#next to my tiny red car with the pink fluffy steering wheel

[paralien]

got stopped by the police while comet hunting, calling that them cometing at me

[pet1teyn]

chapter two: an invitation calls to us

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Y/N smiled as she watched her appa leave her room. She felt like a weight was lifted off her shoulder after confiding with her daddy.

But soon her attention turned to something else as her conversation with her dad was long forgotten. 

“FUCK! I STILL NEED A PARTY DRESS” Y/N exclaimed. 

Leaping up from her bed, Y/N scrambled to her bathroom to redo her makeup and hair before leaving her room.

She raced down the stairs and grabbed her keys before bolting out the door. She unlocked the door of her bubblegum pink Tesla and slid into her hot pink leather seats. Y/N put her hands on her rhinestone-studded flamingo-pink fluffy steering wheel and backed out of the driveway. 

All of a sudden, she felt her car hit something.

“FUCK MY LIFE!” she gasped. “WHAT THE HELL DID I JUST RUN OVER! I LITERALLY CANNOT PAY FOR INSURANCE. I DON’T WANNA GO TO JAIL,” Y/N wailed as she blinked her long curly eyelashes repeatedly. 

Hesitantly, she opened the door of her bubblegum pink car and stepped outside. She slowly walked to the front of her car, her tiny fists ready to punch anything that might jump at her. 

She jumped back 3 feet as her eyes laid on a peculiar sight. 

Dirty blonde locks caressed a beautiful, but unconscious, face from the man underneath her car. His features were angular, yet delicate. He had thick and straight eyebrows that framed his doe-like eyes and complimented his high-set nose. He had beauty marks on his face but instead of detracting from his beauty, they only added to it. His lips looked soft and contrasted with his razor-sharp jawline that looked like it could cut diamond.

The only thing that tainted his near perfect face was the crimson red blood running down his forehead. 

Y/N took a moment to examine the ethereal being that laid in front of her. For a moment she forgot the emergency at hand. 

Suddenly, she snapped out of her trance and began pacing in front of her car trying to think of what to do.

The beautiful man groaned and rolled over. Y/N gasped and fumbled her phone out of her pink crocodile leather handbag.

“Wait,” the man said, staring deeply into her eyes as his hand gently grasped her wrist. His voice was smooth, rich, and velvety. It drew Y/N in, like a moth to a flame, helpless in the face of subtle seduction.

“Omo!” She gasped, trying to break away from his iron grasp. But he held her there, staring deeply into her cerulean orbs.

“Were you the bitch that ran over me,” the man in front of her growled.

“I-I-I-I’m s-so ss-sorry, sir-nim-oppa-nim,” Y/N stuttered adorably.

But that only angered the man in front of her more as he yanked Y/N towards him until their faces were millimeters apart.

Y/N felt his warm breath fanning her face and she almost sighed at how nice he smelled. He smelled minty and floral, with rich lemony undertones but a strange irony tang.

Suddenly, Y/N yelped as she forcefully tugged her tiny wrists away from the strange but majestic man in front of her. She bolted back to her bubblegum pink car and drove away gripping her rhinestone studded steering wheel in fear as her knuckles turned white.

“Oh my god. What a freak. Like, he’s hot, but still weird af,” Y/N muttered to herself, chewing on her lip, as she drove to the Chanel store.

When she got there, she stepped out of her car and sashayed to the store. 

“Hello, mistress Y/N,” growled the man who opened the door for her. 

Y/N ignored him and strutted to the designer dress aisle.

“Hmmmm. How about no,” she said, tossing aside a velvet burgundy floor-length ball gown. “Too tacky.”

Y/N continued looking through the rack before giving up. There’s like, nothing good here, she thought, throwing a silk sheath dress to the floor. Suddenly, she had an idea. 

She walked over to the fitting rooms and flashed a pearly-white smile at the man in charge of it. 

“Hi there! I’m Y/N. I don’t suppose you have any new party dresses in stock?”

Y/N looked the man up and down. He was kind of hot but looked a little too young for her. Risking another glance, Y/N thought that there was something familiar about the man. 

He was tall, dark, and handsome. His black hair contrasted with his pale skin and scarlet eyes gazed at her from underneath long eyelashes. Wait a second, Y/N thought, red eyes? That freak from earlier had red eyes too!

Y/N had an idea. “Hey,” she called, “do you know anyone with red eyes?”

The man looked at her and raised a single eyebrow imperiously before looking her up and down. He scoffed, seemingly unimpressed with what he found. He beckoned for her to follow him with a wave of his elegant hand.

He led her to the back of the store, which was dimly lit but like, in a romantic kind of way. Pulling down a box from the shelf, the man gestured for Y/N to move back. He set the box down on the floor and opened it, shaking out the most beautiful dress that Y/N had ever seen. It was love at first sight.

She tugged the dress out of the man’s hands and dashed back to the dressing room, slamming the door shut behind her. Inside the dressing room, Y/N zipped up the dress and smoothed it out over her curves.

She was gorgeous. 

The dress was, of course, blush pink and made of delicate, skin tight silk with holographic glitter in an ombre pattern from the bottom of the skirt. It was sleeveless and low cut, daringly exposing some cleavage, while the mid-thigh skirt had a large slit, almost up to her waist.

I have to buy this dress, Y/N thought as she examined herself in front of the floor length mirror while running her hands down her waist.  She quickly stripped the dress off of her and ran to the counter to check it out with her daddy’s credit card. 

Finally content, she grabbed the bag and walked back to her car, not missing to glance at the strange red eyed man.

OH MY GOD, Y/N thought. THAT’S THE NISHIMARU KID OR WHATEVER WHO SKIPPED A GRADE BUT IS NEVER AT SCHOOL! Wow…he got kinda…………fine–

Dismissing her thoughts, Y/N walked back to her bubblegum pink car and drove back home. A chill ran down her spine as she recounted the events that happened earlier in the day. The face of the strange boy underneath her car flashed in her mind as she quickly tried to push it aside and focus on the party.

Y/N reached home, quickly throwing on the dress, redoing her hair and makeup and tripping over her feet as she stumbled into her Barbie pink stilettos.

Y/N grabbed her hot pink makeup bag as she fumbled through it to find her neon pink lip gloss and quickly slapped it on. Checking over her face one more time in the mirror, Y/N gave herself a satisfied glance as she swiped on her glittery pink eyeshadow.

As she closed the door to her house, she felt her phone vibrating in her hand.

“HEY BESTIE, ARE U COMING OR WHAT?!” Yuna yelled through the phone.

“STFU Yuna, I'm on my way” Y/N giggled as she flipped her hair and twirled it around her finger.

Quickly throwing her phone into her rose pink purse, Y/N walked to her car and drove off to Jackson Wang’s party. 

As she pulled up to Jackson’s house she could hear the dulcet tones of Twice booming through the house as What is Love was blaring through the speakers. 

Y/N made her way inside, slipping her body through the sweaty crowd and sashaying to Yuna, who was smiling and waving at her enthusiastically.

“HEY BITCH U MADE IT I THOUGHT U WERE DEAD” Yuna shouted over the music.

Y/N simply smiled and shrugged as she grabbed a bottle of vodka from the counter and sexily downed the whole thing and shoved the entire bottle into her mouth, ignoring the burning sensation radiating in her throat. A few drops of the alcohol dripped down the side of her mouth, but without a care, she wiped it with the sleeve of her expensive Chanel dress. 

All of a sudden, her breath hitched as her own orbs met a familiar pair of eyes. Eyes blood red and promising danger, the man who she ran over glared at her from across the room.

Without breaking eye contact, he began to stalk his way over, pushing his way through the crowd. As he drew near, Y/N felt a cold fear sink to the bottom of her stomach. Her eyes flitted through the room, frantically scanning for a way out. No luck, she was trapped. Desperately, Y/N tried to shove through the crowd.

An ice-cold hand shot out from behind and grasped her wrist. Y/N’s vision began to blur and she regretted drinking all of that vodka. She felt something sharp on her neck and before she blacked out, she faintly heard Yuna’s voice.

“Sunghoonie-oppa! Do you like my present for you? I promise she’ll be very tasty,” Yuna chirped.

Through the fog swirling through her head, Y/N could only wonder what Yuna was saying to the man as her eyes began to close. 

Y/N’s world went black, leaving only a faint feeling of betrayal.

Author’s notes:

What a plot twist🫢🫢🫢🫢🫢

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[feiwelinchen]

How Tsukishima would react when you bring home a kitten

Tsukishima Kei x reader (I’m not sure I’m using pronouns, but I wrote it for a f!reader)

Warnings: angst, Tsuki is an idiot; this is my first post, so I don’t know what else I should warn you about; English is not my first language; copy pasted it from Word, sorry if the layout or such is messed up.

Word Count: 2k

I upload it on ao3 as well. Please don’t repost. Reblogs and comments appreciated

I don’t own Haikyuu or the characters

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You heard the click of the lock just before the front door opened and closed. Then the rattle of keys hitting the glass of the bowl by the door.

"I'm home." Tsukishima's voice rang through the apartment. He furrowed his brow when there was no answer. Your shoes were in the small genkan; you should be home. "I said I'm home!" He repeated himself; it wasn't like you not to answer. Tsukishima entered the light living room.

And there you were, sitting on the couch, hunched over and looking absolutely guilt-ridden.

"What did you do?", Tsukishima's annoyance was clear as day. He knew that look on your face. It was the exact look you had that day you broke his favourite dinosaur cup. The same look, when you ate all the strawberry chocolate while on your period, the particular look you wore the day you confessed to him.

 You were still in high school back then, but you had known Tsukishima Kei for a few years already since you have been seated next to him on your first day in middle school. He became your friend first, but after a year of friendship, he became your first love. Your only love, for that matter. You kept it quiet, though. You knew how he could be and how this revelation might alter your dynamic. So you kept your mouth shut as long as you could. But at the end of your second year at Karasuno, you couldn't keep it in any longer. You met him on the rooftop, and he stopped the moment he saw you. Your face was tilted to the left, your lower lip between your left canines. Your brows were ever so slightly furrowed, with your tear trimmed eyes looking upwards directly into his soul.

"Even though this might destroy our friendship", you started, "even though you might never talk to me again after that."

"I-", Tsukishima starts but was immediately interrupted.

"Please." You stammered. "Let me finish before I lose my courage and become the coward I am again."

"You're not a coward.", his voice was stern.

"Tsuki. Please." And to your surprise, he kept his mouth shut. "Even… even though you will probably laugh at me or make fun of me or whatever… I have to tell you because I can't anymore." You took a deep breath. "Tsukishima Kei." He straightened at his full name. "I'm in love with you. And I have been for four years already. And I know you don't like me like that, and that's fine. I don't expect anything, and I really want to stay friends. But if you can't, I understand. I just… needed you to know. I needed you to know how I feel." Your facial expression hadn't changed throughout all of this. "You can say something now, Tsuki." Your mumble barely reached him. "Please say something.", you pleaded after a few more moments of deafening silence.

"I knew you were dense, but wow," Tsukishima smirked. "And a good actress, I might add. Four years. Really? That's an awfully long time for a teen crush. And I would know. So how about we go to your place and talk about how utterly simple-minded you must be not to pick up any signal I send you over the last five years, huh?" At that, you perked up. "I was watching you closely, but you never gave anything away. Not once did you give me any indication you might like me more than just a friend. I'm honestly a bit impressed by all of that. Why the heck did you wait so long?"

"I didn't want to ruin our friendship", you mumbled.

"Yeah, well. Congrats. You will get upgraded to girlfriend anyway. Now come. If we hurry, we can get some strawberry shortcake from the bakery on our way." He turned around and left, trying to calm his rapidly beating heart and force the blush on his cheeks to vanish with sheer willpower.

 He would never admit it out loud, but this look of yours, this very facial expression: Head tilted to the left, bottom lip between your left canines and eyebrows slightly furrowed, this was his favourite demeanour of yours, for it brought him back to the day on the rooftop. When his heart had been beating faster and louder than anything. When you confessed and put an end to his silent misery. When you became his, and he became yours.

So when you were sitting there, all guilt-ridden and lovely, he had to fight down his smile and the blush creeping its way onto his cheeks – just like all those years ago. Just like always when you looked like that. He knew he wouldn't like what was to come, but still, he knew this wouldn't be too bad – nothing could.

"What did you do?" He repeated with an annoyance laced voice. "Just get it over with."

You didn't answer but slowly lifted your hands and a tiny fluffy looking kitten with them. A high pitch mewl escaped the small pink mouth of the little black furball.

"Did you… did you buy a cat?" Tsukishima asked, utterly perplexed. He had some ideas about what you could have done. Getting a cat without even asking was not one of them.

"He is so cute. I was at Yachi's –"

"Was it her idea?" He butted in, in a frighteningly calm voice.

"We were just looking at the shelter's website, and then I saw him, and I immediately fell in love with him and I… I just got him." You cradled the kitten in your arm, and he nuzzled your hand.

"And you didn't think of asking first?" Tsukishima's voice cracked a bit. His temper was coming out.

"You would have said no."

"Of course, I would have said no!" His speech got louder. "We can't have a cat. We're living in an apartment!"

"I talked to the landlord. Cats are ok!" You stated quickly. Hoping to bring some peace to his mind. Unfortunately, quite the opposite was the case.

"So you called the landlord, but not your boyfriend, who will have to live with your decision and should get a say in what kind of animal he is sharing his home with?"

The sound of his voice scared the black cat. He jumped out of your arms, looking for protection under the TV cabinet.

"Kei! You're scaring him!" You fell to your knees, trying to coax the small feline out of his hiding spot. But nothing worked, and the little one stayed put in his place.

"Get dressed and pack him up; we are bringing him back." That was all he said before vanishing in the bathroom.

It took nearly half an hour for the little furball to come out from under the TV. The whole time you pleaded with your boyfriend to just let you keep him, but Tsukishima didn't budge.

"If I wanted a cat, I would have brought it up with you, and we would have talked about it and made a decision together. You know we are supposed to make these kinds of decisions as a couple and not solo, right?" He snarled while fastening his seatbelt. "And stop heaving like a brat. What did you think would happen?" He asked. "That I would come home finding a cat in my living room and instantly fall in love with it?"

"Kind of… yeah." You mumbled, stroking the soft fur between the ears of the kitten in your lap. He purred heavily, not knowing what was happening around him.

"Do you even know me? When did I ever fall instantly in love with anything?"

"You instantly fell in love with me!" You retorted.

"I should never have told you that."

The car ride was silent, apart from your sniffles and the mewls of the cat that desperately tried to cheer you up by licking your nimble fingers and purring his heart out.

Tsukishima, at one point, tried to take one of your hands – to hold it like he always did while driving – but you slapped him away.

"Did you name him already?" He asked after a few more minutes with both hands on the steering wheel.

You shook your head.

"Good. That will make it easier."

 He pulled the car into the parking lot of the shelter. It was just before closing. Tsukishima was lucky – you were not.

He looked at the animal shelter and then back at you. You stared at him.

"Kei… please…"

Tsukishima swiped away a stray tear with his thumb and held your face. "Come on. They are closing soon."

He got out of the car, walked around it and opened your door – something he usually wouldn't do, but Tsukishima knew what had to be done to get you out of the car. You left with the kitten pressed to your chest.

You were waiting in the entrance room of the animal shelter. An employee said she would be with you shortly and scurried away. Tsukishima looked around and read a few posters and flyers while he waited. His glance drifted to you every once in a while, observing your interactions with the cat in your arms. He watched how you kissed the little furry head and scratched the tiny chin, and he saw the pink tongue licking your fingers. He pinched the bridge of his nose, pushing his glasses up while doing so, before shifting his focus back to his flyer.

"Sorry for the wait.", the blonde employee was back. "How can I help you with?"

Tsukishima was at the counter in no time. "My girlfriend adopted this kitten today." He motioned in your direction and waved you over. "And…" He watched you walking towards him and spotted new tears in your eyes. He took a deep breath.

"Oh no. Is your partner allergic?" The employee immediately inquired.

"No… That's not it." Tsukishima said. "I… We…" He looked at you again, then at the kitten in your arms. His eyes fell down to the flyer still in his hands. "Well… this flyer says house cats should better not be raised alone. So we are here to get another cat. Preferably one he gets along with." He pointed at the cat.

It took Tsukishima less than 2 minutes to decide on a red male kitten from the same litter, who climbed up his leg the very moment Tsukishima set foot into the enclosure.

 You were sitting in the car while your wonderful, lovely, and absolutely adorable boyfriend was driving. Two little cats cuddled into each other and sleeping on your lap. You grinned at him.

"Be glad I love you so much, dumbass." He said drily.

"I am, Kei. I love you." You answered and took his hand.

"You're an idiot."

"But I am your idiot." You planted a kiss on the back of his hand, which made him smile.

"We still need names.", he said after a while.

"Ok… How about Hinata for the red one and Kageyama for the black one?"

"We are not naming our cats after my former teammates, especially not after that hyperactive moron Hinata Shoyo, nor his Highness King Kageyama Tobio!" Tsukishima warned you.

"What?" Your eyes were blown wide. "But I thought you chose him because he looked so much like Chibi-chan."

"Absolutely not! And he does not look like that Ginger."

"… well… he does, though."

"He does not, or I turn around, and we return both!" He threatened.

 A week later, you came back from the grocery store when you found your boyfriend on the couch with two sleeping kittens on his chest. You quickly snapped a couple of photos.

"If anyone ever sees these, I'm renaming them to Ankylosaurus and Iguanodon! Are we clear?" He warned you with a dangerous sparkle in his eyes – one that promised much more later on.

"Crystal clear, Tsukki-poo."

He growled at the nickname. But everything was forgiven and forgotten when he saw the strawberries you bought to bake him some shortcake the next day.

[gureishi]

Happy birthday, beloved Bee! 

My dear friend @agent-bee​—I can’t tell you how happy and honored I am to know you. I’m constantly in awe of you: you’re talented and smart and funny and strong and thoughtful and sweet and also extremely hot, and I’m so lucky to be your friend. Here is a little gift for you, babe ❤️

By midday, you are exhausted.

Everyone has been demanding your attention all at once today; you’ve hardly gotten a second to yourself. You make your way across the small office and sigh as you sink into your chair. It’s not that you’re not capable of all of it—you are; it’s not that you’re not appreciated for your efforts—you are.

It’s just that it’s a whole lot all at once and you’d sort of hoped that today would feel special.

Idly, you check your phone, which has been steadily buzzing throughout the day as messages trickle in from your friends and family. Each one gives you a little burst of joy—but they don’t solve the problem, which is that you’re here and you’re tired and you just need to stretch your legs or maybe have a nap or a glass of wine.

Your phone lights up as soon as you look at it—and you smile the way you always do when you see his name. He’s been strangely quiet all day; you’ve wondered if he went back to sleep after seeing you off this morning. He does that sometimes.

You unlock your phone—and have to put a hand over your mouth to stop from laughing. What has he done?

It’s not the first time he’s gotten into your phone remotely and messed with things, but this is a new one: all of your apps, it seems, have been replaced by little cats. Cats in birthday hats.

There’s a fluffy white cat in a bright pink hat. There’s a big black cat covered in streamers. There are pictures of your cats, which you suppose he’s just taken today.

You know you’ve got a message from him, but you can’t figure out how to open it—when you tap the tabby cat that used to be your messages button, it wiggles and purrs. Suddenly—seemingly of its own accord—text appears across your screen.

“Come outside, meow,” it says. It’s pretty obvious who it’s from.

“Uh,” you say, standing abruptly. “I’ll be right back.”

If your phone were working normally, maybe you’d scold him. You’re at work, after all—and you really do need your phone for more than just cats—and—

And it’s so cute you could cry. You cross the office and your coworkers wave vaguely at you—everyone’s busy today. You can feel your heart hammering against your ribs as you push open the door to the street, wondering—hoping, praying—that he’ll be waiting for you.

You step out onto the curb and—oh.

One of his cars—a sleek silver Porsche—is parked right in front of your building. But it’s different.

And there’s a familiar face framed by messy red hair beaming at you through the window.

“Welcome to my spaceship, sunshine,” he says.

“Saeyoung.” You’re not sure whether to laugh or roll your eyes or kiss him. “Saeyoung, what did you do to your car?”

He winks, leans across the front seat, and opens the passenger side door for you.

You shake your head. The car looks crazy.

On the outside, he’s mounted bright red fins and a matching nose cone. The seats inside are covered in red leather and there’s a glowing control panel hung next to the steering wheel, which—knowing him—probably works. His face is lit up by hundreds of little glowing LEDs. The thing is definitely not meant to be driven on the road.

He pouts when you linger on the curb.

“Don’t you trust me?” he whines.

You do. Of course you do.

“Are we gonna blast off or something?” you ask, slipping into the front seat and inhaling deeply. You love the smell of his cars: leather and gasoline and him.

“In a sense,” he says, reaching over the console to squeeze your hand.

You watch as Saeyoung starts the engine. He always gets this intense look on his face when he drives, like he’s really about to catapult you both into space; he pulls out onto the road and you can’t resist leaning over and kissing the spot where his neck meets his jaw.

He giggles nervously, merging into traffic.

“Um,” he says. “You’re distracting your captain, honey.”

You laugh and lay a hand on his thigh, smiling when he squirms. He turns off the main street and you know he’s heading for the highway—and you should stop him, because you’re really not supposed to disappear from work for so long, but he’s got a glimmer in his eye and the sun is bright through the windshield and you feel lighter than you have all day.

“Baby,” you say, slipping your hand into his jeans pocket and watching his fingers tighten almost imperceptibly on the wheel. “I am technically at work right now.”

He turns to you and his smile is radiant.

“Just a quick trip to space,” he says. “I’ll have you back before they notice you’re gone.”

And it makes no sense, but you don’t doubt him. You lean back in the soft leather seat and feel the engine hum beautifully beneath you. He’s exiting the highway already—turning onto a back road you’ve never seen before. He drives one-handed, reaching for you—and you intertwine your fingers with his and watch curiously as he maneuvers his car across an empty parking lot and up the ramp of what appears to be a loading dock for a warehouse.

“Don’t think I’m doubting you for a second, baby,” you say slowly. “But how legal is this?”

He grins and puts the car in park, and then he presses a button on the car’s “control panel” and the big, industrial door to the dock starts to close behind you.

“Let’s call it medium legal,” he says.

The door shuts with a clang. Saeyoung smiles, winks at you—and then turns off all the lights in the car.

“Oh,” you say. “My god.”

In the total darkness, stars come to life—thousands of tiny ones on the roof and sides of the car. They’re glow-in-the-dark just like the ones on the ceiling of the bedroom you share—but they’re sparklier and somehow more startlingly three-dimensional than those.

They almost look real.

“Welcome to space,” he whispers, tangling a hand in your hair and pulling you close. “I made it for you, sunshine.”

You look into his fiery eyes and want to cry. It’s absurd and impractical and absolutely excessive, just like him—and he’s done it all for you.

“You’re a very good space captain,” you say, knowing your voice sounds strangled and strange. He gives you a glowing smile and then kisses you tenderly, so soft and slow it makes your head spin.

“You wanna know why I did it?” he whispers, his breath tickling your lips. You nod and he brushes your hair off your face, looking at you with a sort of heart-stopping intensity. “I know this is only a teeny tiny sliver of the universe,” he says. “But I wanted to give it to you.”

You kiss him again and he shivers.

“Why, baby?”

“Because,” he says. “Because every morning I wake up and you’re still curled up in my arms the way you were when we fell asleep, and I listen to your heart and feel the universe expand a little bit.”

You know what he means.

“And why else?” you purr. It’s too easy to tease him when you’re in the dark like this—and you run a hand up his thigh and watch his pretty eyes go wide.

“Because your birthday is my favorite day and you deserve to spend it in zero gravity,” he whispers. You can see by the light of the glow-in-the-dark stars that his cheeks are pink; you nibble his ear and he hisses.

“Is that all?”

“Because you’re my Bee,” he says, his voice shaky now, his hands tugging hopelessly at your hair. “And I love you.”

You already know.

“I love you too, baby,” you whisper. You kiss him more deeply this time and his whole body seems to come to life—his skin is hot to the touch and you can practically feel him buzzing.

“Don’t you, uh…” he stammers, trying to focus on you. “Didn’t you—you know—work?”

Your heart pounds so loud you can hear it echoing. His makeshift rocket ship feels solid and steady beneath you and his eyes are as bright as the stars.

“It can wait,” you say.

“Yeah,” he whispers, his breath hot on your neck, his hands falling to your waist. “Today’s special, after all.”

[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."

[rosegoldannie]

Something about Rowaelin Pregnancy ❤️

YES !!!

     Rowan awoke to an empty, cold bed, his... Aelin... nowhere to be found. At first, he thought nothing of it. Sometimes, he knew, Aelin woke up early and went for a run, or drove to the store to get some groceries, but she always left a note. This time, there was no note. 

     After searching through every room in their small townhouse, he began to worry, and whipped out his phone and typed a quick message. 

- Hey, call me when you get this

     He stared and stared at the screen, waiting for those blessed bubbles to appear, signaling her impending reply, but none came. Rowan checked out the front window, and saw that Aelin’s car was gone, and its usual space was covered in snow. A sickening feeling settled in his gut. Had she left him? No. No, Aelin wouldn’t, at least not without a text or note. 

     After an hour, Rowan called one of Aelin’s close friends from work. He didn’t particularly like the guy, but had nothing against him. Rowan knew he was a good guy, but didn’t like how quiet he was. “Hey, Rhys. It’s Rowan, Aelin’s friend.” He said, hating the slight tremor in his voice.

     “Hey, what’s up?” Rhys replied, sleep clouding his words.

     “Have you heard from Aelin today? She’s not at home, and I don’t know where she is,”

     Rhys instantly sounded more awake. “No, sorry. Here, I’ll give Feyre the phone, and I’ll be right over.” A slight ruffle, then a woman’s voice replaced Rhys. “Rowan? It’s Feyre. What’s going on?”

     Inwardly cringing at the commotion he was causing by interrupting their saturday morning, Rowan ran a hand through his silver hair. “I can’t find Aelin anywhere, and-” His throat tightened to the point of pain, and his voice gave out. “Shit, I just have a bad feeling.” He rasped.

     Feyre’s voice took on a comforting, motherly edge. “No worries, Rhys will be there soon. In the mean time, why don’t you try to call her?”

     Good idea.

     Rowan picked up their clunky landline, and dialed Aelin’s number. It went to voicemail after several rings. He tried again several times, only to get the same result. “Nothing.” He whispered, eyes clenching shut.

     Though she tried to hide it, he could hear Feyre’s worry in her tone. “Alright, I’m going to drop the kids off at the babysitter’s house, and I’ll help you look.” With that, Feyre hung up, and Rowan caught a small voice speaking in the background, which he knew to be their daughter, Zoe.

     Several minutes later, a sharp knock sounded, and he opened to door to find Rhysand, still clad in his snowman pajamas. Rowan threw on his nikes,  and followed Rhys out to his car. “Thank you for helping me,” Rowan murmured, feeling slightly awkward. 

     Rhys glanced over at him, the car speeding through the snow-covered streets. “No problem. Where to?”

     He directed him to Aelin’s cousin and best friend, Aedion and Lysandra’s, house. They hadn’t seen Aelin, and hadn’t heard from her, too wrapped up in their newborn, whom they had just brought back from the hospital a few weeks prior. Aedion told him not to worry though, because Aelin’s phone was probably just dead.

     When they returned to the car, Rowan broke down. Hot tears streamed down his cheeks, his face buried in his hands. Instead of a half-hearted pat on the shoulder, Rhys pulled him into a hug. “I know, we’ll find her.” he murmured.

     Rowan pulled back, wiping away his tears. “I’m probably over-reacting,” 

     Rhys’ eyes darkened. “No, you’re not. If this was Feyre, I’d be exactly where you are. Hell, I’d be in worse shape. I remember when Feyre-” He stopped suddenly, clenching the steering wheel even though they were still parked. “Who would Aelin trust aside from them?” He asked, jerking his head towards Aedion’s house.

     Rowan gave him a strange look. “Um, Elide Lochan, probably. They grew up together.” He gave simple directions to Lorcan Salvaterre’s house, where he knew Elide had been staying for the last few weeks, since her water heater exploded and destroyed her apartment. The normal half hour drive was done in less than ten minutes, aided by the lack of traffic, and the heavy snow that had begun to fall. 

     When they pulled up, the house was illuminated by light, and he could see Aelin’s car parked in the driveway. A heavy wave of relief crashed through him, easing some of the tension in his soul.

     Rhys parked the car, and led him up the walkway, where he could see Lorcan, propping open the door for them. Rowan, now freezing in his athletic shorts and hoodie, welcomed the warmth of Lorcan’s home. 

     He turned to his friend, eyes pleading.

     “She’s upstairs.” Lorcan stated, something hidden swimming in his eyes.

     Rowan gave him a nod of thanks, and bounded up the steps, taking them two at a time. When he reached the top, he heard Aelin’s voice floating out from the master bedroom, though he couldn’t make out what was being said. He knocked lightly on the doorframe, before peaking his head in. What he saw nearly shattered his heart.

     Aelin was perched on the bed, wrapped in a fluffy robe, her golden hair swept to one side, and her eyes and cheeks a puffy, angry red, as if she had been crying. Elide, seated next to her, murmured softly, “I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.” before striding from the room. She paused by Rowan for a second, and gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze, then continued down the hall.

     Rowan took several cautious steps towards his love, his pine eyes holding her turquoise ones. He watched as she set a mug of something warm and steaming on the nightstand. Cautiously, he sat down beside her, and took her hand in his. “Care to explain?” He purred, studying her.

     Aelin reached reached one hand into her robe, and gripped his hand tighter with the other. “Promise you won’t hate me?”

     His heart gave a painful twinge. Gods, what could it be? “Never, Aelin. I could never hate you.” He whispered. “My heart is yours until the end of time. It always has been.”

     Her eyes clenched shut, and she withdrew her hand from the robe, and opened her palm. In it, was a small white stick, with a little pink plus sign. Rowan studied it for a moment, before realizing what it was. tears pooled in his eyes, spilled down his cheeks. “You’re sure?” He rasped.

     Aelin nodded, eyes still clenched shut.

     He surged forward, gathering Aelin in as big of a hug as he could manage. “Oh gods,” He sobbed, face pressed into her neck. “Oh gods, oh gods.”

     After several minutes, they separated, and Aelin pressed a hand to his cheek, wiping away a stay tear. “You’re not mad?”

     He grinned, pressed a kiss to her lips. “Never.”

     Aelin allowed a tiny smile. “Gods, I’m stupid.” She muttered. Rowan cocked his head to the side in a question. She met his eyes reluctantly. “I thought that after Lyria... and everything else, that you wouldn’t want a child, and... I couldn’t handle that thought. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

     Rowan shook his head. “Aelin, my heart was never my own. It was always yours, even before we met. And it will stay that way until this universe is nothing but dust in the stars. Nothing can change how I feel about you.”

     Her eyes lined with silver. “I love you,” she murmured. 

     His answering smile was nothing short of brilliant. “I love you too, so so much.

     An impish smile danced across her face. “We’re going to be parents, Rowan. We’re having a baby!”

[selfships-in-spanish]

Its october, any spoopy ideas for Ona and the mafia boys?

I SWEAR I WASN’T PLANNING ON TAKING THIS FUCKING LONG TO ANSWER YOU, BUT THIS LITTLE FICLET REFUSED TO GET WRITTEN. GAH!

But here you go :D it took a fluffy route, I’m so sorry. But enjoy these three idiots being disgustingly cute together. And the Jericho gang being awesome 👀

Also infinite thanks to @tinmiss1939 for helping me out and fixing mistakes :_) you rock, girl ❤️

The streets were full of people in all kinds of costumes, shouting and laughing while taking pictures, the kids going door to door with their candy bags ready and a joyful mood around everything and everyone.

Halloween was always an exciting holiday for everyone, costume or not.

This year Ona convinced Connor and Richard to find matching costumes and was actually delighted when they finally said yes. The plan for tonight was to go along with Cole into his ‘trick or treat’ journey with his friends and other parents, and when it was way past midnight, the three of them would go to the Manfred’s halloween party until the early hours of the day.

Ona was distracted of her thoughts when the roaring of an engine and a familiar song blasting loudly out of the car speakers appeared on her left. She squinted, trying to look who were causing such noises, only to find a grinning Connor with his sunglasses on and ready to jump out of a beautiful red cabrio car. Richard was on the wheel, smiling as he saw her. Ona noticed it was most certainly an old but in perfect condition model, certainly Richard’s. Her eyes widened when she saw the horse emblem on the grille. Was that Richard’s 1965 Ford Mustang?!

As Ona thought, Connor jumped out of the car but instead of walking he danced towards her, sliding his feet at the rhythm and choreography of Greased Lightning, even singing along, until he was right in front of Ona only to turn around and go back to the car to show off the leather jacket with the ‘T-Birds’ logo and letters in it.

Ona couldn’t help but laugh, covering her mouth with her hand even though she knew it was useless. Connor went back to her, grinning, and sneaked his arms around her waist. The music was lowered down as it jumped onto the next track.

“What’s up doll?” his grin was contagious and Ona couldn’t help but to reciprocate it.

She took his sunglasses off, finding his brown gaze smiling up at her.

“Hello, handsome.” He looked so different from his usual self, both him and Richard. Used to see them in the pristine suits and the perfectly ironed shirts, they were clad in t-shirts, dark jeans, boots and leather jackets. They even styled their hairs to go along with the Grease costume.

“Ready for a ride?” Connor’s plan of stealing a kiss was interrupted by a car horn.

“C’mooon, we’re gonna be late! And keep it PG-13!” Cole’s voice rose out above all the background noise and bursted their little bubble. Connor turned around, scowling, and saw Cole throwing himself back at the steering wheel while Richard easily prevented him from doing so. Ona snorted.

“He’s right, you know. The Williams are waiting for us and Cole told me he really wanted to show Alice his Link costume.” Ona unwrapped Connor’s arms from her waist and dragged him with her, giggling at his pout.

Richard opened the door for her, winking, and pushed it so it was wide enough for Ona to slip through. Connor jumped back in on the backseat, next to Cole who had the perfect example of a shit-eating grin. Connor mouthed “gremlin” at him, flicking his nose. Oblivious to what was happening behind her, Ona leaned towards Richard and gave him a quick peck on his cheek.

“Lookin’ good, daddy-o.” Ona exaggerated the accent, wiggling her brows, but it made Richard laugh anyways. His cheeks turned slightly red.

Richard checked the side mirror for incoming cars, as well as the rear mirror to see if Cole had his seatbelt on. Once everything was in order he revived the engine, it’s roar powerful enough to make people look at them. Richard took great pride on his collection of cars and the absolute perfect condition he had them all in, and since Ona suggested them to go treat or tricking in Grease costumes, he decided it would be good to take his old mustang out for a little walk.

“Did you actually rehearse this?” Ona knew Connor wasn’t one for spontaneity, always needing to have everything under control, but maybe today was different.

“No.”

“Yes.”

The three of them answered at the same time. Connor and Richard looked dumbfoundedly at Cole, wounded that he would spill such secrets.

“Oh my God, really? Ona laughed, turning slightly around so she could see him better.

“Yes they did, and I have a video.” 

“You did not–” Connor was tempted to strangle him right there.

“Papa has the video, tell him to show you later.”

Thank God they were stopped at a red light, because Richard turned around, slowly, and looking directly into Cole’s eyes he spoke in the most serious voice Ona has ever heard him.

“Tell me you didn’t record that particular thing.”

“In full HD.”

“You goddamn gremlin.”

Ona gasped. Richard never cursed or lost his perfect control unless he was very, very stressed out or just about to lose it. Now Ona was seriously curious about the incriminating videos.

“Richard! Don’t use such language in front of Cole!”

“See Rich? Listen to the teacher.” Cole was far too much of a smart-ass, but at any given opportunity of having the upper hand on his brothers, he would gladly take it.

“Don’t make me turn this car around.” Cole decided it was better to drop the subject. He really wanted to go trick or treating with Alice.

Ona looked at the sheer domesticity of this scene, how after getting rid of the masks and layers they wear for outsiders they were just a family with their bickering and brotherly fights, and she couldn’t help but smile and laugh.

“What’s so funny? Our dignity and reputation is at stake!” Connor whined, leaning forward to Ona’s seat. 

“Well, now I really want to see the videos since they are so top secret.”

“You’re cruel, sunshine.” Connor mumbled into her hair, sighing.

The rest of the ride went smoothly, enjoying the chilly air and the halloween spirit. They reached Alice’s house and Luther graciously allowed Richard to park the vintage car in the garage.  All Richard had to do was let Luther take Kara for a very short ride around the neighborhood.  

The Andersons, Ona and Alice watched Luther speed down the street with Kara’s musical laugh raising above the engine’s roar. Alice took Cole’s hand and ran to show him their ‘spooky’ decorations on their garden. Since they were both dressed as Zelda and Link, Kara made sure to carve a Ganondorf jack o lantern. Luther helped, of course, he had quite a good hand with crafts. 

The brothers and Ona followed the kids, marvelling on the beautiful kept garden. Ona observed how they both completely ignored the thriving rose bushes. Huh, curious. Cole and Alice kept talking, engrossed in a discussion about some story point about a game Ona didn’t remember the name. While watching over them, she felt a pair of arms wrap themselves around her waist. The smell of Richard’s cologne tickled her nose. 

“I didn’t have the opportunity to tell you how beautiful you look.” Ona blushed at the feel of his lips brushing against her ear. 

“You don’t look so bad yourself, stud.” Ona felt his smile on her neck. “I really dig the leather jacket.”

“You do?” Richard let go slightly of her waist, letting Ona turn around in his arms to face him. Connor could handle the kids for a sec.

“It gives you a bad boy look,” Ona stroked his arms, her hands going up to explore the expanse of his chest. The jacket fit just right, enhancing his broad shoulders. He was such a sight. “I really like it.”

Richard made a mental note to put on the other leather jacket he had buried inside his closet. He bought it on a whim but never had much opportunities to wear it. Now he had the perfect excuse to do so the next time they went to pick up Cole. 

Kara and Luther came back, ready to go out for a night of walking and collecting candy. Cole and Alice ran outside, screaming and jumping around excitedly. Kara quickly went after them, leaving Luther talking about the mustang’s attributes with Richard, and Ona and Connor following them behind. The chilly air of the night proved to be a great excuse for Ona to inch closer to Connor. He wordlessly took her hand in his, brushing his fingers first. They both knew how much this gesture meant, as Connor always had his walls up, so when she glanced up at him Ona saw his small smile while he looked out for Cole. Tonight he wouldn’t care about people looking at them as some parents recognised their children’s teacher, looking at him, and for the public to know about his private life. Tonight was about Cole, about going out and have fun for the first time in years. 

As the night went on, Kara offered them all a warm cup of coffee from her thermos that they all eagerly accepted, specially Ona; the fabric of her skin-tight trousers and shirt wasn’t exactly thick. The pink jacket could only do so much and open red pumps weren’t exactly autumn ideal footwear. Ona was taken aback, though, by the faint taste of whiskey in it, really not thinking Kara was someone who occasionally drank or drank at all. Given her gentle and soft manners, it  was a surprise to find the burning sensation of the liquor there. Kara winked at her when she saw Ona’s surprised face, a tiny smile on her lips. Ona returned it.

Besides Kara’s coffee, Cole ran back to them more than once, giving Ona her favourite chocolate treats to quickly go back to the next house while slashing imaginary monsters with Alice. 

They quickly lost track of time, letting the kids run and play until they exhausted themselves. It was way past 9PM that Cole and Alice began to grow tired. The sugar rush only lasted so long and they stretched every last second of it until they were almost tempted to ask Luther to carry them. After walking back to the Williams home, Connor, Richard and Ona left Cole to their care, knowing how excited Alice and Cole were for tonight. Little did they know when they left, speeding up to the Manfred’s manor, that the kids had a night of candy and videogames planned.

Ona had only visited to the Manfred’s manor once, for a dinner event the brothers had to attend and brought her with them as their date. She still was not used to the avant garde opulence of the manor, and even less to how nice everyone was. It was Simon who opened the door to them, smiling in his ghostbusters costume. 

“I’m glad you could make it!” Simon stepped aside, letting them inside.

They could hear music beating loudly as they approached the door to the living room, people talking and laughing unaware of the new guests coming. Ona unconsciously straightened up, anxiety crawling up her body to settle on her guts. She couldn’t help but think about how most of the guests at this Halloween party were actual mobsters. Ona wasn’t stupid, she knew what she got herself into when the boys confessed their true professions after some incidents, but she still chose to welcome them in her life. It was still intimidating to think how all the people here were the sons and daughters of wealthy and important crime families. This was her life now. Besides, the Manfreds always treated her as if she was one of their own, being close friends with the Anderson boys and family. She felt at ease when Simon complimented her costume and proceeded to talk about the movie, being one of his all-time classics favourite.

North announced herself with a solid slap on Richard’s back, making him slightly stumble forward. She laughed loudly, proud of making this tower of a man stagger.

“I almost didn’t recognise you both! Who would have said we would live to see the day where you ditched the suits and ties and went bad boy for a day?” She winked at Ona. “I don’t know how you managed to convince them, but seeing how you are dressed, I think I may have an idea.”

The innuendo on her words made Ona blush and slightly stutter when she tried to mutter a response. She was not used to wear such skin-tight clothing, making her feel slightly exposed. Connor was the convincing one, begging her to wear the black outfit instead of the long skirt one.

“I see you ditched your costume to show your true self.” Connor crossed his arms, a smirk tugging his lips.

“Shush, mortal.” North righted the horns on her head, smirking like Connor. She was dressed as a devil with the wings and tail to go along. Oddly fitting.

They followed her outside where Markus and the rest of the gang were hanging out next to a small bonfire in the  garden. As the night went on and grew colder, the warmth of the flames proved to be a comforting heat, making most of them stay close to it. Richard was currently in a heated match of darts with Simon, their accuracy absolutely terrifying, while Connor sat down in one of the chairs talking with Markus about something trivial, Josh and Ona kept the fire going, the young teacher sharing her fair share of stories about jumping bonfires on her home town’s festivities. That knowledge made Connor stop mid-sentence to look at her, mouth slightly open, making, in turn, Markus laugh at the scandalised expression of his friend. Josh whistled, not believing the sweet and gentle teacher was capable of doing such risky, crazy things.

“There was a lot of alcohol involved. Ask my cousin Jordi about it.” Ona hid behind her cocktail.

As the night went on, everyone got drunker and tongues got looser. This translated into Markus going for the piano.  He looked at the Andersons with mischief in his eyes while he played the first notes of ‘You’re the one that I want’. This was no doubt North’s idea, watching delighted as Richard’s ears went red for what that song implied they wanted them to do. It was Connor who saved his brother from embarrassing himself, singing while going to where Ona was. He left his glass on a nearby table, extending his hand to her and winking. Drunk Connor meant carefree and silly Connor, and it made Ona giggle when he took off his leather jacket and moved to the rhythm. She played along, shrugging her own jacket off to let her shoulders bare. North cheered, encouraging them further. Connor couldn’t keep his hands off her, twirling her in his arms and pulling her back close to him. Ona let him lead, enjoying the open affection Connor was displaying. Ona laughed harder, breaking of character, when Connor shook his hips just like Travolta. Did he really rehearse this, somehow? Markus broke the magic of it all when he collapsed into tears and couldn’t play anymore, his belly hurting from laughing. He needed to find his forgotten glass to take a big gulp.

It went unsaid, but the Manfreds were very glad Ona had entered the Andersons’ lives. Seeing Richard smile and speak up more often, as he was doing now praising and congratulating Ona on her moves while candidly holding her waist in his hands, his lips on her ear, and Connor breaking down his self-imposed wall of indifference and coldness, leading to spontaneous jokes and silly, heartwarmingly moments, made them have a good feeling about their relationship. Even North, who had her reservations, quickly warmed up to Ona, seeing she was as inoffensive as a newborn kitten.

Speaking of which, she brought a box filled with hard plastic cups and ping pong balls.

They all quickly cleaned out a table, setting the cups and filling them with beer. After setting the rules and splitting into two teams, they began an unmatched battle. They both had a team member with incredible marksmanship, experienced players, calculating ones and finally, the ones who have no idea what are they doing but have lady luck on their side. 

After almost knocking over some expensive furniture in excitement whenever someone had to drink, they declared yet another tie and split into small groups again, some going out to the garden, others raiding the kitchen for very late snacks, while others crashed on the sofa or whatever surface they may find. Simon decided the floor was enough and passed out under one of the many tables, even managing to snatch a pillow before curling into it. Connor couldn’t find Richard or Ona. Frowning, he went on a search for them, going out to see Markus and North talking while North poked the almost dead fire with a stick. No sign of his partners. They weren’t in the kitchen either, thinking Ona may have had one of her cravings of sweet snacks. But nope, not there either. Now he was beginning to grow worried.

A quiet giggle came from behind the giraffe next to the bookshelves and spiral stairs. Connor followed the sound, finding Ona on Richard’s arms on the floor while he rested his back on the bookshelves, mindlessly playing with her snow-white curls, as she spoke. 

“Got room for one more?”  His lips tugged into a soft smile.

“Only if you prove to be a good heater. I’m cold.” Ona rubbed her cheek on Richard’s chest, rousing a chuckle while he let her get comfortable. She was like a spoiled house cat.

“I’m not a walking furnace like Rich here, but I can try. Scoot over.”

Ona ended up sandwiched between them, feeling their warm bodies next to hers. Richard kept his hands busy playfully poking at her curls and freckles, while Connor kept droning about some Halloween factoids—Richard wasn’t paying much attention, honestly.  Ona’s head rested on his shoulder, feeling suddenly completely drained from energy. The alcohol running inside her veins wasn’t helping. They were feeling a bit woozy too, so maybe it was time for them to go home and sleep it out. The next day could be spent in bed and not leaving the room for anything. Just a day for themselves. Richard sighed. That sounded good.

It was Markus who found them, quietly sneaking a picture and sending it to them for later. It was incredible how much they changed. For the better, he thought. 

“‘Sup, love birds.” His teasing voice made Connor shut up at once. Ona mumbled something and snuggled closer to Richard’s warmth. “I see she conked out.”

“Yeah, I think it’s time we get back home.” Connor looked at Ona, already asleep.

“I’ll get the car.” Richard was about to move to gently pick her up in his arms and go for his car keys, but Markus hand stopped him.

“Why don’t you just crash here for tonight? We got plenty of rooms and comfy beds besides the floor.” The three of them looked back at Simon. Richard waved his hand at Markus, as if dismissing his proposal.

“It’s okay, I can drive.” 

“How many drinks did you have tonight, Rich?” Markus raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms.

“Uuh… three?” Markus brow rose higher. “Okay no, four. No. Five. Yeah, five.” Richard frowned, staring at the floor, thinking. “You have a point.”

“I don’t doubt your driving skills for a moment. God knows that even with a bleeding wound and about to pass out you drive like a devil behind the wheel.” Richard chuckled, remembering the mess they had to escape and the actual mess on his car’s leather interior—and the bullet holes. “Just stay the night. You know you are safe here.”

“Thank you, Markus.” Connor took Markus’ hand as he helped him get up, while Richard managed to lift himself off the floor with Ona on his arms. 

They made it to the room, Markus disappearing to fetch them some pajamas while Connor gently woke Ona up so she could change and get ready to pass out again. Markus also brought water and painkillers for the morning, and North’s make-up remover with him, knowing how waking up like a trash panda wasn’t ideal. Markus let them rest, fist-bumping each twin and chuckling at Ona’s unintelligible words as she waved goodbye.

The house was quiet, the bed sheets soft and and fresh. Ona was already asleep again, curling closer into Richard’s chest as Connor spooned her from behind. 

The brothers had no nightmares that night.

[sapphicsaro]

morgan + anya, five years

@vicapuleti requested: “Morgan and I guess 5year old Anya ? You knew this one was coming 😍”

apparently i can’t write a fluffy story about two five year olds lol, so here’s some angst with hints of fluff about our two favorite ballerinas. feat. hints of bucky and sam!

-------

“How do you spell it?”

“N-A-T-A…S?”

“Mhmm.”

“S-H-A. Natasha?”

“Good,” Clint replied, both hands on the steering wheel of his truck, eyes on the road ahead.

“Next one, papa!”

“Let’s go back to Russian, okay? You want to be ready for later.”

“Okay,” Anya fiddled with her small bear, and glanced at her father. “Should I start?”

“Yes, pigeon, lemme hear it.”

“Okay, um…Самолёт построим сами (We build an airplane)…Uh, Понесёмся над лесами (We'll soar above the forests), Понесёмся над лесами (We'll soar above the forests)…Um…”

“А потом (And then)…”

“Oh yeah! А потом вернёмся к маме (And then we'll come back to mama)!”

Clint smiled, “Good job, pidgey.”

Anya giggled, “Are we almost there, papa?”

“Actually, we are,” He answered, pulling the truck into the long driveway of the cabin. “Are you excited?”

“Yeah, I miss Morgan.”

“I’m sure she missed you too, baby.” Clint got up to the oh-so familiar cabin, parking close to the entrance. He hopped out of the car, slamming the door shut, before heading to the rear passenger door to get Anya. When he opened the door, she had already unbuckled her seatbelt and was smiling at him widely.

“I did it all by myself, papa.”

Clint shook his head, “Oh my gosh, you’re practically an adult…” She giggled. “C’mon, sweetie,” He held his arms out and she reached for him, letting him pick her up and place her on the grass. He grabbed her tiny backpack from the back seat, and slammed the door behind him. “Ready?” he held his hand out to her.

She grabbed it tightly, “да (Yes)!”

Hand in hand, the daddy-daughter duo made their way up the porch steps to the front door of the cabin.

“Can I please ring the bell?”

Clint smiled at his little girl; her hair went from strawberry-blonde as a baby to a deep red like her mother’s. It was loosely braided as requested by her this morning. Her eyes were a soft green, and every time Clint sweared they were exactly like Natasha’s. Her outfit today was all picked out by herself and she had on a tiny gray jumpsuit with her favorite light up sneakers.

How could he ever say no to her cute little face?

“Go ahead, baby.”

She let go of his hand and went on her tiptoes, pressing the button to hear the ringing in the home. Anya went back to her father’s side, grabbing his hand again before the door opened.

“Is that little Anya?”

“Aunt Pepper!”

Pepper laughed, bending down so Anya could leap into her arms for a big hug. “I swear, I see you every couple months but you just keep growing!”

Anya, with her arms still around her aunt’s neck, giggled. “I grew one more inch!”

“Wow! You did? I’m so proud!” Pepper pulled away from Anya, pushing a loose strand behind her ear, “Well, little ballerina, Morgan is in her room…Think you can go up and say ‘hi’?”

Anya nodded excitingly, “Mhmm!”

Pepper stood up, releasing the five year old from her hands, “Okay, be careful on the stairs!”

Anya zoomed past and made it to the stairs, looking back at her aunt and father before carefully taking the stairs one at a time. How disciplined.

“Hi, Pepper,” Clint gave her a small hug, the glitter backpack still clenched in his hands.

“Hey, Clint. So glad you guys made it.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

——

Anya made her way to the bedroom down the hall, knocking softly on the door, “Morgan?”

The door flung open to reveal five year old Morgan Stark, dressed up in a flowy yellow dress covered in little daisies. Her short hair was pulled back with a matching headband and she had on white sandals to go with the floral ensemble.

“Anya!” Morgan jumped into the redhead’s arms, “Come here! I have to show you what I got!”

The two little ones went into the pink bedroom, where Morgan’s toys were all neatly tucked away. “Close your eyes!” Morgan said as she grabbed Anya’s hands and put them up to her face.

“Okay…” Anya wasn’t one for surprises. Maybe that was hereditary.

She heard some shuffling around before Morgan shouted, “Open!”

Anya placed her hands by here side, opening her eyes to see a frilly pink tutu in her friend’s hands. “Mommy signed me up for ballet! I’m going to be just like you!”

Anya smiled, “Really?”

Morgan nodded, “Yep! I’m still doing tap. But now, I’m in ballet too!”

“I can help you with the first steps so you can know them before you go to your first class!”

A soft knock at the door caught their attention. “Hey, ballerinas, we don’t want to be late. You got an hour to eat and finish up your cards,” Pepper said.

Morgan ran to her bookshelf, grabbing her box of crayons and construction paper, “I’m ready!” She ran past her mother out of her bedroom.

“Slow on the stairs, remember, Morgan?”

“Yes, mommy!” She took the stairs one by one, her tiny sandals clacking on the wood.

Anya didn’t move from her spot in the bedroom, instead her eyes stayed locked to a spot the ground. Pepper looked at her, she knew Anya was much quieter than Morgan, but something seemed off. “Honey, are you okay?”

The redhead shrugged, “Yeah.”

Pepper walked closer to her “niece” and knelt down in front of her. “What’s wrong?”

Anya chewed at her bottom lip, a trait she definitely inherited from her mother. “I’m just nervous.”

“There’s nothing to worry about, sweetheart. It’s going to be so nice today. I promise.” Anya nodded slowly, still looking down at the floor in front of her instead of at her aunt. “C’mon, I got a peanut butter sandwich with your name all over it.” Pepper held out her hand and Anya took it, smiling slightly, as they headed downstairs.

Clint was at the kitchen table, sitting across from Morgan who was excitingly telling him a story. “He did what?”

“Jackson pulled my hair! But I told the teacher on him and he couldn’t go to recess,” she told him, spreading out her colored paper and emptying her crayons. “Miranda said that he’s mean to me because he likes me, but I think that is dumb.”

Clint laughed, “It is dumb.”

“Is this the Jackson story, again?” Pepper asked, letting go of Anya’s hand and heading into the kitchen.

“Yes!”

Anya slowly walked over to her father, looking up at him with her big green eyes. Clint smiled, and bent down to give her a kiss, “You gonna make a card with Morgan?” Anya nodded, still hesitating. “Come here,” he picked her up and made his way over to the other side of the table, placing his daughter down in the chair next to the brunette. “What color card would you like to do?”

Anya thought for a second, “Red?”

“I’m doing red too!” Morgan shouted, holding up her paper.

Clint smiled, “Red’s a good color for them. Here, give me your paper and I’ll fold them.” The two girls obliged and he returned their sheets, ready for them to decorate.

The two sat and colored away, Morgan taking up most of the conversation while Anya sat quietly alongside her. Clint was throughly entertained, as was Pepper. After the loss of their spouses, an unlikely friendship formed between the two single parents. They both felt alone, overwhelmed, and broken after losing the love of their lives, and no one quite had a shared experience like the two of them.

Tony and Nat were much more similar than anyone would care to admit. They were both stubborn as hell, would risk their lives for a mission, and never heard the word ‘no’. Clint and Pepper had many similar qualities as well, as they were the more domesticated ones in the relationship.

When their loves died, the two felt alone.

But, at Tony’s funeral, little Anya Romanoff-Barton gave Morgan H. Stark a hug, telling her that “her daddy was up in the sky and was watching over her, just like mama was.” And the rest was history.

The two girls became inseparable, ultimately making Clint and Pepper closer, too.

So, every three months, one of the pairs would make a trip to visit the other. It helped keep the adults from cooping up in their home and never leaving, which was really easy to want to do after you lost your spouse. It also helped keep the Avengers family together, even though most of them were split apart to do their own things.

However, almost all of the Avengers made time for the girls. Clint couldn’t speak for Pepper, but he had someone over almost every other week, checking up on him and playing with Anya.

Last week, Sam and Bucky were in town, an unlikely pair to want to visit a five year old. But they immediately transformed into goofy uncles, playing tag and making Anya laugh with their failed attempts to copy her gymnastic moves. Anya would whisper to Bucky in Russian when Sam wasn’t looking and he would flashback to seeing young Natasha, except Anya was free from the confines of the Red Room.

The visits helped keep Clint from falling back into his depression. The dusted were brought back, but his wife could never return. After he would tuck Anya in every night, he would lay in his bed and begin to cry, as it felt empty without Natasha. He needed help. As did Pepper.

So here they are, reconvening again, two single parents of two little ballerinas.

Today was not like the other visits, though. Today was a year after the dusted returned, and Thanos was destroyed. This also meant it was a year since the loss of Tony and Nat.

It was a particularly difficult time for Pepper and Clint, but when you’re a parent, you have to find a way to get through the sadness to take care of your child. Both parents already had to do the difficult task of telling their child that their mom/dad had died, which was not a one time thing when your child was young. 

Anya would ask about her mother all the time, and it pained Clint to think about her, as he always flashed back to her hand slipping from his and her lifeless body at the bottom of the cliff.

But, his therapist told him to think of her smile first. Think of her smiling on the porch bench, baby Anya in her arms. Think of her smiling when they finished their mission in Lagos and flopped on the bed, laughing about how quickly they completed their assignment. Think of her smiling on their flight in space; how mesmerized she was by the universe around her. Think of that instead. Don’t think about what happened when they landed. No, remember her hands entwined in his while they laid in the hospital bed, eyes never leaving their teeny newborn sleeping in the plastic basinet.

That’s the Natasha he has to remember.

So when Anya asks about “mama”, he tells her about the good times, and how much she loved her “маленький (little one)”. He tells her about her bear, the first stuffed animal Natasha picked out for her baby because it reminded her of Budapest, where she saw the same one in the window of the village shops. He tells her about the arrow necklace, which she had left in her locked jewelry box, something Bruce had miraculously rescued after their building was ambushed. It was too big on Anya, but she still wore it every day, never taking it off.  

And for Natasha, he enrolled their child in ballet and gymnastics, and kept up her Russian lessons. Anya enjoyed them, always telling her dance teachers and gymnastics instructors that she was going to be just like her “mama”.

Clint hoped so. Clint hoped to god she would have her mother’s determination and heart. She already looked so much like her, why would she need anything from him? 

“Papa, can you please check my card?”

Anya handed him the folded construction paper, the outside decorated with a “⧗”. Clint traced his fingers over the symbol, memories of its owner flooding back to him. He swallowed the lump in his throat, opening the card to reveal a stick figure drawing of Anya and her mother holding hands.

Fuck.

“It’s beautiful, sweetheart.”

Anya smiled, “Can you check my spelling?”

Clint chuckled, “Of course, baby.”

And there it was was, scribbled across the red paper: “Dear mama”.

God. 

It broke his heart. His eyes welled with tears, but he continued reading:

Dear mama, I miss you! Papa does too. I wish I could see you, but papa says you’re in heaven. I hope you can see me from up there. I’m sending lots of hugs and kisses! Я люблю тебя (I love you), Anya

Sure, her handwriting wasn’t the best, but she had been practicing writing this card for the past couple of months and Clint thought it was the best thing he had ever seen. “It’s absolutely perfect.”

Anya smiled as Clint handed her the card back, and she finally took a bite out of her sandwich.

“Mommy, is mine good?” Morgan asked.

There were tears rolling down Pepper’s cheeks as she held her daughter’s card, a beautifully done Iron Man helmet on the outside with the inside containing another drawing (this one showed Morgan and Tony, each holding a cheeseburger), and a small note that ended with “I love you 3000!”

“It’s wonderful, sweetie. Daddy will love it,” Pepper said through her tears.

Clint checked his watch, “Uh, Pep, it’s 1:30, should we get going?”

“Shoot! C’mon girls! Anya, you can bring your sandwich in the car, Morgan, put the crayons away.”

The four of them made their way outside and into Pepper’s car, strapping each of their kids into a car seat. Clint offered to drive, and Pepper gladly took him up on it. 

The drive was lengthy, and the two adults were stuck with listening to Disney music on a loop. Morgan loudly sang her heart out, Pepper encouraging her fun, while Anya sat and listened, playing with her bear and checking her card over and over again. Clint swore he could see her mumbling her Russian poem under her breath, but he stayed focused on the road.

When they got there, the music turned off and Morgan calmed down. 

Seeing the graveyard made Anya curl up into her carseat. She hadn’t been here before. When her mother had her funeral, she was at Morgan’s cabin, where they did Uncle Tony’s service too. It was a shared funeral, and her father spoke about her mom, calling her “Natasha”. Anya was sad, missing her mama, but everyone around her tried to make her feel better, telling stories of “the Black Widow” and how awesome she was.

Anya missed her a lot. Anya missed hugging her mama. She missed seeing her come home from a mission really late at night to sneak her a kiss goodnight. She missed helping mama make dinner. She missed family movie night. She missed their secret midnight snacks, usually sneaking chocolates into their mouths before heading back to bed. She missed doing ballet and gymnastics with her. She missed everything.

When Anya met Morgan, it helped a lot.

Morgan talked about how much she missed her dad, and it was very similar to how Anya felt. They bonded quickly, and even though they only saw each other every three months for the past year, the two were inseparable. Morgan asked her mom if she could FaceTime Anya, and Pepper would let her, hearing the two girls giggle through the phone.

The graveyard, as eerie as it may seem, was very pretty.

Clint parked the car nearest to the headstones they were looking for. They were close to each other, with no one in between, and a constant amount of flowers laying by their names. Fans would visit regularly, thanking the two for saving the dusted, but Clint and Pepper made sure their family would be the only visitors right now.

“You ready girls?”

They both looked scared, sad, and uneasy.

Pepper took off her seatbelt, turning back to face the girls, “Hey, there’s no need to be worried. Nothing scary is here, it’s just us. We’re going to talk to your daddy and your mom, read them your pretty cards, and then spend some time here with them. We will be with you the entire time, okay?”

Anya nodded, while Morgan answered, “Okay mommy. Let’s go.”

The adults got out of the car, unbuckled their daughters, and grabbed their hands.

Clint and Anya went to the right, while Pepper and Morgan went to the left.

Morgan ran right up to the headstone coated in Iron Man memorabilia, and sat crossed-legged in front of it. Pepper knelt down, before taking a seat on the grass next to her daughter, who immediately began talking and showing off her card.

Anya wasn’t as excited as Morgan; in fact she was extremely worried. But, Clint knelt down, gave her a big kiss on the cheek and touched her arrow pendant. “When mama got nervous, she would play with that arrow right there. It was a reminder that I was always there with her, even I wasn’t physically there. Now, it’s a symbol of both of us. Mama is always with you, including right now. Don’t be scared, baby, it’s just us, your family.”

Anya nodded and slowly walked over to the headstone decorated with flowers, cards, and small notes. It wasn’t nearly as covered as Tony’s, but it definitely had more heartfelt notes written for the woman who gave her life for all of the dusted. She sat down, much like Morgan, and fiddled with her bear.

“Привет, мама (Hello, Mama).”

Clint sat down next to his little girl, turning to the headstone, “Hey, sweetheart.”

Anya looked at the headstone, “Natasha…”

“Remember, that’s mama’s name,” Clint said, resting a hand on his daughter’s back. “N-A-T-A-S-H-A.”

“I like it.”

“Me too,” he smiled back at her, giving her a small kiss on her head.

“I made you this, Mama. I drew us, and wrote you a little note. You can read it later though. Papa checked my spelling.” Clint let out a little laugh; Anya placed the homemade card on the headstone.

Anya turned to her father, “Can I talk to mama alone for a second?”

Clint nodded, “Of course, pigeon.” He stood up and walked back to the car, leaning against it as he watched his little one. He peeked a glance over at Pepper and Morgan, who were giggling and snuggling as they talked to Tony’s headstone.

Anya continued to play with the bear in her hands, unsure of what to say, before her eyes welled with tears and she said, “I miss you. I miss you a lot, mama. I don’t know why you had to go. Papa said you saved me, and Kate, and a lot of other people, but I want you back...Is that bad?”

Anya wiped a tear from her cheek, “I don’t know what heaven is like, but I hope you have a place to dance and do gymnastics. And there’s lots of chocolate.” 

She paused, “Mama, I remember the poem you would tell me before bed; Papa helped me. My Russian isn’t as good, but I’ll say it to you. I hope it helps you feel better up there, like how it helped me feel better before bed. Oh yeah! Here’s my bear too, you can hold him while I do it, okay, mama?”

She placed the bear gently on the headstone, next to the card, “Самолёт построим сами (We build an airplane), Понесёмся над лесами (We'll soar above the forests), Понесёмся над лесами (We'll soar above the forests). А потом вернёмся к маме (And then we'll come back to mama).”

Anya placed a hand on the headstone, “I love you, mama. I hope I can see you soon.”

——

author’s note: wow i’m an asshole, but who doesn’t love angst? also, pepper/clint is a friendship i love a lot, okay? plus, morgan and anya would be polar opposites, but they definitely would be best friends. let me know your thoughts about this heartbreaking chapter that i’ll probably go to hell for, along with your head canons about clint and pepper or morgan and anya (or even the other avengers visiting anya bc that's so cute tbh)

[treehugginglibrarian]

My Nana is Why I’m Like This

Writing about my Nana is hard, because our relationship was at times hard. I think anyone with an alcoholic or an addict in the family can relate to that. I learned a fair many lessons from her over the years, all of them useful even if not all of them were lessons that were learned in an enjoyable manner. That said, lessons are not what I want to think about just yet. Yes, she was flawed. When she was in a good place, though, and at her best, she was a truly wonderful human. For now, at least, for the few minutes it takes to write each of these pieces, I’m going to let myself pretend that this lovely person is all that ever existed of my Nana. To that, I offer some of her more poignant, thoughtful, or generally amusing moments.

Blankie

When I was a baby, basically everyone in my life lived in Massachusetts, as did I. My Nana lived in a nice house in Richmond with her husband at the time. Whenever we would visit, my mother would put a blanket down on the couch so as to ensure that if I puked, or drooled, or spit up, or just did baby-things in my sleep, my Nana’s couch would be safe. Apparently, after so many months of this, I eventually decided the blanket I was laying on was “mine.”

My mother found this out when she tucked it into a closet after we got home one evening, and I started to cry. She opened the closet and I stopped. Close: Cry. Open: Stop. When she walked me into the closet, I apparently pulled the blanket in question off the shelf, stuck my thumb in my mouth, and settled down. I had a blankie. While this was fine for sleeping and such, my mother was a little concerned. Not because blankets are inherently bad, as even back then there were psychological studies showing that children with comfort toys were actually better adjusted than those without. No, she was worried about more practical matters. Such as laundry day. Or if the damned thing should happen to go missing.

Enter my Nana, to save the day.

My Nana had not found the “original” blankie, but she was who found the “spare” that, excepting the overall color, was exactly identical to the one I used every night. So it was that on most days and nights I could be found dragging around a pink and white gingham and flower print blankie, as though it was a fifth limb. On occasion, however, this blanket would be replaced with one that was yellow. So that the pink one could get washed. Until, at the age of 13 or so, an age at which most normal humans would have long since stopped carting a blanket anywhere, I did something crazy: I retired the pink blankie. Torn to bits and more patchwork than blanket, it was time.

My yellow blanket took over, full time, moving into the task like the champ that it was. Sporting little more wear or tear than a grey foot print from a porch painting incident, this blanket has incidentally been a fair many places with me. It went away to college with me. It moved to Israel with me. It deployed to Iraq with me. It is the blanket I have cried into over failed relationships, fucked up friendships, and fights with my mom. And, yes, it was the blanket I sobbed into when I fully realized that I was never going to see my Nana again.

As for how this came to be… My mother watched a young boy have his comfort object taken away when it was done to one of her babysitting charges. She swore that, even if his parents didn’t realize it, he was never completely the same. Comfort objects are constants. Present when distance, disagreements, or death separate us from the people who matter most. She swore then and there, well before she’d ever read any research reinforcing her opinion, that she would never do that to her child. Which is how I was a 24-year-old Army Officer who ended up taking a blanket to Iraq with me. It’s also probably why I have a stuffed cow that’s been to more countries than most humans I know.

Shirley Temples

I have an absurd fondness for Shirley Temples. That’s not a typo in which I pluralized a child actress, nor is it a reference to a rather fun tap dance step. No, it’s a reference to a non-alcoholic mixed drink typically made with Sprite or 7-Up, grenadine, and cherries. Mind you, I don’t much care for Sprite, 7-Up, or maraschino cherries on their own. But mixed with grenadine and presented to me on a special occasion, my brain is convinced it is the best thing ever.

This is completely my Nana’s fault.

As a child, I was fascinated by the glasses that my Nana’s drinks came in. I was disinterested in the drinks themselves, as they smelled funny, but I liked the glasses. They were so fancy and grown up, and everything you said seemed more important if you were holding one. To that end, my Nana took to ordering me a Shirley Temple in a martini glass whenever we were out for a special occasion, that way I could feel important and profound just like the grown ups.

It didn’t take long for special occasions with my Nana to translate into special occasions of all sorts, and for the glass shape to stop mattering quite so much. As I got older, Shirley Temples became my go-to drink if I was out with friends, out for a celebration, or at a wedding, and I knew I should’t be drinking alcohol. Yes, yes, I have been introduced to the “Dirty Shirley” and, while I find the drink amusing, I prefer wine, whiskey, or bourbon if I want actual alcohol.

At a bar after a car accident a few years ago, I asked the bartender if he could make me a Shirley Temple (I was on concussion protocol, no alcohol for at least two weeks), and he found the request so endearing he refused to charge me for it. And, no, he actually wasn’t hitting on me. When I asked him how much it was, his response was, “No charge. That’s the cutest drink I’ve made in weeks. The chance to be a kid at work doesn’t have a price tag attached.”  

Courtesy of my Nana’s desire to include me when I was a small child, a simple drink now has dozens of happy memories attached to it and has become a tradition so ingrained that I genuinely cannot think of the word “celebration” without thinking of Shirley Temples. Someday, when my nieces or nephews get married, I’m gonna be that eccentric 50-some-year old woman sitting there with my rainbow hair and my excessive glitter, sipping a bright pink drink.

My Nana would approve.

Scotland

When I was nearly 7, my Nana whisked me away on a near empty flight to a beautiful land of greenery, castles, and grey skies, so we could celebrate my birthday. It was October, so the British Isles weren’t exactly a cheery place to be. It was of no matter to me, though. Every part of the trip, from the passport to the money to the fact that my Scottish great aunt and uncle did not understand the purpose of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, was fascinating to my tiny little brain.

From the moment we landed, I found the “strangeness” of Scotland to be intensely intriguing. I was amused by the fact that my great uncle’s car had the steering wheel on the “wrong” side. I was baffled by the idea that buildings as old as the castles we toured could possibly be standing still. I was mesmerized by the sheer amount of red hair, something I almost never saw back home unless I was looking in a mirror or looking at my mom.

My great aunt Nan was in the beginning stages of what would eventually become dementia, which meant I was eternally referred to as Tammy (my mom’s nickname) and often asked about memories of a childhood I hadn’t lived. I eventually stopped correcting her and, instead, goaded her into telling me about these memories. It’s a sneaky way to learn about your mother’s childhood that only a child can cheekily get away with!

On my birthday, she made me a giant fluffy cake that was covered in bright pink, strawberry icing, and put zero limitations on how much of it I could eat. There was always tea, always, which went a long way towards explaining how my mother had ended up passionately obsessed with the stuff. Presented to me with honey and cream in it, I came home with a new appreciation for my mother’s preferred beverage.

At a tea shop, having no idea what any of the desserts or cakes were, I asked the person taking our order to bring me their favorite. Thus, at the age of 7, I was introduced to scones. Which I described as “cookie biscuits,” because they were too fluffy to be one and too sweet to be the other. I still enjoy them immensely, but only with tea, and I still think they’re technically “cookie biscuits.”

My Nana taught me at a young age that it was not only okay to be curious about the things you didn’t understand, it was okay to go explore them. To ask questions. To try new things. Nearly 30 years after this first adventure overseas, I still travel in much the same way. With a curiosity that is intent on learning about the country and the culture I’m momentarily immersing myself in, a desire to find out what the locals like best, and a fondness for trying all of the hot beverages and desserts humanly possible while there.  

Glow-in-the-Dark

Me: Nana, do you remember that time Aunt Anita asked me about blowjobs? Nana: *snort of laughter* Yes, of course I do. You were 14 and you were mortified.

This recollection, gifted to a darkened bedroom in my step-great-grandmother’s house in Montauk, called to mind an event two year’s prior. While visiting relatives in Cape Cod, my great Aunt Anita had asked me if I put condoms on men before giving them blowjobs. Before anyone freaks out, she was on the older side, had never met me before, and probably had no idea that I was only 14 at the time.

My mother was somewhere between mortified, furious, and amused. My Nana laughed and explained that, as her granddaughter was only 14, it was actually pretty unlikely I had given all that many blowjobs in my life. My great aunt looked at me expectantly  and, when I nodded the affirmation that my Nana was correct, she sighed and patted my hip. “Child,” she said, “don’t make them wear them.” She raised a finger in the air to emphasize her next point, “it’s not about them, mind you. It’s just that the only thing that tastes worse than a dick, is lubricated latex.”

The more you know, I suppose.

(It is worth noting that I have no idea how this conversation started. I walked downstairs for a glass of water and simply found myself being asked about blowjobs. I like to imagine my great aunt would be entertained to know I’ve given up on dicks entirely.)

Anyway, lying in the dark in Montauk two years later, still having never given a blowjob, I offered my Nana this tidbit: I found out they make flavored condoms. That would solve Aunt Anita’s problem! Nana: *hilarious laughter* I’ll be sure to tell her that the next time I talk to her! Me: They also make glow-in-the-dark ones. Though I feel like that would be a little too much like turning a penis into a lightsaber. Nana: *contemplative silence* Sweetheart, if you need it to glow in the dark, you need more than just a condom I think.

I offer no wisdom or insight gleaned from this exchange. I know only that for years to come afterwards, if either of us noticed something truly absurd while out and about together, we’d point at it and just mutter “look, a glow-in-the-dark condom,” and the other would know exactly what we meant.

Charming the ROTC

“We’re going to Daytona Beach. You should come. We’re gonna stop in Fort Meyers so George can see her great aunt or something.”

So began my spring break trip my sophomore year of college. The only year that I went on what most would consider a “typical” spring break trip, as the two years after that I traveled via the geography department on my campus. Since my Nana lived quite close to Fort Meyers, we figured it only appropriate to stop in and say ‘hi’ to her while we were in the area. Which is how she ended up with 8 or 10 ROTC cadets showing up on her doorstep crazy early in the morning on an April day.

We had set out quite early the day prior intending to drive all the way through. The end state was that we ended up arriving at like 6am or something. Blessedly my Nana was still an early riser, so she welcomed us all in and got us settled with showers and naps. She stuck around much of the afternoon, keeping us company while we splashed in the pool, getting to know the boy I was dating at the time, and peppering my college friends with questions about pretty much anything she wanted.

They were wholly charmed, with at least one of them threatening to steal her away and make her an honest woman. Again.

Come evening, not wanting to witness the debauchery or “get in the way,” she headed a couple doors down to stay with a friend. She’d pointed us in the direction of the wine bottles and the glasses, asking only that we not ransack the expensive stuff, and making a remark about the cleaner being in the day after tomorrow.

I’m not certain what she’d expected to find when she came back the next day, early afternoon, but I don’t think a nearly spotless apartment was it. I had awoken to one of my friends vacuuming. Someone else was scrubbing a bathroom. A third person was unloading a dishwasher that I’d drunkenly loaded and run the night prior. I began stripping beds and doing laundry. By noon or so that day, when she came back over intending to say goodbye as we made our way a touch up the coast to George’s great aunt, the apartment was cleaner than when we’d gotten there.

Naturally, my Army buddies were welcome to come back to visit her any time they wanted. Though O’Dell did get warned that if he asked her to marry him again she was probably going to say yes and that would make things super awkward for me!

I think we’d all have been that polite and respectful of anyone we were visiting. I also think that my Nana made it easier, though, just by being herself. She was the type of person you wanted to be good to. Exuberant from the moment we walked in the door, ever the charmer, ever the entertainer, and wanting only for everyone around her to have fun. It was a simple task to want to repay that kind of energy, even if only in the form of a super clean apartment.

Swimming with Dolphins

Have you ever gotten sun poisoning?

No? You’re a sane and normal human for whom sunscreen is sufficient protection against the big orange ball in the sky? Fuck you and your melanin, I hate you both.

I have gotten sun poisoning.

In Key West.

When my Nana took me to swim with the dolphins.

Stop laughing, I’m not fucking joking!

The day started out fantastic. Obviously. There were dolphins! Does any day that starts with dolphins start out badly? No. Of course not. As I was with my over-protective Nana, I was slathered in SPF five million. Apparently that was no match for the Florida sun in open water, though. Around 3am the next morning I woke up to projectile vomit basically everything I’d consumed after my dolphin adventure. This continued. And continued. And continued. Until, around 7am, it was decided I needed a doctor.

There was basically no one in the waiting room at the hospital in Key West. Despite this fact, after waiting for over an hour, we left. Unsurprisingly, we actually had much better luck at a local family doctor who, despite having a waiting room full of people, was able to see me within 30 minutes or so. He prescribed a suppository which my Nana took me to pick up at a local pharmacy, and then I got to have happy fun times trying to shove drugs up my ass.

By late afternoon the puking had mostly subsided. My Nana had ordered Chinese food as she knew doing so would afford her the ability to order me way too much rice, which I ate tentatively but gratefully. We then got dressed in something resembling normal clothes and decided to salvage the afternoon with a trip down to the shore/board walk/shopping area. At some point I puked in a trash can. At another point my Nana convinced me a popsicle would probably be a good idea since I really needed electrolytes. At one point we walked past a jeweler that was selling gemstone globes and I lamented the fact that I was not feeling well enough to go in and look properly.

As the sun set, we found ourselves sitting on a bench watching buskers, my Nana eating some sort of street food and me eating soup of some sort, having managed to almost salvage 60% of our last day in Key West. I apologized for having ruined our weekend and my Nana kissed my cheek and told me any weekend with me would never be ruined.  

The next morning, I felt almost right as rain, though insanely hungry. So we went back down to the shops and such and got pancakes and french toast and all those other things that are delicious but terrible for upset tummies. She then detoured us passed the jewelry store, where we ducked inside and I bought my first gemstone globe. An expense I couldn’t afford, but that I’m insanely grateful I spent the money on. I love that sparkly orb so very much!

Half-way across the bridge back to the mainland, the flashing lights of an annoyed police officer showed up in the rearview mirror. When he walked up to the car and realized the young one was the passenger, I couldn’t tell if he was amused or miffed.

“I’m so sorry, Officer,” I said, leaning across my Nana and smiling as big as I could. “She brought me down here to swim with the dolphins, and wouldn’t you know I got sick and spent yesterday in the hospital. She’s just trying to get me home to a familiar bed and some soup. We’ll slow down.”

The Officer studied me for a minute before telling me to feel better, and letting us off with a warning.

“Out,” I said, pointing out of the car, as soon as he’d driven away. “You cannot be trusted with the keys, out!”

My Nana looked sheepish as we switched sides and I got us back to Naples, sans accidents or speeding tickets.

A month later, I called my Nana laughing hysterically. “They billed me,” I said, unable to control myself. “They billed me as though I saw a doctor. 1800 dollars! They billed me at the hospital.”

My Nana gasped, “They charged you that much to check your fucking blood pressure? You called and yelled at them, right?”

“Of course I did,” I said. “I told them they couldn’t have my money until they treated me, and they voided the bill. But still,” I sighed, still chuckling, “they fucking billed me.”

The family doctor that actually treated me? Still don’t know what I owe him. Either he figured out how to bill Tricare, or he decided an Army Officer puking her brains out was on the house. My guts thank him, either way.

Surprise!

In what had to be the strangest quirk about my Nana, she was probably the only grandmother I know of who didn’t like it when her grandchildren came to stay with her. Admittedly, she didn’t seem to like it all that much when anyone came to stay with her. Everything about our visits stressed her out. Having to plan for our arrival stressed her out. Feeling like she had to entertain us stressed her out. Having us interrupt her perfectly ordered living environment stressed her out. It wasn’t uncommon to feel like you were being shoved out the door by the time a visit was over because, in all honesty, you probably were.

This was helped immeasurably when my Uncle got his own place about 30 minutes from my Nana. Unlike her, he is not an overly ordered individual who likes his living arrangement “just so” and feels compelled to plan for someone’s visit. He really doesn’t care who’s there or not, he’s probably doing his thing no matter what. I started staying with him when I would visit my Nana, eliminating the major stressor of “human interrupting stable environment.”

I eliminated her compulsion to plan for my visit by simply showing up. Unannounced. Like a next door neighbor asking for sugar or milk.

The first time I did this I hadn’t seen my Nana in over a year or so. The visit prior had been… unpleasant… and I had needed some space to recover and recoup. My Nana, though one of my favorite humans, was an alcoholic. This meant visits, or parts of them, could occasionally be volatile. Initially, I had planned to go to Florida just to see my Uncle. He said he’d feel awful if he saw me and my Nana didn’t, though, and insisted I at least see her while I was down. I agreed, but only under the condition that he didn’t tell her I was coming. I didn’t want any of the nonsense and fuss that often led to her stressing herself sick (read: drunk) and, ultimately, wishing none of us were there.

So it was that on a warm February evening I arrived for a “condo  complex party” at my Nana’s, and tappity-tapped on her lanai door  while calling in a sing-song voice, “Nana, Nana, I’m coming in. I want a hug! And some wine!”

To say she was shocked to see me would be the understatement of the century. I was slightly worried I’d induced a heart attack at first. Shortly after the shock, however, came sheer and unadulterated delight. Possibly the first time I’d seen her be that delighted to see me since I was in high school. Five minutes later, when her friend Cornel arrived and I opened the door he went through the same series of emotions before saying, accusingly, “Ruth! You didn’t tell me Lyndsey was coming to town.”

“Well, I didn’t know!” she said, laughing. “She just showed up on my lanai, saying she wanted a hug and a glass of wine. Isn’t it the greatest surprise ever!”

I stayed with my Uncle the entire visit, and every visit thereafter, allowing her to keep her space as she liked it. We’d go to lunch, go to the zoo, go to the botanical garden, and sip coffee after my long bike rides. I had cracked the code. I had figured out how to visit my Nana, without stressing her out. Because she wasn’t stressed out, she didn’t get snippy or testy or nasty. On the occasion she drank too much alcohol, she mostly laughed a lot or talked about how much she loved us, rather than getting mean.

In the years that followed, I showed up at restaurants to surprise her, showed up at her boyfriend’s condo during a party, and walked into her place in the middle of the afternoon, wearing my swimsuit, to demand she come float on pool noodles with me. It wasn’t unusual for everyone in her social circle to know I was coming, except for her. After all, I had to plan to see them while I was down there, and I couldn’t do that if I didn’t tell them when I’d be in town! Everyone loved the joy she took out of my “just showing up” so much, though, that it was the general habit not to tell her.

The pandemic killed my ability to surprise her, because everything had to be so meticulously planned. Which is why, the last visit I made without my mother, I brought my wife as the surprise. My Uncle knew Lesia was coming with me, but my Nana did not. She was delighted, particularly since she’d picked up an obsession with puzzles and Lesia happens to be very good at them. We’d drive down in the evenings after work, have dinner with her, and Lesia and she would puzzle for a while as I scratched my head and glared at a singular piece with no intention of finding its home.

Of all of my visits, that very first surprise one will reign forever as my favorite one ever made. The look of delight on her face as I came into her living room demanding a hug, the sheer glee with which she told all of her neighbors, “This is my granddaughter. She came all the way from Ohio without telling me. She gave me herself as a surprise! Isn’t it wonderful!” was all the evidence one could ever need of just how much she loved me. 

(Even if she didn’t want me sleeping under the same roof as her!)

Wheel Chairs at Zoos

In 2018, my Nana made the last trip to my parents’ house that she would make in her lifetime. It was a trip that was made largely on accident. A year or so prior, we had all decided my Nana needed to get the hell out of dodge before Irene hit, since it looked like that bitch was going to make a bee-line for Naples. Though her condo was generally unscathed, Irene did hit Naples harder than most hurricanes, flooding entire regions of the city and uprooting hundreds of trees. My Nana rode it out with her boyfriend, at his summer place in Maine.

My mother had booked the ticket and had borne the brunt of the airlines’ desire to make big bucks by gouging the shit out of every purchaser trying to get out of the region before the storm hit. They then got harshly reprimanded by the federal government for that bullshit, and found themselves gifting basically anyone who had paid more than they should have with a free plane ticket. My Nana used it to visit my parents. Who tucked her into a car for the two hour drive to Cleveland so that she could see her granddaughter’s house.

My Nana had lived independently for basically forever. She was divorced before it was acceptable to be such and while she remarried a couple times, I don’t know that she ever took any of them all that seriously. Because of the era, there were certain things she’d simply been unable to do. Like buy her own car. Or buy a house. Or have a fucking credit card. So to her, the fact that I owned my own car AND my own house was a remarkable feat signifying how far we had come since she was my age.

Humorously, she ended up visiting us the weekend that our basement flooded, which meant she got to see what the worst parts of homeownership are like. It also meant that simply hanging out at our house wasn’t really an option, since the fans in the basement were so loud it made it difficult to think. As we’d had a hunch we’d want to do something, anyway, we settled on the zoo. It was an idea that made my Nana nervous, as she wasn’t sure she’d be able to walk the entire thing, but Lesia and I were unconcerned.

For $20 bucks, we rented a wheelchair, plopped my Nana in it, and promptly ran around the place like we were little kids pushing a shopping cart. We got running starts to go up hills, popped wheelies on stairs, and shrieked “weeeeeeee!” as we raced down ramps. My Nana was thoroughly delighted, my brother was both amused and embarrassed, and my mom was just happy her mom was smiling ear to ear the entire day. I think my father is now concerned this is how we’re going to treat him in his old age. He’s right to be concerned, we absolutely are.

Two years later, visiting her at her place during a global pandemic in which she had not left her condo in six months, I suggested that she, myself, and Lesia go to the local zoo. I had already looked it up, and we could rent a wheelchair for her so she wouldn’t have to worry about walking. There were a couple different animal shows we could see while we were there and everything. Wouldn’t it be nice to get out of the house for a bit?

“Are you going to say ‘weeeeee!’ when we go down the hills?” she asked, with a mischievous grin. 

Indeed, we did.

Pink Wine Glasses

“It’s pink!”

Such was my squeal of delight when, after an exceptionally long workday, my Nana proffered a glass of white wine in a piece of stemware that was, indeed, pink. Though I’m weirdly neutral on pink clothing, I’m a huge fan of random things that shouldn’t be pink, being pink. Pink wine glasses are basically the most perfect wine glasses ever.

To that end, I was delighted when she said, “Oh good, you like them? Take them with you when you go home!”

Which I did. On my very last trip to my Nana’s condo, she packed up those pink wine glasses and made sure they made it into the car with me. I gave her a hug, and told her I loved her, and thanked her for my pink stemware. Two days later, before meeting her and some friends for dinner, my mother and I began the arduous task of packing a months worth of stuff and those wine glasses got lovingly wrapped in t-shirts, underwear, socks, and pajamas. All four made the journey home in one piece.

There isn’t really much of a story to tell here, except that the very last gift that my Nana personally gave me were pink wine glasses. Glasses that I will cherish forever. Glasses that I will use as often as I can, because every time I use them I think of her. Glasses that make everything you drink look just a little pinker. Just a little brighter. Just a little happier.

It was a fitting final present, I think, as my Nana often strove to make my life a little brighter and a little happier. Now, each time I sip her favorite drink, I can capture some of that lightness, courtesy of a gleefully pink piece of stemware.