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theladyofdeath · 4 years ago

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The Return 2 {The Arrival, Part 2}

Summary: Back at the lake house, ten years later… Collaboration with @snelbz - part 2 to the sequel!

Word Count: 7136

The Arrival Series Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

Even ten years later, Elain was still the first one awake whenever they took family vacations. She had woken up with the sun, tried — and failed, miserably — to rouse Azriel from sleep, read her devotions, gotten in some yoga, and started on breakfast, all before she heard the first footstep from anywhere in the house. But soon enough, she heard slow, sleepy steps on the stairs, though they headed towards the back of the house rather than towards the kitchen.

Ruling out Lannan and his voracious appetite, along with Thorn, Bennett, and John, Elain waited, mixing up the pancake batter after she put a large pan of bacon into the oven.

A few minutes later, Scarlett appeared, dragging a still half-asleep Cassian by the hand. He was yawning and had a hair brush, comb and two hair ties in his hand.

“Good morning, you two,” she laughed, pouring Cassian a cup of coffee, which he looked like he desperately needed.

He mumbled something that sounded like a typical morning greeting, while Scarlett gave her a sleepy smile after climbing up onto one of the barstools. “G’morning, Aunt Lainey. Are we having pancakes for breakfast?”

“And bacon,” she replied, smiling at her youngest niece. Layla and Scarlett had sleepovers all the time, being the two youngest and close in age.

Scarlett grinned and turned to Cassian. “Remember, I want two braids, daddy, not just one.”

He nodded, still drinking his coffee, but handed her the brush to start detangling her long, waist-length hair.

“Nesta not up yet?” Elain chuckled, pouring some of the batter into the hot pan.

“I like it better when daddy braids my hair. Mommy makes it too fancy,” Scarlett replied, scrunching up her nose.

“That’s right,” Cassian mumbled, running his fingers through his youngest’s hair. “Dad keeps the braids messy.”

Elain laughed quietly as she continued to make breakfast. “Well, if you have the magic touch, I may make you braid Layla’s hair. She always complains when I do it, and the art of braiding isn’t exactly one of Azriel’s many talents.”

“We don’t need to hear about Azriel’s many talents,” Cassian warned.

Elain jabbed him in the ribs, which only made Cassian laugh as he began to braid his daughter's hair.

“Is Thorn going back to jail today?” Scarlett asked.

Cassian sighed, Scarlett wincing as he made sure his braid was tight. “No, Thorn’s not going back to jail, ever.”

The ten-year-old rolled her eyes. “Never say never, daddy.”

Elain chuckled as she set a giant mountain of pancakes on the island. “Give your brother a break. He’s a good boy.”

“No, he’s not,” Scarlett said, earning a snap from Cassian for her to stay still while he worked. “He swears too much and he smells yucky.”

“All teenage boys swear too much and smell yucky,” Cassian promised. “Just wait until you’re a teenager and you like those yucky boys.”

“I’m not ever going to like boys,” Scarlett promised. “I’m going to stay single and awesome forever.”

Elain shook her head, humored, as she watched her niece.

“That would make daddy very happy and I’m holding you to it,” he replied, tying the elastic around the end of the braid and starting on the second.

“Aunt Lainey, does Luna like smelly teenage boys?” Scarlett asked, looking up at her.

Luna was Scarlett’s idol. Everything the girl did, the younger one was right behind, whether it was a trend, style or even just following her around. And Luna handled it well, for a sixteen-year-old girl. She never complained, even when her own baby sister was in tow. Cassian was sure that because she was a carbon-copy of Elain, right down to the soft, caramel colored eyes.

Elain smirked as she set a plate down in front of Scarlett, a small stack of pancakes on top of it. She pulled the bacon out of the oven before replying. “Oh, she does. And Uncle Az is not happy about it.”

“Isn’t happy about what?” The man in question asked as he rounded the corner, heading straight for the coffee pot. He paused to kiss Elain’s cheek. “Morning, beautiful.”

“Luna Bug’s boyfriend,” Cassian smirked, watching as Azriel’s good mood deflated.

“We don’t talk about him,” Azriel said, quietly, as he filled his mug. “And definitely not this early in the morning.”

“He has a name,” Elain said, simply. “And you should call him by it.”

“The name I have for him shouldn’t be said around Scar,” Azriel said, pausing as he passed her to kiss the top of his niece’s head.

“He’s a good kid,” Elain said, rolling her eyes. “And I think Luna and Lachlan are good for each other.”

“Lachlan,” Scarlett repeated. “I like that name.”

Cassian’s grin only widened as he looked up at Azriel, who sat at the table, sipping from his mug.

“Just wait until she thinks she’s old enough to date,” Azriel said, gesturing to Scarlett.

“Oh no,” Cassian said, shaking his head. “She’s already informed me that she’s staying single and awesome forever, so.”

Azriel snorted as the twins came into the room, followed by John, whose hair was sticking up in every which direction.

“Mom says she’s taking a shower then she’ll be out to help make breakfast,” John said, yawning as he flicked Olive on the back of the ear. She flipped him off, which earned a gasp from Scarlett and a laugh from Cassian.

“No need, your Aunt has been up since the crack of dawn,” Azriel said, nodding toward the food. “Eat up.”

John didn’t need to be told twice. At fourteen, he was eating more than nearly everyone else - followed closely by his older boy cousins, who were, no doubt, still sound asleep.

Lily was still mortified by her new haircut, but thanks to a French braid of some sort, it could barely be noticed. She and Olive got a couple of pancakes each and talked to each other quietly.

Once Scarlett’s hair was finished, Cassian got his own breakfast, splashing a bit of whiskey into Azriel’s coffee and his own when he thought no one was looking, and sat down at the table. Mid bite, his chewing slowed down as he looked at Olive. “Liv, I think you still have makeup from yesterday on. You’ll probably want to get that off before we go on the boat.”

She rolled her dark, lined eyes. “It’s Olive, Uncle Cass, and it’s waterproof eyeliner. I’ll be fine.”

Lily, fresh faced, shook her head. “She’s too cool to be seen without her makeup anymore.”

Elain was chuckling at the stove as the two girls quietly bickered and Cassian was immediately grateful he only had one daughter.

“What’re we doing today?” John asked, his mouth full.

“Ask when your mouth isn’t full and I’ll tell you,” Cassian said, sitting next to his middle child.

“Yeah, John, have some manners.” Thorn entered the room, grumpy as hell, the first thing out of his mouth directed at his younger brother.

“Says the asshole that spent yesterday in jail,” John muttered, mouth still full.

“Watch your mouth,” Cassian snapped, his mouth also full.

Azriel just shook his head, watching the three of them. He looked at Scarlett. “How do you and your mom handle those three?”

Scarlett shrugged as she hopped off her stool. With a piece of bacon in each hand, she said, “We stick together. Girl power.”

Elain laughed, winking at her niece as she fled from the room.

Layla appeared a minute later, on Rhysand’s back, wide-eyed and chipper. Bennett was soon behind, and Cassian snorted.

“How is it that the kids from your side are the ones still asleep when Elain is one of the first ones up?” he asked, looking at Azriel.

“Luna’s probably awake and talking to-.”

“If you say his name again, I’ll lose my appetite, then my mood will be destroyed for the rest of the day,” Azriel said, holding up his hand and looking at his wife.

“Lachlan is so sweet though,” Lily said, sighing, and Olive nodded, which earned them a look from both Rhys and Azriel.

“Teenage boys aren’t sweet,” Rhys told his daughters. “They’re crafty, lying, disgusting creatures.”

Lily and Olive looked at Thorn and Bennett, both shoveling food into their mouths. Their brother responded. “What?”

“Aren’t you going to say he’s wrong?” Olive asked, looking between them.

“No, because then I’d be lying and proving him right,” Bennett replied.

“And we’re pretty disgusting,” Thorn added, shoving an entire piece of bacon into his mouth in two bites. Bennett nodded and was getting up for seconds when Rhys stopped him.

“Save some food for your mothers, please,” he said. “After mom and Aunt Nesta eat, you can get more.”

Layla quietly approached Cassian and tapped on his shoulder, asking if he could braid her hair, too. He gave Elain a knowing look, but picked Layla up and set her in Scarlett’s vacated seat. “Only cause you’re the cutest one here,” he whispered, so only she could hear. She giggled and nodded, sitting still as he went to work.

Nesta and Feyre made their way into the kitchen soon after, with Azriel going to retrieve Lannan, who was still sleeping like the dead. Luna was the last to arrive, claiming she’d slept in, too.

“Y’all wanna make some sandwiches for the boat while we get everything ready to go?”

Cassian asked Nesta and his sister-in-laws.

“You don’t want to come back for lunch?” Nesta asked. “You want to keep nine kids on a boat all day?”

He shrugged. “They'll be swimming and wakeboarding and tubing. They’ll be busy. Plus Thorn and Bennett are taking out the jet skis.”

Thorn raised his hand.

Bennett gave him a high-five.

John frowned. “Why can’t I take one of the jet skis?”

“Because we’re older,” Thorn said, simply.

“That’s not fair,” John argued. “What kind of argument is that?”

“Thorn and Bennett are taking the jet-skis,” Cassian said, his voice holding no room for argument. “You can take one tomorrow.”

“Ooooh, me too,” Luna said. “I call one for tomorrow.”

Thorn rolled his eyes, the only sign that he was annoyed.

The second that Nesta and Feyre sat down with their breakfasts, Thorn, Bennett, and John were on their feet, fighting for what was left.

“Animals,” Lily scoffed, taking Olive by the elbow and leading her down the hall to their room to get ready.

Thirty minutes and almost just as many sandwiches later, everyone was loading onto the boat, save for Thorn and Bennett who took off towards the jet-skis as soon as they were given the okay. After strict instructions to stay within sight of the parents, they were firing them up and taking off, Cassian starting the boat and following behind.

Elain fell into the seat at the front with her oldest daughter, wrapping an arm around her as the wind whipped back their hair. “What’s Lachlan doing this weekend?”

Her knees were tucked under her chin and she looked out over the passing water. “He and his parents went to Orynth. They’re touring a college there, but he doesn’t want to be that far from home.”

“Far from home or far from you?” Elain asked, nudging her slightly.

Luna blushed. “Both.”

Lachlan was a year older than Luna, so college was much more prevalent on his mind, as a senior. Or it should have been, had Luna not already had her five-year-plan made, starting with attending the University of Velaris and ending with a degree in business and communications, an internship under her belt and an entry-level position in a company she could grow at.

“Sounds serious,” Elain said.

“Too serious,” Azriel muttered, and both of them turned around, unaware that Azriel was just on the other side. Elain lifted a brow. “What? She’s sixteen.”

“Exactly,” Luna said, crossing her arms. “I’m not a child anymore, dad.”

Azriel didn’t respond. He simply walked to the cooler, opened a beer, and sat next to Rhysand.

“Ignore him,” Elain said, her arm around Luna. “He’ll come around.”

“Doubtful,” Luna muttered.

“You’re the oldest girl in the family,” Feyre said, as she took the seat on her other side. “You finding a boyfriend is uncharted territory.”

“It’s just not fair,” she said, simply. “Thorn and Ben have had tons of girlfriends, since middle school, and no one has ever batted an eye. I get my first serious boyfriend, and dad…” She shook her head as she glanced at Azriel, who was sipping his beer with a rigid jaw. “It’s like I’m a criminal or something.”

“And you weren’t even the one in jail,” John muttered, gazing out over the water.

Cassian hit him upside the back of the head.

“Dad will come around,” Elain promised again.

“Maybe we should keep the boyfriend talk to a minimum,” Luna muttered. “At least for this weekend.”

“Why?” Feyre asked, propping her feet up in the empty second chair and giving her niece a comforting smile. “He’s going to have to get used to you dating eventually. And Lachlan is very sweet. You could’ve ended up with someone like your Uncle Cassian. He’ll get used to you having a boyfriend. I promise.”

Cassian brought the boat to a stop, effectively ending the conversation and started unloading the wakeboarding equipment.

“Can we ride tubes first, Uncle Cass?” Lily asked. “Tubing always gets saved for last and we never have much time thanks to you guys wakeboarding for hours.”

He was about to protest, even though he knew she was right, even with the unnecessary eye rolling, but Nesta said, “I think starting with tubing is a good idea. Let those two expend some of their energy before they board and try to do tricks they can’t accomplish. No trips to the hospital this year.”

The year before, there had been two trips to the hospital. One for Bennett, who’d gotten a concussion, and one for Cassian…who had thrown out his back, thanks to thinking he was still youthful enough to complete some of the tricks he had attempted.

He wasn’t.

This year, they were having none of that.

“Fine,” Cassian sighed. “Get out the tubes.”

The kids let out a round of excited yells, and up ahead, Bennett and Thorn were riding circles around each other.

Cassian, Rhysand, and Azriel took turns driving, seeing which of the kids they could throw off their tubes. Even Luna almost let out a curse - almost, but not quite.

Once they were done, everyone grabbed a sandwich as the wakeboarding began. Thorn was the first to go, which meant that John got his jetski, so everyone was happy.

At least until Thorn wiped out, then he was just pissed.

When everyone was worn out, Cassian brought the boat back to the dock, and one by one, everyone got off to slowly make their way back up to the house.

Rhysand was the last to get off, carrying a sleeping Layla up the hill. He laid his niece down in her bed before fighting everyone for one of the two showers.

“So what’s on the agenda for the rest of the day?” He asked as he stepped into the kitchen, fighting off a yawn.

Nesta was doing the same and Elain chuckled. “Seems like everyone could use some downtime. Why don’t we let the kids do their thing, take naps if they want, and we’ll start dinner around five-thirty?”

“A nap sounds awesome,” Nesta said, wrapping her arms around Cassian’s waist and laying her head on his chest. From the look on his face, he didn’t think she meant it literally. From the look on hers, she did.

And so everyone went their separate ways. Most of the kids ended up in the bonus room, either playing Xbox or entertaining themselves in someway. Ironically, only Luna and Lannan decided to lay down for naps, and Nesta, of course.

Elain’s alarm on her phone went off, letting her know it was five-thirty. She and Azriel had taken advantage of their alone time and were now just laying in bed together, although Azriel it seemed was half-asleep now that it was time to get up.

She looked up at him, eyes closed and lips parted and pressed a kiss to his cheek. He responded by rolling his head to the side, looking for her lips without opening his eyes. She kissed him again, but pulled away when his tongue brushed against her bottom lip.

Laughing softly, she got out of bed and started getting dressed. Azriel watched her with sleepy eyes. “I’m going to get Feyre so we can start making tacos. Will you get the kids up around six?”

He nodded, tucking an arm behind his head and closing his eyes again. She leaned down and pressed a kiss to the end of his nose. “Don’t fall asleep.”

“That’s asking a lot,” he replied, catching her before she could stand up, twining his fingers into her hair. “You wore me out.”

“Hush,” she said, blushing, and kissed him again before slipping out the door.

He heard a knock on a door down the hall and then Feyre’s voice joined Elain’s. The word daddy was unmistakable as they walked away and he couldn’t help but chuckle even as he blushed and covered his face with Elain’s pillow.

Once the smell of delicious food cooking started wagging towards their room, he decided it was time to get up, get dressed, and wake up his kids, knowing it’d be time to eat soon.

He stopped off in the boy’s room first, knowing Lannan would be the easiest to rouse. All he had to say was tacos, and his son was up and hurrying downstairs to help in any way he could, if it meant he could eat quicker.

Layla was still fast asleep in the room she and Scarlett shared, her braid messy from sleep. Getting her up was easy enough. She didn’t require bribery or any tricks, she liked to do as she was told. He just had to tell her that mama needed help in the kitchen and she slipped off to do what she could.

Luna’s room was at the end of the hall. She shared a room with the twins, but they were upstairs and already being told to go to the kitchen, which meant she surely was sound asleep.

Azriel didn’t bother knocking before he opened the door. “Hey, dinner’s-.”

“Fuck, Luna-.”

Luna dropped her phone and looked over her shoulder. Her eyes went wide in horror. “Dad!”

Azriel quickly shut the door, his hand remaining on the knob for a moment before he dropped it, and slowly walked down the hall, toward the kitchen.

He had not seen much, considering Luna had been under the blankets, but he knew enough about technology and the teenage mind to know exactly what had been going on.

Azriel was going to be sick.

He hadn’t even noticed the chatter going on in the kitchen as he entered.

Rhysand was in the middle of a sentence, even though Azriel had no idea what he had been saying, when Azriel said, “Elain, a word.”

The tone of his voice must’ve created alarm, because the room went quiet. Without noticing if Elain was following, Azriel walked into the living room.

He sat back on the couch, nausea brewing in the pit of his stomach.

Elain timidly entered a moment later. “You okay, babe? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Worse,” he said, without any hesitation. “So much worse.”

He quickly and concisely explained what he’d seen, which thankfully wasn’t much, but he knew. Oh, gods, he knew.

He heard the male voice on the other side of the video call, recognized it and hated it all the same, especially the way that voice had said his daughter’s name.

“Why didn’t you knock?” Elain asked, shaking her head as she rubbed at a spot between her eyes.

“I thought she’d be asleep!” He defended, throwing his hands up.

“She’s a teenage girl, Az,” she sighed. “Regardless, you should have knocked. She could have been changing.”

“I wish she would’ve been!” His cheeks were on fire. “That would’ve been better than…that.”

Elain stood. “I’ll go get her. Why don’t you and the boys go eat on the deck? Some fresh air might help.”

He nodded, but didn’t say anything.

“Do not be mad at her,” she added before leaving the room. “It’s not her fault you didn’t knock.”

“She shouldn’t be having video sex with her boyfriend while we’re on a family vacation,” he whispered, shooting to his feet.

“At least she didn’t get arrested having sex in the back of a truck. So this isn’t the worst thing that could have happened on this vacation,” Elain replied.

“No,” he said, heading towards the kitchen to get a plate of food. “It’s the worst thing that could have happened to me, period.”

Elain rolled her eyes, watching as Azriel stormed into the kitchen and out of sight.

Calmly, she walked down to the end of the hall and knocked on the last door.

She could hear Luna sniffling. “Yeah?”

“It’s mom,” Elain said, leaning against the door. “Can I come in?”

A second passed. “Yes.”

Elain opened the door to find Luna sitting up on her bed, wearing a hoodie and wrapped in a blanket, as if she couldn’t get enough clothes onto her body. Her eyes were red and puffy.

Elain sat on the edge of the bed and looked at her daughter. “Care to tell me your side of the story?”

Luna shook her head, then looked at her hands as she said, “We were just facetime-ing. It got...slightly intimate, nothing was even really going on, and then dad walked in.” Her face fell into her hands. “Too much was going on for him to walk in on, though, I’ll tell you that. I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life. I just hung up. Lachlan probably thinks that I just lost connection.”

Elain huffed through her nose. “Look, I don’t know exactly what your father saw, he couldn’t exactly get the words out-.”

“Me, topless, showing my boyfriend my boobs,” Luna supplied, her face still in her hands. “I mean, I was mostly under the blankets, but… I think he got the point.”

Elain had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing. Usually, she wouldn’t find things so funny, but this was Luna. Luna, who never did anything wrong. The fact that she was just like every other teenage girl, that she was just like Elain and her sisters at sixteen, was…almost refreshing.

She scooted closer and wrapped her arms around her daughter. “Your dad is having a hard time processing that his little girl isn’t so little anymore.”

“That’s an understatement,” she scoffed. “This is worse than my first period, first bra and first date combined.”

Elain couldn’t stop her chuckle again. “I think we’re probably gonna spend the rest of the evening separated. We’re gonna do our thing and the boys will do theirs. Are you hungry?”

Luna shrugged, fiddling with her phone case.

“You sure? Aunt Feyre and I made tacos.”

Looking up at her, eyes still puffy and blush still on her cheeks, Luna said, “I guess I could eat.”

“Good,” Elain said, kissing her forehead and taking her daughter’s face in her hands. “I know you’re a smart girl, and I know you care about Lachlan. But if and when things move past just showing him your boobs on FaceTime, promise me you’ll be careful.”

Luna’s cheeks were blood red again and she shook her head. “I haven’t… we haven’t… I’m still a virgin, mom.”

Elain stifled her laughter again. “I know you are, sweetie. All I’m asking is that whenever the time comes, promise me you’ll use that beautiful brain of yours and don’t let hormones get in the way. And when we get home, we can talk about birth control if you want to.”

Luna’s eyes went wide. “You’d…let me get on the pill? What about dad? He’d lose it if he found out.”

“If it means you’re being smart and safe, yes.” Elain smiled, and took her daughter’s hand. “And don’t worry about your father. I can handle him.”

“He’s awfully dramatic,” Luna mumbled. “He’s just passionate,” Elain said, correcting her. “Which means he loves as fiercely as he loses it.”

Luna chuckled, and nodded. “Let me text Lachlan about why I hung up so suddenly, then I’ll be out.”

Elain kissed Luna’s forehead before hopping off of the bed. “I’ll make you a plate of tacos.”

“Thanks, mom,” Luna said, as Elain walked out, and Elain knew it was for much more than the food.

As she walked back into the kitchen, all of the boys were out on the back porch, leaving the girls inside.

“We’re thinking about having a girls night,” Feyre said, as Elain approached. “Chick flicks, painting our nails, and mud masks?”

“I’m here for it,” Elain said. “Luna will be, too.”

Quietly, Feyre asked, “Is everything okay?”

“I’ll fill you in later,” Elain promised, and went to making Luna her plate of food. She came out a minute later, and cleared her entire plate in under five minutes.

When they were done, Legally Blonde was being set up in the living room, and Nesta was carrying out a basket of nail polish.

“Looks like the boys are going for a boat ride,” Nesta said, rolling her eyes. “Hopefully Cass isn’t driving. He can’t drive in the dark. I swear he needs glasses but he’s too stubborn to go get his eyes checked.”

“He’s in denial about getting old, Rhys was the same way,” Feyre sighed, searching through the basket for a color she liked. “But I finally convinced him to go a couple months back.

Now it’s like I have a sexy Clark Kent walking around my house in the evenings.”

“How’d you do that?” Elain asking, carrying wine glasses and a chilled bottle into the room.

The girls were all focused on the huge box of makeup Lily and Olive had brought down from the bonus room, sitting around it and begging Luna to do their makeup. Even Olive was willing to remove her thick eyeliner if it meant Luna would work her magic on her eyebrows.

“I can be very…persuasive,” she replied, filling her glass and taking a sip.

Nesta reached for the remote and turned the movie up to give their conversation a semblance of privacy, turning her attention to her sister. She whispered, “Spill.”

Feyre was blushing, clearly not expecting her sisters to jump on this particular topic. She settled back into the couch cushions and took a much larger drink of her wine. “I…let him go where no man has gone before.”

“What, like, Victoria’s Secret?” Elain asked, brow furrowed in confusion, but from the smirk on Nesta’s face, she knew exactly what Feyre meant.

“No, Lainey, not like Victoria’s Secret,” Nesta said, voice low enough that the kids couldn’t hear them over the movie. “She let him get in her ass.”

Elain blinked once and said, “Oh,” before going back to looking through the nail polish basket.

Feyre and Nesta looked at each other, before looking back at Elain.

Nesta whispered, “That was a very casual Oh.”

Shrugging, Elain glanced up at them, still looking through the basket. “That’s nothing new for us.”

Feyre’s brows shot up as Nesta leaned forward. “Okay, for the two quietest and most private in this family…you two have one hell of a sex life.”

Elain laughed, quietly, as she picked out a soft lavender nail polish. “What? We’ve always liked to keep each other…intrigued…in the bedroom.”

“And was daddy the one to introduce this…act?” Feyre asked, still dumbfounded.

Elain shrugged, falling back on the couch. “We thought we’d give it a try one day, and it was…nice.”

“Nice?” Nesta repeated.

“It’s not for everyone, but…yeah, it was nice,” Elain said. “Anyway, someone paint my right hand, please. My left is too shaky.”

Nesta did as her sister asked, even though Feyre was still staring at her, minutes later. It wasn’t until halfway through the movie, when Luna excused herself to walk into the kitchen, that Nesta excused herself to follow after.

When she walked into the kitchen, Luna was staring out the back door to where the boys were tossing a football around the campfire.

“You okay, Lunabug?” Nesta asked, referring to that old nickname from her childhood that they all still used.

Luna nodded. “Yeah, just…tired, I guess. I think I may head to bed early tonight.”

“I get that, it was a big day,” Nesta smiled, and hugged her eldest niece. “Don’t worry about your dad. I’m sure Uncle Cass and Uncle Rhys have been calming him down all night.”

“I know, I know,” Luna sighed, burying her face in her aunt’s shoulder. “How am I supposed to ever look him in the eye again though? He didn’t see anything, but he knew what was happening. It’s not hard to figure out.”

“You’re almost an adult, sweet girl,” Nesta said, tipping her chin back so she kept her head high. “Sooner or later, your dad is going to have to accept that.”

Luna nodded and hugged her aunt again. Nesta hugged her tighter and said, “How do you think I feel right now? My adult son got caught having sex in public yesterday.” She felt Luna laugh and pulled back to rest her hand against her cheek. “It could be worse. I’m sure you’re embarrassed, but this will pass, okay? Your dad is overbearing because he loves you.”

Luna’s smile was small, but Nesta could tell it was genuine. “I know. Thank you, Aunt Nes.”

“You’re welcome,” she smiled. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

With a goodnight, Luna was off to the room, Layla and Scarlett only a few minutes behind her. The twins, stubborn as always, said they weren’t tired, yet were asleep on the floor within ten minutes.

“Another drink, ladies?” Feyre asked, bringing out a new wine glass as she fell on the couch between her sisters.

“Please,” Elain begged, holding out her glass.

Nesta didn’t protest either as the three sisters finished the movie, drinking the night away.

“Fuck, the twins are only two years younger.”

Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel were lying in the grass, a beer in their hands, staring up at the stars as their boys swam in the water, the firelight the only thing allowing them any guidance.

“I just… I knew this day was coming,” Azriel said, his words slightly slurred. “I just… I don’t know. I wasn’t ready for it.”

“Can we ever be ready for it?” Cassian asked. “Boys…they’re easy. But, girls…” Cassian shook his head. “We’re never going to be ready for anything they put us through.”

“I want to find this kid… And-.”

“And what?” Rhysand asked, laughing as he cut off Azriel. “You act like you weren’t a teenager once.”

“I was,” Azriel confessed, then sighed. “But…that was me…this is…my daughter.”

“Have you met his parents yet?” Cassian asked, sitting up and bracing his elbows on his knees. “Once we met Marion’s parents, we felt way better. Mostly because we know Lorcan Salvaterre has the capability to kick Thorn’s ass, and Thorn does, too. But it also showed us Marion is a good girl. She comes from a good family, who loves and cares for her just as much as we do Thorn.”

“We’ve met his mom,” Azriel admitted, staring at stars still. “Or Lainey has, I haven’t. But she said she was sweet. Granted, she says Lachlan is sweet, too. She thinks everyone is sweet, cause she’s sweet.”

“You guys should try to all go to dinner when we get back to Velaris,” Cass suggested, finishing his beer. He tossed his empty can into the pile by the fire. “Meet his parents, get a vibe for them, shake the kid’s hand hard enough to leave an impression. I’m sure they love Luna, just like we love Marion.”

“Them loving Luna isn’t the point,” Azriel began, quietly. “Everyone loves Luna. The problem is…is that I was a teenage boy once, and I know exactly what this kid wants.”

“You also met Elain when you were a teenager,” Rhysand pointed out. “And, you started dating when you were teenagers. You’re telling me that the only reason you wanted to be with Elain was for sex?”

Azriel paused. Then answered, shortly, “No.”

“Then maybe this kid wants more than that, too,” Cassian said.

“But he wants the other thing, too,” Azriel protested, then groaned, flipping over until his face was buried in the grass.

“You can’t make her a nun,” Cassian said, Rhysand grinning on Azriel’s other side. “You can’t keep it from happening. Teach her to be safe, and she’ll be fine.”

Azriel’s voice was muffled by the ground. “Why are you being the reasonable one right now?”

“Because I’ve also been a teenage boy who loved a girl. Because I currently have a teenage boy who loves a girl, even if he makes stupid decisions with her sometimes,” he replied. “But I have to let him make those decisions on his own so he can learn. Luna is smart, Az. She’ll make good choices, you just have to let her make them.”

He grumbled something into the grass that his brothers couldn’t hear and Rhysand ruffled the back of his hair before standing.

“It’s getting late, the kids need to get to bed.”

They called the boys out of the water, handing out towels and dousing the fire as they headed up towards the house.

“Bennett and I can carry the beers out to the garage,” Thorn said, and Cassian’s eyes immediately met Rhysand’s amused state.

“Good try,” he chuckled.

Rhys added, “You can leave them on the kitchen counter.”

The boys mumbled something under their breath, but did as they were told and they all went off to get changed and get in bed.

They found their wives on the couch, wine drunk and giggly, with the twins asleep on the floor.

“Everyone else in bed?” Cassian asked, sitting on the arm of the couch by Nesta. She laid her head against his thigh and nodded.

Feyre inclined her head to her daughters on the floor in front of them. “These two insisted they weren’t tired.”

Rhysand snorted. “I see that.”

Azriel fell onto the couch by Elain while Rhys gently woke the twins and sent them to bed.

Elain looked up at him and chuckled, quietly, as she ran her fingers through his messy hair. “You’re drunk.”

“I am not,” he lied.

“Your eyes are glazed,” she whispered, “and I could barely make sense of the three words that just came out of your mouth.”

“He only had…” Cassian cocked his head to the side, counting on his fingers. “Yeah, I lost count. How many beers you have there, Az?”

Azriel mumbled something incomprehensible and sighed.

Cassian chuckled as he stood, and gathered Nesta in his arms before walking down the hall, toward their bedroom.

Feyre followed, carrying the empty wine glasses into the kitchen.

Elain shook her head as Azriel’s eyes fluttered shut, thanks to her fingertips gently rubbing at his head. A moment later, she thought he may have fallen asleep, but then he said, “I’m scared for her.”

Elain’s fingers slowed, but she nodded. “Luna’s smart-.”

“But teenage boys aren’t,” Azriel said, opening his eyes to meet his wife’s. “I know that Luna’s smart. And everyone can keep telling me how smart she is, but it doesn’t make me trust any guy that she’ll ever be with any more. Men are idiots. And the last thing I want is for my baby to be heartbroken, crying over some dick that didn’t deserve her in the first place.” Elain’s eyes softened, but Azriel went on, “And the fact that they’re getting more….intimate, only means that Luna’s starting to trust him and like him more. And that scares me.”

“I know,” Elain said, quietly, crawling onto his lap and straddling his waist. Her forehead fell against his as his eyes fell shut, once again. “She spent the entire night thinking she’d disappointed you.”

“She didn’t disappoint me,” Azriel said, quietly, and Elain knew that he meant it. And as she pulled back, she recognized the look that was creeping into his hazel eyes: guilt.

“She’s probably still awake if you want to go talk to her,” Elain said.

Azriel hesitated, then nodded. After Elain crawled off of him, he waited a moment before pushing himself up and began to amble his way down the hall, until he reached the last door on the left.

This time, he knocked.

He waited, and when there was no response, he knocked again, only to find no response. He cracked open the door and peeked inside. The lights were off, and Luna was sound asleep, the hood of her hoodie pulled over her dark hair, and the fan across the room on high, pointed right at her.

He laughed quietly at the sight.

Yeah, she was growing up, but sound asleep, she looked like she always had: mouth hanging open, one hand tossed behind her head. She used to fall asleep on him like that, and he’d have to carry her to bed and tuck her in. That’s how she would always be to him: that little girl whose only man in her life was her daddy.

Except that’s not how it was, not anymore.

Azriel walked to her bedside and leaned down to kiss her forehead before pulling her blanket up higher around her. “Night, Lunabug.”

As he headed back for her door, he heard, “Dad?”

He spun around, that alcohol catching up with him and nearly knocking himself over, thanks to the quick motion. He grabbed the doorframe to steady himself. “I…knocked this time.”

Luna rolled over and looked at him. Thanks to the light in the hallway streaming in, he could see the hurt in her light brown eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Azriel’s shoulders sagged as he made his way back into the room and sat down on the edge of her bed. He ran a hand through his hair before saying, “You don’t need to be sorry. I’m sorry. You’re growing up, and that’s exactly what you’re supposed to do, but I’m still figuring out how to raise a young woman and not a little girl.”

Luna nodded, but said nothing.

“It’s hard, though,” he began, honestly. “When I was seventeen, Luna, I had no idea how to treat girls. I went on a lot of dates, and…did a lot of things on those dates…and, if I’m being honest with you, not a lot of those things meant anything to me other than what I got out of them at that moment.” He looked at Luna. “It wasn’t until I started dating your mom that I got some sense knocked into me.”

She chuckled at that.

“But, I also know that Lachlan is not me,” Azriel continued. “I also know that I don’t know a lot about him. So, maybe next week we can have him and his parents over for dinner, and I can start to get to know him, if he means that much to you.”

He didn’t need any light in the room to see the tears lining her eyes. “I would like that.”

“Then you talk to him, I’ll talk to mom, and we’ll make it happen, okay?” She nodded, and he leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead. “Goodnight, Lunabug. I love you.”

Her arms wrapped around his shoulders and he was glad for what little balance he still had, so he didn’t topple over on her. “I love you, too, daddy.”

Wrapping an arm around her, he held her close, not letting her go until he felt her arms getting heavier. Until he carefully settled her back into the bed, tucking the covers around her, but not too tight, because she hated feeling constricted, and pushed the hoodie back just a bit to see her sleeping face.

She looked so much like her mother while she was asleep.

Quietly, carefully, he slipped out the door and closed it behind him.

He could tell the television and lights had been shut off in the living room, so he aimed for their bedroom instead, and found Elain sleepily beneath the covers herself. He stripped off his shirt and shorts, wearing just a pair of boxer-briefs and slid into bed beside her, aware that he probably smelled like a bar. Elain didn’t complain though, she just laid her head on his chest and slung an arm and leg over his body.

“How’d it go?” She asked into the darkness.

“Good. She was asleep, and I accidentally woke her up, but it’s okay. We needed to talk,” he admitted. He paused for a second before asking,

“Do you have Lachlan’s parents numbers?”

Lifting her head, Elain looked at him in the moonlight. “We are not talking to them about this at midnight, Azriel.”

“No, no,” he chuckled, rubbing a calming hand up and down her arm. “I was thinking it might be nice to have them over for dinner one night next week, all of them. Lachlan, Aelin and Rowan.”

Elain lifted a brow. “You’re serious.”

Azriel blinked. “Why wouldn’t I be serious?”

“Because you’re drunk and you just spent the entire day throwing a hissy fit,” Elain mumbled, nuzzling into his neck.

Azriel laughed, quietly. “Damn, you’re mean.”

Elain huffed then propped herself up on an elbow. “I’m serious. If they come over, you need to be nice.”

Azriel scoffed, his hand sliding down her back then up her shirt. “I’m always nice.”

“No mean-mugging the kid,” Elain went on. “You will ask him about his likes and dislikes, and you will not scare him shitless.”

Azriel sighed. “Yeah, yeah. I promise.”

“And you will offer Rowan some of your good whiskey,” Elain said.

Azriel looked pointedly at his wife. “There’s no need to get carried away.”

Elain grinned as she leaned down and pressed her mouth softly against his. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he whispered, and closed his eyes.

He was sound asleep before Elain could even lay back down, and snuggle up to him beneath the covers.

He was over-dramatic, and surely a pain in her ass, but by the gods, she loved that man. He had given her three beautiful, perfect children, and although, sixteen years after their first was born, they were still figuring this whole parenting ordeal out….Azriel was doing a pretty damn good job.

Which only made her love him even more.

#the return #the arrival #nessian #feysand #elriel #2nd gen #modern au #sequel #fanfic #fanfiction #sjm #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf

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canyouhearthelight · 4 years ago

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The Miys, Ch. 137

Trying to figure out Author’s notes is hard.... Sometimes I just don’t have anything pithy to say, or have too much to say and don’t know where to put it all.

Obviously I am an overthinker.

So, for the sake of everyone reading: Let’s cut to the Shoutouts!

The obvious first: @baelpenrose, @the-raven-fae, @anotherusrname, and @charlylimph-blog! I love all of you, you are the best.

Special mentions to: @zommbiebro bc I miss you and hope you’re okay. @nekohuntslight for being the OG person to message me about liking the story (yes, Bael, this is the dirty secret behind why I thought you lived in Australia when we first started talking.... shhhhhh). And alllllll the binge readers who blow up my inbox every day, Iloveyousomuchyoudon’tunderstand. Very much adore all of you, you have no idea how serious I am being right now. I need to go through and make one post just screaming all your names to the universe.

Tyche brought drinks and snacks from my kitchen before flopping on the couch in my quarters. The guys were at work, along with Antoine, but my office was closed down for the day. “How are you feeling about tomorrow?” she asked.

“Vati and Hannah have everything planned to the smallest detail,” I shrugged. “They’ve already coordinated with Xio and Evan for all the crowd control and monitoring shifts, and the murals are going up today.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m well aware of the logistics stuff. I literally handle all the staffing for the humans on the Ark, and Antoine was also part of the crowd control conversations.”

“Then why did you ask?” I laughed, grabbing a cracker and carefully stacking cheese and other toppings on it.

Before I could get it to my mouth, she snatched it and held it out of my reach. “Because I’m asking how you feel. You’re only attending as… well, an attendee. No monitoring, no calling the shots, no working from the floor.”

She surrendered my cracker, but I found myself setting it down, appetite gone. “I’m okay - “

“Lie.” There was suddenly a finger levelled between my eyes like a gun. Just as quickly, it was lowered, and my sister was tilting her head at me. “Come on. You know you can’t lie to me - I’ve known you longer than literally anyone on this ship except yourself.”

“Fine! It’s weird!” I admitted in frustration, standing to pace and shoving my hands through my hair. “My skin is crawling with anxiety, my hands are twitching to snatch up the files and nitpick everything to the smallest detail….”

“Except they locked you out.”

“Except they locked me out, yeah. But I’m pretty sure I could get Derek to let me in, which is why I’ve made a point to tell him not to, no matter how much I ask.” Dropping my hands, I sighed. “But if I ever want to leave this position, I have to let them do this.”

She shrugged and stole my cracker, this time chewing and swallowing before she responded. “You could have kept some involvement in it, you know.”

“Pfft, yeah right. I would have taken it over, and you know that.”

“Yep.”

“Then why even ask.” I dropped back down on the couch.

“‘Cause you needed to hear yourself say it,” she explained, nonchalant as ever, snagging an olive and watching me calmly.

I sat in silence, processing it. I hated when she outsmarted me like that, especially when she was right. “Can I at least eat first?”

She laughed and let it go, telling me how well the murals for the Festival were coming. I hadn’t even gotten to - allowed myself - to see the designs, and the more Tyche talked about them, the more I wanted to see them. By the time I finished my share of our snack, I decided to check out the progress.

We finally made our way to the decks where the Festival would take place, and I thought Tyche was going to die laughing at the way I gaped. The alcoves where the vendors would stage looked the same on first glance, but a closer look revealed very subtle shapes added that would give them a more savage, wild look in the right lighting. Metal sconces had been added to hold what looked like torches, but with special light emitters to simulate open flame. As we walked further, swirls of color revealed themselves slowly, first in light, curling tendrils, but slowly sharpening and taking on a more angular shape, twisting together into phantasmal images that vanished as soon as you tried to focus on them.

“It’s like walking through a garden, or a rainforest, but when I turn my head, I’m in a city.”

“Right?” she laughed as we came around the final corner.

At this point, we were surrounded by this mural. Just up ahead, there was a messy head of black hair tied back with a green piece of cloth. Bare feet and arms show smears of paint, and overalls covered a tank top - that, or the cloth for the hair had formerly been sleeves, I couldn’t tell. One hand propped up on hips while the other hung down, holding a very familiar paint pen.

“Christ on a triscuit, Vati, this is incredible,” I gasped softly.

She turned and smirked at me over her shoulder. “Not yet, but it will be when I finish.”

“I mean, all of it. The sconces…”

“Those were Hannah and Ivan.” Parvati walked over and touched one with her finger tip, stroking it gently.

Tyche made an impressed noise. “I’m only a little shocked that he had enough time.”

“The materials are on loan from the engineering departments, and we wanted them to be rather rough in the finishing. It helped. Sophia, no matter how curious you are, please do not lick the walls.”

A giggle bubbled up through my chest. “The thought never crossed my mind. I was trying to put together all the flavor profiles here. It’s… a lot.”

“Forgive me if I focused more on color than how the walls would taste. I don’t generally cook, remember.”

I stared down a swirl of pomegranate, popcorn, and gochujang. The colors - blue, pink, and yellow, respectively - worked well together, but the thought of the flavors made my stomach churn. “I solemnly swear not to lick the walls,” I promised. “How much of this are you expecting to still be up by the third night?”

“We have a team that will specifically come touch up the mural in specific places the morning before the second day.”

Tyche turned toward me and away from her study of the art. “Also, you would be surprised how much paint is on the walls. It will take a lot for Else to eat it all, once they are allowed in the area.”

“Before you ask,” Parvati cut me off. “We just asked them nicely. Well, Sam and Derek did. They’ve become quite the ersatz diplomats to Else.”

“Anything left?”

“Hannah is putting the final touches on the curtains for the alcoves and the seating areas. She’ll have a team installing them tonight once I finish.”

It was clever, and explained why she was only touching up part of the mural halfway between now and the closing of the event. “You two have really put your stamp on it.”

“Feel better?” She held one hand up gesturing at the entire entire project, eyebrow arched to show me that she hadn’t been fooled for a moment.

I rubbed my neck, and glanced at her from underneath my eyelashes. “Busted, I guess.”

“That would imply that anyone had believed your charade,” she smirked.

Taking a deep breath, I looked around us again. “I honestly do. I could never have done all this. Holding on would have…”

“Kept you in a position you frankly hate,” Parvati interrupted gracefully. “It’s the same reason Sebastian went back to the Undine. He’s passionate about it, and it shows in the quality of his work.” When I gaped in insult, she held up a hand. “Not everyone can succeed through fear of failing and a determination that things be done right if they must be done at all.”

“Everyone talking about me needing to retire, like I’m old or something,” I joked, throwing my hands into the air. “Physically, I’m only thirty-five.”

Tyche nodded to concede my point. “What about the food? I haven’t seen a menu come out yet.”

The change in topic made Parvati’s face collapse. “What? It should have gone out yesterday…” She flicked open her datapad, which flickered from the overspray that covered it. Frantically scrolling, she groaned. “This was scheduled, why didn’t it send?”

“Did you check the date?” I asked calmly. “Specifically the year.”

“Three times, it’s scheduled for tomorrow,” she insisted. “Right here: May seventeenth, twenty-forty aw fuck….”

“At least you got the decade right,” I pointed out. “You wouldn’t believe how many scheduled emails I’ve tried to automatically send out for ten or fifteen years ago.”

She nodded and seemed to get her bearings back. “So, protocol for this is… just send it right now and apologize for the late notification, don’t try to make excuses or explain?”

“Exactly. They won’t care why, they’ll just be excited the list is out.”

With a couple quick gestures, she sent the email and dismissed her datapad. “Okay, that was the last thing, then.” Turning back toward the wall she was working on before, she waved to us over her shoulder. “I’m not trying to be rude, but I really do need to finish this up. Thank you for coming to see everything… it was oddly reassuring to have both of you give us your stamp of approval before the Festival instead of making us wait until after.”

“For the record, you two have always had my stamp of approval, or I wouldn’t have tried so hard to keep my nose out of it.” I knew she couldn’t see me, but I still smiled. “We’ll catch up with you after the Food Festival. Remember: both of you need to plan on taking the day off afterwards. I’m serious. Have your unofficial advisors drop in and chat about everything, that’s fine. But no actual work, and I won’t let either of you see the survey results until the second day after. So rest.”

“Got it, boss lady. Have a good night!”

Tyche and I turned and headed back to my quarters. We remained silent as we took in all the preparations that had been done, waving to the handful of vendors who were bringing their supplies in already. Once we were back in normal corridors, the silence broke almost immediately.

“I think they’ve got this,” Tyche suggested nonchalantly.

“Oh, I know they do.”

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#the miys #found family #humans are weird #science fiction #aliens #apocalypse #humans are space orcs #humans are space fae #earth is space australia #post apocalypse #post post apocalypse #original science fiction #original sci fi #original writing

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missjanjie · 4 years ago

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Better Than Revenge | Chapter 3

Title: Better Than Revenge Summary: Karma Inc.’s business structure is simple - clients hire them when they’ve been grievously wronged and they send one of their revenge mercenaries to right them. As painstaking as their efforts to remain ethical may be, that may be tested when former detective, Rosé, enlists the squad to pick up where she couldn’t on a much higher scale, with potentially greater consequences. Word Count: ~2.7k (this chapter) | ~8k (total) Relationship(s): Rosnali (Rosé/Denali Foxx), Jankie (Jackie Cox/Jan Sport), Halldoll (Nicky Doll/Jaida Essence Hall), Gimone (Gigi Goode/Symone), Gottlux (Gottmik/Olivia Lux) Rating: T

Read on AO3 | Ko-Fi

Chapter Summary: Rosé learns Gigi, Symone, and Denali's revenge origin stories

Woodstock, IL — 2016

Gigi took a deep breath as she stared at herself in the mirror. She could do this, it was fine. Every time her suspicions or confusion would bubble up, she forced them back down. Hannah was nice, she was different from the other popular girls. She didn’t see the ‘weird art lesbian’ with the braces and thick-rimmed glasses, who rarely got pop culture references post-1989, at least, that’s how she made her feel.

“I’ll text you in the morning,” she assured her mother as she threw her bag over her shoulder. “It’ll be fine, I’m just hanging out with a friend.” She was out to her mom, of course, that was her biggest ally. But she wasn’t ready to tell her that the head cheerleader had taken an interest in her. Maybe when and if they became official. Until then, she shook off the last of her nerves and drove to her house, only pulled from her thoughts by the time she was sitting on Hannah’s bed.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” Hannah cooed, batting her lashes and resting her hand on Gigi’s thigh.

If Gigi hadn’t been so blinded by her crush, she might’ve thought Hannah was laying it on a little thick, but she couldn’t act like she didn’t enjoy the attention. “Me too, a-about you, I mean. Sorry, I’m just nervous…”

“How come? I didn’t come on too strong over text, did I?”

“No, no I liked it, it’s just… I’m a virgin, like, I’ve only ever kissed before,” she confessed, her cheeks flushing rosy pink. She had talked a big game over text, but being faced with the chance of starting a physical relationship brought her back to reality.

Hannah pouted, rubbing Gigi’s thigh as she thought, letting her hand inch higher. “Well, you’ve got fantasies, don’t you? I know you’ve masturbated before. What do you think about while you touch yourself?”

Gigi hesitated, chewing on her bottom lip. The other girl wasn’t wrong, she did know what she liked, could conjure up vivid imagery to get herself aroused, but she had never said any of it out loud. “I like powerful, confident women. I guess that’s something that drew me to you,” she started, “I wanna just… give up control, be dominated.”

“Really? Tell me more,” Hannah prompted, kissing along her neck and jaw and slowly tugging Gigi’s shirt off in an attempt to coax her to continue.

When Hannah didn’t seem deterred by her confession, Gigi started to relax. “It’s just, I don’t know, I always feel the need to be in control of my life and with sex, I just wanna let go and give up that power.”

“So like, what would you want someone to do to you?” she asked, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips.

She bit down on her lip. “Um… tie me up, spank me, choke me, and I know it’s kind of intense but maybe something like cnc or—” the incessant buzzing of her phone distracted her and, concerned it might be an urgent call or text from home, she took her phone out. “Sorry, one sec.”

It wasn’t from home, she had two missed calls from her best friend, Crystal, followed by several texts.

Crystal: GIGI STOP Crystal: SHUT UP! SHUT THE FUCK UP!!! Crystal: She’s broadcasting you on IG live! Crystal: We can see and hear everything…

Gigi’s face fell, her first instinct to pull her shirt back on. Then she slowly looked up and in front of her, that’s when she saw it, nestled between stuffed animals — Hannah’s phone with an instagram live going. She didn’t say anything, just ran out of the house as fast as her legs would take her and through her tears drove right to Crystal’s house. That was when the two of them formed their plot.

In and of itself, it was simple. Gigi waited one day until Hannah was away for a cheer competition and went to her house. “I’m so sorry to bother you, Mrs. Andrews, but I think I left some of my homework in Hannah’s room, she just said to let you know so I can run in and grab it.” Once inside, she found exactly what she was looking for, sliding Hannah’s diary into her backpack and went right back out.

“This feels very Mean Girls, I love it,” Crystal remarked as they taped page after page of the diary on lockers, walls, anywhere they could.

“Well, plan B was to go the Heathers route, so let’s just hope it works.”

And to say it worked was an understatement. As it turned out, Hannah had written things far more incriminating, and because it came from someone of her social ranking, it made everyone immediately lose interest in Gigi’s livestream scandal, and she graduated with the anonymity she needed for survival.

Present Day

“I’ll be honest with you,” Rosé remarked, “it’s kinda hard to picture you as an ugly duckling, especially the way you described it.” Gigi was too pretty, too perfect. Something didn’t add up.

Gigi got out her phone and scrolled through her photos until she found one from her senior year. “Believe it, doll,” she said as she held her phone up. She watched with an amused expression as Rosé looked from her phone, to her, and back with her eyes wide and mouth agape. “Braces off, lasik, learned a lot about how to dress while going to FIDM, which is where I met Symone, who helped fill in the blanks.”

“And made sure she got to do all them things she listed to that bitch without feeling ashamed about it,” Symone added with a smirk, draping her arm around Gigi and pulling her close, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“Why don’t you tell her your story next, baby?” Gigi prompted.

Conway, AR — 2014

Symone watched her sister throw her bag over her shoulder and start to sneak out the window. “Look, I ain’t snitching or nothing, but I still don’t think this is a good idea.”

She and her sister, Lala, were close, sometimes referring to themselves as twins – they were only ten months apart, in the same grade at school. And until the summer after sophomore year, they had the same group of friends. But the crowd Lala ran with now just rubbed her the wrong way.

“You worry too much,” Lala brushed it off. “I’ll be fine, in bed by morning like nothing happened.”

But when Symone got a collect call two hours later, she found out things were far from fine. She drove down to the county jail as fast as she could without getting pulled over herself. Luckily bail was a mere fifty dollars, but once she got her sister back in the car, she looked at her incredulously. “What the fuck happened?”

“One of ‘em brought weed, another brought booze, but when the cops rolled up on us, they said it all was mine. And who was they gonna believe, me or three white kids?” Lala sniffled, wiping her eyes. “I don’t know what’s gonna happen to me,” she whispered.

“I don’t either,” Symone admitted quietly, frustrated at her inability to come up with an immediate solution. “But we’re gonna do our best to get you out of this, okay?”

The best they could do wasn’t easy. It involved a lot of legal maneuvering, meetings with one person in a suit after another. The end result wasn’t ideal, but it was far better than what could have been. Lala was fined three hundred dollars and put on thirty days of probation. In and of itself, it didn’t seem so bad, but the residual consequences took their toll.

“I lost my scholarship, ‘mone. That was my ticket into college,” Lala sighed. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I know I’m getting off with a slap on the wrist, but I really ain’t thrilled about taking out student loans,” she sat down on the floor beside the bed, head leaning against it. “Or maybe I’ll start with community college, I dunno. It just fucking sucks that they all got off with warnings.”

Symone’s brows knitted together, her lips pressed into a fine line. “Don’t you worry baby,” she said after a moment, “they gon’ face consequences one way or another.”

It had taken most of spring break, but Symone finally had all of the pieces for her plan. “Not the most convoluted thing in the world, but it’ll get the job done,” she mused.

Lala looked at her sister, then at her desk and back. “Do I even wanna know where the hell you got coke from?”

“No, you do not.”

Getting the drugs was the hard part. Getting into school early to plant the drugs in the lockers of Lala’s former friends was far easier, as was leaving an ‘anonymous tip’ from a ‘concerned student’ on the principal’s desk.

“God, I wish I could’ve seen them get hauled off in cop cars,” Lala remarked as she and Symone drove home from school. The three students were quietly escorted out of class and arrested, the school wanting to bring as little attention as possible. “Shame that they rich daddies will still get them off lightly.”

Symone sighed and nodded. “Sure, but they’re still gonna get something, which is more than what they got when they threw you under the bus. Bet they’re gonna think twice before they let someone else take the fall for them.”

Her sister smiled softly and shook her head. “You really ain’t gotta do all that for me, you know?”

“I know,” she hummed, “not gonna stop me, though.”

Present Day

“Wow, that’s both selfless and hardcore,” Rosé remarked with an impressed nod. “Did she ever find out where you got the coke from?”

Symone laughed and shook her head. “Nah, that secret I’m taking to the grave.”

Rosé jokingly put her hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay, fair enough,” she chuckled. After a moment, she turned her attention to Denali. “That just leaves you, princess,” she remarked, a slight smirk tugging at her lips. “What’s your claim to infamy?”

Denali tossed her hair off her shoulder and grinned softly. “Who, me?” she cooed, fluttering her lashes. “Well, it is kind of an interesting story…”

Nicky rolled her eyes and tossed one of the couch pillows at her head. “Stop flirting and get on with it already.”

Fairbanks, AK — 2011

Denali groaned when the sound of loud footsteps racing up the stairs pulled her from her quasi-asleep state, then pulled a pillow over her head when the door swung open.

“What the hell are you still doing in bed when the qualifiers are in two hours?” her friend, Kahmora, asked with incredulous horror. She yanked the covers off of her, but stepped back in concern when she finally caught sight of Denali’s face. “Oh god, you look like shit.”

She frowned and rolled over to face away from her. “I feel like I died and was in the process of being reanimated, then killed again,” she lamented. “It’s probably food poisoning… or maybe swine flu came back, I dunno.”

“Did you eat anything unusual?”

Denali furrowed her brows as she wracked her brain. “I mean, Tara gave me those brownies and I had one, but when she said they were ‘special’, I just thought she meant they had weed in them, but that sure as hell isn’t it.” With as much energy as she could muster, she sat upright. “Oh my god, do you think she poisoned me?”

Kahmora arched her brow. “I think that’s a bit much, even for her. Do I think she put something like a laxative in there so it’d take you out long enough that you couldn’t beat her out in the international qualifiers? Yeah, probably. She’s a cunt.”

The skater scowled, her jaw clenched. “She’s a dead cunt,” she corrected, then suddenly shot out of bed. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she muttered as she raced to the bathroom yet again.

There wasn’t an obvious revenge plan for Denali. She knew that nothing she did would get her spot in the competition, and she wondered if it was even worth it. But her pettiness and spite won out and she began planning out her course of action.

“Remember,” she was saying, “if all else fails, we go the Tonya Harding route.”

Kahmora sighed. “For the last time, you are not whacking Tara’s kneecaps, now let’s go.” Despite some pouting from Denali, they went to get the gears turning in their plan. They got to the ice rink and slipped into the locker room without being noticed by Tara, who was in the middle of practice.

Denali picked the lock and took out Tara’s change of clothes. Then she reached into her own bag and pulled on latex gloves and a plastic bag containing several leaves of poison ivy. She turned the shirt, pants, and socks inside out and firmly rubbed the leaves against the fabric, making sure she left as little fabric uncovered as possible. “She’s lucky I’m merciful or I’d rub it on her panties too,” she remarked offhandedly.

Kahmora tilted her head as she watched her. “Do you actually think it’ll take her out of the competition?” she asked as her friend put the leaves and gloves into the ziploc bag.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I mean, it’s possible, probable really, that the constant itching might make it too difficult for her to skate. But this is more about getting even with her. I might not ever get another chance to compete for internationals. She’s lucky the only retribution she’s getting is a few weeks of itchy blisters.”

“Otherwise you’d Tonya Harding her?”

Denali nodded brightly. “Exactly! Now come on, we have to get rid of the evidence.” And with that, they scurried out of the locker room as inconspicuously as they’d entered it and threw out the evidence in a trash can several blocks over.

When the news broke that Tara had withdrawn from the competition due to ‘unexpected physical problems’, Denali did her best to feign shock and didn’t celebrate until she and Kahmora were alone.

“So, what do you wanna do now?” Kahmora asked.

Denali tilted her head in thought, then smirked. “Let’s go get brownies.”

Present Day

“Personally, I still think you should’ve busted her knees,” Mik mused offhandedly. “Like, I bet you would’ve figured out a way to get away with it, you conniving bitch,” he teased.

Denali shrugged. “Maybe, but it’s not very original and it’d look a lot more suspicious on my end.”

“I think it was pretty badass,” Rosé offered, making the other woman smile which, in turn, made her heart flutter — something she chose to actively ignore. Instead, she let all of their stories sink in. None of their reasons for revenge were out of line, none of their victims undeserving. And none of the consequences were as severe as some of the things she had seen in her time. “You all really know what you’re doing, huh?”

“We wouldn’t have been able to keep this up for three years if we didn’t,” Jan replied. “We had all of the potential on our own, but we make a difference together, and then we added Jackie to tie up the loose ends. It’s been smooth sailing from there.”

“Yeah, and now Jackie ties you up instead,” Nicky teased, earning an eye roll in response.

Rosé watched the group interact with a fond smile. She had assumed they all got along to be working together for as long as they have been, but she hadn’t anticipated them truly behaving like a family. It was a stark contrast to the constant coldness and curtness she had grown accustomed to, both in her previous career and in the environment she grew up in. She only hoped it would make the tasks ahead that much easier for them.

#gimone #rosnali #rpdr rpf #i promise everything else will be present day unless its something important lol

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radiorenjun · 5 years ago

Note

I just rewatched crazy rich asians and a sudden scenario popped up in my head lol. Can you do a nct dream reaction to you coming from an insanely rich fam but you did not tell them after years of being together (like they thought you were poor) I really like your fics uwuu💗luv youuu🥺

God now this is making me want to watch Crazy Rich Asians. Anyways.

Mark Lee

You both have been dating since your first year in college. The day you told him you were the daughter of one of the most successful people in the country, his jaw dropped. I mean, considering how you live in a small apartment back when you two were in your early years of dating.

He remembers the day your mother decided to visit the two of you to meet Mark for the first time. Your mother was a very famous and inspiring talk show host and your father was the owner of a very well known hospital. You could barely hold back your laughter when you saw him practically try to scoop his jaw back up when he watched your mother walk out of a Tesla X car.

"You're (Y/M/N)'s daughter? One of the richest people in the industry?!" Mark exclaimed exasperatedly a few minutes after your mother left. Your mother had brought over fancy seafood with some rare caviar and 24k gold pieces sprinkled on top for dinner. 'I wanted to make a good first impression' she said with a casual shrug as you all sat at your dining table.

"Uh... I wouldn't consider myself rich, persay" you laughed. "Oh my god, you're the daughter of one of the most famous talk shows in the industry." Mark dramatically collapsed on the couch, his hand came up to cup his mouth dramatically as if he just found out you were secretly an alien disguised as Michael Jackson.

"Oh come on, it's not that of a big deal, Mark." you whined, sitting beside him and shaking his arm. "Chenle is probably richer than me," you added as you placed a peck on his cheek as he sighed. "I guess you're right."

"Can I ask you something, though?" he muttered, leaning his head against yours as you leaned against his shoulder. You hummed in response, moving your hand to play with his fingers. "Why didn't you tell me?" he asked in a small voice, a pout evident on his lips.

You pondered for a moment before shrugging, "I don't know, I wanted to tell you at first when we started dating but then I forgot bout it. I rarely call my parents since they're so busy," you smiled sheepishly at him.

"That explains the Rolex watch you gave me for Christmas," he uttered. "Okay, for the record, those were from my own savings!" you shot back defensively with a laugh, smacking his arm gently. "Oh so now you're bragging bout being rich," he teased.

Huang Renjun

You were both planned on going to a an art gallery date Renjun found on the internet for your two year anniversary. What you didn't know was that the gallery he was talking bout was actually one of your grandfather's art gallery. It was safe to say that the poor boy was practically trying to scoop his jaw back up when he saw the owner of the gallery he saw online giving you a big hug.

You were surprised his jaw was still intact with his face when you told him that the owner was your grandfather. He then remembered the time when you told him your grandfather really like to paint alot, hence your magnificent talent that landed you in a scholarship with one of the biggest art colleges in the country.

“So, your grandfather owns like, what, ten galleries all over the country?” Renjun gaped as you walked side by side down the halls filled with paintings after you introduced him to your grandfather. You shrugged sheepishly, staring up at one of the paintings, swinging your intertwined hands as you walked.”Does this mean you’re like rich? Crazy rich?” Renjun added.

“You’re blowing this out of proportion.” You chuckled, watching Renjun give you a blank stare. “I’m not! I’m just in shock that my girlfriend’s family are aristocrats and could end my life in a heartbeat!” he exclaimed, causing you to let out a soft laugh.

“I’m not necessarily rich like that. But I will inherit all this when my grandfather retires.” You shrugged. “Damn, I never thought I’d be dating a billionaire. This seems like an unexpected climax of a really weird movie” he muttered, running his thumb over your knuckles as you giggled.

“We’re not billionaires, you drama queen. Why does it matter to you anyways if my family’s kinda wealthy?” you raised your brow with a teasing grin, making your boyfriend let out a scoff. “It makes me seem like a peasant standing next to you, your highness,” he rolled his eyes in a sardonic tone. You laughed, smacking him lightly on his arm as you gave him a soft peck on his cheek.

“At least you’ll be my peasant.”

“That sounds like you bought me off of an auction for slavery. I didn’t know you were this kinky, Y/N.”

“Don’t make me dump you on our second anniversary in front of my grandfather, Huang.”

Lee Jeno

He really didn’t see this coming. One year and seven months ago, you seem like the average college student joining sororities to not spend as much money, like he did. You seemed like the average broke college student, spending your days eating cheap ramen from the supermarket, making chocolate truffles with a coffee maker and trying out those Buzzfeed videos where they make three full course meals using house hold items.

Hell, even your friends didn’t know bout this. Well, maybe they did. But nothing would prepare Lee Jeno the absolute shock he was bout to feel when he found out that you and your older sibling owned a really fancy five star hotel that seems only celebrities went to. Hell, you even had your own personal presidential suite and an infinity pool!

“How did you even get money to pay for all this?” Jeno gaped as he entered the room, putting his bag on the chair beside the door that looks as if it costed more than his own life. It probably did, though.”Uh...” you bit your lip as you heard a loud booming voice yell out your name.

“Baby sis!”

Jeno’s eyes were wide and filled with surprise as he saw someone who could’ve been mistaken as the president’s child come up and give you a big hug and a pinch on the cheeks. “Is this the Jeno you’ve been talking bout to mom and dad? Quite the charmer, I’d say,” your sibling grinned, as Jeno stretched his hand out and introduced himself, masking his confusion with a light smile.

Jeno politely asked who this person who had their arm slung over your shoulder and pinching your cheeks red, causing your sibling to laugh. “You really went all out with the broke college act to the point you just don’t mention your own family anymore, huh?” they laughed. Jeno was beyond astonished to find out that your parents were extremely loaded that they bought a really expensive hotel for vacation purposes just for you and your relatives to use.

Turns out you had a whole broke college student act to discover a new lifestyle out of the rich and easy one. Plus, you really liked interacting with people, hence why you joined a sorority. Jeno would eventually get over it after you explained everything, still baffled that his girlfriend had the money to pay child support for his great great grandchildren.

“Am I in heaven?” Jeno jokes as he ran his hand over his wet hair, watching you get into the tub with him, holding a fancy cup filled with wine. “Don’t get used to it, Lee. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Tomorrow it’ll be back to making poached salmon in a coffee maker.” You laughed, taking a sip of your wine as you snuggled closer to his chest.

“Good to know, nothing has changed. Despite having a girlfriend that could cover my future descendants expenses.”

“You’re really not letting this go, are you?”

“You can’t blame a man for overthinking. Oh god, the day I’ll be meeting your parents would probably be equivalent to meeting the King and Queen of England.”

Lee Donghyuck

Precious boy would be shocked but not that shocked. You get me?

He’s gonna act all dramatic at first, putting a hand on his chest how you just told him this big thing bout yourself after a year of dating. He found out through a really unexpected meetup with your parents, jaw gaping once he found out that both of your parents are rich ceo’s of really big insurance companies.

Apparently, your parents decided to pick you up for a small vacation to Paris. Being the extras that they are, they made an extravagant dramatic entrance in your multimillion limo, offering Hyuck a ride home in the process. Lowkey the whole car ride was him just being so speechless that you, yourself was surprised to see your usually goofy and loud boyfriend so silent and speechless.

Low key he felt kinda insecure now that he’s met your parents. What if they don’t like him because they thought he wasn’t good enough to be a part of their family? Or rich enough to even be your boyfriend. Though the light conversation your mother had sparked up eased him, feeling relieved that at least your mom liked him, despite your dad being to busy with work to even spare him a glance instead of looking up from his laptop.

The next time you meet up was on a cafe date three days afterward. “I can’t believe I just met your richass parents.” was the first thing he said to you that day. You cackled at his horrified expression as he stares at you as if he had committed arson, chewing his muffin softly as he spoke.

“Relax you big baby, they like you already. They thought you were nice and polite, and quiet.” that last part sounds so wrong you instantly gulped down your milkshake. “If only they knew how much sorcery you have to make me still date you despite how you act like a worm on a heatstroke.” you shuddered.

He let out a sarcastic laugh in response, shoving what’s left in his pistachio muffin into your mouth to shut you up. You giggled, humming at the taste as your boyfriend chuckled.There was a brief moment of silence as you chewed the rest of his muffin before Donghyuck spoke up.

“I never thought my life would come to the day where I have a girlfriend who has a possible chance of being my Sugar Mommy.”

“LEE DONGHYUCK!”

Na Jaemin

He wouldn't be that surprised, really. Finding out that you’re the daughter of a famous k-drama director was quite unexpected considering he was the casted as the main character of this k-drama meaning he had to work harder to make your dad like him. He was beyond astonished to find you visiting the studio with your mother to celebrate your parent’s anniversary in a really expensive Korean Barbeque restaurant that seems even Lee Sooman couldn’t afford to get in.

After finding out Jaemin was THE Na Jaemin you were dating, your parents invited him to join you and your family for dinner. He was a nervous wreck in front of your parents. Not only they were successful and could get him kicked out of the role in a heartbeat if he didn’t make a good first impression, they were rich too. If he plans to marry you, he’s gonna have to be praying to God that this dinner goes smoothly.

Lowkey the thought of you being rich didn’t faze him that much but he was worried your parents might not approve of him considering he wasn’t as successful as they were. Of course, with the constant habit of bringing him up during family dinners that you had developed, they were quite happy to see such a sweet caring boy had the possibility of being their son-in-law.

Believe me, it was their words, not mine.

“MOM! You can’t say things like that!” you whined, burying your head in your hands as he giggled, his hold on your other hand tightening under the table. “What? You two are already in a committed relationship for fourteen months already, and you’re still in that honeymoon phase, unlike your father here who acts as if I was the bane of his existence.” your mother jokes.

“That’s because you are.” you father teased. “Jaemin is a nice boy, having him as a son in law would be great addition to the family.” he added as your face flushed red even more when you felt Jaemin squeeze your hand. Jaemin had a wide smile displayed on his face, his own cheeks flushed red at your parent’s words.

“Maybe one day,” he smiled to himself as he stared at your whole embarrassed being sitting in front of your millionaire parents.

Zhong Chenle

I need more Chenle gifs. Anyways

Most definitely will plan to buy the whole SM Entertainment with you to prevent mistreatment for his foreign hyungs and dongsaengs. Honestly it’s just gonna be so funny for him to find out that you were from a wealthy family as well. No wonder you could afford the latest Dior bag the moment it got released, and bought him the limited edition of the latest Kingdom Hearts game.

At some point of his life, he thought you were secretly stealing money from the bank or something. He found out when he visited your hometown for the first time for a Summer Tour. He didn’t think he’d be staying at a private mansion-like villa. Of course, you invited the other Dream members to stay over so their manager wouldn’t have to struggle with finding a super expensive hotel with high level security.

From then on, every special event is like a gift-giving competition to see either who bought the most items or the most expensive one to make the other feel guilty.

“No. You didn’t.” you gasped, glaring at your boyfriend who just grinned mischievously, despite the fact that he had bought so much stuff that he doesn’t even remember which gift that was. “I did,” he grinned proudly as he watched you pull out those aesthetic acrylic photos with a spotify link on the top from tiktok. “Dammit, you beat me to it.” you pouted, pulling a shopping bag from your side of gifts to pull out an acrylic stand of the two of you on your first date with your shared playlist link on spotify on it.

“That’s so sweet, y/n. I love it, even thought you practically lost this one.” he grinned cheekily. “Lost?” you raised your brows, questioningly. "Honestly, this feels more of a competition than an endearing moment to remember," you mused.

"Not my fault you spoiled me, it's only fair if I spoil you back." Chenle laughed. "What kind of girlfriend I would be if I didn't spoil my hard working boyfriend?" you grinned, letting out a small giggle afterwards as you pulled out another shopping bag from your side to give to your loving boyfriend.

"A rich one," Haechan muttered as he entered the room.

Park Jisung

The day he found out you were loaded was the day he finally got to sleepover at your house when he got a clear schedule. In your 8 months of dating, you two never got to hang out in your house as you both were too busy with your own things to even have a decent date without instant ramen and 6 other males involved.

He expected you to live in a normal minimalistic house. You've sent him hilarious pictures of yourself posing dramatically in your living room with the caption, 'paint me like one of your French girls' at the bottom. He knew you had some kind of minimalistic house with the beige couch and potted plants in the background.

But the picture on his phone was nothing compared to the reality of what your house actually looked like. He swore the entrance to your house was almost four times larger than his own size, and that's saying something. Poor boy was practically trying to scoop his jaw back up when he saw the gigantic chandelier hovering over the two of you in the living room.

"How are you not scared of being crushed by glorious diamonds every day?" was what he said when you dragged him to your room with his eyes lingering on the gigantic chandelier and your fingers wrapped around his wrist. You laughed, shrugging as you pulled him through the long hallway filled with gigantic frames of you and your family.

When he entered you bedroom, he practically dropped his dufflebag to the floor. "I brought my pillow for nothing then," Jisung gaped as he saw your king-sized bed that could fit three or possibly four people. "Are you sure you're not some aristocrat? You're basically living off of the We Boom era," Jisung chuckled incredulously as he watch you collapse on your bed.

"Excuse me, Mr. Idol At Thirteen. You're way more richer than I am," you giggled as Jisung walked over and slumped on the bed beside you, humming at the fluffiness of your freshly washed sheets. "That's clearly inaccurate, y/n. I feel offended you never told me that you're basically a billionaire," Jisung pouted jokingly.

You rolled your eyes, "shut up, Park. I live off of instant noodles and homemade omelettes, I'm no different from you." you booped Jisung's nose, causing him to scrunch up his face in an adorable manner. He looked up to see the paintings of baby angels on your ceiling, it was like some kind of museum.

"I bet you secretly have 60 credit cards in your wallet." he mumbled to himself, eyes still staring at you in disbelief as you gave him an incredulous expression. "Jisung. I'm not that rich, really." you deadpanned, "you saved me from going broke by refusing my offer to pay on dates." you joked.

Jisung laughed, "watch what you're saying, y/n. I don't think I'm ever paying for our dates ever again after this sleepover," he pointed a finger at you. You rolled your eyes, pushing his finger away from your face as you continued to bask in each others presence.

"Does this mean you're finally gonna let me pay though? I'm ordering pizza."

"Not happening, L/N."

A/n: IM SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I PROCRASTINATE ALOT IM SORRY THIS WAS SO BAD I-

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kickingitwithkirk · 4 years ago

Text

Greetings From Austin

Pairing: Alpha!Jensen Ackles x Alpha!Jared Padalecki x Omega!OFC

Summary: Jensen and Jared are at odds over a monumental decision that changes their lives in a way they couldn’t have envisioned.

Word Count: 2616

Warnings: a/b/o, homophobia, bisexuality, biphobia, angst, cursing, self doubt, depression/anxiety, medical stuff, sexual dysfunction, infertility

*additional warnings to be added in future parts.

A/N: Here we go again with one my weird as hell dreams, series Inspired by this art.

A/N II: There is no intentional hate or malevolence intended towards any of the Ackles or Padalecki families. This is a purely fictional piece containing real and created persons/names/events set in the fictional A/B/O verse. Some dates/events altered to fit story.

*no beta-all mistakes are mine

*divider by @writeyourmindaway

*images found online

Prologue

Austin, TX

Mid July

“Babe,” Jensen softly says in a low voice to the person seated next to him in the waiting room, “Babe,” he says a bit louder, still getting no response. Leaning close, he blows into their ear.

Jared starts, his “what” muffled by the finger he’s been chewing on.

“You know you can’t do that, don’t want you getting sick.” Taking his hand Jensen pulls it away from his pretty pink lips, gently caressing the finger. Jared had finally stopped chewing on his hands when Covid-19 became widespread.

“Where’s your gum?” Jared bite his lip not answering.

Sighing, Jensen shifts retrieving his pack and hands a piece to him. “What’s got you masticating again?” He inquires as Jared pops the stick in his mouth.

Jared chews the gum nervously weighing how to answer the question knowing Jensen won’t accept anything less than the whole truth. “What if something goes wrong again because of me.”

Jensen’s brow furrowed. He learned years ago that while their relationship is one of equals, he had to be lead Alpha when Jared’s mental state overwhelmed him as it had the last few weeks.

***

After the public announcement in March 2019 that season fifteen would be Supernaturals last, they had agreed when finished with the pickups they would take an extended break, return to Austin and concentrate on their marriage.

Jared intended to stop acting indefinitely, pursuing other interests and Jensen wanted to concentrate on his music.

Of course, things didn’t quite end up how they planned.

Jared entered negotiations to star in the Walker, Texas Ranger reboot, along with being an executive producer. Jensen got a call from Kripke wanting him for the role of Soldier Boy in The Boys third season.

But by March of 2020, everything came to a halt thanks to the Corona-virus.

The shutdowns left Supernaturals final two episodes with no definitive filming date and their seemingly never ending last season put their other projects on hold.

For the first time in years they had the luxury of a leisurely schedule, not having to be somewhere on a timetable, they could communicate with friends and family uninterrupted, deal with their other businesses, charities, etc, leaving most days free to enjoy being together without constraint.

But even amazing, awesome, vigorous sex on every horizontal/vertical surface that could support the two big Alphas only filled so many hours and like many couples, they started getting each others nerves and looked for other ways to stay occupied.

By late May, Jared was unable to sleep or eat, even going out of the house became a chore. When he hit a consecutive fourth day in bed, Jensen bodily dragged him into the bath for a desperately needed shower and loaded him in his truck driving to his doctor's.

Upon checking in they were told patients only allowed in the facility. Jared started panicking, saying he was having chest pains and couldn’t breath. He was rushed in with Jensen hot on their heels after morphing into an overprotective Alpha mate no one was stopping.

Jared’s doctor deduced with the lock-downs prohibiting him from his routine checkups and periodic adjustments needed to his medications triggered this episode.

The first step was to wean him off his current prescriptions and change to a newly approved, alternative regime. He was checked in a facility for ten days under observation while detoxing off his meds.

His therapist switched his twice weekly tele-counseling sessions to daily for the foreseeable future and Kodas certification as an emotional support animal was approved. His progress was slow but he was returning back to his sweet natured, big hearted, exceptionally tactical, overgrown puppy self.

When the surprise call from the clinic came a few days ago about an appointment opening, Jensen initially didn’t want it, still in his overly excessive protective Alpha mode. Jared’s outburst made him relent, fearing they were on a collision course for a major setback if he didn’t.

And Jensen, being Jensen, went overboard to ensure the appointment was absolutely private.

Part I

Jared was about to speak when a woman in scrubs called out, “Mr. Bonham and Mr. Page.” they got up crossing over to her, “Hello, I’m Sissy, Dr. Rodgers nurse, please follow me.”

They pass through the doorway leading through a maze of halls like that of any other medical clinic except this one specialized in a very specific service.

The nurse opens a door near the back of the clinic gesturing for them to enter the spacious office, “Please have a seat, the doctor will be with you shortly.” She closed the door and they sat down in the pair of chairs directly in front of the large, dark mahogany desk.

Jensen, scenting Jared’s nervousness, lifts his right hand kissing his palm, making him chuckle at the tickle of Jen’s soft beard before twining their fingers together and setting them on his left thigh, smiling reassuringly.

There was a brief knock before the door opened and an older, silver haired Beta entered. “Hello, I’m Dr. Rodgers, how are we doing today?” He asks, moving to his chair behind the desk.

Jared gave him a tight smile and Jensen remained placid.

The doctor raises an eyebrow, “Relax Mr. Page, this is just a visit to go over the paperwork before deciding about how we proceed, not the Spanish Inquisition.” Jared releases his held breath but couldn’t completely calm himself.

“I know the process can be overwhelming but I must ask, is there something we’ve done to make you uncomfortable?” Dr. Rodgers inquires.

“No, everyone’s been really nice, very professional. It’s just we..we had issues the first time we attempted to do this.” Jared finished his sentence quietly, in the recess of his mind; something bad is gonna happen and it’ll be my fault.

Jensen squeezes his hand tighter, instinctively sensing Jared’s mind was trying to spiral again, “When tried this before someone leaked our plans to the media. It wasn't ever proven the clinic was involved but...”

“We do everything possible to keep our clients anonymity protected here. All of our staff have been thoroughly vetted and sign NDA, given your professions, you're familiar with how they work. Your real identities will remain completely confidential, even if you choose to not proceed. It is why you chose this particular clinic, yes?”

“Yes, it is.” Jensen replied.

“How about we get this bit of paperwork out of the way, then we can have a more relaxed visit. I’ve gone over the applications you both submitted and have noted a few discrepancies in the medical section that need clarification before we proceed,” He opens the top file, “Mr. Bonham, why did you omit Genu Varum from your medical history?”

Jensen kept his expression neutral as he felt his stomach automatically clench. He had been mercilessly teased throughout his childhood about his bowed legs by his older brother Josh and later his buddies from school when they’d come over to hang out. By the time he was in high school Jensen’s extraordinary looks and personality were what got people’s attention first. Nowadays, many a fanfic waxed poetic about those bowed legs.

“The questionnaire inquired about inherited genetic medical conditions and since mine isn’t, I didn’t think it was necessarily applicable.” Jared hears an edge creeping into Jensen’s voice and gives their tangled fingers a quick squeeze.

“Did you see an orthopedist and were they able to determine what caused the condition? Did they suggest any surgical procedures or therapies to straighten your legs?”

“I was born a preemie, the orthopedists my parents consulted decided my condition was attributable to that.” Jensen replies tersely, dropping his vocal range. Jared gripped his hand harder, telling him to cool the attitude. “The doctor didn’t recommend surgery but sent me to physical therapy, thought it would help them straighten as I grew.”

“So no others in your immediate family have this issue?”

“Everyone my family has straight legs, including my three children.”

Jared piped in, “He hates it but he does have an exercise regimen; stretching, strength training. Oh, he also takes several different vitamins, omega oils, turmeric and extra vitamin D to support his joints.” They watched the doctor scribble a few more notes in the file before closing it.

“Mr. Page,” Jared sits up straighter in his chair, “I appreciate that you went into detail about your mental health status. I see you’ve recently been hospitalized, your medications have been changed to an alternative regiment and you’ve also increased your therapy sessions?”

Jared’s interview continued for another twenty minutes as Dr. Rodgers questioned him in depth about his depression and anxiety, feeling said anxiety ratcheting up so he focused on Jensen’s thumb rhythmically moving over his hand and used every ounce of his acting skills to appear confident and in control.

Dr. Rodgers closed his file, “I only have a few general questions left then we can discuss how you wish to proceed.”

After a more relaxed, genial conversation with the doctor, Sissy took them to a couple private rooms with paraphernalia to help stimulate them into producing a couple semen samples.

Jensen was getting close to finishing with his favorite spank-bank fantasy when he felt Jared’s frustration across their bond.

~~~

Jared couldn’t get aroused.

He felt as useless as his flaccid cock.

His doctor warned him that loss of sex drive could be a possible side effect of his new regiment until his body adjusted to it. He had struggled with temporary impotence a few times on his old meds, always fearful Jensen would finally see him as undesirable, no longer a satisfactory mate.

Rationally, he knew it was his illness causing these exceptionally hard to deal thoughts recently and the nagging idea this wasn’t the right thing for them to attempt again continually kept creeping in.

Jensen’s unspoken reluctance about having more children at his age was also weighing on his conscience, warring against his own biological longings.

They had a humongous argument when he told Jensen about taking the appointment. Jen thought this was the wrong time to attempt it again, pointing out he was just getting his equilibrium back setting Jared went off on a rant about how he no longer wanted him and would leave him like Genevieve had because he was too broken to deal with anymore.

Unmitigated anguish was written across Jensen’s beautiful features, the very notion that Jared could conceivably believe that he’d ever abandon him made his soul hurt in such a way no verbal language on earth could ever express his devastated feelings traveling across their bond.

***

Everything they’d been through; from that bar fight solidifying their friendship, Jared’s first breakdown, the years of living as roommates while secretly a couple to finding wives who understood their unique relationship and still married them both in 2010.

The joyous arrival of JJ three years later that unfortunately exacerbated Genevieve's frustration of not being able to conceive coming out with a vengeance at Jared. His unexpected breakdown in Switzerland was the final nail in their marriage. Gen was there for him but in the end it was all too much and she filed for divorce.

Shortly after, Jared’s iCloud account was hacked. It was believed, but never conclusively proven, that Gen was behind it since her lawyer was trying to break their prenuptial agreement, the videos documenting his private and explicit sexual relationship with Jensen were legally considered adulterous. In the end, the court upheld the legal document but the ramifications...

They were summoned to L.A. for the meeting from hell with WB executives, both convinced it was the end of Supernatural and their careers.

After the reaming out, they each received a weeks pay suspension to cover some of what it was gonna cost PR in time and money to deal with the inevitable repercussions and placate the show's sponsors.

How would the show’s fans react? Would they still be able to accept them as brothers only on TV while in real life they were involved in a highly stigmatized relationship?

When they returned to work there was an atmosphere of tension that hadn’t existed before. It was an open secret that all shows had their share of bitchiness and backstabbing behind the scenes. Jensen may have the thicker skin, keeping tighter control on his emotions, but Jared knew it hurt him just as deeply the loss of some of their friends because of prejudicial, social beliefs that two Alpha males shouldn’t be involved.

Jensen’s parents showed up unexpectedly in Vancouver a few weeks later. What started out as a not quite comfortable visit quickly deteriorated with his religiously conservative parents. They had not raised him like this and blamed Jared, saying he had corrupted him, leading him into a sinful lifestyle. He needed to repent and return to his wife to whom he had made a commitment before god.

Jensen blew up, replying it was none of their business, it was between them and oh, yeah, Danneel knew about them before marrying him and they better not say anything to her. Without another word his parents left. When he later called them to make amends, his mother coolly stated that he was no longer part of their family and to never contact them again.

Three months after the twins were born in 2016 came the finalization of Jensen’s divorce from Danneel, painful but congenial. They easily agreed on joint custody and still spent most holidays together. Jensen gave Dani financial security in their settlement, he wanted to make sure she didn’t have to worry about working again unless she wanted to.

All these years later, Jared continually has nagging thoughts that they had let everybody down. They received support when they publicly came out as bisexual then lost some of it when they married, being mocked for not coming out as gay.

***

There was another knock at the door and Jared ignored it, it was that nurse checking on his lack of progress again. The knock turned into pounding, “Jared, open this door now dammit!” He flinched realizing Jensen knew what was going on with him. Releasing the privacy latch and opening the door a crack he saw concerned green eyes only.

“Sorry, I thought you were that nurse,” he stepped away and sat back down as Jensen came in and re-latching it behind him. “She came to get me when you stopped answering,” Jensen said, walking over to him and started running his thick fingers through his husband’s long hair, “what’s going on babe?”

He glances up knowing that Jensen already knew, “It’s okay Jay, take as long as you need.” He paused at the unpleasant scent wafting around him. “If you’d be more comfortable we could do this at home…” Jared shakes his head, “There’s the risk of damage, contamination and or not able to get it back in time that could make the semen unusable.” Jared quotes from a website.

Jensen softly chuckled, “Nerd.”

Jared notices the bulge in his jeans, “You didn’t...”

“Drain the snake..choke the chicken..spank the monkey.”

“Fuck, okay, you didn’t! Stop using old man slang.” He shook his head smiling at Jensen intentionally goading him.

Jared reached up for the hand playing in his hair, grasping it to draw Jensen down next to him.

“Jack, I don’t want to wait any longer on doing this. I love JJ and the twins, you know I do, but they'll always be yours and Danneels. I know the timing could be better... but I'm almost thirty-eight and I want my..our own pups running around the house driving us crazy.”

“For the next eighteen years?”

“Minimum.”

tbc

Part II

SPN: @donnaintx @lyarr24

GFA: @babypink224221 @waywardjoy @let-me-luve-you @all-4-wincest

Sam/Jared @idreamofplaid

Dean/Jensen: @flamencodiva

#J2 #alpha!jensen ackles x alpha!jared padalecki #jared x jensen #a/b/o #alpha!jensen x alpha!jared x omega!ofc #alpha!jensen ackles #alpha!jared padalecki #a/b/o ofc #Jensen Ackles #Jared Padalecki #spn au #husbands

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ateezmakemeweep · 5 years ago

Note

if you’re not busy, can i pls request a ateez reaction with y/n sketching them out during either sport practice, at the library, park, etc. and they end up seeing it and you get all flustered and shy uwu

❥ kim hongjoong

during free period, there was always one place you could find hongjoong.

you peek your head in the empty music room, the boy’s small frame hunched over the piano as he plays on the keys before scribbling messily on a sheet of paper. you let out a quiet sigh, knowing that this is the only time he has to eat or drink but refuses to spend his free time doing anything else but music.

you walk over silently, greeting him with a small smile as you sit down and push a tray of food in front of him. “please eat it as some point,” you whine as you open your sketchbook, his lowly mumbled “i will,” not at all making you feel confident.

and with good reason because the entire time you draw, he doesn’t stray his attention from the keys or his notebook. and you know this for a fact because you’ve been watching him for the past 30 minutes, sketching the slope of his nose and handsome features of his face before you even realized it.

and much to your luck, when you’re finished up, that’s when hongjoong decides to put down his pencil and stretch his arms in front of him. “what have you been up to?” you hear him ask you, your face snapping up and flushing when he’s looking at you knowingly.

“no-nothing!” you stutter. but before you can slap the book shut, he peeks over and sees the profile of his face, his head lowered and a focused expression sketched in grey, lightly smudged graphite.

“cute,” he mumbles, smiling when your face turns pink and you throw your pencil at his arm.

❥ park seonghwa

you don’t know when you and seonghwa decided to start eating in the library.

it could’ve had something to do with that fact that his and your chaotic friends were too much for both of you, the odds of a food fight or loud bickering back and forth far too common. you both enjoyed the time out of class to be calm and quiet, seonghwa usually reading or playing on his phone while you practiced your sketches or art projects.

today, you were having trouble. you couldn’t quite set the tone of the piece, letting out a quiet groan as you erased marking after marking. you decided to ditch the landscape all together after that, looking around the room to see if anything else sparked some inspiration.

and there it sits in front of you, seonghwa sitting there flipping through the pages of a book. his shoulders were relaxed and his face was pulled into a soft smile, chewing at his food and your pencil started moving before your brain could even keep up.

seonghwa looked up and smiled when he saw you at work, his eyes narrowing as he noticed you had the sketchpad lifted away from him. he waits until the scratches are less frantic, your face less focused as you shade in parts of whatever you drew.

“what’d it end up being?” his deep voice asked you, your head snapping up to look at him. and it’s like the second he sees your face, he knows. because the smirk that crosses his is far too teasing and amused, extending his arm out and looking at you pleadingly. “let me see.”

“no,” you snap, shaking your head as you hold it to your chest - how embarrassing.

“c’mon, baby,” he whines, the term of endearment he throws around like it doesn’t hold so much power making you even more flustered. “let’s see what a good job you did.”

❥ jeong yunho

the substitute in your math class was about as useless as the subject matter.

he assigned you three questions that would take even the most horrific students less than fifteen minutes, insisting that was the work assigned for today and to remain quiet for the rest of class. you roll your eyes as he looks over all of you, making sure no one has there phones out or is trying to pass notes.

you and yunho meet gazes and he looks just as annoyed as you, placing his head down on his arms and shutting his eyes. in the time you’ve put your work away and pulled out your sketchbook, you’re pretty he’s actually fallen asleep. his eyelashes rest on his cheeks and his brow is furrowed every so slightly, your crossed legs turning in your seat as you start to draw the sleeping boy.

class ends just as you start to shade, missing the loud ring of the bell as you focus in on making his face as peaceful and handsome as he looked. a looming figure above you causes you to jump, the model himself now awake and looking down at you with a smirk.

your cheeks flush immediately and he bites his lip to hide his smile from widening, not wanting to embarrass you but also finding it incredibly cute and endearing. you press your lips into a firm line as you close the book immediately, about to blurt out an apology or explanation before he asks if he can walk you to your next class.

❥ kang yeosang

with half of the boys either out to lunch or getting extra help in the library, your lunch table was relatively quiet with only yeosang and jongho present.

you zoned in and out of the boys conversation, speaking up when addressed directly or giggling when jongho insulted yeosang to the point of being smacked. you couldn’t help but admire the older boy’s sweet smile despite his violent acts, his eyes lighting up each and every time a laugh bubbles out of him.

no one catches on to your looks up and down and the scribbling of your pencil until mingi and yunho come through the door, mingi’s hand ruffling your hair before he notices your sketchbook. “whoa!” his voice exclaims, your body stiffening as you try to cover the half-drawn portrait. “that’s so good, y/n! is that yeo-“

“stop!” you squeak, your face pink and heart pounding as you slam the sketchpad shut. everyone but yeosang gives you a strange look, his small smile reassuring you for the rest of the lunch that it was okay.

“can i see it?” he mumbled in your ear when lunch was over, your cheeks still burning as you look up at him with a pout and shake your head in embarrassment. “pleaseee,” he whines, his deep chuckle bringing goosebumps to your skin when you smack him lightly with the book.

❥ choi san

san had planned a picnic for the both of you, sandwiches and fruit and little bars of chocolate filling the wicker basket at your feet.

laid out on the yellow blanket he’d brought, you rested on your stomach sketching him as he throws the tennis ball to your dog a few feet away in the grass. his dimples poked out as the sun shined down on him, your heart fluttering each and every time as you sketched out his handsome face. you giggled watching your dog jump up on san, the boy nearly toppling back as dirt got all over his black shirt.

“i’m sorry,” you said softly when they came back, fishing through the basket for some spare napkins. but with your back turned, you left your book exposed and san’s eyes traveled over the drawing of him. he smiled looking over it, his eyes moving to you just as you turn around. “here you go, that should-“ your words get cut off when you see your sketch is visible, your cheeks flushing when you see him staring down at you.

“i-i’m sorry,” you say again, feeling creepy and weird that you were caught. he rolls his eyes and sits down in front of you, his hand going through a strand of your hair.

“why are you sorry?” he asks with a small smile. he looks back down at the sketch and can’t help but shake his head, insisting he’s not that handsome and then apologizing that he doesn’t really look like that. you let out a scoff, throwing a piece of bread at him that your dog is quick to snatch up.

❥ song mingi

you and mingi had been in the same spot at the empty cafe for hours, studying and finals completely consuming you guys.

you stretch your arms out with a groan, moving your study guide aside to give your pounding head a break. mingi barely looks up from his laptop, working to finish the ten-page essay due tomorrow. it’s with that look of concentration, the light from his laptop softening his face that causes you to draw him.

focusing on the way his hair hangs in his face, the plumpness of his chapped bottom lip and the way his eyes filter back and forth over the screen. you hear his chair scrape against the floor and look up to see him go over the counter, humming to yourself as you start to draw from memory.

a tray smacking against the table causes you to jump, almost scribbling a stray line before you look down and see he got you a chocolate chip cookie. warmth spreads through your chest as look up to thank him, his eyes on the page and a smirk on his face.

“who’s that?” he asks teasingly, watching your face drop and cheeks flush as you bury your face in your hands. he can’t help but chuckle when he hears you groan, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before silently making his way back to the computer.

❥ jung wooyoung

given that wooyoung was usually your ride home, being neighbors and all, you frequently found yourself sitting in the gym watching his basketball practice.

he was like a completely different person when he played, his happy smile and playful demeanor gone as a completive edge and focus overtook him. he stood tall and confident, his exposed arms looking muscular and fit. you can see the blank ink under his rib, biting your lip as you take out your sketchbook and draw out his body and face.

it proves difficult as he keeps bouncing from one side of the court to another but when he’s standing still for about two minutes, his head thrown back as he gulps down water and his adams apple bobs, you know you’re about to get a fairly good sketch.

you clean it up and shade to the best of your ability, only feeling a little bit bothered by the way he starts to sweat and pant heavily. you miss the way he’s been watching you, a smirk on his face as you look down concentrated with your teeth digging into your lip.

“what’re you drawing today?” you hear him ask breathlessly, the white towel slung over his shoulder making you gulp. you shake your head and mumble “nothing,” knowing if he sees it, he’s gonna scream and pinch your cheeks and embarrass you.

he sees the way you get nervous, a smirk crossing his lips as he tries to peak down. “c’mon, y/n, share with the class.” he tries to take the sketchbook out of your hand but you cave in on yourself, closing it as you cover it with your chest and making it even more obvious you were drawing something.

“you’re no fun,” he whines, your eyes narrowing at him because why does have to be so annoyingly hot and when did he even get that tattoo?

❥ choi jongho

with an injury to your ankle but demands from your cheer coach to sit in on practice, you currently sat on the bleachers facing the football field.

you watched your squad practice the moves you’ve been doing since the beginning of the year, letting out an annoyed huff before your eyes move to the football field. particularly on player number eight, the jersey that reads choi every friday night when, more often than not, he scores at least one touchdown.

but now he’s standing on the field with his team members and coach, his arms crossed over his chest as you find yourself itching to reach for your sketchbook. you and the boy are fairly close due to how often you see each other, one of the only nice and respectable jocks in this school.

but even so, you’d be mortified if he saw your book right now. the way you draw his broad shoulders and chest, his arms stretched over them as you bite your lip in concentration and focus in on all the little details you’ve come to notice at parties and after practice.

you’re so focused on sketching and shading and tweaking the boy’s stance and face that you’re completely ignorant of the whistles blowing around you, signaling the boy’s are free to go and walking past the cheerleaders to go down to the locker room.

you jump when you hear your name being called, jongho just a few feet away from you as he walks toward the bleachers. your frantic reaction causes the book to fall from your lap, wincing and blushing when, before you can reach down and grab it, he picks it up for you.

his eyes linger over the drawing for a few seconds, breaths caught in your throat as you feel about ready to explode or burst into tears. but then he only smiles sweetly down at you, turning the page over just as another team member comes up and smacks him on the back.

“what’s that?” you hear the random boy ask, your eyes immediately moving to him.

“nothing,” jongho responds casually, handing the book back to you with a knowing glint in his eyes. “just something that belongs to her.” you stare wide eyed at the boy’s back as he retreats toward the building, finally getting air in your lungs before he ruins it again by turning around and winking at you.

#💌#request #ateez #ateez reactions #this was a cute one🥺

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downwiththeficness · 4 years ago

Text

In the Bond-Chapter 16

Summary: Lilah often wished she’d never said yes to working with the Gecko brothers—usually while dodging gunfire. At no time was she regretting that decision more than when she’s hanging upside down from the ceiling, staring down a group of hungry culebras and one (1) extremely powerful sun god.

Word Count: ~6,100

Warnings: Smut

A/N: This is an AU of my Story In the Blood, which can be read here. Basically, this fic explores what would have happened if Lilah had met up with Geckos before she met Brasa.

Taglist: @symbiont13

Start from the beginning Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Read on AO3 Masterlist

Lilah woke unwillingly. Rolling over, she scrubbed at her eyes, still swollen from crying herself to sleep. Brasa had held her closely as they drove away from a home Lilah wasn’t sure she would ever return to. She’d managed to hold her tears for about ten minutes, and then her will had given out.

In her state, Lilah could be forgiven for how long it had taken her to notice that they weren’t on course for Brasa’s bar. When she’d asked where they were going, Brasa had simply said, ‘home’.

‘Home’ was quite literally carved into solid stone. Accessible through an elevator hidden cleverly in a low rock formation. It opened into a completely dark corridor. Lilah let Brasa lead her by the hand into the darkness, looking back only once to catch Javier reaching down to close the doors to the elevator carriage, shutting out the only light.

Blind, Lilah’s step had faltered. Brasa took it in stride, wrapping an arm around her and acting as her guide. They reached a door, which opened to… ‘home’. It was, she supposed, average in size, though she hadn’t paid much attention to the architecture. Brasa had cosetted her in yet another deliciously comfortable bed and she had spent the rest of the afternoon and evening putting off Brasa’s questions regarding her well being.

To be fair, Lilah hadn’t known how she felt the night previous. She still wasn’t sure how she felt. Her emotions wavered between indignation and deep depression, both of which made her head ache. She pushed the covers back and swung her legs over the edge of the bed.

Padding quietly to the bathroom by the illumination of a small nightlight shining near the door of the bedroom, Lilah went through the motions of cleaning herself up. No stranger to a rough night, she was unsurprised to find shadows beneath her eyes and her hair in disarray. A quick look in the vanity drawers found a comb that the used to gingerly comb out the tangles.

After washing her face, Lilah made her way to the bedroom door, peering out into the hallway. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, she tip toed towards the living room. In the few moments that she’d spent standing at the threshold, waiting for Brasa to shrug off his coat and hang it up, she’d noticed how sumptuous the furniture was—an overstuffed couch, soft carpets, dark and heavy woods. Everything was all rich fabric and soft textures. And yet, it was strangely bare. No pictures, no art, no...personality.

As she made her way deeper into the house, Lilah came upon Brasa sitting in the plush chair, a book in his hand. Head bent over the pages, he looked...so completely normal that she had to blink a few times to make sure that it was, indeed, him.

Sensing her approach, he looked up, eyes assessing, “How did you sleep?”

Lilah watched as he closed the book, setting it aside, She watched as he stood and approached. She watched as he became more concerned as she failed to respond. He grasped her above the elbows, head dipping to catch her eyes. Lilah couldn’t hold the gaze, and felt ridiculous for it.

“You should eat,” he pronounced, turning her and leading her gently through a set of double doors to a small, intimate dining room.

He bade her to sit, moving past the room and through to the kitchen. Lilah leaned her elbows on the table, resting her head in her palms as she waited. Drowsy from too much sleep, she blinked lazily into the middle distance, until movement in her periphery caught her attention.

Brasa approached, a plate in one hand, a glass of water in the other. He placed both before her, nudging the plate when she hesitated. Lilah looked down at what he made, a small chuckle sounding from low in her throat. Eggs in a basket. Toads in a hole. He’d remembered.

Charmed, and more than a little grateful, Lilah picked up the fork and cut into the edge of the toast, nicking the egg yolk. As she chewed, she glanced over at Brasa, who was watching her. Though his posture was relaxed, there was a sharp light in his eyes that signaled he was studying her carefully.

“He will change his mind,” he said casually, gesturing smoothly with one hand.

Lilah paused, swallowing, “What?”

Brasa smiled, “Seth. He will change his mind.”

Eyes falling to her plate, Lilah busied herself with cutting into the second piece of toast, “You know that?”

“I do,” he answered.

“How?”

He shrugged, “I’m old.”

“You’ve mentioned.”

With a smile, he countered, “Old enough to know how men like Seth think. He’ll be mad for a while, but if he cares for you—and I think he does—he will come around.”

Lilah sighed and leaned back into her chair, “I’m so mad at him.”

Brasa nodded, saying nothing, waiting for her to continue. She looked to the ceiling, trying to gather her thoughts, to sort her emotions in a way that made any kind of sense.

“I know he’s struggling to accept…” she gestured broadly, “All of this. I mean, I’m still trying to accept it. But...the way he treated me, like a…”

Lilah stopped, ‘kid sister’ sitting like lead on her tongue. Her eyes closed as the implications of her own thoughts sunk in. He’d treated her just like a kid sister, an annoying kid sister that didn’t know what they were doing. And, somehow, that made her feel worse.

Sensing her unease, Brasa leaned forward and touched her hand, brushing his fingers over the back, “As I said. He will get over it.”

Casting him a sorrowful look, she murmured, “I hope so. We’re friends, you know?”

“I know.”

“And,” she continued, turning her hand over to thread her fingers through his, “I still want to be friends.”

He nodded, giving her hand a squeeze before picking up her plate and taking it to the kitchen. Lilah fiddled with her glass in a kind of soft resignation. This would have to play out however it was going to. Pushing the issue wasn’t going to make things better. Neither was dwelling on it. Still, she gave herself permission to feel sad for a while. That seemed fair.

Brasa returned and held out a hand to her, which she took. They walked amiably back to the living room where he sat her down on the couch and handed her the remote.

“I have some work to do,” he explained, leaning down to press a kiss to the crown of her head, “It’ll take a few hours. Then, we’ll decide what to do for the evening.”

Lilah spent maybe half an hour scrolling through the many streaming services that were on the top menu of the TV, amazed that Brasa had gotten so fully up to speed on modern entertainment. Furtively, she glanced through some of his watch history, smiling when she noted that he’d made it all the way through every season of House and, oddly enough, had recently watched The Princess Bride.

Eventually, she settled on restarting Drunk History from the beginning. Prior to signing on with the Gecko brothers, she’d watched a few episodes a month in her down time. There were always TVs on in the bar, so she’d never thought to purchase one for her room. Now seemed a good time for some comfort.

Brasa had been right when he’d said that his work would take a few hours. Lunchtime came and went, Lilah making her way to the kitchen and finding that he’d stocked it with some basic staples. They were going to have to take a shopping trip, though. The man had eggs, bread, a bag of various fruits, and a jug of milk. Her guess was that he’d googled basic foodstuffs and had run with it.

After eating her meal perched over the sink, Lilah washed her dishes and returned to the couch to start the next season. That was where Brasa found her, half asleep, stretched out over the cushions. He smiled as he approached, reaching down to lift her legs and sit, draping her feet over his lap.

“Done for the day?”

He shrugged, “In one manner of speaking.”

“What does that mean?”

Another shrug, “Benny’s following has grown again. We think he’s turning a few humans a week.”

Her brows came together, “What does that mean for you?”

Brasa took a few seconds to think about it, his fingers drawing little circles over the sensitive skin of her ankle, “It means that he is likely going to resort to violence, and soon.”

Lilah felt her muscles tense, a kind of latent anxiety rolling along her body, “How do we prevent it?”

Looking at her, his expression was soft, but sure, “I don’t think we can.”

She sat up, disbelieving, “Why not?”

Turning a little bit so that he could prop his arm up on the back of the couch, Brasa explained, “Men like this…there is only one thing that checks them, and I promised you that I would look at other options. He wants blood, will be satisfied by nothing else.”

Lilah pulled her legs up and under her body, folding her hands in her lap, “We can talk to him, right?”

“We tried that.”

“For like two seconds,” she countered, her anxiety melting into frustration, “There has to be a way. Nobody has to die for this.”

Head tilting to the side, he said, “When has, essentially, a coup, ever not resulted in bloodshed?”

Lilah rolled her eyes, “This isn’t a coup. Its...an administrative change.”

Brasa shot her a look that very clearly said that she was bullshitting, “In their eyes, I have taken away their way of life. You know this.”

She shook her head, “You’re giving them a better life. A life where they’re not hiding in the dark, picking off humans, and running from local hunters.”

“Some don’t see it that way.”

There was a kind of finality in his tone, a tension borne of having had this argument over and over with different people. Lilah sighed and wriggled deeper into the couch, feeling not a little bit petulant.

Brasa reached over and took her hand in a loose grasp, “This is not the first time I’ve brokered peace—did so just recently with the most stubborn people I’ve ever met, if you’ll recall.”

She laughed, “Yeah. There were a couple times I almost threw something at one or all of you during those meetings.”

One side of his mouth quirked up, “I could tell. You do not hide your feelings well.”

“Um, excuse me, I think I do,” Lilah shot back.

The little quirk in his mouth widened to a smile, “You do not. At least, not from me.”

Again, she rolled her eyes, “That’s because of the bond.”

He hummed in the negative, “You have a very expressive face.”

Lilah scoffed, “I have an excellent poker face.”

This earn her a low chuckle, “You do not.”

“I was able to keep the bond a secret for months.”

Brasa leaned into her space, his hand running up the length of her arm to settle behind her neck, “Richie knew within seconds of seeing you the night we met. And Seth’s powers of perception are mediocre, at best.”

Lilah was not too proud to admit that she was a little dazed at how close they were, coffee and caramel filling her senses. He’d given her a lot of space over the last twenty four hours—she wasn’t even sure where he’d slept. She found herself yearning to crawl right into his lap and stay there for the rest of the night, and some part of her figured that he’d probably let her.

But, while he’d been working, she’d been thinking. And, the first order of business was to get some food that would make more than one kind of meal in the house.

“We need to go shopping,” she said, smiling when he tilted his head to the side in confusion, “Groceries. We need them—well, I need them.”

Brasa gave a curt nod, rising and pulling her to standing, “Do you want to go now?”

Knowing that she looked pretty fucking bad, Lilah shook her head, “Let me get cleaned up. I’ll be out in about forty minutes.”

She took her time with getting ready, making sure that she washed every inch of skin, shampooed and conditioned her hair, covered her dark circles, and put on some fresh, clean clothes. As she dug into her bag for socks, her phone and the case for her comm fell out. She touched them gingerly, noting that there was no service and that the comm was redundant, given that she didn’t have anyone to connect with. She tucked both away.

In the end, it took a little longer than forty minutes, but Brasa didn’t seem to mind. When she emerged from the bedroom, he was lounging on the couch, CSPAN playing on the TV.

Lilah’s eyes narrowed, “Why are you watching this?”

His eyes scanned her lazily, taking her in, “You didn’t think my entire business was in medical supplies, did you?”

She shrugged, “We never discussed it in detail.”

Reaching for the remote, he turned off the TV and stood, “I like a diverse portfolio. Keeps things stable across the board.”

Lilah knew nothing about stocks, and even less about portfolios, “I’m sure that’s a good strategy.”

“It can be, though some people prefer a more adventurous technique.”

She moved towards the door, looking over her shoulder at him, “But, not you.”

He followed, “No.”

That tracked. Every decision Lilah had ever seen him make was calculated with brutal efficiency. Brasa did nothing by halves, nor did he make impulsive decisions. It was one of the things that Lilah liked most about him.

The hall was dark as it had been the day before, a chilling lack of light—except for a small triangle in the distance, the illumination so dull that it almost didn’t look real. As before, Brasa took her hand, leading her. As before, she went willingly. Unlike before, Lilah was alert enough to ask questions.

“What is this place?”

Brasa’s voice sounded next to her, “I’ve already told you.”

“Yeah, but what is it?”

They neared the light, and it was cast in shadow for a moment as Brasa pressed the button, “I needed a more secure place, a place to allow myself true rest. A place where I could keep you safe, when the time came.”

Leaning into his side, she asked, “Because of Benny?”

Though she couldn’t see him, Lilah felt him shake his head, “I have lived a life of nearly total violence. That comes with a cost.”

And, here they were, back to the same conversation they’d had at least twice before. Her safety. Her weakness. Her humanity—though, not her mortality.

“You think I’m safer underground?”

The doors opened and Brasa ushered her inside, “Only Javier and I—and now, you—know about it. It is secret.”

She smirked at him, “I’ve always wanted a secret hideout.”

He returned her mirth, “I live to serve.”

They held hands all the way to the surface and up until Brasa helped her up and into an SUV that was hidden in what basically amounted to a hollowed out rock. Lilah had to hand it to them. If she hadn’t known that this was here, she would have never guessed. There was literally no indication that the formations were anything but rocks, once all the entrances were closed.

She looked up a local store and they headed out, guided by the navigation in the dash. As they drove, Lilah drew up a list on her phone, having memorized her standard grocery order long ago. To it, she added a few items that she might not otherwise pick up, telling herself that she deserved a treat or two after the emotional fallout of her confrontation with Seth. She also decided that she was going to pick up a few bottles of wine.

Lilah had to admit that she never once thought about what it would be like to see Brasa in such a mundane setting. She doubted that he did his own shopping, what with Javier taking care of most menial tasks. Now, she was watching him step through the automatic doors of a local supermarket, his head turning to glance at her for direction.

It was surreal. Truly surreal. Lilah had the insane urge to laugh as she looked from him to the milling crowd that parted around him. She caught a few curious glances from them, even further amused that Brasa seemed to take no notice.

Shaking herself from her thoughts, Lilah took his arm and led him to the shopping carts, pulling one from the long line and taking a moment to study the layout of the store. Tall shelves were lined one after another, stocked full with wares. Veering to the left, she headed for the bins of fresh fruits and vegetables.

Lilah was intimately aware of the way Brasa observed her going from bin to bin, picking out one or two and setting in the cart. He gave her space, but paid attention to how she chose her wares. Lilah mostly ignored him, focusing on trying to get enough to last her at least a few days.

As they passed the dairy aisle, Brasa finally said, “Things have moved...so quickly in the last few hundred years.”

She was leaning down to pick up an extra carton of eggs when he spoke, her head turning awkwardly to look at him, “What does that mean?”

He pushed his hands into his pockets, giving a shrug, “Advancements that would have taken a millennia several thousand years ago now happen in a hundred.”

Putting the eggs in the cart, Lilah thought about it for a moment, moving slowly towards the canned food, “I suppose you’re right.”

“I am,” he pronounced, smug.

She scoffed, pulling cans off the shelf to stock the small pantry behind the kitchen. Her voice, when it came, was tinged with a tease, “I’m an ancient vampire, I’m so smart, and I’ve seen everything.”

His laugh was soft, but genuinely amused, his chin dipping down towards his chest in a movement that was nothing short of demure. If Lilah were just some anonymous person in this store, if she were looking at him for the first time in that moment, her breath would have caught—as it was now—and she would have scurried away feeling so completely embarrassed at finding a total stranger so endearing.

As it was, she wasn’t anonymous. He very much knew her, a thought that would have been no less than frightening a year ago. Lilah felt no such fear now, only warmth that unfurled comfortably in her chest.

Brasa steered her down an aisle, gesturing at a shelf full of Gatorade, “Javier has sent me four texts reminding me that you will need this.”

Mouth open, Lilah stared at him in confusion for several seconds, “I will?”

He nodded, “Javier is adamant that I keep this in stock. He says you prefer the red color.”

Agog, Lilah asked, “How the fuck does he know that?”

Brasa cast her a look that said she should know the answer to that question. Javier might be quiet and unassuming, but he was better than the FBI at finding out the minutiae of people’s lives.

“Okay,” Lilah relented, “He’s right, but I don’t know why you would need to keep it on hand. Its not like I’ll need to constantly replenish my—oh.”

Without another word, Lilah leaned down and picked up two packs, setting them in the cart. She lost her battle to keep the nervous laugh at bay when she glanced at Brasa’s smirking face. He wasn’t even trying to hide the satisfaction in his expression. To give herself something to do other than smile stupidly, she turned her attention to navigating to the check out.

Brasa was quietly helpful in loading the groceries onto the conveyor, and Lilah didn’t miss how he maneuvered around her to pay before she could get her card out of her pocket. Casting him a knowing smile, Lilah moved past him, hands briefly touching his hips so that she could slide out from between the partitions to load the cart.

A few minutes later, she was pushing it out into the warm, humid night, and towards where he’d parked the SUV. A few more minutes, and they were making their way back to what she was going to continually call the ‘secret hideout’. The title brought a small, ‘secret smile’ to her lips.

As they pulled to a stop, that small smile turned into a grin. She looked to Brasa, “You’re about to be witness to an ancient human custom, going back at least a century.”

Head cocked to the side, Brasa looked at her in confusion, “I believe I am aware of most human customs, ancient or otherwise.”

Rolling her eyes, Lilah hopped out of the car and made her away around to the trunk, pushing the button to initiate the automatic open. She’d only picked out enough food to last for the week she promised him when he’d been negotiating her stay. Lilah was not going to think about how she likely would have to extend her stay indefinitely.

Lilah reached down and looped a few bags over her arm, “So it goes like this: No matter how much you buy, you never, ever, take more than one trip to get it in the house.”

Brasa looked at her arm, laden with bags, and back to the rest, his brow rising, “I...was not aware of this custom.”

She fixed him with a serious look, “Its a very important tradition.”

A little crease formed between his brows as he studied the bags they had left. Lilah swallowed the laugh that threatened to break the whole act apart, and hefted a few more onto her free arm. Brasa looked at what she carried, then leaned in and snagged the rest, hoisting them effortlessly in one arm.

She stared at him, chastising herself for forgetting how powerful he really was. She chastised herself further when she stayed right where she was as he reached up, closed the trunk, and tugged one of her arms free of the bags. It wasn’t until she was looking at his back as he opened the door to the elevator that she was able to make her feet move.

As they made the descent, Brasa shifted the bags to one arm and took her hand, turning it over to see how the bags had made little creases in her skin in the short time before he’d taken the load.

“I don’t understand this tradition,” he muttered, thumb rubbing at her palm.

Lilah smirked, “You don’t have to understand it to be a part of it.”

His eyes lifted from where they were studying her skin, “You are right. Some things just are.”

She had the distinct feeling that he wasn’t talking about defeating the grocery bag challenge. The weight behind his gaze made that place in the back of her mind flare up, the bond almost stinging her. Reflexively, her fingers curled, wrapping around his thumb.

There was a clinical ‘ding’ and the doors opened. Adjusting his grip, Brasa led her into the hall and to the door. A few taps, and the door opened. They carried the bags into the kitchen and Lilah took her time figuring out where to put everything.

As she was standing in the middle of the kitchen with a small bag of potatoes, Brasa’s phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket, held up a finger, and stepped from the room. She looked at the place where he’d been for a few seconds before shaking herself to attention. The potatoes could stay on the counter.

It was then that her stomach reminded her that she hadn’t eaten in several hours. With new food to choose from, she found herself a little bit at a loss as to what to make. In his kitchen, bare save for the food and the tools she needed to cook it with, she again longed for comfort. Broccoli cheese soup, it was.

With renewed purpose, Lilah began assembling the ingredients and putting a pot on the burner. She hadn’t made this particular recipe since high school, when she was still living with a family that she hadn’t talked to in years. Her hand on the knife paused as she took that in.

When she was running dangerous jobs for shady people, she had deliberately cut them off in fear for their safety. Now, she knew she could definitely never rekindle that relationship. What would happen in ten years, twenty, fifty, when she didn’t age, when she didn’t die?

Sniffing, she set her mind to cutting the broccoli florets into one inch pieces. There was no need to deepen the emotional anguish she’d experienced this week. She could do that at another time. Just to be safe, she opened a bottle of wine and left it and the glass on the counter to breathe.

As she was preparing to stir in the cheese to thicken the broth, Brasa returned. He leaned against the counter to watch her cook, arms crossed.

“Work?” she questioned lightly.

He gave a nod, “Javier worries.”

She hummed, glancing over her shoulder at him, “And?”

Pushing from the counter, he touched the small of her back. His hand traveled around her waist to rest just below her belly button. Lilah leaned into him, her head tilting to the side so that he could lay his chin on her shoulder. She relaxed into his hold, stirring slowly, in no hurry to move. Eventually, the soup thickened up as it was supposed to, and she reached up to turn the burner off.

Brasa already had a bowl ready for her, a spoon in his other hand. Lilah took it with a grateful nod and ladled a serving for herself. Rather than sit at the dining room table, Lilah hopped up onto the counter and spooned some into her mouth.

“You going to answer my question?”

His eyes dropped, though his mouth quirked in amusement, “He thinks we should be more aggressive with Benny.”

Lilah waved her spoon at him, indicating that he should continue.

“I find myself wondering if I should follow that advice.”

“Why?”

He sighed, his shoulders slumping, “His numbers grow along with the recklessness of his actions. He attacked a hotel last night, slaughtered the guests and staff. The police are investigating.”

Swinging one leg, Lilah asked, “You can’t buy them, bribe them to close the investigation?”

“We are working on that. The police chief is...remarkably stubborn about policy. Javier wants to eat him.”

She should not have laughed, but the thought of the prim and dapper Javier ripping the throat out of a police officer did not mesh together. He’d be too worried that he’d get blood on his suit.

When she finished, Lilah slipped down from the counter and rinsed out the bowl, setting it in the sink to clean later, “You want to watch a movie?”

“I could do that.”

“Cool,” she replied, already heading for the living room, grabbing the bottle of wine she’d opened along with the glass, “Where do you keep your extra blankets?”

She picked the softest, fluffiest one of the bunch and threw it over them both as they sat next to each other on the couch. Wine glass in hand, Lilah flicked through the streaming channels, already knowing which selection she was going to make.

His hand on her thigh, Brasa settled deeper into the cushion, letting out a light chuckle as she hit play, “I like this one.”

“Me, too,” she said, shifting so that she could lay her head on his shoulder.

Warm, full, and comfortable, Lilah found herself drifting even as Princess Buttercup argued with the Dread Pirate Roberts. The familiarity of Brasa’s scent wrapped around her and the story on the screen made everything inside her loosen for the first time since she’d left behind an angry Seth—well, that and two glasses of excellent wine.

By the time the credits rolled, Brasa had leaned back into the arm of the couch, pulling Lilah down to lay atop him. Her body pressed against his, Lilah soaked up his unnatural warmth. His arms held her loosely, but his hands were firm on her back and hip.

Lilah pushed up on her hands, looking down at him, “Thanks for bringing me here.”

“Of course,” he said, a little too quickly, “Of course.”

She smiled, dropping to an elbow and kissing him. Intending it to be a sort of ‘thank you’, Lilah started to pull away only to feel Brasa cup the back of her neck and hold her in place as he twined his tongue with hers. He warmed beneath her, burning hot, body arching. Lilah pulled her knees up underneath her, balancing on one hand so that she could run the other down the front of his shirt to pull it from where he had it tucked into his slacks.

He lifted his hips when she moved around to the back, his own hands roaming over her jean clad legs, pulling on each so that she sat astride him. And then, in a move she could have never accomplished on her own, he swung his legs over the edge of the couch and stood. Her ankles crossed to anchor her body on his hips, her hands grasping frantically to clasp the back of his neck. Lilah laughed as he kissed her cheek, her neck, her shoulder, all the while moving towards the bedroom.

He laid her carefully on the bed and systematically undressed her. Shoes, socks, jeans, underwear, shirt, bra—everything was peeled off without ceremony, without patience. Lilah was stripped bare before her brain caught up to the fact that this was actually going to happen. And then he was crawling over her, his mouth sealing over hers.

He kissed her like he was starved, as if he might never kiss her again. Deep, unrelenting kisses that left her gasping beneath him. She reached up to to get at the buttons of his shirt, managing to get one or two free before he was moving down her body, nuzzling the skin between her breasts. Thumbs circling her nipples, he drew one into his mouth, releasing it with a wet sound. He licked at her biting down gently, and laving the spot with his tongue.

Shifting a little to the side, Brasa pulled her knee up and around his waist, fingers drifting so that he could run them up the length of her slit. She keened, spine arching up so far that her shoulders lifted off the mattress. Her skin was seared where they touched, sizzling with sensation that only seemed to grow. He massaged her in wide circles, the pad of his forefinger brushing over her opening.

Rubbing his cheek against her, Brasa moved steadily downwards, kissing and sucking and nipping until he rested between her spread thighs. If Lilah had any thought that he would ease into it, those thoughts were shattered by one long, enthusiastic lick. Sighing into the motion, he sucked at her folds, emitting a contented growl when her legs tightened around his shoulders.

He held her open, wedging his massive body into her hips until her inner thighs ached with the strain. Lilah was beyond caring, her fingers digging into the pillow beneath her as she rose higher and higher towards orgasm. There was no teasing, no drawing this out. Brasa worked with a singular purpose, tongue swirling around her clit, hands holding her up to his mouth.

She grit her teeth, the need so vast and deep that it became a vibrant pain, soothed only by his touch. It tunneled down deep into her bones, sticking in her throat when she cried out, the spasms raking over her voice so that it came out hoarse and rasping.

Lilah breathed forcefully, eyes squeezed shut as he worked her through it, easing up when she shook, too sensitive. When she was able to look down at him, he was rolling his tongue over his lips, eyes focused on where she was still fluttering sporadically. Her mouth went dry at the sight, the hunger that he wasn’t even attempting to veil.

The hand on her hip rotated, and she felt him push two fingers inside her, the motion sending little frissons of electricity over the nerve endings. She shivered. He smiled, fangs peeking out. Then, he brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean, black gaze watching her reaction. Lilah bit her lip, giving up totally on controlling her breathing.

He kissed his way up her body, settling atop her. Lilah pulled him even closer, yanking at the buttons of his shirt. It was nearly impossible to focus when he was kissing her, hands turning her head so that he could nuzzle against her neck, inhaling. She gave herself some credit. She got his shirt unbuttoned and halfway down his arms before she got distracted by a particularly hard nip just above her collarbone.

Hissing, she pulled him up, trying to gain a little leverage to push him over onto his back. Lilah was not successful. He held her down, smirking when she made a small sound of frustration.

“I want,” she started, a whine cutting off the rest of the words.

Brasa caught her hands, holding them down onto the mattress with almost his full weight, “What is it?”

Oh, now he wants to tease, she thought.

“Is this what you want?” His hips swiveled in a slow, firm grind, “I’ll give it to you, if its what you want, querida.”

Lilah moaned, writhing beneath him, desperate to get the friction she needed. She was close, close enough that she was willing to forgo any sense of pride to get there.

“Yes, yes,” she breathed, head thrown back as he rolled his hips against her.

He let go of one of her wrists, and she felt him reach down and open the fly of his slacks. Lifting off just enough to kick off the offending material, Brasa laid back down, gathering her to him. The next kiss was venom soaked, sweet and hot. Lilah groaned, pushing her hips into him, needing to feel him inside her.

Brasa slid in to the hilt in one strong, fluid motion that filled the emptiness inside Lilah completely. Her breath stuttered in her lungs, her legs lifting to accommodate him. He was so fucking hot—his mouth, his body, his cock. Sweat pooled in the hollows and bend of her limbs, darkening the hair at her temple. She gripped his shoulders, pulled on the shirt he still wore, caught by the buttons on his cuffs.

And then he was moving. The sound of his cock pushing into her wet body, the feeling of him both easing and stirring the blooming ache of her arousal, the way he ground out a helpless sound against her neck. It all meshed together, overwhelming her until she could do nothing but hold on as he fucked her.

The pleasure grew inside her, reaching into every inch of her body. She wailed, head thrown back, fingers fisted in his hair. Spurred on, his pace picked up, breath punching out of him when she raked her nails up his back. It took very little to push her the rest of the way over the edge, the feeling spiraling through her.

Brasa’s grip on her tightened as he thrust into her one last time, his spine arched, lips pulled back from his fangs. She could feel him pulsing, could feel every reflexive spasm as he came.

When his strength returned, Brasa rolled gingerly off her, his large hand tracing down the center of her body to rest heavily on her belly. She grasped it, holding him by the wrist as she caught her breath. Lilah looked over at him, smiling at the fact that he was still wearing that shirt, though she’d torn the collar and it was wrinkled beyond nearly all recognition.

Her fingers touched the tear, “That’s going to be a difficult one to explain to the dry cleaner.”

Brasa smirked as he unbuttoned the cuffs around each wrist, “I may keep it like this.”

Lilah’s brows lifted, “Like a memento?”

He hummed in confirmation.

“I didn’t realize you were so sentimental.”

Throwing the shirt off the side of the bed, Brasa laid on his side, observing her from where he’d perched his head on his palm, “I am not, generally. But, with you…” He trailed off as he leaned down and kissed her softly.

#from dusk til dawn #from dusk til dawn: the series #Brasa #In the Bond

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gukyi · 5 years ago

Text

for you, anything | ksj

summary: in the popular online multiplayer game, kingdom, you are the top-ranked knight with money, fame, and power. in real life, you’re a graphic design geek who’s got a very unsubtle crush on her gorgeous coworker, kim seokjin. but when you’re suddenly dethroned from the first place spot in your game, you and your kingdom character embark on a journey to reclaim your title, and learn on the way that things are not always as they seem.

{friends to lovers!au, enemies to lovers!au}

pairing: kim seokjin x female reader genre: fluff, comedy, fantasy word count: 21k warnings: alcohol mention, brief and non-graphic descriptions of violence, this is basically two fics in one so you get double the fun and double the word count!! a/n: once again, a massive, massive thank you to @aurawatercolor for commissioning me!! you can find her on twitter as well under @btspresso_!! she’s the genius behind this enemies to lovers and friends to lovers seokjin fic wrapped up into a nice package just in time for the holidays!! you ever seen a fic with e2l and f2l together? that’s right, i didn’t think so. enjoy!!!

check out the post-script drabble here!

♚ HERE ♚

“Oh, shit!”

From twelve feet away comes the sound of these three things in this order: fingers furiously mashing keyboard keys, wheels of an office chair swiveling angrily on the linoleum floor, and a war cry. All of which could either belong to a video game world championships in a big-city stadium or your simple, office of two-floors in a more-than-one-hundred-stories skyscraper based in graphic design and media for small start-up companies.

“I can’t tell if Photoshop crashed again or if you’re playing that weird online multiplayer game again,” Yoongi grumbles from across the way, where he’s gnawing on a Clif bar in one hand as he mindlessly taps his mouse with the other.

“Please,” Jimin says, carelessly waving a hand. “Don’t act like I haven’t caught you watching My Hero Academia multiple times this year while we were supposed to be doing work, you absolute piece of toast. But if you must know, I was in fact playing Kingdom.”

“I’m going to tell Namjoon,” Yoongi says with zero emphasis, because everybody knows that Namjoon’s got dirt on everybody in the office anyway (including Yoongi) and that if you try to expose somebody else to him, he’ll expose you back. It’s colleague culture.

“And what’s Namjoon gonna do? He already knows you carry a flash drive of illegally-downloaded animes with you wherever you go,” Jimin retorts casually. He’s not wrong, and you can confirm that Yoongi indeed carts around a USB drive in the shape of a pineapple that has 64GB of anime.

“What do I know?”

Namjoon comes trotting into view from the corridor that leads to the gender-neutral bathrooms with glasses hanging from the collar of his sweater vest, a clipboard with nothing attached to it in his right hand, and a steaming cup of jasmine tea (he hates coffee and declares this publicly at least three times a day) in his left.

“You know that Yoongi—”

“Has been doing his work the whole time you were in the bathroom so you don’t need to worry about him,” Yoongi interrupts quickly.

Namjoon shoots both Jimin and Yoongi a suspicious glare, but moves on. He’s got enough blackmail on the both of them to bury them into the next calendar year, but he’s wise, and he only uses it when absolutely necessary. “Just doing checkups on you guys before Boss Man calls me back into his office and gives me a pile of over one hundred hours of work I’m supposed to do in a forty-hour work week.” It’s been obvious from the moment you were hired that Namjoon does the most work out of anybody in this office, including your boss, and gets very, very little from it.

“You don’t even have any paper attached to your clipboard,” Taehyung points out rather unhelpfully, from where he’s been drawing hearts on the cheeks of the Surprised Pikachu meme he’s taped up on the wall his desk is pushed up against.

Namjoon looks down at his clipboard like it just spit mad fire at him, furrows his brows, and lets out a sigh equivalent to three years worth of pent-up aggression. “Shit.”

Jimin cackles from his computer.

“Whatever, I’m still going to do checkups.” Namjoon takes the pen from behind his ear and writes himself a note, presumably to get paper for his clipboard later. “Jimin, you’re still working on that website layout for the art critic and photographer. Yoongi’s on coding for that search engine that we all know is never taking off but is still paying us. Taehyung’s on marketing because he’s got the most charming voice and Hoseok and Jungkook are on media production for the indie movie company. Y/N and Seokjin, you guys are on clientele and coding. Everybody good before I go get more paper?”

“Yes, Tiny but Large Boss Man,” Jimin says, and it’s enough of a confirmation to send Namjoon scurrying down the corridor again in search of paper as everyone else returns to their prior business.

“Y/N?”

You turn around from the font website you’ve been browsing for about half an hour to find Seokjin standing behind you, an earpiece in his ear and that charming smile on his face. It’s the same smile he gave you on your first day on the job when he was introducing himself, same smile he gives when he meets clients in person, same smile he gives Namjoon whenever the man is about to have a breakdown. It’s a friendly, personable-but-universal kind of smile. The kind models need. The kind that Seokjin has mastered.

“Hey, Seokjin,” you say, only just then coming to realize that Seokjin is much closer to you than his voice originally implied. You’ve rotated 180 degrees in your office chair and he is hardly a foot away from where your feet are. It’s a lot. Seokjin is always a lot. In the best sort of way. “Is anything the matter?”

“No, just wanted to check in and see how the project was going for that one guy that wanted a nice advertisement to put on Angie’s List,” Seokjin says, leaning down to look at what you’ve been doing.

“Oh, well I’ve been browsing this font website for ages and I still can’t find a nice one for the sub-heading. All of these are too flashy or difficult to read,” you say, beginning to scroll as you and Seokjin both look for one that you like.

“Hmm, I see what you mean,” his voice sounds like honey and if you had any less dignity you’d let the chills send shivers down your spine. Luckily, you know how to maintain your composure in an office setting. And you also know that Yoongi and Jungkook would never let you hear the end of it, ever. “Oh, how about that one?”

“This one? Rose Quartz?” You ask, pointing to it.

“Yeah,” Seokjin says. “It has a nice flair that matches with the font for the business name, but it’s still easy to read. It would probably look really nice with a crisp shadow behind it, don’t you think?”

“Maybe you’re onto something,” you say, clicking to read the fair use and copyright.

“Couldn’t have done it without all the hard work you’ve put into this,” Seokjin says, standing up and shooting you another one of his famous smiles. “You’re the best partner anybody in this tiny media production and design company could ask for.”

He leaves without bidding you farewell, but it’s enough to have you staring blankly at your computer, contemplating existence itself. Sometimes, a little part of you wonders if Seokjin only treats you like this and none of your other coworkers, but then you immediately remember that Seokjin is naturally charming and that he probably speaks to newborn babies in the same way.

Yoongi wheels over to your desk from where his is, smirk lacing his features as he chews on another, different-colored Clif bar.

“Ever heard of a personal bubble?” You ask snarkily, because you already know why he’s over here, and so does he.

“Why aren’t you asking the same question to Seokjin, hmm?” Yoongi taunts. He’s know about your dumb crush on your coworker (of all people, your coworker! A fellow employee!) for months now. He isn’t being any more helpful whatsoever.

“Go watch your pirated anime,” you grunt out, too overwhelmed with the way Seokjin smiles at you to really give Yoongi your full attention. “I have nothing to say to you.”

“Sure, but I’m not Seokjin,” Yoongi says. Then he wheels away and you’re left staring at the Rose Quartz font, whose sample text reads: This was meant to be.

At least Namjoon doesn’t know.

It’s midnight on a Tuesday, and you’re just about to turn off the lamp on your bedside table and get some well deserved weekday-night shut eye when your phone begins to blare, a disgustingly ugly picture of Jungkook’s face appearing on the screen.

You stare at your phone like it’s personally offending you (which, if Jungkook’s face is anything to go by, it definitely is) before you turn off your ringer and close your eyes. Jungkook can wait. Very seldom is he at the top of your list of priorities.

Barely five seconds after you’ve put your head on your pillow, your phone begins to vibrate, this time even angrier than the last. Aggravated and a little concerned—because Jungkook never, ever calls twice—you pick up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Y/N! Something crazy just happened!”

“I hope so, otherwise you wouldn’t be calling me at midnight on a work night,” you grumble into the phone, monotonous voice a stark contrast to Jungkook’s easily excitable one.

“Have you been on Kingdom recently?!” Jungkook asks, and you practically see his eyes bulging out of his head in front of you. One of your youngest coworkers, it’s moments like these that remind you why he bears a striking resemblance to a university student—up late playing video games even on a work night—despite having a couple years in the workforce under his belt. He keeps telling you that he wants to go back to school and get a Masters in something, but he isn’t sure what yet.

“No,” you tell him like it’s obvious, because it is. You typically begin to wind down your night around ten, which means that anything that’s happened on Kingdom in the past two hours you are thoroughly unaware of. “Can’t this wait? Kingdom’s fun and all, but I really do need to sleep.”

“But Y/N,” Jungkook says with a whine, insisting that you stay on the line, “someone beat you! You’re rank two, now.”

If Jungkook’s loud voice and jumpy attitude didn’t wake you before, you’re certainly wide awake now.

“What?” You ask, shocked. “Just now?”

“Yeah, like fifteen minutes ago! I don’t know what happened,” Jungkook says sadly, lost. “I was dueling with another knight when the horns and banners appeared on the screen and said there was a new top player. You’ve been dethroned!” He cries out like it’s him who’s lost their place.

You’re fumbling out of bed, making a beeline for your desktop computer across your bedroom. Normally, you’d be ashamed about how high-school you’re behaving around a video game, but you’ve invested an embarrassing amount of time and energy into Kingdom, and you’ll be damned if you think someone else can outdo you.

As you’re logging onto the game, Jungkook continues to wail into the phone. “I don’t even know who this person is, I feel like I’ve never seen them before! I mean, they must be really good since they practically appeared out of nowhere, but still! I’m a decent player so we must have crossed paths. Maybe I just don’t remember…”

Sure enough, the moment you open your screen the horns blare and the banners appear, congratulating a different player on achieving the top rank. You watch helplessly as the celebration fades on your computer before the leaderboard appears in the top left corner, your name a sad second place.

“Who’s JK0901?” You shout into the phone, earning an exasperated sigh from Jungkook on the other end. You scowl at the name that’s knocked you off your pedestal, before narrowing your eyes to look at it more closely. “JK? Is that you, Jungkook? Are you just calling me to make fun of me for beating me? Don’t disrespect your elders, Jungkook.”

Jungkook gasps like he’s been accused of murder. For people that take Kingdom as seriously as you and Jungkook, it may as well be. “No! What the heck, Y/N, you know that my username is KookieMonster97, for God’s sake. Accusing me of being the best, how could you?”

“You should have just taken the compliment,” you frown into the phone, “Now all the girls are gonna know you aren’t, in fact, the number one Kingdom player.”

“Fuck, you’re right,” Jungkook mutters. “But it’s not me, I swear. You would have received a very different phone call from me if it was. In fact, I probably wouldn’t have even told you and then ruined your day in the office tomorrow. So it’s not me.”

“I can’t tell if I’d be more or less angry if it was you,” you admit.

“Why, because I’d finally have something to hold over your head other than my unwavering youth?” Jungkook taunts. Definitely still a university student at heart.

“No, because it means I’d have to hear the entire office praise you for a day, and I’d rather permanently pop my eardrums,” you tell him informatively. Jungkook has enough of a head. You actively try to not do anything to enlarge it unless he wholeheartedly deserves it.

“I love our coworker chats, you know,” Jungkook says. “Whoever this person is though, I bet they’re receiving bucketloads of praise for knocking you off the top spot. You’ve had it for like, three months now, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” you tell him through gritted teeth. “I’ve put my blood, sweat, and tears into this game and look how it’s repaying me,” you grumble, staring down the Kingdom home screen.

“JK0901 probably did a ritual sacrifice to beat you,” Jungkook supplies unhelpfully.

You sigh. Whoever they are, they proved that they are just as good at Kingdom as you are, a veteran player with an embarrassing several years of experience under your belt. In fact, they proved that they’re better than you.

♚ THERE ♚

It’s cloudy today, which means that more of the market stalls are out on the main street. You pass by them on your way to the castle, vendors calling out to you with promises of apples, jewelry, and perfumes.

You’ve got money to burn and your responsibilities can wait a couple of minutes, so you indulge one of the stalls and purchase a couple of apples. One should give you a bit of energy now, and the rest can be roasted later for a better meal.

“Miss Y/N, off to the palace?” The vendor asks. From how much you frequent this part of the kingdom, every artisan, farmer, and merchant alike knows your name. That, and the fact that you’ve amassed quite a group of followers from your daily knightly escapades.

“Of course,” you respond happily, paying the merchant with a couple of silver coins and then some, just as a thanks. The extra money helps the farmers raise the quality of their crops and allows them to earn more for their efforts. It also boosts your standing amongst the townsfolk. “His Majesty requested my presence for further instructions on fortification, most likely. But I’m just honored to be recognized.”

“As you should!” The man responds dutifully. “You are our best knight, after all.”

“Please, you flatter me. When the work day is done, go home and feed your children well, alright?” You ask, giving a firm nod to the merchant before you’re on your way. As you stroll down the stone-paved path, other vendors call out to you, hoping that you, too, will indulge in their finest clothes and trinkets on your way to the castle.

Maybe another day.

You take a hearty bite of the apple as you head towards the palace, a satisfying crunch ringing through your ears as the townsfolk nod and bow to you. It’s easy to figure out that you’re the top-ranked knight in the kingdom, with badges of honor pinned to your torso, ink black armor clinging tightly to your body, and red sashes tied around the black ones on your wrist, signifying approval from the highest ranking military official in the kingdom: the king himself.

The guards at the palace gates step aside as you nod to each other, bowing courteously. You repeat this process several more times as you slowly proceed towards the throne room, where the King (and maybe the Queen) are likely to be waiting for you. They had increased their security at every door frame after an attempted assassination several months ago, which you (with the help of other high-ranking knights and castle officials) discovered was a plot orchestrated by Their Majesty’s second-most-trusted advisor.

Finally, you reach the golden arches that signify that you’ve arrived at the most expensive room in the entire palace (save for Her Majesty’s bathroom, which, though you have never been inside, is rumored to have a golden bathtub and sacred water from the River Blancheur, over two thousand miles away. But you cannot confirm nor deny.), threatening red doors slowly creaking open as the King and Queen come into view.

They’re sitting on their thrones, as per usual, but they aren’t the only ones in the room like they normally are. Instead, there’s another knight, as equally decked out as you, standing before them, arms crossed behind their back.

“We hope that you can wear these honors proudly and do your duties with pride,” the King says regally, deep, thick voice echoing throughout the room.

“I will stop at nothing to ensure this kingdom’s greatness,” the knight says back, just as formal. The knight gives a long bow, red sashes around their wrist dangling towards the ground. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think you were being replaced. But of course, that’s not the case.

“Oh, Y/N,” the Queen says happily, noticing your waiting right in front of the closed doors to the throne room. “Prudent, as always.”

“I aspire to please,” you say with a bow. The King gives you a warm smile, one you’re willing to bet that this other knight isn’t often on the receiving end of.

“Your timing is impeccable,” the King says, ushering for you to come forward. You do so, taking calculated steps along the red carpet, woven nearly two centuries ago and maintained ever since. “We were just congratulating Sir JK on his recent accomplishments in the Black Forest.”

“Of course,” you say with a nod, refusing to turn to your left so you can stare down this Sir JK for yourself. “The military made groundbreaking strides for our kingdom there.”

“You are the first person to know this, other than him, of course, but we’ve decided to appoint him as the Head of the Royal Knights of the Kingdom of Kalar,” the King says proudly.

It takes everything in your willpower not to let your mouth drop open. You blink rapidly, making sure that you aren’t in a daze nor still asleep. Sure enough, you’re wide awake and your ears and eyes seem to be working perfectly. The knight next to you is taking over the highest position a knight can hold in your kingdom, one that even you haven’t been given.

You’ve been replaced.

“What an incredible honor,” you say, body stiff. You can practically feel the ego of the knight next to you radiating off of him. It makes your nerves twitch.

“I think so as well,” the King says proudly. He has, luckily, not picked up on your sudden mood change. “So, I’ve called you here to appoint you as his second-in-command.”

You bow graciously at his words, ensuring that, despite your bitter attitude, you are still thankful for this opportunity. Mostly. You are mostly thankful for this opportunity.

“I’m honored and grateful, Your Majesties,” you say, head facing the carpet. “I would rather die than let down my kingdom.”

“You two are to work together closely,” the Queen advises, words that make your ears bleed. Oh, wonderful, now you have to work hand-in-hand with the person that stole your favor with the royal household right from underneath your feet? You can think of nothing more enjoyable. “Your cooperation alone will ensure the utmost safety and security of this kingdom.”

“We shall do better than our best,” the knight beside you says. His words make your eyes roll back into your head, but you’ve been a bigger brownnoser in your past. You can forgive that, even if the man next to you radiates an energy you’d rather not surround yourself with.

“I’m pleased to hear it. Your training and work together begins now, so do not hesitate to get to know each other.”

You and him take one baited breath each before turning to each other. You both bow out of obligatory respect, which satisfies the King and Queen well enough. And as you come up, you catch a glimpse of each other’s eyes. His are dark, rounded pupils. They’re hiding something.

You’re determined to figure out what it is.

“Call me J,” the knight says the moment you’ve stepped foot outside of the palace. The setting sun shines dimly on the main road, and many of the vendors are beginning to pack up their belongings in order to head home.

“Okay, J,” you say suspiciously. Everything about him unsettles you slightly. Perhaps it’s the fact that behind the armor and the mask and the badges, he’s extremely good-looking. Or maybe it’s the fact that he swiped the top-ranking knight position right from your fingertips. It must be that. “It’s baffling to me that we haven’t met yet. If you’ve been in such high favor with the King and Queen, then I must have seen you somewhere.” You wonder if he can hear the bitterness lacing your features. You sure hope that he can.

“I guess our paths just never crossed,” J says, taking a bite out of a peach he just purchased from a farmer’s daughter, who was watching over the stall as her father haggled with another vendor. You watched as he winked to the girl as she gave him two peaches for the price of one. “I’m more on the ground than you are, am I not? You spend much of your time strategizing in the castle.”

“You don’t know what I do,” you huff out. He finishes the peach and wraps up the pip in a piece of cloth from his pocket before tucking it away. There is no place to dispose of it on the main street anyway.

“Don’t I?” J says with a sly grin, one that makes you want to kick him in the shin and push him into the grass. “Everyone knows what you do, Y/N. You were the King and Queen’s favorite.”

The way he uses the past tense doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

“But, as it seems, being on the battlefield outweighs directing it from above,” J says. He keeps his eyes off of you and his head held high while your gaze focuses in on him out of pure fury, just another way to hold his newfound superiority over your head. Five minutes next to him and he already seems to know how to push every single one of your buttons.

“So it seems,” you say bitterly.

“You and I really must get along, Y/N,” J says casually as you begin to stray from the hustle of the main street. Neither of you seem to have a particularly clear destination in mind, only a path that must be taken for the sake of the greater good. It’s only the prospect that if you do well enough, you’ll impress the King and Queen and regain your favor with them that’s keeping you from socking J in the face and dashing off, taking his second peach with you. “We’ll be spending lots of time together.”

“Doesn’t that sound like the bee’s knees,” you mutter to yourself. For the greater good.

“Should it not?” J asks innocently. It makes you want to wipe that smirk right off of his face, that knowing tone in his voice. “I certainly don’t have a problem with you, Y/N. Do you happen to have one with me?”

He asks it because he knows that whatever you say will incriminate you. He knows that if you say no, you’re a goddamn liar, and that if you say yes, you’re weak. Weak because you’re admitting that you can’t handle spending time with him even though you have to. Weak because you’re showing him that he has power over you.

“No, of course not,” you say, plastering the fakest smile on your face. Two can play at this game. “In fact, would it be alright if I had that other peach? I’m absolutely starving.” You can be civil. If he can, at least.

“Sure thing,” J says, unwrapping the peach from the woven napkin the farmer’s daughter gave him.

You reach out to take it from him, but in the blink of an eye his hand dangles it over your head, too far out of reach for you to grab without losing all of your dignity in the process.

“What do we say, Y/N?” He asks sweetly, like a parent disciplining their child. God, everything he does absolutely aggravates you.

You take a deep breath and close your eyes. Perhaps you aren’t on the front lines as often as he is, but you sure know how to fight. Maybe now is a good time to remind him that you received the same training he did.

“Please?” You ask, just as saccharine.

“As you request, Y/N,” J says with a bow, finally handing it over.

If this is what the next several months have in store for you, you wonder if maybe sinking down to a lower ranking might be worth it after all, especially if it means you’ll never have to see him and his bouncy hair and dark eyes again.

You take a bite into the peach. It’s sour.

Just your luck.

♚ HERE ♚

When you walk into work the next day, a hush falls over the room.

It’s not even as if the entire office has been quiet so far this workday, not as if the clock struck nine o’clock and everyone decided to start a competition to see who could shut up for the longest amount of time.

(For the record, if anyone were to win that competition, it would be Yoongi, who usually only speaks either 1) when spoken to or 2) to let someone know when they’re being dumb via insult. The first person to lose would be Namjoon, because his job description is to boss people around. And he’s awfully good at it.)

The elevator door dinged on the twenty-third floor and you could hear Hoseok’s loud gasps and Jungkook’s cackled laugh even through the glass door that separates your office from the rest of the companies that take up residence in this particular city skyscraper. And then, as your loafers tapped on the hard linoleum floor and the glass door creaked open, the entire office fell silent.

Quickly, you wonder if you’ve forgotten someone's birthday or if anybody’s due for a celebration of some sort. But nobody’s come to mind and the lights aren’t off, which means that this isn’t the kind of sudden silence that precedes a surprise party.

This is the kind of sudden silence that makes everybody go, “Oh shit.”

It feels like you’re walking on eggshells as you make your way over to your desk. You’re a couple minutes late due to oversleeping (for reasons that start with J and end with -ungkook) so everybody’s already here, and the office should be as boisterous and rowdy as always. And yet, something’s different.

You’re left entirely in the dark in concern with what the reasoning is, so you just decide that you’d rather not be the one to break the tense quiet that’s befallen your office and settle down, logging into your work desktop and checking today’s assignments on Slack.

Five minutes pass and you can’t help but think that, of the many, many days you’ve spent in this office with these people, this has got to be the most awkward by an overwhelmingly long shot. Not even the time Namjoon showed up with his hair dyed purple and traces of a sharpie drawing with a certain phallic design on his cheek was more awkward than this.

It seems that even Namjoon’s picked up on the vibe of your workspace today, walking in and out without a word. He wheels in a portable whiteboard from one of your meeting rooms and writes down everybody’s assignments on the board in his handwriting, which makes his O’s look like D’s.

Ten minutes in and this is the quietest your office has ever been in the history of mankind, probably. You’re almost convinced that genuinely no one will speak to each other until five o’clock, when Jimin’s end-of-work alarm goes off and you all pack up and go home, and that today’s workday is an exercise in meditation and peace, two things that are seldom available in your usual office environment.

And then, out of nowhere,

“Oh my God, I can’t take it anymore,” Hoseok says loudly, letting out a breath you didn’t even realize he had been holding. It’s highly unlikely that Hoseok spent the past ten minutes holding his breath because he wasn’t allowed to talk under your office’s societal norm of silence, but you honestly can’t put it past him. Speaking is essentially the equivalent of breathing to him. “I’ve been wanting to bother Jimin for not responding to my email from yesterday for the past five minutes. I don’t even know why we’re doing this, it’s clear that Y/N doesn’t care at all about what happened.”

“What don’t I care about?” You blurt out, equally as curious as everyone else also seems to release their baited breaths.

Hoseok and Jimin immediately begin to argue about appropriate email-response time between coworkers and Yoongi rolls a couple of feet over from his own desk to enlighten you.

“Jungkook told everyone that you had been docked from your top rank in Kingdom, and the whole office seems to have taken it very seriously,” Yoongi mutters into your ear, making you scrunch up your nose in exasperation. Is he kidding?

“That’s why everyone was so quiet? Because they didn’t want to bring it up?”

“I guess so, but I was just quiet because it was nice to have the whole office shut up for a few minutes in the morning,” Yoongi says with a shrug before wheeling back to his own desk, where an anime you vaguely recognize as Haikyuu!! is playing on his monitor.

Immediately, you whip around to meet eyes with Jungkook, who looks like he’s been expecting your furious glare all morning. He smiles guiltily and can offer you literally nothing other than a mouthed sorry because you two are in a workplace environment where shouting is, generally, socially unacceptable.

Despite your standing on the game, it’s easy to argue and even easier to prove that your coworkers care much more about Kingdom than you do. The loading screen of the castle in Monet’s art style is Hoseok’s desktop background. Jungkook has a little sword decoration next to his computer, and a couple of his pens are official Kingdom merch that you’re pretty sure he purchased from Hot Topic. Taehyung and Jimin play during their lunch break, the only time in the workday where shouting is socially acceptable, and the both of them came to last year’s Halloween party dressed as knights. Even Namjoon’s in on the game, though he rarely has time to play and usually has no idea what everyone else is referencing when they talk about Kingdom.

Contrastingly, you enjoy the game but very seldom do you actually broadcast that affection in public. You need to have at least some semblance of personal dignity in this absolute free-for-all of a place of employment.

So really, it’s no wonder that all of your coworkers acted like it was the end of the world when you got knocked from first place. To them, that would be like having a winning lottery ticket only to drop it onto train tracks and watch as the public transportation system has a field day with it.

“We’re really sorry, Y/N,” Taehyung says as he comes over and hands you a Tootsie Roll from the stash he keeps in one of his desk drawers for bad days. Apparently, this is a bad day. “Jungkook told us and we didn’t want to put salt in the wound.”

Even if their methodology was weird and slightly unsettling, the sentiment was there. “Thanks guys,” you tell Taehyung with a smile, “but I think you guys took it harder than I did.”

“Of course we did!” Jungkook says with a cry. He is objectively the most torn up out of the lot of you. “We had the top player in Kingdom in our very office, and now what! You were famous, Y/N! Whoever that bozo is who took your place is gonna feel the wrath of Jeon Jungkook and company.”

“Who’s feeling the wrath of Jeon Jungkook and company?” Seokjin asks as he strolls into the office, even later than you. To be fair, it’s looking like he’s got a box of a dozen Dunkin’ Donuts, which is enough for anyone to forgive him, even your hard headed boss. “Is it Jimin? Did he steal your Post-Its again? I saw he had a new pack.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen for barely a second before they narrow in on Jimin, who is already skirting away to find Namjoon so he can use him as a human shield. Jimin has quite the history of taking Jungkook’s office supplies only for a second and then failing to return it.

“No, but I’m gonna deal with him later,” Jungkook says, fishing through his office supplies on the hunt for his Post-it notes, which may or may not be currently in his possession. “We were just talking about how Y/N got knocked from the top spot in Kingdom by some asshat none of us have ever heard of, and now he’s going to feel the wrath. Of us. Specifically me, but also us.”

“What wrath?” Taehyung jokes. “You’re fresh out of college. You’re practically as intimidating as a baby bunny.”

Jungkook growls just for emphasis, and it only proves Taehyung’s point more. He’s always had a baby face.

“Well, I brought doughnuts to cheer everyone up,” Seokjin says, opening the box to reveal a dozen doughnuts of varying kinds that is likely to be finished within the next thirty seconds.

“Oh my God, Kim Seokjin, I love you,” Hoseok says before immediately taking one and a half and bouncing off.

“Save the pink-frosted one for me, will you? It’s my favorite,” Seokjin requests. He’s not even monitoring the box, too busy putting all his stuff away and getting settled at his desk. He’s basically asking to be robbed.

“Aw, I wanted that one,” you joke sadly, already going for the chocolate-frosted one with rainbow sprinkles. The box is nearly three-fourths empty. Even Namjoon’s materialized out of nowhere to take the glazed one to eat while he completes the next fifty-four things on his to-do list.

“Then let’s split it,” Seokjin says without missing a beat. Your heart does the exact opposite.

“Jimin, you wanna split one with me?” Taehyung asks.

“Ew, gross, no way, I want a whole one to myself,” Jimin immediately rejects.

“I’ll go and grab it,” Seokjin says, standing up to nab the doughnut for some evil being (by the name of Jimin) takes it for himself. He plucks it from the box and takes two napkins, too, walking over to your desk as he splits the doughnut in half.

“For you,” he says casually, like it isn’t making your heart beat out of your chest.

“Thank you, kind sir,” you say jokingly, taking the doughnut and placing it on the napkin he hands to you.

“Tell me about this Kingdom thing? You got knocked from first place?” Seokjin asks, making conversation as he lingers by your desk. It’s obvious that nobody’s going to be getting any work done.

“Yeah, but it’s really nothing special. Everyone was making a huge deal out of it, which you should be very glad you missed, because the first ten minutes of this workday were absolutely silent and it was awful in every way that something can be awful,” you tell him.

Seokjin laughs, and it warms you from the inside out. “Then I’m glad that I came late,” he says with a chuckle. “I couldn’t imagine a day where Jimin and Taehyung were silent for more than two minutes.”

“I lived through it,” you say, smiling. “Anyway, everyone seems to have gotten over the fact that I’m no longer the top-ranked Kingdom player. I’m kind of down about it myself, just because I worked really hard, but whoever it is that took over, I’m glad for them. I mean, it’s just a game.”

“That it is,” Seokjin says. “How about a toast to your Kingdom-playing skills, and to whoever it is that beat you.”

“Cheers,” you say, holding out your half of the doughnut.

“Cheers,” Seokjin echoes.

The two of you clink doughnuts, and they squish together awkwardly.

“You should bring doughnuts more often,” You muse.

“If it means we don’t have to work and can just talk like this, then I will,” Seokjin says as he takes a bite, already heading back over to his own desk. He waves goodbye with a smile, and only then do you finally indulge.

Sweet. As always.

♚ THERE ♚

When you were moved to the Military Tactics Unit, the King and Queen pulled you out of military training in favor of you spending more time working on strategies for the Kingdom’s armies rather than sparring with fellow Knights. It was a wise move on the part of Their Royal Highnesses, who feared losing you to a rebel group or warring kingdom, and you didn’t mind not having to engage in the physicality of training with those that would be spending more time on the battlefield.

And at the time, you saw it as a much-needed break from hand-to-hand combat training for years on end when you hadn’t set foot on the front lines in months. But now, that decision has decided to come back and bite you where it hurts.

Because as second-in-command to the Head of the Knights, you (and J, both luckily and unluckily) are tasked with the important duty of supervising the military training of the new recruits. This spells doom in various ways, some of which include (and are not limited to):

Having to spend more time with J.

Having to spend more time with J without letting all of the recruits know you both vastly dislike each other.

Having to spend more time with J in a scenario in which there is constant hand-to-hand combat.

Having to spend more time with J without being able to make up an excuse about needing to attend to urgent military business in order to leave.

Having to spend more time with J.

Attempting to remember how to spar.

So, in essence, you’re screwed.

This is the mindset with which you walk into your very first training session in over six months, a few minutes late, of course. Recently you’ve been attempting to calculate the maximum amount of time you can spend either being tardy or leaving early from events that involve J without you facing any repercussions. So far it’s been working out well.

When you walk in the door, before you can greet any of the recruits or even offer J a slightly sarcastic wave, he says, “Look who’s finally shown up,” loud enough for all of the recruits to turn to look as you stroll in tardy.

“I got held up by a vendor on the main road, my apologies,” you lie like a liar. It’s obvious that J does not believe you whatsoever, but it satisfies the recruits, who return to their business as usual.

“Well, you’re just in time for warm-up,” J says, false positivity radiating throughout every single word.

You walk up to where he stands at the front of the room, wearing much less of his official armor than he normally is. Right now, he stands in front of you in a plain tan cotton shirt and training pants, similar to the rest of the recruits. It’s really quite jarring, to see him dressed so differently from what he usually wears—dark armor and scarlet red sashes. It makes him seem… almost softer.

“Thought you might have bailed on me,” J mutters into your ear as the recruits begin to stretch.

“Have a little more faith in me, for God’s sake,” you grumble in return. You may not like him, but you aren’t about to abandon your responsibilities just because of a little bit of distaste.

“Do you wanna take warm-up, or should I?” He offers, motioning to the recruits. They all look so nervous, so desperate to prove themselves on the first day of training. It reminds you of yourself, like you’re looking into a mirror and a time machine all at once.

“You’re the boss,” you say, unabashedly letting the bitterness seep through your tone. “You choose.”

Unsurprisingly, J decides to let you handle the warm-up session, something that is just a precursor to the main event and therefore, not as important. He takes a couple of steps back and follows your instructions as you go through stretches and basic movements in combat, allowing all of the recruits to get a feel for what knighthood is really like in the Kingdom of Kalar. Warm-up was always your least favorite part during training, so boring in comparison to the sparring and hand-to-hand combat that you would engage in soon after. Sure, it was necessary, but when you were a wide-eyed, overeager trainee, you were willing to risk a pulled muscle if it meant you could beat someone up sooner.

With this in mind, you wrap up the session in a fairly timely manner, letting the recruits do their own stretching after everything absolutely necessary has been covered. It also means that you can sit back and let J do most of the heavy lifting, which, while you’re bitter about him getting all of the attention, is better than having to do it yourself based solely upon memory. You remember combat well enough to handle yourself in the battlefield, but the technicalities of training have completely slipped your memory by now.

J and everything else about him may leave a sour taste in your mouth, but you have to admit that he’s a good teacher and an even better morale booster. This must come from his experience out in the field, on the front lines, where raising his troops’ spirits came as a necessary quality to develop when times were tough.

He speaks slowly, explains everything in enough detail to cover all of the bases without losing attention, and frequently opens up the floor for questions. And as per usual, the recruits already begin to cling to him like vines, desperate to soak up every ounce of knowledge that he doles out.

J doesn’t need the ego boost, that’s for certain.

“Now that I’ve gone through everything, I believe that the best way to learn how to spar is just to start doing it, even if you haven’t the slightest clue what you’re doing. Despite what you may think about me, experience is the best teacher,” he says with a smile, earning a laugh from the crowd.

You roll your eyes.

“Um, sir?” A timid recruit raises her hand, her body curled in on herself. You take one look at her, and know that she’ll come out of her shell soon enough.

“Yes, a question?” J asks.

“Would you mind giving a demonstration? Just so we can watch. So we, well, don’t injure ourselves or each other while we’re sparring.”

A demonstration? You blink, having awoken from the trance you had placed yourself in one J stepped up to take over the training session. Doesn’t a demonstration mean… well, you and him?

J seems to come to this realization at the same time that you do, and grins wildly, giddy. He knows exactly how much you’ll hate doing this, which is all the more reason to say yes. “Of course, we’d be happy to. Y/N?”

You hold in the sigh you’ve been wanting to let out for about five minutes now, taking a deep exhale as you turn to face J. You’ve been in close proximity to him before, but you are about to get a whole lot closer.

“If you say so,” you say with a shrug, trying to keep this as lighthearted and casual as possible. Though, both of those things are likely to be tossed out the window now that you’re about to spar with your worst enemy.

J grabs a mat from the side of the room to lay down on the floor in front of you, and the two of you step onto it. Instantly, you’re transported back to when you were still in training, bouncing up and down on your feet with your fists raised in front of you, ready to take on the next recruit. You had always been quite good at sparring, back then.

Now is a completely different story.

“Are you ready?” J asks as you face each other in front of a crowd of recruits, all of whom are watching you with hawk-like intensity.

“Guess I can’t say ‘no’, can I?” You joke, though if J offers you a way out of this, you’d gladly take it, shame and dignity be damned.

“Well then, do your worst.”

He’s an open target. You’ve never been given an opportunity to sock him in the face before now, and you’d absolutely love to take it, but this is a sparring session, not a revenge session. That can be saved for a later date. Instead, you bounce on your feet like a nervous, excitable recruit, and aim for his neck.

He easily dodges, but you expected that, and counter his attack with your leg. It goes back and forth like this, as your muscle memory kicks in and you remember exactly what sparring was like back in your training sessions. For a few seconds in the middle of it, you genuinely think you and him are on a pretty level playing field.

And then—

One punch gone wrong and he’s got you lifted up off of the ground and onto his back, having grabbed your wrist at the perfect time to hoist you over his shoulder. You gasp in shock, body not necessarily remembering this part, and then—

He slams the both of you down onto the mat, your back hitting the cushion with a thud as the breathe gets knocked from your lungs. You definitely haven’t done this part in a while.

You know the recruits are all watching you intently, but you refuse to lose like this, even if this is normally the part where the person pinned underneath the other one surrenders. With both of your arms and all of your force, you attempt to shove J off of you by using your elbow to punch him in the chest. If you go down (which you most certainly will), you will go down with a fight.

He sees your move coming from a mile away, and immediately pins both of your arms above your head with a simple swish of his hand. The other one is holding up his body by your head as you both stare at each other, breathing heavily. His leg sits in between both of yours, resting up against your thigh, and his head hovers a very dangerous less-than-three inches away from your own. If a particularly near-sighted person were to stumble upon the both of you, you’d be absolutely screwed.

The both of you gaze into each other’s eyes for a second, the wind knocked out of you. You never quite realized what his face looks like up close. His cheeks are bright red. But it’s a second too long because the recruits have gone silent, refusing to applaud or do anything else to signal that the sparring match is over.

And then, it feels like a million years pass as J slowly removes himself from on top of your body, standing up and dusting his hands off before leaning down and offering his hand to help you up. Too floored and absolutely speechless to reject his extended palm like you normally would, you grab onto his hand and let him hoist you up, unable to speak.

“How was that for a demonstration?” J asks the recruits, who are all blinking like they’ve just witnessed something far too shocking for their liking.

Another trainee, a boisterous young man who walked into today’s session with his energy fully up and his eyes on the prize, raises his hand. “Could you show us again?”

You and J take one look at each other.

No. Way.

♚ HERE ♚

Because your office is both tightly knit and also uncannily resembles a cast of grown adults playing various high school stereotypes in a Hallmark movie, every year you do Office Superlatives. Office superlatives are basically an excuse for everyone to come up with a way to insult each other 1) while getting paid to do so and 2) without facing any repercussions whatsoever.

For three years in a row, your office has designated you as “Most Likely to Spill Coffee on Someone Really Important”, a superlative that came about because on your very first day, you spilled your coffee on the one and only Kim Namjoon, who you then mistook as your boss, and thus ensued the most embarrassing one minute and thirteen seconds of your entire life in front of a bunch of colleagues you would have to see every weekday for the foreseeable future.

Thankfully, you haven’t spilled your coffee on anyone important since then, even if you do regularly knock over your pencil cup and send every pastel-colored highlighter flying across the hardwood floor. It became such a frequent occurrence that, for April Fool’s Day last year, Taehyung and Jimin taped every single thing on your desk to your desk to see how long it would take you to notice.

(It took you over three weeks, but that’s besides the point.)

“I know that the saying is ‘the customer is always right’, but this client I’m working with right now is literally wrong,” Taehyung says with a sigh. He collapses back in his office chair, mindlessly playing with the fur of the stuffed Pomeranian dog he keeps on his desk, staring down the email on his desktop. “Like, I’m not Squarespace or Wix. Either you pay me to design your website entirely, or you do it yourself. I’m not a drag-and-drop of a person, and I don’t get paid to be consulted on every font choice.”

“Didn’t you write on your resume that you can identify every standard Microsoft font without being told the name?” Yoongi asks with a frown from across the office. He’s making the most of his gigantic desktop computer, and has a tab open with One Punch Man right next to a Photoshop logo design he’s working on.

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I want to do it,” Taehyung says with a frown. “I need someone who knows how to let people down easily.”

“Jimin?” Hoseok pipes up unhelpfully, earning an eraser to the face from Jimin, who is notorious for going on a bunch of first dates and very, very seldom going on a second one. You don’t even think that for the entire time you’ve known him, he’s ever gone a third date with someone. Ever.

“Do not make fun of my lifestyle choices!” Jimin shouts out defensively. “I just like meeting new people.”

“Yeah,” Hoseok says like a white girl in a Disney Channel Original Movie, “and then never meeting them again.”

“That’s where you’re mistaken,” Jimin tells him pointedly, already beginning to stand up from his office chair to attempt to further convince him that serial-first-dating isn’t all that bad. “Two weeks ago, I saw this guy that I had gone on a date with last year and he told me that his friend was starting up a small pet barbershop business and needed help with the graphic design for his company. Now I’m designing this guy’s logo and backsplash for his wall.” He says matter-of-factly.

Hoseok frowns. “So, what I’m hearing is that you saw a guy you had gone on a date with last year, and what you got out of it, was more work.”

Jimin opens his mouth to say something else, but he flounders. Hoseok cackles to himself, shaking his head because Jimin’s just proved his point further.

“I’ll ask Seokjin,” Taehyung says with a sigh. “He could tell me that I’ve lost my job and that I’m getting evicted from my apartment and I would thank him.”

Amen.

“Hey, where is Seokjin?” Jungkook asks, spinning around in his office chair for the most efficient way to scan the entire office in search of the man. “He was just here watching One Punch Man with Yoongi.”

“I didn’t even notice he had gotten up,” Yoongi says, turning to the empty spot next to him where Seokjin once was.

“I’ll go look for him, I need to grab something from the printer, anyway,” you volunteer, pushing your chair back, standing up, and avoiding the gazes of anybody in the office who happens to have knowledge of your not-so-secret secret crush. This means that you are staring down at the lines of the wooden planks in the floor as you walk over to the back hallway, because every single person in the room currently has at least… well… some insight.

“He’s all yours, Y/N,” Taehyung wolf whistles, making you roll your eyes as you head down the hallway.

Too busy counting the planks that make up the hardwood floor and hoping that you’ll maybe be able to identify Seokjin by the shoes he’s wearing rather than anything else, you don’t look at where you’re going as you make a beeline for the printing room. That is, you make a beeline for the printing room until you crash right into an unsuspecting colleague.

“Oh, shit!” Said colleague cries out.

Oh God.

You look up to find Seokjin standing in front of you, a nearly-empty cup of low-grade office coffee in his hand, and a growing brown stain on his pale blue dress shirt. One look on the floor and there’s a puddle of coffee gathered at your feet, wet splotches on your flats and his loafers.

“Y/N, are you alright?” Seokjin asks, eyes wide and apologetic as he immediately searches for some place to put down his coffee to avoid any more casualties. He looks right at you, making you want to curl in on yourself, before his eyes train down to your torso.

Only then do you realize he’s not shamelessly staring at your chest, but rather at the massive brown stain on the front of your blouse, quickly seeping into the fabric, the scalding temperature of the coffee having gone right over your head the moment you realized who exactly it was that you crashed into.

“Uh…” you stammer, brain crashing as everything that’s just happened in the past thirty seconds catches up to you all at once.

“Oh my God, I’m such a mess,” Seokjin says, fumbling awkwardly as he finally finds a trash can to toss his sad lump of a coffee cup into.

No you’re not, you want to tell him, but the words don’t come out and you’re left standing there, looking sort of like you blame him for everything, when in reality, you just have no idea how to function in front of him.

“Coffee stains,” Seokjin says, hands fishing through his seemingly bottomless pants pockets (he could probably fit an entire Nintendo Switch and its dock in there) until he pulls out this measly little thing that vaguely resembles your orange highlighter. “Here, I have a Tide To-Go pen.”

Before you can tell him that you can just deal with the stain and wash it in the privacy of your own home where you don’t look like a bumbling idiot, he grabs your hand and pulls you into the gender neutral bathroom nearby, locking the door as the light flickers on.

“Here, do you need help?” Seokjin asks, holding out his Tide To-Go pen as he wets a paper towel made of entirely recycled materials and begins fruitlessly dabbing at his shirt.

“I’m alright, really,” you insist, staring into the mirror and trying desperately to avoid the fact that Seokjin’s shirt becomes transparent when it’s wet. Maybe quitting your job and moving to another city doesn’t sound unappealing after all. “I can just get it out with OxiClean at my apartment, Seokjin, seriously.”

“Are you sure? That’s what the Tide To-Go pen is for,” Seokjin says, holding it out towards you again as a final attempt to get you to use it.

“No offense, Seokjin, but I don’t know if the Tide To-Go pen is even going to make a dent in the stain on my shirt,” you chuckle, the only thing you can think of to get him to stop offering the thing to you. The Tide To-Go pen is meant for when you accidentally get a bit of ketchup onto your jeans as you move the french fry from your plate to your mouth. Not when you’ve got a giant coffee stain on the front of your shirt.

“God, I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Seokjin says, unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt to try and get a better grip on the fabric as he relentlessly scrubs at it. God help you. He may as well take the whole thing off at this point—though you really, really hope that he doesn’t. “I’m such a klutz.”

“No, it’s my fault, I wasn’t looking where I was going,” you tell him. You still know that you passed by 107 wooden planks before you crashed into him, because that is what you do when you don’t want to look anyone in the eye.

“Seriously, though, I had the cup of coffee. I feel really bad, I could pay to get it dry cleaned for you?” He offers, eyes wide and in search of some way to make it up to you.

“No, no, that’s not necessary. I’m can handle a stain, Seokjin. I’m an adult. I live in my own apartment and everything,” you say firmly, refusing to accept anything else from him. God, if he paid for your dry-cleaning, you’d never be able to live that down. “Maybe I’ll finally stop being voted Most Likely to Spill Coffee on Someone Important,” you joke, trying to make light of the fact that you’re standing in the tiny gender-neutral bathroom together, Seokjin’s practically got half of his transparent dress shirt unbuttoned, and you both have massive and very conspicuous brown stains on your tops. All wonderful, wonderful things.

At this point, Seokjin stares down at his shirt and, quite frankly, just gives up, smoothing out his shirt as best as he can and tossing the poor, now-coffee-colored paper towel away.

“I suppose it’s high time we give you a break for always knocking over that pencil cup of yours,” Seokjin jokes back as he opens the door, motioning for you to leave first.

“We should invest in some Velcro for it,” you suggest, making Seokjin chuckle as he shuts the door behind him.

“Uh… what the fuck?”

The two of you are stopped in your tracks by a particularly suspicious Taehyung, who just witnessed the two of you walk out of the same bathroom with both of your clothes fairly askew.

“It’s not what it looks like,” you immediately tell him, eyes wide. Count on him to get the wrong idea.

“Okay,” Taehyung says, eyes narrowed. “Sure.”

“Taehyung, come on, I spilled coffee on the both of us,” Seokjin attempts, but Taehyung is absolutely not having it.

“That’s what they all say,” he says cryptically, nodding as he heads to the printer room with his eyes still narrowed. He glares at the both of you until he rounds the corner, out of sight, and by then your cheeks have heated up so badly you think you might actually start sweating.

“Now the whole office is going to think we’re dating,” you say, somewhat jokingly but also somewhat seriously. There’s no way Taehyung’s going to be able to keep his mouth shut for any longer than the next five minutes.

Seokjin laughs, looking at you and shrugging. “There are worse things, right?”

Are there?

♚ THERE ♚

“Oh, Y/N!”

You inhale.

Of all of the places in the Kingdom that J has not yet infiltrated and ruined for you, the small cafe on the edge of the kingdom borders has to have been the last one. You discovered it while you were on night watch as a baby knight, a task given to those too dedicated to the job to release but not yet prepared enough to fight on the front lines. It’s a quiet place, open more hours of the day than closed, owned by an old lady with no other family to take care of the business. You’ve already promised her that after she passes, you will immediately begin funding the cafe yourself, too much money on your hands and not enough wonderful places like this to spend it on.

When days are loud and hectic, when the King and Queen and all of their military advisors are stressed and have been snapping at you all day, this is where you come. The old lady keeps her door open especially for you (at least that’s what she tells you), always with a steaming cup of jasmine tea and a wise old story to tell you. Sometimes, you’ll get to tell a story back, and you exchange words of wisdom from a knight at the highest ranking in the kingdom and an elder with many years of experience in the kingdom behind her. She always tells you, “keep your eyes wide and your heart open, because things can only enter it if you’re looking out for them.”

You’ve held those words close to your soul ever since the first time you heard them.

But when your eyes are wide and staring down a certain knight in the kingdom who seems to have stumbled upon your one sacred place, you’re a little bothered, to say the least.

You exhale.

“Fancy seeing you here,” you say sourly, the scalding tea burning your tongue as you take a sip.

“I’ve never seen this place before,” J admits helplessly, already bowing to the old lady who runs the place. He introduces himself handsomely, and much like everyone else bewitched by his good looks and unrealistically charismatic personality, she immediately warms up to him.

“I wish it could stay that way,” you mumble to yourself, far too quiet for anyone except you and your tea to hear. “It’s far away,” you say to him as the lady ushers him to the seat next to yours, already promising him tea on the house. You sigh. “Wouldn’t expect you to go hunting for a nice tea place when there are so many wonderful places in the city.”

“I guess it’s nice to branch out,” J says with a shrug. “I have to say that I don’t really go out to cafes all that often. Too busy.”

“You know I understand how that goes,” you tell him honestly. For once, it’s something you can actually relate to. “But I think that it’s important to take a break from our duties and just relax. We don’t have much time to do that, you know.”

The lady brings over tea, and J insists he pay her for it despite her insistence for him not to. She shuffles off into the back before he can even get out some coins.

“Tell me, where can I leave this? I feel terrible not paying,” J asks you. It catches you off guard, really, mostly because he seems to be the kind of person who walks around the center square winking at every vendor in the hopes of receiving free merchandise.

“Oh,” you say, embarrassingly speechless. “Well, I suppose I could take it and give it to her. If we left rather soon then we could simply leave it on the counter for her to find. It’s likely that she won’t come back out for a while, since I have company.”

“Am I your company, Y/N?” J asks, almost teasingly. It makes you want to chuck your cup of jasmine tea into his face.

“Don’t think too much of it,” you advise him, a warning to tell him to knock it off. “We’re just here together.”

“Lucky us,” J says, holding up his cup of tea for a toast. You indulge him (begrudgingly so), letting your glasses clink together as you both finish a much needed warm drink on a chilly afternoon.

Too soon, the respite of the cafe is broken by a knock at the door. You both turn to find a messenger waiting patiently outside the cafe, motioning for J to come and speak to him.

“If you’ll excuse me,” J says, scooting back his chair and heading over, shutting the door behind him.

The moment the door closes, the old lady reappears from the back of the room, collecting your finished cups as you both listen intently to the murmuring outside.

“That young man mentioned that the two of you spend lots of time together,” the muses, cleaning the cups with a wet rag. She’s got a knowing look in her eye, like she’s picked up on something the both of you seem to have overlooked.

“We’re both knights,” you correct. It’s important to you that she knows that you don’t spend time together out of personal preference. It’s merely obligation. “So we see each other quite often.”

“I’ve never seen him around before,” she says pointedly, “but he seems to know quite a lot about you.”

“Oh, not really,” you insist. How could he? You’ve barely known him a month. Still, it’s clear that the lady doesn’t believe you.

“As you say,” she says, skeptical.

You’re about to open your mouth and reject her notions further, but then the door opens up again, and J looks terribly apologetic as he walks inside, joining your side. “We’ve been called in.”

As per usual, the Kingdom appears with impeccable timing to ruin the rest of your afternoon. It has a striking tendency to do that.

“For what?” You ask, exasperated. J doesn’t look much happier.

“Criminal hearings,” J says, and the words make you you toss your head back and sigh.

Criminal hearings and its many, many procedures are quite possibly your least favorite part of being a top-ranked royal knight. With your knowledge of the ins and outs of the military and the kingdom’s inner workings, as well as with you being an advisor to the generals and the King and Queen, you are often obligated to attend these, just in case there is a desperate need for the technicalities of military crimes that no one else can provide. It is, admittedly, extremely boring, since you can’t really offer any sort of insight or opinion on the actual criminal and their crime at hand.

“Fine,” you say, suddenly much less energized than you were approximately thirty seconds ago. “I suppose that we’ll have to be on our way.”

“Ma’am,” J says, attracting the attention of the old lady behind the counter. He holds out some coins, palm facing up. “Please accept this from me. I couldn’t leave without paying you for your wonderful tea and service.”

“Oh, pish posh,” the lady says with a shake of her hand. “Any friend of Y/N’s is well-deserving of some tea. You both work very hard. You should take any opportunity that presents itself to relax, and enjoy being young.”

“Please,” J insists, placing the coins in her hand, “a token of my gratitude. We shall return soon, right Y/N?” He gives your shoulder a nudge, making you look up at him. Return? You’d be blessed if J forgot about this place entirely, though you know that he’s bound to come back soon.

Perhaps there are worse things than losing your favorite cafe to him. Perhaps, you can simply learn to enjoy his company, instead.

“Of course, how could I resist?” You say, waving goodbye to the lady at the counter. “We really must be going, but I shall see you soon.”

“Take care of yourselves, the both of you!” She sees you off with a smile and a wink directed right at you for a cause you aren’t too keen on picking up. Old ladies are always so vague.

When you walk outside, you’re surprised to find yourselves alone. “Where’s the messenger guard?” You ask, looking around to see if he’s found a tree to take respite from the sun under.

J laughs, warm and hearty. “I sent him off, told him we would be able to make it ourselves.”

“Oh, alright,” you say with a shrug, already beginning to trudge the familiar path towards the castle.

You take six steps before realizing that J is neither next to you nor following you, still standing on the porch of the cafe as the sun makes his hair glimmer a dark caramel in the light.

“Aren’t you coming?” You turn around to ask, an eyebrow raised as you tap your foot on the cobblestone road.

“Have you ever skipped a criminal hearing before, Y/N?” J asks, and the very notion of bailing makes your eyes go wide.

“Skipped?” You clarify.

“That’s what I said,” J confirms.

“No…” You trail off, feeling more and more like the try hard you once were while training, wide-eyed and eager to prove yourself. Standing in front of him, rocking back and forth on your toes and twiddling your fingers as he steps off of the porch, taking long strides to reach you, makes you feel so nervous. With every step he takes closer to you, your heart begins to beat faster, faster, faster.

“Well,” J says, reaching out his hand to take hold of your own. “Would you like to start?”

When you were stationed on the Kingdom’s borders, you thought you had explored every nook and cranny of Kala. You had wandered through forests, across rivers, and into small edge villages with goods you had never even heard of before. You thought you had seen it all.

Clearly, you were mistaken.

J pulls you off of the cobblestone path and immediately takes you into the woods that surround the cafe, weaving past trees and ferns and grass alike. This time of year, the forest is ripe with greenery, right when summer is coming to an end but the leaves have yet to begin to fade to brown. Even without landmarks or a path to guide him, J seems to know exactly where the two of you are going, like he’s taken this road a million times before. And still, you had never seen him before this.

It’s a wonder that the two of you missed each other for so long.

“Where are we going, J?” You ask, laughing as the exhilaration of skipping your duties in favor of a fun day in the forest begins to flow through your veins. You’ve never done this before.

“Just wait, you’ll see,” he says cryptically, taking you down a large hill. You must be out of the Kingdom borders by now, with how far you’ve been going, and yet, no one had ever thought to place guards in this area.

Five more minutes of travelling and you’re near convinced that J is about to take you to some cave in the floor of the forest and murder you, when he tugs you up a hill to reveal—

It’s a clearing with grass so green you’d almost think it was enchanted. The leaves of the trees whisper to each other, voices flowing with the wind that breezes by each and every one, saying hello to the branches as they rustle. Tall grass and ferns grow on the edge of the forest, disguising the clearing to anyone who wouldn’t bother to keep looking, make their way through the overgrowth and into the oasis.

Never in a million years would you have been able to find this place on your own.

“What do you think?” J asks excitedly as he pulls you into the middle of the clearing, where the leaves of the trees have left an opening for the sun to shine through, a halo in the middle of the forest.

“I—I’m speechless,” you say, eyes wandering from every piece of bark to every blade of grass. You’ve always loved your Kingdom and its beauty, from the extravagant castle to the little shacks on the border, but this is more than that. This isn’t just beauty—it’s magic. “How did you find this place?”

“Strayed from the pack during military training outside,” he says guiltily. Clearly, skipping out on responsibilities has become a habit of J’s.

“Unbelievable,” you say, fingers tracing along the wildflowers growing close to the forest floor. You take a seat in the middle of it all, letting the sun stream through the leaves as the flowers open their petals at your touch. It’s as if every single living thing has been enchanted—like none of this could exist naturally.

“Do you like it?” J asks, taking a seat on the stone next to you. He reaches down to run his fingers through the grass, letting the soft dirt gather on his skin.

“I don’t think I have the words,” you tell him. You thought you had found a hidden respite from the hustle and bustle, but he has found not just a respite. He’s found a home. “Why would you show me this place?”

“What do you mean?” J asks. He finds a small yellow flower, a buttercup, and plucks it from the ground, twirling it between his fingers.

“I mean, why would you bring me here? Wouldn’t you want to keep this place all for yourself?” You inquire, curious. Certainly, that’s what you would do.

J pauses for a moment, staring down at the buttercup in his hands. Wordlessly, he hands it to you, watches as your fingers touch his own, taking the buttercup from him. You twirl it between your fingers, and wonder what all of this means.

“No,” he eventually answers. “Because a place like this deserves to be shared with the people that deserve to see it.”

♚ HERE ♚

[You have 5 unread messages]

Jungkook (5:53PM): Is it still acceptable to talk about Kingdom at company dinners? Jungkook (5:53PM): Is the ban that Yoongi instated last company dinner still going? Do you think he’ll be mad if I talk about how I just got a bunch of gold from solving the mystery of the time capsule?

Yoongi (5:55PM): If I have to sit through another company dinner where everyone is talking about Kingdom and nobody is talking about anime or my dog Holly I will lose it

Taehyung (5:57PM): You’re coming, right? You mentioned having a thing that ended pretty late this evening so you weren’t sure you’d make it

Seokjin (6:03PM): Excited to see you tonight! Promise I won’t spill anything on you tonight haha

Your office’s annual company dinner is the one and only opportunity you, as employees, get per year to talk about whatever you like in front of your colleagues, all while getting a meal paid for by your wonderfully unassuming, hardheaded boss. It is both a celebration of camaraderie and, of course, being employed, and a chance for your personal group to talk about Kingdom for two hours straight without repercussions.

Needless to say, many of you are looking forward to it.

To Jungkook (6:07PM): Yes, but only if we get to talk about how I’m still the best at the game out of everyone To Jungkook (6:07PM): Also, don’t forget to talk to Yoongi about My Hero Academia I know that you secretly love it

To Yoongi (6:08PM): Bring earplugs? Or maybe a manga book to get the conversation going?

To Taehyung (6:08PM): Yeah, I’ll be there To Taehyung (6:08PM): Probably be late though To Taehyung (6:09PM): Save me a seat!

To Seokjin (6:10PM): Not sure if I can promise the same thing! Fingers crossed we make it out tonight unscathed by scalding hot liquids

The company dinner starts at 6:30, which means that it really starts at 7:00 by the time everyone arrives, but even still, you’ll probably be late because you are actually doing last-minute laundry, and not attending a special event like you had told Taehyung. Sue you. Your clothes were dirty.

Standing in the middle of your apartment wearing the slouchiest clothes you own, you wonder if it’s even worth going when you know that you will probably 1) be late and 2) have to endure two hours worth of Kingdom talk and other things that leave you thoroughly embarrassed, like your nonexistent love life.

You’ve never skipped out on a company dinner before, but then again, never have all of your colleagues been so on top of you about your very insignificant, not at all soul-crushing, extremely minimal, super unimportant, tiny little infatuation with a certain coworker, so there’s that to consider.

Not to mention the fact that your entire office genuinely believes that the two of you hooked up in the gender neutral bathroom during the middle of the workday, which is a circumstance so improbable you have no idea how Taehyung managed to convince everybody that that was actually what happened. It’s not as if your coworkers didn’t see the ridiculous brown stains on the front of your and Seokjin’s shirts, or didn’t smell the office coffee stench all over the both of you.

So, for once in your life, you are genuinely considering just staying at home, finishing your laundry, and eating the frozen veggie burritos you bought from Costco two weeks ago. It sounds very tempting.

This thought is immediately combated by the fact that you usually have some of the most fun during the year at this company dinner, and a free meal at a nice, upscale restaurant is something that you would normally never pass up. But then again, Seokjin will be there and he will be dressed very nicely, and the rest of your coworkers will also be there, and they will be relentless.

Jungkook (6:33PM): Tae said you’d be late but please come soon! We can’t talk about Kingdom without the best player present!!!! Jungkook (6:33PM): Oh no Namjoon sees me with my phone

And out of every possible text you could have received that night, that one is the one that convinces you to pull out the same dress you’ve worn to the company dinner (it’s not as if anyone else will remember) every other year, tug it on, and head out. Your Costco veggie burritos will have to wait for another stay-at-home night.

You arrive fashionably late as always, walking into the restaurant and just asking for directions to where the “big group of loud office workers” is, a term easily identifiable by the scrambled hostess with fifteen different tables to seat all at once. She points you to the back room, where you can already hear Hoseok’s laughter from outside in the main dining area.

“You guys are loud,” you say in lieu of a greeting, everyone letting out cries of “Y/N!” and “You made it!” as you look around for the last empty seat.

“Here, saved you a spot right next to me,” Seokjin volunteers helpfully, motioning to the empty velvet chair next to him. In the seat next to that sits Taehyung, who is grinning guiltily, like he didn’t just dupe you into thinking he had saved you a seat next to him and someone else other than the person you were hoping not to embarrass yourself in front of.

“Thinking of me when I’m not even here, how thoughtful,” you say, walking over and sending a glare Taehyung’s way as you take your seat, the glass at the top right corner of your placemat already filled.

“How could we forget about you?” Seokjin reasons, and he says it so casually but it makes your heart flutter all the same.

When Seokjin’s finally started talking to Hoseok and Jimin on his other side, the two of them attempting to explain the inner workings of Kingdom to him (to little avail, as per usual), you round on Taehyung, who is every bit the best wingman and the worst friend in the entire world.

“How could you do this to me?” You hiss at him, trying not to attract the attention of the man sitting on the opposite side of you.

“I said I had saved you a seat!” Taehyung says defensively, clearly enjoying himself way too much.

“This was not what I had in mind,” you tell him pointedly.

“Obviously, otherwise I wouldn’t have hidden it from you,” Taehyung says. He motions to Seokjin, who’s laughing at something that Jimin’s just said, eyes crinkled into half moons as the waiter places the cocktail he’s ordered down in front of him. “You know, it’s not so bad having a crush on him, right?”

“He is our coworker and way out of my league, of course it is,” you remind Taehyung.

Taehyung shrugs you off with a wave of his hand. “Give yourself some credit, Y/N. You’re hot. Embrace it.”

“I will not, thank you very much. This conversation makes me want to hurl,” you say as normally as possible, blinking to show your discomfort to Taehyung.

“You need to stop being so afraid of what might actually come out of this,” Taehyung says, a reassuring hand on your arm. “You never know what might happen.”

“What’s definitely going to happen is that I’m going to feel too cold from the vent above my head, and we’re going to switch seats,” you say. You immediately make to stand up, but Taehyung grabs onto your wrist and looks up at you like a child begging for candy in a supermarket.

“Please, Y/N? Just give it a try, and if you hate it by the time the entree comes around, we can switch. Alright?” He asks, a simple compromise to get you to sit back down.

You sigh. You suppose it wouldn’t hurt to shoot your shot, no matter how terrible your aim is.

“I didn’t order any soup, so hopefully we can last through this dinner without ruining more of our clothes,” Seokjin says, an icebreaker to ease the obvious tension between the two of you. He breaks down your walls so easily, carves out a path in the side of it to waltz right through.

“I don’t know,” you say sarcastically,” you better finish that cocktail soon or we might both be in big trouble.”

Seokjin chuckles, warm and full, and takes another sip of the fruity drink for good measure. “Don’t know how you keep getting crowned Most Likely to Spill Coffee on Someone Important when I’m here, a walking coffee volcano.”

“When the superlatives roll around, I’ll petition the court and see if we can crown you instead,” you promise.

“I’m honored. I’ll cherish that title for as long as I live,” Seokjin jokes, bowing to you just for good measure. “This is nice, you know.”

“What is?” You ask, peering down at the large group menu. Everything looks awfully delicious and awfully expensive, so you just go for a classic pasta dish and hope that Taehyung orders something different, so you can try each other’s.

“Sitting next to you,” Seokjin says like it’s obvious, making you blink at your menu like it’s just offended your entire family ancestry. “I don’t think we’ve ever been paired up like this at a company dinner.”

“Well, there’s a first time for everything, right?” You ask hopefully.

“It’s nice,” Seokjin says. “I feel like we don’t get to talk very much at work.”

“You said you’d bring more doughnuts,” you remind him. Seokjin has held up on his promise, actually, and since the first round of doughnuts, he’s brought on two more occasions to brighten up everybody’s day.

“I think I need a better excuse than doughnuts,” Seokjin says to himself. “I can’t keep going to Dunkin’ right before work, pretty soon all of the workers will know me by name and that is a level that I’m not sure I’d like to reach yet.”

“Don’t feel bad,” you tell him, a hand instinctively coming to rest on his shoulder as comfort. “Some of the Costco employees recognize me even when I’m wearing my sunglasses inside.”

“You wear your sunglasses inside Costco?” Seokjin asks with a laugh.

“Sometimes I just forget to take them off when I walk from my car into the store!” You say defensively. “It’s really bright in there, sue me.”

“No, no, I think it’s cute,” Seokjin assures you. “Maybe being recognized by the Dunkin’ employees won’t be that bad. At least they probably wouldn’t know who I was if I had my sunglasses on.”

“I’m being attacked, I’m pretty sure,” you say pointedly.

“Only affectionately. You’re still ridiculously endearing.” Seokjin says with a chuckle, smiling at you as Jungkook calls your name to tell him something about Kingdom that he’s forgotten. But even as Seokjin gets tugged into another conversation and you get pulled into your own, your brain can’t help but replay the sound of his voice in your head, over and over.

You’re still ridiculously endearing.

“Hey, Jungkook,” Jimin asks over a mouthful of complimentary bread with olive oil. “Did you ever figure out who knocked Y/N from the top spot in Kingdom?”

“No,” Jungkook cries out, suddenly thirsty for justice. “It makes me so mad that I don’t know who they are, especially since they’re getting all the in-game brand deals and Y/N gets nothing,” he says pointedly as he motions to you, clearly exasperated for a cause that wasn’t even his to begin with.

“Jungkook, it’s not a big deal, it’s just a game,” you remind him, the table too wide to reach over and pat his hand comfortingly. “I still get a lot of things in second place.”

“What’s Jungkook talking about?” Seokjin asks, motioning to where Jungkook seems to be on a rampage as Jimin and Namjoon listen in.

“Oh, Kingdom, like always,” you say fondly. “He’s determined to figure out the name of the person who dethroned me.”

“Is that so?” Seokjin asks with a laugh. “He’s got his work cut out for him. How many people play Kingdom?”

“Hundreds of thousands, probably,” you say. “Maybe millions.”

“Millions of people, and somehow we ended up with the second-best player in the game right at this table,” Seokjin says with a grin. “We should be honored.”

“It’s just a game,” you remind him, even though the sentiment is awfully sweet. “I think I much prefer the real world, don’t you?”

Seokjin smiles at you as the waiter comes around to offer him another cocktail.

“Another one, sir?”

Seokjin looks down at the cocktail, then at your unstained clothes, and he shakes his head, laughing to himself. “No, I’m alright, thank you.” The waiter nods, taking his empty glass and moving onto another coworker. He looks at you, and his eyes are swimming in stars. “I think that I do, too.”

Dinner ends with Hoseok and Jungkook gobbling down everybody’s leftovers, your boss paying the bill without even glancing at the check, and you laughing alongside Seokjin, who keeps your end of the table entertained with fantastic stories about his past job at a luxury department store and less-than-fantastic dad jokes that he prides himself for coming up with on the spot.

Taehyung had nudged you when the entrees had come around, motioning to the vent above your head, but you hadn’t even noticed the cold.

“Ugh,” Jimin says with a groan as the group of you head outside once everyone is finished, the chilly night air hitting your skin as you open the door. “I hate that we could only schedule this for a Wednesday, because it means we have to come into work again tomorrow.”

“When else are we supposed to schedule it for?” Yoongi asks with a frown. “Did you even look at the When2Meet? Nobody had any free time for the rest of the month.”

“Well, if everyone’s cleared their schedules just for this dinner, anyone want to keep the celebration going at my apartment? I just bought a box of wine from Trader Joe’s,” Jimin asks.

“On a Wednesday?” Yoongi says, nose scrunched up in disapproval.

“Yeah, when else would you drink boxed Trader Joe’s wine?” Jimin responds like it’s obvious.

Everyone begins to either disperse back to their cars or get Jimin’s address so they can get wine drunk on a Wednesday like you’re supposed to, leaving you and Seokjin out of the crowd.

“Are you heading over to Jimin’s?” He asks you as you begin to walk towards your cars, taking a step every five seconds as you watch Jimin tell everybody his exact address, loudly and slowly enough for any burglars and axe-wielding murderers within a three-mile radius to also hear him.

“No, I think I’ll just head home for the night,” you say, checking the time on your phone. It’s nearly ten, already. Where did the time go?

“Ah, then I guess I will, too,” Seokjin says. “Oh, here’s my car.”

“You parked close,” you comment.

“I thought that I’d be late because I arrived at 6:45, but I was the second one here,” Seokjin tells you, making you laugh.

“Sounds like our office, doesn’t it?”

“I guess. We’ll have to do this again sometime just to see how late everyone shows up,” Seokjin says.

“Promise I’ll be early next time,” you say.

“Next time, then?” Seokjin asks, already opening his car door and beginning to step inside. You stand on the sidewalk in front of him, watching as he pulls the door shut and waves to you through the windshield. A next time sounds awfully nice.

“Next time.”

♚ THERE ♚

The King and Queen never do find out about your truancy, though you have to admit, you were never really worried about that in the first place. Not when J was grinning as he told you he had sent the messenger guard off, laughing as he dragged you through the forest, smiling as he twirled a buttercup between his fingers. He had done it before and he’ll do it again, and look where that’s gotten him.

Maybe you could learn a thing or two from him.

Still, despite your high ranks, the two of you can’t avoid your responsibilities forever. Eventually, you will always have to report back to the castle, get a new assignment, and start the cycle all over again.

“At least they’re letting us go together,” J reasons as the two of you nod to the knights standing guard at the border of the kingdom, by the main forest that leads directly to a kingdom with whom your relationship isn’t all that strong. No wars have broken out between your two lands in years, but never has stability been one-hundred percent earned, which means that both kingdoms must be on high alert. You never know when a rebel group will attempt to invade the land.

“Like I’d want to spend any more time with you,” you joke, giving J a nudge in the side as you stroll along the forest edge. In the middle of the day with the sun high above your heads, neither of you are particularly worried about being attacked. It would be foolish for an enemy group to do so, especially at a time when the kingdom’s guards are the most awake.

“Am I really such awful company?” J asks, and he’s smiling but he asks in such a way, it’s almost as if he means it. The two of you have never been on the best of terms, but you’ve found yourself growing out of the competition-fueled rage you once always found yourself in whenever you were near him. No longer is regaining your first place your most important priority. Rather, it’s doing your job and doing it correctly, upholding the duties that the kingdom has entrusted you with, regardless of who’s by your side.

(Though, even if you’d never admit it, J makes quite good company, most of the time.)

“No,” you insist, a hand reaching out to rub comfortingly at his forearm. “You aren’t.”

“You think so?” J says with a laugh, almost bitter. “I must say, you’ve never been that fond of me.”

“You may have charmed your way into the rest of the kingdom’s hearts, but I needed some convincing,” you remind him, reminiscent of how he would tease you constantly, dangle his promotion right above your head like a trophy you’d never be able to reach.

“Did I do a good job, then?” J asks, hands in his pockets. It’s a quiet day, today. Even the birds have begun to murmur.

“You did quite alright,” you say, nudging him. “Though I must say, I absolutely hate how all of the vendor’s daughters fawn all over you and give you free items like fruit, and jewelry. I’m never given that treatment.”

“You just don’t have my naturally charming, handsome, soft looks,” J says, posing in front of you as the two of you walk. The obnoxiousness of it all makes you almost want to chuck the apple you’re about to eat right at his face.

“What do you mean? I can be charming,” you say with a pout. You pretend to flip your hair, just for emphasis.

“You and I are different types of charming,” J says casually. “You’re strong. You speak loudly and clearly and you don’t ever flounder. You always know exactly what you want, and know the best way to get it. You aren’t afraid of anything, and are always willing to take on any challenge that comes your way. It’s… it’s different.”

And even if he thinks you never flounder, never stumble over your words or stutter, for once, you can’t think of anything to say. You’re walking along the forest’s edge with a knight you had convinced yourself that you would never befriend, and he’s just told you all of these wonderful things about yourself you never would have known he’d thought otherwise.

J’s right. It is different. This is different. And you can hardly remember when it started to be like this. Only one day, it was just like this, and it never stopped.

“Do you really think all of those things about me?” You ask, staring down at your boots as you walk along the dirt path, kicking small pebbles as you go. They go flying off into the grass, never to be seen again. But sometimes, you come across one you had kicked a few steps back, and you try again, earnestly hoping to see how far it will go with you by its side.

“I mean, well…” J says, stumbling. “I don’t just think those things about you, you know? They’re facts, aren’t they? Those are things that, well, I suppose, everyone would think about you. Right?”

“You know what I think?” You ask, looking up at him. His dark hair shimmers in the light, like reflects of gold have been sprinkled amongst the ink black. “We are different types of charming. You’re charismatic and friendly, always willing to listen. You accept things graciously and are always grateful for what you receive. You pay people back whatever they’ve given you, even if it’s not the same item, even if it’s just the thought that counts. You always want to do better, and then you do. You work hard for each thing you get, and you never take it for granted.”

J grins down at you. “But you don’t actually think that, do you?”

“Nope,” you say, shaking your head. “Just facts.”

“Just facts,” he echoes.

When did talking to him become so easy? When did it all start coming to you naturally?

“Did you ever hate me?” He asks you, curious. He knows, he must, that that’s not the case anymore.

“No,” you admit, perhaps more to yourself than to him. “I think that I just hated that you were better than me. But… like you said, it’s different now. Now, I don’t care if you’re better than me. That sort of competition makes me a better soldier. You make me a better soldier.”

“Really?” J wonders, genuine. His eyes are wide in surprise, shocked at such a candid admission coming from you. To be honest, you’re surprised with yourself, as well. “I had no idea.”

“Keep it up, then. You know—”

A taut string let go.

The wind stopping in its tracks.

And an arrow headed right for your heart.

“Oh my God!” You shout quickly, unable to do much except alert the man next to you that the two of you are in imminent danger.

Before you can even blink, close your eyes and wait for the tip to pierce your heart, J is pushing you out of the way, sending you flying to the forest floor and he pulls his bow from his back, sending a steel arrow flying in the direction of the woods. You both wait there, only a second but it’s a second too long, until you hear a thud on the ground, a final breath, and then—

Silence.

The moment you’re both positive the assailant is dead, J turns to you, eyes wide. “Y/N, are you alright?”

“I’m fine, I’m alright,” you assure him, telling him (and yourself) over and over as he pulls you up from the ground. Your heart is racing and you can’t quite seem to catch your breath, but you’re alive and so is he, and that’s all that matters. “Are you?”

“Yes,” he immediately says. “As long as you are.”

You look behind him to find an arrow stuck in a tree, but what alarms you more is the sight of blood on the tip. Immediately, you turn back to J, only to find the side of his arm covered in blood, bleeding right through his armor.

“Oh my God, J, you’re hurt,” you cry out, fumbling for something to stop the flow.

“I’m alright, Y/N, really,” he insists, placing a hand on top of your own, rubbing the back of it with his thumb for good measure. “It’s just a graze. I’ll be fine.”

“We have to take you back to the kingdom,” you push, already beginning to head back towards the gate.

“I’ve suffered worse injuries, Y/N, seriously,” he tells you, hoping to ease the pit of worry in your stomach. “I’m a top-ranked knight who prefers the battlefield over anything else. I’ve broken bones, gotten stabbed, and nearly died. This? It’s nothing. Really. Please, don’t worry.”

“We still have to get you back to the Kingdom and patch you up,” you insist firmly. “Even if you say you’re alright.”

“Whatever you say, Miss Y/N.” J goes with you obligingly, lets you walk him back to the kingdom gates.

You urge him into the local medical practitioner, sit him down on the bench and watch as the doctor bandages his wound, reminds him not to engage in any strenuous activity while it’s healing. He sits patiently, glaring at you slightly and rolling his eyes any time the doctor speaks, which is fairly frequently. It’s clear only one of you wants to be here right now, and it’s the one of you without a scratch on your body.

When the doctor leaves to tend to another patient, you get up from where you’re seated and sit down next to him on the bench, resting your head on his shoulder.

Working for the Kingdom makes you stronger. Sitting in the cafe makes you think. But being with him, standing by his side, it makes you wonder. It makes your heart race and your mind clear. It makes you feel safe.

“I think you saved my life,” you whisper softly, clutching onto him like a lifeline, like if you let go, one of you will drown.

But that’s not the case. Neither of you will let go. Not without the other. Never without the other.

“Really?” He asks. He already knows the answer.

“No, I know you did,” you tell him. Things are different now, but maybe they’ve always been like this. You just never noticed. “Because in a heartbeat, I would do the same for you.”

♚ HERE ♚

“I have not seen Seokjin all day,” Jimin comments loudly one day, making everyone immediately turn to Seokjins’ desk, which looks practically untouched. His computer is asleep, his chair is pushed in, and his desktop is empty. The only thing that suggests that the man is even here in the first place is the messenger bag resting against the desk drawers, though it doesn’t look like it’s even been opened today.

“Probably too busy avoiding you,” Yoongi deadpans, earning a “zing!” from Hoseok that makes you feel even more like you’re standing in the middle of a high school movie made by people who don’t know what high school is like.

“Is he even in today?”

“He is,” you pipe up. “His bag is here.”

“Of course you would know!” Taehyung teases, and he earns a highlighter to the face for his trouble.

“He’s probably just trying to get his work done in a place that doesn’t consist of screaming and constant insults being hurled across the room,” Jimin says with a sigh, turning back to his work. It’s a fair statement, especially when the environment in your office is most often distracting, loud, and not at all an ideal work environment. It’s an absolute wonder that any of you manage to get your work done while you’re here.

“Y/N, wanna go hunt him down?” Taehyung suggests, sending a wink your way as your eyes widen.

“No, absolutely not, no way. I will not be tricked by you again,” you say, very reminiscent of the last time you went to go look for Seokjin and ended up with a coffee-stained shirt and a group of coworkers who thinks the two of you hooked up that one time.

“If you say so…” Taehyung says, voice trailing off as he turns back to his work.

But for once in your life, Seokjin’s absence is more noticeable than ever. He’s become a fixture in your everyday office life, always stopping by your desk with a second cup of low-grade office coffee for you (with a lid, of course), sending you emails complaining about Jimin and Hoseok when they’re being loud, asking you for help on every one of his difficult font decisions for logo designs, drafting emails to clients with you. It’s a sort of closeness that you never really had before—sure, you worked together and often got paired up for projects, but it’s different now. Like you jumped ship on being just colleagues but instead of drowning, you began to float.

Five more minutes pass and you pretty much resign yourself to getting back to your work, knowing that Seokjin’s probably just grabbed his laptop and found a place where he can work in peace and quiet without Hoseok’s shrill voice interrupting his thoughts. You’ll have to ask him what place he’s discovered.

When there are four minutes left in the workweek and you are finally beginning to close out of the fifteen thousand tabs open on your Google Chrome window, the door busts open.

It doesn’t actually bust open, so much as Seokjin comes flying through it and it slowly goes to rest on the padded door frame like it’s been designed to. His tie is loose around his neck like he’s been tugging on it all afternoon, his laptop is clenched carefully between his arm and his torso, and he’s got a flurry of papers freeballing it in a stack in his hands.

“Oh my God, what tornado did you come from?” Jimin asks as Seokjin rushes over to his desk, cramming everything into his tiny messenger bag that definitely isn’t meant to fit a laptop and a stack of papers that thick.

“Sehun just dumped an entire project on me that’s due on Sunday at noon with no warning, and now I have to pull together fragments of a crumbling magazine label before their final review on Sunday afternoon,” he says, terribly out of breath. He’s scrambling to gather his belongings, crashing into anything within a two-foot radius of him.

“Dude, what the heck? I’m gonna tell Namjoon to kick Sehun’s ass,” Hoseok says with a frown, nose scrunched up. “Do you need help?”

“No, no, I’m alright, I can do it,” Seokjin insists, rubbing a hand through his hair as he leaves before the clock has even struck five.

“Are you sure? You look like you want to jump out of the window,” Hoseok asks again, just for clarification. He’s not wrong. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Seokjin become so stressed in such a short period of time before. “At least let one of us help you get settled back into your apartment.”

To your right, Taehyung whispers into Jungkook’s ear, who then does this sort of weird hand movement to Hoseok, who nods understandingly. It looks suspiciously like they just plotted someone’s murder.

“I can’t,” Jungkook says with an obnoxiously fake yawn, suddenly speaking much slower than usual, “I’m deadbeat tired.”

“Me neither,” Taehyung says, coughing in the way people do when they just want to get out of something. “I think I’m coming down with something.”

You whip your head around as everyone besides Yoongi comes up with an absolutely bullshit excuse not to accompany Seokjin to his apartment—Jimin says he has a date right after work and Hoseok says he needs to feed his puppy before he gets too hungry, leaving only you and a Yoongi that hasn’t been listening to the conversation whatsoever to vie for the spot.

“Yoongi?” You ask, somewhat desperate not to be the one to accompany Seokjin to his apartment. You turn to your head to glare at Taehyung, who shamelessly coughs again when he meets your eyes, smiling guiltily.

“Huh?” He asks, turning around.

“Fine, you know what? I can come with,” you say with a sigh, already grabbing your belongings as Taehyung and Jungkook high-five next to you.

“Oh, really? You’re a lifesaver, Y/N, you know that?” Seokjin says, and even when he’s stressed it’s like the weight has been lifted off of his shoulders once you volunteer, and you suppose that there are worse things that can happen than accompanying Seokjin to his apartment for ten minutes.

Seokjin gives you the address of his place so that you can drive to it yourself, the both of you pulling into the parking garage underneath his apartment complex at the same time, waving to each other from adjacent parking spaces.

“I really, really appreciate this, Y/N,” Seokjin says with a smile as he brings you into his apartment complex, nodding a friendly hello to the security officer in the lobby. “I know that it’s a Friday night and everything as well. You’d probably want to be doing something else.”

“Ah, yes, you know me, I frequent all of the clubs and bars in this city,” you say sarcastically as you walk into the elevator. Seokjin hits the button for the seventh floor and laughs. “Seriously, it’s not a big deal. It was a dick move of Sehun to drop this on you when it’s due in, like, thirty-six hours.”

“Tell me about it,” Seokjin says, exasperated as he leans back against the steel walls of the elevator. “I thought I would just get to go home this Friday night, pull up Netflix, and have a one-man movie night, but now I have to spend the next thirty-six hours doing this.”

“Well, you know all of us are just looking out for you, wanted to make sure you didn’t injure yourself from stress before you got back to your apartment,” you say as the elevator door dings. Seokjin leads you down the hallway to his door, sticking his key in and jiggling it until the door pops open.

Admittedly, you have never been in Seokjin’s apartment, but you it was like you had already painted a picture of it in your head from his personality traits alone. You thought it would be fairly minimalistic, clean and neat, not too many flashy colors or kitschy items but things like photographs and magnets to make it feel like an office and more like a home. Pictured it as a sort of very simple, modern home, like the ones that celebrities live in because they can afford to keep their belongings clean all the time, because Seokjin looks exactly like a celebrity, gorgeous and put-together.

Instead, Seokjin’s apartment is almost a hodgepodge of everything he could think to find to decorate, a stack of photobooks on his coffee table, slouchy leather couches wrinkled from wear, various kitchen supplies splayed all over his countertops. It’s the kind of place you can imagine him being in, existing in. You can see him standing behind his kitchen island with all of the ingredients and supplies for this wonderful dish he’s making littered across the counters. You can see him curled up on the couch, leaning against the corner of it to find that perfect spot, watching television.

There’s a difference between owning a place, and living in it. Living in it makes it feels like a home, like it’s real, and not just for show.

“Wow, your place is—”

“It’s really messy right now, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t expecting guests,” Seokjin says, letting his messenger bag plop down on the ground as he scrambles to make his living space nicer for you.

“No, I was going to say it’s lovely,” you tell him. “It feels exactly like you.”

“Does it?” Seokjin asks genuinely, a soft smile lacing his features. “Well then, thank you.”

You wait around in his apartment awkwardly, not really sure if stepping past the front of his couch is socially acceptable since you’re just “visiting” and he hasn’t officially invited you inside yet. The main objective of accompanying him to his apartment has already been accomplished: you made sure he got home safely and that he can do his work in peace. Finished. But even still, you’re hanging around, wondering when he’s going to kick you out for being a weird, unknown fixture in his home.

“Um, would you like to stay for dinner? I made soup last night and I have way too much for me to eat on my own,” he offers, opening up his fridge and taking out an enormous pot. It clinks as it hits his countertop, the metal sound echoing throughout his apartment.

“No, I wouldn’t want to intrude,” you say, taking this as your cue to remove yourself from the situation before you do anything else to make an absolute fool of yourself.

“I insist, please,” Seokjin says, stopping you in your tracks. “I may have a whole project to finish by Sunday, but we should at least spend this Friday night together, right?”

You look down at your shoes before looking up at him, meeting his eyes from where he stands behind his counter island.

“Then I will,” you say, removing your flats and padding over to where he stands, coming to a stop on the other side of the counter island. “But only if you let me help you with the project, too. It was asshole-y of Sehun to dump it all on you. At least let me handle some of the graphic aspects.”

“Y/N,” Seokjin says, reaching his hand out over the counter, “you have a deal.”

This deal mainly consists of you eating some of Seokjin’s homemade soup on his couches, your laptops on his coffee table and that ridiculously thick stack of papers spread out amongst you. Seokjin already has a fair bit of information about the project at hand, but he still has absolutely zero progress since he received the assignment four minutes before the end of the workweek.

“So, basically, what we have to do is re-organize the magazine’s overall design and aesthetic before their final review on Sunday, because if they don’t appeal to the publisher, they’re getting tanked,” Seokjin says, paging through the papers in search of a sketch.

“So we’re their last hope,” you summarize.

Seokjin nods. “We’re their last hope.”

“Great,” you say, not at all enthused. “No pressure at all.”

“I know. I’m so relaxed right now,” Seokjin says, clearly not relaxed.

“You know what’s making me relaxed? This soup,” you say, finishing the last of what’s in your bowl. “It’s delicious. I didn’t know you cooked.”

“It’s just a hobby of mine,” Seokjin says with a shrug. “I picked it up when I moved to college and didn’t know how to make anything except toast.”

“You’re a very fast learner, then,” you say. “I’d pay you to make all of my meals, honestly.”

“Would you like more? I have a ton, so we can eat it all if you’d like,” he asks, already standing up and reaching his hand out for your bowl.

You hand it over, shaking your head as he makes his way back to his little kitchen, ladling more soup into both of your bowls. “You’re too nice, Seokjin. Seriously. How am I supposed to pay back this kindness?”

Seokjin lets out a warm chuckle as he warms up your next serving in the microwave. “Believe me, Y/N, volunteering to take on this project with me with a due date in less than thirty-six hours is more than enough. You really don’t have to do this, you know.”

“No,” you tell him. “I want to. You deserve someone who’s willing to help you with big things like this. You shouldn’t have to deal with it all on your own.”

Seokjin grins as he returns, handing you your bowl of soup as you get back to work. “I don’t deserve you, Y/N.”

What was supposed to be a couple of hours spent grinding out a project over a shared pot of soup turns into a night’s worth of work, scribbles on paper and the redoing of the same logo fifteen different times on your computer’s much slower, less-updated version of Photoshop. The application crashes on three different occasions, causing you to nearly slam it into the wall, but you just try to look on the bright side. Find the silver lining. Of which there are none.

Seokjin doesn’t seem to be faring any better than you are. You’ve never seen the man under such pressure before, not in the office and certainly not while you’re out of the office. He’s tugged on a crewneck sweater over his dress shirt and paces around his apartment in bright pink slippers, brainstorming aloud as you bounce ideas off of each other in a panic.

“What if we rebranded them?” Seokjin suggests wildly. When you turn to look at the digital clock underneath his television, it says 11:17PM. You’re surprised he hasn’t collapsed underneath the pile of work he’s got on his plate.

“What do you mean? Do we even have the authorization to rebrand them?” You ask, pulling up a new tab on magazine marketing techniques.

“The project description says requests for anything that will keep them afloat,” Seokjin says. He immediately opens an old photobook, buried underneath your laptops, sketches, and papers, flipping through before he sits down right next to you on his slouchy leather couch. “What if we gave them more of a minimalist kind of style? They’re trying to jump off of this super quirky, very basic Urban Outfitters kind of aesthetic, but I think it makes the magazine too young, you know?” Seokjin suggests. “We could do something more grown-up, attract their market audience.”

“Are we allowed to do that?” You ask, thoroughly interested. Maybe Seokjin’s onto something.

“Who says we can’t?” Seokjin responds, and it’s good enough for you to hop on board.

Sitting in his apartment like this, brainstorming different ideas and collaborating on logo designs, magazine layout, and website design together, you are more productive than you’ve been in a very, very long time. Even as the night stretches on into the early hours of the morning, as you watch the clock turn from 1:00AM to 2:00AM to 3:00AM, the two of you are wide awake, the only things illuminating his apartment being a floor lamp by his television and the blue light of your laptop screens.

“It’s…” Seokjin yawns when it’s nearly four in the morning, pen slipping from his fingers, “so late.”

“I know,” you say back, feeling your eyelids beginning to sink. “I’m surprised we’ve even stayed up this long.”

“Haven’t been up this late since college,” Seokjin says, smiling hazily at past memories. “Always had code to finish for my class the next morning.”

“At least we get to sleep in now,” you joke. Even if you still have to finish putting together a brand new image for this magazine that’s about to go under, tomorrow is still a Saturday.

“Thank God,” Seokjin says, resting his head on the back of the couch cushion, letting his eyes flutter shut. “I feel like we did a lot tonight.”

“We were very productive,” you agree.

He yawns. “We work well together, don’t you think?”

“Hmm?” You ask, leaning over to move your computer from your lap to the coffee table, exchanging it for a sketchpad to keep brainstorming.

“I think,” Seokjin begins, and it must be just the sleepy haze his brain has entered rather than anything else that could spur him to express this, that makes him say, “that you and I make a perfect pair.”

You sit up straight at this, looking over at Seokjin as the pencil in between your fingers falls onto the sketchpad before rolling onto the floor. It looks like he’s fallen asleep, exhaustion finally overcoming him as all of the work he’s done catches up to him. In the dead of night, the only sound in the room is his soft breathing, chest rising and falling slowly as his mind begins to wander. You watch him, eyelids heavy, and think that he couldn’t have possibly thought that. No way would he say such a thing to you if he was perfectly cognizant, wide awake. After all, you’re the one with a crush on him, not the other way around.

You lean back, pondering why a man like Seokjin would ever invite you into his home, offer you soup, and shower you with subtle compliments that couldn’t just be friends being friends, and before you know it, your eyes fall shut.

It is nearly one in the afternoon by the time you wake up, the sunlight streaming in from the side of his apartment. It forces you to finally open your eyes, groaning as your blurry vision begins to clear.

That is when you register these four things in this order:

This is Seokjin’s apartment.

This is Seokjin’s apartment, in which you worked on a project with him last night.

This is Seokjin’s apartment, and you fell asleep on his couch.

This is Seokjin’s apartment, and he thinks that you’d make the perfect pair.

You hear a clink from across the room, and turn to find Seokjin, still wearing the same thing he was wearing last night, standing in his kitchen, pouring two glasses of orange juice.

“Morning,” Seokjin says. He pauses, then corrects himself. “Afternoon, actually.” He walks over to you, handing you a glass of orange juice as you rub your eyes, waking yourself up.

“How long have you been up?” You ask him, too tired to thank him out loud for the glass of orange juice.

“About an hour,” he says, checking the time. “I didn’t want to wake you up. You looked so peaceful.”

“I feel awful, I didn’t mean to intrude on your apartment for, like, an entire night,” you say, rubbing your forehead as you try to smooth out your hair, make yourself look less like you fell asleep at four in the morning in your gorgeous crush’s apartment.

“No, it’s alright, really,” Seokjin insists. “It was nice having company, for once. And I think we got a lot done.”

“I still feel bad, I didn’t mean to stay so long,” you say, looking around for your belongings as you try to gather your bearings.

“It’s fine,” Seokjin reassures you, sitting down on the couch next to you as he begins to clean up the absolute mess of the coffee table. “But your phone has been ringing nonstop, so someone must have missed you.”

You fumble around for your phone before finding it having slid in between the couch cushions, pulling it up to see three missed calls from Taehyung and two missed calls from Jungkook, as well as a slew of texts from the both of them.

“Oh, it’s just Taehyung and Jungkook,” you say with a shrug, deciding that now is not the time to bring them into the conversation. A quick scan of the texts gives you a rough summary of what you would have heard if you had answered their calls instead.

Taehyung (9:35AM): Y/N Taehyung (9:35AM): HELLO Taehyung (9:35AM): ARE YOU ALIVE??? Taehyung (9:36AM): YOU NEVER SLEEP THIS LATE ARE YOU OKAY??? Taehyung (10:03AM): I WENT BY YOUR APARTMENT AND YOU DIDN’T ANSWER IS EVERYTHING ALRIGHT Taehyung (10:04AM): TEXT ME 1 IF EVERYTHING IS OKAY AND 2 IF EVERYTHING IS NOT OKAY Taehyung (10:05AM): LAST TIME I SAW YOU YOU WERE GOING HOME WITH SEOKJIN DID HE MURDER YOU??????? Taehyung (10:18AM): oh Taehyung (10:18AM): oh wait Taehyung (10:19AM): OHHHHHHHHH Taehyung (10:20AM): ;)

Jungkook (12:18PM): Kingdom just started a new event! Get online with me and let’s crush this thing pleaseeeee

“Just want me to play Kingdom with them,” you say, ignoring Taehyung’s text messages and pretending like they don’t exist.

“You really like that game, don’t you?” Seokjin asks.

“Oh, they like it more than I do, really, I just try and keep the obsession to a minimum,” you say casually.

“But they always talk about how good you are,” Seokjin adds. “You’re ranked second, aren’t you? That’s a big accomplishment.”

“Yeah, but it’s not that exciting. I mean, it’s just a game,” you shrug it off.

“But you like it, which means that’s important,” Seokjin says. “You shouldn’t be ashamed of the things you like. They matter to you.”

“You think so?” You ask, smiling at him.

“I know so. Tell me about Kingdom,” he urges, nudging your side. “Please? I’d love to know.”

And for once, you don’t just shrug it off and brand it as a game you play occasionally. You let yourself love that game, for all it’s done for you and your friends (even if you aren’t the best anymore) and your happiness, and you tell Seokjin about it. About how you started playing it when you were bored one day during work and saw a forum on it. How you got the rest of the office hooked on it as well, even if they were much more obnoxious about it than you are. How you go home after a long day of work and log on, letting yourself relax as you weave your way through the rankings and quests, finding solace in the familiarity of it all. You tell him why you love it, and why you probably won’t stop playing it for a long time, no matter what becomes of your ranking.

“It was nice being ranked first, but I actually don’t mind whoever it is that’s taken over,” you tell Seokjin honestly. “Jungkook wants to hunt them down, but I think that, whoever they are, they deserve that spot. You know, I used to hate them because the top-ranked player gets all of the best rewards, but our characters have recently started to spend so much time together that I feel like they’d probably have fallen in love by now.” You chuckle to yourself. If life were a movie, everything would always work out perfectly.

“You do?” Seokjin asks, eyes wide.

“Yeah, of course,” you say. “They spend so much time together. Who wouldn’t, right?”

“I suppose you’re right,” Seokjin says, smiling. “I also have something to tell you.”

You shake your head. “Don’t tell me you’re obsessed with anime, please. That is where I draw the line.”

“Don’t shame us,” Seokjin says, a hand on his heart like he’s been personally offended. Your eyes widen. “I’m kidding,” he says, laughing as you exhale, relieved. “I actually play Kingdom, too. I just wanted to ask you about it.”

“Seriously? All this time and you just pretended like you had no idea what it was?” you say in disbelief. He’s been hiding this from you for how long? God, the rest of your office is going to have a field day with this information.

“I just wanted you to tell me about it,” Seokjin admits sheepishly.

You shake your head. “You could have talked to me about other stuff, you know.”

“I know, but you never talked about Kingdom and I could always see how much you loved it. It was nice, listening to you tell me about it,” he says.

“I’ve been betrayed,” you say dramatically, opening up your laptop to pull up the game. “What’s your ID? We can add each other.”

This is where Seokjin goes silent. “Actually, I think you might already know who I am. I’m above you in the rankings.”

Your mouth drops open.

“You’re JK0901? Are you kidding me?” You ask, absolutely floored. All this time and you had no idea that Kim Seokjin was a Kingdom expert. “What does JK stand for? I was convinced it was Jungkook and he was just lying to my face, but in reality, it was you who was lying to me!”

Seokjin lets out a chuckle. “Jin Kim. I’m surprised you guys didn’t figure it out earlier.”

“I can’t believe this,” you say, practically speechless. “How long have you been playing?”

“Not that long,” Seokjin shrugs. “I picked it up because I wanted to impress a girl I liked.”

“Really? All this effort for a girl you like?” You ask, still in disbelief. You suck up the way your heart is sinking at the thought of him liking another person, but then you remember that it wasn’t like you had ever made a move on him anyway. Smiling, you ask, “Will you at least humor me and tell me who it is?”

Then, Seokjin looks you dead in the eye, and says, “You.”

He doesn’t give you time to respond. Instead, he wraps a hand around your torso and pulls you into him, pressing his lips firmly on yours as you gasp into his mouth, body tensing up before you melt into his touch.

It’s a quick kiss, nothing too crazy, but it overwhelms you nonetheless, leaves you gasping for air like you’ve been underwater this whole time and have finally surfaced. When you part, you look up into his eyes only to find that they’ve turned into crescents. He’s grinning down at you like he’s finally gotten it right.

“You did all of that for me?” You ask. “How did you even know?”

Seokjin looks particularly guilty. “You’re not necessarily… that discreet, Y/N.”

You close your eyes, the heat already flaring in your cheeks. “Oh God, you knew?”

“It was fairly easy to figure out,” Seokjin admits. “But the good news is: I felt the same way. So, no harm done.”

“I’m so embarrassed,” you say, curling into his chest so you don’t have to look him in the eye.

“You’re incredible, Y/N, you know that?” He asks, pulling you away from him just so he can get a better look at you. He’s standing in front of you, looking at you like this is what he’s been waiting for. Like all this time, he’s been waiting for you. “I’d do it all over again if it meant I could end up with you.”

“You would?” You ask, pulling him in for another kiss. There’s plenty more where those came from, but you’re already feeling greedy. Why wouldn’t you? If life was a movie, then wouldn’t this be the happy ending?

“In a heartbeat.”

↳ links are broken, but don’t forget to message me with any thoughts or feedback!

↳ check out the post-script drabble here!

#seokjin fluff #seokjin angst #jin fluff #jin angst #bts fluff #bts angst #seokjin scenario #jin scenario #bts scenario #jin fic #bts fic #bts au #seokjin imagine #jin imagine #bts imagine #bts enemies to lovers #bts friends to lovers #w: for you anything

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cagestark · 5 years ago

Text

A Hole in the Head//3

Read here on AO3.

Peter stares at his reflection, assessing the image. The sweater he wears is dove gray, hemp-fiber and wide knit, giving a glimpse of his lean figure beneath—he likes the way it feels when he moves his arms and the knit brushes over his nipples (which are still tender from the loving abuse Tony delivered to them yesterday). A darling navy tumbled-fabric jacket and chinos complete the outfit, giving him a sense of elegance while remaining casual.

Usually he likes every item he wears to be on-brand, but Peter doesn’t own any Armani sunglasses. He needs the sunglasses, though. Today, he wants the extra security they give. He wants some control, wants his guard to not know where his gaze rests. So on slip the Salvatore Ferragamo sunglasses with the rose-gold frames, like armor.

After Peter’s embarrassing display yesterday, he’d spent the remainder of his afternoon and evening in his bedroom. He’d dropped after the sex, but only a little, lying shaky in a steaming tub while Tony fed him strawberries and licked the juice from his raw lips.

“Send him away, sir,” Peter had begged. “I don’t want a guard. I just want you.”

Tony smiles in a way that’s sad and soft and that Peter hates. “You didn’t feel that way when you were asking him to join us.”

“Do y’ think I’m a slut?” Peter asks. He doesn’t cry—but it’s a near fucking thing. Everything, inside him and out feels scratched raw. “Why am I still like this after what Beck did? What’s wrong with me?”

“Pete. Hey, kid, look at me. Look at me. Good boy. Don’t talk about yourself that way. Do you know what I’d do if anyone said that bullshit about you? I’d kill them, sweet thing. I’d gut them. I’d grind them into dust. Nobody talks about my boy like that, and that goes for you, too. You fearless fucking thing. God, you know it drives me crazy watching you lose your mind, no matter who it’s over. And I don’t think there’s a person in the world who could fault you for wanting Barnes. He’s art, isn’t he?”

Peter sits up, startled. Water splashes over the side of the tub and soaks Tony’s pants (the only thing he wears, tugged on hastily after their fucking) but he gives no notice. Pieces to a puzzle he didn’t know existed suddenly snap into place. “You like him too.”

“I like him as much as I can like anybody who isn’t you. I’d say it’s more lust than anything—some admiration too. I’ve seen him dismember a body in ten minutes flat, you know that? I don’t think he knows the meaning of the phrase weak stomach. He’s got my respect is what I mean.”

“More of your respect than Beck had?”

Tony sighs and lets one hand slip into the bathwater to take Peter’s pruning hand. “Short answer? Way more than Beck had. But Pete, it doesn’t matter anymore. Beck is deader than dead. Do we need to go and visit the hole I dumped him in to make sure? It’s been a while since we’ve visited. Maybe it would help you put it to rest.”

“And what about you?” Peter asks. He reaches out with the damp fingers of his free hand and runs a wet thumb beneath Tony’s eyes where the skin is thin and bruised looking from nights spent in insomnia and in poor sleep. “Are you resting?”

“I’m getting there,” Tony promises. “Barnes helps. We’re going to keep him, Pete. You’ve got to make peace with it.”

They’d spooned and spent the night in their room. Peter had stirred only briefly to Tony pressing a kiss to his forehead and giving him his love before leaving for the day. Plans are being drawn up for a Stark Industries tower in Manhattan, and Tony is up to his eyes with contractors and city planners and architects, spending more time away from the mansion in general. Though he doesn’t say anything, the knowledge is unspoken that Barnes is outside the door, that he will be Peter’s shadow from now on.

Peter is ready, though.

Every hair in place, he moves to the door and opens it. Barnes is there in the hallway. He has the room beside theirs to sleep in (and isn’t that fodder for Peter to consider when he’s jerking off in bed, thinking about thin walls and naked assassins tangled in the sheets), but from what Tony told him, Barnes doesn’t often sleep. The years he spent in Russia being trained in God-knows-what have changed him. It’s no wonder that most of the people in Tony’s employ speak of him like he’s a phantom.

Without acknowledging the other man’s existence, Peter goes downstairs and makes himself breakfast: organic overnight oats and avocado toast. Barnes takes up residence in a stool at the island countertop, eyes on his phone. He looks like a bored receptionist.

Maybe Peter should make things a little more interesting for him.

“I’m going to the mall,” Peter says off the top of his head. Because the best plans are the ones no one can see coming, including Peter himself. Barnes doesn’t flinch at the sudden words. His head turns slowly, eyes half-lidded as he stares at Peter blankly. Did they not have malls in Russia? Peter thinks with scathing glee. “This is me being nice and warning you.”

“Why?”

“Because you asked me to?”

“Why are you going to the mall?”

“To hang out? To windowshop? To shop shop? I don’t know. I’ll figure it out when I get there.”

“If you don’t have an objective, why do you want to go?”

Had he really spent so little time around normal humans that he’s forgotten the inherent illogic of them?

Something stirs in Peter’s gut, a strange mix of softness and exasperation. Like always, when he’s presented with two choices, Peter finds himself tempted by the worser one. He can’t help but put his hand to the flames; he loves being burned. “I just—oh my god. Look, I need to spend time outside of the mansion or I’ll lose my mind. I’m trying to leave in a safe way. Unless you’d like me to wait for when you’re taking a shit for me to climb out the window?”

Barnes shrugs one shoulder and goes back to scrolling through his phone.

Brown eyes narrow. If there’s one thing Peter does not like, it’s being ignored. It makes him see red, like blood is dripping down into his eyes. If you’re ignored, then you’re ignorable. There is nothing ignorable about Peter B. Parker.

“Shouldn’t you get a car for me or something?” Peter snaps. “Call me a cab?”

“I’m your guard, not your servant,” Barnes says, his voice rough from disuse.

Bust. Peter thinks for a long moment, chewing on his toast. At last, a smile spreads across his face. To his benefit, Barnes responds with a look of appropriate trepidation and scepticism. “That’s fine,” Peter says brightly, pushing away his empty plate. “I’ll get us a ride.”

Tony’s garage is fourteen-hundred square feet and houses six cars and two motorcycles. (His garage beneath ground houses much less legal and savory things, but Peter can’t open that with a press of the automated door opener) Barnes doesn’t look equipped to withstand the sunlight dressed in a black leather jacket that probably conceals far too many weapons and black fitted pants that appear too tight to conceal anything. Though judging by the organic bulge there, he’s certainly packing heat in a way that Peter would appreciate—

Peter opens the third garage door and Barnes squints into the darkness making out the shape of the Aston Martin One-77. It’s a beautiful car, almost supernatural with the allure it holds over most people, luring them in like fish to a pretty tackle. Barnes steps inside without being ushered by Peter. One hand reaches out to hover over the glossy surface as though he doesn’t dare touch it.

“You like?” Peter asks smugly.

“We’re not taking this,” Barnes says at length.

“Excuse me?”

“You don’t know the meaning of the word inconspicuous, do you, kid? You’re supposed to be laying low until Toomes is taken care of.”

“Come on. It’s New York City. Conspicuous is the new inconspicuous.”

Barnes doesn’t look impressed. “No.”

Peter prepares to argue but just manages to stop himself, gritting his teeth. Pick your battles, Pete, he tells himself. It’s no use dying on this hill. Not when he’s sure that he’ll find a much more satisfying hill to die on later in the day. He takes a deep breath in, holds it to the point of pain, and then lets it all out silently. “Fine,” he says at last. “We’ll take the Cadillac. Happy?”

“Thrilled,” says Barnes with all the joy of a pallbearer.

“You’re driving,” Peter says, plucking the keys off of their designated hook. He tosses them and Barnes catches them easily, the bastard. He’s so unflappable. Peter has no idea what it will take to get a reaction from him, but he can hardly wait to find out.

After adjusting all the mirrors and seats (Peter takes note of how far back the man has to adjust the seat to accommodate legs that are inches longer than Tony’s) Barnes sits stoic behind the wheel, unmoving.

“Any day now.”

“Put your seatbelt on.”

“Are you kidding me? I’m not twelve.”

“Put. On. Your. Seatbelt.”

“Make. Me,” Peter mocks. It’s worth it when Barnes reaches out faster than Peter can blink, wrapping a gloved hand so tightly around the seatbelt strap that hangs beside Peter’s neck that the leather of his glove creaks. The scent of leather and oil in Peter’s nose nearly makes his eyes roll back before Barnes pulls his arm back towards the console, jabbing the seatbelt into place.

“Safety first,” Barnes snarks.

Turns out, it’s a good fucking idea: safety.

While he drives them from the secluded suburban house into the city, he breaks every traffic law known to man. Maybe he’s doing it to frighten a reaction from Peter, but if so, he’s going about it in all the wrong ways. Peter is a total adrenaline junkie. The swoop in his stomach he feels at every descent over a hill, the way his body is pressed to one side or another when Barnes makes a turn at double the recommended speed—all it does is take his breath away, make his head spin.

When they begin to enter the city, Barnes is forced to adhere to more conventional traffic laws, but Peter is already looking forward to the drive home. He glances at the older man’s profile, not bothering with subtlety. Sunlight lights up the edge of him, emphasizing the perfect slope of his nose and the defined jaw.

“What?” Barnes asks.

“What, what?”

“You’re staring at me.”

“You’re hot. Sue me.”

Barnes lets a sarcastic breath come out his nose. Peter takes the lack of response as a chance to turn fully in his seat, the belt straining across his chest. “What?” Peter asks. “Has no one ever told you that before?”

“Told me what?”

“How hot you are.”

“Is this a real question?” Barnes wonders, face expressionless, voice unwavering.

“Very real. When’s the last time someone told you that you were hot?”

“About thirty seconds ago.”

“God, you’re no fun,” Peter says. “You’re like Steve Rogers Junior or something. Turn up here onto the one-way. I want to go to Brookfield Place.”

No matter the time of day, everything is always busy in Manhattan. The mall is no exception, and Barnes has to go up three different floors before he finds a satisfactory spot in the parking garage. Going into the mall with the other man is a downright surreal feeling. Peter can’t help but wonder what they look like together: Barnes’s hulking, gothic mass and Peter’s petite, borderline-preppy figure. But if Peter thought that he would get the chance to interact with Barnes here, he was mistaken. The man cuts away from Peter and disappears among the sea of bodies, probably to do something like maintain a superior vantage point. Despite being amongst so many people, Peter feels the keen sting of loneliness.

He hates when Tony spends so much time working.

Determined to make the best of his time, he stops by Davidoff’s and buys the cigars Tony likes. There’s a lighter too that catches his eye: S.T. Dupont, brushed palladium. Peter doesn’t know much about lighters except that he loves the way they look in Tony’s hands, the way he opens them with sure, practiced fingers.

Feeling a little cheerier (spending money has that effect on him, maybe a side effect from so many years of poverty in Queens, but Peter’s no therapist) he crosses over to the new Louis Vuitton store. Tony doesn’t step foot here—it’s ultra-gauche to him, and Peter finds a giddy little thrill in being surrounded by clothes he knows Tony would make a sour face at. He picks a few items that are the least offensive and steps into a private luxury fitting area.

When he steps out of the fitting room to test his stride in the tight denim pants, Barnes is sitting in one of the chairs with his ankle resting on his knee. He looks out of place among the luxury and colors.

“What are you doing here?” Peter wonders.

“I can’t keep eyes on you when you’re in a fitting room,” Barnes says around a scowl. “Stick to the open areas.”

“What’s the use of going to the mall if I can’t try on clothes?”

“I’m not seeing the use of being here at all,” says Barnes, tucking one leg up to rest his ankle on his knee. Peter grits his teeth. It isn’t fucking fair that the guy is so attractive and repulsive all at the same time, that he has a body Peter wants to worship but an attitude that makes him want to take the elevator up to the top floor of the mall and jump off. Splat.

Peter ducks into the fitting room without a word and tugs on his clothes in a cold fury. I’ll show him, he thinks, tucking his shirt into pants. Anyone who tries to fit a collar around Peter’s neck finds that he’s not afraid to pull on the leash, even if it’s a bad idea, even if it chokes himself. Barnes will see.

When he comes out dressed, Barnes lifts both eyebrows.

“I’m going to go and get a shirt to match those pants.”

“No,” Barnes says, slowly, like Peter is a child. “We’re leaving.”

“One more shirt, and I’ll go without a fuss.”

Barnes weighs his options, gray eyes flickering from side to side while he thinks. At last, he says, “Be quick, kid. Or else.”

As soon as Peter is free of the fitting room, he turns towards the doors of the store and begins to walk briskly. Once he’s free of the store itself, he lets himself jog to the escalator. He goes up to the top floor to throw Barnes off in case he’s already looking, ducking into the stairwell and then sprinting down them to the ground floor, narrowly avoiding bumping into a man counting his change at the vending machine.

The feeling inside him is like euphoria. It’s the way he felt in the car with Barnes behind the wheel taking turns at ninety miles per hour. He imagines that he can already hear the pounding of boots behind him, but when he turns around, there is no one there. Barnes is probably just realizing that Peter made a run for it, and when he catches the younger man (when, Peter notes distantly, even in his mind he knows now that he will never be able to escape the man, he is always the rabbit running just out of reach of the dog’s jaws) the punishment—well Peter can hardly imagine what he’s in for.

Peter comes out of the mall and into the sunlight. He turns away from the parking garage and begins to stroll down the street, hoping to god no civilians passing by take note of his half-hard cock. Heart pounding, Peter glances back over his shoulder, looking for a figure dressed in black and towering over the others, but there is no sign of the assassin—

Until a hand grips his wrist and pulls him into an alleyway.

The breath goes from Peter’s lungs and for a moment he feels true fear. He goes for his strap but the figure knocks him off balance, urging him further into the darkness and away from any prying eyes who might glance down the alley. A body presses him into the brick wall of the building, skewing his sunglasses.

The hand that rests palm flat on the bricks beside Peter’s face is gloved in black leather.

“You think this is fucking funny?” Barnes whispers hotly into Peter’s ear.

“Maybe not funny, but I’m having a good ti—ow, fuck, watch it!” Barnes grabs the sunglasses and crushes them in his hand, glass littering the ground. “You asshole! Those were four hundred dollars!”

The pressure against his back increases until he struggles to take in a breath. Gasping for air, Peter grabs at the wrist beside his face, struggling to make known his urgency. All at once, Barnes turns him around so they face each other, the back of Peter’s head thudding against the brick wall. He grits his teeth against the pain and goes to knee the taller man in the balls. But it’s a move Barnes has been expecting, kicking Peter’s legs apart and planting himself between his thighs.

The position is more than intimate. There’s no way Barnes can’t feel Peter’s erection, pinning his pelvis to the wall the way he is. Their chests brush with every breath, and one of those strong, leather clad forearms presses against Peter’s throat, a threat that has his blood singing.

“Do you want to die?” Barnes asks him through his teeth. “Because this is how it happens. By not listening to me. By running from me. Tony told me you were smart, but all I see is a little boy playing grown-up games. It’ll break your daddy’s heart when Toomes gets his hands on you, and who do you think he’s going to blame? His brainless little baby? Or me?”

It’s a good thing Barnes’s arm cuts off Peter’s ability to speak, because at least that way he can blame it on anything but the shame he feels, the embarrassment that ties his tongue. He struggles and writhes more out of instinct than real hope of escape, and during one undulation, his stomach brushes against a distinct hardness.

Peter freezes, eyes wide. Barnes’s eyes expand fractionally before narrowing even more, his jaw working as he grits his teeth. Arching more, Peter makes contact again. Barnes pulls him away from the wall for just an instant before jerking him back in admonishment. The rough bricks catch his hair and make his head ache, but it’s secondary. It’s all secondary.

Because Barnes is hard.

Peter begins to laugh. Even when the forearm pressed against his throat presses forward maliciously until no more noise can slip past his lips, Peter can’t stop shaking. Head spinning, Barnes gives him space to breathe before he can slip into unconsciousness and Peter gasps for air only to give it up again in laughter.

Winning is so fucking sweet.

“I finally got a reaction out of you,” Peter rasps, eyes wet from the hilarity of it all. He bends at the waist, gagging, working to catch his breath. The whole time, Barnes watches with an expression that Peter can’t deduce, head tilted as if Peter is some microbe beneath a microscope that needs further studying.

“Oh, right,” Barnes says at last, mouth curling upwards cruelly. He takes a step back to lean against the opposite brick wall, lounging there in a way that looks far too comfortable. Doubt sprouts in Peter’s mind and sours the joy of his victory. Whatever is brewing behind Barnes’s empty, smug eyes isn’t something Peter’s going to like. “I forgot. About your self-esteem issues.”

That sucks the last bit of laughter from Peter’s lungs. “Excuse me?”

Barnes crosses his arms. At length, he says, “Yeah. You know. How you correlate your own self-worth with the number of people who are sexually attracted to you. How if nobody has a hard-on looking at you, then you feel like shit. Because you are shit. That what you needed, kid? Needed to feel like more than just a poor orphan from Queens who sucks a powerful man’s dick to get affection and protection?”

Peter’s blood boils. He feels himself shaking, fists clenched tight at his sides. For a moment, he thinks about drawing his concealed carry and pointing the barrel right at Barnes’s pretty fucking face just to see the smug expression drain from it. “You’re just talking out your ass right now because you have a hard-on for me. Must suck being human like the rest of us!”

They’re both hitting new lows, finding cracks in the armor of the other person, because Barnes’s face twists into fury and he pushes away from the wall until they are nearly chest to chest again (and the size difference, Jesus, Peter has to look up at the guy, and that doesn’t even speak to how broad the other man is, bulky where Peter is lithe and willowy). Through his teeth, Barnes wonders: “What do you want from me? Jesus, if I knew you’d be such a fucking brat, I never would have taken this goddamn job!”

Peter pokes a finger into that broad, hard chest. “Right now? I want you to admit that you want to fuck me!”

Barnes grabs him by the shoulder and shoves him back into the wall, pulling Peter upwards so that when he presses their bodies together, their cocks meet. Both of them are still hard. “Fine,” he snarls, breath wafting over Peter’s face. “I want to snap you in half from fucking you so hard. I jerked off last night wondering which I’d like more, to cum in your ass or all over that smart fucking mouth. Listening to you and your daddy fucking made me harder than I’ve been in my entire life. Is that what you want? Is this what you want?”

“Yes,” Peter chokes, eyes rolling. His hips thrust even though there is no space, even though the man is front of him is as yielding as the brick wall behind him, the pressure on his cock making stars burst in the back of his brain. “Yes, I want it all, I want it all.”

Barnes drops him. The loss of contact has Peter’s head rushing. The man leans forward until their faces are inches apart, close enough to kiss if they so wanted, and for a moment Peter’s eyes even flutter only to be dropped back into reality when Barnes speaks: “But it’s never going to happen. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever. This is my job. The last guy who fucked you on the job got himself killed, and I’m not looking to follow in his footsteps.”

Peter is left gaping as Barnes steps back to put space between them again. It had all seemed so close, but now it had slipped through his fingers like sand in a clenched fist, like water down a drain. His mouth opens but no words come out. No words.

“Get over it, Peter,” Barnes says solemnly. “And quit trying to get the both of us killed.”

#winterironspider #nff #mafia au #cagewrites #ahith

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ishouldbestudyingprobably · 5 years ago

Note

Hey uh- could i request another barley x reader? the previous one was so cute! maybe some sort of date night one-shot? whatever you chose!❤️

Thank you so much for requesting!! I’m gonna become the CEO of Barley fanfics LOL! (I’d gratefully take that title tho)

To put you on a bit of context, this takes place AFTER the movie unlike my previous one-shot, of course I’ll try to keep it as spoiler free as possible considering the movie is going to come out to Disney + in just a few days and some of you haven’t seen it yet, but maybe I slip something so, please beware.

Also, I have been reading more fanfics in English recently and noticed they are written in a you-did-this-and-said-that way instead of how we do them in Spanish; I’ll be continuing to them in my way unless you guys tell me it annoys you or something.

WELL, SORRY FOR KEEPING YOU WAITING, LET’S GET TO IT! ALSO THIS IS SO LONG SORRY--

(Y/N) definitely had no idea how she ended up on the Lightfoot’s home. Now, listen, it’s not that she didn’t like them ‘cause she as hell did it was just confusing considering a few hours prior to that she was just walking around the neighborhood.

“Ian, come on! Show her your magic!” Barley was having a hard time since he was trying so hard to make his little brother show the girl how his magic worked and poor Ian was shy about it, sure his confidence had been boosted but, come on, that was way too much pressure.

“Barley it’s okay, really, I believe you. I bet it’s amazing and you guys make an incredible team together. Let Ian go.” the girl chuckled seeing as the smaller elf smiled thankful and made his way out of the room feeling relieved.

“What? No! Ian get back here!!” see, the boy with a cast on his arm was hoping to use his brother as an excuse to have the female the longest time possible by his side, he was definitely going to ask her on a date but needed that boost of confidence being in a room with people gave.

Although now that they were alone he wouldn’t lie saying it wasn’t enjoyable, but soon that intimate moment of piece was to be broken by the young girl standing up making the bed rigid on the side she had been sitting on.

“This was... fun. But I really should get going home, my family would be worried plus it’s lunch time and... You know.” (Y/N) tried to excuse herself as politely as possible seeing as how she didn’t want to give the impression she wasn’t having fun and didn’t enjoy the presence of the older son of the Lightfoot’s family. Barley soon realized he had to jump now and ask her out or he’d never get the chance to. “Would you like to meet me? Alone? Maybe drive around, have dinner...” the boy put on his widest smile as if that were going to make her accept his invitation.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait. Are you... Asking me out? On a date? Tonight?” the girl replied trying to hide her grin while putting a strand of her voluminous hair behind her pointy ear which had efficiently caught the male’s attention. “I wouldn’t call it a date, more like a quest to make you fall in love with me because I totally am and it would be pretty cool if you did as well? But, you could always call it a date, I wouldn’t correct you even though you’re completely wrong.” that was enough to make the small elf chuckle which made Barley’s heart skip a few beats.

“It’d be a pleasure to help you complete this quest oh-so-awesome Barley Lightfoot. How about 8? No need for formal clothes, quests don’t require suits or dresses.” now it was him who was chuckling, how couldn’t he? His friend had never ever ever played his favourite roleplaying game yet always tried her best to make as much references to it without completely failing at the process, it was adorable. “8 sounds amazing. Farewell, oh-so-cool-to-play-games (Y/N) (S/N).”

And so the time came and the bell started ringing; one, two, three, four times and just as the fifth was about to made itself present the girl rushed to the door “Okay, okay got it! I’m coming!” grabbing the door handle she opened it revealing the young elf wearing a suit -well, a modified one since the sleeves of his jacket were completely gone and decided to wear jeans with the suit, formal for sure- contrasting with her usual clothing. “We said no dressing up!” the boy just shrugged and clearing his throat he moved to the side revealing Guinevere 2 in all its glory. “Shall we get going?” the girl smiled and gladly accepted getting out and making sure to close the door.

They made their way to the van and Barley hurried to open the door of the passenger seat bowing as his friend got inside and closed the door trying -and failing- to hide his smile. As soon as they were both seated the boy opened her mouth and took a folded piece of paper from his pocket. “So, (Y/N)... I hope your ready for our quest because I’ve been planning this all day!” slowly the boy opened the folded paper showing a drawn map of different places in Mushroomton that he thought would be of interest and appropriate for a date surprising his companion in the process. “Did you realy do that? That’s so impressive…” the male just smiled and motioned for her to hold the map and turned on the engine.

“Now my incredible partner, tell me, which is the first stop?” he couldn’t help the excitement his tone glad everything was going according to plan at the moment.

“Uhm, well, the exciting-full-of-teenagers house of fun?” what kind of name was that? The drawing didn’t really gave much about the place either, not only because his art skills weren’t exactly… Clear?

But because he modified them to be fitting on the Quests of Yore world. “Heading there!” and just like that the car drive began. They both were constantly talking and joking, it may have been a date-quest thing but after all they were still friends, why would they be quiet?

When they finally arrived to the place she got out the car excited to see what it was about and found a luminous neon sign indicating the entry to the arcade.

“The arcade was the exciting-full-of-teenagers house?” again the elf just shrugged grinning which made the female roll her eyes. “Amazing! I’m actually thinking this is going to be the greatest day of my life…”

What can I say? Videogames were definitely something they both were extremely good at and that sparked a tiny competition between them. Driving games? You bet! That knock the clown game that’s always typically seen in carnivals at those cheesy romantic movies? Yup! In the end they decided to count the tickets each one got to decide a winner.

“I’ve got… 238 tickets, how about you, Lightfoot?” the boy didn’t seem happy and (Y/N) soon knew he was dreading his defeat. “I got 197....” mockery could be heard from the female’s lips before they cut off the rivalry and decided to combine both of their tickets getting 435 tickets which were enough for…

“A unicorn rubber?!” the girl sighed as they were gettin in the car again. “I hate this stupid games, they’re fun but you alway have to win around a billion tickets to actually WIN something.” she continued ranting, something Barley found really entertaining but cut her off mid sentence as they were running out of time. “When did you have to get home?” it effectively cut her off. There was a small silence

before she could respond “Around 10 I believe, you know how they are…” he just nodded and looked at his watch; it was 9:17 meaning they had to do a shortcut on their plans.

“Okay, we’re runnin out of time, skip the following two places and tell me the next one after them.” she did as asked and traced the drawn road with her fingers. “It says brainwash.” an odd name for sure.

“Brainwash it is.”

Of course, brainwash was referring to movies, they were going to watch a movie specifically a drive in movie, is there anything more romantic than that? No.

“Barley… This is so sweet, thank you! What movie are they playing?” turning her head towards the giggly boy she asked nothing but amusement in her face. “No idea. I’m gonna go grab popcorn, make yourself comfortable on top of Guinevere 2, please.” just like that he was gone and (Y/N) had a new adventure, finding the way she could get on the van’s roof.

After a while Barley got back with a huge stack of popcorn finding her loved one on the roof, smiling to himself he admired all of her features. Soon he got on top shaking the oh-so-special van on the process. “Here’s the popcoooorn!” he announced with an excited tone and put them between him and the girl.

The movie was ten minutes in and no noise was heard but the sound of chewing popcorn. Leaning in the female asked in the boy’s ear “Do you like this movie?” he replied in a whisper “No it’s so boring.” that’s when they both started laughing being shushed by the cars around them. “Let’s get out of here. We still have twenty minutes left.” Without bothering to take the popcorn they both walked north finding a calm forest where they laid on the grass looking at the sky. “So, Barley, is it true? That you like me?”

That was a very direct question he definitely wasn’t prepared for “Well, of course it is! You’re an incredible girl, an incredible friend and I bet you’d be an incredible girlfriend!” the girl chuckled making Barley’s heart melt. And then, he asked “Do you like me?”. Silence hurts, so much, but before any assumption could be made she replied “Yes, of course I do.”

Silence again.

“So, have you completed your quest now?” (Y/N) curiously asked. “I still have one more thing to do.” and, the kiss came.

QUEST COMPLETED.

Oh boy was that long... Hope you enjoyed your request and for everyone else, request! Don't be shy!

TAGLIST:

@ferox-imagines @s-ferox

#onward x reader #onward #barley lightfoot x reader #barley x reader #barley lightfoot #barley #ian lightfoot #ian #onward barley

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pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles · 5 years ago

Text

Wicked Game (Part 3)

Word Count: 25K total The first part is about 5K, part 2 is 7K

Rating: 18+ Slash fic Strong language, alcohol and drug use, and a misogynistic and racist comment. Sexual scenes including masturbation, toys, voyeurism, oral, and anal sex.

Summary: Ashton is ready to move on with his life after his painful divorce from Luke and the demise of the restaurant they’d built together. With the help of his protegee and sous chef Hima Singh, Ashton is ready to take on opening weekend of his new restaurant Anne-Marie’s. Calum is a reporter filling in on an assignment and is surprised when his past comes back to haunt him. Hima arranges an interview that takes an unexpected turn between the two men.

Part 1

Part 2

Ashton jumped at the sound of the buzzer. Calum sent him a text telling Ash he was on his way so he knew he was coming, but he was so jittery it startled him anyway. He checked the time, 5:15 pm. 35 minutes to get here? That's good he doesn't live too far. Ashton held a bottle of cologne up and away from him, released three quick spritz into the air before walking through the cloud of fragrance. He made his way out of the bedroom, pausing for one final glance in the mirror. He brushed the soft brown curls off his forehead, his eyes reflexively checking his hairline. He silently thanked Hima for convincing him to get treatment. You could barely see the previously thin spots. Don't keep him waiting. You're ready for this.

Ashton opened the door and barely caught himself from gasping out loud. Hot Damn. His chest fluttered in a rush as his throat constricted. He didn't know where to look. Calum was holding a gift basket with three flavors of Ashton's favorite hot sauce but that wasn't what had his mouth watering. His eyes landed on Calum's hands holding the gift before trailing up to where his bronzed biceps disappeared into a crisp, red short-sleeve button up with one of those black tank tops he favored. His gaze lingered on the small gold necklace nestled against Calum's throat before dragging his eyes up to find the other man watching him with a shy smile.

"Hima said this was your favorite," Calum blurted out, pushing the basket into Ashton's chest.

"It is, thank you so much. Please come in," Ashton blushed hot pink as he gestured for Calum to follow him into the apartment.

Calum got a whiff of Ashton's scent as he turned away from him, causing his spine to tingle at the memory of the missed opportunity that night in the club. His eyes followed Ashton's broad back, unable to resist a quick glance at his tight little butt. Hima mentioned her boss's daily yoga routine, and the black jeans he had on left very little to Cal's imagination. Pay attention Hood. You're here for an interview, not to get laid, he reminded himself. Por qué no los dos? a tiny voice asked that definitely wasn't from his brain.

Ashton was equally grasping to get his thoughts together, but having Calum in his house made everything much more real.

"Go ahead and have a seat," he motioned for Calum to sit down at the bar while he entered the kitchen. "Would you like something to drink? I have pink lemonade, mango infused sweet tea, and wine."

"Sweet tea sounds good. I'll have that if you don't mind," Calum sat on one of the tall stools facing Ashton in the kitchen.

Ashton garnished the drink with a slice of fresh lime, and Calum grinned as he handed it to him.

"Always the artist," Calum remarked. "Hima was going on about that. She's very observant, and you're lucky she loves her job because she'd make an excellent reporter. I might steal her away yet."

"Good luck getting past her mom," Ashton giggled. "All of them really, she's got a twin brother who's crazy overprotective and more cousins than I can count. My family was just me, mom, and the kids so it's a bit much."

"Where's your family from?" Calum asked.

Ashton leaned against the kitchen island, his eyes fixed just above Calum's head.

"I was born in Sydney, Australia. My dad fucked off when I was a baby, and my mom moved us around a lot. She got remarried when I was ten and had my brother and sister. We moved to the US soon after, and when they moved back I was a junior in high school, I decided to stay here. That's when I got a job in a kitchen doing dishes and grunt work."

"Did you know right away you wanted to be a chef?"

"Hell no," Ashton laughed. "I was miserable and living with three guys in a grimy apartment. I was trying to go to school and worked till close most nights. I got into a really bad fight with one of my roommates. He was a big, ugly bastard, ignorant homophobic piece of shit. He accused me of stealing his weed and attacked me. I was in the hospital getting stitches when my boss showed up and dragged me home with him. They put me up in the basement, bought me a bus pass, and he gave me a raise. Did you ever get to eat at Bordeaux?"

Calum shook his head. "Never had the money or the clout. Didn't they sell it?"

Ashton stepped up to the sink to wash his hands, setting his rings in a crystal tray on the edge of the windowsill. "Yeah, after his heart attack, his wife Brigitte made him give it up. She's a force of nature, that woman. She taught me everything I know about baking and pastries. Baking is when science meets art. Cooking leaves wiggle room; you can improvise. But baking doesn't allow for carelessness or impatience."

He dried his hands before he pulled an object out of the fridge and placed it on the counter, unwrapping the plastic wrap.

"I made mushroom Wellington for dinner, and getting the puff pastry dough right takes time. It's an all-day process because every couple of hours you have to roll it out and fold it so the butter gets folded layer over layer. That's what makes it rich, fluffy, and delicious. There's no way to shortcut that." He placed the pastry in a shallow baking pan and pulled a small bowl out of the fridge. "I'm brushing it with egg wash so it'll get nice and golden brown in the oven." He pulled out a small knife from the block and twirled it between his fingers. He narrowed his eyes, the tip of his tongue peeking out from between his lips as he concentrated, making several small quick shallow cuts. He grabbed a couple of bottles and carefully sprinkled seeds and spices on the surface before looking back up at Calum.

The intensity in the other man's eyes stopped him short. "Am I talking too much?" Ashton asked, feeling his face flush yet again.

"No, not at all. I uh, almost forgot I'm supposed to be interviewing you," Calum stammered a bit, embarrassed to be caught staring. "So tell me, where did you go after you left Bordeaux?"

As soon as the words left his mouth Calum wanted them back. That would be when he met Luke, you dumbass. Of course, his brain was a step behind his mouth. To his relief, Ashton shook his head with a sharp laugh.

"Yeah, that old story. Why don't you tell me a story I don't already know?"

Ashton pulled another pan from the fridge and set it next to the oven. "Both of these have to bake for about thirty minutes. You can tell me a little about yourself while I make the salad. I don't like to talk while I'm using a knife, but I'm a great listener."

"Are those figs? I'm starting to think you're trying to impress me," Calum's eyes crinkled in a smile and Ashton's chest fluttered once again.

"Maybe I am. Is it working?" Ashton spoke before he thought about it. Ooh, look at you flirting.

"Oh it's working alright," Cal's voice took on a husky edge that gave Ashton a victorious little thrill, knowing he wasn't imagining the heat between them. "Do you need me to help with anything?"

Ashton smirked, dirty thoughts racing through his brain. His dick twitched in his pants, eager for Calum's help, but then those dark eyes went wide as he realized what he said. The reporter nervously licked his lips and looked away while Ashton gripped the countertop to keep his knees from buckling.

"I'm good, thanks," Ashton replied, needing to keep Calum at a distance if he wanted to have any concentration to make it through dinner. "Are you trying to get out of talking about yourself?" He cut a thick slice off the largest fig, speared it, and offered it to Calum off the point of his knife.

Calum plucked it from the blade and popped it in his mouth, his eyes rolling back in pleasure as he chewed. Ashton had to cough to suppress a whimper at the sight, his jeans now uncomfortably tight.

"One of the best things about being a reporter is not having to talk about yourself. My mom taught me to choose my words and my friends carefully. However, to be a good journalist, I have to be able to completely open myself up to each experience while not making it about me. I want to be the reader's guide to the story, not the star of my own show. I leave the primadonna bullshit to my coworker Felipe, or someone like Kevin Mackie."

Ashton chuckled, "Did you see his review of Anne-Marie's? Ass-kissing prick, he's banned for life."

"Did you really throw him out of your restaurant? What did he say?,” Calum leaned forward, eager for details. “Hima wouldn't tell me. I wish I could've seen that."

"She doesn’t know it all. I didn’t want to tell her, but he insulted her personally. He even managed to be racist and condescending while doing it. He's a twat. I was willing to grit my teeth and endure it because it's Mackie, and we all have to deal with him, but you’re not going to insult my friends. I can't even think about it without getting angry again" Ashton spat out the words and Calum's eyebrows went up in surprise. Ashton continued, trying to steer the conversation away from having to repeat the vile things he'd said. "You already know he brought up all the past drama and even asked me if I'd gone to the Galway Grill."

"You're kidding," Calum couldn't help but laugh. "Seriously, though, that place looks awful."

"It really does. You can tell they rushed the opening. Those tacky plastic decorations, if you thought Lune Rouge was gaudy," Ashton had to stop working because he couldn't stop giggling, which only got Calum laughing harder.

"Did you see the fucking menu? The Irish puns, it's so bad. The best part is that it's not supposed to be awful," Calum said.

"No, yeah, exactly it's supposed to be clever and fun, but it just comes off like a pretentious dickhead."

A loud alarm caught them off guard, and Ashton quickly silenced his phone and grabbed an oven mitt. He checked the temperature of both dishes before turning them around and putting them back in the oven. Calum had the hiccups and asked for a glass of water between breaths.

Calum hiccuped while trying to take a drink and began to sputter and cough. Ashton grabbed a towel as he came out of the kitchen and around to the other side of the bar. Calum covered his face and tried to catch his breath, but as he did, he became aware of Ashton's hand rubbing his back. His eyes still watering, he glanced over to see nothing but concern in the other man's face. Calum saw up close that Ashton's eyes seemed to shift color depending on how the light hit his face. He noticed the dimple on Ashton's chin and the rough patches of skin bearing faint scars from his teenage acne, the little bit of stubble under his bottom lip he'd missed when he shaved that morning, lips that were almost irresistibly close. Calum remembered he probably looked a hot mess and needed a minute to himself.

"Can I use your bathroom?" He asked from behind the towel.

"Sure, it's the first door down that hall," Ashton stepped back and let him pass.

Calum closed the door behind him and took a quick look in the mirror. His face was still red but it was slowly fading. He took a piss and blew his nose before washing his hands and splashing some water on his face. The towel hanging on the rack was super soft and Calum could tell it was expensive even if he didn't recognize the brand. He took a second to look around, and while the rug looked as soft as the towels, everything else seemed to be made of bamboo. In fact, the only plastic Calum saw was a bottle of mouthwash on the sink. It was rude to look in the medicine cabinet, but he peeked in the shower. He smelled sandalwood and citrus, noticing they not only used the same brand of shampoo bar, but the shower enema attachment was identical to the one in Calum’s shower. He began to worry he was taking too long, so he took another look in the mirror before opening the door.

Ashton was setting Calum's salad up on the bar next to a fresh glass of tea when he sat back down.

"Ooh thank you so much. This looks fantastic, is that feta?" Calum asked, suddenly realizing he was hungry.

"It's actually honey-basted goat cheese. The dressing is a turmeric and honey vinaigrette. I like the extra touch of sweetness. I grew the lettuce in my little balcony garden out back, along with most of my fresh herbs." He stopped talking and watched Calum eat. He'd never seen anyone go through such a range of expressions while eating. He was clearly enjoying himself. Ashton felt like he was being intrusive for staring, nevermind the thrill he got watching the other man's bliss. If he makes these faces while eating, I'm dying to see what he looks like when he's cumming, he thought.

Calum opened his eyes and caught Ashton blatantly staring. He met his gaze as Calum ran his finger along the underside of his bottom lip to catch a tiny drop off dressing from spilling down his chin and slowly licked it clean. He smirked when he saw Ashton blush and look away. Aren't you supposed to be working? A little voice reminded him, but he ignored it. "That was delicious, I can't wait to taste what's next."

Ashton smirked and started to reply when his phone rang. He started to hit ignore until he saw it was his mother.

"Sorry, it's my mom. I have to answer this," Ashton swiped up to answer. "Hey Mom, hold on one second. I'm sorry about this," he said, covering the mouthpiece.

"Thanks, and don't apologize. It's your mom, I get it," Calum told him.

"Yeah Mom, I've got company. Yes the interview, mmm-hmm, yeah. No, I'm home, but he's here. Yes, right now. No Mom it's not like that. I'll call you later. Love you too, bye." Ashton hung up and turned back to Calum. "Sorry about that."

"Please, it's no big deal. I talk to my mom every day, too, and it's not like I didn't know you were a Mama's boy," Calum grinned. "Hima told me, and you did name your restaurant after her."

"Hima talks too much," Ashton rolled his eyes with a laugh. "Yeah, my mom is my lucky star. We've been through a lot together, and she's the only one who's always had my back. I rely quite a bit on the women in my life, honestly. Lauren, my sister, is one of my best friends, along with my cousin Sophie. You've met Hima; Mom calls her my work wife."

"I could see that," Calum teased, "until she opens her own place."

"That's why I gave them a stake in the business. My mom suggested it. Hopefully, they'll want to stick around, maybe take over someday, who knows?" Ashton shrugged.

"Mom knows best right?" Calum smiled, pulling out his wallet. He pulled out an old picture of a woman who could be his twin with a chubby-cheeked toddler on her lap. "This is my mom, Joy. She lives on the east coast now, and every morning my alarm goes off at 5 AM so I can text her good morning as she's having her morning coffee."

"That's so sweet. You must be her favorite child," Ashton had the warm fuzzies watching Calum talk about his mom. The way his entire face lit up when he smiled melted him into a puddle.

"My sister would agree with you, except she has Vanessa now, so she cares fuck all what I do," Calum said unlocking his phone. As soon as he did multiple messages popped up from his editor/best friend/total pain in his ass asking how his date was going.

"Go away Sham," he mumbled, and Ashton looked at him and then his phone

Calum quickly hid the messages. "My editor, Sham. She's my work wife and constantly in my business."

"Didn't Hima tell me she sets you up on dates? Like the pocket-sized lawyer from the club?" Ashton asked, suddenly jealous.

"Hima talks too much," Calum grumbled, and Ashton lost it which set Calum off again.

It took several minutes to regain control until Calum had tears on his face, and Ashton was about to piss himself. He excused himself, and when he returned, Cal showed him a picture of the same woman from the first photo only older in this photo, her dark hair streaked through with silver. Standing next to her was a young girl who was obviously Calum's daughter. They were both dressed in Polynesian-style floral dresses. She had the same dark flashing eyes, broad nose, and strong jawline as her father, but her face had a more heart-shaped appearance.

Calum swiped to the next picture. "My sister, Mali, she's older and my best friend in the world." He pointed to the woman standing next to Vanessa, wearing a similar dress and tying a scarf around the little girl’s cloud of curly hair., The scarf was open a bit at the top, allowing her hair to work free of the silk forming a halo of curls for added effect. Whereas Mali had a bit of a sunburn causing her shoulders and cheeks to look pink against her warm golden tan, the sun had only added an extra glow to Vanessa's deep copper skin tone which was only highlighted by the vibrant blue and yellow pattern of her dress.

"Your family is gorgeous. You definitely take after your mother. Your daughter is a real cutie, were you guys in Hawaii?" Ashton asked, curious about the outfits.

Calum shook his head. "New Zealand, actually. Mom's whole family is from there. We went for a family reunion of sorts and so Vanessa could get to know her Maori heritage. She had a blast. We all did. Nicole came with us, and so did her husband. Well, he was her boyfriend then."

"Sounds like y'all have a good relationship," Ashton could tell Calum put his family above everything just as much as he did.

He swiped to the next picture and Ashton's jaw dropped.

"Wow, that's your daughter's mother?" He looked up at Calum and he nodded. "She's beautiful and that bone structure, my God. The camera loves her, and you can tell she knows her angles too. Damn, you're gorgeous, but you leveled up there," Ashton didn't realize what he'd said until it was too late. He looked back at the picture to avoid looking at Calum. When you put Vanessa next to her mom you could see a strong resemblance there as well.

Calum's ears burned with the compliment, and he was at a complete loss for words when the timer went off again, saving them both from the awkward silence. Ashton pulled the pastry out of the oven, flooding the room with a heavenly aroma that had Calum practically drooling. He grinned when he caught sight of the mushroom design Ashton had crafted out of paprika, coriander and sea salt. The mac and cheese was next, producing an insane cheese stretch from the pan to the plate as Ashton served it up. He finished the plate with a pile of oven-roasted celery and leeks topped with a squeeze of fresh lemon juice and cracked black pepper.

Ashton sat at the edge of the bar, at an angle from Calum so they could easily converse while keeping him steps away from the kitchen. At first, they were quiet, the food demanding their full attention, although Ashton had already decided watching Calum's expressions was his new favorite thing. The obscene amount of pleasure he took from his food had Ashton so distracted that he poked himself in the face with his fork.

Calum was in heaven. He didn't know what cheese blend Ashton concocted, but he'd never had anything like this pasta dish in his life. The vegetables were still firm to the bite, and the fresh citrus was a nice contrast to the creamy, heavy cheese sauce. However, the mushroom Wellington was the real stand out, and Calum had never had anything like it. He opened his eyes and caught Ashton staring again. When he looked away quickly and his ears turned red, Calum was hopelessly smitten. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had cooked for him, and never, ever anything like this. He can cook, and he's handsome as hell, with a big dick and his own money?? He's definitely getting his dick sucked tonight. Calum almost burst out laughing hearing Sham's voice in his head. This time it was Ashton's turn to catch Calum staring, but Cal didn't look away. Instead, he gave the chef a wink and a smile before taking another bite.

When dinner was finished, Ashton shooed Calum out onto the balcony so he could pick up a bit. He offered Calum an after-dinner smoke from his case of pre-rolled Raw cones. Ashton used to smoke weed all day long when he was a teenager before quitting cold turkey. The past couple of months, Rafi got him into a couple of decent blends to help him relax in the evening that didn't get him too wasted.

He made sure Calum was out of sight before quickly brushing his teeth in the kitchen sink. Ashton wanted to be prepared in case he got the chance to make a move. He'd even made a peppermint sorbet for dessert to cleanse the palate. He scooped out two small cups and topped them with freshly grated dark chocolate before heading out onto the balcony.

Calum was sitting with his back towards the door, a small cloud of smoke wafting above his head. Ashton opened the door, and the cloud dissipated in the rush of cold air that followed him outside. Calum glanced back over his shoulder and offered the joint to Ashton as he took the icy treat from him. Ashton inhaled deeply one time before gently stubbing it out in the ashtray as he sat across from Calum. Overcome by nerves Ashton began to point out the various herbs and flowers in his little balcony garden. He could tell he was talking too fast, and his palms were sweaty but watching Calum eat ice cream might was obscene,

The peppermint was stronger than Calum expected but left a lingering cool sweetness accentuated by the bittersweet chocolate. He scraped the cup, and ran his finger along the edge before licking it clean. He shivered, and he wasn't sure if it was the chill from the sorbet or nerves as he tried to plan how to ask Ashton out on a date, a real one.

Ashton abruptly stood up and walked to the far end of the balcony looking out at the city. Calum, sensing something was off, hesitated until he saw Ashton kept glancing at him and then looking away. He pushed himself up out of the chair and made his way over to Ashton and stood next to him looking out into the distance.

"You ok? I can go if you want me to. I don't want you to be uncomfortable," Calum didn't know why he said it, but he suddenly panicked.

Ashton looked up, stunned. "No, no, I'm fine. I'm just," he rubbed the back of his neck and looked up at the sky. "I-uh I got nervous."

"Oh?" Calum asked, his pulse picking up.

"Yeah, I don't know how to do this anymore," Ashton mumbled looking at his shoes. "Kissing you is all I've thought about since the moment we met. And wow I said that out loud. Ok so maybe.." Ashton's sentence ended in a squeak as Calum's fingers brushed along his jaw and tipped his chin upwards to find Calum's face inches from his. He leaned forward as Calum's lips found his. The kiss was soft and slow, Calum's hands cupping his face as they melted into each other. Ashton's hands slid up Calum's chest before snaking around his neck and pulling him closer.

Ashton felt as if he were suspended in mid-air, floating and flying as the heat grew in his chest. He had butterflies in his stomach as he pressed himself closer. He felt Calum's strong arms wrap around him, giving him a cheeky squeeze on his ass. They both giggled and pulled away for a moment to breathe. This time Ashton went in first, he'd been dreaming about this moment, and it was better than he'd imagined. He was relieved Calum wasn't trying to rush. Still, he couldn't resist pulling back to nibble on Calum's jaw before scraping his teeth along the hollow of his throat. The whine that escaped Calum's lips, as a result, was almost enough to make him cum in his pants.

"Let's go inside," Ashton took his hand, and Calum followed him into the living room. Calum sat on the couch and tugged Ashton's belt loop to get him to sit down. Ash started to sit next to him, but Calum shook his head and grabbed his thigh, guiding him down so Ashton was straddling him.

Ashton's head was swimming as Calum's gently bit his earlobe and ran his tongue along the curve of his jaw. He moaned and Calum growled in response, grinding his hips into Ashton's where his bulge strained against the fabric of his tight trousers. He reached up and began to unbutton Ashton's shirt, his fingers brushing against the cool steel of the chain he wore around his neck then dropped down, leaving a trail of fire in the wake of each touch. Ashton's breath caught in his throat as Calum began to ease his shirt off of his shoulders while peppering his skin with kisses.

"I should've shaved," he mumbled.

"No," Calum assured him. "I like the chest hair," he whispered before scraping his teeth across his skin.

Ashton moaned, his head rolling back as he concentrated on Calum's mouth and hands, his own fingers grasping the other man's messy black curls. He pushed Calum back against the couch, finding his mouth again and sucking on his bottom lip, electricity coursing between them. Music started playing out of nowhere and he was puzzled when Calum stopped kissing him and wrapped one arm around his waist to hold him in place while he fished his phone out of his pocket.

Ashton frowned at the interruption and shifted his weight, sliding off his lap as Calum looked at him apologetically. "I'm really sorry, but it's Nicole. I think something's wrong."

Ashton's annoyance was immediately replaced by concern. Calum reached over and squeezed his hand, giving him a smile as he answered the call. It was brief, and Ashton heard every word. Nicole wouldn't give details over the phone but Vanessa's school had called and there was to be a teacher-parent meeting the very next day.

"I need you here. You need to be a part of this," she told him.

"I'm on my way," Calum replied without hesitation. He hung up, and Ashton could tell he was pissed and very worried.

"I hope everything is ok," he stood up and headed for the kitchen.

"She's been having a problem with a girl at school. We thought putting her in private school would make her life easier, but these rich kids are nasty little shits. Where did you go?" Calum stood up and straightened his clothes. When he looked up, he was confused by Ashton's sudden disappearance.

"I wanted to send you home with a doggy bag," Ashton replied, coming out of the kitchen with a paper bag in his hand.

"I thought we ate most of it." Now Calum was really perplexed.

He walked Calum to the door. "We did, but these are smaller versions I made for you to take home and cook yourself. I wrote instructions on a card that's in the bag, and there's a piece of flourless chocolate cake I made for dessert." He had to stop for a second and look away, suddenly shy at the way Calum was smiling at him. He took a breath and kept going. "I hate that you have to go, but it's sweet how much you care about your family. I had a really good time tonight, not just because of," he waved towards the couch, "you know, that. I can't remember the last time I laughed so hard. So maybe, I mean if you want to hang out sometime..."

Calum reached out and brushed his thumb across Ashton's bottom lip. "You're so damn cute when you're nervous." Calum leaned down and gave him a soft kiss goodbye. "I want to take you on a date, a real one. I have to go, but I'll text you. Goodnight." Another kiss and he was gone.

********

They were slow for lunch inside the restaurant. Daniel and Gloria were handling takeout, so Rafi and Hima were doing some extra prep for the weekend. She was helping make challah bread for brunch on Sunday when she spotted her boss gliding into work. She burst into laughter at Ashton's goofy grin despite the dark circles and bags under his eyes. Rafi saw him too and whistled and hooted until Ash flipped them both off and disappeared into his office.

Twenty minutes later, Hima set a plate of cookies down on his desk.

"We want you to try these. We're working on expanding catering to boxed lunches," she told him, sitting across from him.

"We've been open less than a month," he told her, trying not to spit cookie crumbs everywhere.

"We're already doing decent business on takeout, so we're just floating ideas for new revenue streams as word of mouth gets going. The reviews have been glowing, and I've been monitoring social media. We've been getting good exposure so far. I've had some offers to trade a free meal for exposure, but nobody has been worth our time."

Ashton nodded, as he'd learned long ago to trust her instincts. The cookies were perfect, absolutely delicious, but he knew that's not why she was in his office.

"How's my new stepfather? I've never seen you look so joyful, it's almost disturbing." Hima teased, but she was thrilled for him. Ashton deserved to be happy, and if she couldn't snuggle up to Calum “tall, dark, and handsome” Hood, having him as an in-law would work. Ashton took another big bite, chewing intently as if deep in thought. However, the blush creeping up his neck, not to mention the little hickey she spotted under his ear.

“So I take it the dinner went well. How was breakfast?" She asked, batting her eyes innocently.

"You're incorrigible, I swear," he laughed and leaned back in his chair. "He didn't stay the night. We kissed, but he got a phone call and had to leave."

"That fucking sucks," Hima pouted.

"Tell me about it. It was just getting good when the phone rang," Ashton felt himself getting hard thinking about it.

"Oh God, your face right now. You're so lost. Were you in the kitchen? All Hallmark-movies-of-the-week style?"

"No, I was straddling him on my couch if you may know," he told her just as she took a drink of water.

She tried not to choke and succeeded in dribbling water down her chin as she sputtered. "The mental image I just got. I hate you, you know that right?" She wiped her face with a towel she pulled from her apron and then threw it at Ashton.

"He's really a great guy," Ashton giggled. "Have you watched him eat though?"

"I know right, the faces," Hima almost yelled, catching herself and taking it down a notch. "I've never seen anything like it. Makes you wonder eh?" She wiggled her eyebrows at him. "Seriously though, I'm really happy it worked out. You guys are gonna make such a cute couple. Now we have to find someone for me."

"Why? Is Dakota not working out?" It was Ashton's turn to look innocent as he watched the comment land.

Hima blinked rapidly before looking him straight in the eye. "I was not expecting that. How did you know?" She asked, but the answer came to her at the same time. "The cameras are on your phone. Am I fired?"

"Are you kidding? No, I'm just teasing, but yeah that caught me by surprise the other night," Ashton felt awful when she burst into tears. "You're not in trouble. Hima, look at me, we're friends. I'm not mad. I'm not going to tell your family." He came around the desk and pulled her out of her chair and into a hug.

Hima started to laugh, and he could feel her shaking in his arms. "Oh shit, sorry," she wiped away tears, as she eased away from him.. "I don't know why I reacted like that. I felt like my dad caught me lying and there was this rush of blind panic."

"I'm sorry, I was just fucking with you," Ashton didn't know what to say.

"I shouldn’t have done it, but I’m wanting to try things. But if I’m feeling guilty I can’t enjoy it. Can I tell you?" Ashton nodded and she continued. "I met him on FetLife, more on that in a second. He's got a girlfriend, but he wanted to try something new. Maisie won't let me use her place to meet up when her roommate is there. I had fun, but I didn't feel good about it after so it's a one and done. Anyway, I'm pretty sure Calum is on FetLife. He has a pain kink, nipple clamps, and light bondage from what I saw on his profile. I checked this morning and his profile was deleted. I'll send you the screenshot I took the first time. I don't know his tattoos, but you might."

There was a loud knock at the door, and they both jumped. Rafi opened the door before Ashton could answer, and Hima was taken aback by how angry he looked.

"You're not gonna believe this boss," Rafi said, a flush creeping up his neck. "Luke's here, he wants to see you."

Ashton jumped up followed by Hima hot on his heels. Gloria stopped them in the kitchen, blocking Ashton's path as they began to go back and forth arguing in Spanish with Rafi and Daniel cutting into the conversation.

Hima was the only person in the room who hadn't come over from Lune Rouge and wasn't included in the conversation. She took advantage of the distraction to slip past them and out through the prep area to the bar. She was looking towards the hostess podium, not expecting him to be sitting two feet from her looking straight at her as she came through the swinging doors. She'd seen enough pictures to recognize him right away, but he was even better looking in person. His blue eyes were sad, and for a second she thought he’d been crying. He turned on the charm instantly, giving her his best smile and extending his hand.

"I recognize you," he told her. "You're Hima, Ash's girl wonder. I've heard so many good things about you. I went to Johnson and Wales for a bit myself. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Hima instantly saw how Ashton had been so thoroughly bewitched by this man, and it amazed her that Luke had the balls to walk into their restaurant. She opened her mouth to tell him so when Ashton came out of the kitchen on the other side of the bar. Rafi came out and stood next to her behind the bar until Ashton glared at them and they ducked back inside.

"What do you want?" Ashton asked, folding his arms across his chest.

"Listen, I didn't know how else to reach you," Like started.

"There's a reason for that. What do you want?" Ashton repeated the question.

"Can we sit down and talk, somewhere private? It's been so long" Luke whined, the sound grating on Ashton's nerves.

"Nope, I'm busy and I don't want you here. Please leave, don't contact me again," Ashton turned to go.

"Wait its Mom," Luke played his ace card. "She had surgery. I'm worried about her."

Ashton turned back around slowly, looking at Luke, who couldn't quite hide the triumphant smirk knowing he still had leverage over his ex. Ashton’s anger felt hollow now, not the gut-wrenching agonizing pain that once was there every day since he caught Luke cheating. It was gone, all of it. The realization was liberating. Knowing the seething hatred didn't follow him like a storm cloud, and the spell of attraction was irrefutably broken. Ashton knew right then that he didn't love Luke anymore, and he couldn't ever get it back even if he wanted to.

"Luke, your mom had her thyroid removed last Thursday. She's fine, we're having lunch next week. Get the fuck out of my restaurant," Ashton hissed.

Luke looked like he was going to start something, but Ashton stared him down, watching as he left the restaurant, got in his car, and drove away. He then pushed back through the kitchen doors, past everyone without a word, locked himself in his office, sat in his chair, and wept for almost an hour. The adrenaline rush of seeing Luke, the relief of knowing it was done, needed a release. When he was finished, he cleaned up a bit and finished the cookies Hima had left on his desk. There were a couple of text messages on his phone. The first was from Hima

You ok boss?

Never been better, I'll be out in a bit

Under that was Calum

Can't wait to see you again but I have to go out of town tomorrow. There's an event at the observatory for the meteor shower so I'll be up in the mountains. Let me pick you up Monday afternoon if you don't have to work

He did have to work, but Hima was off and she'd switch with him for this.

Sounds good, let me know what time

I can't wait 😉 I wanna pick up where we left off before we were interrupted. I'm almost at school. I have to go to the principal's office, some things never change. Looking forward to Monday

Ashton read the message, not knowing how he was going to stand the anticipation. He got up to find Hima. e could not work Monday. This was too important.

*********

Calum pulled into the parking spot, looking up at Ashton's building. He sent a text letting him know he was outside. As he waited, Calum glanced into the backseat at the picnic basket full of goodies Hima had helped him select. He'd sent her an email on his way out of town headed to where he would have little to no cell service. There was a little park that, if you knew how to wind through a subdivision full of dead-end and one-way streets, was about twenty minutes away from Calum's house. There was a duck pond next to a jacaranda tree that he'd always thought would be perfect for a date. He glanced up at the cloudy sky praying the weather held throughout the day.

Calum wiped his palms on his jeans and took a deep breath. He'd been looking forward to this all weekend, even sitting in the observatory atop Mt Hamilton watching shooting stars streak across the sky. He'd been impatient to get back to Ashton. Bewitched, bothered, and bewildered. The lyrics to a song he hadn't heard in over a decade bubbled up into his brain, taking him back to his grandmother in Scotland cleaning her kitchen and singing along to the FM radio above her sink.

I'm wild again, beguiled again. Gran always told his sister to "find a brawny lad who can make you laugh and works hard." Calum grinned, watching Ashton emerge from his building wearing a green, long-sleeved Henley shirt and black skinny jeans that clung to his physique. Brawny lad indeed.

Calum turned the music down when Ashton opened the car door and climbed in. He was completely caught off guard when the other man handed him a small bundle from behind his back. Calum looked at the small bunch of plants tied together with kitchen twine and a small ribbon.

"You brought me flowers?" He asked, feeling his face get warm. "That's so thoughtful." Calum's throat was tight, and he knew he was blushing crimson. He smiled at Ashton, trying not to get too emotional. He focused on the bouquet which allowed him to take a second to regain his composure. As he did, he realized this was unlike any bouquet he'd seen before. "Are these from your garden?"

"Yeah," Ashton giggled, giddy and nervous. He shifted in his seat. He pointed to the small purple flowers on one. "These are chive blossoms, sage, and thyme." His fingers brushed the delicate white bell shaped blossoms. "Sweet marjoram, and this is borage, both great additions to a salad or stew. I added some daisies and rosemary for color and fragrance. I'm glad you like them." Calum looked up and Ashton looked away, shy again.

"If you're trying to impress me, it's working. I love them, thank you," he said brushing his fingers along the back of Ashton's hand. He reached behind his seat and grabbed a handful of napkins and a cup out of the picnic supplies. He carefully wrapped up the little bundle and placed it in the cup. "We should get going before the weather turns on us."

"Where are we going?" Ashton asked, buckling his seatbelt.

"It's a surprise," Calum winked at him.

"How was the meteor shower?" Ashton asked.

"Out of this world," Calum shot back and they both erupted into laughter.

Ashton leaned back in his seat, watching Calum's face as he concentrated on getting through a construction zone. His eyes landed on a small faint bruise on Calum's neck. He felt his cock twitch in his pants at the memory of leaving the mark, knowing he had every intention of leaving more later tonight.

Calum glanced over, and this time Ashton didn't look away, instead giving him a wink and a sly smile before Calum had to tear his eyes away to focus on the road. He gasped when Ashton reached over and put a hand on his knee. Ashton jerked his hand back at the sound, but Calum caught it. He gave him a squeeze then placed Ashton's hand on his leg again, slightly higher than before.

"Almost there, this place is a maze, but it's a nice quiet park," Calum made a series of turns and Ashton spotted the park up ahead. They passed the first parking lot near a playground where several kids were running around before making another turn and parking in a smaller lot.

Calum got out and walked to the back of the Rover. Ashton came around right as he was opening the hatch.

"What can I carry?" Ashton asked.

Calum frowned and pulled his phone out of his pocket. He had his phone set to only allow for two numbers to ring through.

Ashton's heart sank watching Calum's expression. Please not another family emergency. He felt guilty, but he wanted Calum all to himself today.

"It's my mom, she's probably calling to chat but I have to answer. Give me just a second, I'm so sorry," Calum apologized.

Ashton nodded and smiled, hoping it was nothing serious. "I'm a Mama's boy too," he reminded him. "I'll look around a bit."

Ashton wandered off towards a lovely pond where he spotted a family of ducks swimming together. There was a tree overlooking the pond giving off shade and a little privacy. He heard Calum laugh and say his goodbyes to his mom, and he was relieved to see everything was fine. The ducks quacked out a warning before turning and swimming in the other direction. He started to turn back to go help Calum unload the car when the first raindrop hit his nose. Ashton looked up as it started to sprinkle. As he headed back towards the parking lot the drizzle increased to a soft steady rain. Then a streak of lightning split the sky with a deafening crack causing Ashton to almost jump out of his skin at the incredible noise. Unfortunately, this caused him to lose his footing and slip on the wet grass. He crashed hard into the ground and fell again when he tried to get up. Calum hurried over and reached Ashton just as he struggled to his feet, his left side streaked with mud and grass clippings sticking to his skin and hair.

"Are you ok?" Calum reached out to steady him.

"Yeah let's get out of here," Ashton snapped. "Sorry, I'm not mad at you."

"It's fine, really," Calum opened his door for him before going to his side and getting in. "We'll go to my house, I live ten minutes from here."

Ashton hesitated, not wanting to dirty up Calum's car, getting soaked standing there.

"It's fine," Calum reassured him.

Ashton thought for a second and then pulled his shirt, which got the worst of the mud, off over his head, wrung it out as best he could, tossed it on the rubber floor mat, and got in.

Calum turned the car on and flipped the heat on low so Ashton wouldn't get chilled. He wanted to say something, make small talk, anything as they drove in silence.

"I'm sorry about that," he began.

"Why? Rain is rain, it's not your fault. I might need to borrow your shower though. The grass is starting to itch," Ashton reached over and put his hand on Calum's knee again. Calum pulled it a little higher, and Ashton responded by sliding his hand all the way up Calum's thigh as far as he could go without actually touching his dick. Calum didn't say a word but Ashton smiled as he heard the sharp intake of breath and felt the car accelerate in response.

They pulled up to a small bungalow at the end of a winding road as the rain started to pick up. Calum grabbed the basket and handed Ashton a bag and they both made a dash for the front door. They were greeted by Brutus barking and bouncing on his back legs at the sight of Ashton. Calum was stunned when the little dog launched himself at the newcomer’s ankles, immediately flipping over for a belly rub.

"Somebody's friendly," Ashton cooed, leaning down to pet him.

"Not usually," Calum told him. "I'll get set up in here. Follow me, I'll show you where the shower is." He walked down the hall, Ashton and Brutus trailing behind him. He stopped at a closet and grabbed a couple of towels before opening another door. "This is the bathroom. I've got a couple different kinds of body wash, use whatever you need and I'll find you something dry to change into. You want a t-shirt or button up? Pants or shorts?" Calum asked trying not to gawk at Ashton's bare chest.

Ashton shrugged. "Something that's comfortable and easy to take off sounds good. It won't take long. It's not safe but I've gotta rinse off." The lights flickered and they both looked up.

"You'd better hurry. I'll leave the clothes outside the door," Calum told him before leaning in for a quick kiss.

Ashton frowned when he pulled back but Calum winked and disappeared into his bedroom across the hall. Ashton was tempted to follow but he needed to stop itching first.

*******

Ashton was halfway down the hall when the lights went out. He'd changed into the pajama pants and t-shirt Calum left hanging on the doorknob. He followed a soft glow until he found himself in the living room. Calum had set up some food in a spread on the coffee table, but he was nowhere to be seen. Ashton sat down on the couch and began to nibble on some strawberries when he heard a door slam and Calum came out wearing similar drawstring pants and a black shirt fully unbuttoned so the candlelight reflected off his bare chest making him look like a golden god.

"Oh hey, that was quick. I didn't know how hungry you were so I put the cold stuff in the fridge. I thought you might want to have a drink first. I have wine."

"Sounds good, we can eat later. I'm not really thinking about food right now," Ashton replied, food the furthest thing from his mind.

Calum sat down next to him, handing him a glass of red wine. Ashton took a sip and recognized it as a German ice wine he loved that was not easy to come by.

"How did you know? How did you find it so quickly?" Ashton looked up in disbelief.

"My wife called your wife about the feature and next thing I know I've got a box on my doorstep with this wine and some salami I've never heard of. There was also a caramel brownie cake that looks like it's gonna go straight to my hips. I did my own research for the rest of it. I know this date isn't going exactly how I wanted it to, but I wanted to make things special. At least the food will be good," Calum sighed.

"You didn't have to do all that," Ashton told him.

"Yeah I did," Calum responded. "You really went all out the other day. Everyone I’ve talked to while writing this feature has gone on and on about how kind and generous you are. You’re always put so much effort into other people and you deserve to have someone make that kind of effort for you. You're so warm and caring, and funny too. Anyone who doesn't see how special you are is an idiot," Calum stopped talking, afraid he'd said too much. He took a big gulp of wine only looking up when Ashton reached over to take the glass from his hand. He set both their glasses on the table and turned back to Calum.

Without a word, Calum reached for him pulling him onto his lap, Ashton's knees on either side of his hips. Ashton slid Calum's shirt off his shoulders as their lips met with a heated urgency. Calum nipped Ashton's bottom lip before their tongues tangled. Ashton pulled back and grazed his teeth and tongue down Calum's throat. His long fingers traced around Cal's dark nipples before giving them a sharp tug. Calum grunted and bucked underneath him in response making Ashton try it again. Leaving slow sucking kisses down his neck pinching the stiff rosy buds after each one as Calum began to grind his erection up against Ashton. Breathy cries escaped his lips as he got more aroused, more desperate.

Calum was tugging at the drawstring on Ashton's pants and slipping past the waistband. His hand closed around Ashton's length and he moaned in anticipation. It was bigger than he expected and thicker than anything Calum had imagined outside of porn and his wildest dreams.

"Let me suck you off," Calum begged as Ashton continued to mark up his neck.

Ashton shook his head, his soft curls brushing against Calum's jaw.

"Can't let that happen, sweetheart," Ashton answered, barely lifting his lips from the patchwork of red welts and slight purple bruises. "I'll cum too fast if I let you put those pretty lips around my cock. I've thought about it so many times."

Calum shivered as much from the heat of the other man's breath on his skin as the words he'd said.

"Mmmm I like that," Calum hissed. He arched his back as Ashton's head dipped lower, sucking a trail down his chest and latching onto his nipple. "I've wanted this, need you, Ash."

Ashton pushed hard against Calum's chest and stood up. Calum whined at the sudden lack of contact, his kiss swollen lips pursing into a pout.

"What's wrong?" He asked, looking up at Ashton who was peeling off his shirt revealing his lean physique, chest heaving with a sheen of sweat, tattooed flames peeking out underneath his ribs. Calum started to get up but Ashton stopped him.

"Nothing's wrong, everything is perfect," Ashton told him, bending down for a quick kiss. "I wanted to take my time but hearing you moan my name like that is too much. Slide your pants down, let me taste you." Ashton carefully moved the table back far enough they wouldn't bump anything as things got crazy.

"Oh God," Calum gasped as Ashton kneeled between his thighs, tugging impatiently as he raised his hips and kicked his shorts off.

Ashton licked around the tip of Calum's cock feeling it twitch seeking his mouth. Calum reached for him but Ashton pinned his hands beside him on the couch. "Not yet," Ashton teased, fluttering the tip of his tongue along the ridge.

"Oh fuck Ashton, please," Calum's eyes rolled back and his jaw dropped open as Ashton took him all the way down his throat. He had to concentrate to keep himself from exploding right then. Calum tried to squirm away but there was nowhere to go. Ashton let up instantly.

"Are you ok? Do you want me to stop?" Ashton's hazel eyes were searching Calum's face.

Calum grabbed Ashton's hand and placed it in his inner thigh. "I don't want you to ever stop. I'm just trying not to bust too soon."

Ashton grinned and leaned forward. His mouth hovered just above Calum's shaft, close enough he could reach out with the tip of his tongue, if he wanted to.

"Don't want that to happen do we?" Ashton smirked, grasping the base of Calum's shaft applying pressure just above the balls and pulling it back away from Calum's stomach.

"Keep doing that," Calum moaned, waiting until the pressure turned to slight pain. "Let go, let go," he cried and Ashton released his grip letting his dick spring back, slapping against his stomach. "Fuck babe, do that again," Calum whined, pulling his nipples his dark eyes intensely focused on Ashton.

Ashton flushed under Calum's stare feeling the knot in his stomach twist with desire as Calum moaned with each stroke, each release. They were both sweating now, the dim light giving Calum's broad chest as Ashton pushed up and met Calum's lips for a kiss.

Ashton stood up looking down at Calum seated on the couch. Reaching down he cupped his hand around the massive bulge straining against his pants before pushing his hips towards Calum's face. His dark bushy eyebrows raised in a smirk Calum began to tease Ashton with nips and sucking kisses. Ashton hissed at the feeling of teeth grazing his shaft through the flannel. Calum groaned against him as Ashton impatiently slithered the waistband down past his hips. Calum's mouth was on him in a flash, lips parted and taking him down past the back of his throat resisting the urge to gag around his length. Ashton cried out as his hands tangled in Calum's soft curls leaning his weight against Calum to keep his knees from shaking.

Calum looked up at the man hovering over him, their eyes met and the need intensified. Ashton bent down for a kiss as Calum's hands reached up pulling his hips down once more. In between the flurry of passionate kisses and hands roaming and grasping desperately to feel as much of the other’s skin against their own Calum could barely gasp out the words.

"How do you want me?"

Ashton's head spun at the sound of the words. He'd imagined this so many times, gotten himself off so many times thinking about this moment. Now that it was here he didn't hesitate to answer.

"I wanna ride you until you cum for me," Ashton told him.

Calum looked shocked and Ashton started to explain, "normally I'm a top but with you I thought-"

He couldn't finish the sentence before Calum stopped him with a kiss. "Don't have to explain. I wanna try everything you wanna try. Let me grab something really quickly," Calum helped Ashton shift so he could get up. He grabbed a towel and pulled open the drawer on the coffee table where he'd stashed lube and condoms just in case. Ashton chuckled but his breath caught in his throat as Calum turned back towards him. Fully nude, the candlelight cast a golden glow across Calum's chest and thighs as he walked back towards the couch, sliding the condom on with a stroke and Ashton couldn't remember anything sexier. They settled back on the couch with Ashton straddling Calum his knees on either side of his hips. Calum moved his hand down as Ashton raised his hips as Cal's fingers moved past Ashton's balls to tease his tight hole.

Ashton sighed and relaxed back against Calum feeling himself being spread open as he worked another couple of fingers in. When Ashton had gotten used to the stretch he began to rock his hips impatiently and wanting more. Calum chuckled against Ashton's chest as Ashton took the lube from him and made sure Calum's cock was nice and slick before easing the head of it into his eager entrance. Calum held his breath, clenching his stomach and thighs to hold still while Ashton carefully worked Calum's length inside him. The pain gave way to a throbbing ache as Ashton began to rock his hips. Calum was thick, so he felt the most delicious stretch. Calum's hands roamed everywhere. He ran his nails along Ashton's thighs, stroking over the phoenix tattoo on his ribcage, and grazed through Ashton's chest hair before tugging at his necklace. Ashton's hips moved faster as he leaned back to balance his hands on Calum's thighs. Calum wrapped his hand around Ashton's cock matching thrust in time. There were no words needed as they moved together moans and groans punctuated with the occasional soft little sigh because it just felt so good.

Calum's hips bucked and he knew he couldn't hold back much longer. Not with the way Ashton was bouncing on him now, his thighs pumping as he sought his own climax. Ashton leaned forward whimpering into Calum's neck, nuzzling and nibbling. His tempo increased, his nails dug into Calum's scalp and his long fingers pulled his curls. Calum kept one hand on Ashton's shaft while the other clutched Ashton's hip spurring him on.

A growl ripped from Ashton's chest as his orgasm exploded from his core shooting electricity through every nerve ending in his body. Calum felt him erupt between their bodies spilling through his fingers and onto his chest. Ashton clenched around Calum's cock sending him crashing into ecstasy as Ashton's hips stuttered and jerked, milking every drop from Calum as he thrust up into Ashton, his eyes rolling back in his head. Ashton sat up pulling Calum's head into his chest, Calum's arms wrapped around Ashton's waist as they traded breaths and their heartbeats slowed back down. Ashton eased himself off Calum causing both of them to groan a little at the lack of contact.

Calum got up and staggered into the kitchen to throw the condom away and wash his hands. He came back with a bottle of water for each of them, flipping the spout up before handing it over. Ashton sat up and guzzled the entire bottle as Calum grabbed the towel wiping himself off quickly and tossing it on the couch. Ashton excused himself to clean up and when he came back Calum had moved the table back by the couch and was munching on a cluster of grapes.

"Sorry, but I'm always hungry after sex," Calum looked sheepish and Ashton noticed he hadn't bothered to get dressed yet. Not that I'm complaining. Ashton ran his hand up Calum's thigh as he settled next to him on the couch.

"Don't apologize," Ashton gave him a wink. "You need to get your strength back for round two."

"Oh yeah?" Calum raised his eyebrows and bit into the fruit, letting the juices dribble down his chin.

"Keep looking at me like that and see what happens," Ashton smirked but he was hungry too.

Calum pulled a throw blanket and some cushions on to the floor so they could stretch out. Ashton poured more wine while Calum grabbed the food out of the fridge. Ashton's mouth watered when he saw the espresso baked brie and the spinach croquettes. Calum had done his homework and Ashton was incredibly touched by the effort.

Calum sat down with his back against the couch and Ashton propped himself up at a slight angle to him, close enough to touch, with the food places between them, their legs stretched out and tangled together. They ate in comfortable silence exchanging smiles and glances between bites. They found little ways to touch each other, unable to keep their hands off each other. Calum fed Ashton a bite of chocolate only to find the other man's lips pressed to the inside of his wrist. Ashton wiping crumbs off Calum's bottom lip before finding his thumb captured between Cal's teeth. Calum laughed and started to say something but Ashton had spaced out on him.

"What's on your mind?" Calum cringed when he realized he'd spoken out loud.

"I'm trying not to think about things too much, it's never a good idea," Ashton admitted. He was already in too deep, whether he said it out loud or not.

Calum pulled Ashton in close, folding the other man into his arms so his head was resting just above Calum's heart. Ashton closed his eyes, listened to the rhythm, and the rise and fall of Calum's chest.

"I know what you mean. This is going to sound corny but I feel like I should be nervous, I'm not though. I really like you and I'm not going to try to find something wrong. I'm too excited to see what happens next." Calum finished his thought with a string of kisses along Ashton's hairline before adding," I have to Venmo Hima $100 before I forget."

Ashton pulled back laughing, he grabbed his phone off the table. "I can't say shit, she pulled the same scam on me."

Calum laughed and leaned forward to get his phone as well. Ashton eyed Calum's bare ass noticing the slight tan line just above his hips. Calum saw his expression and wiggled his hips. "Like what you see?" Calum's tone was playful but Ashton could see his dick getting hard again.

"I will take you right here Hood," Ashton growled reaching for a condom.

Calum's phone rang, it was Hima on FaceTime.

"Answer it, I dare you," Ashton pulled Calum onto his back and placed his hands on the back of Calum's thighs.

"Hima, what's up?" As soon as Calum answered the call he felt Ashton's tongue teasing between his cheeks. He fought to keep a straight face as he told Hima about the disaster in the park despite Ashton probing and licking against his hole. Aston buried his tongue and Calum ended the call without saying goodbye and tossed his phone to the side.

Ashton made Calum beg to be fucked before he finally relented and replaced his tongue with the head of his dick. Ashton kept Calum's knees to his chest as he took his time easing his cock into Calum's ass, adding lube as he went. Calum had never been with anyone this big and he pulled his own nipples as Ashton stretched him as far as he could go. The thrill of the pain was unlike anything Calum had experienced and Ashton made him beg before he pushed further. Calum gasped as Ashton bottomed out, seeing his arms flex as he held himself in place, the light reflecting off the red blood moon tattoos and bold black star. Ashton moved his hips, barely pulling out and rocking against his ass to hit a spot deep inside him that Calum never knew existed. The surprised moan that filled the room spurred Ashton to maintain that control, giving long slow deep strokes, and hitting that spot each time.

Calum's hand closed around his dick, trying to keep from cumming before he was ready. Ashton switched positions, biceps curling around Calum's thick thighs as they moved together, chasing their climax together.

Calum arched his back, his spine contracting and releasing slamming his hips against the floor. Ashton rutted his hips, pushing deeper into Calum. His vision blurred as Calum's name fell from his lips. Calum cried out underneath him and Ashton watched Calum's release spattering his chest and stomach with white streaks. Ashton collapsed on top of him shaking uncontrollably as he came undone.

"Oh my God Ashton, that was incredible," Calum whispered when he found his voice again. They untangled from each other, both sticky and sleepy, overheated from exertion.

Calum made sure the candles were blown up and there was nothing left out that could hurt Brutus before he led Ashton into the bathroom where they fumbled around in the shadows taking turns rinsing each other off and exchanging clumsy kisses. Calum took them into his bedroom, pulling the covers down on the bed as the electric came back on. The AC started with a whoosh turning the room chilly very quickly. They scrambled under the covers quickly, fighting for the covers and giggling like little kids. There was a bit of awkward positioning before they ended up laying face to face unable to stop staring at each other, chatting for what seemed like hours, hands, and legs intertwined before they finally dozed off.

**********

When Ashton woke up he was alone in a strange bed. The smell of Calum tickled his senses and the bed was still warm. There was a light shining from the hallway. He listened and heard tiny scraping sounds coming towards him before a small dog burst into the room and launched himself on the bed. Brutus attacked Ashton with doggy kisses as Calum followed him into the room.

"Brutus, get down," Calum scolded him. "Sorry about that. He needed to go out and I was trying not to wake you."

"What time is it?" Ashton looked around for his phone.

"It's a little after midnight, I can drive you home if you need to go," Calum offered, unable to hide his sudden disappointment.

"There's nowhere else I want to be, come back to bed," Ashton yawned and stretched out.

Calum slid under the covers, cuddling into Ashton's body heat, Brutus curled up on the duvet between them. Calum rested his head against his shoulder and Ashton's fingers aimlessly snaked through Calum's soft dark curls. The rain began again as they drifted off to dream together.

@sublimehood @tea4sykes @be-ready-when-i-say-go @scribblesos @kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995 @wildmichaelflower @castaway-cashton @damselindistressanu @notinthesameguey @cashtonasfuck @irwinkitten @mermaidcashton @malumsmermaid

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