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dopescotlandwarrior · 3 years

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Sinners & Saints-Chapter 17

A special thanks to @statell for all your help

Previous chapters at AO3

Chapter 17

Sebastian Meyer spun his desk chair around in time to see his secretary drop a newspaper onto his desk. She had the paper folded back to the society section where Danny’s face was beaming as she shook hands with Boris Johnson, the Prime Minister of England. He felt like someone punched him in the stomach and lowered the receiver to its cradle without warning to the caller. “What in God’s name is she doing?” He looked up in time to appreciate the swinging ass of his secretary before the door closed behind her. Sebastian read every word associated with the story and decided his mother was having a last fling before she surrendered the reigns to him this year. Let her have some fun, he thought, a nostalgic party to remember her glory days when she was the seat of power and reigning queen of the socialites. He could give a shit because nothing could stop him now. The purchase of a sizeable chunk of stock was in the bag after his manufactured bromance with a major investor. Sebastian did his best to undermine his mother’s stronghold and convince the man she was suffering from dementia. He was sure this sale would put him close to majority shareholder, so his take over was within reach. Still, the picture gave him an unsettled feeling because she had not surfaced in almost a year. Why now? The crew had worked all night to put the boat right after the party, with orders from Darius not to report for duty until noon the following day. Jamie took advantage of the quiet morning and trained Danny and himself in the gym before swimming laps to cool off. He hated the weather in London. Hot, sticky, and draining.

Adso’s loud purring cut through the fog of Claire’s dream and she felt him head-butting her face. He stretched out beside her and kept his paws on her face until she opened her eyes. Claire rolled to her side and with a finger under his chin pulled his head up to look at her. “Ok my darling, I’m up. Is it food you want?” The door to their deck slid open for some fresh air and was closed immediately to keep humid air from filling the room. Tonight they will weigh anchor, set a course for Paris, and her intimate time with Jamie would be on hold again. She stretched and smiled at their glutenous sexual pursuits over the past week and figured she would survive the three days apart. She couldn’t wait to get to Paris and see Javier and Joseph again. They were invited to the party and would stay on board to Athens and then fly home. It felt like an eternity since they were together. Darius called a meeting of the crew and ran down the teams, shifts, and duties on their three-day trip to Paris. Maia was the last one onto the bridge and noticed Cici did not move away from Darius when she came in. She stood across from them and quietly listened to the meeting, however she remembered not a word. When the crew muttered “aye, captain,” Maia was deep in her memory, adding up the lingering looks and odd behaviors observed in Cici. “Maia? You’re a million miles away.” Maia looked around at the empty bridge and blushed. “I’m closer than you think. I gotta go.” Black Rolls Royce automobiles pulled up to the offices of the Harbor Master all day long so someone in the employ of a party guest could deliver a handwritten message thanking Danny for a lovely evening. When Darius requested permission to make way, he was told a boat was coming to deliver mail. Eighty-five guests sent a thank you note, and Danny read every one of them. The anchors were raised just as a thunderstorm ripped open to soak Ethan and Steven, who gripped the slippery hull ladder with one hand while they guided the chain with the other. Darius watched the CCTV monitors closely until they were back on deck. The other crew members were pulling furniture and lounge chairs under the deck ceiling and snapping waterproof covers over everything. When all of them were back inside, Darius and Jamie turned the yacht away from London toward open water. Danny looked out the expansive windows at the squall coming in on the port side and told Claire and Maia to close all the windows. Claire ran to her rooms and called for Adso, usually on her lap at this time of the day, getting more frantic by the second. She ran around her room calling for him and spun around to see him sitting on her bed yawning. She picked him up and carried him out to the table where they were working. Darius looked at the color of Jamie’s face and decided he finally found his friend's weakness. “You look a bit green around the edges, friend. The trash can is empty if you need …” Jamie ran for the head and over the next two hours, purged his system, in one way or another. Darius was waiting to give him a patch for seasickness, but Jamie couldn’t spend more than a couple of minutes on the bridge before dashing back to the head. On one of his brief visits, Darius pressed something sticky behind his ear. Jamie made a run for the bathroom again and Darius chuckled. After four hours of being tossed around on an angry sea, Darius could see the margin of the storm and pushed their speed to get out from under it. When Maia and Steven arrived to take their shift, Jamie almost crawled out of the elevator and got to their rooms to lie down. Claire was reading and jumped off the bed when she saw her green-faced love stagger in. She pulled his clothes off and propped him up on pillows, then went to the galley for soup and water. The chef was preparing food for the next day when she told him how sick Jamie was. He smiled and fixed up a remedy for seasickness and suggested broth to restore him. “He won’t like the taste of the remedy, so tell him to pinch his nose and swallow. Best to have a bucket nearby, just in case.” Claire carried the tray to their room and Jamie did whatever she told him to. Then he laid down and passed out. Jamie reported to the bridge the next morning feeling much better except for sore stomach muscles. He kissed Claire as they exchanged places and the familiar rotation was back in full swing. Claire worked with Danny during the day, getting her to remember the faces that would board in Paris, and Maia did research on the guests. When they dropped anchor in Paris, it felt like they had hardly moved. The night of the party, Claire and Maia flanked Danny again at the entrance to the grand saloon and fed her information about guests who were approaching. When Claire saw Javier and Joseph in the greeting line, she broke away to throw her arms around them. Javier held her at arm’s length and smiled at her gown and hair. He was bursting with pride, as was Joseph. Claire introduced them to Danny and Maia and walked them into the saloon to find Jamie. Jamie’s smile was brilliant as he shook hands with the men. Claire promised to catch up in a bit and went back to Danny greeting guests. It was a stifling evening and even with the air conditioners blowing Danny was perspiring in her jacket, so she took it off to reveal the sleeveless gown underneath. Jamie caught sight of her and beamed with pride at her smooth and shapely arms. Danny looked in his direction and smiled back. At one o’clock in the morning, Claire dropped onto the couch between Javier and Joseph and sighed. Danny smiled her gratitude at the three of them. “I owe you a big thank you for talking with the French-speaking guests. I never saw any of you sit down all night and you were all so charming!” “I left you to fly solo tonight and you knocked it out of the park Danny.” “I wasn’t alone, I had the darling Maia with me much of the night.” Claire put her hand on her heart and lipped ‘thank you’ to Maia. She noticed Ethan and Steven had changed into their day uniforms and were standing by. “It would appear we are moving the boat to our mooring so it’s time to change and be useful.” She kissed Javier and Joseph goodnight and then Danny, telling her to rest well. Danny looked up at Maia and tapped her other cheek for a goodnight kiss and they all went to their rooms. Claire clipped the radio to her shorts and heard the crew members give their location and readiness to the bridge. She pulled a t-shirt over her head and pushed her hair into a ponytail. “Claire, are you close? You’re on the aft deck to catch the stern ropes.” “Yes, had a devil of a time getting that dress off, but I’m almost there.” “Thank you for the visual now move your ass, we’re ready.” Claire rolled her eyes and jogged to the aft deck to catch the enormous ropes used to tie the yacht to the dock. When the anchor chains were quiet again, Steven popped up on the ladder and helped with the remaining ropes before descending again when they dropped anchor at the mooring. Claire was grateful for the hard-working crew who would put the boat in order before morning. She was exhausted. “Good job everybody, captain out.” Maia came to the bridge in her pajamas, eating dry cereal out of the box. Darius was writing in his log and kept looking over at her soft pants riding her hips four inches below her belly button. When she lifted the box above her mouth, he watched her breasts bounce under her pj top. “Done!” Darius picked her up as she threw the empty box into the trash on the way to their rooms. As before, Danny held a brunch the next day for Javier, Joseph, Danny, and the four friends. It was a beautiful afternoon in sunny Paris, and Darius did the unthinkable. He gave the crew the day off, postponing their departure until the next day. In New York, Sebastian took the folded paper from his secretary and his eyes bugged out at the picture of Danny in a sleeveless gown toasting a major stockholder and oil investor. “What the bloody hell is going on?” “Get Marvin on the phone, interrupt him, tell him it’s an emergency!” “Marvin! Tell me Johnson is ready to sell before I lose my mind! My mother is up to something and I don’t like it.” Sebastian listened for two minutes, heard his financial manager say Johnson had taken his shares off the table, and the phone slammed into the cradle so hard it shattered. “Goddammit!” He unplugged the phone base and threw it against the wall. The next morning, Jamie and Darius prepared to weigh anchor as the crew covered deck furniture and stowed planters in the plant garage. Ethan and Steven raised the anchors and the mighty engines came to life. Javier and Joseph sipped cold champagne on the deck and marveled at the teamwork required to get them underway. Claire, Danny, and Maia joined them to watch the historic sights and beautiful buildings glide by on their way down the Seine. Claire had mixed feelings about anchoring off Greece again because so much had happened there. Thankfully, there was no party to prepare for and they could act like tourists for the three days Darius and Maia would be onshore visiting family. She told herself to relax and enjoy the time with her godfather. The third night at sea, Danny planned a special dinner on the upper deck for Claire and her family, Jamie, Darius, and Maia. They were served by the crew, and the chef prepared a glorious meal for them to enjoy. Many stories were shared after dinner, and Claire watched Danny talk animatedly with the others. Her jawline was still defined and her neck showed no drooping skin, in fact, she was aging quite well but no one would know it because her shoulder-length hair kept her best parts hidden. She decided it was time for Danny to emerge and wished she had thought of this while still in Paris. She would talk to Danny at her first opportunity, which was later that evening when she was reading in the saloon along with Javier and Joseph. “Danny, I would love to treat you to a new hairstyle. What do you say to a girl’s day out in Athens?” “I am quite comfortable with my hair, as awful as it is. I’m not comfortable risking a bad haircut. How about facials and pedicures?” “Okay, that would be fine, I guess. I’m on shift in the wheel room in two hours, so I’m going to lie down for a bit. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Claire needed Jamie’s help for this and found him watching a rerecorded game in their room. She snuggled up to him and whispered she needed a favor. The game flicked off before her sentence was finished. “I am trying to talk Danny into a new hairstyle, something more modern, but she’s afraid of having a bad haircut until it grows out. You could draw her face and put different hairstyles on her, right?” “There is a very high price for such a service Sassenach, but I’d be happy to break it down into installments if you like.” He pulled her down on the mattress and kissed her until she forgot who Danny was. Through the night, while Claire was on shift, Jamie sat in his studio and rendered Danny’s face with three hairstyles he found on the internet. He jogged to their bed to grab four hours of sleep before his last shift of this leg. Darius was getting more uptight by the minute as they cruised toward Athens. He and Maia would visit their family for three days, so Jamie assumed this mood was family-related. “I’ve been wanting to ask you, it’s none of my business, but I’ll ask anyway. When we were at the jewelry store in Jamaica buying the necklace for Maia, you said you had two grand to your name, remember?” Darius shot him a dark look. “What did you do with your earnings then?” “You couldn’t be more right, it’s none of your business.” “I think I know the answer, but I’d like to hear it from you.” “Me and Maia have all we need while on the yacht, so I send the bulk of my pay home, to my family and hers. The economy is poor, very few good jobs, low pay, no assistance. My two brothers live in the same house as my sister, her husband, and their baby. They need every penny.” “I always knew you were a good man, Darius. What are you forty, forty-five years old?” “I’m twenty-seven asshole, and I don’t need a lecture about robbing Maia from the cradle. ” Jamie ducked as wadded paper was launched at his head and the bantering took the edge off of Darius’s mood. The anchors hit the seabed close to Athens, where the fishing was good for both pole and speargun. Darius and Maia said goodbye and got into a boat brought by Darius’s brother and it sped away. Javier and Joseph were gleefully setting up their fishing lines and sipping beer in chilled glasses. They now had a partner in crime. The chef was crazy about fishing and kept the men within arms reach of food and beer while they enjoyed the day. Jamie felt soft arms come around his waist from behind and twisted his body to put Claire under the shower water. He kissed her under the stream and felt a ravenous hunger ignite in his groin. They could take their time today, he realized, and broke his kiss to wash her hair. “It’s time for a whisky, love. Be a good girl and stay here, I have some things to discuss with you.” When Jamie left to fetch the whisky bottle, Claire went out to the deck with her nail kit and put a fresh coat of polish on her fingernails. Jamie set a whisky in front of her and watched the process with mild interest. He stood behind her and pulled the string holding her bikini top on, letting it fall to the deck, then he carried her to a lounge. Claire kept her hands in the air so he wouldn’t smudge the polish, and Jamie smiled wickedly at her. “Let me pamper you, love. Give me your foot.” He found all kinds of creams and scrubs in her caddy and settled on a soothing gel that he applied to her feet, calves, and thighs, covering an inch at a time very slowly. He massaged her inner thighs until she was panting, taking care not to touch her most intimate places. This was about seduction, and that required a soft touch. Pulling her foot into his lap, he sat down on the deck and held up bottles of polish until she picked one. The hours he had watched her manicure her toes paid off when he brought out each tool for cuticles, filing, and smoothing. When the paint rolled onto her toenails, he could see her thighs quivering slightly and smiled with his bowed head. When the first foot was done, he licked from her knee to her core, pulling her bikini bottom to the side and pulling his soft, wet tongue up her fold. The fabric was returned to normal and he grabbed the other foot for the same treatment while she panted and tried to slow her heart rate. It took an excruciatingly long time to paint five toenails and drink two shots of whisky. Claire was growling with need and gave her love a warning look to finish what he started. It took another hour but finish he did and they curled up on the lounge for a happy siesta. By mid-afternoon, Claire found Javier, Joseph, and the chef, drunk, sunburned, and deliriously happy. To her surprise, Danny had joined them and was holding two of their poles with lines in the water. She greeted Claire with a happy smile, so excited to be fishing. “Claire! Look, I am fishing for my supper, isn’t that fantastic? I haven’t caught a single fish yet, but I am determined.” Javier looked at Joseph and asked if he baited the hooks to which Joseph raised his shoulders and giggled. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. Give me a pole Danny so I can check your hook.” Soon there was a spinning lure attached to the line and cast far into the water. Claire handed the pole back to Danny with a warning that the fish were large and might pull the pole out of her hands if she wasn’t ready. Danny squealed with delight and watched the water with anticipation. Claire baited the other hook and sat next to Danny, trying to ignore the loud snoring of the three men who were now sleeping in the shade. Claire’s pole jerked violently, and she heard the line running out as the fish dove deep to get away from the hook. She counted five seconds and pushed the lock on the reel, almost losing the pole when it jerked back hard. Danny dropped her pole in her excitement to help Claire, and it jerked on the deck when another fish swallowed her hook and then tried to get away. Fortunately, the pole was pulled along the deck sideways and got caught by rail mountings so they didn’t lose it. Both women were screaming and laughing, trying to reel in the first fish. Jamie’s head jerked up hearing the chaos outside. His book forgotten, he ran to the deck and watched Claire and Danny pull the same pole, losing themselves in laughter. He grabbed the other pole and demonstrated how to reel and pull the fish, but they were hopelessly lost in their fun. He felt the fish release his line and swim to freedom while he reeled in the hook and set the pole aside to help Claire. From behind Claire, he moved her hands, holding them still while the fish ran the line out again, and then pulling up sharply to set the hook deeper. Danny held onto the pole like it was a lifeline while she bent over laughing. When the fish was exhausted, Jamie had them walk the pole and fish along the side deck where he could net the beautiful sunfish that would feed them that night. Claire and Danny jumped around the aft deck, lost in their celebration. Jamie made quick work of gutting the fish and cutting away the parts that were unusable. The chef roared from the side deck to stop as Jamie was about to throw the head far from the boat. “That head will make the best fish head soup!” The chef took command of the fillets and head and left them for the galley, very excited at their catch. Danny showed Claire how to wash with soap and then cut lemon sections to rid the skin of the fishy smell. Danny went to lie down until dinner and the crew was cleaning the main saloon, so Claire went outside to fetch her godfather and Joseph off the deck. They went down to their rooms to tend their sunburned skin and nap. Jamie pulled Claire to their rooms and closed the door before pushing a button that pulled the blackout shades down the massive windows. He pulled Claire to the bed and suggested a movie to which she happily agreed. “This is a classic that I found in the video library upstairs. I think you will really like it.” Claire cuddled up to Jamie when the movie started and was well into the story before it suddenly heated up with erotic scenes between two lovers. She couldn’t pull her eyes away as the characters showed body parts she didn’t expect to see. Jamie watched her face flush as the scenes became more erotic and he chuckled, suggesting they watch something else. “No! I mean, don’t you want to see how it ends?” “As you say, love.” Claire lost herself in the beautiful actors and for the first time, watched a woman making love as her breasts bounced with the pounding. The woman’s inner thighs looked so soft as she spread them for the man’s mouth moving toward her core. When the sex got rough, Claire’s panting was giving her arousal away. “Should we find another, sweetheart?” Jamie pulled her in front of him, between his legs, and pressed her back against his chest in a relaxed posture. Claire was hypnotized by the sex scenes and hardly noticed Jamie pulling her feet to the sides to open her legs. When he touched her, it was like a firebomb to kindling and he gave her all the thrills she had just seen. When they collapsed, gasping for breath, Claire was panting out “how” and “why” and certain unintelligible words making Jamie chuckle. “It takes a bit of work the second time in the same day, love.” “Wow, that was… wow.” After another shower, they finally stumbled to the table for dinner and Jamie was still chuckling at her deer in the headlight eyes. She needed help to come back to the here and now, even though he loved her expression and blush. “Sassenach, how do you like the fish you girls caught today?” “Hmm?” “The fish, how do you like it?” Claire looked at her plate like she just realized she was chewing food. “It’s wonderful! I really love it.” She and Danny started talking about the next party, and Jamie knew she was back on earth. He missed his starry-eyed wife instantly. They shared a closeness for the rest of the evening and he cuddled her in their bed that night wanting to hold her close all night long, but that was not going to happen. Jamie’s eyes would not close, his breathing would not deepen, and his mind felt like a pinball game in play. He rolled quietly out of bed and made his way to the studio. A painting was clamoring to get out, and he felt the crushing responsibility to get it right. Sunrise filled the studio with light as the third canvas was sent to the failure-closet, so named that very night because it had not happened to him before. He went to his sketch pad to work out the dimensional issues and used colored pencils to test the color differences. If he couldn’t find the skill to paint it accurately, he wouldn’t do it. It was that important. Jamie knew Claire would be up soon and he wasn’t ready to share this picture yet, so he put his drawings away and put the five-lads on the easel, then he went to snuggle with his wife. Claire hugged Javier for a full minute, and then Joseph. She wiped a tear off her cheek and smiled bravely wishing them a good flight back to Paris. They both turned in their seat and waved as the taxi pulled away. “Darius and Maia return tomorrow and then we weigh anchor for strange places Sassenach. Perhaps the three of us sit on the deck today and fish. What do you say?” Danny jumped to fetch whatever Claire needed that afternoon. She could feel her melancholy, and her maternal instincts took over. At least until the first pole nearly bent in half from a monster fish that latched onto Jamie’s hook. The women abandoned their poles to render aid that was not needed, and Jamie tried to reach his pocket when he felt his phone vibrate. It was hopeless reaching through the women’s glee, so he held his pole out to the side with one hand and clicked to answer the call. “What the hell is going on over there?” “Two excited women helping me boat a fish, but it could be long gone by now because I can’t feel the pole move anymore. What’s up?” Jamie listened to the instructions given, “on my way.” Handing the pole to Claire, he excused himself to tender Darius back to the yacht, and Claire looked confused when the pole was no longer bouncing. It was obvious Darius was hurt and Jamie helped him into the tender without commenting on his bulging eye that was swollen shut, his bloody mouth, or his arm held tightly to his side. “Hospital?” Darius shook his head, “boat.” Darius crept into the saloon hoping to make it upstairs before anyone saw him but the stairs were impossible. He turned around to use the elevator and heard Claire’s voice as he winced from his broken ribs. “Don’t you fucking move, Darius.” She led him to the galley by his good hand and pulled his sunglasses off while he voiced his complaint. Claire grabbed the emergency kit, a frozen steak, and led him up to his rooms. He couldn’t lay down because the position drove the broken ribs into his lungs so Claire cleaned the wounds as best she could. “I didn’t know you had such a crush on me, Claire.” “Shut up, you idiot. What happened to you?” “I don’t want to talk about it.” Jamie found Danny cleaning up the fishing gear and looking worried. “He probably told you to leave him alone, and while that works most of the time, it will not work today. Maia knows what to do so get her back here so she can help him. Jamie, please do this.” Jamie was naturally resistant to Danny’s gift, but he heard the edge in her voice and reached for his phone. Twenty minutes later, a wide-eyed Maia was climbing into the tender asking how bad the injuries were. She interrupted his explanation saying she could swim faster than he was going so he pushed the tender to its limit and soon they were flying across the water. Maia could hear Claire arguing with Darius as she approached their rooms and kindly asked Claire to wait downstairs. She glanced at Darius and saw his tears of pain and frustration. So she helped Claire exit the room and locked the door behind her. Claire could hear them talking and ripping packages of emergency supplies. She was terrified and crying, having never seen anyone fresh from a brutal fight. Jamie put his arm around her and led her downstairs where the three of them waited in the saloon to hear more about his injuries. Maia cleaned the wounds, wrapped his ribcage, and slapped his good hand when he tried to loosen the ace bandage constricting his breath. She pushed a pain pill into his mouth and moved her finger along the base of his teeth searching for a loose wiggle. Ten minutes later he could lie down, gingerly. She knelt next to the bed and put her head down, fighting the tears she didn’t want Darius to see. His good hand stroked her hair, and he whispered to her that everything was alright. When she gave in to the sobs, he held her as best he could and reminded her he was the captain with a job to do and she was expected to help him for a little while. “Darius, of course I will. I’ll pull the boat with my bare hands if you ask me to!” She held his hand against her cheek and searched his face, feeling relief when he smiled at her. “It’s alright,” he said, stroking her hair. “My face scared you, but you patched me up with a steady hand, and now you need to cry a bit. It’s okay to cry, and then I wonder if you might tell the others what happened so we can all shake it off and depart in two days.” Maia could see he was asleep and covered him before going downstairs. Her eyes were puffy from crying and nothing would change that, so she walked into the saloon and told them what happened. “Darius sends most of his pay to his family and mine. His sister lives in a small house with her baby and husband, and Darius’s two brothers moved in a year ago because they were homeless. Darius said the house was a horrible mess. The front door had been kicked in, glass was missing from windows, the baby was crawling through filth. His sister is afraid of the brothers who spent all the money Darius has sent. Her husband leaves on Monday to work on Mykonos and he is gone all week. Darius ordered them out of the house and called the husband, telling him to walk off the job and come home to protect his family. Darius said he would cover his pay. They jumped him and beat the shit out of him.” Maia looked up, “sorry for my language. He has a job to do and I will help him. We leave in two days, nothing has changed.” Danny held her hand up to stop Maia and seemed to struggle with the right words. “I know it’s hard for the four of you to accept my gift, and I don’t talk about it much, but I have to tell you something. Darius suffered an impact to his abdomen, a kick I think, and his spleen is bleeding. I can see it bleeding and it might have to come out. If I could get close to him I will know for sure. This could threaten his life, so we shouldn’t wait. Please wake him and ask if I can see him, Maia.” “C’mon.” When Darius didn’t wake up right away, Maia got scared and shouted at him. She squeezed his hand and apologized. “Is the boat on fire, sweets?” “No. Darius, were you kicked in the stomach?” “No.” He closed his eyes again and Maia muttered about Danny being wrong as she walked to the door. “Maia, yes, I was kicked in the stomach, several times. Why?” “Danny needs to see you. Something about your spleen is bleeding. Can I let her in, please?” “Yes.” Danny entered and reached for his hand, looking concerned. He watched her. “I can’t tell if it’s going to stop. We can go to the hospital now or I can check you later.” “Check later if you would, I don’t like hospitals.” “Alright, dear Darius.” Danny left and Maia sat on the floor and put her head near his on the mattress. She stroked his arm until she was sure he was asleep again. “I love you so much, Darius.” “I love you too, sweet one.” Jamie and Claire finally said goodnight and Danny went to the elevator and her rooms. All through the night, she monitored Darius, sneaking into their room to lay her hand on his foot. On one visit, she put a blanket around Maia and pulled the covers around Darius. Her last visit was at five o’clock in the morning. She kept her hand on his foot because she wanted to be sure. “You did it, young man,” she whispered, “no splenectomy for you, so kindly put your cape back on, and save the day… when you’re ready.” Danny was exhausted and desperately wanted to lie down on her bed. She rode the elevator down to her floor and held the wall as she walked. She was proud of Darius for his decision to heal. Later, Jamie spent some time with Darius and he was particularly sarcastic and funny because Darius begged him to stop making him laugh. Jamie decided that was enough painful levity for one day and left, grabbing Maia in the hall. “Maia, I have spent too much time with Darius and I don’t want to wake him up. He asked me to alert the authorities that his sister should be alone in the house waiting for her husband, but he didn’t give me the address.” Jamie pulled a notepad out of his pocket and had a pen poised to write it down. He started to move down the hall like he was in a hurry and raised his eyebrows at her. She gushed the address out and then went into their rooms. Jamie pushed the pad into his pocket and went downstairs with a face that could murder a man just looking at it. After dinner, Jamie pulled Claire into their rooms and made passionate love to her. She mumbled something about her jello legs as she slipped into her dreams. He waited until she was deep enough not to feel him roll out of bed or hear him dress. He jumped in the tender and paddled halfway to shore to avoid waking anyone. He had a mission to complete before they left in the morning. Danny stood in the dark saloon and watched Jamie paddle the tender. She was conflicted about raising the alarm or letting it happen. She whispered, “forgive me, Jamie,” and went back to bed. Jamie leaned against a large tree and dozed for half the night, waiting for the brothers. He would bet his last dollar they hadn’t left and Jamie knew the husband would not be back until the next day. His head jerked up hearing the drunken laughter of two men approaching. They staggered toward the sister’s house and Jamie cleared his throat to make them turn around. One of them addressed him in what sounded like gutter slang and Jamie smiled like an altar boy and pulled his wallet out. The men approached so Jamie lowered the wallet so they would see the large bills he thumbed through as he talked about paying them off to stay away from the sister. He was not getting through to them so he said, “Darius,” and waited. One of them shoved a fist in Jamie’s face. “We take your money and drop you in the deep ocean. No worry, you be dead.” Jamie’s eyes were wide with fright and he backed into the tree with his hands in a defensive position. They were smiling at each other coming toward him when Jamie suddenly stood upright and laughed, stopping them in their tracks. “Oh! I.. I know who you two are, you beat the shit out of my friend, your own brother!” He was still laughing while the men shot glances at each other. “You know, Darius said you guys fight dirty.” More laughter. “What a relief! Because so do I.” Jamie jumped up and grabbed a tree limb, driving his feet into one man’s face. He dropped to the ground and pulled his jacket off showing the second man his sleeveless t-shirt and the bulging muscles in his arms. Before the man could run, he grabbed his long greasy hair, and drove his knee into his back, flipped him around and pummeled his face until the man collapsed on the ground. Jamie grabbed the last of the rope he brought and wound it around the man’s legs. Both of them were tied to different trees with no possibility of escape. Jamie hoped the husband would be the first to find them. He pushed a note under the ropes and put his jacket back on. He had a naked wife waiting for him in a big warm bed. He headed for the tender. Danny thrashed in her bed, having one hell of a nightmare. She saw men fighting and one of them run away. Suddenly, the man stopped and looked directly at her, “it’s alright Danny, I won, rest now,” came the echo of his disembodied voice. Her eyes flew open and she sat up in her bed, gasping for air. She felt the presence of Jamie above her and sighed her relief as she dropped back to her pillows, feeling much better.

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n0-eyedtaissa · 3 years

Note

I hate your mom-ur choice

Ruthie could think of a list of places she’d rather be on her nineteenth birthday that weren’t the courthouse.

Maybe down at the swimming hole or at the quarry, sitting with Spyder and catching some sun rays while Dante and CD wrestled in the water, splashing and laughing happily. Or maybe a trip to the amusement park over in Centerville with Sweet Pea and Fangs, stuffing themselves silly on cotton candy and corn dogs and seeing who would throw up first after riding the tilt-a-whirl three times (one time for each of them). Ruthie would even be happy with spending her nineteenth birthday at home cuddled up in her favorite spot on the green couch, or in the backyard at the Fogarty’s house with Dante sneaking up behind her to smash her face into the cake that Maria spent all afternoon making for her. Anywhere but the courthouse.

It wasn’t a warm place. It was grey and empty and uncomfortable, almost sterile and definitely eerie. A big brown building filled with powerful people who had the ability to make Ruthie’s life a whole lot easier, or a whole lot worse. It wasn’t a place for birthdays, or for nineteen year old girls who deserved so much more than what they were given.

In the months leading up to that September, Ruthie was shuffled in and out of preliminary hearing meetings with the pro-bono lawyer she had found who was willing to take her case. She was trying to vacate her mother Emilie’s parental rights over Sweet Pea, which would grant her custody and legal guardianship over her brother.

“There’s a good case here” The lawyer said, pushing her bifocals up her nose and flipping through the manila folder that Ruthie kept full of old papers, paystubs, and utility bills, any evidence that she could prove that she was a fit guardian for her brother. “Even better is that you have people on your side to testify on your behalf. Mr. Tate and Ms. Fogarty both seem to think quite highly of you. That’s a good sign, Miss Soh-Peterson.”

The morning of the court hearing, Ruthie is a bundle of nerves. She stands in front of her bedroom mirror and smooths down the starchy fabric of the collared blouse that she was borrowing from Chimalma as an attempt to make herself look more adult. She pulls her hair out of her face with shaky hands, skips her morning coffee and her cigarette.

“Hey c’mon Sweet Pea, Tia Malma is expecting us at any minute and I can't be late today!” She tosses the twelve year old his sweatshirt and a granola bar and locks the front door behind them.

“So if you win today does that make you my mom now?” Sweet Pea asks, confused.

Ruthie laughs and ruffles his hair, her nerves being alleviated for a moment. “On paper, kind of. But things would just be how they are now, okay? It’ll always be me and you, kid.”

The front door to the Abrejo house is already open and cartoons can be heard blaring from the living room TV. Queenie is sitting on the floor in front of the TV in her pajamas, a bowl of cereal resting between her skinny legs.

“Ay, don’t sit so close!” Her mother chastises, stepping over Queenie to pull Ruthie into a bone-crushing hug.

Ruthie wraps her arms around Chimalma and breathes in the scent of her floral perfume. It’s a comforting smell, familiar and warm. Ruthie liked to watch Chimalma interact with Queenie, notices the small gestures like pushing the hair out of her face or pouring juice into Queenie’s favorite plastic cup covered with the different types of sharks, a souvenir from a summer trip to the aquarium.

“Breathe. The world works in mysterious ways” Chimalma says to Ruthie, her arms on the girl’s shoulders, smoothing away her nerves as well as the wrinkles in her shirt. Ruthie knows that Chimalma was what a mother was supposed to be like: comforting and calming and present.

Ruthie gives Sweet Pea a kiss on the forehead as she makes her way out the front door and he doesn't scrunch his nose and wipe it away like he normally would. Not today. Even he knew better than that.

Dante pulls Maria’s old boat of a car into the driveway and Ruthie slips into the backseat next to Atzi. Maria is smiling in the passenger’s seat, dressed in her best church clothes to make sure that she looked presentable when she took the stand on Ruthie’s behalf. She reaches her arm back and gives Ruthie’s knee a loving squeeze.

“You nervous?” Dante asked, his gangly arm draped over the steering wheel as he tried to maneuver his grandmother’s car through the South side of town.

“Like a sinner in church” Ruthie replies through gritted teeth.

Usually this would warrant a sigh and a sharp comment from Maria, but the older woman kept her lips in a thin line, staring forward. Ruthie could tell that she was concentrating, maybe rehearsing everything she was going to say when asked by the judge.

Dante parks the car in front of the courthouse and shuts the engine off. No one rushes to get out of the car.

“Breathe. The world works in mysterious ways” Ruthie repeated Chimalma words like a grounding mantra. She replays the phrase over and over as she gets out of the car, as they walk up the front step of the courthouse, when they’re left sitting on the bench right outside as they waited for the judge to be ready for them.

Ruthie bounces her knee up and down erratically, trying to exert some of her pent up energy and anxiety. Atzi’s weathered hand comes to rest on her leg, and with one gesture it was like she was telling Ruthie that she could stop being so nervous because she had people who were there for her and cared about her, whether they were family by blood or not.

The click-clack of high heels on the tile is enough to make every hair stand up on end. Ruthie whips her head around to follow the noise and is faced with a put-together woman in a handsome looking suit, her sunglasses still covering her eyes despite the fact that she was already indoors.

“You know you don’t really want to do this, Ruthann. You’re just going through all these hoops to get a rise out of me.” Emilie Montgomery (née Soh-Peterson) sneers at her daughter, pushing her signed sunglasses onto the top of her head, pushing her thick curls away from her face.

Ruthie can see how much she looks like her mother now. They were the same height now, though Emilie had a few meager inches due to her sling-back heels. They had the same tired-looking honey brown eyes, the same head of thick unruly curls. Ruthie knows that she’ll never end up like her mother but looking like her, looking like the mirror image of the one person in the world that she truly hated was a grim reality check. Despite everything that has happened, you can’t change who your family is. You will always carry them with you, whether that be physically, or via the emotional scars they leave.

Ruthie goes to open her mouth for a venomous rebuttal but Maria speaks up instead. “Save you energy for when you’re on the stand, mija.”

Maria turns towards Emilie, “And as for you, how dare you abandon your children then try to make yourself the victim. You’ve done nothing for those children except for make their lives more difficult because of your selfishness. Chase would be rolling over in his grave right now if he saw you doing this. How do you sleep at night?”

Emilie scoffs, taken aback by the mention of her late husband, Ruthie and Sweet Pea’s father. She recoils quickly and smirks down at Maria. “In a King sized bed with Egyptian cotton sheets,” Emilie answers smugly before turning on her heels. If they weren’t all in a court house, Ruthie thinks that Maria would have slapped her upside the face right then and there.

As soon as Emilie’s footfalls are no longer audible to them, Dante (who had been uncharacteristically quiet all morning) speaks up:

“God, I hate your mom...”

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honeymoonjin · 5 years

Text

**this work is still mine, i’ve changed my url from ksjinandtonicfics to honeymoonjin

A/N: part of the Open for Business Collab as part of BSC’s Summer & Smut project. Check out the playlist that accompanies this fic here.

Escaping to Venice for a break from your strenuous job was meant to be simple. Go there, decompress for two weeks, and return feeling invigorated. But the soulful gondolier you meet on the docks in Saint Mark’s Square has you wanting to never leave at all. 22.7k words.

Warnings for sexually explicit content: an overindulgent amount of foreplay, oral (f receiving), fingering, body worship, unprotected sex, premature ejaculation, multiple orgasms (m and f receiving), impregnation kink, praise kink, dirty talk, two diff smut scenes.

---

Maybe it was his stillness in the chaos of the crowd that caught your eye. The way the bustling tourists and peddlers seemed to part like magic to allow you to observe him uninterrupted from the other side of the plaza. He stood there, calmly sitting on one of the posts at the inner side of the dock, reading an old paperback.

He was young; couldn't have been more than 25, yet he wore the oddest outfit you had ever seen on a man his age. Deep navy pants, ballooning slightly around his thighs and coming in snugly around his knees and calves. A baggy, squarish striped shirt tucked into those pants, and a black beret. You were pretty sure gondoliers were meant to wear those flat hats with the ribbons that you had seen the rest donning, but you couldn't deny that it gave his face a golden glow, framing the light brown hair and heavyset brows below it. Odder still were his glasses; rounded lenses with spindly silver frames, and a thin cord tied to the outer edges and connecting around the back of his neck. You had seen them before on librarians and elderly people, but never on a young adult like himself.

Picking your way through the crowds, you keep him in sight, observing the way he'd occasionally look up from his novel to check on his ornately carved gondola, as if he was expecting customers to just hop right on in. As you drew nearer, you can see a sign at his feet, propped up and displaying prices and rules, written down three columns: Italian, English, and what you recognised vaguely to be Korean. You let out a breath of relief. He did speak English, then.

You finally come to a stop directly in front of him, shifting your weight awkwardly, tipping your head to try and catch his attention subtly, but he seems entranced in the novel.

You can see through his splayed fingers that the ragged, yellowed book that has him oblivious to the world around him is Heidi. You could laugh at the thought of a man in Venice getting deeply absorbed in the world of a little girl in Switzerland, but instead it endears you to watch him for a moment, eyebrows twitching slightly in surprise every now and again, an unconscious smile playing at his lips.

You glance around the square once more, feeling a little silly, and perhaps even rude for just standing here and staring at him. Clearing your throat and waving your hand at him a little, you manage to peak his attention. "Hi, excuse me, do you speak English? I'm looking for a gondola ride."

His shoulders jump a little at the sudden voice, and he slips a delicate pointer finger between the pages he's on to mark his spot as he straightens up. You withhold a gasp when his eyes meet yours and his face is fully turned to you. Part of you almost wishes you never approached him, as you know you're bound to make a fool of yourself in his presence. His eyes are the smoothest, deepest brown you think you've ever seen, magnified behind those lenses, and while the majority of his face is finely sculpted and symmetrical, his eyelids are uneven; the quirk only serves to make him more attractive. There's a mole right under one eye, and another in the middle of his opposite cheek. Those small details take your breath away; he looks so stunningly perfect, that you're glad you spoke before really looking at him; you wouldn’t have gotten the courage otherwise.

He gives you an easy smile, his eyes narrowing happily. He's pleased you came up to him, and the thought warms you inside. "Of course. First time in Venice?"

You nod shyly. "That obvious?"

His lip twitches up. "You're wearing business casual in a city where the main forms of transport are boats and walking. I would go so far as to suggest it's your first day."

You laugh nervously, glancing down at the blouse-and-pencil skirt combo you had donned this morning. "These are really the only types of clothes I own. Anyway, uh, the sign says 100 euros, right? How long's the ride?"

He finally puts down the book; slipping in an embroidered handkerchief from his back pocket as a bookmark and chucking it into the main compartment of the boat. "Depends on how big the waves get," he replies easily, tipping his head as he looks over you.

You splutter. "The waves? Oh, I don't want to get on if it's-"

"Relax, uptown girl, I'm just playing with you. It's an hour round trip. Most gondoliers only take forty-five minutes, but I like to be more thorough, get you a real good feel for the city. And it's actually 80 euros."

"Oh." You blink down to the placard by his feet, then up to him. "The sign says 100."

His grin is different to last time, less boxy and open, more sly. He pats you on the shoulder teasingly. "Take the discount, sweetheart. In you get."

It takes you an embarrassingly long time to get on board. With legs wobbling more than a new-born deer, you gratefully accept his hand and shoulder to lean on for support so that you can step off the dock and into the carpeted bay.

Although narrow, there's a surprising amount of room; you look around as the man behind you starts to unmoor the gondola from the dock. The bench you're sitting on now is lushly upholstered, and even has silk cushions with intricate designs like something off a Persian rug. It faces you to the front of the boat, away from the man. In front of you are two square stools that are bolted down at the bottom. "I didn't catch your name," you call out, twisting around, feeling surprisingly stable amongst the rocking of the vessel.

He's standing on a platform on the left back, and you have to crane your neck up to see his face as he smiles calmly down at you. "You never thought to ask before getting into a stranger's boat. Oh, my." Your hands fly out to grip the sides of the gondola as he kicks off from the dock with a hard shove of his foot, and the boat begins to heavily cut through the still water. "My name is Taehyung. To whom do I owe the pleasure?"

You give him your name with a friendly smile, then turn back around to face the front, watching as the golden angel figurehead appears to navigate the cloudy teal waters. You'd be quite content to sit here in amiable silence, letting the taxing strains of the job you'd taken a break from slip away from you, but it seems Taehyung is not.

"So, what brings you to Venice?"

A part of you dies inside. You hate small talk. "Vacation, of course."

He hums, unsatisfied with your curt response. "Well, I was thirteen when I came here," he reveals, and you're secretly glad you're facing away from him as you pull a face of annoyance. "A woodworker took me in to his home and taught me how to live like a real Venetian. I fell in love with this place; the history, the culture, the way of life. I'm still friends with his son, who's since inherited the family business. Strangely enough, they were Korean too, which, I suppose, was why the old man took pity on me like he did. It's a small world, after all. I owe him everything."

Your eyes are wide with awkward tension once he finishes. What the fuck were you supposed to say to that? "Oh, wow," you state lamely. It feels wrong to let those words fizzle into an unsympathetic silence. "Could you tell me about Venice, then? I think the gondoliers are meant to give proper guided tours, right? Like, what's this bridge here?"

You point ahead at the impressive structure, though it's not like he would miss it. It bridges the gap of the whole Grand Canal, white stone that arched gracefully below, and housed a pathway on top that was filled with tourists.

"The Rialto," he clarifies simply. With a slight laugh, his voice becomes playful again. "Are you not impressed with my tour so far? Am I not living up to your expectations?"

You frown and swivel back around to face him. "I didn't mean that," you protest hastily, "I just thought this would be more Venetian history and less... autobiographical."

His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and your eyes are caught by the flash of pink, swallowing hard. "My apologies," he replies flatly, though you can tell he's not seriously annoyed, "I'll be sure to save my emotional tale of adolescence for the therapist."

You let out a surprised laugh, and he cocks an eyebrow at you, hands resting easily on the oar that he uses to steer the gondola slightly rightwards around a gradual bend in the canal. The strangely combative energy dissolves away, and you let the tension in your shoulders ease.

Once you settle back in against the pillows, he does as requested and gives you a very informative narration for the remainder of your tour. Important dates in history, facts about the culture, even small tidbits of advice here and there when you'd pass a cafe he deemed 'exceptional' or a restaurant with 'marvellous' cannelloni.

In fact, by the time he docks you back at the main square, you're reluctant to get out, handing over the cash gratefully. "Thank you," you gush once your feet land back on solid ground, "I had an amazing time." You loiter, not wishing to leave this experience behind just yet. Or maybe it was him that you didn't want to leave. "So, what are you going to do now? It's getting late."

He eyes you curiously, like he's searching for something, then shrugs. "More of the same," he answers breezily. "Every day I come here in the early afternoon and park up. I'll bring a book or something to do, and hang around in case somebody wants a ride." He breaks off to laugh at himself, tugging at the hair that peeks out the back of his beret. "Honestly, you're the first person who's approached me in weeks. Normally I just wait around until everyone else has left for the night and go home for a late dinner."

Your knit your eyebrows. "That's really sad," you state genuinely, "I thought a job like this would drum up a lot of business."

"Ah, I'm sure it does for some people," he allows, eying up the few gondoliers that still remain in the square, roaming the cobblestoned courtyard, holding up sandwich boards and loudly announcing their bargains for the day. You're glad you didn't choose them. They seem boisterous and tacky compared to the gentleman in front of you. Taehyung sighs. "I've never been a good advertiser, I suppose. The right people will come to me." He winks at you jauntily, but his face quickly falls again. "Ah well, it was nice to meet you. Enjoy the rest of your trip, now? Like I said, don't forget to use the Vaporetto if you're wanting to explore the city more. It's far cheaper than the water taxis."

"Thank you," you repeat. For a moment, you stay standing in front of him as he stares at you in bemusement, but you can come up with nothing else to say to him, so you turn around and walk away.

You hadn't slept well. In an effort to enjoy the fruits of your hard-earned wealth, you had eaten at an extremely expensive restaurant - a seafood platter and then some gelato on the walk home to cleanse your palate. You promised yourself that tomorrow, you'd explore some more of the city.

But the moment you tucked yourself into the plush silk sheeted bed of the five star hotel you were staying at, your thoughts fell, almost unconsciously, to Taehyung

The gondolier that apparently hadn't had any customers in weeks before you chose to follow your curious streak. You tried to imagine what his living situation must look like if he wasn't earning any money from his job. Certainly he wouldn't have been able to afford the luxuries you had been indulging in.

But then again, that was what you got when you didn't work hard. He had said it himself; he didn't like drumming up business. Your whole career was built on that determination, that drive, something that seemed to be completely missing in him. Oh well. That was his problem to deal with, not yours.

To your credit, you had attempted to venture further out from the main square, wandering around the streets in search for something to do to get your mind off him. But the stupidest things would make your brain revert back to him.

An old bookstore. You wondered if this was where he had purchased his copy of Heidi. A man in a striped shirt taking a photo in front of a fountain. You recalled the way Taehyung's was perfectly tailored to show off his neck and some of his collarbones. Even when you took the Vaporetto, the main source of public transport on the water, you couldn't help but think of how much smoother it was to glide along the canals in Taehyung's gondola.

You had meant to take the water bus all the way to the far end of the main island, but you found yourself disembarking at Saint Mark's Square. Your eyes sought out Taehyung at the docks, and an inexplicable warm burst of relief settled in your chest when you found him, leaning against that same post, nose in the book.

You took two steps towards the dock, then paused, sending a few disgruntled tourists knocking into you and walking away muttering. He had farewelled you, you remember. Wished you well for the rest of the trip and even suggested you took the water bus instead. He probably didn't want you to go to him again. You would hate to prevent other potential customers for using his services, besides.

The smart thing would have been to give up, grab some lunch and carry on with your day. Instead, you found yourself holed up in a bougie cafe, the Florian or something, not that you had paid much attention. Barely glancing at the menu, you pointed out a cold beverage and a scallops dish, then scouted out a good table.

From here, you could just make him out through the crowd. With the same black beret and glasses, and a somewhat similar striped top, the only real difference was that his navy pants had been replaced by bright red. Streaks of the crimson shade would peek out at you from between tourists, and your heart would give a little jump every time his face came into view as well.

A small smile played at your face unknowingly when you watched him come to the end of the book, presumably the same one as last time, and sigh, tossing it into the gondola morosely, before taking off his glasses and letting them hang from the cord around his neck.

You couldn't explain what kept you here, topping up your overpriced Italian soda, even as the waitress insistently offered you the bill. You were curious, that much you knew. Curious about whether he'd get any customers or not.

The moment he gets another customer, you vow, I'm going. As the hours passed, you really couldn't say if you wanted him to get a customer or not. It displeased you to see him there so bored, with nothing left to do but wait now that his book had been finished, and you were a little worried about his financial situation.

As other gondoliers came and went, some of the more charming ones forming lines by their concession stands, you saw Taehyung stare hopelessly into the crowd, eyes following all the couples and families that walked right past him. His eyes had drooped on the edges. His chin tucked down to his chest.

You stood up abruptly, the chair legs scraping against the outdoor tiling. The waitress nearest you jumps at the noise, but quickly rushes over and hands you the black leather folder with your bill inside. You're too distracted to care, but the total makes you falter for a moment, handing over the cash with a hurried motion so that you can slip out of the shade and into the full blare of the sun.

Now that you were pushing your way through the thronging crowd, you had to force yourself not to break into a jog. Why can't I just leave enough alone? you questioned. Why do I care so much?

"Taehyung," you shout as you approach him, drinking in his reaction. He starts, breaking from his trance-like state of boredom, and his eyes slide around the crowd until they land on you. A boxy grin lights up his face, eyebrows lifted in surprise. When you come to a stop right in front of him, you feel breathless. "Taehyung," you repeat, "I don't suppose you have enough time to squeeze me in for another go?"

He scoffs good-naturedly. "Always time for you, uptown girl."

You can't stop the beam that stretches across your face now that you're back in his presence. He's addictive; a voice like honey and eyes sweeter than sugar. You feel a little dizzy. "My name is Y/n, you know." Your eyes widen. "Oh god, I did tell you my name last time, right?”

"You sure did," he chuckles, "but I like uptown girl more. Suits you."

You bite your lip awkwardly as his eyes roam over you in bemusement. This morning, you had swapped out your trusty black heels for some flats, but you had still donned a skirt-and-blouse combo. Having only work-appropriate clothes in your suitcase, you were left with no other option. Perhaps a more constructive use of your morning would've been to go shopping, you think. "Is it just the same tour? Or do you have, I don't know, different ones?"

He blinks at you, looks down at the gondola, then back at you again. "Honestly," he admits, "no. You're the first one who's ever come back for a second time. Most people are one and done, you know?"

"Oh." You shrug awkwardly, feeling a little stupid. "I guess just the same tour is fine, then. It's okay."

His eyes flicker up to the clouds without focus as he ponders something, humming unconsciously. "How about this? I need to stop by the squero to get that stool fixed," he points at the stool on the right half of the gondola, which you notice is on an angle, with a couple of bolts missing at the bottom, "so, how about I give you a real taste of Venice? Not just the touristy shit."

Something about the thought that you were venturing somewhere a little more... private excites you. "The squero?" you inquire, not familiar with the term.

His smile widens at your interest, and your heart jumps when some clouds part, and the sun streams down on him. He's too attractive to be in this job, you think. He's radiant. Unaware of the turn your thoughts have taken, he simply sighs blissfully and tips his head up to receive the warm rays, eyes closing. "The squero," he repeats, voice huskier than before, "it's just a district where us gondoliers go for repairs. In fact," his eyes crack open and his head snaps back down to capture your gaze suddenly, "I do believe I told you about the workshop yesterday. It's where I grew up. I hope you were listening."

You laugh reflexively at his teasing grin. "Thanks to your unorthodox methods, I think I remember that part of the ride more than the actual tour."

"Unorthodox methods," he muses, nodding slowly, "that's a new one. Hop on in, then, uptown girl, let's go for a joyride."

The workshop you dock at seems much like Taehyung himself; homely, humble, and impossibly endearing. Strangely enough, it comes as somewhat of a contrast to the rest of Venice, as the design of the building’s façade is closer to what you’d see on a mountain chalet. Instead of the white stone and tan roof combination that is seen throughout the rest of the city, this shop, and some others along the backstreet canal you were in, had dark, rough wood exteriors like a log cabin, and several small balconies with heavy forest green curtains and flowerboxes. The bottom level is the workshop; the entire front is a sliding door that has been pushed all the way open, and it seems the upper levels might be residential, for the workers to live in.

“So, this is where you grew up? Seems nice.” You don’t mean to sound ingenuine, but it comes out flat, so you rush to explain yourself. “It looks really…warm and welcoming. It’s different.”

His voice comes above you, distracted as he navigates the gondola to park right in front of the storefront. “Different? Isn’t the whole point of a nostalgic childhood home to be warm and welcoming? It’s where your family is, after all.”

“Eh,” you shrug non-committedly, “mine was more of a…museum exhibit on houses, or a movie set or something. Flat, cold. Nostalgia isn’t really a concept I’m all that familiar with. Or family, for that matter.”

Taehyung rests the oar on its forcola and steps down into the bay where you’re sitting, taking a seat across from you in the unbroken stool. He lets his gaze hang heavy over you, deep brown eyes fixed to yours. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he states with a serious emphasis, “for me, family is everything. I can’t imagine life without my loved ones.” You’re a little taken aback by his earnest delivery, more so when he rests a hand on your knee, the contact burning hot through the thin material of your pantyhose.

“Uh, it’s okay,” you reply breathlessly, “I keep busy.”

His mouth droops at the edges at that comment, but he picks it up to give you a reassuring smile and squeeze your knee. “Come on. I was gonna drop you off at the café down the road while I sorted this out, but how about you come inside with me, yeah? I’ll introduce you to some full-blooded Venetians.”

Those ‘full-blooded Venetians’ turn out to be two young men, vaguely Taehyung’s and your age, arguing loudly across the workshop floor in an endearing mix of Korean, English and Italian as the two of you enter, drowning out the light jingle of an overhead bell when you first step over the threshold.

“We have a visitor,” Taehyung loudly proclaims in English, and you grin at the way his commanding voice carries across the room, shutting the two men up.

The one hunched over a bench covered in wood shavings looks up from the chair leg he’s carving. His pillowed lips are tensed in a pout and he gestures angrily with a metal file at the other, a younger boy who’s standing at the far end with an oily rag tucked into some old jeans, carrying a pile of gleaming tools. As if in an effort to include you, the older man shifts seamlessly into complete English himself. “This kid seriously just asked me why we don’t just put the tools in a dishwasher to save him polishing them! Please tell me your guest is here about the job opening!”

You feel terribly small around these new people, and instinctively you find yourself shuffling closer to Taehyung, feet sliding silently across the worn stone floor. Taehyung reaches over to pat you on the back, then leaves pressure there as he walks you forward further in. “A customer,” he explains, “so please play nice.”

The boy, having been left out of the conversation for too long, dumps the tools noisily in a white bucket, making the three of you cringe at the clanging, then rushes over, skidding to a stop in front of you. “Jungkook,” he introduces himself as, “it’s an honour to have such a beautiful lady in my shop.”

“Your shop?” the elder asks incredulously, slamming the stick of wood on his work bench and standing up, brushing tight curls of wood off his faded blue tee. “Do you pay rent and electricity? The moment someone applies for your position, you’re out! I’m Jin, by the way,” he mentions off-hand to you, before Jungkook lets out an offended cry.

“So what, you’re just gonna throw me by the wayside as soon as you find someone else?”

“Oh boy,” Taehyung murmurs, grimacing and shrugging at you apologetically.

Jungkook’s not finished. “What about all the hours I’ve spent here, hyung? I worked my way up from the bottom!”

“You’re still at the bottom, idiot.” Jin pinches the bridge of his nose. “You never listen to me, Jungkook, and you’re not good at your job. That’s the base line of it.”

The younger’s mouth falls open. He opens and closes it a few times, before shaking his head in disbelief. “I’m not good at my job? What about that figurehead I carved for that customer, hm? What about that?”

“You’re meant to carve mermaids, or angels, or something like that, Jungkook! Not one of your anime girls!”

There’s a vein sticking out on Jungkook’s neck and you’re a little concerned it’s going to burst with the way he’s clenching his jaw. “Hatsune Miku is an angel, Jin! How could you even say that?”

“Guys,” Taehyung slips in tiredly, “I said play nice. Y/n here is new to Venice. I don’t want to scare her away because you crackheads can’t act normal for two seconds.”

“Oh, yeah,” Jin notes pleasantly, as if he hadn’t been deeply entrenched in a catfight moments before, “you said she was a customer. What are you looking to buy, then?”

As amusing as the fight was, you now wish Taehyung had just let you wait at a random café. It’s a little arresting having the full attention of three extremely handsome young men on you. “Oh, not a customer of you guys. I went on Taehyung’s gondola tour yesterday.”

Jungkook gasps. “Uptown girl!”

Your eyes widen and you snap your head around to look up at Taehyung, whose golden cheeks are warm with a blush. He laughs awkwardly, and in the back of your mind you hope he speaks for a while so that you can keep watching him at this close proximity. It’s a different feeling from when you’re sitting down in the gondola and he’s up steering. Taehyung tugs at the hair at the nape of his neck. “I may have…mentioned you,” he admits sheepishly, “but it’s just because you were my first customer in a while. I was excited.”

“He sure was excited,” Jungkook manages to get out before Jin whacks him on the back of the head. “Ow! Hey! Anyway, it’s nice to get to meet you. You guys going on a date now or what?” Another hit has Jungkook lashing out at Jin with an angry frown, but the elder just widens his eyes meaningfully at him.

You splutter. “N-No, I just wanted another ride, that’s all.” Jungkook cackles, and this time even Jin can’t defend your honour. “God, I’m sorry, that was poor phrasing. Pun not intended.”

"Anyway," Taehyung continues, "I'm really here because one of my stools is coming loose, I need you to check out the bolts and tighten them up. Would you mind making sure that the wood underneath hasn't scratched too?"

Jungkook frowns. "This isn't about you, hyung. Keep your head in the game." He turns to you as Jin huffs and double-checks the tool belt hanging low on his hips, before heading out the front of the shop. Now without the presence of his boss, Jungkook shifts his weight to one side and gives you a once-over. "Y/n, right? What are your intentions with my brother?"

Your mind goes blank as you stare at the young man. "A...gondola ride? Around the canals? As his service offers?"

Jungkook purses his lips and narrows his eyes, staying silent for a moment, before the tension dissipates and he gives you a wide grin. "Excellent! Now, here are the basics: Taehyung enjoys photography, pasta, and long walks on the beach. He's an excellent swimmer and he knows how to play the saxophone although I accidentally dropped his in the canal once and he can't afford to buy another one, so he's probably a little rusty. He's good with money, but can be a little forgetful, he believes in love at first sight and wants three kids: a boy and two girls. Hyung, did I miss anything?"

You're pretty sure your mouth is hanging open, but you can't think to close it. Taehyung's eyebrows are raised in exasperation and surprise. "Kookie, no wonder you don't have a girlfriend. That's too far."

"Yeah, because I'm too busy advertising you! You're a hard sell, buddy, you know that?" Jungkook sends him a quick thumbs up before scampering away, thumping his way up a set of stairs at the far end of the room.

Taehyung sighs and collapses down at the workbench Jin was previously at, lazily pushing some wood shavings into a little pile with a finger. "Man, I'm sorry about him. He can get a little overexcited sometimes. Don't take anything he said seriously."

You already feel more comfortable now that it's just the two of you in the room, even though you can hear distant videogame gunshots from upstairs and Jin singing to himself as he worked on the gondola outside. With a sly grin, you ask, "oh, so you don't know how to play the saxophone? I knew it, I pinned you as more of a kazoo type anyway."

He chuckles, relieved that you're not too weirded out by the confronting conversation. "No, he was telling the truth about that. I studied in my spare time for almost six years while I had that old saxophone. It was second hand, and I would always imagine myself standing on a great big stage, like Carnegie Hall or something, giving this old instrument a new life." He scoffs good-naturedly at his own words, and stares down at his hands. "Sorry, in case you haven't noticed I'm a bit of a sop. Hopeless romantic, if you want to phrase it nicer."

Your eyes linger on the delicate arch of his neck, the veins in the backs of his hands, the mole on his cheek, the strong brows. Your voice is so soft it barely reaches him. "There's nothing hopeless about you."

He looks up in mild surprise, eyebrows raised and mouth slightly open. You lick your lip subconsciously, feeling as usual the way your heart raced when his eyes were on you. You think you catch them flickering down to watch the movement, but at this distance you can't be sure. You wish you were standing closer. "Y/n," he utters softly, and you realize with a bolt of excitement up your spine that it's the first time he's directly addressed you by name, "how long are you staying in Venice?" His eyes are glimmering, even in the relatively dim light of the workshop, hopeful smile playing at his lips.

Oh. You wish you had a better answer to give him than the truth. You’ve only met him twice, but you already hate the thought of leaving him and returning to your normal life. "Two weeks," you reply a little louder than needed, wanting to disperse a little of that weird electricity in the air. "Well, only eleven more days now."

He nods slowly, face falling. His gaze is directed towards you, but distant, like he's seeing right through you. You don't like it. "Well, then, if you ever have nothing to do one day, you know where I'll be."

You give him a grateful smile, then gasp, shoving your hand in your purse. "Wait, that reminds me, here's your eighty euros for the ri-"

"Keep it," he mumbles with a slightly pained smile. "I can't take money from you for coming with me while I do my own errands. I didn't realize it would take this long, I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," you protest reflexively, uneasy at the way his disposition had suddenly become so gloomy. The singing outside has stopped, and a quick glance shows Jin packing up his tools and disembarking the gondola. "I had fun today, Taehyung. Thank you." You bite your tongue, holding back the words you were about to foolishly say. Besides, you need the money more than I do.

He nods, then blinks out of his haze when the bell jingles to signify Jin's arrival. "What's the damage?" Taehyung asks, his voice perfectly chipper and a world removed from the sullen tone you had just received. Still, something in his expression remains sad, and you can't help but feel guilty, wondering if you had some part to play in his strange behaviour.

The way Jin's eyebrows narrow tells you he's picked up on Taehyung's glum mood, but he doesn't bring it up. "Don't worry about it, Tae. You know we won't charge you."

He hums gratefully, then stands up, rolling his shoulders. "Thanks, hyung. I appreciate it. Anyway, I need to go drop Y/n off back at Saint Mark's, so I probably won't come back here before I go home."

Over Taehyung's shoulder, Jin frowns at you meaningfully, eyes soft with concern for his friend. You wave a dismissive hand. "Oh, that's okay, you don't have to do that. I was actually going to suggest I could walk back. You know, use the chance to explore a little more of Venice."

"Ah, good idea," Jin says loudly, giving you a grateful smile. "Taehyung, why don't you stay for dinner?"

The young man fixes you an unsure glance, so you just give him a quick wave, and turn around to leave. He doesn't protest.

Your third day sees you pounding the pavement, determined to spend your time thinking about something other than Taehyung's strange attitude the other day. You fully plan on going back to Saint Mark's Square at some point, to give him his eighty euros if nothing else, but for now you get the Vaporetto to drop you off at one far end of the city, aimlessly wandering through streets to find your way back.

It's a nice way to spend your morning, and the fresh air is a welcome change from the stuffy, perfumed rooms of the hotel you were staying at. In fact, last night you had found the hotel more suffocating than ever; like those perfectly wallpapered walls were gradually getting closer and closer together when you weren't looking.

For the first time since stepping foot in Venice, you had even entered some of the stores you passed. Picking up some souvenirs to put on your work desk when you returned, a pair of overpriced yet insanely comfortable kitten heels, and some romance books you had found in a bargain bin in this tiny bookstore down a dark alley, you were feeling happy with your purchases, but more than ready to make your way back to your hotel room and ease the strain of the bag handles pulling heavily at your forearms. With the help of Google Maps, you managed to find a street you recognised, one that led directly on to your hotel.

Putting your phone away, you simply let yourself enjoy all of your senses being overwhelmed by this new place. Although you were walking along a stone road, you could smell the salt of the canal that ran parallel to it, behind the buildings on your left side. Upon your initial arrival, you had turned your nose up at it, quite literally. It wasn't the fresh and clean salt smell of the sea, but was tainted with inner city living, the litter from passers-by and the petrol from boat engines. It had felt like an illusion broken, but now you were beginning to get used to it, to appreciate the story that brackish water told.

As you strolled, your reflection in the gleaming glass panes of the storefronts strolled with you, and you found yourself turning your head every so often to get a glance at it. Was it the romance in the air, or did this version of you look a little taller? A little brighter, a little less run-down? No more than two and a half days here, and you were already dreading your inevitable return to the monotonous trudge of your working life.

A sudden, metallic glare cuts right into your retinas and you squint, pausing in the street. The shop you stand across is unbelievably old, more so that its worn companions beside it. Paint flakes away from the wooden sign, so that the cursive Venetian Antiques can barely be deciphered. The main window, presumably the cream of the crop to draw in customers, is mostly filled with vases of delicately blown glass and figurines carved with rich dark woods, but right in the middle, on a purple velvet cushion corded with gold, lies a saxophone, slightly beaten in on one side but polished to gleaming perfection, sporting a small paper tag tied around one of the keys. Jumping out of the way of a small boy running recklessly down the street without shoes, you take the hint to stop standing in the middle of the path, and walk right up to the glass. Now that you're near enough, you can rise up on the tips of your toes to catch a glimpse at the price, scrawled with an extremely curlicued dollar sign. $850. You just about stumble straight into the glass when you read it. Holy fucking shit! No wonder he couldn't afford a new one at that cost, and this one was second-hand too.

A jingle of a bell catches your attention, and you pull your gaze to the side, where an old man pokes his head out, tugging unconsciously at the end of his greying beard. "In che posso servirLa?"

Your eyes widen as you blink at him. “Sorry, I don’t…”

He smiles good-naturedly, ruddy cheeks lifting to crinkle the corner of his eyes. "I asked," he translates in a thick Italian accent, "how I could help you. Do you need help?"

"Oh." You smile gratefully then look back at the saxophone. You should just walk away. It's stupid... "Is this price negotiable?"

"The saxophone?" He grins. "Of course, I am Italian. Come inside, signorina."

The antiques store is musty as all others are, but instead of feeling cramped and stuffed with useless unwanted items, something about it seems magical, romantic. As the old man reaches into the display case to pull out the instrument, you wander around the main bay of the store, looking over the offerings. A tall bookcase closer to the back of the shop, just beside the counter, holds rows and rows of worn paperbacks, some with rubber bands just to hold them in one piece. You wonder if this was where Taehyung brought Heidi. You wonder why all your thoughts lead back to Taehyung these days.

The voice approaching you from behind knocks you out of your musings. "A beautiful instrument, the saxophone. How long have you played?"

"Oh, I," you bite your lip as he walks around and rests it gently on the countertop. Why were you even looking at it? "I wanted to maybe buy it as a gift for a... a friend."

"A friend?" he repeats, wiggling his eyebrows teasingly. "For just a friend, this is six hundred euros, but for a lover... four-fifty. We are in Venice, after all."

You splutter and flush, but he takes no notice other than to grin salaciously at you. "I don't have that much cash on me," you admit.

He scoffs heartily and bends down to rummage below the counter, returning with a small wireless machine. "Then it is so good for you that we live in the 21st Century and not the Dark Ages, hm? €450?"

I can still back out, the rational voice in the back of your mind screams. This is stupid, and it would blow your entire Christmas bonus from last year that you had taken such care to save. But you found yourself handing over your credit card nonetheless, feeling your heart race as he went into a back room to fetch the case and accompanying materials.

Your arm muscles scream every step back to your hotel, but for some reason even that doesn't stop you from smiling giddily the whole way.

"You're back, uptown girl!"

The fact that he noticed you before you got the chance to call out to him, as well as the use of your nickname again, has your spirits peaking immediately. You beam like a child on their birthday and nod. "Here," you state quickly, thrusting your clenched fist out to him, several paper notes sticking out, "the eighty euros for the trip yesterday."

He raises a brow at you, working his jaw, before sighing in bemused exasperation and gratefully accepting the cash. "I forgot to tell you something yesterday..."

You blink up at him. "What?"

"I have a lucrative buy-two-get-one-free deal going."

You could laugh at the deadpan expression on his face, but instead you just smile widely. "Oh, really? I thought you never got repeat customers?"

He shoots you a warning look, wry smile tugging at his lips. "Hence why I forgot to tell you earlier. Come on in, then, let's go!"

You have to appreciate his enthusiasm, and you can't pretend like you're not thrilled at the fact that he clearly wants you around. This time, when you hop into the gondola, you sit on the newly repaired stool instead of the upholstered couch. This way, you can face him head-on. Once he stands in position and glances down at you, he laughs quietly and shakes his head.

"You're meant to be enjoying the view," he advises, waving a hand out in front of him.

You don't waver. "I am."

Taking a ride while facing the wrong way is dangerous enough in a train or campervan. Here, on the gently bobbing water, it's hellish. Of course, you don't let him know that, though you're sure he's noticed the death grip you have on the curved wood sides of the boat. Taehyung himself glides as smoothly as ever, parting the water with a steady hand on the oar, occasionally stretching a leg out to kick off a wall that approaches too closely, but now that you can no longer see what's ahead, every slight judder or turn has your stomach sloshing more so than the canal water itself.

It's worth it, though, to be able to gaze upon his profile as the slowly setting sun lights it up in a rich bronze glow, sharp jaw casting shadows on the column of his neck. You can almost forget the way your heart bobs in your chest to match the gondola when you let yourself drown in Taehyung. "You know," you point out casually about fifteen minutes into your ride, "I've gone past some other gondolas who have been singing. Can't you sing for me?"

He huffs out his nose with an incredulous smile. "The man that raised me once told me, ‘never fall in love with a woman, son. They're never satisfied.’"

"I can be satisfied," you think softly, and it's not until he looks down at you sharply in surprise that you realise you spoke aloud. "I'm sure you have a beautiful voice."

His eyes waver at the clarification, the smile faltering. "The singing," he muses, "yes, I suppose I do. Alright, then."

You're glad that you chose to suffer the motion sickness of the gliding gondola, because nothing could be better than those next forty-odd minutes. He has the voice of an angel to match that face of his, and you find yourself totally speechless. The first song is quiet, like he's unsure; more of a whisper than a melody. His eyes keep darting to you and away, but your reassurance once he's finished that it was truly magical has his confidence growing. The songs aren't all the same either; he mixes traditional Italian love songs with hauntingly beautiful Korean ballads; powerful opera with a sweet lullaby he remembered his mother singing to him as a baby.

When he pulls up back at that familiar dock, you don't want to acknowledge it. Don't want to leave at all. You stay motionless, sat on the stool as you stare up at him in wonder.

He looks back from mooring the boat, one foot up on the dock in a crouch, the other still on the boat, holding them close together. Your eyes are firmly fixed to his upper arms, the way the muscles strain under the light grey cotton of his striped shirt. It's clearly a staple of his, among the black beret and ballooned pants. He notices you staring and gives the rope an extra firm tug with a cheeky grin on his face. "Come on now, pretty girl. Show's over; it's getting late. You want a hand up?"

With a satisfied smile, you stretch out your hand and place it in his palm. He steps up, both feet on the dock, and practically lifts you out with the one arm. Stumbling a little with the voracity of the motion, you're forced to press your hands against his chest to avoid barrelling into him, and the touch sends a shock running up your spine.

Taehyung's eyes meet yours, then lift to stare at your hair. Mouth parting in surprise, he lifts up a hand. You instinctively duck, then straighten up and let him run his fingers through your hair. You're completely bewildered, until he pulls his hand back down and shows you the dried-up, dead petal that was caught between the strands.

"I wonder how that got there," he muses, eyes lighting up with mischief as a smile overtakes his face, "I should probably check to make sure there aren't any more." And with that suggestion, he promptly lifts both hands up to slip his fingers under your hair, calloused pads running along your scalp, and slowly dragging them out again, your hair tugging slightly on the occasional knot or snag. He does this once on top, second underneath by the nape of your neck, and then one last time starting from just above your ears, only this time he pauses when his hands are buried deep in your hair.

Your eyes are wide and your breath is shallow. "Taehyung," you whisper, though you don't know why. His name just slips out of you like a reflex, or a prayer.

His deep brown eyes are searching intently over your face, stopping when you dip your tongue out to wet your rapidly drying lips. Almost unconsciously, you're tipping your chin up, eyelids fluttering lower and lower.

The moment his grip on you tightens slightly and his brow lowers in determination, your eyes fall shut, and you lick your lips quickly once more, waiting for his kiss. But after a moment, nothing comes.

Just when you go to open your eyes again, internally dying of embarrassment at somehow misreading the situation, you feel the slightest of pressure right in the middle of your left cheek.

Not so much as breathing, you stand perfectly still, mouth parted as his lips leave you and plant an equally soft kiss on your right cheek. After that, a shorter pause than earlier before you feel him kiss your forehead, just below the hairline, and the tip of your nose immediately afterwards.

Almost shaking in his hold, you wait in anticipation for a kiss on your lips, but then his hands are slipping out of your hair, and your eyes are opening back in confusion, and his cheeks are a fiery pink as he fails to meet your gaze.

As he takes a deep breath to centre himself, you find yourself in a haze, wondering if he would've kissed you properly had you brought that saxophone with you. But then the fog clears, and you're berating yourself at the thought of buying his affections like that.

Taehyung blinks and swallows hard, clearing his voice before he speaks, although he can't hide how husky it's become. "I- We- I'm sorry, I... I have to go."

You watch in stunned silence, four different parts of your face tingling wildly, as he abandons his gondola, and you, and rushes frantically forward, disappearing amongst the crowd.

You wonder if he was waiting for you today. Perhaps you're just a coward, but you don't think you could've faced him after yesterday. Instead, you've spent the day holed up in your room, moping around in a white hotel robe, doing absolutely nothing but reliving that moment with Taehyung over and over again in your head. At the current moment, the sun is setting over Venice, and you're sitting cross-legged on the bed, staring at that worn leather case on the glass desk.

It's in the same place as where you gently placed it yesterday. Looking over it now, you feel stupid. Naive. Almost five hundred euros spent on a man who was practically a stranger to you. How could you have been that impulsive with your own hard-earned cash? If you really felt like helping out the poor gondolier, there were better things you could've done with that money.

Still, your stomach twists when you think of walking back up to that antiques store to try and get the sweet Italian gentleman to buy it back from you. A gift for a lover. You scoff bitterly.

The room starts to get dark, so you heave yourself off of the tall mattress to go turn the light on. The switch is above the desk, however, and you find yourself hovering, staring down at that case with an indecipherable myriad of feelings swirling inside you. You might as well take a proper look...

Your hands float hesitantly over the silver clips for a moment before you take a deep breath and pop them open, flipping the lid over to reveal the gleaming instrument inside. It's gorgeous, gleaming, yet when you look closer you can see those tell-tale signs of wear. A thin scratch across the surface of one key, a small dent near the bottom of the open bell. The mouthpiece is slightly chipped. These things don't occur to you as flaws, however, but as quiet hints to this saxophone's history. Those differences make it all the more beautiful. As your fingers dance lightly down the body, you envision a young man on a stage in front of a large audience, all enraptured in his performance. The beautiful music that emerges breathes new life into the instrument, allows it to tell its colourful history. For what feels like the millionth time in only three days, you think of Taehyung.

Was he out there now? Waiting for you, getting discouraged as the sun sunk below the horizon, leaving insufficient light to read by? Or had he given up on you, stormed home angrily? Perhaps he was relieved you didn't show up. Perhaps he was showing another customer around Venice as you loitered here in your room. The more you think, you can't decide which outcome would be worse. Frowning, you retract your hand hastily from the cool metal of the saxophone. You feel strangely like you shouldn't be touching it. It's his.

You sigh as your instincts scream at you. Now that you're on your feet, they want to lead you out the door. It's okay that it's late; you know the way to Saint Mark's Square well. "Really?" you mutter to yourself. "He's probably not even there.... fuck."

Realistically, the moment your mind painted the idea that he might have expected you, the decision was already made. You shuck your robe impatiently and slip into a tank top and leggings, stepping into your flats before rushing out of the room.

The summer evening air is warm with the slightest shift of a breeze, and your eyes strain in the low light of the alleyways, a blue-black pooling of shadows on the cobblestone proving difficult to navigate, but you barely take notice. It's not until you're taking the last turn that leads out into the open square that you realise how stupid this is, though your heart has never thudded so hard in your chest. Your veins are electric with anticipation, holding back from breaking into a run.

There are a few food stalls and concession stands lit up with strings of white and yellow fairy lights, although they sit empty and locked up, and the reflection of the waxing moon gleams and pulsates in the shallow ripples of the Grand Canal. The slight improvement in visibility helps you locate the smaller dock a few metres down from the main one, the one Taehyung frequents, and your breath catches in your throat, heart sinking.

It's empty.

Of course he isn't there. It was a stupid idea, and you shouldn't have come. Still, you find yourself hopelessly walking closer, unable to stop until you reach the post he normally ties the gondola too, sitting down on it glumly. You let your eyes fall, staring blankly into the glossy water as it laps at the side of the dock. There are small bubbles on the surface of the water, and it doesn't seem like those ripples are going to settle anytime soon. You frown. Wait a minute…

"Y/n?"

Your head snaps up in the direction of the voice, mouth falling open. Further ahead, the opposite direction from where he had taken you on those three tours, Taehyung's standing in his gondola, waving an arm to you. Your heart soars, and before you know it you're running, skipping over uneven stone as fast as you can to reach him. You keep your head up; something deep inside you wants to keep his face in your line of vision for fear of him disappearing again.

When you skid to a stop on the ground across from him with a relieved smile, you're panting slightly, and though you can barely make out his face in the dark of the night, you can tell he's been crying judging by the way the tracks down his cheeks are luminous in the light of the moon. "Taehyung?"

He reaches a foot out to rest on the edge of the square, the level difference meaning he has to bend at the knee, and holds the gondola still. "Where were you?" he asks bitterly, before sighing and shaking his head slowly. "No, don't answer that, it's none of my business. It's not like you have any reason to come back after yesterday." He sniffs, folds his arms over his knee and plants his chin on top. "...why are you here? Why now?"

You don't like standing so high over him, so you sink down to sit cross-legged on the cool stone. "You were waiting for me?"

Now that you're sitting, his face is on level with yours, and he's close enough that you can see the watery glimmer in his eyes and the way his hair sticks out oddly at the bottom, like he's been playing with it too much. "Well-" he falters, "technically I would've been out here anyway. This is my job, you know.”

You can sense his irritation, even as he tries to keep a neutral tone. “I didn’t know whether I should come,” you admit, “I thought you might not want me to.”

His head tilts to the side, eyes soft and voice softer. “Why wouldn’t I want you?”

Your breath catches at the underlying message in his words, and although the night is practically tropical, a smattering of goose bumps rise on your upper arms. “I… You ran away. I thought you must’ve, I don’t know…” Your tongue feels useless in your mouth as you struggle to explain yourself. “I figured you changed your mind, or didn’t like me. Never mind, it was stupid, I should probably go-”

As you go to stand up again a hand flies up and latches onto your wrist, halting you in a hunched-over position. You stare down at him in shock as his own eyes widen, like he’s surprised at his actions. “Y/n,” he says emphatically, “please, get in the gondola. I’ll explain everything, I promise. I just- Don’t go. Please.”

You pause for a moment then nod slowly, silent as his hand slides down your wrist to hold your hand instead, fingers linking.

“Can you get in by yourself?” Your repeated ventures on his gondola have gotten you somewhat used to the rocking of the boat as you get on, but it’s so dark that you can barely see where to put your feet, so you shake your head. As warm as it is, you don’t fancy an illegal dip in the canal.

He smiles broadly at your hesitance and gets up out of the gondola, reaching down to hold it still, before turning to you and snaking a strong arm around the small of your waist. You squeak in surprise as he promptly lifts you and dumps you into the boat, water sloshing around the sides, threatening to spill in.

“Taehyung!” you chastise, but before long he’s hopping on himself, creating much less of a disturbance in the water, and kicking off away from the edge to start rowing. You sit back against the stool so you can keep watching him, though you can’t make out the slightest detail in his face, and rub at your arms, willing away the raised bumps. Although you can’t see where he’s headed, you know it’s the opposite way from the tours you had been on before. “Where are we going?”

He looks down at you, and the levity in his voice hints at a smile. “It’s the end of the day and there are no more tourists wanting a ride. We’re going home.”

For someone who’s done nothing all day, you feel drained and tired, and so after a minute or two of silence, you gingerly slip off the stool and lie down on the floor in the middle of the boat, just enough room between the two stools for your shoulders to be brushing the gold corded strim on their bases. Taehyung makes an amused chuckle in the back of his throat when you lie down, but doesn’t comment.

Above you, the sky is an open expanse of blue-black, fringed with the tops of buildings on either side. A cottony string of cloud slides peacefully over the moon, a fat crescent high above you. Back home, there’s too much light pollution to make out more than a few bright stars, and they’re all spread out, lightyears away from each other. You used to look up at that sky and relate to those stars, burning bright but shining alone. Here in Venice, you can make out little clusters, tiny communities of glowing pinpricks. Just below the moon, two stars are side-by-side, one white, one glowing a little more yellow. The night sky is much nicer here, you decide.

“We’re here,” a husky voice calls out, and you sit up hastily, vision going fuzzy for a moment with the abrupt motion. It’s lighter here, where you’re stopped; the canal is so narrow that the single lamp sconce above a doorway is enough to light up the surrounding area.

As Taehyung docks the gondola, tying it to a conveniently located hook embedded in the brick beside the front door, you take a look around from the low vantage point you have. It looks like the canal equivalent of a driveway, old exposed brick on either side, with a blue-green line all the way down where the water level normally sat. His house sat right on the edge of the water, there being no standing room at all. It was a dead-end, so you figured this must consist as private property; honestly, you had totally zoned out watching the stars while he was going home, and you had no idea how far away from your hotel you were. “...am I staying here tonight?” you ask curiously.

“If you want to,” he replies without looking back at you, but you can see the defensive hunch of his shoulders as he reaches up to unlock the door, which is painted a deep green, and his voice is gentle. He’s still unsure.

“Of course I want to,” you reply, “I was just wondering… I don’t have any pyjamas with me, that’s all.”

The tension in his shoulders eases as he turns the key, and the glow of the lamp behind him frames his mussed-up hair in a halo. Your eyes widen as you finally notice that he’s no longer wearing the black beret he’d donned every other time you’ve seen him. A quick glance down around you shows it lying abandoned in the floor of the boat. You quirk a smile at the image of him tugging it off dramatically to cause his hair to be so messy, but it drops when you remember you’re the reason he would’ve been distressed enough to do that.

Taehyung, unaware of your mental turmoil, opens the door inwards and turns back to extend a hand to you. With one strong tug, you’re up out of the gondola and stumbling into the house, feet re-adjusting to solid ground.

His house is still warm from the evening sun that’s now far beyond the horizon, and when Taehyung flicks a light on in the small entryway, it floods the first floor with a soft yellow glow. The walls are wallpapered with a peeling sunflower pattern and the floor is a worn grey carpet, but already you can see the touches that make this home uniquely Taehyung’s; all along the walls hang framed pictures of him at varying ages with Jungkook and Jin, a coatrack in the corner to the left of the doorway holds a heavy beige overcoat as well as several berets in different shades in the same style as the one he incidentally had left outside in the bed of the gondola, and somewhere upstairs you can hear the muffled sound of French bohemian opera.

Taehyung takes notice of this as he shuts the door behind him. “Ah, I must’ve left that on again this morning,” he mutters under his breath, struggling to lock the door behind him with one hand.

It’s then that you notice he hasn’t let go of you, your fingers still tightly interwoven. You give him a little squeeze to remind him in case he wants to let go, but instead you see a flush rise on his cheeks and a shy smile play at his mouth as he squeezes back.

“Come on,” he announces softly, tugging at your hand slightly to get you moving, “I’ll make you a drink. Do you drink jasmine tea? It’s my favourite.”

You smother a smile at his comment, simply nodding happily and following him through a doorway to the right into a small kitchen. Of course he drank jasmine tea. You wouldn’t be surprised if he also meditated twice a day and sang to the birds every morning.

His kitchen is tiny; a low roof overhangs what consists of no more than the bare necessities: he has a refrigerator, a stove, a metal sink and some cupboards in the far corner, and a small round table with a single chair across from it on the other side of the room.

Your palm goes cold as he abruptly lets go of your hand, springing forward to grab the back of the chair and pull it out from the edge of the table, staring at you expectantly. “Please sit down,” he invites, and you accept gratefully, scooting the chair across the tiles to tuck yourself back in. “I’ll just put the kettle on. Sorry about the mess, I’m sure it’s not as fancy as you’re used to.”

You shake your head in mute protest, enjoying looking over the small quirks and details you can find around the place. As he opens an overhead cabinet for some mugs, you notice he has only three of them, as well as four plates, two bowls and five glasses. It’s clear that he’s been living alone for a while.

As your eyes skim over the room, the kettle quietly bubbling away, you ask curiously, “so how did you get this place? You grew up with Jin and his dad, didn’t you? Why not stay there with them?”

He places a bag of tea in each mug and turns around, holding a finger up at you before darting out of the room. You wait in bewilderment until he returns with a small piano stool, placing it on the other side of the table and perching on the edge. “Sorry, what was your question?”

You furrow your brows. “You have a piano?”

He tips his head to the side, eyes narrowing slightly in confusion. “Huh? Oh! You mean the stool. No, I picked this up at the second-hand store. Cheaper than a regular dining chair, can you believe it? I keep it in the cupboard in case I have a guest.”

You nod slowly, lip quirking. “My question was why you live here instead of still at the workshop in the squero.”

His eyes brighten and dart up and to the right as he thinks back in his memory. “Ah, that’s right. Same reason as anyone else, really. I grew up, wanted to feel independent. This house used to belong to an old friend of Jin’s, and so I got it for a good price when he moved away from the city. I know it’s not much, but...” An unconscious smile plays at his lips as he looks over the room. “It’s mine,” he finishes softly. Once he stops speaking, there’s a comfortable silence for a moment or two before the kettle boils, and he gets up to go pour the drinks.

“I like it,” you say once he returns with two steaming mugs. He tilts his head to the side. “The house,” you clarify, “I really like it. It’s very...you.”

He blushes, though maybe it’s from the hot steam wafting over his face as he breathes in the herbal scent. “Does that mean you like me?” he asks, avoiding eye contact.

You fiddle with the handle of your mug, suddenly feeling self-conscious and shy, like a schoolgirl with a crush. “Yeah. It does. I like you a lot, Taehyung.”

He inhales the aromatic steam of the tea deeply, a couple of breaths like he’s steeling himself, before he places it down timidly. His eyes dart up to yours, dancing over your face, your lips, before he looks back down again, taking one more deep breath.

You watch him, half-amused and half-spellbound at the way his uncertainty is spelled out on his face. Tea forgotten, you flick your tongue out to wet your lips, mouth dry all of a sudden, and silently wait in anticipation as his eyes glaze over as he internally wars with himself.

Finally, he looks up at you again, and you’re lost in those deep brown eyes. “Y/n,” he says in a husky tone, quieter than perhaps he was aiming for, “can I... I want to try something.”

You swallow thickly, nodding. “Okay.”

He blinks like a deer in headlights. “Okay, just- just stay there.”

You barely manage to suppress a smile at his comment, but you can feel your heartbeat thrumming in your ear and thumping in your chest in anticipation, eyes wide as he slides the stool noisily across the tiles, scooting around the table one juddering motion at a time, until his knees are bumping yours.

A hand hovers in the air in front of your face as Taehyung bites his lip. “Are you sure?”

The breath you’ve been unconsciously holding in this whole time comes rushing out. “Please just kiss me,” you beg in a whisper, eyes desperately gazing deep into his.

When his hand finally reaches your face, brushing lightly against the skin of your cheek, his fingers tremble. You lean into his touch, feeling the contact sear your skin, and he furrows his brows in focus as he slips his hand into your hair, cupping the back of your head.

Taehyung stares down at your lips again, nods once to himself, and moves forward, using his other hand on your knee to steady himself. Automatically, your eyes flutter shut and your lips part, waiting to receive that which you’ve been longing for. When soft, pillowy lips finally press themselves against yours, you shudder under him, eyes squeezing shut even more to fully drown yourself in sensation.

The kiss is slow, languid, but rich with passion, and you feel your upper half leaning forward instinctively to be closer to him. The hand in your hair curls up slightly, fingers tugging at the roots, and you whimper into his mouth.

As he moves against you, Taehyung tips his head to the side to deepen the kiss, and you feel his tongue dip out of his mouth to press at the seam of your lips. You drop your jaw slightly to let him in, and once you feel his teeth graze your bottom lip, tugging slightly before letting it pop back, you whimper again, breathing his name into the millimetres of air between you.

He makes a little grunt, deep in his throat, and then he’s pulling away from you. Your eyes crack open in a daze, just in time to see a string of saliva that connects the two of you break and land against his chin. Taehyung sucks his swollen bottom lip into his mouth, pupils blown wide.

It’s only once you try to speak that you realise just how heavily you’re panting. “Taehyung, I...”

He retracts his hand from your hair, brushing his thumb against your cheekbone fondly as he does so, and stands up in front of you. “Do you want to come upstairs?” he asks simply.

Your response comes immediately. “Yes.”

The two of you make your way to his room in a hushed silence, each creak of the old wooden stairs at the back of the building heightening your anticipation like a tangible cloud billowing in your stomach. The melodic opera from earlier, the one that you had completely tuned out until now, crescendos as you approach.

The landing has only two doors, both swung open to reveal a bathroom and a bedroom. Taehyung takes the second option and you follow him in, hovering hesitantly in the doorway.

You take a look around as he tidies up quickly, amused at the curious blend of items strewn all over. The music, which he turns down to fade out, comes from a bulky plastic stereo that sits on the floor. In fact, he has very minimal furniture in his room at all, giving it a chaotic feel that complements what it contains.

The walls are covered with posters and photos, a sea of famous composers, paintings, pages of music pinned to the wall beside his double bed. He has a short bookcase tucked between the bed and the wall, and on it is a tiny desk lamp, and a framed black-and-white photo of a beautiful young woman holding a small infant, the glass gleaming in the light from the ceiling bulb. Beside it, stacked up from the floor, is a haphazard pile of all the old books that don’t fit inside the bookcase itself.

You smile softly, moving around Taehyung as he rushes around in a crouch, picking up abandoned pieces of clothing and shoving them inside a laundry hamper by the door. You make your way across the room to look outside the window. It’s a relatively large circle, gilded on the edges, but it’s so dark outside that you’re forced to press your nose against the glass and frame your eyes with your cupped hands to see outside.

As your breath fogs up the glass below, you can make out a small cobblestone street out the back of Taehyung’s house. Most of it is residential, but one place a little ways down looks like a restaurant, with two or three tables out on the street. You squint, grateful for the small streetlamps down there, as you make out a couple sharing a meal of something, guiding spoonfuls into each other’s mouths. Instead of sitting across from each other, they sit side-by-side, the smaller body leaning into the larger one.

You jump when a fluttering pressure lands on your bare shoulder. You pull yourself away from the window, leaving smudge marks from your fingers and nose behind, and turn your head back to face Taehyung. A smile slides across your face automatically at the way he straightens up and looks down at you with eyes full of wonder. It makes you forget about everything outside this room, outside you and him. “I want you,” you confess without thinking.

His breath hitches and his brows lift just slightly, like he can’t believe it. His eyes trail over your face for a moment, searching. When he finds whatever he was looking for in the openness of your face, his eyebrows lift and he beams. “Come to bed.”

You follow him, but at the last minute he swivels out of the way and slips an arm around your back, laying you down on the duvet gently. Your skin feels alight, even the texture of the cotton on your elbows as you scoot up to rest your head in the middle of the pillows feels electric.

He smiles to himself with a blush, gesturing for you to lift your head up, and you do so, observing him as he hastily shuffles the pillows aside so that you can lie back on one properly, instead of the gap between them. Your head falls back, far more comfortable, and you lift your hands up, making grabby motions at him.

The gorgeous man laughs softly, but obeys your unspoken command by lifting a leg up and over you, balancing himself on his knees and leaning down, brushing some stray strands of hair off your face before tenderly pressing a kiss on your lips, his forearm on the pillow beside you propping him up.

Your eyes slip shut naturally, and you allow yourself to be overtaken by the feeling of his lips on yours, his fingers playing with the ends of your hair, and the heat of his body hovering over you. When his free hand comes up to hold on to your chin lightly, thumb pressing down to lower your jaw, you clutch at his shirt, balling the fabric by his shoulders, needing an anchor. You let him take control, his sensual yet insistent tongue playing against yours as you gasp out and hook a leg up and around his waist, trying to bring him closer.

He acquiesces with a grin that you feel against your lips, and once his body is pressed flush against you, you let out a soft moan, letting go of his shirt to grasp his face instead, head lifting off the pillow to drown in him even more.

His deft fingers curl around your wrist, squeezing slightly, pulling it away before swapping to do the same with your other wrist. You pout, blinking up at him with eyes sleepy with lust when he pulls away from your lips with an audible pop.

His pupils are dilated, and his breath is coming in shallow pants. “Do you want me to turn the light off?”

You shake your head quickly. “I want to see you.”

A relieved sigh. “Good, me too. You’re so beautiful.”

Your cheeks go pink, breath catching in your throat when he comes down again, but this time his kisses land on the warm skin over your cheekbones, the left then the right. With your eyes squeezed shut and lips parted in wonder, you feel him on the top of your forehead, then on your nose, in an intimate recreation of that day on the docks. “Taehyung,” you breathe, lost in him.

When he pulls back, leaving four spots on your face burning, your eyes struggle to blink open again. He looks slightly pained, a calloused thumb rubbing lightly over your swollen lips. “You have no idea, do you?” he questions, eyes focused on the way your lips spring back when he lets them go. “How crazy I am about you?” When he sighs, you feel it warm your skin, that’s how close he holds himself. “Yesterday was a busy day. Three different tour groups came in, all wanting gondola rides. There were even a few Koreans among them. I got asked for a trip countless times. I could’ve made a fortune.”

Your brows furrow, seeing where he’s going with this. “Taehyung,” you repeat morosely, unsure what else you could say.

“I turned them all down,” he admits flatly, a hint of self-deprecation in his voice, “because I couldn’t stand the thought of you coming down and me not being there.” His fingers leave your lips, resting against your cheek instead. His eyes dart up to meet yours finally, and you note with surprise that they’re glassy. “And then you never came.”

“I’m so sorry. I- I was stupid. But I’m here now.”

The tears fade as fast as they arrived, and you’re glad he didn’t start crying, but his eyes still droop in sorrow. “Are you? I’m so scared that I’ll wake up tomorrow and this will have all been a dream.” He leans down again, burying his face against the sensitive skin of your neck. You gasp as he kisses and suckles at your pulse point. “You feel like a dream,” he murmurs against you, and the vibrations of his voice lights up your nerve endings, electricity shooting up your spine.

“I’m real,” you assure him, “can’t you feel how fast my heart is racing for you right now?”

His breath escapes him in a shudder, but he doesn’t reply, instead sitting up slightly. You watch him as he reaches for one of your hands, and brings it up to his face, pressing a delicate kiss on each fingertip. Methodically, with his eyes closed dreamily, he makes his way up the delicate skin of your inner arm, leaving behind red patches and streaks of moisture. Every gentle flick of the tip of his tongue, every scrape of his teeth, has a fire gradually building between your legs, and you squeeze your thighs together, whimpering impatiently by the time he reaches your shoulder.

He chuckles against your skin, gazing sultrily up at you through dark eyelashes. “Be patient, angel, I want to take my time with you.”

Your chest heaves and you bite your lip as he sits up, lets your arm fall gently to the bed, only to pick up your other hand and begin again. It feels like an eternity of sensation, a slow pilgrimage from your fingertips to your collarbone, and when you manage to control your quickening breaths, you can both hear and feel him mumbling against your skin as he laves at the crook of your neck.

You head tips to the side to give him more room, the ball of your foot digging into his behind more firmly as you shift your pelvis under him, desperate for friction. “Taehyung, please,” you beg, “I need you.”

He places one final kiss to the area he was paying attention to, rubbing it with his thumb to observe the wash of colour blooming on your skin with a smile. “I want you too,” he assures you, “I’ve been thinking about this all the time since the moment I saw you.”

Your eyes plead with him. “Then take me. I’m yours.” Your hands grasp at the hem of your tank top, crossing over with the intent of whipping it off urgently, but Taehyung shushes you, stopping your undressing, holding your wrists firmly above your head with one hand as he bent down and played with the edge of the fabric with his other.

You swallow hard and arch your back into his touch as the sensitive skin of your stomach is brushed by the backs of his knuckles. You rub your thighs together again. “Come on,” you whine hopelessly, turning your face to bury it against the soft flesh of your upper arm, fingers curling in the air to try and reach his hand where he’s holding you down. “Haven’t you teased me enough?”

He lets out a deep exhale and lies flat against your lower half, rubbing his nose against your hipbone, feeling you trembling under him. “I’m not teasing,” he defends emphatically, licking at the skin, pinching it just slightly between his teeth. “I’m worshipping every inch of you like you deserve.” A warm palm slides under the fabric and runs up to stretch out across the top of your stomach, holding you flat against the bed. “God, you’re perfect.”

Your cheeks are hot against the skin of your arm, and you sigh in resignation, torn between thriving off the praise, and wanting, needing, more. You lift up your head to look down at him, and feel yourself dampen even more. “Fuck, Taehyung.” Your shirt is tented where his hand spans almost your entire front, rucked up slightly to reveal the soft skin of your stomach, where he lays sloppy yet intentional kisses upwards, eyes lidded and heavy with lust as they stare up at you. You bite your lip and push at the hand keeping your wrists locked together, wanting nothing more than to reach down and card your fingers through his ruffled brown hair, but he just grins at your effort, not budging at all.

He pushes your top up further and further on his languid journey upwards, until it’s bunched up over the top of your breasts, exposing your bra.

It’s just a plain cotton one with minimal padding, the kind you wore on lazy days, but the way he’s staring down at your chest in wonder stops you from feeling self-conscious. With your hands still tucked above your head, you wordlessly arch your chest up at him, trying to make contact with the hand that hovers just above you. When the fabric brushes his fingertips, he sighs out heavily and follows you down, resting his palm gently across one of your mounds.

Nervously, his eyes dart up to you and then back down, and you grin when you work out what’s giving him pause. “Don’t know how to open it with one hand, do you?” you tease. “If only my hands were free, I could take it off for you.”

He sits back further, pressure increasing on your upper legs, the arm above your head stretching out straight. “I’m gonna let go of your wrists now,” he announces in a raspy voice, “keep them above your head, okay? Be a good girl.”

When he does let go of them to grab onto the pile of tank top around the top of your breasts, you’re too shocked to move, letting him tug the top over your head and limp arms, before tossing it away into the corner of the room.

Before his hands tuck behind your back to find the bra clasp, he lets his eyes and hands roam your torso freely, the warmth of his palms on your skin making your fingers curl into fists with the restraint not to touch him.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you lift up at the spine to grant him access to your back. He fiddles with it for a few moments gently, before hunkering down, eyes scrunched closed in concentration, but even his jerkier movements don’t free the hooks from their clasps behind you. Eventually, he huffs and opens his eyes again, looking down at you with a sheepish smile that you can’t help but return. “Would you mind taking your bra off for me? It’s, uh… it’s been a while.”

You nod but gesture for him to scoot up a bit as if you need more room, but once he does you quickly slip your legs out from between his knees and sit up, throwing a leg over his lap and pushing his chest back.

Although he could no doubt overpower you, he lets you have your way, lying back against the sheets, hair splayed out around him like a halo. The bed is just long enough that his head doesn’t fall off the far end, but you twist around to grab a pillow for him first, grinning cheekily as you repeat his earlier actions, letting him lie more comfortably. At his curious gaze, you pout at him playfully. “I can be chivalrous too, you know.”

“I’m sure.” Once you’re straddling him, Taehyung’s hands find your hips, still clad in leggings that you wish were off already, but you don’t want to give up your momentary position of power, so you reach behind you and deftly unsnap the bra, letting it fall slowly down your arms before flinging it away.

Taehyung’s eyes dilate even more, locked onto your nipples which are already standing at full attention from the excitement of his earlier ministrations. “So perfect,” he mutters to himself before a hand slides up your side and cups your breast, forefinger dancing lightly over your nipple as he splays out over it.

You gasp at the sudden sensation and curl inwards, chest coming down closer to him. “Please, more,” you plead breathlessly.

He hums in amusement, flicking the bud teasingly as you shudder, hands clutching at his shirt. “Does it feel good? God, look at you, so responsive, so sensitive for me.”

You bite your lip and rock your pelvis against him, feeling his hardness beneath you. You don’t know how he has the restraint to spend so much time cherishing your body when he’s clearly ready to take you, and at this point you honestly couldn’t say if you wished he would hurry up or take his time.

A choked cry is pulled from your throat as he kneads that breast, and, while you’re distracted, tightly pinches the other nipple with his other hand, immediately letting go and soothing the delicate flesh with his thumb.

You’re sure at this point you must be soaking through your leggings, and you grind again, but are halted by Taehyung tutting at you. “Stop that,” he warns, “if I cum now you won’t get to feel me in that pretty pussy of yours.”

A jolt pierces through you at his filthy words, but you can’t help from grinning slyly down at him. “You wouldn’t know if my pussy is pretty or not, you haven’t even seen it yet.”

He rolls both nipples under his thumbs and forefingers simultaneously, and you keen over into the contact, barely holding yourself up on his chest. “Patience,” he reminds you simply, humour lacing his tone as he watches you fall apart on top of him. “Now c’mere.” With a sudden single movement, he sits up and wraps his arms around your back, holding you flush against him to keep you steady. You’re now sat on his lap, legs wide over his crotch as he sits in the middle of the bed.

His arms stretch out just enough so that you lean back slightly in his secure hold, and before you can process it, a wet heat closes around on your left nipple. You cry out and go lax against him, falling back over his arm as you desperately grab at his broad shoulders for support.

Unlike the way he manhandled you into position, the way he worships your nipple with his mouth is sensual and dedicated, sparing no effort as he laps his tongue over it. You let your eyes fall closed and try to steady your breathing, losing your mind. You can feel every suck, flick and nibble like the sensations have been magnified, and although he scolded you for it before, you can’t help but wriggle your hips, longing for some friction between your legs.

He lets go of your left nipple with a wet pop, groans breathily, and moves promptly over to envelop your right one, triggering another throaty cry from you. Distantly, you realize you’ve been chanting his name under your breath between whimpers, a hot coil in your stomach tightening as you tremble beneath him.

A particularly harsh tug of your stiff peak between his teeth has you locking up, arms flying around his neck to hold yourself tight against him as a sudden orgasm takes a hold. Your toes curl up and you rock yourself over his crotch to heighten the feeling, moaning nonsensically as he continues to stimulate the nerve endings in your nipple, switching back to the left as you come down from your high and shy away from the overwhelming sensation.

Once he breaks away and sits upright, he looks at you in awe, lips slick and swollen. “Did you just cum from that?”

You pant, a lazy dopamine-induced smile spreading across your face. “Yeah,” you make out through shallow breaths, “you were taking too long to fuck me so I thought I should just go ahead myself.”

“Is that so?” he questions, a teasing smile playing at his lips. “I suppose now that you’ve got what you wanted, you won’t be so impatient anymore. Lie back.”

You lick your lips and do as he asked, the arms behind you lowering you slowly until you return to the soft sheets, looking up at him. Secretly, you’re glad he suggests the change of position, as your legs feel wobbly with the surprising intensity of your orgasm. “Taehyung…”

“Mm?”

Your hands fiddle with his shirt. “Let me see you.”

Suddenly, a blush is rising on his cheeks again, but he sits back and reaches a hand behind him, tugging the shirt off by the neck quickly and without ceremony.

You feel your mouth watering at the sight of him. Unsurprisingly, his arms and shoulders are corded muscle, streamlined from using the oar in the water, but what you aren’t expecting is the contrast of a buff chest and soft stomach. With the way he’s holding his arms over it, it makes him self-conscious, but it just makes him that much cuter to you. “You’re gorgeous, Taehyung,” you tell him genuinely, reaching out to run a hand over his pecs, then sliding down to brush your knuckles against his tummy as you fiddle with his waistband. “Every part of you.”

His eyes grow warm and he leans back in for another soft kiss, claiming your mouth quickly yet deeply, a kiss that speaks of comfort and urgency. He looks over you as your eyes flutter and struggle to focus on him. After waiting for you to recover again, he rubs your jawline with his thumb. “Are you still sure about this? If it’s too soon, we can-”

“Please, Taehyung,” you beg, “no more foreplay, I need you now.”

His eyebrows furrow. “Can’t I…?” You suck in a breath when his hand slips between your legs, pressing up through the two layers of fabric that separate him from your heat.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips, but you shake your head. “Next time. Please.”

That does it. His cheeks go pink and his eyes crinkle at your words, before he’s standing up to shuck his pants off and kick them away, hopping back on the bed to reach for yours.

You lift your hips off the bed to help him pull your leggings down with your panties, sucking in a breath as his hands pass over the curve of your ass and down your legs, his sense of need finally helping him pick up the pace.

Your legs fall open and your mouth goes dry with anticipation watching his dick shift in his underwear, straining at the fabric with a darker wet patch amongst the light grey. If you weren’t so desperate to feel him inside you, you’d be on your knees already.

Once you finally get the fabric off your ankles and away from you, you’re ready for Taehyung to lie over you again, but instead he grabs one of your ankles and tosses it over the side of the bed, spreading you wide open before his head ducks down and he licks a rough swipe up through your folds, collecting your wetness on his tongue. You cry out and jerk in surprise, but he’s already leaning back, pushing his tongue around his mouth like he’s savouring your taste, eyes closed blissfully.

“Next time,” he repeats dreamily to himself, before he reaches down to the waistband of his underwear, slipping it down slowly. Your breath catches in anticipation when you see the dark tuft of hair, before sucking in a quiet gasp when the underwear comes fully down, letting his erection jump out, bobbing in the air. Fuck. He’s huge.

Your leg is still haphazardly hanging off the edge of the bed, and you have no time to react before his hand is coming down between your legs to rub his flat palm against you, slicking it up before he begins pumping himself, sighing in relief at the friction.

That brief contact you had gotten against your clit when he was rubbing against you has you desperate for more, and you whisper his name in a plea for more. Taehyung looks down at you, biting his lip as he jerks off. “Condom?” he asks, and you pause for a second before shaking your head. “I’m clean, and I hope you are too, but if we don’t use one you could get knocked up, Y/n.” You stay silent, simply widening your legs in front of him. He swears lowly and gets up, getting on top of you, propping himself up by a forearm so that he’s close enough to kiss you.

His breath warms the skin of your face as he looks down and focus on lining himself up with his other hand. You bite your lip and let out a moan when you feel his head slipping between your folds and pressing against your entrance. He checks in with you one last time before the pressure increases, and then your head is tipping back weakly as the blunt head of his cock stretches your opening.

“God, you’re soaked,” he muses, “n’ so warm for me.”

With no preparation, it’s on the verge of being too big a stretch, and your eyes squeeze shut, focusing on relaxing around the intrusion. “Fuck, Taehyung…”

“Too much?” he checks, going still, though his upper arms tremble as he holds himself above you.

You shake your head. “Just go slow.”

Taehyung nods and begins to move again, stopping every inch or so to let you adjust. The feeling of him splitting you open is divine, and by the time you feel his hips flush against you, you’re panting underneath him.

He pauses there, bending down to plant light kisses all over your face until you can’t help but giggle at the ticklish touches. He stops with one last kiss on your lips, murmuring against them quietly. “How are you doing? Okay?”

With a hand pressing down on your lower abdomen, you rock your pelvis experimentally and give out a strangled moan when you feel him shift inside you. “So full,” you admit, slowly accommodating to the feeling, already wanting more.

Taehyung takes your lips once more before raising himself up a little higher for better leverage and control. He tries to pull out slowly, eyebrows furrowed tightly and mouth open as he feels you clenching around him. “Y/n,” he chants, “you fit perfectly around me, feels so good.” With that, he begins to thrust into you, a slow drag back and forth since you’re currently too tight for anything faster.

“Oh god,” you breathe quietly. Taehyung’s head falls down onto his shoulder and you can feel how hot his cheeks are. He mumbles something but you can’t make it out. “What did you say?”

“Louder,” he admits reluctantly, nose nuzzling the crook of your shoulder. “I want you to be louder. I want to hear you.”

You sigh and wrap your arms around him, holding him close. “Then make me.”

He groans at your words, but you feel the muscles in his back tense up as he starts to fuck into you with more vigour, drawing out a garbled moan with every stroke as he presses up against your g-spot.

Although he asked for you to be louder, he himself is surprisingly noisy for a guy. You can hear through his grunts and pants the effort he’s expending, and underneath it all is a low whine that comes out every time you clench involuntarily around him. You’re dripping so much that you can hear the wet smacks fill the small room, and that trio of sounds is all that is heard as you feel yourself approaching that edge again.

“Nng, Taehyung, right there, oh please, more, I need more,” your mouth goes without you even being aware of the words tumbling out, and although you try to keep your eyes open to watch his face change as he’s overcome with pleasure, a particularly hard thrust has your eyes rolling back in your head. “Fu-uck.”

“Good?” he asks, and you nod with as much energy as you have left, crying out when you feel a rough thumb massaging your clit. “Can you come for me, angel?”

“Y- So close, oh god,” your hips start canting up to meet his every thrust, making him swear under his breath.

“Me too,” he confesses, “I’m gonna need to pull out soon.”

“Come inside,” you plead immediately, “come inside me.”

“Fuck,” he groans, and you swear the force of his thrusts increase, “you want me to fill you up, hm?”

You whine hopelessly, taken aback by how he gets filthier the closer to orgasm he gets. “Please, Taehyung.”

“Look at you,” he pants, carding a hand fondly through your sweaty hair, chuckling breathlessly when you nuzzle into it, “so desperate for me. Shit, I’m almost there.”

He stops speaking to put all his effort into fucking you, maintaining the punishing rhythm on your clit, and suddenly you’re convulsing under him, propelled without warning into an even stronger orgasm than before.

Taehyung growls and his thrusts falter, off-beat but with as much force as he can muster, and soon enough he’s falling over the edge too, chest collapsing on top of you.

You smile blissfully. “That was amazing.” After a moment you get no reply, and you laugh quietly. “Taehyung?”

“I love you, Y/n,” he pants into your shoulder, sighing happily.

You freeze, even as your pussy still contracts with aftershocks from your orgasm. Your head turns quickly to look down at him, but you see him, face peaceful, eyes closed, already falling asleep.

His head rises and falls with your breathing as it slowly evens out, but even as he slumbers, you lie on your back with a sticky mess slowly drying between your legs, wide awake.

It’s not even six in the morning when the sun rises and pierces you right in the eyes, but it doesn’t wake you up. You never slept.

The whole night, as you stayed completely still while Taehyung nuzzled your shoulder in his sleep and cuddled into you, your mind was tossing and turning.

You wanted to leave, a fight or flight instinct had kicked in the second he said those three words, but somehow amongst your own personal dilemma, you couldn't bear to upset him. So here you were, neck cramping slightly, wincing at the glare of the sun through that circular window, wishing you were anywhere else.

Maybe he wouldn't remember it, you figured. You could always play ignorant, like you had never even heard, but if you did that you'd never know if he meant it or was just saying it in the heat of the moment. Surely he didn't love you already; you'd only met him four days ago.

But at the end of the day, it wasn't really what he said that was the main problem.

It was the fact that you were... beginning to feel the same. And yet you had a flight out of here in ten days, and started work the following Monday.

At some point in the night, you had started to cry silently, thinking of your life back home. It was nothing like this world here. You had an expensive, tiny apartment in a high-end area, although you spent more time in your office than you did at home, working the hours away until the dull throb behind your eyes became too much to handle.

Until you had come here, it felt like you were simply putting in the elbow grease you had to to survive. But now the thought of working in that environment felt suffocating and meaningless.

You had to leave, but you didn't want to go. Four days here, and you already had more reasons to stay than you did to return.

A throaty hum breaks you out of your thoughts, and you feel Taehyung's grip tighten on you, before it goes lax again. You hold your breath.

"You stayed," he remarks in a gravelly voice, full of wonder, and your heart breaks all over again.

"Taehyung, I- I have to go."

He straightens up suddenly, pulling the blankets back with him, and you wince at the cold air on your naked body. "Why? Do you need to get back to your hotel?" His face falls, and he cards a hand through his hair to settle the bedhead nest it was in. "I was going to make you some breakfast. Can't you stay for a little while?"

You look down, body missing his warmth already by the way goosebumps spring up on your arms and thighs. "It's... It's not about that. I can't do this, Taehyung. I'm sorry."

"Do this?" You bite your lip hard, needing the pain as recompense for the way his eyes run over you morosely. Taehyung runs a hand over his face, pinching his brow. "I don't understand what you mean. If you didn't want to, you should've told me before we..." He breaks off and sighs heavily.

You glance around the room, looking for your clothes that are strewn across the hardwood floor, trying to ignore the defeated slump of his shoulders in your peripheral. "I'm sorry, Taehyung. I had fun, but I don't think-"

"Fun?" he asks incredulously, and you snap your head back to him in shock at his sudden volume. "This was all a bit of fun for you?"

You shake your head. "That's not what I-"

"Forget it," he interrupts bitterly. "Maybe in the city you're used to one night stands and meaningless sex, but you should've known that for me it means a lot more. It meant a lot more."

Your lip trembles, but you remain silent.

He sighs again, resigned. "I think you should leave." Without looking at you, he stands up, collects his clothes, and hovers at the doorway, head turned aside. "Don't bother locking the door on your way out. It's not like a poor man like me has anything worth stealing anyway."

You're left sitting on the bed, feeling, for the first time since you arrived here in Venice, truly alone.

Days pass. He must've found a different spot to dock up. Perhaps he's stopped coming at all. You know this because several times a day, often more times than you can count on one hand, you find yourself back at Saint Mark's Square, wandering around the edge of the canal, looking for him.

You spend a week filled with regret, moping around the streets and canals of Venice in a melancholic haze. Getting in a Vaporetto and staying on until the end of the line only to get one to come all the way back becomes a ritual. You crave being able to zone out and take a break from reality, even if it doesn't last as long as you wish.

For the most part, you avoid your hotel room. You feel sick breathing in the scent of expensive perfumed flowers, hate seeing that battered saxophone case still resting smugly on the desktop.

Foolishly, after a day or two, you miss him so badly that you start to seek out the workshop he took you to, in the hopes that he might be there. However, when you had gone on that gondola ride, you were so moony-eyed over him that you had completely failed to pay attention to where you were going at all, and now you had to hopelessly roam the streets, trying to recognise a doorway, a cafe, anything that would point you in the right direction.

By day four, you begin to get desperate. You'd had enough time to yourself to think things through. You knew you had royally screwed up that conversation with Taehyung. You wished more than anything that you could go back and do it over, but instead you had to focus on the future.

It was becoming more and more apparent, as your heels got blisters and your thighs rubbed themselves raw, that Taehyung wasn't just a crush or a fling. He was right. That night you shared had meant something. At the time, you were scared. You still were. But Taehyung's confession had scared you so much then because you couldn't bear the thought of growing closer to him, of falling for him like he's falling for you and then getting on a plane and leaving him behind.

Now, you were scared because you knew what you had to do.

It began with calling your landlord back home, and your boss at work. You would have to go back home for at least a month to fill out your required resignation notice, and probably a bit more time beyond that to get your finances and belongings in order, but the more details you sorted, the more a blooming flicker of hope lit up inside you.

You even went into an internet cafe on the south side of town, logging into a computer and researching everything; real estate in Venice, visas, attaining residency. Perhaps it was a big change, maybe even one you weren't really thinking through, but every day without seeing Taehyung felt like weight crushing your chest, and you knew that it was too late for you.

You were in love with him.

Still, as your days here drew to a close, and you felt like you had explored all of Venice with no luck, you didn't know what to do. You stop outside a busy main street, sighing in defeat. You had seen this street a million times before. With the limitations of the canals, there were some places you couldn't go without a private water vehicle, and so it seemed you were just wandering in cir-

"Ow, shit, sorry!"

You stumble as a hard force knocks you over, barely getting your feet under you to remain standing. "Ah, it's o.... Jungkook?"

"Do I know you?" He's breathing a little heavily, like he's been running, and he's holding two brown paper bags to his chest. His pout of confusion opens to a little 'o' when his eyes light up. "Uptown girl! I remember you. How are you...oh, not good, right? I heard what happened."

This is your chance. You don't have time for small talk. "Jungkook, I need to speak to him."

He purses his lips to the side, shifting the heavy groceries in his grip. "I don't know... I don't think he wants to see you."

"I know he might be a bit hurt at the moment, but I-"

"No, you don't understand." Jungkook crinkles his brow. "I don't think he wants to see you ever again."

Your heart crumbles in your chest. With wide eyes, you blink at the young boy pleadingly. "I need to explain some things to him. I didn't have time to tell him before, but I... I need him to know. Please, Jungkook."

But the boy just shakes his head mournfully, ducking it to avoid your imploring gaze. "Jin-hyung would never forgive me. I can't betray Taehyung's trust like that. Well... It was nice to see you, for what it's worth. Have a good day."

He pushes past you again, and without thinking, you whirl around and grab onto his shirt sleeve. "Jungkook! Please, if I can't see him, at least pass on a message for me. Tell him I fly back home in two days. If he's willing to forgive me, or even just to speak with me, it needs to be before then. I'll wait at the docks every night until I have to go. And tell him I-" I love him. "...that's all. Just tell him that. Please."

Jungkook shrugs out of your grip, wriggles his shoulder to try and break up the wrinkles in the fabric your fingers created, and nods at you once, before turning tail and scurrying away.

You watch as he reaches the docks towards the end of the main street, and passes the bags down into a gondola, one that looked larger than Taehyung's. In the bed is a man with broad shoulders, one you recognise as the other workshop carpenter, who puts them at his feet. As Jungkook gets in, he speaks solemnly with the elder and points back down the street to where you are.

You swallow hard as Jin looks up at you and narrows his eyebrows. His gaze stays heavy on you until you look down, turning to leave.

He doesn't come Wednesday night. He doesn't come Thursday night.

You stay there each time until almost three in the morning, until your eyes feel so heavy that you can't guarantee you won't fall asleep on the dock. Both nights, your only company is that saxophone case. You bring it, hoping it might act as an apology gift, but instead it serves more as a pillow to prop your head on when you sit cross-legged on the damp wood, watching the natural lull of the water lap at the algae on the posts hour after hour.

Friday morning you pack up your belongings from your hotel room and finalise your plans. If he doesn't show, which you are beginning to believe he won't, you'll go and never come back. Maybe you'll still change jobs, who knows, but you know that you can't bear to be here if it's not by his side.

On your way back out to the docks, the hotelier calls you over in the lobby. She's concerned for you; through her broken English, she questions why you come in so late. You don't have a good reason. She produces a printout of a weather report, trying to explain what some of the terms mean in English, but you can't understand her, and in the end you make an excuse and leave.

Since it's your last day, you want to be sure you won't miss him, and so instead of returning to that small, abandoned dock just after dinner, you order some street food and eat lunch there, just you and the saxophone case.

There aren't many tourists around today. It's balmy out, more humid than normal and perhaps the heavy blanket of clouds above have scared some of them away. You enjoy the quiet, however; you've grown accustomed to the bubble you live in while here, feeling a million miles away from anyone else in the world.

You first notice the rain when you see spots of grey on your white blouse. It doesn't bother you then, although it's not ideal considering this shirt is dry clean only.

By four in the afternoon, it's dark enough to be evening with how thick and low the stormy clouds hang, and you're the only one in Saint Mark's Square. You frown, regret not trying to communicate better with the hotelier, and curl yourself around the black instrument case.

The rain sets in not too long after.

Hot blasts of bucketing rain pellet you, slapping against the old wood dock and stone courtyard noisily, foaming at the once-placid water of the canal. Your hair is sopping wet, you fear that water might be slipping through the cracks of the case, and you're soaked to the skin, but still, you remain.

Thanking your lucky stars it's not windy or cold, you duck your head down and squeeze your eyes shut, legs and arms wrapped around the case to try and protect it with your body. You're so focussed on keeping yourself steady, that you don't notice the water level rising until it starts pooling up around you.

You lift your head up, rainwater pelting down your face and stinging your eyes, and watch in wonder as the canal overflows. Soon enough, you're submerged to the top of your waist, and the water is beginning to spread over the main square.

The water from the canal is cooler, and you begin to shiver. Looking down at the black case, you know there's no way the water hasn't seeped in through the hinges and flooded the instrument, and, after almost eight hours of sitting at the docks, you begin to sob.

It starts out as a frustrated cry, annoyed that your money had essentially gone down the drain, potentially ruining the instrument for all you knew about saxophones. The rain flooded the tears away before you could feel it track down your face, but once the dam broke, you found yourself heaving, weeping noisily and hopelessly, for everything that had gone downhill in the past week or so. For how stupid you had been. For letting yourself fall in love only to lose him.

Although you could barely make out its muted glow from behind a cloud, you could tell when the sun went down by the way the square is plunged into a gloomy darkness. As the canal overspills onto the square, you feel yourself lift off the dock, the water pulling you along, and you know it's time to move further inland.

You stand up with wobbly legs, doing your best to keep a grip on the slippery handle of the case, and hold onto the posts for support as you slosh through the water. Your clothes are heavy and waterlogged, and you wouldn't be surprised if you woke up tomorrow morning with a cold in the middle of summer. "Fuck!" you scream angrily into the stormy heavens, feeling a desperate rage take over. "Give me a chance, Taehyung! Where are you?!"

"What are you doing, Y/n?"

You let out a strangled cry and whirl around. "Taehyung?" He struggles to row against the tide, face tensed up with effort, but you've never been so relieved to see anyone in your life. "You came!"

You splash your way back recklessly to the end of the dock to meet him, and he finally reaches out and latches onto the end post with all his strength, holding the gondola still in the chaos of the storm. He's equally soaked through, and he pushes his dripping hair out of his face as he looks up at you. "Get in," he yells over the crashing of the rain.

Your lip trembles, and you feel the tears spring to your eyes again. "Taehyung, I'm so sorry."

"Get in," he insists, "unless you want to catch your death out here."

Your entry into the gondola isn't nearly as graceful as your others, but the moment you collapse onto the waterlogged sofa, he pushes off from the dock with a grunt and begins the hard trudge back the way he came. You only barely recognise the way back to his house, unable to see much through the thick sheets of pouring rain, but he seems to navigate the way just fine, rowing in staunch silence.

You hold the saxophone case to your chest the whole way back, and when he finally reaches home and moors the gondola, he looks down at you with a frown, before opening his front door, getting in, and shutting it loudly behind him.

You sniffle, shivering slightly, unsure if you're meant to follow, but with the way the boat is filling up with rainwater, there's not really any other option. You stand up shakily, open the door and bundle yourself inside, collapsing on the cold tile of the entryway and kicking the door shut behind you, panting.

The saxophone case clatters to the ground noisily, and he kicks at it lightly. "What's this?" he asks in a gruff voice, ignoring the way water pools at his feet as it drips off of him.

You wipe your face with the back of your hand, though it doesn't do much. "A saxophone," you say through shallow breaths, "for you."

He furrows his brows. "You went out and bought me a saxophone right before you were due to leave the city? Were you that convinced I was going to show up?"

You sigh, bones heavy, feeling the exhaustion of the past few days hit you. "No," you admit. "I bought it after that day in the workshop. When you said you used to play but couldn't afford a new saxophone."

He sighs, turns and makes his way upstairs as he replies. You scramble to your feet and follow him up the stairs. "So you thought I wanted a sugar daddy, huh? Poor old Taehyung." He scoffs bitterly, though his shoulders hang low in hurt. "It'll be ruined now, anyway."

The two of you reach his room, and you avert your eyes awkwardly as he peels off his wet shirt and pants. He leaves to go to the bathroom, and you raise your voice to be heard over the crashing of rain on the roof. "I'm so sorry, Taehyung. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Well, you did," he states plainly, returning with two towels. He throws one at your chest, and begins to dry off his hair with the other. "I wasn't going to come down, you know. In the end, I was just worried that you'd be stupid enough to stay out there during a flood. Guess I was right."

You duck your head, following his lead by stripping out of your wet clothes, leaving on a soaked bra and underwear and wrapping yourself in the bath towel. "Please just let me explain myself," you plead emphatically, "I'm here now. Surely you can give me that much."

He casts his eyes to the ceiling, and you think you catch a glimmer of tears pooling in them. "Fine, go ahead."

You let out a relieved breath you didn't realise you were holding. "Thank you. Listen, that morning... I was scared. I've never been in love before, and here I am, falling for a man who lives in a completely different country. I couldn't help but think how much worse it would be if we spent this past week together, only for me to leave anyway. I thought that it would be better to protect ourselves from that heartbreak. But I was wrong. I knew it the moment you left, but it was too late."

He sits down on the edge of his bed with a tired sigh. "Jungkook said you fly out tomorrow." His voice is flat with resignation, but not as glum as before. "Why are you saying all this if you're still leaving?"

"...because I love you, Taehyung," you admit quietly, and he glances up at you in shock. "And I've realised that I don't want to go back to my old life for good. I... I've made some calls. I have to go back to sort some things out, but... I could come back here. I could move here." You take the chance to step forward, approaching him slowly until you're standing directly in front of him. "I want to. But only if you're with me. If you really can't forgive me, I'll leave and never come back. Just don't think for a second that I don't love you like you love me. I've never felt this way about anyone before."

Taehyung swallows hard, still not looking at you.

You feel your heart sink. "Please say something."

He breathes out slowly, shoulders dropping. "You mean it?" he asks lowly. "You'll come back?"

"Of course I will," you rush out, dropping to your knees so that you can look him in the eyes. Even as his face is pained, his eyes are bright with hope. "I promise you, Kim Taehyung. If I could, I would never leave in the first place. And don't worry, I've looked into renting a place here when I arrive, so you don't have to-"

"No," he croaks out suddenly, "stay. Stay with me." You lift your hand up to cup his cheek, and he turns his face, kissing your palm. "How long will you be gone for?"

"A month and a half, maybe two."

His hand comes up to clutch at yours, holding it against his cheek. When he blinks balefully down at you, a tear spills over and spatters on his bare knee. "I don't want you to leave me again. I know it's selfish, but..."

You knit your brows in sympathy, sitting up to press a kiss on his lips gently, watching the way his eyes flutter shut. "We still have tonight."

He exhales with a shudder and nods. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, and when he opens them again, he’s looking down at you with a vulnerability in his eyes you haven’t seen before. Sensing there are no more words that need to be said, he bends down and joins your lips together again.

You feel your breath hitch at the sudden intensity in his kiss. Last time was all shy and gentle, but now it seems like Taehyung’s fired by raw need. It’s no less meaningful, however; you can still feel how his hands shake slightly as they pull at your upper arms, trying to get you to sit up.

You follow his guidance, lifting yourself off the ground, still joined at the mouth, and he stands with you, fingertips running lightly all over your still-damp skin, attacking your senses.

You pull back briefly, take a couple of shallow breaths, and blink dazedly at him. “I’m getting cold, Taehyung, can we…” You tip your head towards the bed behind him, shivering slightly in your wet underwear and bra.

He agrees with a hum as he reclaims your lips, and all of a sudden you’re yelping into his mouth as he’s using those corded arms of his to lift you up onto him. Instinctively, your arms and legs wrap around him, and he turns around and kicks the covers back with a foot before letting you down onto the bed.

You bounce slightly on the mattress, wincing at the way your slips of fabric immediately make damp patches on the fabric. You pout up at him and he grins down at you, reaching down a finger to playfully snap the fabric of your waistband on your skin. “Should we take these off?” he asks in teasing voice, and you nod quickly, taken aback by his change in demeanour.

“Please, Taehyung,” you beg as you unclip your bra, lifting your hips to help him slide your panties off and away, “I need you.”

Your legs fall open naturally when he runs a flat palm up the inside of your leg, finishing at the top of your thigh. His eyes are darkened with lust, and he bites his lip at the sight of you. “And you’ll get me,” he promises, “but now it’s time for me to cash in.”

You frown, but you realize what he means when he falls to his knees, grabbing your ankles and tugging you down so that your ass is right on the edge of the bed. “Tae,” you gasp, but your hand is already in his hair, fingers brushing his scalp and running through the damp strands.

He leans into your touch, lids lowering in bliss, then snaps himself out of it and looks back down at you. His intense gaze at your most private part would have you shying away from embarrassment were it not for the look of absolute wonder and desire in his eyes. “Every part of you is so perfect,” he praises lowly, and your breath hitches when he brings up a single finger to run down the middle of you, parting your folds.

You feel a sea of goose bumps all over your skin, and you find yourself whispering pleas to him for more. A pleasured sigh is taken from you when he obliges by using two fingers to part your folds, exposing him to you, and he blows a thin stream of cool air over your clit.

Your head falls back against the mattress when you hear him chuckle quietly. “So sensitive,” he murmurs, “are you always this wet when you haven’t even been touched yet?”

Oh God. There’s something so erotic about the hopeless romantic speaking so dirtily to you. “Only because it’s you, Taehyung.”

“Oh?” Your legs jump, tightening against the edge of the bed when he bends down to slurp noisily at you, sucking up some of your slick. Your mouth drops open when he wipes his face clean against the sensitive skin of your thigh. “So this pussy’s all for me?”

“Y-yeah,” you moan, breaths choppy and uneven as he continues to tease you, running a finger lazily up and down, never brushing against your clit or dipping into your hole deeper than a fingertip. “Tae, please, more.”

You shudder and breathe out shakily when he finally lets a finger sink down into you, only stopping when he can go no further. He hums contentedly at your reaction. “Well, I can’t say no when you have such polite manners. Here,” he uses his free hand to cup the back of your leg and hitch it over his shoulder, tugging a little bit so that you’re even closer to his waiting mouth. “Now let me hear you moan for me.”

And with that, he descends on you. Gone are the light touches and teasing brushes. Now, it feels like he’s devouring you, and you’re in heaven.

His tongue is merciless as it sucks, flicks and swipes at your clit, and within moments he’s upgrading from one finger, to two, and soon enough you feel that addictive stretch as three of his calloused fingers thrust into you with the singular intention of ripping an orgasm from your sensitive flesh.

You no longer feel cold; instead, your nerves are on fire, and the feeling only increases as he lets go of your leg to reach up and palm roughly at your breast, rolling the nipple deftly between two fingers.

You shake hopelessly beneath him, fingers curling up to tug and push at his hair, pressing him deeper into you. It’s not until you begin to move against him, chasing more friction, that you feel a strange slight vibration.

You gather the strength needed to lift your head up and look down at him, and almost fall over the edge from the sight alone. Taehyung’s eyes are shut, but you can see the way his lids dance as he rolls them back and his brows knit. You quieten down a bit and can hear him moaning gruffly as he sucks at you, the entire bottom half of his face and the tip of his nose glossy with your wetness.

The thing that finally pitches you over the edge, however, as he crooks his fingers up inside you just right, is the way you can see him rutting up against the side of the bed, back muscles flexing as he desperately seeks out some friction.

Your body curls in on itself with the force of your orgasm, and you arch your back up, grinding against his face to prolong your pleasure. You’re pretty sure you hear him growl against you when you dig your ankles in as your legs tighten over his shoulders, but soon that sound is drowned out by your cries.

He doesn’t stop until you try and wriggle away from his mouth, pushing his head away, and when he pulls back, your legs slip limply from his shoulders and dangle over the side of the bed. You close your eyes for a moment and throw your arm over, catching your breath to the sound of rain hitting the roof. Once you finally feel yourself become coherent again, you sit up tiredly, humming in satisfaction, only to freeze the moment you look at Taehyung.

He’s stripping away his underwear, but before he gets the chance to you see a spreading shiny patch on the already-wet fabric, and your suspicions are confirmed when you look back up to his cock, which has a white sheen to it.

“Did you cum from eating me out?” you ask incredulously. “I thought… I thought you wanted to fuck me.”

Taehyung, still slow and smiley with the dopamine released from his orgasm, laughs breathily. “Of course I’m still going to fuck you. That pussy’s begging for my cock, isn’t it. Look at her.” He presses at your still-sensitive clit, and your legs clamp shut around his hand. He licks his lips, slips his hand back out, and brings his finger to his mouth, sucking on it thoughtfully. “Lie down, angel.”

You shuffle up and turn yourself so that your feet are under the covers and your head rests comfortably on the pillow.

Taehyung looks over you with curious eyes, tugging absentmindedly at his cock, pumping himself a few times to test his sensitivity. Your mouth waters at the fact that he’s already ready to go again, and he’s still as hard as ever. He sighs once, tugs the duvet back so it slips off the bottom of the bed, and pats the side of your hip. “On your stomach,” he commands softly.

Even after such a powerful orgasm, you find yourself growing wetter, excitement rising within you as you obediently roll over, shuffling down a little so that your head rests on your crossed forearms, blinking up at him innocently.

His eyes flutter and his mouth parts as his eyes run over you. You feel the bed dip as he gets on, one knee on either side of yours, and palms at the flesh of your ass. You let yourself relax, eyes closing naturally as he squeezes them, parting the cheeks to see what lies between.

Once his finger dips down, you bring your legs up slightly and part them, so that your ass is presented in the air for him nicely, but he tuts at you and uses a firm hand on the small of your back to push you back down flat. “I want you to feel all of me,” he explains, still massaging the tender flesh of your cheeks. His hand slides between you and the bed to press at your lower stomach. “Right here.”

You arch, yearning for more of his touch. “Taehyung, please, need you inside me already.”

Instead of replying, he just shifts himself, and uses the back of a hand to push your legs apart a little more, still keeping you flat against the mattress. When you feel him lining up against your entrance, you hold your breath in anticipation, only releasing it in a moaned sigh when he begins pressing into you.

The fit isn’t as tough to take as the first time, since he’s fingered you first, but the unique angle has your mouth falling open. You’ve never felt anyone this deep, and it seems like he’s bigger than ever as he just keeps going in further, splitting you apart.

Once he bottoms out, you moan brokenly as he leans forward, pressing a soft kiss on the back of your shoulder. “Does it feel good? Hm?”

You swallow, and although your mouth feels dry, you’ve drooled onto your arm. “So full, Tae, I can’t.”

“Shh, angel, it’s okay, you can take it. We’ll go slow, yeah?” You cry out, feeling yourself trembling as he pulls out and thrusts in again, a fraction quicker and smoother than last time. He checks in again, and you nod jerkily. “That’s my good girl.”

Unlike last time, every single thrust is measured and hits deeper than you’ve ever felt before. You feel incapable of closing your mouth, and moans and drool alike fall out without you even being aware of it. It feels so good, almost more than you can believe, and by the way Taehyung grunts as he holds back, you can tell it feels good for him too.

“Fuck, so good for me,” he praises, “all for me.”

“Just for you, Tae,” you repeat back to him in a breathy whine, “god, I’m close already, how-? Oh, fuck.”

He begins to add a swivel of his hips every time he bottoms out, and when it causes your clit to rub against the rough cotton of his sheets, the added friction has your eyes rolling in the back of your head, coming undone from the pleasure. He pants and moans in your ear, just as loud as you are. “Fuck, you gonna let me cum in you again? Keep it in you the whole plane ride back so you’re reminded that no one back in your country can fuck you this good?”

You whimper helplessly at his words. “Tae, yes, fuck! Come in me, I want it!”

He begins to speed up as he gets close, and every thrust has a garbled moan tumbling out of your mouth, static jolts of pleasure pitching you towards an orgasm that feels like it’ll be more powerful than your first.

You feel a wetness on your neck, and realise it’s him sucking a hickey onto your skin, nipping and lapping at the sensitive flesh once he’s done. “Gonna fuck my baby into you,” he promises in a husky voice, “make you mine forever. You want that? Come back to me with your stomach swollen with my baby?”

Though you should be freaking out like last time he confessed in bed, the thought sends a violent shudder through you and you tip your head to give him more access to your throat, grinding as much as you can against him and the mattress, surrounded by pleasure on both sides. “Ah, I’m gonna cum, Tae, fuck!”

“Cum for me, angel,” he commands, and the two of you cry out simultaneously, going out of your minds as he wraps an arm around your stomach and holds you steady as he fucks into you with the last of his energy. You feel him spill inside you, so much that it trickles out of you even as he stays buried to the hilt inside you.

When he collapses, he tips the two of you onto your sides and wraps a leg around you, spooning you tenderly. You let your head rest against the pillow and try and catch your breath. Taehyung recovers first, and he whispers into the dark. “Please come back to me.”

Though he can’t see it, you close your eyes and smile blissfully. “Always.”

#btssmutclub #taehyung x reader smut #bangtanarmynet #thekimlinenet #bts smut #btswritingcafe #btswriterscollective #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #jungkook #jin #bts x reader #bts fanfic

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kaunis-sielu · 4 years

Text

How do You Solve a Problem like Bucky Barnes: 5

You don’t even see the Ambassador the next morning, which honestly is probably for the best. You go and wake the children and meet them in the dining room for breakfast. Hope is first, she’s dressed in a nice dress, one that will not do at all for what you have planned for the day.

“Good morning. Did you sleep alright?” You ask and she nods reaching for some toast. “Maybe tonight we could continue our conversation from last night? I’d love to know more about this boy.” You say coolly, she still nearly chokes on the piece of toast she’s eating.

The rest of the children come into the dining room one by one and start to fill their plates with food. They’re all dressed too nicely, crisp khaki pants on both boys, Hope and Wanda are both in dresses and Virginia is in a skirt and blouse combination. You’re going to need to take them shopping immediately if this is the most casual clothing they have. You’re suddenly very grateful that The Mother Superior wouldn’t let you donate any of your money to the Abbey until you’d become a nun. Now you’ve got money to buy the children play clothes if they don’t have them.

“So,” you start as you add milk to your cereal, “what would you all like to do today?” When you look up five pairs of eyes are staring at you. “Is everything alright?” You ask and after a few beats Scott speaks up.

“What do you mean by what would we like to do today?”

“We are allowed to leave the house aren’t we?” When they nod slowly you smile, “I was hoping maybe you’d show me around the city.”

“We don’t really go into the city.” Virginia says quietly, her brows furrowed.

“So then we can explore it together.” You tell her cheerfully, “is there anything that you’ve wanted to do and never have?” There’s more silence for a few moments then Hope says,

“There’s a large botanical garden I’ve heard is pretty. It has a hedge maze.”

“That sounds fun. Why don’t we pack a picnic and go there? Maybe we should all change so that you don’t ruin your clothes.”

“This is what we always wear.” Peter tells you looking down at his button up shirt.

“Do you have any clothes that you can get dirty?” They shake their heads and you hum softly, “well then, I guess we’ll be going to get you some play clothes then too.” You tell them before taking a bite of your breakfast. “Hope, could you look up and see where the nearest Marvel’s is?” You ask and she plucks her phone from the table next to her and searched for what you asked. “I didn’t see anything about a car, how do you all get around?”

“There’s a military driver for us.” Virginia chimes in and you nod, “but he usually goes with father.”

“Marvel’s is four miles away.” Hope tells you and you hum softly.

“What about bikes?” You ask scooping some fruit out of the bowl for Wanda.

“We all know how to ride except for Wanda. She’s still got training wheels.”

“That’s alright, we can figure it out.”

“Our mom’s old bike has a trailer thing to pull kids in.” Scott offers, you don’t want to overstep but this seems the best option.

“Would it be alright if I used it?” You ask, it was their mom’s after all but when you get nods from all of the children you’re pleased.

The day consists of riding the bikes into town to the Marvel’s where you attempt to set the children loose to pick out three outfits each you realize what a task you’ve got ahead of you. Both boys come back with almost the exact same outfit they’re wearing, Virginia and Wanda want dresses. Hope at least picks out a tee shirt but also picks out a couple of skirts so your quick shopping trip turns into a more of a half day. You get them all and yourself shorts, long pants, t-shirts, a couple of sweatshirts and tennis shoes then slinging the bags over Hope, Scott and Virginia’s handlebars you head back to the house to get changed and eat lunch there instead. It’s a pretty hot day so you end up in the river, the children all in swimsuits, something you didn’t have yet but would be sure to get, laughing and playing. When Carol calls you for dinner the children all come into the house with smiles and wet hair.

This begins a new pattern, it won’t all be fun and games you take them to the zoo to do some research about animals they find there. Other days you go to the mountains, teaching the children some new games and a song to sing for the Baroness when she comes to meet them with the Ambassador. You go to gardens, museums, farmers markets and parks. The children loosen up, they’re loud and excited and wear clothes that they get to play in and get dirty in. They go to bed tired and happy everyday and you’re more than a little thrilled that you’ve been able to give them a summer to remember.

Today you taught them how to climb trees, a sleek black car passes by while the children laugh and scream up in the branches. You’re fairly certain that their father is home and butterflies flit through your stomach. This could go so badly.

“Miss Grace?” Pepper calls, Virginia had finally given you the go on calling her by her nickname.

“Yea?”

“Can we head back?”

“Home or just to the boat?”

“Home. I’m starting to get hungry.” Both Peter and Wanda also tell you that they’re hungry so you help Wanda down as the older kids climb out of their trees and make you way singing back to the boat. Hope and Scott go to the oars and going with the current guide you back home.

Peter sees him first, and with a cry of “Dad!” He alerts the rest of his siblings that their father is home. The Ambassador is standing at the boat landing with a red haired woman, he looks irritated and you’re sure this is going to be bad. Both Peter and Wanda are on their feet, the boat rocks dangerously but before you can tell them to sit down Pepper and Hope try to steady the boat but they overcorrect and cause the boat to flip dumping you all into the water.

Tag list:

@abschaffer2 @dsakita @dramadreamer14 @thesassmisstress @andahugaroundtheneck @loving-life-my-way @thefridgeismybestie @killcomet @dumblani @silverkitten547 @im-just-another-monster @mywinterwolf @scuzmunkie @biskwitmamaw @geeksareunique @paintballkid711 @lumar014 @also-fangirlinsweden @brilliantbellesoares

#imagine bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes x reader #imagine bucky barnes x reader au #bucky barnes au #sound of music au #a problem like bucky story #hope van dyne #scott lang #peter parker #pepper potts #wanda maximoff #carol danvers #steve rogers #brock rumlow #jasper sitwell #natasha romanoff

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storiesforallfandoms · 4 years

Text

my hero ~ mysterio;marvel

word count: 1998

request?: no

description: an innocent class field trip turns into something a bit more exciting when a man made of water attacks and a new hero is introduced

pairing: quentin beck x female!reader

warnings: age difference between beck and reader (reader is 18 though), not a warning but we’re gonna pretend quentin didn’t turn out to be a bad guy for the sake of this imagine

masterlist

I’ve always wanted to visit Italy. It’s definitely been on the top of my bucketlist of places to go. However, going on a school field trip was definitely not how I wanted to experience Venice, Italy.

Sure, we were allowed to go wandering in the day as long as we didn’t go too far from the hotel, but we had to meet up again to go on mandatory group outings, like the museum outing we had planned at three. If it were up to me, I’d explore Venice all on my own and come back to the hotel night time when I was ready.

Also, I really didn’t like anyone in my class. They were all sort of annoying, with the select few exceptions. One of those exceptions was not Flash Thompson, who of course was somehow everywhere.

I decided to escape the class by getting a canal ride. Sure, they were supposed to be for couples, but I had always dreamed of taking one, and also it would be a good excuse should I conveniently “forget” about the museum.

I was laid back in the boat, watching the town pass me by, when I felt the boat violently rock suddenly. I looked up at the guy rowing my boat. “What was that?”

He shrugged and looked at the water. I sat up to see that there were streaks jetting through the water, as if something was swimming a little too close to the surface. There were many of them, coming from all directions in the water, and they were all headed towards the same spot just ahead of our boat. The water calmed just as suddenly as everything happened. With that assurance, I settled back into my boat.

And then an explosion came from the water, hitting my boat directly and sending myself and the guy rowing into the water.

The shock of the cold water hit me first and for a minute I felt like I couldn’t swim. I managed to resurface in time to see that what had caused the explosion was a giant water monster, which was now reeking havoc on Venice. The monster sent another wave towards me, causing me to go under the water again.

Due to the monster, the water was so uneasy that every time I resurfaced I was shoved under the water again. I was being pushed around every way and eventually I couldn’t even reach the surface. I was sure I was going to drown then and there, and no one would know cause I didn’t tell anyone that I was going out on the boat.

Suddenly, I felt two arms around me and I felt myself hitting the surface. I wiped the water from my eyes and looked down to see that I was flying so far above the ground that everyone was starting to look like little ants running away from the water monster. I screamed and tightened my arms around my savior.

“Don’t worry, I got you,” he told me.

He flew me away from the monster. I nearly cried when we touched solid ground, far away from any water.

“Are you alright?”

I finally got a good look at my savior: he was dressed in gold with a red cape flowing behind him with a dome that hid his face over his head. I had never seen him before, although it felt like new superheroes were coming out of the woodworks every week at this point.

“I’m okay, thank you,” I told him. “Go defeat that water monster, my friends are back there.”

I heard him chuckle before he took off again. I watched him go for a moment, wondering who that man was, before making my way back to the hotel to hide.

~~~~~~

All anyone could talk about was the water monster attack. Everyone was watching the news and reading articles to try and figure out where the monster came from and who the guy that fought it was.

No one noticed me coming back to the hotel in soaking wet clothes after being nearly half an hour walk away. Which I was partly happy about, I didn’t really want to talk about the whole ordeal anyways.

I went up to my room and got a hot shower and changed into my pajama shorts and a tank top. The sun was just barley setting, but I was ready to go to bed and leave Venice in the morning. And all this time, I thought the school trip would ruin Venice for me.

I was brushing my teeth at the sink which, weirdly enough, was by the windows, when I saw something out of the corner of my eye. I nearly spit my toothpaste on the floor when I realized it was my savior from earlier.

I opened the window. “What...how did you find me?”

“Is it totally weird if I say I looked in all the windows till I found your room?” He laughed at my bewildered expression. “I’m joking. I saw you and your friends come to the hotel when I was fighting the Elemental.”

“That doesn’t explain how you found my room.”

“You’re the only one who’s not downstairs looking at the news.”

“Fair point. Here, come in.”

I closed the room door so no one would see him come in. When I turned back around, he was taking his helmet off. Underneath the helmet was a handsome man with a slight beard and the bluest eyes I had ever seen. Suddenly, I felt self conscious about standing there in front of him in shorts and a tank top.

“So, are you visiting everyone you saved today?” I asked. “Cause if you are, you have a long night ahead of you.”

“You were the only one in real danger,” he told me. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

I pulled on a hoodie to try and cover myself even a little. It wasn’t that I didn’t want him looking at me, quite the opposite really. I didn’t mind seeing his blue eyes looking over my partly exposed body. I was just suddenly feeling as though my body wasn’t nice enough to be looked at.

“I’m a bit shaken up,” I admitted. “That’s partly why I’m not downstairs looking at the news, I’d rather not have to live through the experience again and again, especially not since my classmates don’t know the danger that I was in. What was that thing, anyways? And how did you...come out of nowhere to save me and fight it?”

“I can tell you all you want to know,” he told me. “But, I’d like to make it up to you for your ride being cut short.”

I scoffed. “I am not getting back in that water, even if it’s with a superhero.”

He smiled. “You won’t have to worry about that.”

The next thing I knew, I was flying high above Venice with my arms around my savior’s neck and one of his arms securely around my waist. I held him tightly, afraid of falling, but still marvelling at the city below me. Venice so beautiful at night, and from this high up.

I buried my head in his neck, suddenly feeling dizzy and queasy from looking down. I felt him vibrate against me as he chuckled. We landed at the top of the Campanile di San Marco, the tallest building in Venice according to Mr. Harrington.

I looked out over the city. “God, it’s so beautiful. I’ve always wanted to come to Venice.”

“Venice was my dream vacation spot back on my Earth,” he said.

I looked over my shoulder. “Your Earth? You’re not...from this Earth?”

He shook his head. “I’m from an alternate universe, Earth 833. Everything is about the same there except we didn’t have your Avengers, we had our own.”

“Yeah well, we don’t even know if we have our Avengers anymore,” I muttered. “Wait, ‘didn’t’? As in...your Earth...?”

“No longer exists, no. Those monsters, the Elementals, they took over my Earth, too. There was a group of us, we tried to fight them but they grew stronger with every battle. Soon enough...I was the only one left; of my group and of my Earth. The Elementals took over, they destroyed my Earth and found out how to travel to alternate dimensions to other Earths. That’s why they're here.”

I sat down on the edge of the roof with my legs dangling over the edge, a daring move but I felt safe there with him. Especially when he sat down next to me.

“There’s more than one,” I said. “That water monster isn’t the only Elemental?”

“No. There’s five in total, one for each element - Earth, wind, fire, water - and a fusion of all four. When they get powerful enough that’s the Elemental they turn into.”

“The one that will destroy the Earth.”

“Exactly.”

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. I figured after the Avengers had defeated the entity that killed half the planet, and brought those people back, that we wouldn’t have to deal with anymore world threatening situations anymore, at least not for a long time. Who was I kidding? We’d always have those situations.

“I’ve already fought one,” he told me. “They’re weak again from travelling, it’ll be months before they gain the strength to be in that final form, and hopefully I’ll be more powerful or have people more powerful by then to help fight them.”

I shook my head. “I don’t want to think about potential threats right now. I can’t, I’ll freak out again. It’s bad enough that I lost both my parents and a handful of my friends for five years, I can’t think about all that happening again.”

He reached over and put a hand on my thigh. It was a comforting gesture, but it made all the blood rush to my face. His hand was so warm for someone who had been flying for who knows how long, and it sent a chill up my spine. But I wasn’t about to tell him to stop.

“Don’t worry about it, okay? It’ll be fine. I already have two of them fought and subsequently defeated them. There’s only two left, and they won’t even be as powerful fused together as they would be with all four - ”

“What’s your name?”

He was caught off guard by my question. I could see the realization in his face that he hadn’t told me his name yet. “Quentin Beck.”

“Nice to meet you, Quentin Beck. My name’s (Y/N).”

“It’s nice to meet you, too (Y/N).”

I smiled and rested my head against his shoulder. He put his arm around me, pulling me towards him. Our bodies were so close together, and his body felt so inviting.

I lifted my head to look at Quentin. He looked back down at me. God, those blue eyes. I always was a sucker for blue eyes.

Before I could stop myself, I leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. He cupped my face with a hand, deepening the kiss slightly.

Quentin pulled away first, resting his forehead against mine. “You’re starting to get goosebumps, should I bring you back?”

“I should get back in case anyone has come looking for me,” I sighed. “But...will this be the last time I see you?”

Quentin smiled, pulled me back to his lips. I couldn’t help but giggle against his lips. He pulled away again, kissing my nose and earning another giggle. “Just tell me where your headed next and I promise I’ll come fine you.”

“We’re headed to Paris in the morning.”

“Perfect, meet me on the roof of the hotel you’re staying in and I’ll find you. We can go to the top of the Eiffel Tower next.”

A wide smile broke out across my face. I was so speechless with excitement all I could do was nod.

#quinten beck #quinten beck imagine #quinten beck x reader #jake gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal imagine #jake Gyllenhaal x reader #mysterio #mysterio imagine #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #mcu #marvel imagine #mcu imagine #imagine #one shot

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rotomgender-moved · 3 years

Text

Runs in Our Family, Part two

Warnings: Ask To Tag, Injuries

Word Count: 2.3K

Part Two

The first thing N noticed was the sheer noise that we're coming from this group of children. Second, was the child on child violence going on-

Where are their parents? It made them confused and concerned for a moment, did they not have a chaperone? Who would trust children with pokemon on their own?

It was when he saw someone cowering in the corner that he realized, yes, they did have a chaperone. They've just dethroned the poor guy.

"Pl-ease calm yourselves!" The man squawked, "We can't have anyone getting hurt! Especially Wally, the poor boy is sickly enough!" As soon as the man's gaze met N's, he got up and quickly struttsd over with the grace of a swana. "Oh thank Arceus- can you please help out? Entertain them for a bit so I can set up lunch? The triplets and Mallow asked me to distract them, but they're treating me as a joke-"

"I'll help. My name is N."

"Thank you, oh thank you so much! My name is Wallace, I was a gym leader back in Hoenn." Wallace greeted with a relieved sigh. "Just give me a moment, I'm sure you can handle it for a few minutes. I just need to grab a change of clothes so these ones dont get dirtied, they're a bitch to handwash." He chuckled a little, patting N's shoulder and slipping by.

"... language." N muttered quietly.

He felt eyes bearing into him as the room suddenly fell silent, Ruby spoke up.

"This is the guy with the white dragon Nate was talking about! All the cool pokemon that he can talk to!" The boy grinned, throwing his hands up.

"Uhm… Hello-?"

"He looks like a twig." A voice spoke up, one with that accent he couldn't place who paralyzed him. The little brats.

"Yeah… He- He looked like a mess-"

"Okay! Okay that's enough!" As Rosa and Nate approached, tugging Hugh behind them like a ragdoll, N snapped his head to them.

"Why did you tell them about the white dragon?" N hissed, giving the twins and their friend a glare. "You aren't meant to just-"

"Shut up, N, anyways!" Rosa continued. "He's sensitive, so don't touch him or be too loud. Or pull his hair, I got bit for that once."

"He bit you?" A gasp came from a blond girl playing with her tall, blue frog pokemon.

"No, Ex, his Unphezant did. Wh- Why would he bite me?"

"Isn't he that guy that Bede nearly killed in the woods?" Ex said, and a gasp came from one of those kids, as though he had been personally offended. From how he looked, N assumed Bede was one of the kids on the boat in a fight.

"It was not me! It was Gloria and you all know it!" He spat.

"It wasn't me, it was Victor!" Gloria hissed back.

"It was me- stop fighting you aggressive dunces." Victor smacked the back of Gloria's head. "Sorry about that again, Mint-Boy."

N starred in awe at how fast all these kids started antagonizing each other. It was almost impressive how tense the energy in the room is. He looked down to Hugh.

"Is this how it always is?"

"Yeeeaaaah, just about."

"Oh my…" N took in a sharp intake of breath as Wallace returned, immediately sighing in defeat. Wallce had this elegant energy tacked on him that was absolutely torn due to the rowdiness of all the kids.

"Did they give you too much trouble?"

"No, they were distracted tearing each other apart."

"I see, well. How about you show off your pokemon, or battle one of them? I'm sure they'd appreciate the form of stimulation that isn't… Whatever Silver, Gold and Crystal do." He motioned his hand to a group of three. That foulmouthed redhead getting put in a headlock by a brunette boy. Who seemed to be playfully insulting him while a young girl kept score on a piece of paper.

"Yeah… I'll do that." N nodded, stepping towards the group while Wallace went to break up the rough housing between the three mineral-named children. He immediately was met by a small, frail green haired boy, who had a nervous smile and a cheerful wave.

"Hello, sir! I was told you could speak with pokemon. I wanted to ask if you could hear what my pokemon can say?"

"Oh, uh." N wasn't sure what to do, ever since he had left Team Plasma he had never been around so many people. He thought back on Zoroark's words. That talking to people would do him some good. "Yes, I can do that for you and… Whoever else wants me to." He promised, sitting down.

"I'm Wally, it's a pleasure to meet you."

"Call me N."

He met many faces so quickly! Barry, the energetic boy with a Staraptor who seemed to have nearly the exact same spunk. Wally and his elegantly worded Gallade, who worked tirelessly to defend the boy. The endlessly smiling Hop and his gruff, aloof Dubwool, as well as learning that the four accented children are from a place called Galar. Ex and Wy, two twins with teams that seemed to completely mirror one another. The hot headed Silver and his Magnasium, who N believes that Zororak would get along wonderfully with.

Seeing all these trainers and pokemon with such diverse personalities couldn't help but make him smile. Especially the grins that they got being able to know exactly what they're pokemon thought of them. Silver's reaction made him the most joyful, seeing the boy try to hide that toothy little grin and begin to ride on his grass types back, whispering to her and thanking her. It made N's heart swell, so much so that he had to return the favor and do as he promised Ruby.

He released nearly all of his team except one; Zoroark, Vanilluxe, Archen, Unphezant and Klinklang. Leaving the white dragon out of this. Some seemed unimpressed, having seen all of these pokemon before. But quick as a bolt of multicolored lightning, some of them rushed over to examine them.

"What is it?" chimed Crystal, running her fingers through Archens feathers.

"Oh you're really tough-looking!" Barry grinned, Klinklang allowing the blond to feel its many gears.

"This is that Zoroak you were talking about, right?" Sapphire questioned, examining the illusionist's paws.

Question after question was thrown his way, as N chuckled and tried to keep up.

"This is Klinklang, he's an electric-steel type pokemon. This is Archen, a flying-rock type. Be careful, it's shy! Zoroark is a dark type, Vanilluxe is an Ice type, and Unphezant. A flying-normal type." N explained, smiling a little as Zoroark nodded in approval. He began to ramble on about the pokemon, answering any questions and quieting down to listen to any of the kids' connections, stories and such. It seemed to calm down… Almost all of them. Except for one, who he had found left the room at some point… Wallace was gone as well. Maybe he had gone off with one of them for one reason or another? It caused confusion and worry to boil deep down inside his belly as he quickly realized which of the kids was missing.

Where had Sapphire slipped off all the sudden?

/// Sapphire ///

"Wallace, come on!" Sapphire called over her shoulder, dashing through the forest. In front of her ran her Blaziken, slapping away vines and thick brush so that the others behind it wouldn't trip and fall. Above them, the call of a Skarmory alerted them that Steven Stone was keeping up well and various other cries of pokemon meant that the entire group was keeping up.

Sapphire was in the lead as Wallace, Steven, Red, Iris and Cheren kept up. There was a disturbance, they knew that was true. It was something that they could just tell deep inside them, something Sapphire knew all too well. A tight ball in her guts that her pokemon seemed to feel as well.

"Over here!" Cheren called out over his shoulder, the cry of his serperior confirming his claim. "I saw the flash of a pokemon being returned! Tuxedo, short hair from the silhouette I saw!"

"Got it, Skarmory that way!" Steven called from above, leading the group away.

"I'll check over there in case they run!" Sapphire yelled to the group, hearing a grunt of approval from Blue as she ran off with Sceptile. Her running steps crunched the leaves as the leaves thickened above. Blotting out the sky and leaving the light being emitted from glowing flowers, vines and mushrooms.

The deeper she ran, the more the air thickened with the smell of heavy, damp leaf mold and sickly sweet tree sap. The deeper she ran… The more she realized how lost she got herself in the heat of the moment.

Sapphire was lost in an unrecognizable part of the forest, lit merely by glowing plants and fungus and silence broken by the movement of distant pokemon and whistling wind. As she walked, she felt the ground disappear from her feet. Before she knew it, she was tumbling down into a small ditch. Sapphire yelped as she fell, feeling a pain in her arm as she hit the ground.

"Ow- ow." She groaned, slowly getting up as Sceptile slid down to follow its owner. When she got up, her Sceptile put a claw on her shoulder, grunting and looking around in preparation to attack at any moment. That moment came soon then she thought, two pairs of eyes suddenly lighting up the darkness, the movement of something stalking and something else dragging itself.

She backed into the Sceptile out of fear, looking up at the narrow-eyed pokemons threatening glare. As the pokemon revealed themselves, Sceptile growled. A large, fiery maned pokemon with a dark brown pelt beside a tall, haunting pokemon made of wood and leaves. A lion and a tree, slowly stalking towards her. As she shut her eyes and slowly pointed, ready to command an attack, a voice spoke from behind the two pokemon.

"Are you lost, little one?" A smooth and low voice with a kalosant accent, worry panging their voice. As she cracked open her eyes, she was met by a tall and regal man with long, red hair. His face was aged, but only ever so slightly. Maybe in his thirties or forties. "Are you okay?"

"I'm… I ran off trying to find someone that did some bad stuff." Sapphire explained. "Got seperated from my friends."

"Oh my," The man began, approaching a bit and opening a pocket. "You're hurt, let me help you. Show me your arm." The brunette looked, noticing her arm had a bleeding cut. She hadn't even noticed the cut itself when she initially fell, too struck with shock and fear to notice anything but momentary pain. She held out her arm, which the man carefully took in dark-gloved hands. As though he would shatter her in a moment.

"Thank you." She quietly nodded as he began to clean the wound with some disinfectant pads he had in his pocket. Soon following it uo with two or three bandaids.

"No need, petit ami. Is your Sceptile alright? I'm sorry if Treevanant and Pyroar caused you any trouble."

"No! No- they just scared us. Sceptile's okay."

"That's good to hear, a relief." He nodded. "My name is Lysander, I was invited here from Kalos. I missed the main boat so I came on a different one." Lysander explained, taking his hands away.

"Sapphire, Grass Type gym leader in Hoenn." She introduced herself, sticking her injury-free hand out. Which he took and gave a gentle shake."

"Pleasure to male your acquaintance." Lysander nodded. "Allow me to take you to the home of some friends and I, you can rest up for the night and be on your way. It's quite late."

"Is it?" She asked.

"Yes, nearing the faery's hour." He explained, patting Pyroar's back. "Come and sit on him, I'll guide you back. I promise he doesn't bite." Lysander offered, slowly backing away.

Sapphire thought for a moment, this wasn't the first time in her journeys she's accepted such offers, as well as Sceptile being right beside her, she decided her best interest would be to accept.

"Alright! Thank you again."

"No need." He smiled warmly, directing his pokemon to bend at the knees and allow her to climb on. As they began on the path, he clicked the button of a PokeBall to the Treevanant, returning it. "I'd hate to see someone with an injury rot away into something hideous."

Sapphire nodded, stroking Pyroar's mane with a hum. The pokemon was quite warm and each swish of its tail caused embers to float in the air for a moment. Leaving small wisps of light only to die out, the silence broke as Lysander joined in the humming with a tune. His warm smile has turned softer, more relaxed.

"What are you humming?" Sapphire tilted her head.

"Oh? An old song from Kalos." He shrugged, only making her curiosity rise.

"Can you sing it? I wanna hear it." She grinned as he knitted his brows in thought.

"If you wish," He chuckled a little as he cleared his throat. "Forgive if I'm rusty."

"Comme les ténèbres obscurcissent la lumière,

L'or du soleil étouffé par la nuit d'argent

Oh, petit, ne te laisse pas faire confiance

Les sauvages qui font des bonbons avec de la rouille

Ils arpentent les chemins, les forêts de fae,

Et avec la lune ils font ce qu'ils peuvent

La nuit hantée par les fantômes et les Gengar

Ils portent des malédictions de près et de loin

Toutes les personnes de Kanto à Galar

Sachez que les pierres pointues et les roses

Cachez-vous parmi les étoiles."

#rangers writing #runs in our family fanfiction

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iimuchakk · 4 years

Text

Seven seas babies AU - The Journey

Hinahoho’s babies xxx

The five little beans and their father are so excited to go back to Sindria to see Kikiriku and the other’s it’s not even funny

If it wasn’t for all the commotion Hinahoho could of sworn he saw Ahanu smile...

Catori is already getting together her favorite clothes and weapons, whilst Aponi’s already packed

She’s desperate to get a tan

poor babies so pale

Of course Bodaway and Badzill are super duper excited!

People back in Sindria aren't use to their pranks and mischief

they’re pretty sure big bro Ja’far will appreciate the break from work to deal with them

unless he decides the break from work grants him permission to break their necks

wouldn’t be surprising

Turns out, Hinahoho didn’t realize how hard it was going to be keeping himself and five children all together on one ship despite its gigantic size

“Give me back my hair brush Catori!”

“No Aponi this is mine!”

“DADDY!”

Too much drama for the poor Imuchakk man!

The twin boys are no better

Every second he looks away he has a new note attached to his back

At least Ahanu is being calm at least

Actually, where is Ahanu?

“OH MY SOLOMON STOP WRESTLING SHARKS!”

He’s pretty sure if Rurumu was alive they’d be to scared to pull this crap

How long is the journey over seas again?

A few months?

oh great.

how fun.

Meanwhile, Kikiriku just drinks all the alcohol he can get his hands on

Knowing family time is not always fun time

but annoying time

Ja’far’s babies xxx

Rabi has never looked so hyperactive

and that’s bad

because he is usually hyperactive anyways

has only ever met Hinahoho’s family once when they were very young

not including Kikiriku, who he is rather close with

and that’s about it

Ja’far is just as excited but shows it in smaller doses

he’s told Rabi a bit about his old friends

though most of Rabi’s information comes from uncle sin and Drakon, who are less busy then his dad

Ja’far has to actually organize everyone's arrivals and their journeys through letter’s and magic circles, so it’s no surprise he’s tired

“No need to threat dad. I’m sure some magic trick’s will cheer you up!”

They don’t

they really don’t Rabi

So Rabi moves on

Trying to decide what color looks best on him since he’s pretty sure ginger hair is hard to match with

decide’s to go with pink, he feels it brings out his eyes

Sinbad applaud’s him on his extravagant choice

Kikiriku, Spyro and Sadiq don’t want to break his little heart and tell him he looks terrible so they just...smile(?)

Ja’far and wife-co decide an awkward thumbs up is probably best in this situation

At least the other’s arriving are all excepting...

Sinbad’s babies xxx

Does not care

Sadiq has no interest with meeting these people

From the stories he’s been hearing they’re all

tiny, flat chested

over grown

cocky, big headed

spineless, overly religious

boring, emotionless

crazy wizard people!

He already has enough of that with Rabi

boi needs no more of that craziness in his life

Sinbad’s been trying to get him excited

offering him Sharrkan’s guidance as a sword fighting teacher because -

“Your foot work really need’s work. Perhaps when you learn to control yourself better in battle, you can be as good as me~?”

g l a r e

nothing else really changes

goes about his day as usual

mentally curses the fact his dad is more clingy then usual

spends a lot of him time in the garden hiding in the bushes whilst everyone else’s happily awaits the arrival of the others

angrily chews on some near by leaves

Where’s Spyro when you need him?

Drakon’s babies xxx

Is really scared about meeting everyone

His parents speak really fondly of the old generals, and he’s worried his appearance might scare them

Tries to find something nice to wear that hide’s most of him away whilst still looking approachable

Saher laughs at him

points to Drakon

“If they can put up with his face then your looks will be easy to cope with.”

“Jee thanks mom.”

If you couldn’t tell that was sarcastic

Spyro also wants to show of a little

just a little...

and decides to make the training ground look nice and civilized so he can invite someone back to spar with

wants to show everyone he’s strong

since it’s the only quality he really like’s about himself

Is dragged to Rabi’s room to watch the boy practically cat walk his outfits

“Yes Rabi you look beautiful. CanIPleaseLeave?”

Can’t find Sadiq anywhere and is very worried

Until Kikiriku tell’s him he saw him chewing on plants that he’s fine

Spartos babies xxx

Very casual journey

wifu stays at home to keep everything in order

Spartos is practically pining after her as soon as the boat leaves the harbor

Elizabeth and Junior have never been more ashamed of their father’s pathetic display of sniveling affection.

He’s smitten.

“Why is he so insistent about wanting to hold her...?”

“Because Liz, he was a virgin so long before he met her it probably feels weird to know he’s going to have to wait at least a year before any more shenanigans.”

“THATS NOT TRUE I JUST REALLY LOVE YOUR MOTHER “ ;((((

Whole way there is basically cheering up Spartos instead of enjoying the journey to Sindria

Elizabeth will sing for her father from time to time and brings him food, and Spartos appreciates that she tries

Junior’s attempts are less subtle...

Tries to get his dad to do stupid thing’s to get his mind off his mother like:

A: Will dad appreciate rain dancing on a boat? Possibly causing a storm

B: Fishing in shark infested waters?

C: Drowning themselves so they don’t have to deal with his whining?

Junior is very excited to meet the people in his dad’s past life

really wants to spar with someone

oh please say someone wants to spar

Elizabeth is less excited, more curious then anything.

Shes desperate to meet the king of Sindria

Not for him himself, but rather his jewelry

Masrur’s babies xxx

Wives Razol and Rehema decided they don’t want to go

For them it’s basically a holiday

Masrur has the kids with him for a month or two whilst they get to do whatever they like?

See you Masrur

Have fun~

Sadi’s only ever met Ja’far and Sinbad

likes them a lot

would appreciate it if they would arm wrestle with her

how else would she prove shes better?

Very keen to show off

In-fact Masrur want’s her too

Something about showing two people swords and magic suck compared to the fanalis race? Whatever that means.

Angelou kind of just shrugs

He’s a lot like his dad after all

You think meeting some strangers is gonna excite him? Nah

Poor Angelou just wants to rest

Knows it’s basically going to be him baby sitting Ruby

His little sister is defiantly going to be trying to prove herself?

Ever seen a fanalis punch someone in the face?!

Yes?

Ever had a fanalis punch you in the face?!

No?

Stand still!!

Masrur should probably warn the generals about her...

And Dominic. Well Dominic’s just worried

Dosent want to let his father down

He’s in touch with his feminine side

Nervous that the generals will make fun of Masrur for it

Thinking of ways to make himself seem more manly

Sharrkans babies xxx

There is no easy way to put this

Ozymandias is a little brat

On the ship he’s constantly crying

Defiantly not a sea baby

It’s okay though

Sharrkan just loves listening to crying babies when HES TRYING TO SLEEP ITS GREAT HONESTLY HES SO NOT DYING INSIDE

Always checking constantly to make sure Ozymandias isn’t sick

He remembers when his mother grew ill and Ozymandias’ mother

He can’t let that happen

Every time he walks into a room his son throws a toy snake at him

9/10 it hits him in the face

He loves his son really...

In-fact, ever since he’s had Ozymandias he’s been compeltly ignoring women

Actually now that he thinks about it he wasn’t had...you know what in a long time

Has it changed!?

Is he even doing it right!?

Que baby crying

“SOMEONE HELP ME!”

Yamraiha’s babies xxx

Dosent want to travel through a magic circle incase she hurts the baby in her belly

Boat ride it is

Ever been stuck on a month boat ride with a pregnant woman?

LUCKY YOU!

If she’s craving a food that isn’t there, someone is about to have a broken neck

LET HER EAT DAMMIT!

Can’t get comfortable in any position and the rocking of the boat just makes her morning sickness worst

Accidentally threw up on someone’s shoes...

Lays in bed thinking about possible baby names but can’t come up with any she likes so proceeds to cry into her pillow.

Looks fat in everything

The generals are going to think she looks fat

Sharrkan is 100% going to laugh at her being fat

Que power nap

This trip better be worth it...

Pisti’s babies xxx

Tir is ready for take off

Pisti has already decked him out in feathers galore and won’t he stop trying to climb up on every single bird he sees

She can’t help but laugh at him

He’s such a bundle of energy

No trouble at all

“HES GONNA GET HIS EYES PECKED OUT SOMEONE STOP HIM!”

Okay maybe a bit of trouble

But nothing auntie Pisti can’t solve right!

Right?...

Pisti decides to fly over to Sindria because why not? It’s a lot quicker

To stop Tir from falling off she makes a harness that she straps around the chest of the bird so Tir is facing her the whole time

BIG MISTAKE

The whole way there he’s just gargling at her and poking her boobs

Then he cries when he realises how small they are

IF HE DOSENT WATCH HIS ATTITUDE SHE WILL THROW HIM OFF THE BIRD!

Debates if it’s even worth drinking in sindria because Tir is a full time job

Pisti? Not drinking?

She joins in with Tir’s cries

It’s a painful journey with a peacock coloured Tir alright...

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cassnottiel · 4 years

Note

a s7 freddyxdeke au? but also totally ignore this if u dont feel for the ship lol. maybe something like deke and freddy highkey fall for eachother during the first trip, things still end up the same way they did but its a bit more tragic. then deke meets old freddy and he recognizes him asap this time. and he's such a shattered and different person deke's heart is highkey broken by who he's become. maybe some hurt/comf with the whole team of emm. or the team attempting with varying results lol

"Deke, how do you do this?" Daisy smiled at herself, clad in a green very nice dress.

"I've always had great style." He said indignantly. "I still have the leather jacket from the future."

Daisy nodded and fixed her neck line, before offering her arm. "Shall we?"

Deke and Daisy, arm in arm, walked through the party of politicians and jazz music, up to the bar Mack was standing behind.

"Two of your finest Zimas, please." Deke said in his own version of suave. He would have made another joke, but someone caught his eye.

A man his age, standing behind the bar with Mack and Coulson, stocking the liquor. His hair was slicked back, like Dekes, but he wasn't wearing a tuxedo, favoring a regular white shirt with brown suspenders and tie. Deke really wanted that Zima, his mouth had gone dry.

When Mack assigned their stations, Deke made up a reason to walk around the bar area, wanting to look for that man again.

He was back behind the bar when Deke got back, and Daisy and Coulson were gone. He took a seat at the bar.

"Zima doesn't exist." Mack told him, sliding over a glass of clear liquid.

"What's this?" Deke brought the beverage up to his nose and smelled it.

"Water." Mack answered. "Basically Zima."

Deke rolled his eyes and pushed the glass away. "I'll take a martini."

Mack gave a weird look. "You don't even like beer, how would you like vodka?"

"I told you," Deke shrugged, "boot juice."

It was Mack's turn to roll his eyes. "In the normal world, we call it moonshine."

Deke sighed dramatically and slumped against the bar. Mack wasn't going to make the drink.

A glass with a tall stem and an olive was slid across the bar. Deke looked up and met eyes with the other man behind the counter, who winked and smiled.

Deke switched seats so he was sitting in front of the other bartender. "Thank you, how much is this?" He reached into his pocket.

"On the house." The man shook his head. "Because your friends are working." He added as an afterthought.

"What's your name?" Deke asked, then took a drink of the martini.

"Freddy." The bartender answered. "You?"

"D-"

"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Governor Franklin Roosevelt." The band stopped playing and the crowd applauded.

Deke turned and watched a man walk stiffly up to the microphone and started talking.

"He's really here." Mack was smiling slightly, watching the politician up on the stage.

"The governor?" Freddy started cleaning a glass. "What's the big deal?"

Mack kept talking, and Deke didn't listen until he heard the words "way ahead of his time." He whipped his head around and met Macks eyes.

"Or, will be, someday." Mack covered badly. Freddy gave him a weird look, before turning his attention back to Deke.

"So, Freddy, anyway," Deke changed the subject quickly, "how'd you fall into this shifty line of work?"

Freddy shrugged and leaned against the bar. "Well, after my dad kicked the bucket, I was hustling work in the streets. Mr. Koenig offered me some."

Deke nodded solemnly in understanding. "I lost my dad, too." Images of the Lighthouse in over one hundred years flashed through his mind, and he remembered some of the things he did to survive. "You do what you gotta do."

Freddy understood. Maybe not all of it, but he knew Deke and him were thinking along the same lines.

The party went on, FDR hadn't died yet, and conversation fizzled out. Deke drank the water when his martini was gone, stealing glances at Freddy every now and again.

"Deke." Mack nodded to the other side of the room, where Coulson and Daisy were moving. The two men at the bar left Freddy to follow.

The service hallway was empty, except for the four S.H.E.I.L.D agents. FDR wasn't the target.

"The Chronicoms are after someone else, named Freddy." Jemmas voice crackled over the radio

"Freddy?" Dark hair and sharp features flashed to the front of Dekes mind.

The four took off running down the hallways, then they heard a suppressed gunshot. Daisy quaked the robots away and went to finish them off. They rounded the corner and saw a woman bleeding on the ground and Freddy sitting against the wall.

"What is all this?" Freddy asked breathlessly, staring at the three men.

"We're saving your life." Deke answered and held his hand out. "Let's go."

Freddy looked at him for a second, then took his hand and stood up. Deke might have held on for a second longer than needed, but nobody noticed.

"We'll keep him safe. Meet back at Koenigs." Mack said, then followed Deke and Freddy down the hallway to the back exit. Their stolen truck was back there. Mack got in the drivers seat, Deke in the passengers, and Freddy in the back.

"The cops will be on us any minute," Deke turned in his seat to look out the back window.

"Any idea why they're after you, kid?" Mack glanced in the rear view mirror as he drove.

"No, none." Freddy leaned forward. "I-I'm just supposed to make a delivery tonight."

"Well, if they wanted to stop him, we better make sure they don't." Deke looked to Mack.

"Tell us where you need to go." Mack said to Freddy.

A siren flared to life behind them, the cops were chasing them.

"Faster!" Freddy yelled, looking out the back window. "They're gaining on us!"

"This boat won't go any faster!" Mack yelled back.

"We gotta give 'em the slip." Freddy told the other two.

"Yeah, and we gotta lose them, too." Deke suggested. He felt Freddys eyes on him, and the look on his face told him they had said virtually the same thing.

Mack turned off the engine and drifted into an abandoned alley. the three ducked down under the line of sight from the windows. The police car sped off down the street, and the three men sat up in their seats.

Freddy laughed. "So long, Coppers."

"Where do we go now?" Mack asked.

Freddy smiled and clapped them both on the shoulder. "Gotta deliver the goods." Then he opened the door and jumped out of the car.

Mack and Deke made eye contact, then followed. Freddy opened the bed of the truck, revealing their other clothes. "Might wanna get out of those fancy duds, you kinda stick out."

As Mack grabbed his other shirt and jacket, Deke snatched up the radio. "This is Deke." He said into it. "Hello? Is anyone there?" Nobody answered.

"What's that?" Freddy nodded to the device Deke was holding.

"It's like a, uh, telephone." Mack tried to explain. "Deke's an inventor."

"Hello? Is anyone out there? Daisy?" Deke wasn't paying attention to the others. "Jemma? Coulson?" A beat, and still no answer. "These things suck." Deke tossed the walkie down into the truck. "They have, like, zero range."

"It's gotta be plugged into something." Freddy said, like it was the most obvious thing.

"No, I know how they're supposed to work" Deke picked up his clothes. "I can fix it."

"This is the delivery?" Mack picked up a bottle. "More booze? They'd kill you over this?"

"This is the highest grade giggle juice ever made." Freddy took the bottle. "A lot of people would kill to get their paws on the formula."

Mack sighed. "If we're going to protect you, you need to be honest with us."

Then Freddy said something Deke couldn't understand even if he tried, and then they started driving again, to a train yard.

They carried the four cases of alcohol out of the car and set them on the ground.

"Who's the buyer for all this?" Mack asked as Deke looked up at the night sky and fixed his tie.

"Some guy, I dunno." Freddy shrugged.

"What's he look like?" Mack tried.

"No idea." Freddy slipped his hands into his pockets.

"When does he get here?" Deke asked.

Freddy smiled, like he just said something funny. "He doesn't. The meet-up is 500 miles away."

Deke and Mack shared a look. "That's a lot of miles, we don't have time for that."

"Why'd you have us unload this, then?" Mack sounded close to angry.

"So you can take the car and go." Freddy told them. "This is where we go our separate ways, fellas." A train whistle blew in the distance, getting closer. "That's my ride. I appreciate you saving my life," he looked right at Deke as he said that, "I owe you one."

"We're not leaving you." Deke said before he knew what he was doing. Luckily, Mack nodded.

"I don't need no body guard." Freddy shook his head, the train rumbling closer.

"The cops that are after you, they're not the type to give up." Deke said seriously. "They're gonna keep coming until they finish you off."

Freddy stared into Dekes eyes for a long, silent moment. Then he nodded wordlessly, and the three men got on the train.

Freddy was fiddling with the small radio, Mack was sitting on the floor of the box car, and Deke was looking out at the passing scenery.

"You really invented these?" Freddy asked. Deke looked back, met Macks eyes, who nodded, then back to Freddy.

"Yeah, I did." Deke took off his hat and sat next to Freddy. "It's just a prototype."

"And you can talk to someone on it?" Freddy was smiling in disbelief. "It doesn't have to be plugged in?" He met Dekes eyes. "You must be real smart."

Mack sighed, got up, and walked to the other side of the car. "I'm going to get some rest." The look he gave Deke conveyed: don't do anything stupid.

After a few minutes of awkward silence, Freddy spoke.

"Deke." He said the name like it was a foreign word. "That's a funny name. Where're you from?"

"Upstate," Deke said, the answer he gave anyone who asked that same question, "near lake Ontario."

Freddy smiled. "Is that why you don't understand any slang from the city? You've never been?"

"I think the slang is horrible and I'm not even going to try to understand, but I like the accent." Deke laughed.

Freddy nodded. There was another stretch of awkward silence.

"So, uh," Freddy scratched his head, "at the party, you walked in with a real pretty lady."

Deke furrowed his brow in confusion, then realized who he was talking about. "Oh, that's just Daisy. She's a friend."

Freddy laughed quietly. "Just a friend? You mean she's not your girl?"

Deke shook his head with a smile. "No, Daisy isn't anyones girl."

"That's too bad," Freddys smile sent something through Deke, "I would've thought a handsome guy like you would have girls lined up."

Deke flushed and looked away. "You're really smooth, you know that?"

"I should hope so." Freddy leaned forward and offered the Walkie-Talkie. When Deke took it, their hands brushed. Freddy leaned farther forward and placed his hand on Dekes arm.

The next thing Deke knew, a pair of lips were on his. Something that surprised him very much. The kiss short, but it was hot.

Seconds after it started, it stopped. Freddy pulled back, looking slightly sheepish, leaving Deke red and breathless. "Sorry, I shouldn't have-"

Deke grabbed Freddy by his tie and pulled him in again, capturing his lips in his own. They almost fell back, but Freddy braced his hand on the wall of the car, bringing his other hand up to Dekes hair, still stiff from the gel. Deke hummed and opened his mouth into the kiss, screwing his eyes shut.

Freddy got off his chair and climbed into Dekes lap, straddling his hips, never breaking the kiss in the process. He leaned a little too far forward, and Dekes chain fell back. The two fell to the floor in a crash, and they laughed breathlessly as they lay on the uncomfortable wood. Deke was about to lean up for another kiss, when--

"Hey, are you--?" Mack stood up in a hurry, and stopped dead when he saw the two men on the floor. "Deke!" Freddy pushed himself up and away from Deke.

"Whaaaat?" Deke dragged out the word with a sigh and let his head fall to the floor.

"Hey, if you got a problem with--" Freddy stood up and tried to look threatening, but Mack waved him off.

"I don't care, just don't do that while I'm in the room!" Mack ran a hand down his face.

"Do you want us to jump cars?" Deke sat up shook his head, showing off his messily ruffled hair.

Mack looked away from the two. "Either that or stop."

"It's a box car, there aren't doors on the end you can just jump between." Freddy piped up, fixing his tie.

Mack shook his head and gestured vaguely to the opposite end of the car, walking back to where he dropped his coat and hat.

Deke pushed himself off the floor and offered his hand to Freddy, pulling him behind a stack of boxes that were there before they got on. They both sat on the floor, Freddy with his back to the boxes and Mack, and Deke against the wall.

"So," Freddy started awkwardly, "your friend doesn't mind all . . ." he gestured between the two.

Deke shook his head nonchalantly. "No, he's fine." He smiled jokingly. "He just thinks I'm annoying." The rumble of the train and the slight shaking of the cargo drowned out whatever noise Mack was making, so their hushed voices wouldn't reach him. At Freddys unconvinced expression, Deke gave a more serious answer. "Where we grew up, it was different. It was like a different time," he smiled softly at his own joke, "it wasn't exactly New York City."

"Greatest city in the world." Freddy smiled sadly. "My old man took a walk off a tall building after the market crashed. I'm kinda glad he never found out about this."

"I'm sorry." Deke reached out and placed his hand on Freddys knee, trying to be comforting. "My dad, he . . . he left when I was twelve. Died a few years ago."

Freddy placed his hand on top of Dekes and smiled sadly. Something crossed his face, and he shifted himself forward. "When I make this delivery, come with me."

Deke tilted his head slightly. "What?"

"It's not just whiskey." Freddy whispered excitedly. "There's something else, and when I give it to the buyer, I'm going to get back everything my family lost and more. Come with." He kissed Deke quickly. "We can--"

"Mackenzie . . ." The radio crackled to life. ". . . can you . . . information . . ."

Deke and Freddy quickly stood up and ran around the pile of boxes. Freddy stopped short, staring at his open crates of liquor.

". . . Wilfred . . ." Enochs voice fizzled out as Mack picked up the walkie.

"Enoch, I copy, do you hear me?" Mack waited for a response, but none came. Freddy slowly stepped around Deke and toward his shipment. "Enoch, do you copy? Over."

"What the hell was he doing?" Freddy pointed to the alcohol crates and spoke to Deke. He started rifling through them, making sure everything was there while Mack spoke into the radio. "Wanna tell me why you're snooping through my goods?"

Mack lowered the radio with a sigh, stepping closer to Freddy. "I need to know who and what we're dealing with. You may not think there's more to this, but I do."

Freddy turned back to Deke. "So, was that just to distract me?" His face went from suspicious to angry. "Keep me busy while your friend looks through my cargo?" The last few words grew to a yell and Deke shook his head.

"Just let me inspect the bottles." Mack said calmly.

"And get me killed?" Freddy whipped back around. "I deliver open bottles. What's that say about me? That I'm a snoop?"

"You're not curious?" Mack asked.

"Curious'll get you kill faster than trust." Freddy looked back at Deke as he said that.

"Let's just get him there and be done with it." Deke said to Mack. "It's ripples, not waves, right?"

Mack ignored Deke, instead stepping closer to Freddy. "Step aside."

The two stood in a silent challenge for a moment, then Freddy stepped aside.

"Deke, give me a hand." Mack said and picked up a bottle. Deke hesitated, looking back at Freddy, before slowly following the order.

A gun clicked. "Like I said," Freddys voice was quiet, "I can't let you do that."

"Put the gun down." Mack said evenly.

"You need to listen to Deke, here." Freddy gestured to the man in question with the gun. "Just let me do my job, and we can all go home."

There was a long, excruciating moment of silence. Finally, Freddy stepped back and pointed to two boxes. "Both of you, sit down." His voice was shaking, barely noticeable, but it was there.

Slowly, the three men all sat down. Freddy refused to look at Deke. They sat. Time passes. The sun rose over the horizon. All in silence. All with Freddy pointing that gun.

"Why don't you come clean." Freddy said suddenly, the train still rumbling along the tracks. "You ain't bootleggers, and you definitely ain't from around here."

"Okay, you're right." Deke sat up straighter. "We were sent a very, very, very long way to make sure that you don't die."

"Why?" Freddy asked, leaning forward slightly. "'Cause I'm this 'thread'? What does that even mean?"

"It's complicated," Mack looked up from his hands, "but Deke's right. Our job is to protect you. How do you know your buyer?"

"I know her, the lady who sent me to do this." Freddy gripped the revolver tighter. "She knew my father. And she's giving me a chance to be something he never could." He looked at Deke, then, a question in his eyes. A question of, would you still go with me?

Before Deke could do anything to answer, the whistle ripped through the air and the train car shook. Mack leapt forward, tackling Freddy. The gun fell from his hand, and Deke picked it up.

They brought the crates of alcohol out to the pier. As Mack started looking for whatever was hidden inside, someone spoke from the other end of the radio.

"Mack? Deke?" It was Daisy. "Are you there?"

"Hey, it's Deke." He picked it up and answered.

"Finally. We're on our way to you. You guys have to be ready to leave as soon as we arrive. We have no time. Where's Mack?"

"He's with Freddy." Deke walked a little farther away from the pair, but kept his eyes on them. Freddy spared a glance every now and then.

"Freddy is not what he seems. He is very dangerous."

"Freddy?" Deke turned around and watched the water, squinting against the sun. "Nah, he's alright. He's just in a tight spot. We kind of have a lot in common, actually." Thoughts of the previous night made themselves known in his head.

"No, you don't. Trust me." Daisy cut him off quickly. "Do not let him out of your sight."

"Okay, don't worry." Deke said nervously, looking back at the man in question, who was staring back at him. "I-I got him in my sight and my finger on the trigger."

A beat of silence. "You have a gun?"

"Yeah, it's Freddys."

Another beat. "Take the shot."

Dekes eyes widened and he stared down at the radio. "Pardon?"

"That's Wilfred Malick, future head of Hydra." Daisy said. "If you kill him now, you'll save thousands of lives in the future."

Dekes stomach dropped. He stared down at the gun, not listening to Daisy anymore. He set the radio down and approached the others.

"Mack." Deke said seriously. "They're on their way, and we have to leave as soon as possible."

Mack nodded and popped the cork of one of the bottles, and started pouring. "We'll be ready."

"One more thing." Deke looked at Freddy, then back at Mack. "Daisy says this is Wilfred Malick."

Freddy looked between them. Dekes hesitation and Macks shock. "My name, so what?"

"She told me to kill him." Deke couldn't look at Freddy, not even when he heard the sputtering questions.

Mack thought for multiple seconds, paying no mind to the vial of green liquid that falls out of the bottle in his hand. "She did?"

Deke nodded, glancing at Freddy. He was staring in horror back.

"Watch him." Mack said and walked over to where the radio was set down.

Mack started talking into the radio, and Freddy started talking to Deke.

"My guy's here in a few minutes," Freddy sounded desperate, "we can still go, get everything we want in life."

"Freddy," Deke closed his eyes, "I can't leave my team."

"They want to kill me." Freddy stepped forward and gripped the other man's arm.

"They're my family." Deke hissed. "Would you leave your family on a whim?"

Freddy gripped Dekes hand tightly. "Please, Deke."

He sighed. Then his head jerked up when he heard something. A car. A car with multiple police officers in it.

"Get down!" Deke yelled and fired Freddys gun at the Chronicoms before ducking behind the wooden boxes.

By the end of the fight, Freddy was on his way to creating Hydra, Enoch was gone, and the rest of the team was in 1955.

- - -

"Deke, I gave you an order." Daisy said over without looking up from the file she was reading. "Why didn't you follow it?"

"It was murder." He responded plainly, tossing aside his own file and picking a new one up. "You ordered me to murder a guy who hadn't done anything wrong yet."

"It was a tough call, but--"

"I couldn't do it." Deke cut her off. His cheeks seemed to go slightly pink.

Daisy scoffed. "Why not? You never used to shy away from this kind of stuff."

"Daisy, he kissed me." Deke looked at her and tossed the file down. She froze and looked up. He was definitely flustered, and he looked away as soon as she met his eyes.

"You're serious?" Daisy lowered her voice to a whisper. When his face just got more red, she laughed in disbelief. "Oh, God, you're serious. You made out with the father of the guy who sent your grandparents to a different planet."

"Don't mock me, I'm having a personal crisis!" Deke hissed and glanced at the door to the lab.

"Does Mack know?" Daisy leaned forward. If possible, his face got even more flushed. "I'm so sorry." They went back to reading the files in silence. Suddenly, Daisy spoke again; "So . . . if it was still 2019 and you met Freddy Malick, would you go out with him?"

"Daisy!" Deke pinched the bridge of his nose.

"What?" She glanced up from her file. He was glaring at her. "That's not a no."

Deke groaned and tossed his file aside. "This crisis kind of ongoing, so id you can stop making fun of me--"

"Wait, shut up." Daisy picked up his discarded file and stared at the name. "We can talk more about this later."

"What is it?" Deke leaned over to see what he missed.

"Daniel Sousa."

This man turned out to be important, and they needed to help him. So, Yo-Yo and Deke went out to retrieve a device for Coulson and Sousa.

After the only words exchanged through the otherwise silent car ride were the directions read from a map, Yo-Yo tried to start a conversation. "You're quiet." She pointed out.

Deke tried to play it off as not being an experienced driver, but she could tell he was lying.

"In the 30s, you drove fine." She leveled him with a look. "Is it what Daisy asked you to do?"

Deke sighed an closed his eyes for a second. "A little."

Elena waited. And waited. "And?"

"Promise not to laugh." Deke glanced out the window at the houses. "Daisy laughed and now I just feel worse."

"I promise." Elena glanced at the street map again.

Deke blew a long sigh out of his mouth. "In the 30s, Freddy Malick kissed me." He was met with stunned silence.

"Is that why you didn't shoot him?" Elena asked after a minute. Deke shook his head.

"Not the whole reason." He glanced out the windows again. "He was scared, asked me to go with him to start Hydra. I couldn't shoot him."

Elena sighed and studied the map again. "Is that why Mack is acting weird around you? He caught you two?" Deke nodded wordlessly. "Wow. If you need to . . . talk about it, or something, you can talk to me."

"Thanks." Deke smiled slightly. "How close are we?"

"We . . ." she dragged the word out. "We just passed it."

They split up as soon as they entered the house, searching for whatever briefcase they were supposed to get. Elena drew her gun and walked up the staircase, while Deke explored the ground level.

Deke was walking through one of the bathrooms when he heard a floorboard creak on the other side of the wall. A man stepped into view, and Deke started backing away, searching his pockets for a weapon that wasn't there without taking his eyes off the person in front of him. He should have been more worried about the man behind him.

There was a sharp pain on the back of his head, and Dekes world went sideways and dark.

He woke up to someone slapping him, and he gasped and sat up. He had been lying across the back seat of a car.

"Rise and shine, big brain." One of his assailants said. Deke was seeing starts, and not just because it was night.

He was dragged out of the car and into a large house, to a fancy looking study with a man sitting behind a desk. As soon as the door closed, Deke jerked his arm out of the grip of the men who kidnapped him.

"Here's your scientist, boss." One of them said. The man behind the desk was shrouded in darkness, so Deke couldn't make out his face.

He stood up and slowly made his way around the desk. He stared at Deke for several seconds. "Leave us," he said to the two men behind the guest, "I want to speak to him alone."

This man knew who Deke was, but Deke did not know him. The two men left the room, and now Deke was alone with this stranger.

The man reached out his hand to touch Dekes face. Deke took a step back. He wouldn't flinch, no matter how creepy this got. The man seemed slightly hurt.

"Deke." He knew his name. How did this man know his name? "Take a seat."

"I'll stand, if that's alright with you." Deke tried to sound confident, smoothing out his jacket.

"You look exactly the same." The man chuckled. When Deke didn't laugh along, he frowned. "Do you remember me?"

"Can't say I do, no." But Deke was getting a feeling in his gut that he knew the man in front of him.

"That's fine, it's been a long time." The man unbuttoned his blazer. "The name is Wilfred."

"Freddy . . ." It clicked immediately. This was Hydra.

Freddy smiled. He reached out, grabbed Dekes tie, and pulled him in. Deke did not expect to meet Malick again, and he certainly didn't expect resuming whatever they started in that train car.

The kiss was just as it had been twenty years ago (two days for Deke), hot and short. Deke had no idea what to do. He had to get back to the Zypher, back to the team. But Freddy had him by the back of his neck and was biting his bottom lip.

Freddy moved his hand up until his fingers were tangled in Dekes hair and worked to loosen his tie with the other hand. Malick had a beard now, and way more confidence. Deke tried to pull away, but Freddy just gripped his hair tighter and kissed harder.

Deke gasped from the pain on his scalp, and Freddy took that as an invitation to use tongue.

Dekes tie had been fully undone and tossed aside, and the top buttons on his shirt were next. The encounter had become sufficiently uncomfortable, seeing as he was now more than twenty years younger than the other man. Deke needed to get out before this went any further.

Deke brought his hands up to Malicks chest and pushed. "Freddy," he tried to say, "Freddy, stop." Freddy did not stop, but he slowed down. Deke could finally pull his head fully away. "I can't be here."

Malick sighed and bowed his head, catching both Dekes wrists when he tried to pull his hand away. If he felt Deke flinch, he didn't care, because he didn't let go. "So, you're a S.H.I.E.L.D scientist now?"

"Something like that." Deke said stiffly, trying to free his right hand.

"I'm guessing Agent Sousa told you about his suspicions?" Malick squeezed the other mans wrists tighter.

Deke had never met Daniel Sousa, but he had to play along to get out of this alive. "I guess this is it." He blinked and looked around the room. "Hydra?"

Malick hummed and brought Dekes right hand up to his mouth, kissing it softly. "I can make a spot for you. It's not to late." When he got no answer, he continued. "You saved my life twenty-four years ago. I want to repay you."

"Not like this, Freddy." Deke whispered. "How did your life get here?"

Malick finally let of him. "You do what you gotta do."

Deke remembered those words vividly, it felt like he said those words years ago, and not just days. "I can't be a part of this." He said. "My team--"

Malick scoffed and started rummaging around his desk. "The same team that ordered you to kill me?"

"That was just one persons order." Deke knew what he was about to say was completely stupid, but he said it anyway. "Maybe . . . maybe she knew what you would go on to do."

A gun clicked. The revolver looked so much like the one Malick pointed at Mack and Deke on that train. Deke threw his hands out in front of him, he didn't know what for, though. The gesture was useless.

"You're a smart guy. Start making smart decisions." Malicks voice didn't shake, and neither did his hand, not anymore. "I offered you multiple chances to join me. And you turned down every single one."

"Freddy, please," Deke kept his voice as steady as possible, "put that down." Malick pulled back the hammer. "What happened to wanting to repay me?"

Malick thought on that. Slowly, he lowered the gun. "Fine. Get out." Deke let a relieved smile cross his face, before turning to the door to the study and fumbling with the handle. "One thing before you go." Deke froze. "If I ever see you again, I won't be so generous."

Deke nodded slowly and opened the door.

- - -

Back on the Zypher, Deke was sitting in the lab by himself, rubbing his head where he had been hit. He groaned softly when he touched the wrong spot and his head throbbed with pain again.

Soft footsteps made their way into the dimmed lab. "Do you think you have a concussion?"

Deke squinted up at Yo-Yo and shrugged. "Maybe. He hit me pretty hard."

Elena walked over so she was sitting next to him. She placed a hat on his knee. "You left this behind."

Deke smiled slightly and picked it up. "Thanks."

They sat in silence for a minute, then, "You okay?"

Deke nodded and winced again. "Yeah, I think so."

"So, Malick again?" Elena crossed her arms and leaned against the wall.

"Yeah." Deke sighed. "I don't really want to talk about it."

"Your tie is crooked and your hair is messy." She pointed out. "What happened in there?"

"I said I don't want to talk about it." Deke tried to smooth out his hair but flinched. From the pain of the wound or the memory of Malick, he didn't know.

"Deke, did you and him--?"

"I didn't want to!" Deke said suddenly, refusing to look at her. "But he . . . he wouldn't stop."

Elena stared in shock. "He forced himself on you?"

It took a moment, but Deke nodded. "It didn't go that far, but," he sighed, "it was really uncomfortable."

Elena hesitantly brought her hand up and placed it on his. "I'm sorry." She said quietly. "That's messed up."

"At least he let me go." Deke rubbed his eyes. "He said he wouldn't be so generous next time he sees me."

"That's still not okay." Elena frowned. "You're lucky he didn't kill you."

Deke held his right wrist in his left hand, as if protecting himself. "It felt so . . . wrong." He whispered. "He wouldn't let go of me, and he grabbed right where my metric was."

Elena looked down at where hers would have been, but there was no scar. Those arms were long gone. Instead, she wrapped her new arms around Deke, her friend. They hadn't been close before, but she was willing to change that.

"You'll be okay." She told him. "What's that thing Jemma always says?"

Deke huffed out a laugh and returned the hug the best he could in their awkward position. "The steps you take don't have to be big, they just have to take you in the right direction."

#high class writing #deke shaw #elena rodriguez #daisy johnson #alphonso mack mackenzie #freke #agents of shield #asks

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esabri · 4 years

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2-fast-2-curious · 5 years

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‘Cause Good Ones Never Wait

I think he knows His hands around a cold glass Make me wanna know that Body like it's mine

Summary: Because we all know vacation Laurent is the best Laurent

Words: 1355

Warnings: Daddy Kink, smut

Requests:

Hello, hey hi! I just wanted to say THANKS FOR THE LAURENT STUFF omg there is literally nothing on him here and I’m SO DAMN THIRSTY!! Can I request something along the lines of morning sex or sleepy sex??? Thanks love!

OMG PLEASE GIVE ME MORE BROSSOIT!!! Like literally anything lol.

You were lying on your tummy, soft snores coming from your mouth as you snuggled further into the blankets, a slight smile on your face as you dreamed about Laurent. You weren’t quite sure why you bothered sleeping when your reality was even better. You and your boyfriend were on vacation, your home for the week was a beautiful villa on the edge of a cliff, overlooking the Adriatic sea. Last night had exhausted you, you and Laurent had made love outdoors while watching the moonlight dance on the water. The two of you had fallen asleep on the cabana by the pool, your skin still damp. Sometime during the night, Laurent must’ve gone inside and brought blankets and pillows from the living room based on the plushness that surrounded you.

Speaking of Laurent, he was currently sitting on top of the covers giving you kisses on the side of your face, it kind of tickled and you shifted a bit. One of his large hands went to palm your butt and keep you in place.

"Mmm?" You replied slightly groggily.

"Sorry babe, did I wake you?" He asked, pressing himself against you through the blankets. You were both naked from last night and you could feel his erection through the blankets.

You wiggled your butt, grinding yourself against him. “Yeah, but I’ll allow it. What does daddy want?”

Laurent groaned at your pet name for him, pulling the blanket off your bottom, leaving your core fully exposed to the cool morning air. A single digit parted your folds and you could hear his chest hum in appreciation when he felt how wet you were. His digits rubbed you, your wetness audible. “You’re dripping princess, such a good girl, did you make yourself wet thinking about daddy’s cock in your sleep?”

You let out a noise that was a cross between a mew and a moan. You knew if you were going to get what you needed, you had to use your words. “Oh daddy, I got so wet thinking about last night. Thinking about how you ate my pussy last night.”

You signed, thinking back to how Laurent was in the pool while you sat on the edge, your legs spread as his strong tongue massaged your pussy. His strong arms were initially keeping your cunt pressed to his lips but they ended up supporting you and keeping you upright as your body went limp due to his actions. When he was finally finished, you had lost count of how many times you had come. Laurent had to lift you off the pool deck and onto his cock as he carried you to the cabana. Your weak body ended up riding him until he finished inside of you.

Recalling last night only made you wetter, as you felt his fingers stretch your entrance you wondered if he could feel last night’s cum with his fingers. “Looks like you’re ready for daddy’s cock, wouldn’t you say babygirl?”

“Yes, daddy.” You gasped as the rest of the covers are thrown off of you. Laurent’s hands reached down your sides and caressed the sides of your breasts causing you to shiver. He grabbed your thighs and spread them as wide as they would go, giving a swat to both of your jiggling ass cheeks. He kneeled between them, positioning his hard length between your dripping slit. You moaned you felt that familiar stretch that left you gasping for air, he was deep.

If you were at home with neighbours, you might have bit into a pillow to muffle your noises but you didn’t have to worry about this at the villa. His hands were on your hip bones, guiding your silky walls on his cock, drilling into you in a way that found that well-hidden spongy spot inside of your canal. Your bottom half was slightly elevated, due to resting on his thighs and Laurent used that to his advantage, bringing one of his hands to your stomach, near your belly button.

“Do you feel how deep daddy is, princess?” Laurent growled into your ear.

“Oh...oh, so deep.” You replied through the sounds of his hips against your butt.

“I think baby’s gonna cum soon, hmm?” Laurent’s hand left your stomach to travel lower, pushing past your mound to circle your swollen clit. “Do you want daddy to cum with you.”

“Yes, daddy! Please, I want you to cum with me. Fill me with your hot cum.” You felt absolutely euphoric as Laurent continued fucking you into the cabana bed. Your whole body was shaking including your legs but having Laurent’s hips between them kept them spread as he pumped his release into you. Laurent kissed your shoulder blades and across your back as he softened inside you.

Your boyfriend helped you inside and brought you a fresh change of clothes as you cleaned yourself up in the bathroom. Despite the beautiful kitchen you saw on Airbnb, you and Laurent really hadn't made much use of it. Except when he wanted to fuck you on the countertop. Your vacation diet was mostly whatever the small cafe in the village served that day.

You scolded yourself when you felt your panties dampen after seeing Laurent wearing a shirt that showed off his tattoos. You were seriously running low on clean panties. He wrapped his tattooed arm around you as you guys walked down the meandering stone steps to the village. It was partially to be romantic but mostly for safety, the steps were rustic and kind of dangerous but that just added to the charm of being tourists.

Your brunch today was fresh-caught octopus with grilled vegetables and a loaf of bread washed down with some coffee.

"I was thinking we could fish today." Laurent said as he paid the bill.

You and Laurent had rented a boat as part of your vacation for day trips to other nearby islands but you were skeptical. This was the first time you had ever heard him mention anything about fishing in all your years of dating him.

"You mean you could fish." You told him, luckily for you, you had picked up tons of magazines to read during your layover at the airport.

Laurent chuckled. "Yes, I'll fish. We'll be back by late afternoon so we can pick up groceries to go with what we caught."

You were still unconvinced but you and Laurent walked to the marina anyway. "What if you don't catch anything?"

"Then we'll go back to that place we went to the other day with that polenta dish you liked." Laurent helped you into the boat and started the boat.

You watched as the people along the shore got smaller and smaller until the entire island was nothing but a dot on the horizon.

Laurent finally decided that this was the spot and lowered the line into the water. You sat on Laurent lap and read magazines with him. He actually seemed kind of nervous, wasn’t fishing supposed to be relaxing?

Laurent must’ve decided that he needed a new strategy if he was going to catch anything.

"Babe, can you grab me a new hook." He asked, trying to pretend his hand wasn’t tangled up in fish line.

You opened the tackle box and shifted through the hooks, careful not to poke yourself. All of a sudden something sparkly caught your eye, you pulled it out, laying it against your palm.

Laurent picked up the ring from your hand and got down on one knee, the ring looked absolutely doll-sized in his giant hands. "Y/N, will you marry me?"

“Yes, yes, yes!” You pounced on Laurent, the boat rocking slightly from the force.

Laurent slipped the ring onto your finger. It was perfect. Every time a teammate or friend got engaged, he always asked you what you thought of the ring. The ring on your finger was a perfect amalgamation of every one of those discussions. You twisted your hand, admiring how it looked in different light. “I don’t know if I will like calling you daddy or husband better.”

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ancsthctist-archived · 3 years

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//. 失われた記憶 // memories lost // reijiro

Sotenbori didn’t change much in the last two decades, did it? Even during the daytime, there was still an uneasiness about it, one you couldn’t quite touch until the sun drowned in the west and the brightly flashing neon nightlife was made more apparent. Reijiro remembers the first night he was here, on Hanzou’s arm, gawking in foreign wonder at the sights, the sounds, the smells. How quickly he forgot that urban jungles had its dangers--how swift Sotenbori was to remind him that this wasn’t the wonderland it was dressed up to be. Even the waters of the river were dark and murky--pretending to be a perfect spot for a boat ride with a loved one whilst hiding bodies floating just beneath the inky surface.

But Reijiro wasn’t here for the fun of it. Nay, Sotenbori was the last place he wanted to go, and for the reasons he eventually decided to come. With a brief note detailing his trip left for Majima, he booked a hotel for three days prior to taking the long train ride back, wherein he had all but left his body behind in some lucid daydream, only to be woken by the intercom announcing their arrival at the station. Shit. Mind raced to stay on. To take it back to Kamurocho and give the excuse that it wasn’t as important as he thought it was. To pretend to fall asleep, fail to disembark and end up back in Tokyo as a result of human error. Heart jittered in his chest as he stood, grabbed his bag and stepped off the train.

Part of him hoped that whatever awaited him here was harmless and unnoteworthy. His office had been abandoned and was left untouched by the locals. Reijiro had the deed and never thought of selling it off to anyone--no one ever asked, and Ayumi-chan made use of it at least as a form of storage. But now she no longer needed it, having decided to get rid of majority of the things she kept. Money from selling the property wasn’t needed, but there were was one thing he had left there. Abandoned. To rot and whither to dust. One thing that he had feared then and feared now to peruse. But the time has come. With things settling down in Kamurocho, he decided to make his way to this ill begotten place, leaving Ayumi-chan in charge of the clinic during his absence.

The hotel room reminded him of his old apartment. Almost like a box. Gray walls, wooden door and floor. Few appliances and a claustrophobia that kept him awake at night. It was enough to make him wonder if perhaps he should see the sights again to kill time before it was dark enough to visit his old office. Dinner from Osaka King calmed him down somewhat. But then it was back to bored anxiety that seemed to slow time down to an agonizing crawl. The closer that time drew near to make for the old place, however, the harder his heart hammered against his chest.

First night was focused on going through what supplies remained in the old cabinets and drawers, pulling out medical supplies that were still usable and even old books that he had completely forgotten about. Bringing them back to the hotel room and going through them, he tossed what was worthless and packaged the rest in his messenger bag. All in the clinic had been cleaned and thoroughly combed--except his desk. His desk, a nice piece of polished mahogany, only weathered by age and several instances of yakuza shoes kicking it for one reason or another in fits of rage, sat lonely in the front, with all drawers emptied except for one. It wasn’t until the second night that he sat at it in the old leather chair, with his phone in front of him open and with a text readied to send to Majima.

I hate this place.

He thumbs the send button. But never quite puts enough pressure for the message to go through. So rattled and anxious with his hand on the drawer, he could swear that he hears the synapses in his brain sparking and short-circuiting, wires crossing and malfunctioning when he needed them to calm. He opens the drawer. A leather bound notebook is inside. It’s not his. But another’s. He touches it with hesitant fingers, leaving his own body behind as he can’t feel himself pull it out and rest it upon the surface of his desk in front of him. He can smell Hanzou in the leather. Even in the years following his death up until Majima was dragged into this very office, very nearly on the brink of biting the dust, he never once even dared.

But it’s open now. And he hates it. He hates every minute of it and his heart aches and throbs as he reads through the messily scrawled mixes of kanji and hiragana. Some bits are in English for some reason. To practice, perhaps. Reijiro did the same, but transposed. He feels tired as he reads through. Hoping and fearing in equal measure that he finds something earth-shattering. Something that puts the foundation of his perspective in an upheaval. Something that hurts him and makes him feel guilty for growing bitter and angry about their time spent together. Time wasted. But... there’s nothing. Nothing at all what Reijiro had imagined. Hanzou didn’t trick him into coming to Sotenbori. Hanzou didn’t plan to kill him and was stopped by another family member because Reijiro was a civilian.

I don’t love him anymore. But I don’t know how to let him go.

That it was that simple made Reijiro’s heart burn. He didn’t know whether to be angry or cry. Perhaps both. But he’s tired. He’s so tired. He fantasizes picking up the desk and shattering it against the wall, howling out his anger like a beast. But instead, his fury is unleashed in a sharp exhale of breath long held. He closes the book and rests his head in his hands, closing his burning eyes and letting his thoughts drift back to Tokyo. Back to Kamurocho. Back to Majima. Leagues apart from one another, these two Yakuza for whom he felt so much. Perusing the long past thoughts and feelings of one lead him to further understanding just how little he knew him. His stomach turned. He had fallen in love with an idea. And the idea persisted to frost the glass that encompassed reality. Microdreams take him back to the arms of a masked demon. And his body goes lax for a moment, reveling in the warmth. He could swear he smells that all too familiar brand of cigarette smoke and he breathes it in. Brief seconds of pleasantness are broken by the subtle clattering coming from a direction that Reijiro doesn’t recognize.

Head raises and he looks around, grabbing his phone and erasing the message left, hurrying to use it as a flashlight when he hears it again. Going still, he listens. It’s coming from below. A basement? He didn’t recall a basement in his building. The entirety of this slot of land was abandoned, was it not? And why was the noise so loud? Getting up from his chair, he searched throughout the office, before feeling a draft coming from an empty bookcase. He notices scrape lines along the floor, and weathered paint and drywall sticking out from behind it. He moves it, careful not to make a sound as he uncovers a massive hole in the wall that leads to a makeshift stairwell that cuts through the wall of the neighboring building.

He should leave. He should leave now, burn the deed, and never return. But he doesn’t. He eases himself down the staircase, down into a basement he had never known was there. It was cold down below, and dark. He holds an arm close to himself while the other holds up his phone, using it as a makeshift flashlight to illuminate the new space. There’s little beyond boxes and crates, all old and worn, with a chair, a tarp, and an excessive collection of bottles. There’s an unlit candle and a pack of cigarettes. He approaches this area that appears to be a living space, picking up a bottle and looking it over. It’s a cheap brand. Smelling awful of bitter ale. And he’s blinded for a moment, blinded and looking up at the ceiling involuntarily, startled by the sudden shatter of the bottle on the concrete ground beneath him. Mouth covered, he reaches up to grasp at a foreign hand coming in from behind, dropping his phone and sending it skidding across the floor.

A sharp coldness pushes him and there’s hot blood gushing from him. He’s grabbing at the hand over his mouth, which turned to an arm around his neck under his throat, as well as the knife piercing the soft flesh of his side. His sweatshirt grows heavy, wet. The blade rips from him and finds its mark again. He can’t scream, but grabs furiously at the hand holding the knife. His teeth bite through clothing and draw blood from his assailant. It earns him another stab and he kicks at a leg behind him. A shriek and he’s released, falling to the floor with eyes blind and ears deaf, all ringing so loudly, so dark and wild and bright and spinning, everything’s spinning. He reaches for his phone, blood spilling from him and body shaking, but he’s grabbed, spun onto his back. The man on top of him is ragged. Eyes wide and wild. He’s frightened with the realization of what he just did. A hand goes around Reijiro’s throat, the other holding the knife up.

He stops it from piercing his face with one hand, the other desperately clasping the one around his neck. His muscles ache and burn and his bones scream. He can’t feel the pain in his side, only the fierce gale of adrenaline that threatens to blow both of them over an unseen edge. Strength failing, his switchblade finds its way in his hand and he thrusts the steel into the man’s throat, right below the chin. Fear and desperation turn to shock, and the force of the man’s strength was soon to go lax as he coughed and sputtered, blood specking Reijiro’s face. He shoves the man off him, ripping the knife from his neck and pulling himself away. He wouldn’t help. He couldn’t help. His own blood stained his sweatshirt. His pants. A trail of red follows him as he drags himself towards his phone.

Call Majima.

He can’t. He shouldn’t. He probably should. But he won’t.

Text him. He must text him.

No. This was his journey to make. He must do it on his own. He can treat himself. He can stitch himself up.

He’s hurt. He NEEDS help.

He can help himself. This happens all the time in Sotenbori. This is the nature of Sotenbori, so it’s fine. He knew what he was getting into when he booked his trip and hotel. It’s fine. It’s all fine.

When he reaches the top of the steps and his desk, he collapses on the floor. Tears threaten to bleed from him and he whimpers, blood stained hands gripping the wounds. He doesn’t want to be alone, but he didn’t want to involve anyone either. This was his issue. And he needed to see it through himself. He was tired of being saved. Tired of being rescued. But...

A shouting sob escapes him, one hand going over his mouth while the other gripped his bleeding side. Anger wells in him and his eyes are pinched shut, images of Hanzou smiling at him even long after he had written that sentence flashing, and tears finally escape him and he’s crumbled on the floor, shrieking into his palm as his body shakes. The touch of Hanzou’s hand on his shoulder, the press of his forehead against Reijiro’s. The genuine look in his eyes, the deep rumble in his throat and the way the apples of his cheeks perked when he...

It’s the smile that kills him. His body all but doubles as he curls up on the floor, heart gutted and lungs starved of breath. How awful he made him feel, only to bring him back up with that smile, a nuzzle on the cheek and a hug to bring it home. A kiss to the top of his head. He feels like a child. Lost. And alone. And he wants Hanzou to come back. To be alive, so he can leave him. Leave and say goodbye, return to Kamurocho, to Majima, with healing in his heart. But he can’t. It’s gone. It’s all gone. And he’s left there bleeding on the floor, screaming out in his pain, pain that supersedes the punctures in his side. Screams drown to whimpers as energy leaves him, as the anger dies back into familiar sadness. His hand presses hard into his side, and he cries until he can’t anylonger. Until his lungs hurt and his face is sore.

The twilight that pervaded around his clinic is quiet, offering silence to the outpour of grief. He pulls spare twine and sutures from his bag and stitches himself up, biting down on Hanzou’s journal for the lack of pain management. It’s hours before he makes it back to the hotel. He’s the spitting image of the dead, but as predicted, no one was called to check on him as he stumbled through the streets of Sotenbori back to his hotel room, where he makes the bare minimum effort to clean himself up. He takes off his sweatshirt and wraps it tightly around his side, painful and sore as it was. Light blue tanktop and jeans are stained dark in red, but the blood is old enough by the time he reaches the station that it looks like a poor design choice from a distance. Kamurocho is much the same when he arrives, having slept the entire trip back with Hanzou’s journal slipped between the medical books in his bag.

He leaves the door to his home unlocked when he finally gets inside. He feels dead. Exhausted. Absent of everything and nothing, the only thing that seems real to him is the throbbing in his side. He was lucky the attacker hadn’t pierced his vital organs. He would have hated to have to stay in a hospital in Sotenbori of all places, much less let Majima know that he couldn’t leave his sight without getting the shit kicked out of him. But that was the nature of the world they were entrenched in. Violence for violence’s sake, where hurt had no meaning beyond what it was at face value. Hanzou didn’t treat him like shit for any reason beyond the fact that he was just an asshole. And he didn’t die for any reason beyond that he was in the wrong place on the wrong person’s dime. It was all meaningless. It meant nothing in the end.

He would leave a trail of bloodied clothes on the floor of his house as he made his way to his bathroom, filling the tub with warm water and epsom salt with weak, shaking limbs. He leaned against his sink and looked into the vanity. He was far more pale than usual. Eyes red and unfocused, hair disheveled. He was a picture of death. Sotenbori had taken its pound of flesh. But it was over. It was over and he could finally ease himself into the tub, flinching at the brief sting of the salt, and close his eyes. He would text Majima later. And tell him he loves him. And that he hoped he’d never have to return to Sotenbori for as long as he lived.

#YAKUZA // . -- 私の血は私が見るすべてです #blood tw #stabbing tw #violence tw

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ayellowcurtain · 5 years

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can you do a duck where lucas inherits his mother’s bipolar/mental illness and like eliott yann etc start seeing symptoms maybe lucas is having like HIGH highs and everything is amazing and eliot is like 👀 but everyone brushes it off and then a low point comes along and mahon/yann starts suspecting as well ands then it’s like a day of happy and then a jump off boat level episode except sad and dangerous?

can u please write something about how lucas loves being held,kissed and picked up by his mec...bc it’d reduce the global warming, thank you so much

-------------------------------------------------

Eliott thought that he was an expert at knowing if someone has bipolar disorder. His experiences would make him recognize someone or at least symptoms from a mile away, but he was wrong. Or he was too busy with himself to see what was right in front of him.

If someone asked for an honest answer, Eliott would say he actually enjoys his highs way too much so, whenever Lucas was being a little too high he never thought it was a symptom, that was just sort of how Lucas is constantly. Full of energy and wild ideas. And they’re crazy about each other so having sex for hours and hours and hours would never be a problem between them.

He started noticing it when their relationship started to feel like the worst roller coaster he could ever ride and Lucas was right by his side, having his highs and lows.

It became too much and Eliott needed some days away to recover and be alone. He made up a last-minute trip to see his parents and left Lucas behind. It had only been a few hours and he received the first text from Yann.

to Eliott: What’s going on? Where are you?

to Yann: On the train, going to visit my parents for the weekend. Why?

To Eliott: I don’t know...Lucas said you two broke up.

Eliott feels his heart contracting way too much inside his chest. They didn’t break up, obviously, but he can see how Lucas thought that after their conversation. Eliott said he wasn’t feeling ok, Lucas had been crying about anything for the last week and he started again when Eliott told him he was going away for the weekend, without Lucas. They usually go everywhere together so to not invite Lucas was a conscious decision he made and he saw that Lucas was hurt because of it.

His phone locked while he got lost thinking about a crying Lucas that he left behind.

to Yann: We didn’t break up, I just needed to come to my parents alone. If you can, please check on Lucas for me this weekend? I’ll be back on Monday.

To Eliott: ...Ok…

Now he’s worried. Maybe it was a mistake to just leave like that, without an explanation or without properly talking to Lucas about what he’s been worrying about. Eliott hates when people try to give him advice about his mental health when he didn’t ask for it so he couldn’t say to Lucas: you should go see a doctor.

He’s not in his perfect state of mind either, so he just thought it was for the best to step back for a few days. Maybe he was being selfish and his lack of tact to deal with Lucas’ emotions would only make it worse for the other one, but his mind was still deciding to stay selfish when he put his phone on airplane mode until he was back in Paris to deal with Lucas. He would have a few days to think on how to say it to Lucas that he should also look for a treatment.

The time doesn’t pass fast enough, the train seems to be taking double the time to do the same trip back to Paris.

How could you be so fucking dumb? Lucas probably hates you now. And Yann too and all the others. You’ll be lucky if they let you see him.

Eliott knows it won’t work, but he tries calling Lucas, again and again, he hears the voice mail and hangs up without leaving a message. The train finally stops and he’s the first one to get out, holding the shoulder strap of his backpack tighter, running out of the station.

While he’s inside the taxi he checks his phone again, all the unread messages from the weekend that he only replied two hours ago weren’t read yet, but from what he can understand from Manon’s and Yann’s messages, Lucas is probably in the flat, probably surrounded by all his friends.

Lucas hasn’t read his messages yet, but Eliott sends another one anyway.

to Lucas: I love you and I’m sorry. I’m on my way to the flat now.

He’s ready to wait for as long as they let them outside, ringing the bell. They probably expect him to give up at some point if they ignored him, but he needs to see Lucas right now.

He puts his backpack on the floor, looking up, the balcony door is open, the white curtain floating outside with the wind. Eliott finally rings the bell, biting his nails, thinking on what he’ll say the one second he’ll have before whoever picks up the intercom realizes that it’s him outside.

Whoever it is, Eliott doesn’t even let them say hi.

“Hey, hm, it’s Eliott-” He hears the door unlocking and he looks at it. They let them in. He grabs his bag and rushes upstairs before they can change their minds.

The door is already open and Manon is there, holding it for him.

“He was asking for you, so…” She says like she’s reading his mind about why they would let him see Lucas after everything that happened this weekend.

“Thank you…” He passes by her, looking for his boyfriend already. The common areas are empty and weirdly quiet, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing else matters when he finally sees Lucas in the hall, using some comfortable clothes, but he doesn’t look too happy. He’s so different from the Lucas that Eliott left three days ago.

There’s no light in his eyes, he looks at Eliott like he doesn’t feel a thing for him, but he’s there and he was asking for Eliott so he can’t hate him...

Eliott can’t let Lucas hate him or just don’t care about him. He made a mistake and he’ll fix everything for his boyfriend. Lucas stays still as Eliott walks to him, bending down just enough to hug him by the waist, nuzzling against his neck and Lucas finally responds, wrapping his arms around Eliott’s neck, turning his face and burying his nose on his temple.

“Putain, I love you so much, Lucas.” He whispers against the warm skin of his neck and Lucas slowly climbs on him and Eliott holds him tighter, walking to his bedroom.

Yann and Mika are still there and Eliott looks at them just for a second, noticing the death stare from Yann, but they’ll talk later, not now. Mika gently pushes Yann out of the bedroom and Eliott waits for them to be out to lock the door, taking Lucas to his bed, cuddling with him, running his fingers through his hair, saying that he’ll be ok.

Maybe he’s being pretentious, but he knows how much Lucas likes his touch and to be as close to him as he can, so today he just hopes it’ll make Lucas feel just a little bit better, to have him around, holding him tightly.

#skam france #elu fic #eliott demaury #Lucas Lallemant #elu

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bgn846 · 4 years

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Worthy Chapter 1: Bright Idea FFXV A/B/O Promnis

Summary:

Being the thirteenth in line for the throne of Niflheim was bad enough. However, add the complication of being a rare omegan male to the mix and things were downright terrible. Prompto had a small dream to sit on the throne one day if only to prove his worth. He knew he couldn’t do it alone so he decides his best option is to hire a brilliant advisor to guide him to the top.

The issue being the advisor he really wants is already employed by the prince of Lucis, Noctis Lucis Caelum. He also has to get over his innate fear of alphas since as it turns out the advisor is a rather intimidating one.

Will Prompto ever get the chance to rise in his position or will he be stuck at the bottom forever?

Written for the 2019 Promnis Big Bang

This is a re-post of an older work. Wanted to set it free in the world again. :)

CHAPTER ONE:

The sides of the container felt like they were pressing in on him, but Prompto knew that couldn’t be true. Wooden crates don’t suddenly develop the ability to move; his mind was playing tricks on him. The fact that the crate also held a stone statue didn’t help either. What space was available was cramped and lumpy.

Prompto kept telling himself that he only needed to deal with the waves of claustrophobia for another hour tops. The dizzying feeling he was experiencing was nearly unbearable. He knew he was sweating profusely and closing his eyes only seemed to make it worse. Being able to touch all the sides of his makeshift prison at the same time was not comforting.

The ride in the drop ship from Niflheim to Lucis didn’t take more than a couple hours. He knew that he’d been stuck in there for an hour already, according to his phone. Sixty more minutes. He could do this. So long as he didn’t focus on the stale air and lack of light.

Gods he had to stay calm. The last thing he needed was to be prematurely discovered due to his distressed scent. If his irritating step brothers had let him come, then he wouldn’t be in this predicament. Prompto didn’t remember there being a rule anywhere about omegas not being able to do dignitary visits.

Sadly, his step-father was no longer alive, or he would have defended the poor blond. The king of Niflheim had passed peacefully in his sleep two years ago. This left the country to be ruled by his remaining thirteen children, all of whom were alpha’s except for one: Prompto, the rare omegan male.

Since he wasn’t technically related to any of his brothers by blood, it made court life difficult. The king had married his mother after she’d been widowed for many years. Prompto had grown to love his new step-father, but his brothers were another story. They at least treated his mother with respect even after the king’s death.

She had the smarts to stay out of the way of their antics and appear where they needed her for this and that. She was still queen, despite her lack of power, and his mother knew better than to rock the boat. So life had gone on and Prompto had watched as he was pushed further and further out of the picture.

Not that being thirteenth in line meant anything. He realistically knew he’d never make it near the throne, which was why he was currently hiding in a crate bound for Insomnia. Noctis Lucis Caelum, the only son and heir to the throne of Lucis, was a lucky sot. He didn’t have brothers to fight with, and his rise to the throne was guaranteed. Prompto also knew he wasn’t alone in his endeavors. He had a royal advisor.

Ignis Stupeo Scientia of House Scientia. The man was renowned for his mental prowess, among many other traits. Scientia was the reason Prompto had subjected himself to this risky trip. He wished to hire the advisor for his own advancement. Niflheim wasn’t a rich nation, but it at least had enough royal reserves to pay handsomely for someone in Scientia’s position.

Prompto’s issue, though, would be finding Scientia to make his offer without getting caught. Actually, who was he kidding? He had a lot of issues to deal with. A rather long list was growing in his head as he sat in the dark. How would he know when exactly to exit the crate without getting caught? Was finding food and shelter going to be a problem? Why didn’t he pack a freaking bag? Astrals, he was doomed. Maybe he should just stay in the crate and hope they forgot to unload it and went back home.

That wish was not granted. As soon as the ship landed, the crate started moving. It was being unloaded. Trying to control his breathing, Prompto waited until the crate stopped and the voices nearby drifted away. Groping around in the dark, he felt for the gap that indicated the lose panel of wood. Once he located it, he pulled it away and squeezed out.

He’d had enough sense to change before he’d smuggled himself onboard. Nothing stands out more than a blond-haired man wandering around in white princely raiment. It was strange to be wearing civilian clothes, but it was necessary to blend in. Now all he to do was figure out where he was and how to locate Scientia.

Peering out from behind a large shipping container revealed that the city center was not close. Damn, how was he going to get to the citadel? His step brothers that had made the journey were riding in a caravan of fancy cars. Unless he wanted a beating, he would have to stay out of their sight. His presence alone would make them go full alpha at this point.

He’d been strictly forbidden from journeying with them to Insomnia. His eldest step-brother, Alban, had resorted to shouting when Prompto had requested to go with them. He was an omega, and he was not fit to travel with the royal party. The visit was merely to mark the centennial anniversary of the peace treaty signed between the nations. Hence the giving of gifts, such as the statue he’d been stuck traveling with.

A terrible idea flitted through the blond’s mind when he saw the royal’s tall clothing case being loaded on a truck. He needed to hide in their luggage. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be able to get past the gate at the citadel.

Prompto copied moves from a spy movie he’d seen recently and tried his best to covertly run towards the truck before they closed the door. He was nearly there when a group of airport workers appeared. They were coming his way, and they were looking for something.

He watched in horror as the group of men, probably all alphas, began sniffing around. Shit. They were sniffing for him! One issue with emitting scents was you could never smell your own. A distressed omega was easy to smell, and these men were headed straight for him.

He ducked down behind a box and tried his best to calm down. This was spectacularly bad. They would catch him and would not believe his story. He didn’t bring any documentation; he was simply an unclaimed omega. They would probably kidnap him or force themselves on him. That thought made Prompto shudder.

They were close enough now that he could hear them talking. Then suddenly a surge of alpha scent clogged his nostrils. It was pure lust, they weren’t even hiding it.

“I know I smell a fucking omega,” one man piped up with a gruff voice.

“It’s strong. Must have been a stowaway.”

“That’ll mean more fun for us, then.” Another chuckled sadistically. “They’ll have no one to help them.”

Prompto had to bite his hand to keep from whimpering. He most definitely didn’t want to get caught by these thugs. Suddenly, he heard another man yelling farther away. The group of men grunted in response and tried to yell back.

“We can’t help you right now, man. We’re hunting for something.”

The response that came was still too far away to really hear. Whatever they’d been told made them grumble louder, but they started to walk away.

“This sucks. There’s an unclaimed omega out there hiding, and we won’t be able to come back until later to search.”

Okay. That decided it. Prompto absolutely needed to get his butt on the truck heading towards the citadel. Using another silly spy movie move, Prompto threw a rock he’d picked up at a container to make a loud noise. The two men loading the luggage turned and watched for a few minutes. It was just enough time for the prince to scurry on board and hide behind a large suitcase.

The near encounter with the gross alphas had shaken him; he was trembling and had to sit down. Thankfully, the men finished loading a few minutes later, and the door was closed right after. Great. Stuck in another dark cramped space. Sighing heavily, Prompto tried to gather his thoughts.

They might check the truck when they got to the gate; he needed to hide again. The one benefit to technically being in the royal family was that he knew the combo to the luggage lock. Using his phone flashlight, he was able to squish into the tall clothing case. Hopefully he didn’t pass out before they reached the guest quarters.

If they found him stashed in their luggage, he’d most likely get locked back up in the box. That would be extremely unpleasant. His step brothers weren’t exactly known for their kindness towards him.

Unable to stop shaking, Prompto focused on breathing slowly. The space he was currently occupied felt even tighter than the wooden crate. All the clothing was pressing up against his body and triggering his claustrophobia something fierce.

Again waiting for the voices outside to fade, he cautiously exited the luggage case. Prompto all but collapsed on the floor when he felt the rush of fresh air hit his face. Assuming he looked a right mess, he only took a moment to catch his breath and then scrambled to find another hiding spot.

He’d moved just in time. The door to the guest suite swung in, and Alban strode in with his brother Otho. They were having a heated discussion.

“I told you not to let Porcius come. He’s a total bore,” Otho complained. “The Lucians will kick us out if he continues on in this manner.”

“Relax. It will be over soon enough, and then we’ll be home. Captain Drautos and the Marshal know he’s harmless. They’ll escort him away from people, if need be. So enjoy the food for now and the banquet tomorrow night. It’s the one time a year we get to have a taste of all the pretty Lucian girls they invite,” Alban commented.

“Yeah, easy for you to say. They flock to you, since you’re first in line. All those pretty girls want is to be queen.”

Alban laughed. “True, true. . . but you never know. I could actually meet someone worthy one of these visits.”

“I doubt it, Alban. You’re an absolute prick.” Otho snickered.

It sounded like the two had resorted to shoving each other as the conversation died out. The sound of the door opening and closing again indicated they’d left. Peering out from the drapery stack he’d been standing behind revealed an empty room. He still had to get out and into the citadel to find Scientia. Staring at the door to the suite revealed an issue; he had no way of knowing who, if anyone, was in the hallway.

There had to be an access corridor somewhere for the staff. He simply needed to find that. After about twenty minutes and a few pinched fingers, Prompto found another door. This one was expertly hidden in a wall of books. Shoving the secret door open, he stumbled out into a clinically lit concrete hallway. The sound of the door latching and locking behind him caused Prompto to panic. Shit, how was he supposed to get back into the room now?

He had no map and no idea where to go. Opting to slowly wander the endless corridors, Prompto spent the next two hours hopelessly lost. He was tired and thirsty and starting to wish he’d never hatched this hair-brained scheme.

A small creaking sound would catch Prompto’s attention every so often, and he was starting to worry that this mind was playing tricks on him. A moment later, he was being roughly tackled to the hard floor. He wasn’t sure whether to be grateful he wasn’t actually mad or just plain scared to death.

Prompto had been trained to fight, but he had no one to spar with, so his skills were terrible. The person who had attacked him was the total opposite. He even knew how to use magic – wait. That could only mean one thing.

He’d been found by the last person he wanted to see: Noctis Lucis Caelum.

“What are you doing? What’s your mission?” Noctis growled in his ear as he pinned him to the cold ground.

The Lucian prince had a knee in his back to keep him in place, and after a second, Prompto realized he was securing his wrists behind his back. That act alone caused the blond to truly panic. “No, no! Please don’t do that. Don’t hurt me!” he wailed. His fear was taking over.

“Well, tell me who you are, and maybe I’ll be nicer,” the prince retorted.

Prompto couldn’t think straight and lied. “I’m a servant for the Argentum family. Please, I got lost, don’t hurt me!”

“Pffft, like I’m gonna believe that. Come on, buttercup. You’re coming with me until I get you properly I.D’d,” Noctis announced as he briskly pulled Prompto upright and forced him to walk down the hall.

Time blurred in Prompto’s mind, and after what felt like an hour but was probably closer to a few minutes, he was being shoved in a fancy wing chair. Before he was able to register what was happening, Noctis had tied his ankles together as well.

“Sit still and keep quiet. I’m calling for backup.”

Prompto wanted the chair to swallow him whole; this was so, so bad. He pulled at his bonds slightly to test them. Noctis had done a good job. He was stuck. He was aware of the prince on a call with someone. He caught the tail end of the conversation.

“I found him wandering the back private corridors.” He paused as the other person spoke. “I don’t know, Specs. Just come and help me figure it out, please.”

The call ended shortly after, and Prompto was forced to wait. He hoped he wouldn’t pass out. The anxiety alone was going to stop his heart. It wasn’t true, though; his heart was going to explode. He had only to wait on their next visitor to prove it. The door to the room gracefully swung open and in stepped Scientia.

Prompto’s mind was awash with emotion. His rehearsed speech for Scientia was leaking out of his brain as the seconds ticked by. It was being swept away by fear. The blond hadn’t taken into account one major thing: Scientia was an alpha. He’d gotten the wrong information on the advisor. Based off the look Noctis was giving the man, he knew what had happened.

Foolish omega that he was, he’d assumed Noctis was an alpha and Scientia a beta. As he sat trembling in the chair, he saw his mistake clear as day. It was the reverse. Alpha’s were a problem for him - a very big problem. When Noctis had tackled him, he’d been so caught off guard that it didn’t register that Noctis didn’t smell like an alpha.

Most interactions with alphas went terribly for Prompto - so much so that he tried to avoid them all together. Hiding in his quarters and rarely making public appearances helped, but he was on his own right now.

What transpired next was unexpected, as Ignis stood near the door and dumbly looked from Noctis and back to Prompto. “Noct, may I ask why on Eos you have decided to assault the crown prince of Niflheim?”

“Wha – no—I’ve met them all, and he isn’t one of them,” Noct spit out in disbelief.

“I can assure you, Highness, that this is Prince Argentum the thirteenth in line for the throne of Niflheim.”

Noct was speechless as he stared at Prompto. “Nooo, I would have remembered that. He looks nothing like them!” The prince was scrambling, trying to save face. “I do read the briefings you give me. I’m not that bad!”

Ignis turned back to face Prompto. “Highness, do forgive prince Noctis. He can be lacking in manners at times, but I can assure you he means well.” The advisor started walking over to his side of the room.

Prompto yelped and shook his head vehemently. “Stay away from me! Don’t hurt me!”

This stopped Ignis in his tracks as a look of pure confusion bloomed on his pale face. “Highness, you’re safe. I can assure you of that. I won’t hurt you.” He edged a little closer, seeming to test for a reaction. This also allowed the advisor to clearly see Prompto’s feet.

Still reeling from the whole experience, Prompto tried to curl in on himself. He wanted to hide. But in an instant, the mood changed. The air was thick with the smell of an angry alpha.

Ignis’ voice rang out loudly. “Noctis Lucis Caelum, why have you restrained him?! For six sake, I can’t handle this right now! Go fetch me a glass of water. Now!” He growled.

Stealing a glance at the dark-haired prince, the blond could tell that this reaction from Scientia was extremely rare. The prince of Lucis looked like a kicked puppy. His eyes were wide, and he backed away quickly to leave the room. Looking back to Scientia, Prompto was expecting the anger to merely be redirected to him. However, the advisor simply closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The scent in the room changed again, and Prompto could feel himself calming down.

He whined softly, since he didn’t really understand what was going on. When Scientia opened his eyes again, he seemed more relaxed.

“Highness. If I may, I would like to release you.” Scientia stated as he waited for Prompto to agree.

Prompto’s brain was mush. He couldn’t think straight anymore, but he did know he wanted to be untied. He just had to risk letting this alpha touch him. “Promise you won’t hurt me?” he questioned again quietly.

“I promise.” Scientia replied, still waiting for permission to approach.

Nodding slowly, Prompto still couldn’t help but flinch when Ignis began walking over. He closed his eyes and waited. The rope at his feet was loosened first, and he felt a strong but gentle touch squeeze his calf. Daring to crack his eyes open, he was surprised to find Ignis kneeling on the floor beside him.

The very idea of an alpha kneeling before an omega would have made his step brothers cringe. Yet, here was one doing just that. Prompto allowed Ignis to coax him forward in the chair so he could reach his hands.

“Are you injured in any way? I can secure a potion for you, if necessary,” the alpha asked from where he was still crouched on the floor.

Shaking his head, Prompto leaned back in the chair and rubbed his wrists. Noctis finally came back into the room with a glass of water. He stalled out a few steps from them as if waiting for permission.

Ignis sighed and motioned him over. “I’m not cross with you, Noct. It’s merely a diplomacy nightmare when you accidentally attack a visiting prince.”

“No one knows I’m here,” Prompto offered right away. “I wasn’t supposed to come on this trip.”

The prince of lucis made an odd grunting noise and looked at Ignis with a ‘I told you so’ expression.

Ignis rolled his eyes and pointed at the glass of water. “I do believe our guest might be thirsty.”

Once Prompto had secured the glass with both hands, he nearly gulped its whole contents down. Then, in a flash, his insecurities came flooding back. What if they were drugging him? He must have looked distressed, or maybe he’d started emitting a scent, because in an instant the advisor was in his line of sight with a concerned look.

Oddly enough, it was Prince Noctis who figured out the issue. His solution was to snatch the glass back and take a sip. “It’s not been tampered with. It’s just water.” He finished, then set the glass down on the coffee table. “I’m sorry I tackled you. I really didn’t recognize you.”

Unable to respond due to his nerves, Prompto focused on breathing. The calm feeling from earlier was still permeating his senses and helping. Unfortunately, his journey was over almost before it had begun. Now that he’d been caught, there was no choice but to face his step-brothers’ wrath and hope the punishment wasn’t too severe. Scientia being an alpha had wrecked his plan. Prompto wasn’t sure he could handle working with one.

“So I suppose I’ll have to fess up for delaying you, huh?” The prince pondered from where he leaned against the sofa arm.

“Um – you don’t have to say anything. I can go back to the room by myself.” Prompto hoped they might let him walk out of there without issue.

“What if you get lost again? I can’t let that happen. Now that I know who you are, I really need to make sure you stay in good hands,” Prince Noctis announced.

“Highness, may I inquire as to how you arrived here?” Scientia asked, looking at Prompto.

The blond tried his best to not look at the floor when he answered, but it was so hard with Scientia’s green eyes staring right at him. “I snuck aboard the drop ship in the cargo area.”

Noct leaned forward at the comment and looked slightly shocked. “I thought when you said that no one knew you were here, you only meant you came on a different ship. Not that you stowed away!”

Shaking his head, Prompto lost the battle to continue looking at the advisor. He averted his eyes, focusing on the floor instead. Scientia hadn’t moved from his position. Prompto didn’t know why, but it was comforting to not be talked down to.

Ignis seemed lost in thought and eventually repositioned himself to sit on the coffee table. “Might it be more prudent for you to remain hidden while you’re here? I’m sure we can arrange a covert transport to take you back home.”

Hardly able to believe what he was hearing, Prompto nearly fell out of his chair. “You mean it?” he asked, wide-eyed.

“Why would that make a difference? His family is here - wouldn’t that be a better way to get home?” Prince Noctis asked, perplexed.

Scientia pursed his lips and looked up at the prince. “I trust that you have at least been able to deduce that Prince Argentum is an omega, correct?”

“Well, yeah, of course, wha --.”

“Then you should also be aware that the royal family of Niflheim is headed mostly by alphas. Who happen to have a rather dated opinion of omegas. Which is rather upsetting considering that one of their own is of that dynamic.”

The Lucian prince addressed Prompto directly for his next bevy of questions. “So you would prefer that none of your brothers know you’re here?”

“Step-brothers,” Prompto corrected.

“Sorry, but won’t someone notice you’re missing back home if you are gone for more than a day?”

“Not really. I mostly stay in my room,” the blond mumbled.

“The queen perhaps? Might you like to get a message to her?” Scientia asked kindly.

Prompto sighed. “My mum already knows. I knew she’d come looking for me, so I told her my plan.”

“Yeah, that was my next question. What on Eos would you come here for?” Noct blurted.

The truth was easy to say, but Prompto knew he would be laughed at if he admitted his real reason for coming, so he lied again. “Uh, I just really wanted to see the capital city. I’ve never been.”

Prince Noctis scowled at the response. “That sounds a little lame to me, but I guess everyone has their own dreams.”

“Noctis!” Scientia exclaimed. “Why are you being so crass today? What has gotten into you?”

The prince of Lucis rolled his eyes and looked away. Clearly he’d been around Ignis for a long time to treat him that way and not get reprimanded.

The advisor frowned and made to stand up. “I will work on securing transport for you to return home. Would you be alright staying here with Noctis for now?”

Prompto thought for a second and was working through his fears. Noctis didn’t seem that bad. He was a beta and had the chill demeanor of one to match. If the prince didn’t mind him staying, then he did feel safe there. “I would like to stay, if it’s alright.” he responded meekly.

Scientia looked to the dark-haired prince and waited for an answer. Prince Noctis shrugged noncommittally. “I thought all visitors to my suite had to go through a background check first.” It appeared to Prompto that the lucian prince was trying to point out a mistake to Scientia.

The royal advisor raised an eyebrow and turned to Noctis. “What makes you think I have not done this already? Prince Prompto was on the list of possible guests so he has already undergone the background check.”

“Oh.” Noctis mumbled, “I don’t mind if he stays then. It will be nice to have someone else around.” He finished.

“Very well, then. I will return once I have more information. Noct, I believe you may need to order dinner soon. I have a feeling our fair-haired friend here may be getting hungry.”

As if on cue, Prompto’s stomach growled loudly, and he could feel his face flushing. “So you won’t tell my step-brothers I’m here?” he confirmed again, still slightly scared of what would happen if they found out.

“Your safety is important. I will endeavor to keep your presence hidden while you are visiting, Highness.” Ignis offered with a small bow. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must get back to work.”

As quickly as the man had breezed into his life, he waltzed back out. Scientia was gone, and Prompto wasn’t sure he’d see him again. He was a coward for not saying anything about his real reason for coming. Maybe he saw the bond that already existed between Noct and his advisor. They were close, and he knew Scientia wouldn’t leave his position. No money on Eos would convince him otherwise. That much was obvious.

Noct’s waving hand suddenly appeared in his vision. “Hey, you okay there? Um – do you want to play some video games while we wait for dinner?”

“Huh? Sorry, uh – yeah, sure, that sounds like fun.”

“Don’t tell Iggy I had to ask, but what is your first name?”

“Who’s Igg—y?” Prompto tried out the name on his lips.

“Ignis, my advisor. The tall dude who invoked the power of the gods on my ass earlier when he asked for water.”

“Oh. My name is Prompto.”

Prince Noctis sighed and seemed to relax a little. “That’s a good name. You can call me Noct, by the way. All my friends do.”

Prompto was slightly stunned by that admission as he followed Noct into another room and watched the prince get his game system ready. Maybe he was wrong to assume he wouldn’t get along with the other prince. Getting comfy on the couch, he accepted a gaming controller and proceeded to tune out the real world.

For the first time he actually felt at ease. Maybe he would survive his adventure yet.

> Next Chapter 2

#ffxv #promnis #fanfic #prompto #ignis

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