed. They were following a current that ran… somewhat close to Pitch’s path to the theater. It would have been kind of ridiculous for Pitch to have gotten caught up in it, but with his huge fins and unwieldy tail and, let’s be honest, ridiculous manner, it seemed the most likely thing to have happened.

That, and Jack didn’t have the authority to investigate other mers or search their homes, so it’s not like he could search anything but the natural surrounding area for Pitch.

Jack sighed. He felt defeated. “We can take another break soon. How far do you think he went?”

Jamie slowed and rotated upright in the water. “He could still be trapped in it, Jack. There’s no way to know.” But then he smiled and met Jack’s eyes with honest enthusiasm. “Glad you brought those snacks!”

Jamie was the best friend.

Jack laughed and pulled one out for him. “I really hope my idiot of a fiance is not still tumbling tail over fin in this current. That would be horribly embarrassing and also very inconvenient.”

Jamie nodded. “And very Pitch.”

Jack sighed again, this time put upon. It was true.

Hopefully one day this whole fiasco would be a great story to tell over the dinner table to Pitch’s latest celebrity friends and not the end of his world as he knew it. The cold hand of dread began its now very familiar clutch around Jack’s heart and he struggled to swallow down the rising anxiety and keep his tail moving.

Until Jamie wrapped his arm around Jack’s shoulders, again, and shook him just a little bit. “Don’t worry until we have reason to worry, Jack,” he said. “Let’s find him and figure it out from there.”

Jack agreed, because what else was he supposed to do? Except the nagging thought stuck with him that the hours Pitch had been missing already and the hours Jack and Jamie had spent looking for him were amounting to something to worry about.

So of course when they noticed the sudden plethora of fishing nets, Jack’s worry set sail for the stars and skyrocketed.

“Shark-eye on a woodlouse,” Jack moaned with his face buried in both hands. “They ate him!”

Jamie rolled his eyes and shook Jack by his elbow. “Don’t be dramatic. Pitch has been rubbing off on you.”

Jack shook his head, but kept on. “You know how these things are. Anything and everything gets caught in them and all of it dies. It doesn’t really matter if they ate him, although I’m really hoping they didn’t eat him. If he got caught in one of these nets, he’s gone.”

Jamie didn’t reply. He swam forward with a steady beat of his tail, and that told Jack everything. Jamie was an optimist, but he didn’t want to lie.

These nets meant real danger.

Made more and more evident as they continued to follow the current and found thousands of fish caught up in them. Jack and Jamie had to swim out of the way of sweeping nets more than once and each time, Jack thought of their agility and of Pitch’s huge, billowing tail. This was what got him, Jack was more and more sure. It had to be.

Jack closed his eyes as they swam on, letting Jamie guide their way. If Pitch did get swept up onto a fishing boat, how would Jack ever know for sure? He would just be gone, and Jamie wouldn’t let him mourn if there was still hope left because that’s the kind of person Jamie was. But Jack couldn’t just hope forever and live in that house without Pitch and pretend it would all be fixed when Pitch magically showed up some day.

Jack would hope, though. Because how could he give up when he loved Pitch so much? The whole idea made Jack fear his own future, so he just… swam. And let Jamie guide them. He needed to be in his own head for a little while.

“Spawn of a…” Jamie trailed off in a faraway, disbelieving tone, and Jack opened his eyes because that was either good or very, very bad. “Is that him?”

In an instant, Jack was scanning the seas around them. Fuck, but all he saw was nets. “Where?”

“There!” Jamie pointed, but he also started swimming. Jack hurried to keep up, and then—

He saw what Jamie saw. A small, long, black and gray thing tangled in an abandoned net caught in the current’s flow. It was anchored from below, but the line was too long and Jack’s concern was too short to give it more than the glance it took to verify Pitch wasn’t about to be swept away in the current again, this time without any hope of swimming his way out of it.

The figure wasn’t struggling against the nets at all and Jack swam faster. His huge fins, twisted and folded in the spun plastic, gave him away before anything else. It was Pitch. It was absolutely Pitch.

Jack screamed his name over and over as he swam nearer, waiting, hoping, praying for Pitch to look up at the sound. He looked so pathetic and sad, immobilized and swaying helplessly in the wake of the current. He could have been dead already, except that he finally stirred from all the noise Jack was making and looked up. When their eyes met, when Jack could see for himself that Pitch’s gaze was clear and focused and that he was just stuck, the ridiculous man, relief flooded through every part of Jack’s being so suddenly and so completely that he almost lost the rhythm of his stroke and stumbled in the water.

Pitch was alive, and, other than his current circumstances, he was fine.

Jack realized Pitch was neither trapped under nor between anything heavy and so his pick-shovel would do nothing but fill his hands. He tossed it behind him for Jamie to catch and continued on unhindered.

“Jack!” Pitch shouted to him, and the sound made Jack’s heart sing. The heavy pull of the current sent it sinking again, but Jack was on a mission and skillfully rode the tide right into his chest, where he clung with all of the accumulated desperation of the last several hours and steadfastly refused to let go.

Jack pulled the fancy knife from his hip and prayed the inset mother of pearl handle survived what he was about to do to it. He pulled the netting as far from Pitch’s skin as he could, then pressed the knife into the synthetic fibers and began to saw away at it with everything he was worth.

Pitch tried to help. His wiggling wasn’t very effective, but it did get him a little further from Jack’s blade, and that was something. “How did you find me?”

Jack smiled at him. It wasn’t really anything to smile about, but Jack was just so glad that he could smile at Pitch, so he did. “Followed your tracks. Made some good guesses. Jamie helped a lot.”

Pitch looked behind Jack at where Jamie must have been hovering with the two pick-shovels out of the current’s reach. “I thought he couldn’t stand me.”

“He can’t stand me when I talk about you. That’s different.”

“Oh right,” Pitch said absently. It was obvious he wasn’t really taking anything in. His eyes were glued to Jack’s hands slowly tearing away at the nets now, and he was biting anxiously at his lip.

“Don’t worry,” Jack soothed. His voice was tense, but Jack couldn’t help that. His hands couldn’t stop moving until Pitch was free, and the netting was stronger than it looked. “I’ll get you out of this, Tigershark. I promise.”

Pitch met his eyes again, and there was so much heat there. So much love and trust that Jack nearly forgot what his hands were doing. “I know.”

It felt like forever before the first rope gave way, then two forevers for the second. Jack’s arms were burning and Pitch’s tail wasn’t even free, yet. The pace was excruciating, and after hours of constant swimming, Jack was tired.

The thought of Pitch’s safety was all he needed to keep on.

Pitch, on his part, tried to help with every limb he could wiggle out of the way. The net had tangled around him at least three times, but Jack hoped once the tail was free, the rest would come easy. When the bottom fin finally broke through, Jack wondered if he imagined the way Pitch’s soft tail brushed against him, as if it were on purpose.

But then, as soon as Pitch’s first arm escaped the plastic cage, he pressed his fingers to Jack’s cheek, and Jack knew he hadn’t imagined anything at all.

Before the last snarl was cut, Jack made sure both of them had a firm grip on the net. It would absolutely suck to go through all of that just to lose Pitch to the current again. And then they had another problem.

Jack took hold of Pitch’s arm. “You trust me, right?” he asked.

Pitch looked very much like he did not trust Jack right now. “What do you mean? What are you doing?”

Jack sighed. Why did he have to ask questions? “I’m going to get you out of the current so we don’t start all of this over again. Do you trust me?”

Pitch’s eyes widened. He looked thoroughly unconvinced. “What about you?”

“I’m a stronger swimmer,” Jack said. Then he tightened his grip on Pitch’s arm and swung him around in the water. Pitch flailed hilariously, but let him do it and that was all Jack asked for. When he let go, the force and the pull of the current tore Jack away and spun him viscously, but the net kept him anchored just as it had done to Pitch before.

When he finally got another glimpse of Pitch, it was to see Jamie holding him back by the shoulders. The idiot had honestly turned around and tried to get back to him.

Thank the universe for Jamie.

Jack held the knife between his teeth and gripped the net with both hands. All he had to do was make it far enough out that the pull wasn’t stronger than him. That… should be easy, right?

Right.

Jack took a hard breath through his nose, then went for it. He swung on the net as far as physics would allow, then pushed hard with his tail and both arms to escape the drag of water trying to keep him in. He could feel the water he pushed against with his hands, but he could also feel the water slipping backwards over his shoulders and sides as the current slowly won.

Jack pushed harder, swam faster, felt himself beginning to thrash as he realized it wasn’t working. The current was going to take him and throw him out who knows where else? He had some food, but Jamie and Pitch didn’t and what if the current never let him go at all?

Then a hand grabbed his and Jack looked up to see Jamie, strained and panicked, reaching out for him into the turbulent water. Jack’s expression probably looked much the same, but some of the anxiety smoothed out when the two of them began to move, this time steadily away from the current that wanted to claim him.

Jack didn’t understand, but he didn’t care. He clung to Jamie’s wrists and didn’t look away until finally the pull began to loosen its grip and Jack could breathe again. Then he noticed the massive black tail swishing back and forth in the water behind Jamie. Pitch?

Jack blinked, startled, and accepted it without fuss when Jamie suddenly shot backward and Jack was flung bodily into a circle of four arms and two tails that seemed ready to crush him before they would let go.

It was Pitch. Pitch had pulled them out. Pitch had been tugging on Jamie’s tail and Jack was really going to have to treat Jamie to something nice because that probably hurt like hell but first, Jack was going to have to kiss Pitch senseless for saving him. Nevermind that Jack had saved Pitch first. Pitch could kiss Jack senseless, too. It was only fair.

Jack wormed one arm around each of them and held on. They were safe. They were finally safe, all three of them, and now they just had to get home. Jack’s eyes were burning and when he looked up, Jamie and Pitch’s were red-rimmed, too.

Yeah, okay. That was scary. Jack could admit that whole thing had been scary. He would do it again in a heartbeat, but… He was glad he wouldn’t have to.

Jamie finally loosened his hold and gave Jack some water. Jack, who immediately turned and smothered himself in Pitch’s chest because it had been more than twenty-four hours since Jack last laid eyes on him and the idiot had nearly gotten himself killed by accidentally getting swept up in a current that he had no business being that close to in the first place.

Pitch pressed his face into Jack’s hair and wrapped around him the way Jack liked, the way that made Jack feel safe. It was stupid, because obviously Pitch was a danger magnet, but the man had also proven himself to be strong and capable not two minutes ago, so Jack would take it.

���I love you so much,” Jack whispered into the water. “Don’t ever do that again.”

“I won’t, Jewelfish.” Pitch said against the shell of Jack’s ear. “Never again.”

Jack pressed his face up against Pitch’s throat. “I’m serious, Pitch. I was so worried. I thought I lost you. I thought I was going to have to—”

Pitch pressed two fingers against Jack’s lips to quiet him, then leaned just far enough away to meet his eyes. “I swear, Jack. I will be more careful. I will never do this again.”

Jack stared deep into Pitch’s gaze, judging for himself whether Pitch really meant that or not. Pitch held Jack’s stare, steady and calm. Calm, after all of that. How? But he was. Calm and sure, and Jack slowly started to believe him.

With a nip at Pitch’s fingers, Jack gave in. “Alright, Cuddlefish. Take me home.”

Pitch smiled and swam pointedly away from the current that started all of this. “Anything you wish, Nibblefish. Thank you for coming to find me.”

Suddenly Jamie was on Jack’s other side again, and his solid warmth was very much appreciated. “There was no way we wouldn’t. Seriously,” Jamie said, wide eyes fixed on Pitch. “I don’t think you really know. There was no other option. Jack was coming to find you. I only came to make sure Jack didn’t die in the process and, as it turns out, good thing I did!”

Pitch’s smile, adoring when it was aimed at Jack, shifted into a sort of baffled amusement. Jamie had that effect on people. “Thank you. Jack is very lucky to have a friend like you.”

“Yeah,” Jack agreed. He wrapped his arm around Jamie and squeezed. “I know.”

Jamie grinned and hugged him back. “Good thing. Because I am not looking forward to the hours it’s going to take to get back and watching you two be disgustingly sweet and all over each other the whole way.”

Jack bit his lip to keep from laughing.

“I’m going to see you home safe,” Jamie continued, “but as soon as we are, I am clearing out, because I know exactly what you two are going to get up to and I want no part in that.”

Pitch’s face was equal parts embarrassed and scandalized, and Jack couldn’t keep the laughter inside anymore.

Jack was incredibly lucky. He had an adoring fiancé who would give him anything, an amazing best friend who would do, for him, anything, and a future that didn’t scare him anymore.

Also, Jamie was one hundred percent right.

Jack couldn’t wait to get home.

[terreisa]

Love Down the Line: Chapter 6

The last thing Indie musician Emma Swan needs is a gigantic wrench thrown in the workings of her biggest tour to date weeks before its launch.  When her backing guitarist that caused the problem says she has the perfect solution Emma is skeptical but left with little choice but to accept.  Unfortunately she isn't really prepared for said solution to be former Rock Star and leading man of Emma's teenage fantasies, Killian Jones.  With no other options and a month of performing across the country ahead of her Emma just hopes she doesn't come to regret letting Killian onto her stage and into her life.

Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, AO3

~*CS*~

Chicago, May 15th

Emma could feel a headache starting to bloom at the base of her skull.  She hadn’t gotten enough sleep, which wasn’t unusual, and she’d only had the chance to drink one cup of coffee since the day started, which was.  To make matters worse the sound check had been going wrong since the beginning and she had been forced to play the first verse of Bite of Iron four times, never making it past the first line of the chorus before having to start again.

“Alright, Emma, let’s see if that fixed it.  Whenever you’re ready.”

She nodded, biting her cheek against the tirade she wanted to let loose.  Barely a minute in the sound tech interrupted her again.  Flexing her hands into fists over the keys of the piano she counted to ten, then did it backwards before speaking into her mike.

“Can we take a break?”

“Su-”

“They’ve almost got it, Emma.  Right gentleman?” Regina broke in from the side of the stage where she was standing with the others since they weren’t needed for the song.  She had barely looked up from her phone and was still typing away as she continued, “You do want it to sound right, don’t you?  Let them do their job and then you can move past this one.”

At Regina’s words something in Emma snapped.  She stood abruptly from her piano, a loud buzzing in her ears.  Someone, she wasn’t entirely sure who, started saying something to her but she barely heard what they were saying as she practically ran offstage.  All she wanted was to get a lungful of fresh air, anything to ease the clawing at her throat.

In her rush to find an exit that led outside she ended up getting turned around and completely confused as to where she was.  The clawing feeling had traveled down to her chest, compressing her lungs so it was getting hard for her to breathe.  Before she could lose her shit completely a warm hand wrapped around her wrist and tugged gently.

“Follow me, love.”

She let Killian lead her through the labyrinth like corridors, barely paying attention to the turns they were taking or the doors they were going through.  However, when they entered a stairwell she paused.

“Killian…”

He looked back at her, giving her an encouraging smile, “Trust me?”

It wasn’t even a question to her.  Somehow, in the month since they’d been thrown together he had become someone she trusted completely.  She nodded and his smile widened as he squeezed her hand and began their ascent.  Though she found she was distracted from their progress again at the sight of her hand in his, not to mention the way his jeans hugged his ass as he climbed.

All too quickly Killian opened a door that had sunshine streaming into the stairwell and the heat of the day rolling over them.  He had taken her to the roof of the auditorium.  It was dotted with air conditioning units and not much else but she noticed that it did have a pretty good view of the city that was sprawled out all around them.

“It’s not much but it’ll give you some time to yourself-” he held out a slim silver can that she hadn’t noticed before, “I hadn’t seen your ubiquitous starbucks cup today so I thought you might want this.  Come back down when you’re ready and don’t worry about Regina, I’ll handle it.”

Taking the can of coffee, the one that was on her rider for the days exactly like the one she’d been having, a brand that could only be found in the corner of Maine that Storybrooke inhabited and that Killian had clearly gone to the green room to get before finding her, she was suddenly overwhelmed in a different way than before.  No one, not even Mary Margaret and David had known exactly what she needed when things got overwhelming and provided it without question or needing an explanation.  He made to leave but she gripped his hand in hers, holding him in place.

“Stay?” She asked softly, “Please?”

His eyes searched hers before he seemed to find what he was looking for.  With a nod he walked them over to a small strip of shade provided by the stairwell housing and sat with his back against it.  Once he settled he patted the spot next to him, wordlessly inviting her to join him.

The surface of the roof was warm when she sat but not uncomfortably so.  There was a slight breeze, not enough to dry the sweat that was gathering at her temples but enough to break the heat of the day.  Emma could hear the traffic moving along and through the city, a not so unpleasant hum that matched the air conditioning units kicking on and off to make a bit of a song.  She felt herself smile at the thought of putting lyrics to the sounds and then snorted in amusement at the fact that it was easier to make up a song on the fly than to play one she’d intentionally written.

“Something funny, Swan?” Killian asked, his own voice laced with humor.

“Only if you’re me,” she said wryly, snapping open the coffee and drinking near half of it one one go.  She tipped her head back and stared up at the cloudless blue sky, “Did you know?”

“Hmm?  Know what?”

She kept her gaze trained upwards but could imagine his eyebrow ticked up in slight confusion and intrigue, “When you said to play Bite of Iron, did you know that I’d never played it live before?”

“Not once?” She shook her head and he gave a low hum, “No, love, I didn’t.  It is a beautiful song, it’s a shame the sound guys did it such an injustice.  No wonder you stormed off.”

For a moment she almost didn’t want to correct him.  There really was no reason to explain or even justify her behavior.  She was sure that he’d seen worse from others in the business, she’d seen it herself.  The thing was she wanted to tell him the truth of what had upset her.  It was like the words were pressing against her lips, ready to spill out into her lap.  Just as she made up her mind to go through with it, absolutely certain that he wouldn’t judge or condemn her, he began to speak.

“Everyone assumed Milah was the diva of the group and she could be, if the occasion called for it, as could I.  But Liam-” he chuckled and then sighed, “Liam never gave into theatrics but if things weren’t going exactly how he wanted it he could, and would, let his displeasure be known.  He once refused to board our tour bus one evening because the driver had decided to take a nap and got to the venue nearly an hour late.  We had to charter a plane to make it to our next stop on the tour because Liam’s obstinance caused an even bigger delay to our departure.  The label made him pay for the cost of the plane from his own pocket.  Served the git right.”

Emma sat completely still, entranced.  He hadn’t talked to her about Liam since Cincinnati and she’d noticed that he’d been writing in his notebooks more since then.  She had a feeling that maybe, just maybe, he was feeling the same push that she was to share the painful parts of his past.  To trust her with them.

“You miss him,” she said softly but surely.  It was easy to hear the longing in his voice.

“Aye, I miss them both.  It’ll be twelve years and I still expect Liam to come walking into my apartment calling me ‘little brother’ or I’ll wake and reach for Milah across the empty bed-” his hand clenched on his thigh before he sighed again, “There’s a constant ache in my chest for missing them.”

She didn’t know what to say, what he would want to hear.  There had been precious few people in her life that she felt that strongly about and she had never lost any of them.  Just thought of either of the Nolans or Ruby being taken from her as Killian’s brother and fiance had been had her breath backing up in her throat.

“This probably wasn’t what you had in mind when you escaped, was it?” he asked, nudging her shoulder with his. “Apologies.”

“Don’t,” she said quickly, grabbing onto the hand that was still clenched on his thigh. “You don’t need to apologize for talking about them.  I get the feeling you don’t do it very often.”

“That I don’t-” he unclenched his hand and she let hers settle in his open palm, her heart threatening to jump out of her chest as she did. “It was too hard at first, I’d lash out or dive deeper into the bottle, most times both, and then people just stopped asking.  Decent people that is, the gossip rags and paps are the soulless exception.

“Milah hated them from the start.  They followed her around more than the rest of us seeing as she was the lead singer and a beautiful woman to boot.  Once they got it in their minds we’d been romantically involved for longer than we had been they were relentless.”

Emma tried to hide her surprise at learning that nugget of information but with her hand in his he appeared to have felt it.  He grinned, his eyebrow raising in an unasked question.

“It’s just, uh, I thought that you guys were, um, high school sweethearts,” she meant to make it sound like a statement yet it came out like a question.

He laughed, a small but genuine thing, his free hand scratching at the back of his neck, “Our publicist spun it like that and we went along with it for interviews and such.  More romantic he liked to say.  Truth was even though we’d gone to the same secondary school she was in Liam and Robin’s year and I’d hardly spoken to her then.  It was only when they started playing together after they’d left that I got to know her.  She seemed so sophisticated and worldly to my scrawny teenage ass, even though she was only three years older than me and had never left our tiny village either.

“It wasn’t until during our first real tour that we gave into the attraction that’d been growing between us.  From then on it was like throwing a match at a puddle of petrol.  It was us against the crazy world we’d been thrust into and we thrived on it,” he said with a frown. “We partied a little too hard, fought a little too meanly, and were dependent on each other in ways I know now weren’t healthy.  I loved her deeply, I always will, and I know she loved me but sometimes I wonder if we would have made it had she lived.”

“I think…” Emma paused, wanting to get the words right and not completely destroy whatever it was that was growing between them at the same time, “You kinda seem like a guy that wouldn’t let something like that slip through your fingers.  The way you were talking about her just now?  I think you would have fought like hell to stay together.”

“I’d like to think so,” he said, ducking his head. “Liam would say the same thing when I voiced my doubts.  He’d been dead set against it at first and wasn’t too pleased with how we behaved most days but he always said he understood how much we loved each other.  Of course he also understood that we wrote some of our best songs once we got together.”

“Some of your best songs,” she said thoughtfully, drawn back to the reason she’d fled the stage, “You were right about Bite of Iron, you know.  When you suggested it I was trying to figure out why the set didn’t seem right.  The Boston crowd was so surprised when I started playing it.”

“It’s an exceptional song, Swan.”

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “Do you know what it’s about?  I mean, you’ve obviously listened to it a lot since you knew it would work out.”

The tips of his ears tinged pink, “I’ve listened to it a time or two.  It’s a love song is it not?  Or rather, a love lost song?”

She snorted, only half in amusement, “Something like that.  Everyone knows that I’m an orphan and all that jazz, I’ve never hid it and Regina says that it’s my ‘thing’.  You know, the thing that makes me unique.”

“Bollocks, you make yourself unique,” Killian said heatedly, squeezing her hand in emphasis, “Your songwriting, your playing, everything about you sets you apart from the chaff.”

It was her turn to blush, “I mean, obviously, but, you know, it’s Regina.”

“Aye, she’s not one prone to mincing her words,” he scoffed.

“No, but she has my back and knows how to bury things.  Like how I went to juvie and had a baby.”

Her attempt at nonchalance fell flat as Killian stiffened beside her.  She steeled herself, ready for him to pull away from her both physically and emotionally.  While she absolutely believed he wouldn’t think less of her or go to the press with the information she had no idea what his reaction could be.

“Did you- was it-” he huffed out a breath through his nose, clearly frustrated.  A muscle in his jaw was ticking but when he looked at her his gaze was soft, “I’m sorry that happened to you, love.”

The sincerity in his voice caught her off guard.  Coming from anyone else she would have brushed it off as a platitude or pitying.  Killian sounded like he was the one who had caused it all and was apologizing for it.  She felt a glowing warmth expanding inside her, giving her the courage to continue.

“I didn’t do it, in case you were wondering.  I was young, stupid, and in love, not the greatest combination-” she deadpanned, shrugging one shoulder.  Taking a deep breath she forged on, “I had just turned seventeen and was on my own since I’d had the bright idea of running away from the Nolan’s.  I don’t even remember why now, probably some fucking teenage angst or something.  Doesn’t matter.  So I met this guy, Neal.  And he was older and knew how to survive on the streets and he got me.  Just… understood all the shit I’d gone through with the whole orphan thing and didn’t judge me for it.  We had this whole outlaw life, living in the back of this car I’m pretty sure was stolen, sneaking into motel rooms when people checked out for a few hours, and stealing but only food.  Well, I thought it was only the food.

“A few months after we got together he comes up to me in a panic, telling me how the cops are after him because of some watches he’d stolen and left at the bus depot and how he’s gotta go to Canada and I couldn’t go with him-” she gave Killian a rueful smile, “You probably know how well that went over.”

“Like a lead balloon I’m guessing,” he murmured with a somewhat pained chuckle.

“Yeah,” she sighed, “So I come up with this brilliant plan, yeah?  Why don’t I go get the watches?  Prove to him that he needed me and obviously the cops wouldn’t be looking for a teenage girl, right?  He just lit up when I told him, said I was a genius and gave me the key to the locker he’d stashed the watches in.  It worked, I got those damn watches.

“When I got back to where Neal was hiding out he gave me some song and dance about fencing the watches to get the money we need to go to Canada.  How I couldn’t go with him because the guy he had to deal with doesn’t like strangers or whatever.  Before he leaves, though, he gives me one of the watches, a giant clunky thing covered in diamonds that was worth a hell of a lot more than anything I had ever owned in my life.  He tells me-” she scoffs and scowls at the memory, “tells me he doesn’t want me to be late for when we were supposed to meet back up.  I swallowed every word, spent the whole day dreaming up all sorts of plans of what our life was going to be like in Canada while I waited for it to be the time we’d agreed on.  I wasn’t late but neither were the cops who’d been tipped off that I’d be there holding stolen property.  The fucking, lying, sneaky asshole had left a couple of the watches in my backpack along with the one he’d put on my wrist.  Got a year in juvie for being his goddamn scapegoat.”

“But you were innocent,” Killian spluttered, moving to stand until she grabbed his arm and forced him to stay next to her.

“Which is part of the reason why I went to juvie instead of prison,” she said calmly, even though she was amazed he was indignant on her behalf. “They couldn’t prove I had anything to do with actually stealing the watches, just that I had some of them on me.  The other part was being closer to seventeen than eighteen.  Another month older and I think they would have tried me as an adult.”

“They caught him at least?  This Neal?” Killian spat out the name, his lips curling back in disdain.

“I don’t know and I don’t really care anymore,” she answered honestly.

He nodded as if it made sense before lowering his eyes and asking hesitantly, “And the… erm… the babe?”

She sighed and felt as if she had dredged it up from deep in her soul.  Her hand was still on Killian’s arm and he placed his other on hers, squeezing her fingers gently.  Somehow she knew if she said she didn’t want to talk about it he’d understand and wouldn’t push and that more than anything gave her the courage to keep going.

“I found out I was pregnant about a month into my sentence and the first person to congratulate me was a guard passing by my cell.  I think that more than anything made me realize how much I’d fucked up.  The next time I had phone privileges I called Mary Margaret and David.  Back then I told myself that it was because they were the only number I had memorized but I think deep down I knew they wouldn’t judge me or just brush me off as a runaway they had no obligation to help anymore.  Mary Margaret took the next flight out to Phoenix and David came a few days later.  It was the first time I’d ever felt really, truly loved.  They could only stay for a week but we became a family in that week.”

She could feel her throat tightening but kept talking, “The Nolans were there for me the whole time, as much as they could be with their jobs and the group home.  They even said they would help me raise the baby, if that’s what I wanted.  I couldn’t do it though, I wasn’t ready to be a mom.”

“Swan-”

“Did you know that they handcuff you to the bed when you’re in custody of the state and in labor?” She plowed on, determined to finish, “Like I’d make a run for it while a human being came tearing out of me.  The cuffs were steel but it doesn’t sound as poetic.  I didn’t even hold him.  I knew I wouldn’t let him go if I did.”

She had managed to keep the tears that had gathered in her eyes from falling until that moment.  It was something she’d only admitted once before, to Mary Margaret on her son’s first birthday.  Before she could think to wipe the tears away Killian was doing so with a warm and gentle touch.

“You’re incredibly brave, Emma, did you know that?” He asked, his voice full of awe.

“I wasn’t ready to be a mom,” she repeated shakily, “I knew that giving him up was the best thing for the both of us.”

“Would you want to find him?  Now?”

She shook her head before his questions were finished, “I already did, or a private investigator did.  He’s happy with his adopted family, he’s got a brother and friends and a good life.  He doesn’t need me coming in and making a mess of it.”

“You wouldn’t make a mess of it,” Killian said vehemently.

“Yeah, I would,” she said patiently.  She gave him a sad smile, “Let’s for a second forget the fact that we’re sitting on the roof of a venue that in six hours will have forty-five hundred people waiting to hear me play.  Just the fact that his birth mom would come out of nowhere and decide to insert herself into his life is bad enough.  With all this shit on top of it?  No, he’s happy and that’s all I need to know.  If someday he decides to find me then I’ll be ready to be a part of his life, but only when he’s ready not before.

“Anyway-” she plowed on, “playing Bite of Iron brings all that shit up again.  It’s why I’ve never put it in the lineup before.”

“And then my ignorant ass goes and pushes you to do just that,” Killian spat out bitterly.

He pulled his arm out from under hers but she immediately grabbed his hand, unwilling to part with the comfort his touch had given her.

“It was more like a gentle nudge,” she said teasingly, glad to see his mouth tick up for a moment in amusement.  She sobered, “I wouldn’t have put it in if I didn’t want to play it.  It’s been eleven years and I can’t heal or whatever if I keep it all bottled up inside.  It actually hasn’t been that bad, playing it every night, today was just… a little too much with the constant interruptions and then having to half play it over and over.”

“Well, your diva fit was well justified, I’d say.”

She surprised herself with a burst of laughter.  Killian was clearly trying to lighten the mood, she could still see tension in the way he held his shoulders and the slight furrow of his brow, but he was making the effort for her.  The glowing warmth from earlier expanded and morphed into butterflies.  Leaning into him she pressed a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Thank you, for helping me escape.”

Killian looked dumbfounded, his mouth dropped open in surprise.  She grinned at his stupor.  Rising to her feet she felt like she could play Bite of Iron twenty times in a row if he was the one listening, watching her with that same soft look on his face.  Just as she was about to say as much or something even more ridiculously sappy the door leading to the roof opened.

“Oh, thank God, you are up here!” Tink breathed out as soon as she caught sight of them, sounding immensely relieved. “Regina’s either going to murder you or make you pay out of pocket for the time she says you’ve wasted.  Why haven’t you answered your phone?”

“I-” Emma patted her back pocket and winced when she hit nothing but her ass, “Shit, I think I left it on the piano.”

“Do not tell Regina that,” Tink said horrified. “Tell her it died or spontaneously combusted or whatever, anything that will keep her from blowing another gasket.  She’s already muttering about breach of contract.”

“It’s only a breach of contract if I don’t play tonight, not the goddamn soundcheck from hell,” she rolled her eyes.

Killian stood and Emma winced again as Tink’s eyes widened as she noticed him.  Tink turned her bewildered gaze to her and Emma knew she would be facing a full inquisition at some point.  Not wanting to give away anything more than she already had she avoided both Tink and Killian’s gazes as she marched to the door.

“Come on, let’s get Regina’s tantrum and the rest of soundcheck out of the way and then go find some deep dish pizza.  My treat.”

As she stepped back into the air conditioned stairwell she breathed a sigh of relief that Tink had interrupted them when she did.  She wasn’t entirely sure she was ready for whatever leap she’d just taken when it came to Killian.  She also wasn’t entirely sure she shouldn’t have leaped further.

[ruewrites]

We’re Blooming Together Chapter 12: Epilogue

AO3

Ships: Solomon/Asmo (and a litte Diavolo/Lucifer)

Word Count: 4633

Warnings: None

Chapter 1-Chapter 2-Chapter 3-Chapter 4-Chapter 5-Chapter 6-Chapter 7-Chapter 8-Chapter 9-Chapter 10-Chapter 11-Chapter 12

Asmo stood on the balcony listening to the soft crash of the ocean in the distance. He leaned against the railing, wine in hand and ring glinting in the moonlight. Everything was so perfect,so peaceful, so serene. Not even the birds dared to break the silence. He’d need to send out thank you notes. Everyone had put so much thought into their gifts for them, and the notes from his brothers had brought tears to his eyes. But he could focus on that later once he got home. For now he would relish in this moment. 

Arms curled around his middle and lips slowly made their way from the base of his neck up to his jaw line. “Are you going to stay on the balcony all night?”

Asmo chuckled, feeling Solomon’s grip on him tighten slightly. “It’s nice out, and I’m not going to get a view like this back home.” A shudder ran through him as Solomon’s lips started traveling back to his neck. Ever so slightly, he tugged down the collar of Asmo’s robe to reveal a dark purple spot on the junction of his neck and shoulder.  Asmo could still feel every wonderful movement that led to his hickey. How his fingers had twitched above his head, Solomon’s hot breath against his skin, the fluid motion of his hips. It made Asmo shudder in the best of ways. 

“It looks better with you out here,” he murmured against soft skin, “You make any place a miraculous view.” Asmo had to put his wine down as Solomon went straight back up to his lips. Asmo’s arms tangled around his neck as Solomon dipped him slightly. 

How did he get here?

Solomon pulled back ever so slightly. He was still so close. Asmo could practically feel his smirk against him. “My beautiful husband,” he murmured softly. It made Asmo blush, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

“Who I promise to love, adore, and cherish for all of my life,” he murmured in between kisses that travelled from his lips  down to his shoulder, and back up again, “Who’s laugh brings joy to my very core, who takes my breath away whenever he walks into the room. I promise to fuel his passions, be the flint to the sparkle in his eyes, and to wipe away tears whenever they fall.”

Solomon’s fingers brushed against his cheek gently, as tears rolled from his eyes. “If you keep reciting your wonderful vows to me, I will start crying again,” he smiled, bringing Solomon down to him once more. They had always been a touchy couple. One of his brothers threatened to sit in between them at the reception. Asmo couldn’t remember which one, he’d been too busy mooning over his husband. He did know that Lucifer had stopped the two of them from disappearing from their own wedding multiple times. Only for Diavolo to ask him if it was such a crime for the newlyweds to want to be alone together, he himself should have been familiar with the feeling. After all, they had years to make up for. Years in which they hadn’t been together. Years in which they had made excuses. Years in which they were too scared to say a thing. 

They had to make up for it, there was no other option.

Asmo felt his feet leave the ground and he let out a yelp. Solomon had quite literally  swept him off of his feet and was carrying him through the double doors of the balcony and into their room. “Nooooo, my wiiiine,” Asmo whined, reaching out for his glass that was still on the balcony. 

“I’ll grab it for you love, but I do believe that I’m a little more deserving of your attention.”

“Well it’s a good night for wine.”

“It’s also a good night to spoil a husband.”

Solomon carefully let go of Asmo’s legs, letting him sit on the bed before going back out to get the forgotten glass. It really was a nice honeymoon suite. When they’d first arrived there were towels folded into the shape of swans on the bed surrounded by rose petals, balloons had been tied to their bedpost, and their tub had been surrounded by candles. To top it all off, they had a lovely view of the perfect clean beach below. 

“I’m so happy I bought that ring,” Solomon murmured, handing Asmo the glass. Asmo let him take his free hand to kiss as he sipped at his drink. He had genuinely thought that Solomon was going to ask if they could take a break when he proposed. After all, with the transition into his post grad program and struggling to find internships at the time, Asmo wouldn’t have blamed him. Things were stressful. He’d had a knot in his stomach for weeks before the proposal thinking that Solomon was going to cut things off with him. He was ready to go out to buy a ring himself. He’d never been so tense in his life when Solomon asked him to go out that night. He’d prepared himself to beg and plead. To promise Solomon that they could make it work even if he didn’t believe it deep down. Because he was scared that if they went on a break, they’d never get back together. 

When Solomon had proposed instead of doing any of the other terrifying things Asmo had prepared himself for, he’d burst into tears. Honestly, everyone had probably been looking at them, Asmo hadn’t been quiet, and it hadn’t been graceful sobbing. Meanwhile Solomon had been frozen, completely terrified that he’d done something wrong.

As if Solomon ever could do wrong.

As if Asmo would ever say no. 

His social media had been  filled with pictures of his engagement ring along with photos of him and Solomon together. Asmo’s eyes had been a little wet throughout most of the pictures, but he didn’t mind. His engagement ring was also something he wanted to show off every chance he got.  His hands were a little more animated than usual, his left always on top of his right when folded.  Why shouldn’t he show it off? After all, Solomon had clearly spent quite a bit of money on it, and it was gorgeous.  Asmo had made sure to take care of it so it shined brighter than the stars in the sky. He’d made sure Solomon knew how much he loved it, and how much he loved him. 

Sure they had to keep the fiance title for a while, but oh was their wedding worth the wait. This was all worth the wait. Asmo wouldn’t have had it any other way. 

“I’m surprised you did.”

“I had the money, that’s never been an issue.”

“I know, it’s just-”

“Hey,” Solomon stopped him in his tracks, and tilted his chin upwards, “I love you okay? I wouldn’t have proposed if I didn’t, I wouldn’t have said what I did if I didn’t mean it. You’re special Asmodeus. So special, that I was afraid you wouldn’t say yes. I don’t know what I would have done if you didn’t say yes.”

“I would be brainless to say anything but yes,” Asmo countered.

Solomon hummed and pressed their foreheads together, “And I love that about you, that my husband is a very smart man, he’s also an incredibly talented man.”

Asmo yanked his husband forward back into their kiss and they fell over. He couldn’t get enough of Solomon, their lips only parted enough to whisper soft ‘I love you’s before coming right back together. Solomon tried to pull back a little further, meeting resistance from Asmo. 

“Darling, I need to breathe.” The breathlessness in his voice made Asmo shudder. 

“Haven’t you had enough practice baby? I am breathtaking after all.”

Solomon snorted as Asmo drew him back in. It was his fault that such cheesy things left Asmo’s lips. The entire time they’d been dating had been filled with Solomon’s terrible pick up lines along with awful nicknames.

Was there anything more perfect? Asmo didn’t think there was any better lifetime he could have been more wonderful. He didn’t think he could live any other life time without Solomon. Life would be so much emptier without him.

Asmo felt Solomon brush his fingers not-so-innocently between his shoulder blades. It was just enough pressure to cause Asmo to make the sweetest, shortest, little moan. Oh the things Solomon had discovered while they were dating. The accidental touch here or there, a response, and then repeat. Solomon had made this particular discovery during a make out session earlier on in their relationship. He could still see the way Asmo had squirmed and gasped on his lap as he touched him over and over and over again. He was adorable. He was beautiful. For Asmo, having a partner that cared about him and wanted to make him feel wonderful in any situation was a pleasant change. He was more than happy with the fact that Solomon was the partner that became his spouse. Asmo knew he was with someone that would care for him and pay attention.

 Then there was the gentle tug on the ribbon of his robe. It was slight, but just enough for Asmo to feel it. “Again?”  he murmured playfully, tapping Solomon’s nose, “What will we tell people if they learn that we went on this extravagant trip for our honeymoon only to stay in bed the entire time?”

“We’ll tell them that I was giving my husband the love and attention he deserved,” Solomon chuckled. One of the silk ends of the ribbon rolled through his fingers slowly, mimicking the waves of the ocean outside their room. “And can you really blame me? I can’t get the way you looked out of my mind… The entire reception… When  we got here, you looked so beautiful, and even now,” he sighed, brushing their lips together, “My husband. My wonderfully perfect husband.” 

Asmo loved the way those words sounded against Solomon’s lips, He honestly couldn’t tell if he was getting drunk off of the wine or Solomon himself. 

“Oh Solomon, you dog,” he squealed, chastising Solomon with a playful swat to his husband’s back as he latched onto his neck, hands scrunching up his robe at his hips. Not that he minded. No. He loved it when Solomon touched him, especially like this. He loved the feeling of being wanted, of being craved. A small noise left Asmo as he tilted his head a bit to give Solomon better access to his neck. Every movement was just right, just how Asmo liked it.  “Haven’t you marked me up enough already? I thought we wanted to go down to the beach tomorrow.”

Maybe Solomon was the one drunk on him.

“Just one more-”

“That’s what you said with the last one.”

“I want everyone to know that someone loves you more than anything. Plus, you can be covered, we don’t  have to go swimming. The ocean is overrated anyways.”

Asmo snorted.

The only reason the two of them had come here for their honeymoon was because they had agreed it was rather romantic, but Solomon’s one condition was that he would not step foot in the ocean. He couldn’t help but shake his head, nails working up to Solomon’s head to massage and gently scratch at his scalp. He swore he felt Solomon shudder and then go limp for a moment. 

“I almost forgot you got your nails done.” Solomon’s voice was hot against his neck, and he could feel his lashed fluttering against his soft (and now marked) skin. 

“Specially done for our special day.”

“They feel nice.”

“Oh you’re adorable.”

“My husband spoils me too much.”

Asmo stopped and leaned back a bit. Solomon mirrored his movements and propped himself up on his elbows. He cocked his head to the side, as if to ask what was running through his head.

“I swear, if you call me ‘my husband’ one more time, I’m going to burst.” Everytime Asmo thought he was in full bloom, another petal or two started to unfurl.

“Oh? Is that not who you are Mr. Asmodeus?”  Asmo swore his heart stopped, as the words slipped past Solomon’s lips. He almost didn’t process the way Solomon crawled on top of him, eyes locked, and forcing Asmo into the plush pillows beneath them. “Is my Asmodeus, my dear, darling, light of my life, little strawberry, baby, sweetheart Asmodeus, not my adored husband?”

Oh this was so not fair. It wasn’t fair how quickly Asmo’s mouth dried out or how his brain immediately decided to stop working at that moment. And it certainly wasn’t fair that his cheeks were almost positively perfectly pink. Especially not when his husband was being a dork on purpose. He turned his face into the pillow closest to him and screamed. “How are you so hot? It’s not fair. You don’t even try! Especially when you’re purposefully trying to say the most unsexy things in the world!”

“But pooki, you react to it oh so-” Solomon got a pillow right to the face, followed quickly by a flurry of pillow smacks. Solomon laughed as he tried to shield himself from his husband’s fluffy fury.

“Why. Are. You. Like. This?” he pouted before dropping the pillow and sitting on the edge of their bed. He turned his attention away from Solomon and to a little bowl of candies next to the bed. He unwrapped on and popped it in his mouth. After a few moments before he felt the bed shift. Solomon’s head was resting on his shoulder and his arms were tightly wrapped around his waist. Without a word, Asmo unwrapped another candy and pushed it past Solomon’s lips. “No more awful pet names,” he murmured, kissing Solomon’s cheek.

Of course much sappier little nicknames had been exchanged at their reception. They had been playing with each other’s rings, swapping sickeningly sweet words quietly, sometimes they would laugh. Even when they split up to go greet their guests their eyes wanted the tables until they found each other. If they didn’t meet, they would stand there and admire the other until they looked up and noticed. Eventually they  met once more at one of the guest tables and their hands immediately met once more. Belphie made a gagging noise at one point, signalling that the two of them were getting a little too mushy.

“You’re not on your honeymoon yet,” he’d said, making a few of his other brothers laugh. Even now, if Solomon was overdoing it, Asmo had to admit some part of him deep down still loved it and Solomon knew it. 

He felt Solomon’s grip tighten. “But my darling, how can I possibly stop?” he smiled, “Especially when you’re oh so wonderful my dear. You make my heart soar.”  

Asmo shoved another candy into Solomon’s mouth before untangling himself from Solomon and looking for his suitcase under the bed. “Whatever am I going to do with you? After this I’m going to be moving in with my sappy husband who loves to spoil me with morning kisses before he has to start his day. And every morning  I fall for him all over again,” he hummed. It had to be in here somewhere. He knew he brought it. He’d made sure he’d packed everything before he left. Just what did he want to show first was the question.

“Oh?” Asmo felt a hand caress underneath his jaw and the side of his face. Solomon had his signature smirk on his face, the one that made Asmo melt. He just had such a powerful energy around him. It was addictive and flooded all of Asmo’s senses. “Are you saying you aren’t just as sappy and loving my Asmodeus?”

“Now I never said that,” Asmo smiled, learning into his touch, “It’s just that you’re the one who got a tattoo pretty soon after we started dating.” He reached up to touch the area where he knew he’d had Solomon put his tattoo. He’d had more than enough time to study Solomon’s tattoos before deciding where he wanted  his. It looked nice on his sternum, Asmo had made sure it would. He was Solomon’s center and always close to his heart, so the position was fitting. Countless nights and a lot of wasted paper finally resulted in something that Asmo had been happy with. It didn’t include his name, but it was unique and pretty and perfectly Asmo. 

“True, but you’re the one who has designs based off how in love you are with me,” Solomon teased, flopping on his stomach to get closer to Asmo. 

“I’m not the only one in love,” he giggled, letting Solomon peck his lips once, twice, again. He could feel Solomon’s hand leave his face and trace whatever part of his body he could reach. He knew every inch of Asmo, and the way his fingers traced out long memorized curves and edges was divine. Solomon really did know him inside and out, he knew every last little detail, he was attentive, and Asmo adored him.

However, he had something he wanted to show Solomon. He made a small noise, before pulling away from Solomon’s lips so he could go through his suitcase once more. It didn’t take long before he found exactly what he’d been looking for. 

“But, I do have something I’d like to show you.” 

Asmo opened up one of his older sketch pads and held the image out to Solomon. It had taken him forever to finally finish this project, but he couldn’t have been happier with it. There were two outfits on the page, and Asmo had made sure that they both complemented and contrasted each other. One was dark and sharp, filled with blues and blacks. The other was softer and bright, filled with yellows and pinks. Both were modeled after flowers in one way or another, and both had petals decorating the outside outlines in silver and gold respectively. They balanced each other out and brought out the beauty in each other.

“I started it before we started dating. I might make an alteration or two, I’m thinking about calling it Blooming Together, or something along those lines,” he said, “I thought you might like it.” He watched as Solomon’s fingers ghosted over the outlines of the art. 

“And why might I like it?”

Oh he wanted him to say it. Not that Asmo minded, he loved telling Solomon how much he loved him. It came like a second nature to him. He’d started saying ‘I love you’ to Solomon before they were even together.

“Well, like you said before, I often base some of my designs off of how in love I am with you,” Asmo said. Solomon was one of his favorite muses. He’d never known one person could make him feel so much before, yet here he was. “I would hope you’d like anything you were an inspiration for.” Asmo put the pile of things in his hand on the nightstand before crawling back up to join Solomon, and he was quickly reminded how he hadn’t been able to avoid Solomon’s lips since they’d said their vows. A slew of laughter escaped him as Solomon went to work once more, lips meeting every inch of soft skin they could possibly find, and then more as quick hands manipulated the silky robe. The fabric moved easily out of his way, allowing him to reach every part of Asmo he wanted. Asmo’s nails gently raked against ink covered skin, drawing another content hum from Solomon. 

 How did he get here?

“You know I love anything you do,” Solomon murmured, pressing another kiss on Asmo’s body. “How could I not when you put so much passion and effort into everything you do? I’ve always loved that about you, you know, your passion.” 

Asmo nodded, eyes fluttering shut as Solomon continued his work. Each touch set him ablaze, sending a warmth through Asmo that he had never felt with anyone else. Everyone around them had given them their best wishes for a happy marriage, but Asmo didn’t think they needed wishes. He and Solomon knew where they stood with each other, and Asmo couldn’t imagine their future as anything but happy. Sure, he had been insecure about his place in Solomon’s life, but Solomon proved those doubts wrong time and time again. Solomon loved everything about him, everything he thought no one would ever care about. There was so much to Asmo, and Solomon made sure he paid attention to every little detail. Asmo wrapped his legs around Solomon’s waist before falling backwards and reaching for his things on the nightstand. 

“You know I still have evidence of how much my husband loves me. I wasn’t the only one pining before we got together,” Asmo said, gently bopping Solomon’s forehead with worn pink envelopes.  Asmo had taken care of them and always kept them safe. He watched Solomon’s eyes widen as the recognition crossed his face. That little recognition made Asmo smile, and hand the letters over to Solomon. “I’ve always wanted to hear you read them to me you know, sometimes I imagined your voice when I read them over.”

Solomon took the letters, “You kept them.”

“Of course I did.”

“And you brought them with you.”

“Like I said, I’d always wanted to hear you read them. Why not on our honeymoon, it would be so romantic,” Asmo sighed, leaning back again. He was a sucker for romance, he always had been, and Solomon knew this. 

With a chuckle, Solomon started moving their position, being mindful of the letters in his hands. He grinned and motioned for Asmo to come closer. Instead of gently scooting over, Asmo jumped into Solomon’s arms, the playful atmosphere still surrounding them. After a flurry of kisses and laughter, Asmo finally settled in the crook of Solomon’s arm with his head resting on his chest. The steady drumming of his heartbeat lulling him into comfort.

Solomon cleared in his throat for show, making Asmo roll his eyes, before he read off the first words of the letter, “How could any person ever glow so brightly?”  His voice rumbled through his chest, as he read the letters. Every now and again he’d pause to kiss Asmo’s forehead or interject with another thought he had. Asmo’s eyes sparkled all while listening to the words.

How did he get here?

Well, Asmo knew how. The feelings in his chest were undeniable. He just couldn’t believe that he had something like this, something so wonderful. It seemed like a dream. Like a beautiful fantasy. Solomon was the best thing Asmo ever could have asked for. 

He got here because Solomon was home. Solomon had promised Asmo that they’d be together forever, and he made good on that promise. Every morning he’d be able to wake up and see his husband, come home to his husband, get lunch with his husband, text his husband when he couldn’t see him, and sleep next to his husband. Solomon was his husband now. Solomon loved Asmo and wanted to be with him for the rest of their lives.

Solomon wanted to be with Asmo, and Asmo wanted to be with Solomon. 

They were meant to be together, and Asmo knew there was nowhere else he’d rather be. 

By the time Solomon finished the last letter, Asmo’s eyes were lowered and a wide soft smile crossed his face. Solomon was his entire world. The mere thought of him would make Asmo’s honey colored eyes would sparkle with pure adoration. Solomon met his gaze. The only word he could have used to describe Solomon in that moment was spellbound. Slowly, Asmo found his hand, and started to play with the ring on Solomon’s finger, refusing to break eye contact with his husband. Solomon brought him closer, starting to mirror Asmo’s expression.

“I meant every word,” Solomon said softly, “And I still mean all of that. Sometimes I still wonder if my words truly did you justice.” Solomon’s other hand caressed his figure. Solomon’s touches were soothing despite his cold hands. Sometimes Asmo would still jump, especially if Solomon shoved his hands under his shirt on purpose, but that didn’t mean he loved his little touches any less.

“Even if you didn’t, your love does more than make up for it. You give me everything I could ever ask for and more than I ever could have imagined. The fact that I have you is enough for me.”

Asmo nuzzled underneath his chin and held him closer. He wasn’t always sure how he got here, or what he did to deserve this, but he did know that Solomon was his. He felt Solomon kiss the top of his head and bury his nose in his soft hair. This was perfect. This was the life he’d always wanted. This was the future he’d always dreamed of. As Solomon held him close, Asmo couldn’t help but let go. He wasn’t so much falling as he was floating. There was a vast and endless love surrounding him, one that was warm and comforting and that Solomon constantly surrounded him with. He lifted up his head ever so slightly to press light butterfly kisses against Solomon’s neck and jaw. He wanted to express everything he was feeling and words simply lacked the complexity of what he wanted to say. Solomon lifted his head to look down at Asmo, hand moving up to caress his cheek before his fingers slipped underneath his chin to tilt his head up. Slowly he leaned in, letting his lips move gently against Asmo’s. They molded together perfectly, everything about this was perfect. They  were moving gently against each other, there was intent behind the movements, but nothing about it was either vigorous nor hasty. Asmo had never felt so vulnerable with another person before, never enough to bear everything he was to them. But Solomon took every piece or him, every soft petal, and held it close to his heart. This was what Asmo deserved, and nothing less. 

Even when the movement of their lips halted, they didn’t halt, foreheads gently  coming together. No matter how close they were, they always craved more.  

“I love you Solomon.” 

“I love you too Asmodeus.”

The words exchanged between them were soft, almost at a whisper. It was as if they were exchanging the most precious of secrets between each other and trying to keep the world from listening. It was beautiful, absolute bliss had never felt so perfect before. The world outside  could disappear. Nothing else mattered except for the man in front of him.  No matter what happened everything would be okay as long as he had Solomon by his side.

The love of his life.

His Solomon.

His husband. 

Things would be okay with Solomon. Things would be more than okay with Solomon. He’d be safe, and adored, and loved with Solomon. Solomon would protect his heart and help him explore every wonder of life that there was to see.This thing that they had together was special, and Asmo knew that they would protect it, nourish it, and help it grow and bloom together. 

The moon glowed softly outside, reflecting against the waves which gently caressed the shore outside. The entire world was quiet. Not a single soul dared to disturb the two lovers, who were tucked away from the rest of the world with only moonlight as their witness. For now they could focus on each other and revel in the start of the newest chapter of their life together. A chapter filled with little wonders and an ever flowering love.

[ravens-words]

Malex Week 2020

Day 1: Meet Ugly

Of Roses and Bad Dates

Maria answered on the second ring. "How did the date go?!"

"I'm going to kill you."

Warnings: My poor attempt at humor and my even poorer attempt at a good story title.

Happy reading!

........................................

Alex never thought he would ever agree to be set up on a blind date, but Maria Deluca was a force to be reckoned with when she was hell bent on something and she had decided Michael Guerin was the perfect guy for him. 

Alex doubted such a person existed, but he went along with it, mainly because she'd sent him a picture of the man and he was attractive as hell. That was not to say he was thrilled about it; he'd contemplated not showing up to the date at least three times today, but had ultimately forced himself to put on his fanciest shirt and his newest pair of jeans, actually used some of the hair products Maria had dumped on him and drove to the restaurant they were supposed to meet up at. 

When he did show up, Micheal was twenty minutes late, and though Alex was annoyed by it, he let it go. He spotted him by the door and felt his lips begin to stretch in a smile when he saw the other man's head swivel from side to side, clearly in search of him as he waited for the waiter to come back and show him to the table. The smile fell off his face however as he saw him sway in place Michael rested his head on a closed fist and closed his eyes.

Alex took a deep, calming breath and convinced himself that there was no way his best friend would ever set him up with a guy who would show up drunk to a date.

Then Michael took a step forward and stumbled towards their table and- yep, he was drunk.

And Alex was going to kill Maria.

He took another breath and plastered on the biggest fake smile he could muster and stood up. Michael managed a small smile and then they stood there and stared at each other like a couple of awkward teenagers until Alex hesitantly sat down and Michael did the same. 

"Hey," Michael broke the silence, voice friendly, if a little quiet. Alex relaxed a little and returned the small smile. 

Maybe this could work.

The conversation started out tentative, and a little stilted, but Alex didn't mind. It was almost a relief when the waitress came and took their order. Once that was done,  Michael, for the first time in the thirty minutes they'd spent together, asked him a question. "Maria told me you're a computer genius? What do you do?"

Alex grinned. "I wouldn't say a genius, and I work freelance-" he trailed off. Now, Alex was a patient person. And he was masterful at ignoring things to keep the peace. He'd ignored Michael zoning out and trailing off mid sentence multiple times. He'd ignored the thinly veiled insult he'd blurted out when Alex had mentioned his service. Hell, he'd even managed  ignore the fact that Michael reeked of alcohol. 

But he drew the line at this. 

Jaw clenched, he watched as, honest to god, Michael fell asleep while he was mid-sentence. He stared, wondering if knocking his fist out from under his chin would be too rude. Just as the idea was starting to get more appealing, their server came with their food. 

"Here you go," she said, flashing him a sympathetic smile. 

He was going to kill Maria. 

A minute or two later, Michael's hand slipped from under his head and he jerked awake, looking around wildly. It would have been funny if Alex didn't want to throttle him. 

His brown eyes widened. "I-"

Alex glared at him as he sipped from the water glass in front of him, and he enjoyed the way the other man squirmed under his gaze. "Good nap?"

Michael laughed nervously, hand going to his shirt collar and tugging uncomfortably. "Hey, I'm-"

A cake was suddenly put in the center of the table and the lights in the restaurant dimmed as slow jazz music filled the chilly silence that descended upon them. Alex's left eye twitched as they stared at each other. "Did you do this?" He asked icily. 

Michael stared at him, mouth open and oh, he was staring to get pissed off, too. "Of course not, why would I-" 

Flower petals were thrown over their heads and Michael's mouth clicked shut. 

Alex raised an eyebrow, covered in flower petals and more than a little angry. "Is this a fucking joke?" He hissed.

Michael scoffed and stood up, only to have the waitress knock into him from behind. They both went down, hard, and Alex blinked down at the two bodies sprawled out at his feet. 

The waitress, Meagan, scrambled up, horrified and began to apologize to Michael, hands fluttering over his back. 

"Ow," Michael moaned.

Alex got up and left.

"How did the date go?!"

"I'm going to kill you."

"Yikes," his bestfriend muttered. "What'd he do?" She sounded disappointed.  "Lay it on me."

"He showed up drunk. He said maybe ten words to me, and five of which were to imply that I'm a brainless, violent jarhead because, oh yeah, he hates the military, Maria." 

He could just imagine her wincing. He carried on. "He fell asleep two seconds after he asked me about my job. Then for some stupid reason he had a cake brought to us and- I kid you not- rose petals were thrown over our heads."

He heard a snort and growled at her. "He tried to deny that it was him, but why the fuck would that happen if he didn't ask for it?"

She let out a strangled sound and he rolled his eyes. "Fine, you can laugh."

And she did. Loudly. For thirty-two seconds. "You done?"

"I'm sorry, honey. I really am," she offered sincerely. "For what it's worth, that's not like Guerin at all. Maybe if you give him-"

"Oh, hell no," he cut her off vehemently. "If I never see the guy again, it would be too soon."

.....

"Alex!"

Alex turned around and grinned as he watched his brother cross the street. He was pulled into a bear hug the second he was within touching distance and he found himself sinking into the embrace. He hadn't seen his brother much in the year or so since he'd left the air force, too busy with his job and the traveling he'd been doing. 

"Thanks for coming, buddy."

Alex pulled away, and squeezed his brother's neck. "Like I'd miss your engagement party?" 

Gregory put an arm around his shoulders and led him down the street. Two minutes later, they were entering the Crashdown.

"I wanted you to meet Isobel before the party," his brother explained when Alex asked why they were in the diner. "One of her brothers just moved here, so he's with her. I hope that's okay?"

"Of course it is! You've only been trying to get us in a room together since-" he froze when he spotted Isobel, who he'd seen in pictures his brother either sent him or posted on Instagram, and who exactly was sitting beside her. He turned around, giving them his back and closed his eyes. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"What?" Gregory muttered, confused. 

"You know what? On second thought, I think I'm gonna-" 

"Greg!" 

"Damnit," Alex cursed softly, turning around. 

"Alex-"

"It's fine, Greg."

"Wait-" his brother called out, but he ignored him and walked ahead, head held high. The way he was marching towards the table, you'd think he was walking into battle, not lunch with his brother's fiance and- well, the less was said about Michael the better. 

Gregory caught up to him and Alex allowed two seconds of eye contact between him and Michael, just enough to enjoy the comicial widening of his eyes, before he turned his attention back to his brother and his fiance. Greg leaned down and placed a peck on her cheek. The grin on her face lit up her whole face and he found himself smiling softly. 

"Alex," his brother started, smiling wide and giddy. "This is Isobel, my fiance. Honey, this is my brother, Alex."

"Hi, Isobel," Alex greeted, extending a hand. 

"It's great to finally put a face to the name," She took his hand in hers and smirked. "And what a face it is."

Alex barked out a surprised laugh and watched his brother shake his head, looking at her fondly.

"Alex, this is my brother-"

And there went the good, happy thoughts. "Michael," he finished for her, words icy. "Yeah, we've met."

Isobel's eyebrows shot up, and his brother mirrored her shock perfectly. They wanted clarification, but Alex wasn't sure this would end well for any of them if he got started about that date from hell.

Gregory and Isobel slowly slid in beside each other on one side of the table, eyes never leaving him, and he was left with no other choice but to sit beside Michael, who still hadn't said a word. Alex resisted the urge to look at him, and did his best to ignore him. 

"So, Alex, Greg tells me you're a freelance cybersecurity expert? How's that going for you?"

"I'd love to answer, but I might put Michael here right to sleep."

There was a chocked out cough beside him and Alex paid him no mind as he slowly sipped from the water placed in front of him. 

Gregory and Isobel shared a look of bewilderment. "I have so many questions," Isobel muttered, gaze swinging from him to Michael, who was still coughing a little. 

"Can I talk to you?" Michael whispered, closer than Alex expected. He shivered as the other man's breath tickled his neck and gripped his glass tightly. "No," he answered without sparing him a glance. 

And that was it. They spent the lunch either trading passive aggressive insults disguised as attempts at conversation or ignoring each other's existence and fuming in silence.

Today was going to be a long one, Alex could just tell. 

...

Michael Guerin, clean shaven, hair actually combed and in a suit was a sight to behold.

Alex truly hated how attractive the man was. 

They'd been ignoring each other for the better part of two hours, save for the one time Michael had approached and Alex had literally hid in the bathroom for ten minutes. Alex, three drinks in and pleasantly buzzed, was just now starting to relax, thinking that he might have escaped what could have been a disastrous confrontation with Michael. 

So, of course that was when Michael pounced. 

Alex, standing close to the exit of Maria's bar, sipping on his whiskey, was yanked outside by the arm. His surprise gave the other man the advantage for all of a few seconds, and by the time they were outside, Alex had regained his balance and slammed him against the brick wall, hands bunched in his suit jacket.

They were both breathing hard, and standing way too close than they should have been for two people who barely tolerated each other. 

Alex wasn't sure who made the first move, but seconds later, they were kissing. Hard, filthy and all teeth. Alex pulled away, breathing erratic, and stared at the man; his lips, red and swollen, were drawn in a smug smile and Alex felt his hackles rising at the sight.

He pulled him in again, one hand in his hair and the other making its way down his back. Michael's back arched at his touch, and then they were flush against each other. He moaned and Michael's hands tightened around Alex's waist, enough to leave bruises. Alex gasped into the kiss when Michael's tongue darted out and licked the seam of his lips. He deepened the kiss and when his hands found their way under the other man's suit jacket,  Michael made a sound of protest and pulled away. "If I ruin this suit, Isobel will kill me," he informed him. 

When Alex moved to pull away, he didn't let him, pulled him in closer instead. "Why don't we move this back to my place?" He mumbled against his lips. 

"Yes."

...

*One Week Later*

"So, let me get this straight," Maria began, looking between the two of them. "You," she pointed at Michael, "had been operating on no sleep and extra shots of espresso for about a week and still thought it would be a good idea to show up to a blind date. And you," she pointed at Alex, "thought he was drunk, ignored that he was late and the fact that he insulted you, then watched him fall asleep while you were talking but the deal breaker was a cake and romantic music?"

They both shared a look, grinning like fools, and shrugged at her in perfect synchronization. She rolled her eyes and swatted at them both with the towel she was wiping down the bar with. "You idiots deserve each other." She rested her elbows on the bar and turned to Michael, an amused smile on her lips. "But seriously, why did you think that was a good idea?" Maria asked Michael.

He shook his head and shot Alex a glare. "It wasn't me," he protested. "I can't believe you actually thought I would do something like that on a first date," he chided Alex.

Alex raised an eyebrow. "So, it's okay for you to insult me and to fall asleep while I'm talking to you, but that wasn't?"

He rolled his eyes. "You're never gonna let it go, are you?"

"Nope. Not ever."

Maria wandered off with a shake of her head and Alex turned his attention to Michael. "You know," he began, sitting on the edge of his barstool to be as close as possible to the other man. "You still haven't told me why you still showed up when you were so exhausted. Why not just cancel the date?"

Michael scoffed. "Are you kidding me? From what Maria told me about you,  I could barely believe you said yes in the first place, I wasn't gonna miss that chance."

Alex smiled, soft and sweet and leaned close. "Yeah?"

Michael met him halfway. The kiss was chaste, but it still sent his heart into a frenzy. "Oh, yeah."

When he pulled away, he didn't move far. He mirrored Alex's position and scooted until he was on the edge of his stool, too, until his knee was wedged in between Alex's. "Speaking of dates, will you go on one with me tomorrow? I promise not to fall asleep this time."

Alex laughed. "Yes."

....

Their second first date was markedly better than the first one. 

That was until Michael, with a shit-eating grin on his face, signaled the waiters and a minute later, there was a cake in front of him and they were both covered in rose petals.

This time, Alex only managed to glare at him halfheartedly for a second, before he was laughing right along with him.

That wasn't the only difference about the date, though; this time, Alex didn't walk out on him and, Instead, when the waiters dispersed and he was left with a Michael who was poorly suppressing a laugh, Alex reached across the table and yanked him closer by the shirt. "You're lucky I like you," he muttered right before he kissed the smile right off of Michael's lips.

[burnedbyshoto]

Here, kitty, kitty.

Kinktober Day 9 ~ kink: pet play

pairing: shinsou hitoshi x fem!reader

warnings: smut, cursing

word count: 2,900

a/n: I apologize for the super late upload, it was a hard day in terms of focusing...... ya but still!!!! enjoy your sleepy purple haired lover you freaks

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

When your fiance had called you kitten the very first time, you never expected things to transpire to the way they are now. Kitten was an innocuous nickname, a pet name for you. You just assumed that it was Shinsou’s version of love, babe, or princess. 

The first time he muttered that nickname against your lips, you snorted. You pulled away from his puffy pink lips with the widest grin on your face. “Kitten? What am I? A furry?” You asked as you threw your arms around his shoulders, Shinsou’s tired eyes were annoyed. “Don’t tell me you have a furry kink, or else I don’t think this relationship is going to work, my love.”

He had simply rolled his eyes at you, slamming your mouth against his as he mumbled something about ‘kink-shaming’ him. After that night, you had forgotten about it for the most part. He had, after all, fallen back on the safe names such as baby, and sweetheart. The nickname did not resurface for a solid month until the two of you were drunk out of your minds, bodies stumbling into your apartment. Hands desperate against the fabrics of each other's clothes, on edge to take them off. 

Then with enough confidence to make you smile he groaned out the name kitten. You pulled away, this time not with amusement, but with confusion.

“Why did you call me a kitten?” You ask, your eyes wide in confusion. Your fingers still pulling through his thick purple hair as he presses kisses to your neck. You gasp as he grinds his aroused dick onto your flushed front. He laughs against your skin, his crotch was merciless. 

“Because, kitten,” Shinsou begins. His hand tangling in the locks of your hair as he pulls harshly on them. “You’re mine, and as your owner, I get to call you whatever the fuck I want to.”

Chills flew through your veins as you shudder against him, and his low chuckle makes you moan. Why were you so turned on with just his words? “But am I really yours?” You gasp as your back presses unto the cold wall. 

“Do you want to test that out?”

“N-No…”

“I want you to say, no daddy.”

“No, daddy.”

“Wonderful, kitten.” He growls and drags you away. The rest of the night your body was drunk under his touch, but your mind felt sober as he drilled into you. Calling you kitten as he choked you, your strangled screams of calling him, daddy. It was far too much for you to handle, and you passed out as soon as he drew you in for a cuddle. 

That was almost two years ago, and now, you could safely say that you had adopted his kink quite well. Of course, since that night the two of you indulged more into said kink, and things have definitely gotten kinkier. Toys and costumes had been involved on numerous occasions. Roleplay has even been conducted at some point. It worked well for the two of you, and there was no regret in it coming out the way it did. 

However, today had been a hard day for Shinsou. You knew that as soon as he slipped out of bed this morning. Originally the two of you had this day off of work and were planning on spending the day out and about. 

You shifted as he got out of bed, your eyes heavy with exhaustion as you tried to watch him get ready. He walked back over eventually and placed a kiss to your lips. “I’ll be back late.” He groaned and you succeed in pulling him back into bed, your tired body holding his. Shinsou’s face pressed against your chest as you hold him. 

“Don’t go.” You moan and he chuckles. 

“I wish, kitten.”

“Tell them you needed to save me. I’ll pretend to be injured.”

A proud smile lines your face as Shinsou chuckles, “Kitten if you’re the one in trouble, I don’t think I’d be strong enough to beat them.”

You scoff as Shinsou finally pulls away from your grasp, a smile on his face as he presses a kiss to your forehead. “Alright tiger, go get ‘em.” You whisper as he pinches your cheeks. You sigh from your bed as he stands up and leaves. The front door echoing throughout the house as he left.

The rest of your day had been boring. You were left to your own devices at home. Hell, you even walked to his agency to see if he was available for lunch with you, but the front desk lady profusely apologized as she shook her head. He was in important meetings about his rebranding. Shinsou was not available to talk.

You left back home sighing, a few hours after getting home, your phone buzzed.

My love: sorry, kitten. I heard you came for lunch, maybe next time when these guys stop being idiots.

You chuckled lightly as you stared at your figure in the mirror of your bedroom. Shinsou Hitoshi deserved to be spoiled tonight, and you were going to do everything in your power to make him feel extremely special. Walking over to your closet, you pulled out your simple black box, a smile curling over your features as you opened it.

It took no time for you to change. What you knew to be Shinsou’s favorite black piece secured to your body. It was black lace lingerie, the thong had more fabric in its intricate straps on your hips than the actual thong part. You attached the garter belt to the piece, then rolling thigh high stockings, a dark purple bow attached to the backside of it. You swapped your practical bra for the pieces set. It was also a black lace bra. It supported your breasts, pushing them up slightly to enhance the swell of it. Your hands adjusting the way they sat when you had it fastened.

It was a great set.

Grabbing two final pieces from the box, you walked over to your vanity mirror. Sitting down you pulled out your makeup. You knew you had around an hour until Shinsou would be back, most likely on time since he did not wish to be at work today. You looked over your makeup and began applying to your face. Making sure to not overdo it, you were sure that the way nights typically went, you didn’t want all of it being rubbed off on the pillowcases.

You gradually smoothed over the tinted makeup, applying the colors on your face to make everything pop in the way that brought out your features the best way. You smiled, appreciating how your face glowed in your reflection. With a confident nod, you grabbed the final pieces. 

A shiver trailed down your spine as the cold purple leather collar wrapped around your neck. It was always a bit too tight around your throat, something Shinsou enjoyed very much. He claimed it made face fucking you that much more intense. Clearing your throat, you nodded. The bell on the collar tingling slightly as you moved to the side, grabbing the final piece to your outfit.

You place the cat ears headband into place. Your eyes concentrated on your head as you adjusted it so that it sat nicely in place. You hoped it wouldn’t fall off as it did last time. 

Taking your favorite lipstick from its holder, you glide the wax against your lips. Your bottom lip dropping as you did so. You smack your lips together, a habit that refuses to die, as you place the lipstick down. A smile on your face as you brush your hair over your shoulder. Your fingers tangle in your hair as you stare at your reflection, a small pout on your face as you entertain yourself.

It’s working as your grin widens, but you shriek when arms wrap around you. A warm back pressing into your backside.

“You’re looking hot as hell.” The husky voice of Shinsou interrupted your panic. “You’re not supposed to be here yet!” You exclaim as you suddenly feel very, very embarrassed. As if you had been caught stealing his favorite food.

“Mm, I was able to sneak away early,” Shinsou stated, a proud smirk on his face as he presses his cheek against your neck. His hands gripping your waist immediately. “But why this get up kitten?” He asks, his lips ghosting down the side of your neck.

You lean into his touch, arching against his torso as you moan. “I… um…” You can’t collect your thoughts as he nibbles along your neck. His hips grinding slowly against yours, and your head almost falls backward from this sensation. “I wanted, oh my god, I want to surprise you since you had such a--oh my--long day at work…”

Shinsou’s lips come crashing against yours, and you fully succumb to him. He pulls you up off the chair, and you spin into his arms. You let his hands trail down your back to grasp your ass, and he lifts you up off the floor. Your legs immediately wrapping around him.

“Don’t you know, kitten?” Shinsou asks with a devious smile plastered on his face. “I am always surprised when it comes to you.”

You gasp as his lips are back on yours, and you can’t resist the way your body melts into his own. A whimper in your throat as his cold hands touch your warm body. You groan when he places you on the floor, the bell around your neck tingling with your dismay. “On your hands and knees, kitten. Daddy’s had a long day, and only you can help me.”

Sinking to your hands and feet, Shinsou takes a step back, smiling at your form. His hand rubs the back of his neck as he chuckles, “You are the best, you know that, kitten?”

A smile overcomes your features as you chuckle softly, “I know, my love.”

His eyebrow quirks and he nods his head, “I’ll forgive you just this once because you’re amazing.” Shinsou states and your cheeks flush with your realization of your mistake. 

You nod your head in grace as he reaches out, grabbing your already restricting collar, and you choke as you crawl towards him. Ass up, face looking at him.

“Such a sweet kitten,” Shinsou sighs and you moan as his hand comes down to spank you softly on your ass. You shake softly as your nose brushes against his clothed leg, your eyes still trying to stay on his. “Can you help me out, I’ve had such a terrible day?”

Your head nods eagerly, Shinsou didn’t like you to be verbal unless requested. Your eyes trained on him, and he pushed you so that you sat on your knees. Your legs rubbing together in excitement as Shinsou removed his belt. You breathe hitching as his pants came down alongside his underwear. His impressive cock bouncing at his semi-hard state. “I’ve only been home for so long, kitten, but I’m already hard for you.” You bite down on your lip, resisting the need to speak as Shinsou strokes his length, hot puff of air escaping his mouth as he stepped closer.

“Here, kitty, kitty,” Shinsou grins wickedly as you stretch forward, and his dick enters your mouth.

He groans as your hot mouth envelopes his cock, and you give him kitten licks as you stay still. Waiting for him to have his way with you.

You moan as he steps closer, his hands gripping your hair as his length falls further down your throat. The tip of his cock sliding down your throat. You gag softly against his length as Shinsou slowly starts to rock his hips back and forward into your eager mouth. You widen your mouth as his hips pick up in speed, your cheeks hollowing out to the best of your ability as he thrust away. He curses slightly as he roughens in his pace, and you choke as the collar is now restricting your breathing. 

“Relax, kitten.” Shinsou grunts as his thrusts are rhythmic, and you’re desperate in keeping up, saliva slowly pooling from your mouth as his breathing staggers. His pace quickening.

You moan around his cock, turned on by the fact he was being so harsh with you so quickly and he curses pulling away, “Stand up.” He commands. Panting, still attempting to gather your air, you stumble to your feet, and Shinsou yanks off your panties and garter belt. The belt clatters against the floor, and when the thong hit the floor, he pulls you off your feet. You muffle a scream by shoving your face into his neck as Shinsou has you on his hips, your aroused cunt sinking onto his cock. “I don’t want to hear you moan, or come without being told so.” Shinsou grunts as his hips rotate underneath you, and you slam your face further into his heated skin. The feeling too much, and your throat aching to make noise. “Confirm that you understand, kitten.” He barks, hand slamming against your bare ass.

You nod your head as you bounce on his cock, your eyes clenching as you muffle your moan. “Such a good kitten,” Shinsou sighs as he begins thrusting into you, and you bite down on your lip hard as your back is thrown on a wall. 

Shinsou’s hips are merciless as the pound into you, his typically slow and steady pace long forgotten as you bounce on his hips. Your hands slamming against the wall and clutching his hair as if it would give you some sort of relief. But the pressure of not making any noise it quickly getting to you, your core aching as his hips continue slamming away. It’s too premature, too soon in his action of slamming into you, his fingers only now paying attention to your clit. You choke back a noise as his fingers pinch your clit, a throaty laugh escaping his lips as your head bangs against the wall. 

“You’re doing so well, kitten.” He praises, “Taking my cock so well without even making a noise.”

You nod your head pathetically. You arousal seeming to seep out of you as Shinsou refuses to slow down. Your heaving chest nothing but something for Shinsou to bite onto as you can’t hold back anymore. You shriek out his name and come hard around him. Your walls nicely clenching around his as he stills within you.

Shinsou’s face conflicts with wanting to tease you and to punish you, but as it hardens, you know what he chose. “Well, you disobeyed me, kitten.” Shinsou states, and you groan, covering your face.

A throaty groan leaves your lips as he moves your right leg to the meet your left. All while in you, he moves over to the bed, sitting down with you on his lap. “Now you know what your punishment is, right?” 

Your head nods weakly.

“Good, good.” Shinsou sighs as his hands push your hair to the side. “You don’t get my dick in your pretty pussy anymore.” Your mouth presses into a fine line as you look down to where his dick is clearly in you. “Unless, of course, you can make me cum before your vibrator makes you cum.”

You hiss as he pulls you off his length, your body missing the fullness of having him within you.

You watch with hooded eyes as he grabs the vibrator, bringing it back as he undoes his shirt. “Bra off, kitten.” You follow his command, and sink on you knees, already knowing the position you were needing to take. Shinsou climbs onto the bed and slips the vibrator underneath your aching cunt. You shiver at the cold material, but Shinsou direct’s your attention back onto his hard dick as the vibrator turns on. 

Shinsou had it set to the highest setting and your body trembles on top of a hit as you lean forward. “Open your pretty mouth, kitten.” Shinsou grunts and you gasp as his head presses through your mouth. 

It’s completely overwhelming as his hips snap into your mouth, and the way the vibrator is merciless against your cunt. 

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as all you can do is let Shinsou have his way with you. Your gags are hardly audible as he is relentless in your mouth. Your legs begin to shake as your stomach's pressure continues to heighten. The head of his cock rams into the back of your throat and you choke, stimulating back to life as electricity seems to shoot down your body. Saliva once again escaping your mouth as moans, and screams are silenced by his moving hips.

You shake, unable to hold it in any longer, the sounds of the bell on your throat louder than anything right now.

Shinsou cums in your mouth, and you on the vibrator. You struggle to swallow his heavy load, choking sounds emitting from your mouth as he pulls away. His slowly softening dick falling down. You, also, fall of the vibrator, your legs shaking as Shinsou draws you near. His deep chuckles gaining your attention as you roll your eyes, cheeks flushed. 

“Thank you. y/n.” Shinsou whispers pressing a kiss to your lips as your hand searches out to turn off the vibrator. The kiss is sweet and you relish against his lips as he pulls you up onto his lap. “We did come at the same time though.”

“That we did.”

“Round two?”

“Only if you wear the collar and ears?”

“Ha, deal.”

[sage-thrasher]

Extra: “Sanitize” and a Scandalized Outsider (Impropriety)

Almost 2k words this time! This was the extra that won the Discord vote: “An outside POV of Yui's clinic, from the perspective of a merchant who is constantly scandalized by all the impropriety going on in Chiyuku and surprised at what the village considers normal.” It’s aptly titled Impropriety, and it’s a little after the events of Chapter Twelve. Enjoy!

---

Usaku Kobayashi heaved a sigh of relief when he saw the town of Chiyuku in the distance. Despite his travels, Usaku had never been to this side of Fire Country, and it seemed shockingly undeveloped compared to the northeastern provinces.  

“Finally,” he groused. 

The ninja walking alongside their caravan tilted his head in agreement--though Usaku was beginning to suspect that it was amusement. They’d hired an escort from the Hyuuga clan, one of the few clans of ninja that actually had things like manners, but the downside was their eerie eyes and habits. The Hyuuga never even turned to look at them, but he seemed to know everything that went on around them--and had a need to comment on it. (That was exactly what they needed, a defective chatty Hyuuga.)

“Brother, aren’t you excited, though? This is all so novel!” Natsuki tried to lean out to see, but Usaku instinctively shielded her from prying eyes. His sister’s enthusiasm, unlike his, hadn’t flagged at all. Perhaps that was to be expected. This was her first time out of their estate. 

Well. ‘Estate.’ They barely had more than a title to their name, thanks to their father and grandfather. It was only Usaku’s dirty merchant dealings that gave them enough wealth to hire more than three servants--and arrange Natsuki’s match. 

That was the whole reason they were traveling. Lord Hirohota, his sister’s fiance, had requested to meet Natsuki ahead of the wedding party. Which was… odd, perhaps concerningly progressive, but he was, frankly, a much better match than Usaku had expected. It wasn’t like they could say no.

“We should rest at Chiyuku for a night,” said Hyuuga in his disconcertingly soft voice. 

“Yes, we all need a rest!” Natsuki agreed. “Oh, it would be so nice to sleep in a bed again, though it was just as interesting to sleep in the caravan!”

Usaku scowled, and Natsuki drew back, abashed. It was a little uncouth for a woman to speak about her sleeping habits, and she knew he didn’t like her talking to the ninja. Their kind might be a necessity, especially in these uncivilized parts, but a well-bred lady didn’t need to associate with them. 

Still, he had a point. “We will rest.” Not that Hyuuga looked like he needed it. 

“We can procure some medicine for your knee, also,” Hyuuga continued. “I recall you also mentioning some interest in the medicine trade of these parts. Lord Hirohota has some stake in it, I believe.”

Usaku didn’t scowl again, but he did press his lips together. He didn’t appreciate the reminder of his rather embarrassing injury--he’d tripped when stepping off the caravan and landed badly. 

The best ninja, his father had said, on the rare occasion he wasn’t drunk, are like furniture. You forget they’re there until you need them. This Hyuuga was the bad kind of furniture. Forgettable, until you tripped right over him when he opened his mouth and reminded you. Frequently.

… perhaps that hadn’t been the best analogy. 

Regardless, the ninja volunteered his opinion far more than he should. Which was at all. As Usaku mused over whether he could bargain for a refund, or at least a discount, his party quickly got situated at one of their inns. It was acceptable, though barely so. Everything was… quaint, and rural.

Somewhere along the line, Natsuki wheedled her way into accompanying Usaku to the healer. He would much prefer her staying in the room with her maid, but he supposed he could allow her this. (He would miss her. His sweet sister was being married off to a lord four weeks away, and soon letters would be their only mode of contact.)

“This is the healer’s place?” Usaku raised his eyebrows. 

“Indeed,” the ninja confirmed.

As they waited to be allowed entry, Usaku realized there was something different about the clinic’s construction, something about the wood… it looked almost seamless. Usaku didn’t know much about this healer (other than him being shockingly effective), but he must have been better than expected to afford something like this.

Usaku noted signs of more construction around them; foundations of new buildings were scattered like weeds. This town was growing, then. Perhaps it would be a wise investment. 

The door opened. A tanned peasant woman smiled at them, dressed in rather nice kosode. It was solid color, but the material was quality cotton, and her obi had delicate embroidery around the borders. The healer’s wife, perhaps? 

“Hello,” she said, inclining her head. “Do come in.” 

The woman bustled around, serving them tea and doing all the other expected domestic niceties. In the corner was a young man stitching up a deep gash on a sniffling child. Usaku obliquely stepped to the left, hiding them from Natsuki’s view. Was that the healer? He seemed rather young, barely out of an apprenticeship, especially to have a wife a half-dozen years older. Perhaps he was the apprentice, and the master healer was out and about. 

Usaku took the tea, and he sipped, resigned to have the dredges of soggy leaves that these places considered quality. He stopped at the first mouthful. 

“This is good!” he said out loud, immediately embarrassed at his lack of decorum. But it was. The tea was a sweet oolong, with a delicate green edge. It was at least on par with the tea he normally drank. 

“I’m glad,” said the woman, still smiling. “It’s Hyuuga-san’s favorite, if I recall correctly.” 

The ninja nodded. “I am honored that you remember.” 

Usaku was shocked to hear the deference in the killer’s voice, and he tried to cover it up with another sip. Natsuki tilted her head, hands delicately clasped around the cup. Honestly, the quality of the tea set was at least as good as the one they used at home. Was the woman trying to impress them with the finest they had? His sister had also noticed the ninja’s reaction, but she was also too curious for her own good. 

“You know Hyuuga-san?” she asked slyly. 

The ninja answered for her. “I have had the pleasure of meeting Yui-san.” 

Only one name, then? That wasn’t unusual for peasants, and Usaku doubted that Hyuuga would be improper enough to be familiar with another man’s wife. Before she could reply, the healer apprentice finished his task, and the kid ran forward, shyly hugged Yui’s leg, and scampered away.

Yui smiled and shook her head. 

She truly must be a cornerstone for her husband, Usaku thought. Though nothing beautiful--especially with that sun-darkened skin--Yui seemed like a competent manager of the household, enough to command affection from children and respect from ninja. Of course, the latter was likely more out of respect for her husband… Usaku really wanted to meet that man. Yui was asking after an old injury of the Hyuuga’s, so he turned to the apprentice rather than interrupt them.

“When will your master return, boy?” 

The young man paused in washing his hands. (Usaku had been introduced to him, but the name had slipped from his memory.) “My… master?” he said, confused, looking to Yui. 

“Yes,” he said, impatient. The boy continued to blink. Thankfully, there was a lull in the conversation, so Usaku returned his attention to Yui rather than waste anymore time. “Madam, when will your husband return? I wanted to ask him about a salve for sprains, and perhaps discuss business.” 

Yui looked just as surprised, and he revised his estimate of her utility. “I’m not married,” she said dumbly. 

Heavens. She wasn’t a kept woman, was she? No, her clothing didn’t suggest that, and he felt a little guilty for entertaining the thought. Yui was an unmarried relation, then, perhaps a sister, niece, or cousin to help manage the bachelor’s affairs--and procure a match with his contacts.

“The master healer,” he said more gently. Yui wasn’t that old. She still had a chance, though the match wouldn’t be so strong. “When will he return?” 

Yui raised a hand to cover her mouth, and Usaku worried at first that some tragedy had happened--had he passed away?--but he realized that she was actually hiding a smile. The apprentice openly laughed, and the Hyuuga was glaring at him, mortified. (It was frankly terrifying, seeing such a display of emotion from him, especially with those eerie blank eyes.)

Usaku looked at his sister, bewildered, and was glad to see she looked as confused as him.

After a moment, Yui lowered her hand. “I’m the healer,” she said, voice steady. 

“You’re what!?” He barely avoided dribbling his tea. 

“Oh!” said Natsuki, setting her tea down, eyes gleaming in a way that made Usaku nervous. “You’re the healer? You’re not an assistant?”

“This is my clinic,” she confirmed. “Eiji’s my apprentice.”

“I--But--” Usaku blinked at her. He’d been caught off guard; the place seemed so civilized, but it held tighter to rural sensibilities than expected. “Why? Are you not wealthy enough to be married?” 

She certainly seemed so; Usaku noted silk hangings that could only come from Lightning country. That should fetch a decent price for a peasant’s wedding. 

“I enjoy my work,” Yui said firmly. “I work not because I have to, but because I want to.” 

“I apologize for my client,” the Hyuuga said suddenly, stiffly. “I did not realize he had made such an assumption. He is from the northeastern part of Fire Country, and they are rather isolated.”

Was… was the ninja making excuses for him? Was he apologizing like Usaku was some rural country bumpkin!? The nerve of him!

Her apprentice snorted. “Sensei, perhaps I should serve the tea next time. Maybe these out-of-towners would stop assuming then.” Eiji gave him a derisive look, and Usaku puffed up further. “At least he wasn’t as bad as the man who thought you were my servant.”

Usaku wanted to give them both a piece of his mind, but Natsuki kept him from doing even that. 

“It must be quite interesting to work,” she said, beaming. It was an admirable attempt to smooth over his impropriety, but he didn’t quite like that she had more than polite curiosity in the way she phrased it. “How were you educated as a healer?”

Usaku fumed, keeping his mouth shut, as Yui shared fanciful ideas with his sister. She consorted with ninja, alone! And healed strange men with no thought to privacy! Uncouth, truly uncouth. No wonder she wasn’t married. Usaku would have stormed out, but the Hyuuga kept glancing at him, and he thought better of it. He didn’t bother to ask for salves or open talks for business, not with that woman, not after how he’d been treated. He kept to icy formality and took the soonest opportunity to leave. 

After as short of a stay they could manage, Usaku and the caravan set off again. 

“Heavens, I am glad to be out of that provincial town!” he announced. 

Natsuki didn’t respond. Instead, she looked back to the Chiyuku, an odd look in her eye.

“Hyuuga-san, how far is Chiyuku from Lord Hirohota’s estate?” she asked. 

The ninja smiled. “Two week’s trip by caravan, my lady. Lord Hirohota’s liege, Lord Fukuyama, strongly favors Chiyuku and Healer Yui. She saved the young heir’s life.”

Usaku’s stomach dropped. 

“Did she?” said Natsuki, sounding delighted. 

“Indeed. Lord Hirohota’s estate has begun to invest in Chiyuku’s construction; the lord sent his architect on Lord Fukuyama’s request. I think you may meet Healer Yui again.”

“Hyuuga,” said Usaku sharply. “We did not ask for your input.” 

The ninja tilted his head and fell silent. But when Natsuki looked out the window again, she was smiling.

[guigz1-coldwar]

'Hurt' : New chapter for "Redemption in a Spirit in a Cold War" is out !

"Hurt"

Chapter Summary : Nine days after the first operation within Park's team, Yirina had an memory that could help them.....

To read it on AO3, click here !

Words : +3300

--------------------------------------

May 5th. It's been nine days that followed after I got teamed up with Park and her friends and the first mission we all did together and to be frankly, these nine days were more better than my days back in that old CIA safehouse from 3 years ago and this year too. I was feeling welcomed by Garrett & Greta and they officially greeted me as an official member of their group after the first mission we had. I can say that it was making me so good inside of me to not be seen just as an tool or something but as an real human being.

During these nines days, we have been tracking the three Stone contacts who became our targets after we discover their names in the West-Berlin warehouse. The first one was located in West Germany in Stuttgart and we got him two days after our first operation, the second one was living in Paris and like the other one, it took two days to have him brought down by us and for the third one, he was located in Milan but for him, we had to spent 3 days to neutralize him because he was so paranoid & too suspicious and even with that, we got him too. We didn't spent too much time in West-Berlin, travelling between temporary safehouses around the continent and it was sometimes better.

All this time, I didn't think too much of calling Freya again as I was more focused on our mission to neutralize Stone's contacts around Western Europe. I talked more about this to Park and I decided that the next time I'm doing it, she should be next to me as an moral support and for her to know about me. About my memories, it was rather small ones : having just talk with Zasha, Dedov or Portnova but nothing too big....nothing that could help me to know if I helped Zasha escape.

The eighth day, we came back to West-Berlin all exhausted to have nearly work non-stop during these longs days against the guy in Milan and the first thing I did when we arrived at the safehouse was to go to our bedroom jump straight right into the bed with Park, making us sleep in no-time, in each other's arms, just wanting to have some peace.

Tapping the wheel with my fingers of the car I was did only add some stress in me as I was looking outside, raining like hell in the streets of West-Berlin during the night. It was just me in that car, parked near an apartment into the center of the city, with my bag on the front passenger seat and a paper that gave me indications and the name of the place I needed to go called 'Die Höhle'.

I took a look at the piece of paper in my hands, removing my hand from the steering wheel to grab my bag, still looking nervous before I put the piece of paper in my jacket, put my hood on and then get out of the car under the heavy rain to walk inside the place I needed to be. It was very modest for an place like this. I got up the stairs as the apartment I needed to go was at the first floor.

When I arrived at the front door of the apartment, I was nearly hesitant to knock but I couldn't back down now : I need to save Zasha from that prison....from Perseus himself. So, I knocked two times, making a sort of signal code until I heard someone coming next to the door.

"Who is this ?" It was the voice of a man, sounding tought and young at the same time.

"It's Grigoriev." I replied, sniffing and looking at the door optical peephole, knowing that the guy was watching me through it.

"Ah...the Winter Soldier." He was sounding relieved to see me.....and me almost angry with that nickname before he open the door. "Come in." He added, removing himself from the way, allowing me to enter the apartment that was more looking as an military outpost than a simple apartment : there were guns on the wall, on some tables.....a big armory, I can say.

"Grigoriev herself !" I was greeted by another man sit on the couch of the living room of the place, looking at me as he had his eyes put on a sort of dashboard on the wall. "Never thought that Perseus will send you here." He then offered his hand but I literally refused to shook hands with him. "Well, it's looks like you're not very amical.....I'm Dietrich by the way."

"Good for you !" I scoffed, putting my bag on a free table before I looked at the 'dashboard' discovering Zed's picture on it, along with pictures of the Spandau Prison too. "So, what's the plan ?" I directly asked.

"Hans, tell her !" Dietrich ordered to the other guy who started to walk near the 'dashboard'.

"Krypto is actually detained in the....."

"Their name is Zasha !" I exclaimed sounding angry, cutting Hans straight, putting my hands on my waist before I could see both sniffing at me.

"Continue, Hans." Dietrich spoke up, looking at him.

"As I said, they are actually awaiting to be interrogated in the Spandau Prison and our mission is to get them out of here." Hans went on, explaining to me the mission....not the plan.

"And about the plan ?" I asked again.

"Me & you...." Dietrich pointed at me & him. "We're going to pose as MI6 agents that will transfer them somewhere else, one of the guards will help us in the mission."

"This month, it's British guards keeping the prison so it's better to pose as MI6." Hans continued the statement as I know that each month, the Four Powers is each one, keeping the prisoners in the place each month.

"And once we got Zasha back ?" I questioned them, sounding worried

"Why you're asking, Grigoriev ?" Dietrich called me out, surprised of me. "We got them somewhere discreet in the city and then....Bang !" He mimicked an gunshot with his fingers....In me, hell was going to be unleashed on these guys, they never wanted Zasha alive out of the city but out of the picture. "That bastard, as I heard, want to talk to the MI6." He added as I looked away for just an second, angered inside.

"I will stay here during the entirety of the operation." Hans explained. "Once you're finished, you came back to me."

"Guess it will be for tomorrow ?" I told them and they both nodded.

"You can install yourself here in one of the free bedroom...tomorrow, we're going for an hunt to get this rat killed !" He said, almost laughing as I walked to get to a bedroom that Hans showed to me, following him until he left me alone inside that bedroom.

"Fuckers...." I whispered alone to myself in the bedroom before I got myself into bed, looking at the ceilling of the room, angered...in rage....ready to explode....

"I'm going to save you, Zed....and kill those fucking monsters !"

When I woke up the next morning in the bed, I could feel a big pain inside my chest, thinking about that memory I just had back : Perseus never wanted to have Zasha back, he wanted that we helped them escape before killing them in a safe place and I'm sure as hell that I didn't do it, I saved them and it was the only thing I had to do this day. I killed those fuckers and I saved Zasha, it's the only thing I could think right now. But also, I was thinking that I just exactly remember the exact location of a Perseus safehouse in the city.

I quickly dressed up after taking a quick shower before I decided to go downstairs to join the others in the living room. During my way down, I took some deep breaths to calm myself down, still shocked of that memory and once it was good, I finally stepped out from the stairs to get into the living room.

"Yes, thanks you for the intel, Song !" It was Garrett's voice as he was speaking with a satellite phone to Song, standing up behind an couch, he was alone in the living room for the moment....Song was a South Korean woman who was working with Woods's team and as I heard, we maybe have something good. It was the first time in days their team called us to give us something.

"Happy hunting, Donnie." It was the voice of Song before she hanged up the phone with him....blushing from that.

"Love you, Song." He added before their line went shut and as I stepped inside the living room.

"Donnie ?" I exclaimed, surprised to hear that for the first time before they looked back at me, also surprised to see me there. "Must be someone very close to you." I added before I sit on the couch with him still blushing.

"Yeah, very close." He said, almost embarrased as he scratched the back of his head. "Let's just that me & her....well....she's my fiance." He revealed to me and I was happy for him as he showed a ring he had on his left finger that I never saw.

"Wait, what did I hear ?" It was Park who came out from the kitchen, shocked about hearing this from Garrett himself, holding two cups of coffee, she wasn't aware of it.

"Uhm...yes, Park. I have an fiance." He affirmed to her, still looking surprised as she stepped in the living room. "It's been 4 months from now on."

"And you never told me ?" She told him, fainting an incomprehension. "I thought we were friends !" She snorted.

"I was going to tell you by the way." He sit on the couch before Park smile at him, happy for him.

"It's good news, I'm happy for you." She admitted before she walked next to me with her cups of coffee, handing one to me. "By the way, hi Yiri." I smiled as I took my cup in hands and she sit next to me.

"Where's Greta ?" I asked, looking around before taking a sip.

"Greta is in town to meet with her superiors and help some agents as her side project, should be coming back in the afternoon." He responded to me, taking his own cup in hands too. I know that Greta need sometimes to meet with her bosses as I was explained too....Her seduction towards me stopped the first day we arrived in Milan after Park make some heavy signs that me & her were an thing without explaining it clearly. "Everyone got an good sleep ?" He questioned us.

"Yeah.." I breathed in a low voice, my cup near to my mouth as I looked to Park. "Got an memory back..."

"Really ? What did you see ?" She wanted to know more like everytime and apparently, Garrett wasn't so troubled by that as he surely know about who I am and what I suffered.

"I...I had to go to West-Berlin to help my friend Zasha escape the Spandau Prison." I answered, still in a low voice, thinking about what that Dietrich said. "Perseus wanted to have them killed."

"Shit." Park whispered, putting her free hand behind my back. "Do you know what happened next ?" I shook my head.

"Wait, you said the Spandau Prison, right ?" Garrett spoke up, sounding confused at hearing me talk about that prison so I nodded to him. "Damnit, Park, you don't remember ? Our superior at that time tasked us to go interrogate a cryptographer in that prison."

"Yeah, I remember." She exclaimed, looking at him with wide eyes as if she had an realization in her head. "I remember that when we got in the prison, we wanted to talk to them until the guards told us that there were already MI6 agents that talked to them."

"It was me." I looked down for an second, breathing about talking about it.....Park was there with Garrett the day I helped Zasha escape. "I was there that day....we were at the same place."

"Listen, I can ask for the MI6 report of the event that day." She said to me with an grin, her hand on my back. "To say that....we could have met before all of this."

"I don't know." I  told her, half grinning wondering of what would have happened if I crossed path with Park that same day. "Anyway, there's something else."

"Something else ?" Park repeated.

"I know exactly a location of a Perseus safehouse in the city, they called it...."

"Die Höhle" Garrett was the one to cut me straight, apparently knowing it in advance....did I speak too loud in my memory or he can see through my head ?....I looked at him with wide eyes after that. "That's why Song called us, they found that intel in their previous mission in Kazaksthan." He explained as we, with Park, looked at him curiously. "Center of the city, I presume ?" I nodded.

"Well, something that could help after we got nothing from the last guy." Park admitted, referring to the fact that the guy in Milan didn't speak or had something big against Stone. "We can pay that place a visit today."

"Yeah, good idea." I expressed, looking at her with an big smile before I looked at Garrett. "You're really a genius...Donnie." I laughed about it, Park doing the same as he was blushing from it.

"Whatever." He said, rolling his eyes as he got up from his couch. "Enjoy the free time before this afternoon." He scoffed before he left the room, leaving me & Park, having breakfast with a new mission in line.

After that revelation and finishing our breakfast, we spend the end of the morning to search some informations about the place in the archive room to see if this place was already suspected to hide Perseus agent and as I can see, a BND file told us that this place was on their watchlist for some years until they removed it from that list one year ago but even with that, we needed to know if the place was still used and if we will have something against Stone in it.

We ate at noon, looking at the dashboard full of all the intels we got during those nine days before we decided at the beginning of the afternoon to plan our moves to the place : we are just going to make an little raid on that place, using only our pistols as the apartment was in the center of the city and look for intels before leaving the place, taking everything we need to take.

We wanted to wait for Greta to come back from the operation but it was better for us to go directly to the apartment instead of staying at the safehouse as she didn't told to Garrett at the exact time she could come back here. During the way at this Perseus hideout, I was quite nervous to return back to this place, hoping that I will not going to make a crisis in it if there are something bad for me.

I took a deep breath as Garrett parked the car behind the apartment complex in an alley in case we got an problem to get away from here. We got out of the car and enter the same hallway I remember from the back.

"Ok, let's do it." Garrett started, getting his pistol in hand as he took the lead, getting up the stairs, following him.

"Hope that Perseus didn't abandon this place." I breathed as I arrived with Park behind me in the first floor, walking to the door I remember to have knock. "Wait, let me do something."  I suggested to Garrett, wanting me to try to use the knock signal I have used to get in in my memory. I knocked like I did but there were no responses or people moving inside.

"So, we force open the door..." Park whispered as I moved away to let Garrett get in front of it.

"Well, be prepared !" He took a breath and then with his right feet, he force open the locked door of the apartment, quickly aiming inside for any surprise but no bullet coming towards. "Nobody in here." He exclaimed as he enter the apartment with us....this place wasn't even abandoned but no one was here.

"This place is like an fucking armory." Park affirmed, discovering the guns on a table in the living room. I entered the living room...still hearing myself talking with Hans & that Dietrich on that couch as I aimed towards it. "So, Perseus is still using the place." She added, looking in the direction of the entrance, checking if no one was coming.

"Let's see if there's something in those files." I exclaimed, looking at 2 files disposed on a small table near the couch of the room. I took a first file discovering the records of a man called 'Sebastian Vargas'. "Someone know a Sebastian Vargas ?" I asked to both of them

"Shit, big name." Garrett was the one to reply as he was looking at a window, overlooking the alley where our car was. "Fucker from the M-19, working with Perseus since a long time, I can tell you more once we got back."

"Well, that's maybe a lead to....." I put his file to the side before I froze myself in place, discovering the last files that was under Vargas's records....a name that I never thought to have seen again...."Greenlight." I whispered loudly. "Park !"

"Yes ?" She looked at me, curious and worried by my voice.

"Greenlight....is here...deactivated but...Stone....has stolen two warheads from its arsenal." I responded, looking at the file about it, my blood almost getting frozen as I thought that it was done about Greenlight.

"You got to be shitting me." She said to her as she walked next to me, to take a look at the file I was holding, trembling. "Hudson told me that it was done, finished after Solovetsky !" She was sounding in rage against him. "Son of a bitch !" She cursed loudly, almost throwing the file away.

"I'm taking the files and we're out of here !" I affirmed as I took the files under my jacket before getting up after I had to sit to take a look to those.

"I'm going to check....." Park started to said before she was cut by someone hidden in the kitchen, assaulting her directly....we stayed focused on the living room but not everywhere in the apartment. "Aaaahhh..." I could hear scream painly as the man who attacked threw to her very hot water from an pan on her left arm before she fall on the ground, holding her arm in pain, almost crying as Garrett moved quickly to get this guy out.

"Take that, you sucker !" Garrett yelled as he striked the man with the back of his gun, knocking him instantly and getting the hot pan out of his hands as for me, I moved quickly to get to Park.

"Park !" I redressed her as she was almost crying in pain from her arm. "Don't worry, I'm here."

"My....arm....burning." She breathed, looking at the part of her arm all red from the burning before looking at me with tears in her eyes. "Please."

"Don't worry, we're out of here !" I told her as I moved to get her right arm behind my neck, holding her to get her up. "Garrett, you're okay ?"

"Yeah." He started to reply. "Gonna take this guy with us too." He then moved to get the unconscious guy on his shoulders. "We're going to know more with him in case, let's get out of here before the cops showed up." He added as he was the first one to leave the apartment, with the guy on his shoulders, armed as I slowly followed with Park in pain, having troubles to walk normally.

"It's okay, Park. I got you !" I affirmed to her as we walked out of the apartment, still holding her and making her sure that she was okay, not wanting anyone to hurt her too much....

"Stay strong, Park....I need you and you know that !"