#maybe i could ask to be right near the entrance of the gallery so it would be more like someone picking up a dreamer at the start and putti

[dogsplayingpoker]

ok at my school graduating seniors all have to submit a piece to the show for graduating seniors and i think for mine i want to make like. several little beds with little Dreamers in them and the idea is that a viewer is encouraged to take a Dreamer from their bed and show them around the show, show them the other pieces and then tuck them back in........but i wonder if people would actually want to do that and how to necessarily make that Look Good enough that it's still a Good Art Piece for people who don't interact with it (or hypothetically Can't in a scenario where every single Dreamer was being shown around). Does anyone. have opinions about this would you like to show a little puppet or stuffed animal around an art gallery

[gghostwriter]

Lips of a Gentleman

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Part 1 || Future take Summary: A spontaneous museum date alters your relationship with Spencer for the better Trope: Fluff! Just fluff! w.c: 1.2k a/n: This is actually an anon request about going on a museum date with Spencer and interrupting his ramblings with a kiss and I couldn’t help myself so I connected this to ‘Wanted: A Gentleman.’ I also used my favorite painter here as a prop to yap so I hope you like it! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! masterlist

It was a Saturday afternoon when the BAU team closed a serial killer case in the state of New York. They were called in four nights ago and the stress mixed with a high dose of adrenaline that had run through their veins were on it’s way out of their system, leaving all the members dead to their feet and wishing for much needed rest over the remaining weekend.

“Hotch,” Reid captured his unit chief’s attention as they waited for the remaining members, Morgan and Rossi, to come down from their respective hotel rooms. “I’d like to stay behind, if that’s alright.”

There was a minuscule eyebrow raise from Hotch in question.

“Huh,” Emily mused, a teasing smile appearing on her face. “Funny, there’s also a certain someone that we know—” she gestured to herself and JJ. “—who’s in New York today. Isn’t that right, JJ?”

The blonde profiler let out a laugh. “Yeah, I wonder if that has something to do with Spence staying behind.”

“Well, does it?” Emily lightly elbowed him in jest.

Spencer clears his throat, trying his best to come off casual but utterly failing with his voice going up an octave. “Maybe.”

“It’s the weekend, take your day off,” Hotch conceded. “And Reid, congratulations.”

“For what?”

A tenor voice answered behind him. Morgan, it was Morgan. “For finally getting a girlfriend.”

“Good on you, kid,” Rossi added on, patting his back as he made his way through.

———

Locks of hair were escaping your loosely tied bun as you brisk walked to get to the steps of the MET museum. The emergency meeting with suppliers ran a little later than you anticipated making you already fifteen minutes late from your agreed meet up with Spencer.

A smile graced your face as your thoughts settled on the perfect gentleman. It had been a perfect match made by your three friends, Emily, Penelope, and JJ.

A blind date that had gone so great that it blossomed another date and another. This spontaneous one marked as the fifth and it brought to mind the first meeting at the steps of the Smithsonian and Spencer’s chivalrous move of tying your loose shoe lace.

“I’m so sorry for being late,” your voice reaching Spencer’s ears before he spots you adjusting the straps of your falling shoulder bag approaching his form. “The supplier didn’t come on time so I—I’m sorry.”

He rocked on his heels, hands wrapped around his satchel strap. “That’s alright, I just arrived myself.”

You knew it was a lie but appreciated his effort in trying to make you feel better. That was just one of the many things you could see yourself falling for in Spencer. As if you weren’t already halfway there.

“Shall we?” His lips forming a smile, no doubt remembering those were the exact words he said during the first date.

You giggled, echoing the same response. “We shall.”

“So is there a specific section you want to visit first?” Spencer asked as he flashed two admission tickets at the entrance.

“Hm,” you scooted closer to his svelte protective form, avoiding the onslaught of tourists groups excitedly entering. “The gallery of European paintings?”

He smiled and nodded. His left hand hovering near the small of your back, never touching—its’ warmth penetrating the thick layers of your coat and sweater while the gesture made your heart flutter fast like the hummingbird’s wings.

There was comfortable silence in between you. Inconspicuous side glances and shy smiles that say a thousand more words that seemingly can’t or won’t be spoken out loud. The tranquility was a sharp contrast to the bustling and echoing noise all around the museum as guests discuss with their partners the surrounding art and take photos as personal mementos.

Your feet came to a stop in front of your favorite artist’s work. “I always did prefer his work more than Van Gogh.”

Spencer smiled, gaze warm on your side profile as his eyes traced the escaped locks of hair that framed the modern art standing beside him which was you and your expressive face. His fingers, as if hypnotized, reached out to tuck one side that casted a shadow on your feature behind your pinking ear. “Actually, when you look at Klimt’s early landscape paintings, you could see he took inspiration from the Dutch painter.”

“Really?” Your body twisting to face him.

He studied your body language. Arms limp at the sides, open and trusting. Torso slightly leaning forward, attention fully captivated. And eyes wide, twinkling with curiosity. “Yeah, yeah—” he nodded, his own body mimicking yours and its unsaid language. “—and although Klimt’s colors are stronger in contrast, the impact from having viewed Van Gogh’s paintings in his earlier life can be spotted in his brush strokes and painting subjects.”

“Spence, I hope you don’t take this the wrong way but you don’t strike me as an art critic. Is it a side of you that I’m only finding about now?” You teased.

“No,” he laughed, tucking his hands at the front of his jeans to fight the urge to touch you once more. “I read about it.”

“Can you tell me more then?” you further leaned in and whispered. “I bet you’d do a slightly better job than their pre-recorded audio tours.”

Spencer threw his head back and let a few chuckles echo on the walls. Your mind and its clever wit had impressed him since the first date. It was one of the many things he could see falling for in you. That was a half lie. In full truth, it was one of the many things that made him fall for you.

“Well, Klimt’s most expensive painting was previously stolen by the Nazis during WWII when they occupied Austria. Austrian Museum housed it after the war but there was a court battle for it and they had to return it the the family owner. And in 2006, Oprah actually bought it—” your smooth hands cupped his face, bringing his ramblings into a stuttering halt. His heartbeat, nestled within his ribcage, threatening to break from its confines as you stood on your tip toes, leaving a series of small kisses at ends of his mouth before landing on his awaiting lips.

“I—I’m so sorry,” eyes wide as you leaned back from his reach. A move that didn’t widen the gap as his body hunched itself forward, following you in its wake. “I couldn’t resist.”

He answered with a longer kiss, fingers twining with your silky locks of hair that had fascinated him since a while ago. “Don’t be. I’ve been wanting to do that too, I just didn’t know if you’d welcome it.”

You exhaled a giggle, cheeks pink with happiness. “You definitely can, anytime.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” his smile mirrored the euphoria written on your face. If he were to try to describe this very emotion, he’d compare it to walking on cloud nine. To winning a lottery. Or perhaps to finding an invaluable art piece meant just for him.

And while the surroundings were still dull and mundane, there were a burst of colors that splashed Spencer’s world anew as his warm comforting hand now finally found its way to yours and his thumb invisibly painting abstract at the back of your palm.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[starlightmoon96]

Yandere Optimus Prime/Yandere Megatron x OC character chapter 2

"At the art collage Sabina was doing some catching up on paper assignments she missed in her lectures in the university's library, there was about ten papers and she was on the sixth paper. She hated it and wanted to stop but she couldn't she had to get going with her sculpture for the collage exhibits coming and a few other pieces she had to do several paintings for three galleries from three different people, she had a lot of her plate. After she was done with all her paper work that two almost two hours and turning them into her professors he decided to rest a little in the collage's infirmary, she often went there under stress the collage's male doctor understood her and allowed her to relax in his office as much as she wanted. Sometimes Sabina would ask the doctor to message her shoulders to help relieve stress from her and it helped, she didn't mind asked cause he played for the same team so she knows that he won't do anything. Sabina was laying on her stomach on the nurses bed and her hands under her left cheek her, the drapes where closed so around her so she had privacy. Sabina heard the entrance door open and thought it was the doctor, since her eyes where closed she did see we drabs being open then she started talking.

"You've got good timing Doctor Price, I could really use a shoulder message I had a lot of catch up papers to do today." Sabina didn't hear a verbal answer from him she felt the foot of the nurse bed being shifted, then she left a two strong gently hands placed on both sides of her shoulder. Sabina could tell he was hovering her lower back to get in that possession which was odd.

"This is new, maybe Doctor Price wanted to try something a little new?" She thought that as feeling both hands carefully kneading her shoulders and upper back, the last thing Sabina felt before dozing off where a pair of lips pressed agonized the right side of her back neck. By the time Sabina's timer on her phone went off she woke up on her back Doctor Price came in his office, Sabina opened the drapes while she yawned.

"Oh Sabina I heard from Professor Thomas that you were back?" Hearing that made her confused and she asked him

"Hm weren't you here eleven minutes ago?" Now hearing Sabina say that got him confused and a little concerned seeing that the straps of her overalls where unbuttoned without her realizing it

"No I just got back from lunch? Did something happen dear?" She touched the right side of her neck with the tips of her fingers with concern, when she looked down she was surprised seeing that the straps to her overalls where of her shoulders.

"Who the hell was in here messaging me?"

Back in Sabina's apartment Optimus opened the door to the last room he didn't go into, he had been in the art studio the guest bedroom and was very pleased seeing the mini library in the apartment. He sat on her king side bed looking inside the bedroom, like in the rest of the apartment all the furniture was expensive. He couldn't help put realize that there wasn't a single picture of her family anywhere in the entire apartment, curious he looking under the bed hoping he would find something he found a photo album. When he grabbed it out from under the bed he opened it and started looking through the pictures, the first picture he saw was of Sabina when she was seventeen in a rose garden wearing a white sundress her hair wasn't as long as it was now to was too her elbows.

"Beautiful." Looking at the next page beside it got him a little confused the next picture was the same as the first but Sabina was with a man hugging his arm and leaning her head on his shoulder while his hand was resting on her right shoulder.

"This can't be her father?" The man looked to be in his thirties, a good looking Asian guys that looked wealthy with black slick back hair and brown eyes. Optimus turned the next page he say seventeen year old Sabina standing near a beautiful rainbow cherry blossom tree sculpture with very realistic dove sculptures sitting on several branches the tree was the same size as her, she was holding an award in her hands and was wearing the beautiful happy smile on her face.

"This must be her first sculpture?" He noticed the background it looked to be in an art museum once more in the next picture that same man was in it with Sabina this time she had her arms wrapped around his neck with her hand on his chest along with the award in one of her hands and he was embracing her he too was smiling, that didn't make optimus happy seeing that picture.

"Who is this human?" Turning the next page changed his expression the young Sabina wore a privet school uniform standing in front of the school gates with the man next to her with his arm around her shoulder Optimus saw what was writing above the picture

"Back to High School." Looking at the next picture is was Sabina graduation with the cap and gown along with the diploma in her hands

"Where are the pictures before this?" He said that looking under her bed again and the album on the ground still open

"This cannot be her entire life? Where are the older pictures?"

At the collage Sabina's friends took her to the collage bar, her friend Jasmine that was blonde with green eyes was hugging Sabina from her right side as they were sitting down on one of the long seats.

"Oh Sabina that sounded so scary, I can't believe that actually happened to you?" Her other friend Naerim was sitting on Sabina's left side and was hugging her too she had short black hair and brown yes

"So you really thought it was Dr. Price?"

"And that creep actually have the balls and nerve to kiss your neck, who the hell does he think he is?" The girl that was Yuko, Sabina looked up at her friend's and said to them.

"Girls can I have some me time for a few minutes I need to think? Please?" Her friends did what she asked them too when they walked off Sabina touched the right side of her neck again

"Those lips felt familiar somehow?" She closed her eyes remembered what happened in the infirmary, the hands that where on her shoulders realizing that those hands where bigger and stronger than Dr. Price's hands. By the time she stopped remembering one of the bar tenders placed a glass on the table in front of Sabina.

"Compliments from the gentlemen over at the bar, and its club soda mixed with mineral water." Was what the bar tender said to her before walking off

"I hope I wasn't bothering you?" Hearing that voice caught her attention she looked over to see a tall well build older man, he was gorgeous he looked old enough to be her father. Jaggedly cut almost silver hair along with blood red eyes, the sharp strong features on his face his clothes didn't really make him stand out completely or was his sketchy.

"Oh no not at all." Was what she said to him while she picked up the glass in front of her and the man asked her

"May I join you?" Hearing that question made her look at him and she said to him

"I guess you did buy me a drink?" Sabina say the man sitting down right next to her he was close but not close enough to make her uncomfortable as she was drinking her glass she couldn't shake this strange feeling.

"This feeling? I've felt feeling during freshmen year?"

"Optimus was looking over the last picture in Sabina's photo album which was taken recently of her and her eight collage friend's labeled

"23rd birthday." He closed the album then put it back under her bed.

"What is Sabina trying to hide, and why wasn't there a since picture of her relatives?" He thought that to himself as he was standing up off the hard marble ground, he walked over to the closet door when he opened it the light came on it looked as if he walked in a small clothing store because of the size.

"Now it's obvious that someone is helping her with the living arrangements? No one her age can afford to live here, I wonder if the human in the first picture is responsible?" Something caught his attention in the far back that stood out, there was a black box out that was sitting on a set. So of course he opened it there where papers and newspaper clippings in the box the first piece of paper he picked up was a death certificate.

"Certificate of death? This is acknowledge of the death of Caroline Stones?" Reading that only got him more curious, looking at the old newspaper clipping of an article about a car accident that involved the death of one Caroline Stones in New York. There was even a picture of seventeen year old Sabina on the article saying she died from the fire inside the car, there was also another form of a name changing certificate to Sabina Rose.

"She faked her death and changed her name? But why? Who is she trying to hide from?"

At the collage Sabina started continuing life size Pegasus sculpture that was made out of gold rose marble, she was working on the wings making sure that they were stable and even on each feather on the wings. She had her headphones on listening to fall out boy to help her concentrate, Sabina remembered she had to finish her piece and stormed out of bar not even getting the man's name that bought her a drink and sat down with her something told her that she'd seen him before. As soon as she was done with the right wing she sat on the ground Indian style, looking at the time on her phone she say that it was already 2AM. She had been working on the wing for two and a half hours she sighed as she laid on the ground on her back, still listening to her music she closed her eyes. Sabina didn't know why but she started remember when she was fourteen, she was finishing up her homework until she heard her father's voice talking

"You can't be serious, this is my daughter we're talking here?" Hearing that caught her attention of young Caroline she carefully opened the door enough for her to hear her father's phone conversation better

"Please forgive my outburst, Caroline is my only child. Why do you want her she's still fourteen she just got into High School?" Hearing that made her cover her mouth masking the gasp she still heard the conversation

"Can't you let her finish her education? Really sir you'll….. Wait there's no need to keep an eye on her I'll keep a close eye on her for you, I'll make certain she doesn't try anything… Mhm no I-I don't have a problem with that…..Yes I understand." Young Caroline didn't want to hear anymore she carefully closed her door, she still covered her mouth while she started crying her own father she didn't know fully what he was asked to do with her after she finished High School. To her it sounded like her father agreed to an arrange marriage, as she locked her door she thought to herself.

"How could he do something like that to me? What am I supposed to do know? How am I supposed to act towards dad now?" Since that day she didn't trust her father, her own family she acted like she didn't know her planned fate after her senior year. For the past two years in the middle of her sophomore year she felt that she was being watched whenever she was hanging out with her friends outside of school, then one day during the school art feasible Caroline met an art credit Tōshirō Hanamoto. If Caroline Stones didn't met that man that day she wouldn't be in collage and wouldn't have had her new life, Sabina started waking up looking at the high ceiling on the room while smiling. Her phone started ringing that made her unplug the headphone she smiled as she answered it.

"Tōshirō, this is funny I was just thinking about you."

"Really? Nothing bad I hope?" That made Sabina laugh as she stood up while still sitting on the ground

"No why would I ever think of anything bad about you after all you've done for me? Your calling about the painting right?"

"Yes I am are you almost done with it?" Sabina smiled as she answered his question

"I just have to finish the right corner, you'll love it I'm honored you wanted me to do a self-portrait of myself?"

"Well some of your pieces are in my gallery and has made a lot of people very happy, I know with that painting may surpass them and bring the museum a fortune with your art." Hearing that made Sabina giggle

"Oh wow I'm blushing, come by my place tomorrow I'll have it done by that afternoon. And you think you can take me to work also?"

"SABINA YOU DONE IN THERE WE'RE LEAVING!" Hearing that voice came from outside the door Sabina smiled then she heard Tōshirō voice through the phone

"I'll be there before nine."

"Great see ya then." Right after she aid that she ended the call, of course Sabina left the collage with her friends Yuko and Naerim. They drove in Yuko's car which was a dark blue mustang as promised they took Sabina to china town in Los Angeles, the hard part was finding a parking place to park the car that took almost thirty minutes to find. The three of them stayed and looked around china town till 7pm going through different stores, exploring and taking photos with one another like friends normally do. With all the shopping and buying everything from the snack list Sabina spend about $2,000 at China Town, as they were starting to leave Sabina accidentally slipped onto a small pool of water. The second she slipped someone grabbed her by her waist with their arm, Yuko and Naerim where smiling and impressed at what happened. Sabina opened her eyes and was upraised the older man from the collage bar was the one that helped her from falling.

"Well isn't this unexpected I didn't think I would see you again?" Was that the man said to Sabina helping her up with his other hand he was holding her large bag that had the snacks she bought.

"I believe these are yours?" saying that Sabina took the bag from him and she said to him

"Um t-thank you."

"Again so you know him?" Naerim asked Sabina that question and she answered her

"Today at our university's bar, he bought me a drink."

"And left rather quickly before I got her name?" The man said that interrupting her and she said to him looking a little guilty

"Oh sorry about that, I had a project I had to work on." As she was talking she looking at the man and barely held out her hand to him

"I'm Sabina, Sabina Rose." Before he spoke the man took Sabina's hand with his and barely smiled to her

"Tom Negran." Something snapped in Sabina's hands the second she felt and touched his hand

_____

"Sabina I found your key on the passenger's seat, I didn't want to bother you while you were at your classes. So I brought it back to your apartment also you had some packages and I brought them in your apartment so you wouldn't have to. Optimus" Sabina was reading that letter when she got back from her apartment all the bags where placed on her kitchen counter she smiled while she put the paper down.

"How nice of him." After she said that Sabina went over to her bed room turning on the lights and going over to her closet

"I doubt optimus is the snooping type, but I haft to be certain? Plus I've been meaning to put it in the safe." Sabina said that as she went in the closet heading directly for the black box that was sitting out the way she left it, she check to making sure everything was in the right order and it was. After leaving her closet she moved her night stand opened the floor safe that was hiding it, it hid all her old belongs when she was still Caroline Stones. All the pictures of her childhood friends her old boyfriend before she faked her death including her parents when she was a child, Sabina placed the box on top of the photos before closed the safe. She signed and placed the nightstand back right above the safe, after that she lifted the right corner of her mattress revealing dozens of different doujinshi. Seeing them started to get her to start fan girl drool, even back in her old life she was obsessed with yaoi of all kinds it was thanks to her otaku friends that showed it to her during middle school in the 7th grade. She never told her dad so she had to hide them from him, during her funeral Sabina had to get them before she left for California. Of course Sabina can't let your fan girl out every time she seeing hot guys together, she had to force herself to be a normal girl that isn't into Yaoi in public. Sabina wanted to read two issues before she started to complete her painting, the other thing that was on her mind was that Tom character. She thought that not long after she was eating her dinner which was her third large honey crisp apple, Sabina loved apples.

[aineryeo]

‟You Are My Best Friend.„

Synopsis: Tengen, Giyuu, and Kyojuro see you in wild tatters. You recover and unpack all the issues you've hidden for the past year/s.

Themes & Warnings: Coming-of-age, Slice of Life, Lighthearted Romance, Graphic Violence due to Setting, Heavy Canonical References (Theoretical calculated age to fit into the present time in the anime), Spoilers, Eventual Smut, Kind of Slow Burn, Domestic Violence (Verbal/Physical) because Shinjuro. (18+) Also, you meet Akaza, so make of that as you will. → AFAB! Reader.

Chapter Author Notes: I think this one has a lot more flashbacks and time-skipping ahaaa i did not mean for that :")) but it's safe to say we'll be having ~good times~ for a little while + i will be taking a break from this series for a little while after chapter 11 — but anyways, this is shorter than usual, but we'll meet the original cast soon as well anddd we're adults now starting here hehe

i have to write for DG next so see you later my MMF readers ^__^

Marry me first! (먼저 결혼해줘) — Series Masterlist (Age Guides, Playlist, Gallery/Picture References, Terminology List.)

Chapter 8.2 « Chapter 9 (Current) » Chapter 10

Two years and a few months back, Kyojuro could still remember the incredibly vivid memory. Though, really, anyone who thinks of such a haunting event everyday will have every detail nitpicked and memorized. Never to be left unforgotten. The concept of you was, as of right now, much more blazing than the voices of both his late mother and absent father. 

Right. You left him, but he made you go.

Kyojuro directed unfair frustration towards you, and in the end, he had to pay for the repercussions. He knew you were fairly sensitive, and extremely avoidant when faced with difficulties. Thinking that he knew you, rather, being satisfied with the surface personality you showed him was his fault. He didn’t think to dig deeper, to understand you more.

Initially, Kyojuro thought of you as family by bond as you grew closer. But he can’t call you a sister, nor a brother, and most especially not a parent. It didn’t sit right with him.

A friend then?

A friend, you were. A terribly great one. Maybe you were just such a great friend, that Kyojuro feels the crushing waves of emotions washing over him all the more when you left him alone that night. He remembers laying on the bed, unable to call out to you due to his injuries and the medics checking for his current situation. How could he know that you’d never show yourself for years on end, what more when he finds out from Tengen that you’ve been asking all the Hashira but him for training a few months from now.

You’ve left him with no letters.

No greetings.

No visits.

No gifts.

Anything.

Kyojuro would eventually notice his little brother looking at him worried when he spaced off despite having a smile on his face. Most especially if he did so with a blank face. Most of his nights were spent with endless thinking. Of what? Many things.

How can I fix this?

How will I look for you?

Are you mad at me?

Will you shun me if you see me?

What are you thinking right now?

Are you sleeping well?

Why weren’t you staying with Haia-san?

Why did you only send two letters to me for both 28th of April for the past two years?

These were one of the few that were the constant flux inside his mind. Then, he met Umeki.

Kyojuro was about to go home when he sensed the weak presence of a demon in a small diner along the road near the south entrance of his village. When he came in after a brisk knock, a small litter of blood trailed all the way behind the counter. That was when he saw the demon straddling the girl who looked pale, weakened, and terribly afraid. 

Their first meeting.

After Kyojuro quickly disposed of the flaccid demon, he helped her. A lot of the items inside the diner were damaged, Kyojuro offered simple assistance. Bringing her back to their home so she could have a place to stay and recover from her injuries that night. The events that followed after that consisted of Kyojuro eating Umeki’s cooking just as she had insisted.

“It’s the only way I can repay your immense kindness, Rengoku-san.” She smiles.

Kyojuro laughs heartily. “I’ll visit often then. But beware, I eat a lot!” 

Umeki gives him a soft laugh, putting her hand on her mouth. “I’ll stock up a lot more for you then.”

It was all in his inherent kindness and genuine admiration for Umeki’s skill in cooking that kept Kyojuro to visit the quiet diner often. At least as often as he can with his heavy responsibilities. Sometimes, he even brought Senjuro with him. His little brother was pleased with her cooking, much to Umeki’s joy. Soon, Kyojuro found out that Umeki was left alone by her parents to run the diner alone, as they were old and retired already. She’s lucky though, to have trusted employees who also acted much like her friends.

Kyojuro thought that maybe he could ask for advice from her. But the day he thought of asking the help he sought out for, was the day that Umeki confessed to him. 

In a bright and sunny afternoon inside the diner, Kyojuro rejected Umeki.

“You’re really nice, and I like you very much Rengoku Kyojuro-san.” Umeki’s face tinted pink, looking down timidly, intertwining her fingers together as her thumbs rubbed over each other. 

“I’m sorry!” Kyojuro replies.“I have to reject you, I…” I… He pauses.

I’m not looking for a woman nor— No, that’s not right. “I’m…”

Then the words blurt out of his mouth. “I have a fiance.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Kyojuro awoke from his little nap, still awaiting orders within the Ubuyashiki household where the Hashira normally gather. Rubbing his eyes, and letting his palm rest on his aching head. He tries to remember his peculiar dream. You were there, he was sure. But the messages in the dream started to become muddled in his wake. But he remembers one thing, vividly.

He told you… That he’ll look for you. Why? Why did he say that?

“An upper-rank! An upper-rank!” Kaname began yelling as soon as the bird got in earshot’s range. Kyojuro, Tengen, and Giyuu looked up to the crow, all with a briefly shocked expression.

Kyojuro had an abysmal feeling deep within his core. He felt as if someone just told him bad news before it even happened. “Where is it?” Tengen spoke, already up and about.

“Kamo District’s Port Nakagi.” Kaname replies, hovering over the gate.

“Did you see the number… Or is that all you know?” Kyojuro asks, slowly.

“Three. Rintaro said, Upper-rank Three.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It was silent when the backup had arrived in Nakagi. But Tengen and Giyuu already opted to split directions to survey the area surrounding the body of water to check for any remnants of the demon. They were sure there was a fight, they already saw the pile of mens’ bodies hidden within the darkness of the cove. Tengen assumes that there were no survivors, as two Kinoe slayers already looked beyond repair lay on the sandy ground when they first came to the area. He wouldn’t say that they were incompetent at this point, just unlucky. Even Tengen doesn’t know how to measure an Upper Moon, because no one, not even him, has met an Upper Moon.

That’s why… Kyojuro can’t—shouldn’t—come with them.

[...]

“Let me go. Tengen.” Kyojuro stands in front of Uzui, frame attempting to combat his visibly larger frame.

“We don’t need unnecessary emotions in this time-sensitive mission. I can’t let you go with us if you’re going to act rashly, a Pillar can’t die needlessly. Your mistakes might put us in danger too.” Tengen crosses his arms, looking down. Kyojuro was looking up at him, visage darkened, his head wasn’t tilted up to meet Tengen’s. 

It was the first time that Kyojuro had looked so enraged. Tengen was more intimidated with the accompanying silence of the man’s silent fury, and his eyes that pierced through the darkness, baring their fangs right into his vermillion orbs. 

“What mistakes?”

[...]

But how could Tengen even hope to stop Kyojuro now? He certainly can’t when the man’s never been this frightening before. It was no joke that he was appointed Hashira like him, despite being younger. Kyojuro was a man who filled the role of a Pillar flawlessly, just as those in his family did before him. The Sound Pillar jumps through trees, roaming around, listening for any unusual noise.

But much like the Water Pillar, Giyuu, Tengen didn’t find anything.

“The woman that Rengoku-san is looking for…” Giyuu speaks amongst the dead of the night. Already back to the area where they began before splitting up. The coast that met the trail of blood beneath the cimmerian darkness, just barely hiding the mountain of victims, gave the two men a shared feeling of sorrow. Something that wasn’t new to their job.

“This is why I didn’t want him to go.” Tengen replies, with half-lidded eyes. Staring at the soft brushes of sea and rock. “There’s no way that woman would have survived.”

Giyuu hums. He remembers passing by a litter of broken trees and assumes that it was a trail that the demon left behind.

The three of them came much earlier than the kakushi meant to handle the mess left behind by the monster that resided here. “An Upper Moon. Do you think you could beat one?” Tengen asks, now looking at the ever-stoic Water Hashira.

“...”

Tengen guesses that Giyuu’s silence was understandable. They don’t know how strong those demons are, a concrete answer is something that neither of them can ever provide until they’re actually in the situation. But they have heard the stories. No Hashira has ever come back alive after fighting seriously against an Upper Moon demon. That fact alone was a weight heavily placed on their shoulders once they were appointed.

“By the way, where’s Kyoju—”

Pit-a-pat. 

Was it supposed to rain tonight?

Droplets of water began pouring over the area, but the skies were clear of clouds. It was then that Tengen and Tomioka looked up, seeing you. Standing atop the peak of the thorny rock, bare-feet, already looking half-dead, a mix of blood and seawater on your whole form. In your hand, you were holding Kyojuro by the collar. The Flame Hashira was damp, and was gently holding your shaky forearm that held him tightly. You were almost like a wild animal that somehow found its way to them, where you bare your teeth, wary of their presence.

Just what exactly did you go through?

Tengen and Tomioka were beyond shocked to see you at all. Even more that you’re holding Kyojuro right now as if he weighed nothing. As if your injuries were nonexistent. It was you, they were sure… But they could not see your eyes. Are you currently unconscious? 

The air around them feels tighter, harder to breathe.

What should they do? It feels wrong to attack you, they were sure you weren’t a demon despite your disheveled appearance. If you were, you’d have killed Kyojuro already and drank his blood to fix all your injuries. The man in question is the first to break the tension, eliciting a small chuckle from his throat.

Kyojuro offers you a genuine smile as your white sclera, devoid of your luminescent irises, looks at him. “You’re cold again.”

“...” Your chapped lips remain ajar, hiding your teeth, as you only look at him and he at you. 

“Look, the sun is rising.” Kyojuro looks to his left, and you follow his gaze, right into the horizon where the skies meet the sea. The light from the evanescent beauty that was greeting you, spilled all over your figures. Basking your dull skin and his skin. 

Oh.

His skin. Him. Him. Him, him, him…

You feel his hand slide up from your wrist to your hand. “Let’s get you warm.”

It was neither blood nor seawater that got into your eyes as you felt it water up. Starting to feel yourself get back into reality once more, your eyes that once only showed your sclera, rolled to reveal your irises.

“My (Name)...” Like a waterfall, your tears fell on your messy face whilst your hand let go of Kyojuro’s collar. Allowing him to regain his balance, and catch your fatigued figure. Kyojuro’s other hand supported your head, whilst the other that held your hand was now on your back. His face leans closer to yours, resting on his chest, in a gentle embrace, just as the rays of the sun reflected the tamed flame within Kyojuro’s heart.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Two Months Later.

At The Butterfly Residence.

A few months after your encounter with the Third Upper Moon, you awoke to face the dark wooden roof of the Butterfly Mansion’s collective patient room. You blink slowly at first before squinting, trying to get used to the bright light that gets in your eyes from the window beside your bed. Turning your head, you see two other slayers, bandaged fully, nearly head to toe.

On the bedside table, there lay a mountain of unopened envelopes. Next to some fruits, your kumihimo, and your folded haori that looks to be newly washed. You clutch your head, remembering everything that happened.

“A-ah! Aaah!! A patient is awake!” A little girl points at you, making her drop the tray she held in her hands. Causing the medicine in the teacup to spill all over the floor.

“Naho, the tea!” Another small girl peeks out of the door frame in a panicked state. Naho, now realizing how she messed up, gets the tray and cup off the floor.

“Here, I ran to get a rag when I saw.” A third petite girl pops up.

“Kiyo!! Ahhh, thank you!” Naho pipes up, looking like she’s about to cry.

After the whole situation, two of them approach you with a smile on their faces while the other rushes to return the dishes. They look really young. Much younger than Senjuro, you were sure. They looked around six? Or perhaps seven… Senjuro should be about ten now.

“Hello! I’m Kiyo,” The girl with short hair said.

“I’m Sumi!” The girl with twin tails said.

“I’m Naho…” The girl with twin braids said, just now coming into the room.

“Hello, Kiyo, Sumi, Naho.” You greet back with a parched throat, coughing immediately after. 

“Ah, here I got you water when I took back the other stuff!!” Naho fusses, handing you a cup filled with lukewarm water. You nod back to her gratefully and you take the cup to drink the water in one gulp, sighing in relief after. “How long was I out…?”

“The Flame Pillar carried you here about…” Kiyo counts on her fingers, “Four months ago!”

``Four months? That’s a lot of wasted time…`` You think. For you, it felt like one long, comfortable sleep. Plopping down on the mattress, you stretch your limbs as the little girls watch you. Right now, your hair was one huge mess. But apart from that, your whole body feels lighter than it's ever been.

``So, Kyojuro brought me here… I wonder how we’ll act when we see each other again. Do I tell him about my dream while sinking in the ocean? Or about how he stole Shiba? Maybe about what his father told you? Should you ask about Umeki? — Right, everything should be cleared up when I see him.`` You resolute on your own as the girls watched your expression changing from one to another emotion in the span of a minute.

Sumi pipes up, trying to fill the air. “You actually recovered really quick, onee-san!”

You tilt your head to the side in intrigue. “What do you mean by that?”

[...]

Kyojuro headed to the room where you were as soon as he heard you’ve awoken from Kochou and consequently, Rintaro who told Kaname. Information travels fast with these birds. When he slid the door open, he already saw you standing up, fixing your uniform collar. Your hakama pants were replaced with a skirt this time, and your legs were covered in black tights that hugged them well. It was almost like deja vu when he saw you in your old attire; with the most notable difference being that the once loose cloth was now hugging you more snugly. 

As you fixed your collar, he hears you mumble about why Haia had left your old uniform for you instead of the hakama pants that you actually got used to. Kyojuro then shakes his head, ridding himself of the small blush that formed on his cheeks when he first caught a glimpse of you. Then, his initial emotions come rushing back to him all at once.

“You’re… Awake!” Kyojuro says with a downturned mouth, eyebrows scrunched together as if his most intense worry was lifted off his shoulders at last. Looking like he’s about to cry but not quite.

You finally look at him, standing still at the door frame, hands gripping the frame harshly. Grinning and giving him your most rambunctious laugh, you reply with raised open arms. “I’m awake!”

Kyojuro takes your invite for a tight embrace, quickly moving from the entrance, already close to you. It’s like that for a while, you and him, wrapped in each others’ arms. The chirping of sparrows, and the rays of the sun penetrated the room, providing you warmth. It was the middle of Spring right now, and so, everything seemed much more colorful. Like the flowers that bloomed in the season.

“It’s been such a long time.” Kyojuro finally speaks, breaking your temporary tranquil. “I have so much to tell you.”

You simply hum in reply, and hug him tighter, holding on to the back of his uniform. You deeply inhale his oaky scent as your eyes close in thought. He’s probably just gone back from a mission, light sweat on his skin, and yet you couldn’t get enough of his welcoming aroma. Did he always smell this good?

Unbeknownst to you, Kyojuro did the same, ever pining for your figure.

Putting your chin over his shoulder so as not to muffle your voice, “I also have… A lot to say.” You say. “I’ll tell you the truth. I’ll tell you everything.”

Slowly pulling away from each other, you look into each other's eyes. And while Kyojuro’s eyes were looking at you as if he was still in a trance and a small smile, you look at him with a somber expression. You wanted to tell him everything about why you disappeared, you wanted to tell him that it wasn’t his fault, you wanted to tell him that if he likes someone else, then it was okay. But why was he doing this? Looking at you with his sienna orbs, holding you closely still, you’re caught in the spell that he cast.

A slow force was pulling you two together, closer and closer… Until your foreheads touch, and your skin meets his just as your warm breaths exchange. Until both your noses meet each other in a haze, and then Kyojuro speaks. Saying something that immediately snaps you out of your peculiar daze.

“I like you.”

A moment of silence. You’re trying to see if what he’s saying was real, or if he was real. But the light dust of pink on his cheeks and his whole figure that was evidently getting warmer as your arms stayed around his torso proved that this was real. The serious and sudden situation gave you a sudden pump in your chest, one of immense panic.

“...Haha, what..?” You tread carefully.

But Kyojuro, ever resolute with his current decision, immediately says with a loud voice; rather, his normal voice: “I like you!” — Then he grins widely, as if what he just said wasn’t something out of the blue at all.

“Ah…” You reply. “AHHH!!!” You scream.

Flustered, you push yourself away from Kyojuro. Your action makes him look visibly down, and you hate that he looks like an abandoned puppy. A rejected puppy. Though I guess essentially he was…? You cover your face with the back of your hand, trying to think properly with how you were going to deal with the situation. Watching Kyojuro’s suddenly clingy disposition has caught you totally off guard.

“You’re— You’re not joking?”

“No! I like you!” He repeats, moving from his sad look to his immediately upstanding face.

You clear your throat, feeling your face heat up in embarrassment. Or so you would like to say.

“Kyo…Ju…Ro!!!!” You yell, as you grab your own head and then point at him accusingly. Kyojuro flinches. “Just because you’re starting to be popular with girls, you’re already playing with me? Who do you think I am, huh?! Just because you got a better complexion now, or is it because you got taller? Or is it, is it because…” Your eyes start to wander down to his torso before quickly looking back up at him. 

Enraged, you continue with your scolding. “You—!!!” Kyojuro pouts at you. Is this deliberate?! (It was not.)

Kyojuro, who was genuinely confused, starts thinking about what you said. “Popular with girls? I’m not.”

Kyojuro doesn’t remember ever doing anything that would conventionally make girls flock to him. He doesn’t care for any other women’s attention. Though now that he thinks about it… Senjuro brought up a topic with him before. He was about to speak up about it, until he saw your somber face, as if you’ve already made a decision by yourself.

You look up at him. “I used you.”

Kyojuro doesn’t speak, and your words just continue to tumble out. “My family is centered around the idea that I should get married. Most especially into a good family like yours. I don’t talk about them ‘cause we’re not on good terms…” Your throat feels clogged. “—And, and then there’s my sister, and my mother. They’re all crazy.” You laugh, looking down.

You continue, still staring down at both your sock-clad feet. “I mean, I look after them every other night when I was with you. Then it turned into every night when I lost you.”

You look up at Kyojuro’s face who was listening to every word. “I wanted to marry you so I can prove to my mother that I was worth something even if I don’t do things the usual way. So when I met you and was around you more, I genuinely enjoyed your company.” 

Jokingly chastising Kyojuro, you say, “But you were so mean that night.” — Though jokes are half-meant. You can’t deny the dull stab in your heart at the memory.

Kyojuro, on the other hand, frowned and his eyebrows downturned, looking utterly sorrowful. “Don’t do that face.” You say.

“I’m sorry…” Kyojuro whispers.

“I said stop it…” You look down, feeling your eyes burn.

“It’s my fault. I never should have said that. I was dissatisfied with myself. I also wanted to accomplish the expectations my parents had left on me. Or otherwise shatter the expectation of what I’d become… So, in a way, I also used the joy you’d usually bring to avoid the suffocation. In turn, I gave you so many things to worry about, but as selfish as I could be, I’d never wish for you to leave.” He says as if he’d reflected on that thought countless times.

Kyojuro softly grabs a hold of your face, wiping the tears you were hiding from him with his thumbs. You finally let out a sniffle, trying to get yourself together. “You never made me unhappy.” And then he offers you a smile. “—And I’m not in love with anyone else. So please stay with me.”

Your hands move to hold his that were on your damp cheeks. “You’re such a playboy.” You joke.

“Umeki-san did admit that she liked me,” Kyojuro explains, the first line he chose already made you frown. An ugly feeling quickly forming within your chest. “But I rejected her.”

“...Is she nice?”

Kyojuro had to think of an answer for a while. “Yes?”

“I’m not nice.” You sulk.

“You’re the person I look for when I’m happy, sad, and everything in between.” He says.

The conversation after that seemed endless. Both sitting on your once made bed, you both recall having a collective dream, but neither of you remember the full details. You laugh, you gloom, and you smile as you exchange stories. He knew of your reasons, and you knew of his. 

“Seriously, when you marry into the Rengoku family, the wife has to stare at the fire of a candle for hours when she’s pregnant?” You remark, both amazed and scared.

“That’s what my mother said to me before.” Kyojuro looks up as if he was trying to look for said memory.

A knock on the open door interrupted both your train of thoughts.

“Hello? Oh!” Aoi peeks out, bowing at the presence of your companion. “Rengoku-san!” Then she looks at you, slightly nodding. “(Name)-san.”

“Aoi-chan~” You greet back. Kyojuro hums enthusiastically back at the girl. 

“It’s already late and I have to clean the room up. I thought you left already, (Name)-san.” Aoi talks to you. You notice how she’s a bit more formal now that Kyojuro was around. For the past couple of days, she was quite harsh towards you, like a tsundere. Though she was much harsher toward the boys, especially those in lower ranks.

What she said causes both you and Kyojuro to glance at each other then out the window, noticing how the skies were starting to become the familiar gradient of the sunset. “We didn’t notice, sorry!” Kyojuro replies before you.

“We’ll go home now.” Kyojuro continues, standing up from beside you, holding his hand out to you.

This makes Aoi look between you and Kyojuro, immediately forgetting her presence when you reach your hand out to his own. She watches as you two walk out the door, shoulder-by-shoulder, with grins big enough to show your teeth. 

Aoi faces back to the bed where you once sat on to fix the few crumples left behind, she thinks back. “Rengoku-san feels less intense today…”

[...]

On your way back with Kyojuro, you’re not sure if he forgot to let go of your hand or if it was on purpose. Of course, he did say that he liked you, but neither of you really wanted to rush into a relationship. Because you also had to make sure that your feelings were real and there for him. And then there’s the issue of your family… For him? Shinjuro-san wasn’t much of a problem. Despite being a cruel father, you understood his avoidant coping the best. You haven’t heard anything from Senjuro about Shinjuro being as aggressive as he was at first, he did however, became a heavier recluse instead.

You decide to stop by to see Haia-san first. Kyojuro told you that she stayed at Shirakawa with her long-time boyfriend Mitsue Koki. It was safe to say that the moment you called her out from their door, her eyes immediately landed on your twined hands. Haia pointed this out easily, making you release Kyojuro’s hand in hasty embarrassment and denial. You thanked her for leaving you a new pair of uniforms while you were still knocked out after your old pair of pants got ruined. In the end, you both agreed to meet up soon to recall everything either of you missed. Kyojuro would pipe up every now and then as he stood tall next to you, but for most of the time, he smiled and listened to you talk to your previous teacher.

It wasn’t long that the conversation ended and you had to walk again. On the way, familiar faces met familiar faces. Some neighbors in particular recognized you, who was next to the ``ever famous young bachelor of Shirakawa`` Rengoku Kyojuro. As soon as you made it to the Rengoku household, a series of barks can be heard behind the large wooden gate. A familiar booming voice resonated in the air. Though a small difference was present in his usual tone. Shinjuro-san sounded rather… Sick.

You slam the wooden gate open.

Then, you were met by the sight of a fully-grown Shiba laying on Shinjuro-san’s lap. Even having the gall to roll around and spread her fur more on his kimono. What was more surprising was that Shinjuro, despite having a red nose, had his hand rubbing Shiba’s neck with a nasty scowl on his face. 

“Ah.” You let out.

“Ah.” Kyojuro lets out.

“Ah.” Shinjuro lets out.

“Woof!”

“A-Ah!!! Help, Shinjuro-san is abusing my dog!!!” You yell and point at him accusingly as if it was on instinct. Your voice resonated across the whole town, birds flying away, disturbed by your volume.

Your unmistakable entrance makes Shinjuro look quickly between you and Kyojuro, looking utterly panicked. Cursing right out of his breath.

“I’m the victim! Me!” Shinjuro aggressively retaliates, pointing at himself and then sneezing right after.

“Oh.” 

Just ``Oh?`` Shinjuro thinks with a scowl. Ungrateful brat.

You and your long lost dog Shiba finally meet through eye contact. For a while, Shiba only looked at you quizzically, as if racking her brain as to who you were. You walked towards Shiba who refused to leave Shinjuro’s lap, lowering yourself, crouching; you smile as you scratched behind Shiba’s ear.

“My Shiba Inu has grown so much.” 

It clicked. You were her first savior! The one who saved her from the cold and dark place that day! Shiba whimpered, internally beating herself up for forgetting you for even a second. Your hand rubs her snout, until both your hands stretch her cheeks, making the dog’s eyes thinner, and smile wider.

“Have you successfully chased away other women approaching Kyojuro?”

“Bark!”

“You have! Oh, I’m so proud of you, I love, love, love you so much.” You coddle, picking Shiba up in your arms easily and embrace her fully. Sitting on the ground as she licked your face happily barking.

“Ane!” A small voice calls out as the sound of feet running through wood catches your attention.

“Sen-kun!” You open your arms.

“Ane!!! You’re back!!!” Senjuro yells shakily, hugging you tightly, tackling you to the ground as two heavy weights were now put on top of you. You laugh at the boy. Despite growing so much in the two years you’ve spent apart, his personality has barely changed at all. “Someone tipped me off that your brother was starting to like another woman. I can’t let that happen! I’m the only one who’s allowed to be Sen-kun’s one and only ane!”

Your accusations make Kyojuro crouch down in front of you. His image, in your perspective, was upside down. Kyojuro lightly grabs both your cheeks… Everyone watches intently at what he was about to do. And then… He stretches it.

“A-!” You react.

“No one else!” Kyojuro says with resolution.

“Hai, hai, sorry. It hurts, Kyo-kun.” You say with a semi-obstructed voice. And yet he doesn’t listen. Kyojuro kept your face stretched even when you looked impossibly ridiculous. “Kyojuro— Oi, Kyojuro, listen, oi.”

“Woof, woof, woof!”

“Ane, tell me more of what happened while you were gone!”

Shinjuro watched silently. Albeit his silence, his face was that with a form of tranquil. Your laugh and Shiba’s barks filled the air, you held a perfect conversation with the dog whilst dealing with both of his sons. Shinjuro, after a few minutes, chooses to look away and stand up as he pats his clothes for fur that may be stuck on him. When you notice this, your eyes follow his figure that walked back inside the house. Your hands move from holding both Senjuro and Shiba, to Kyojuro’s hands to lightly pat him away, to which he follows your movement fluidly. 

After everything, you guess that Shinjuro was the one who really helped you come back here. So… Sitting up, you yell for him.

“Shinjuro-san!”

The man looks back at you, waiting for what you had to say.

Thank you. For accepting me. 

“Let’s eat dinner together. All of us.” You grin.

Ridiculous. Shinjuro gave a bleak smirk to himself. I’ve barely done anything… After all, for a long time, I was and still am, quite a terrible father. But he just can’t deny that perhaps… You were his son’s own ``Ruka.`` — Shinjuro hates himself. That’s why he’d hate it even more if Kyojuro ends up to be truly like him.

“I’m drinking tonight.” Shinjuro replies with his back faced towards all four of you, walking away to lock himself in his room to think.

[...]

For the remaining time that passed, you caught up to Senjuro and Shiba, Kyojuro was naturally inclusive, of course. Your jokes hinting about Umeki died down after a few more jabs. Neither Kaname nor Rintaro came over that day. Soon, the day was nearing its end, the skies getting darker; a sight that signaled that you must be alert. But for now, it seems that no news of a mission was to come for either you and Kyojuro. It was late, and you had no spare clothes here, you were sure you had to go back to the empty house you once lived in with Haia. Still, you don’t want to leave.

All of you finished eating Tempura and simple white rice for dinner. You promised a feast soon, even though Kyojuro and Senjuro defied that and decided to throw a feast for you instead of the other way around. Right after you all ate and gave some leftover beef that they had to Shiba, Shinjuro walked in the dining area. Contrary to what he said, Shinjuro didn’t look or act drunk tonight. Senjuro didn’t flinch in his presence as much as he used to, and Kyojuro had a civil reaction in the presence of his father; simply greeting him accordingly before helping wash the dishes.

It was amazing how much has changed from before. You remember Kyojuro telling you of his realization when he told his father that he just became a Hashira. It was terrible—Which was exactly why Kyojuro chose to move on by himself. To enjoy what was happening in the moment. To work harder for the future that could either be close or far. Kyojuro worked hard to enjoy being by himself and being a good figure for everyone, and you were happy for him.

Now sitting out on the porch that faces the Rengoku household’s garden, you and Kyojuro remain in silence as both of you are stuck in your own thoughts; staring up at the night sky that was to be engulfed with the lustrous stars. The crescent moon lit up the otherwise dark area that you both currently resided in.  Either of your skin was moon-kissed, glowing by the glaze of the beautiful moon in the sky tonight. And so, deciding to speak your thoughts, you look at Kyojuro and talk.

“I have to meet my parents again.” Kyojuro looks at you, now listening, pulled from his own mind easily. “Tomorrow I’ll go if Rintaro doesn’t meet me by morning for a mission.” You slouch, sighing. “I have to ask my father something. Whether it becomes significant in my search for my own greatness, I’ll find out from him.”

“Can I go with you?” Kyojuro asks all the sudden. “I want to meet your family too.”

“I don’t know why you’d want to go, I told you about them already.” You scratch your neck.

With wide and reassured eyes, Kyojuro showed an expression that meant he would not back down despite whatever you could possibly throw at him. What more, he replies: “It’s all the more reason I should go. I want to be there for you. I like you, (Name).”

This makes you chuckle defeatedly amused by Kyojuro. “You’re hopeless, Kyojuro.” You say, dropping the side of your head on his shoulder. He adjusted himself to sit closer to you so you wouldn’t have a stiff neck later.

“It’s true.” Kyojuro replies, looking down at you who had your eyes closed. You can feel the rumble of his chest as he talks.

“If you say it too much I might not believe it.” You jokingly chastise.

“...Really?” His meek response immediately made you feel guilty. You feel your cheeks heat up at his intense sincerity, you lightly cough in embarrassment, putting your hand over your mouth.

“...No, please keep saying it.”

Kyojuro’s hand that once hesitated to put itself around your waist landed softly on the fabric of your uniform. Inching to your hand placed in front of you, he holds them with his. The cold night air made the natural heat eminent from Kyojuro’s body comfortable to your naturally cold physicality.

“Will you go home tonight?” He whispers.

“I have to, but I don’t want to.” You reply in the same fashion.

“Stay here. There’s still the room you slept in, it’s been well-kept and neat.”

“Mm…” You hum. Simply enjoying the whole being that was Kyojuro. He’s the best hugger, you wish there is never a time where you’d ever be deprived of this again. “I don’t think I brought any extra clothes…” You yawn, tired from the day already.

“I’ll get them for you,” Kyojuro suggests but you let out an instinctive whine when he pulled away from your warm embrace, immediately feeling cold as you rubbed your eyes awake. “I can be quick if I run.”

“You should be more tired than me, didn’t you just come back from a mission?” You scrunch your brows as you stare at his face. He was smiling very proudly as he clenched his fist in front of you. “If this tires me out, then I’m not worthy to have become a Hashira!”

You felt shy to allow Kyojuro to go through your wardrobe alone. Seriously, sometimes he’s just so dense. Standing up, you stretch your back and give him your hand to help him stand as well. “We’ll go together—If I don’t get there first.” As Kyojuro took your hand and stood up, stretching his body as well, you were already jogging out of their gate immediately after putting on your sandals.

Kyojuro was amused, jogging after you slowly. What he initially thought was to be a simple jog towards the house where you once lived in with Haia, was actually an intense race. Because the moment he saw you step out of their gate, you looked back to him, and then the next second, all you left was a trail of dust amidst the sparks in your steps. 

When had you gotten this fast? 

Kyojuro had no time to think any more than that as he tried to catch up to you immediately, remembering the directions from way back clearly in his head. Though he noticed that you’d definitely become faster, he was able to catch up to you easily, much to your mock dismay. Kyojuro just knew that you were tempted to put your tongue out and pull your cheek down to mess with him; but you were both aware that at the speed you were both going in, you’d most likely catch a bug in your mouth.

Of course, that didn’t stop a smile and an internal laugh to form from the boy as he watched you think to yourself. It didn’t take long for both of you to arrive at Haia’s old house. Kyojuro wasn’t tired, and he noticed how you also barely broke a sweat. After he patiently waited outside for you to rummage through your wardrobe, you came out with a boro bag, sliding the door to Haia’s old house shut.

“Let’s go back!” You say with a satisfied face.

[...]

  Since Kyojuro first saw you, he’s been plagued. When you were thirteen and was first accepted as a slayer like him, when you first touched his hand and immediately expressed your thoughts: ``Your hands are warm. — And the odd feeling, the hurt, the guilt, the longing, all of which crashed on him when you left. And now, he feels as if overflowing. 

That’s why he’s plagued. It spilled over when he said he liked you. Kyojuro knew that he did, at this point, he was sure he did. He had years to think about it, though maybe what was hard is that the only people who truly knew his struggle apart from little Senjuro were all… Men. No concrete answers were ever given to him, and the only guide he followed was how he simply wants to be with you.

Is it wrong when late into the night, he couldn’t sleep?

Is it so wrong when he sits up from his futon, trying to talk himself out of his own thoughts?

And would it be the worst sin if he stood in front of the room you were sleeping in… Debating whether to knock and ask if you were already asleep, even if he knew you were still recuperating from months of being bedridden… Was it wrong?

You were his best friend, you are his best friend. The way you’d easily mold into each other even after a long separation, Kyojuro can say that your relationship with each other is like a force of nature.

Knock, knock, knock.

“Are… Are you asleep…?” Kyojuro asks quietly into the dark hallway in which he stood. Into the door in his face, into the figure who was laying on the futon inside.

There was no response. Right. It was his mistake. He should sleep.

“Maybe.” A similarly quiet voice replies from inside. And despite having a hard time hearing for most of his days, Kyojuro can hear you, whether it was in the silence of your room, or the noise of the crowd; he knows how to hear you.

Maybe what both of you felt was still yet to be properly defined, but it’s something you can feel in the stillness. The door slides open. Sock-clad feet skid along the smooth floor, the door closes. He takes a step, it’s not much, but it said enough. You can see it with the lights out.

He is in love.

Chapter 8.2 « Chapter 9 (Current) » Chapter 10

If you'd like to buy me stars after touring my universe, visit my ko-fi. ⭐

[astaroth1357]

Hello I really love your writing. I’m glad that you decided to open requests for a bit. I have a personal headcanon that the boys are a lot nicer to MC then they are to everyone else. Could you do a headcanon of the boys being out with MC and they are talking with MC happily. Then a lesser demon sees them with MC and says that the seven brothers have gone weak and they aren’t scared of them anymore. Thank you again!!! 😖 (Also the way you write Levi is great)

Aww thank you!! Levi's kind of my favorite character (if that hasn't become painfully obvious) so I try to write him well, you know? This one was a little hard for me to write because I just have a hard time imagining Asmo and Beel as something intimidating to the masses, but I tried my best! I hope you like it!

Lesser Demons Think the Brothers have "Gone Soft…"

Lucifer

If anybody had something to lose by acting sweet on a lowly human, it was Lucifer. His entire image was built on the back of power and intimidation, so really who didn't see this coming?

He knew there were whispers… Mostly in the RAD hallways. Students would see him with the MC and gossip amongst themselves… 

"Did you see them together again in the courtyard?"

"How did some random human even score a pact with him??"

"And I used to seriously look up to him, too…"

He'd always silence their chitchat with a well placed glare, but this was a symptom of something more… troubling. A decay of his social image if you will.

Perhaps it speaks to how well and truly enamored he was with the MC that this proud creature didn't just dump them the second he started looking bad, but still… a part of him really couldn't stand for this...

So maybe it was a blessing in disguise when he finally got an excuse to establish his superiority yet again!

He and the MC were walking the halls of RAD after school hours and they had just made an amusing joke at the expense of of his brothers. Unfortunately, Lucifer collided into a lesser demon student while he was laughing…

On most occasions, he would have expected someone of such station to pay him deference then offer an apology - they had just ran into Lucifer after all - but the student just scoffed at him!

Lesser Demon: "Oi! Watch where you're going, Lucifer! Or were you too busy sucking up to that human to notice?"

This… was maybe not the best response to have (if the "Oh shit" look on the MC's face was any indication) but for as annoyed as Lucifer was, he was also somewhat delighted.

Finally, he had the perfect messenger for just how cruel he could still be!

Lucifer: "MC, feel free to go home without me for now and tell my brothers to save my dinner for later…" *starts pulling out his favorite rope with a cold, but pleased, smile on his face* "I have a feeling I'll be home late tonight..."

The MC left him and his unfortunate victim to their fate and Lucifer later came home in the night with his uniform in a bad need of cleaning...

A new body decorated the RAD entrance hall the next morning - swinging from the ceiling and making an awful mess on the floor - but still alive enough give a very important message to the rest of the students:

"Lucifer hasn't changed a bit…"

Mammon

So, not even lesser demons see Mammon as some kind of high-ranking badass… 

Just to be clear, he is, but it’s hard for him to come off that way when he's begging for his next Grimm... Then enter MC into the picture and he somehow lost even MORE cred.

"There goes poor Mammon… Did you hear he got tricked into a pact?"

"Just look at him nipping at the human's heels! How pathetic is that??"

"Well that's Mammon for you… What a shit excuse for a demon."

Like Lucifer, Mammon wasn’t immune to the whispers, but unlike his brother he was able to push them mostly out of his mind. People look down on him? Yeah, what else is new?

To be honest, he didn’t really feel the need to prove anything to a bunch of lesser demon losers… But insulting his MC takes things a step too far.

He and the MC were out at the Devil's Coast, "enjoying" some of the haunted house attractions and generally having a good time…ish. 

Any time they managed to make it out of one, the MC would have to peel Mammon off their back and hold him to assure him they were back to safety (a process he seemed to like enough to repeat the horror that precedes it).

It was during one of these calm down sessions that the two were accosted by a couple of snickering lesser demons, clearly looking for a fight…

Lesser Demon 1: "Hey look! There's the 'Great' Mammon and his little master!"

Lesser Demon 2: "Guess the master fits the demon… Of course someone like Mammon couldn't even score a pact with Solomon and gets stuck with the weakling!"

Lesser Demon 1: "Well how's the babysitting going, Mams? I bet you can't wait for them to kill over, can ya?"

Lesser Demon 2: "Careful! With his luck, they'll probably get eaten by the end of next week! Haha!!"

Now… an important thing to know about Mammon is that you can fling all the mud and stones you'd like at him… but never at his MC. That's just asking for a bruising...

Mammon: *smiling like usual, but his eyes are practically burning with rage...* "Yo, MC… I'm gettin' a little hungry. Can ya go find us a snack over there? I'll meet ya in a bit…"

MC: "Mammon, are you-?"

Mammon: "Don’t worry 'bout me, babe." *takes his glasses off and flashes a fanged grin* "This is'a piece of cake."

And indeed, it wasn't difficult at all. No matter how fast those demons ran, they could never out speed Mammon and he was looking to give more than a warning…

The MC didn't know what he did while they were waiting in line, but they heard the sounds of pleading go silent before Mammon turned back up with a nice bruise on his cheek. Oh, how they fretted and dotted on him…

Meanwhile, the haunted houses just earned themselves a couple new mannequins!… when rigor sets in anyway.

Leviathan 

Levi has a… mixed reputation in the Devildom to start with. People who only know him for his titles usually expect him to be some kind of sea-hardened badass. Those who meet him are… well let's say less than impressed.

This isn't anything new to Levi. It does take a blow to his confidence sometimes but even still most people aren't dumb enough to say something to his face… most people.

Unfortunately, "most people" have been getting bolder after seeing him with MC - because Demon Lord forbid Leviathan actually look happy for a change…

He and the MC were out and about for once. There was a raffle for exclusive merch at Anidaemon and he brought them along to boost his chances. They were grinning and chatting about anime but well…

The human couldn’t hear this, but he could - sensitive demon ears and all that. There were a couple guys who were tailing him… heckling him just loud enough that he was CERTAIN they knew he could hear them...

Lesser Demon 1: "Is that seriously Leviathan hanging out with a human? Isn’t he an Admiral??"

Lesser Demon 2: "Ha! The whole family's turned into simps, are you that surprised?"

Lesser Demon 1: "Wonder what the human's giving them that's got them all brainwashed…"

Lesser Demon 2: "Well... I've got an idea." 😏

If there were ever a reason for bile to fill his throat, it was now. He might be a shut-in, but those guys were the real creeps…

To be honest, Levi isn't one for public confrontation. Even with how gross and disrespectful those demons were being, he would have let it slide if they had just left it at that… but no…

He and the MC were browsing the ani-music racks in the store when those idiots popped up again. They hovered a while until they MC suddenly left his side to go find a store clerk.

When he saw the other demons move their direction, he naturally put himself between them and the would-be harassers. It was a little telling that despite his ticked off expression, the demons just laughed in his face!

Lesser Demon 2: "Hey look, the puppy's come out to protect its owner! How cute!"

Lesser Demon 1: "I can't believe you're that predictable, Levi… Do you really think we'd be scared of you?"

Well. That settled it.

When the MC came back, they found that Levi had moved from the music racks to the merch tables near the bathrooms. They didn't think anything of it… but...

One body was paralyzed by his venom and stuffed head first in a toilet while the other getting strangled by his tail just underneath the tablecloth… Meanwhile, Levi was cheerfully rambling about the raffle like nothing was happening at all.

Maybe they should have been a little more scared of the shut-in...

Satan

This may actually be a case where the rumors have a point… The MC has made Satan "soft."

Well, if "soft" means actually in control of himself, anyway. 

Satan would probably call their effect on him both a blessing and a curse. Though he loved finally having a handle on his inner rage, it flew in the face of a lot of his public image… and people were starting to notice….

"Do you think there's something off about Satan…?"

"I saw the human step on his toes earlier and he didn't even flinch…! The old Satan would have torn them apart!!"

"He's gotten way too nice all of sudden… Wrath shouldn't be nice."

Was it a little frustrating? Certainly. Especially for someone as image conscious as him. But for as calm as he was now, Satan wasn’t any less cruel and he'd be more than happy to remind others of that fact….

His chance came when he and the MC were together having just left the local art gallery. The two were exchanging a healthy dialogue about a curious sculpture they saw on display when a latte suddenly went soaring through the air and ended up all over Satan's sweater… The culprit was plain to see, being the only other demon on the road that night.

Whether the act was intentional or not, the correct course of action would have been to apologize immediately and beg for mercy forgiveness… but all the demon did was laugh in his face…

Maybe he thought that since Satan had mellowed out and his human was right beside him that he'd be lenient… Oh no. Not gonna happen.

Satan's fist slammed into the guy's mouth with the force of a jetliner and knocked him over two benches before his back bent over a lamppost… To say it was a KO move would be an understatement.

He probably could have done a whole lot worse to the guy while he was down, but you know… the MC being there and "self-control" and what not…

The demon survived (barely) and only had to spend a few months in the hospital, if anything he got off light.

Not a soul would gloss over Satan's temper again and really he preferred it that way.

Asmodeus 

Well, to be fair not a lot of people thought that Asmo was tough to start with… but that's also his intention.

"Scary" is the opposite of "cute" and he prefers to be "cute" at all times! 😊

Buuut that doesn’t mean this scorpion is without a stinger. He CAN be quite brutal when he wants to be, you just have to push him that far and trashing his looks is a good way to start.

Asmo was out with the MC getting his hair done for the week at his favorite salon. They weren't the only people there that day, obviously. There were other customers - one being a lesser demon classmate of theirs - though neither he nor the MC thought much of him at the time...

Well… It was supposed to be a prank. Probably something the guy intended to use for social media clout. While the staff was too busy to notice, he snuck by and replaced Asmo's preferred conditioner with pink hair dye…

Asmo. Was. Furious. And honestly, the dude could have gotten away with it if he hadn't been laughing and recording the whole thing!

When Asmo's ire naturally fell onto him, he hardly looked fazed!

Lesser Demon: "Ah, please! You won't do shit to me with the human still around! You don't want to look any uglier to them do ya?"

Asmo: *freezes, but still furiously eyeing every sharp instrument within arm’s reach* "MC? Darling?"

MC: "Got it..."

Perhaps the prankster should have kept his mouth shut, because suddenly the MC needed to take a looong bathroom break…

They didn't come back out until they heard the sounds of screeching and broken glass finally die down and then they stepped back into a warzone… Broken mirrors and items seemingly flung everywhere in a fit of rage! The guy (and his phone) now nowhere to be seen…

The salon comped Asmo for the botched hair job and touch up… and then billed Lucifer for the property damage (which he got an earful about later). On the bright side though, Asmo actually looks pretty great with pink hair! Silver-linings. 🙂

Beelzebub 

… The concept of Beel "going soft" is almost an oxymoron. He IS soft, but his personality was never what made him intimidating to start with.

Behind all his kindness, Beel packs more firepower than at least 4 for his siblings combined and most people remember that fact. Hell, the guy looks like he could lift a semi and he probably would if he ever tried. 

However, that doesn’t save him from being underestimated completely... Especially when an upstart or two thinks he's too nice to actually start a fight...

He and the MC were coming back from the grocery store with the usual armfuls of sacks when the MC accidentally walked into a lesser demon on the street. Since their arms were full, several items spilled out from the bags and onto the ground…

The MC was quick to apologize to the demon and try to get down to clean the mess, but the asshole just kept walking… and Beel really didn't like that.

Beel: "Hey! Aren't you going to say, 'Sorry?'"

The lesser demon hardly looked over his shoulder to respond.

Lesser Demon: "Why should I? That's your human. Take care of them yourself."

Well it didn't take long for some of Beel's bags to hit the floor so he could lift the demon up by the back of the neck properly. When he turned the guy to face him, he made sure to bring his face reeaal close so he could hear him growl...

Beel: "Apologize. Or I'll eat you."

And like that, the asshole's mood went from "Do it yourself," to "Yessir Mr. Beelzebub, sir!" right quick!

The MC didn't have to carry a single bag another step and Beel got to keep his free hand so he could link it with theirs!... all while Beel kept mushing their new pack-mule forward like a sled dog back to the House. Thanks, Beel! 😊

Belphegor 

Kind of similar to Asmo, Belphie prefers to come off as unassuming on most days. But don't let his, "I'm a harmless sleepy boy" shtick fool you. He will cut a bitch if he's so motivated...

Thankfully for the world, he's generally not motivated. But that can be changed under the right circumstances...

Belphie and the MC were on yet another date to the botanical gardens. It's a peaceful place, though the MC can never go alone because of the frankly concerning amount of flesh-eating plants… Pretty, but also deadly, you know?

The two of them were walking to another rest spot when Belphie heard whispering from a demon behind them, seemingly on his phone…

Lesser Demon: “Yeah, I can see them right now…”

Lesser Demon: “I know right? It's so lame that these guys are in charge of us… They can't even say no to a dumb human!”

Lesser Demon: “What do you mean keep my voice down? Dude, it's fine! This is Belphegor we're talking about, the hell is he going to do if he hears me?”

… Huh.

The answer to the man's question was a simple one. Flash into his demon form for just a moment and whip out his tail... It only took a quick swipe to make him trip and fall right into the foliage. The man-eating… carnivorous… hungry… foliage….

Belphie was back to normal by the time the jerk let out his first scream and the MC almost stopped to see what had happened.

MC: "What the-oh my God!! Should we help-??”

Belphie: *puts his hands on their shoulders to keep them moving, not even glancing back* “Someone else will take care of it. Let's see the roses.”

Even when the desperate cries for help became distant, it took all Belphie had to stifle a smile…

Sometimes, you've got to love irony. 🤷‍♀️😏

[v-hope]

Sweet Night

Pairing: Artist!Taehyung x Heiress!Reader, Heir!OC x Reader

Genre: Fluff (yes, only fluff today, enjoy), Ex Roommates AU, Enemies to Lovers AU, Arranged Marriage (Heir!OC x Reader)

Word Count: 4.8k

Summary: Neither you nor Taehyung were expecting you to show up to his art exhibition, let alone when everyone was already gone, for the two of you were well aware that you didn’t have much of a choice when it came to attending your possible future husband’s charity event instead. Then again, neither of you were counting on your brother and sister in law to take your side and drive you all the way over to him so you could surprise him before the day was over.

A/N: Helloo! This is part 24 of my Social Media AU “Belong”, but you can read it as a stand-alone one shot if you want! I would like to make a shout out to my 🇫🇮 anon for giving me the Jimin idea (you know which one, I changed it a bit to make it fit the story better, but still). I hope you guys enjoy!

Looking away from the backseat’s window, your eyes focused on your trembling hands instead — the city lights as you passed them by being the only source of light as your brother drove through the streets of Seoul, which for some reason seemed to be extremely long that particular night.

The light music Miyoung had taken upon playing on the radio from the passenger seat, in an attempt to create a somewhat calm atmosphere for you and the nervousness she was sure you were feeling, had yet to make you actually calm down. If anything, you could feel your shaky hands become sweatier by the second as you felt a tingle of anticipation in your chest.

Although you wanted with everything in you to attend Taehyung’s art exhibition, you had got out of bed that morning being mentally prepared to spend the entire day at the Lee’s charity event.

You had been ready to spend most of the day with your parents pretending that everything in your relationship was alright, perfect even. You had been smiling for the cameras all day, greeting people you were sure were just pretending to have the perfect life as well, and being forced to make small talk with the ones who used to be your friends yet had turned their back on you as soon as they had found out you were choosing a more modest life over the luxurious one — the same so called friends of yours that had to keep quiet about your little secret if they didn’t want your parents to destroy their family’s business. After all, your family was with no doubt the most powerful one in Korea. And honestly? You couldn’t help but see it now as a curse, after having spent a lifetime believing it was a gift.

Not only that, but you had also spent most of the day next to Sungjin, lovingly posing for the cameras and holding hands, making you wish every single second it was Taehyung instead. You were sure that way it would’ve been more bearable. What you hated the most was the fact that you knew said pictures were being posted right away, meaning Taehyung would see them, and you hated the utter thought of having the man you had feelings for see you acting like a happy couple with someone else — even more after you had to cancel on him to attend an event with the one guy he had asked you not to bring with you to his art exhibition to begin with.

And yet, after having to endure all of that, here you were — a little over an hour after Taehyung’s exhibit was done, being driven over there by your brother and sister in law, while Jimin held him back at the gallery, and you not even knowing what you were supposed to say at all once you saw him. You couldn’t help but wonder if maybe this whole impromptu apparition of yours was a good idea at all. It had been a long day for him, you knew that for sure, and although he had told you earlier that day that he would’ve loved to have you there, maybe by this point he just wanted to go home and get some rest.

You didn’t have much more time to think about that, though, for just as you remained deep in your thoughts, Seokjin pulled up right in front of the address you had given him before. Looking up from your fidgeting hands, you were met by two pairs of eyes already focused on you.

“Do you want us to go with you?” Seokjin asked, hand on his keys, ready to pull them out at your command.

“Um…” you hesitated, leaning closer to the window as your eyes travelled around the rather isolated street in search of any paparazzis, finding yourself to be quite relieved when you saw none of them around. “Maybe just until I find Tae”.

They nodded, exchanging one last look before they made their way out of the car right as you did. Feeling the cold breeze of the night as soon as you closed the door behind you, you couldn’t help but hug yourself, sticking close to Jin and Miyoung as if you were a kid heading to school with her parents after being called by the principal.

Right as you were about to reach the entrance, however, Yoongi made his way out of the building, looking the other way before his eyes fell on all three of you.

“Hey,” he greeted, politely bowing his head, which you didn’t wait to reciprocate. “I came to see if you were anywhere near, Jimin is going crazy trying to come up with more excuses for Taehyung not to leave”.

You chuckled at his comment, imagining just how troubled your friend must have been. After all, and to be fair, you had taken a good while to get there. “Well, I’m here now”.

“That I can see” he sarcastically replied, eyes travelling from you to Seokjin, and then focusing on Miyoung. “Are you all coming in?” his eyes went back to you.

“Is it just the three of you inside?” your brother spoke up before you could nod. As far as he had understood, it should have been only Jimin and Taehyung inside.

“Oh, no” Yoongi denied. “Namjoon-ie is with us, too”.

“Namjoon?” Miyoung wondered, puzzled eyes going up to your brother. Given her reaction, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe she knew what the rest of you didn’t when it came to those two.

Seokjin bit the inside of his cheek, giving her a knowing look before his eyes went back to Yoongi. “Actually, I, um… I just remembered Miyoung-ie and I have things to do, so…”

Although your sister in law looked troubled for a split second there, she wasted no time in nodding her head. Looking at Yoongi, she struggled to get the words out of her mouth. “W-We do! So, um…” her eyes focused on you. “We should probably leave. Is it okay?”

“Sure…”

“You’ll be okay?” she pushed it, earning a small laugh from you over his motherly ways.

“She’s in good hands” Yoongi reassured her, receiving a genuine smile from her that only caused his lips to part into one of his own as well.

“Okay” she sweetly replied, giving him a small nod as a sign of gratitude.

Seokjin playfully nudged her, grabbing her hand so the whole marriage thing could at least be a little bit more believable. “Shall we go then?”

“Mhm…” she replied.

“Call me when you’re done here” your brother demanded.

“Oh, I’m sure Taehyung will drive her home” Yoongi’s words got chills running up your spine.

“Okay,” Jin’s eyes travelled from Yoongi to you. “Call me when you’re home then”.

“I will” you obediently complied.

With that said, your brother and sister in law turned around, leaving you alone with Yoongi, who didn’t wait to motion towards the door for you to go inside.

“After you” he politely said.

You smiled, taking in a shaky breath before you took a step in. Suddenly all the nervousness you had felt on your way here came right back to hit you in the face, not knowing at all what to do once you were in front of the guy you had ditched the Lee’s event for — not even knowing how he would react at all, yet hoping he would be happy to have you there.

You didn’t get too much time to mentally prepare, for as soon as you entered the place being followed by Yoongi, you caught a glimpse of the backs of the other three men inside as they faced one of the many paintings that brought some life to the neutral white covering every single wall of the gallery. And it was a matter of you taking a few steps towards them for three pairs of eyes to be set on you. However, yours were only focused on one particular pair of them — those chocolate ones that displayed a mixture of surprise and pure happiness in them.

“You’re here?” Taehyung asked the obvious once you reached their side, causing his friends to chuckle in amusement.

“Seems like it…” you nervously managed to get out.

Silence took over as big smiles were plastered all over your faces — on yours and Taehyung’s, as the two of you were happy as hell to see each other, and on his friends, for they were having a blast watching the two of you awkwardly stand in front of one another with those dumb smiles of yours, not knowing what to do next.

“Come on,” Jimin chimed in, placing his hand behind your back and lightly pushing you towards Tae. “Your girl fooled her parents into coming here, the least she deserves is a hug”.

With a giggle escaping Tae’s mouth, he didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you when your body was about to collide with his. Feeling your heart going wild at the warmness of his touch, you wrapped your arms around his waist as well, resting your face on his chest and taking in his scent right as he lowered his head just enough to bury it in your neck.

“Thank you for coming” he mumbled.

A light chuckle abandoned your mouth, deciding to say nothing and instead just nod your head and wrap your arms tighter around his figure.

“Okay, I think this is our cue to go” Namjoon’s voice broke the comfortable silence you had fallen into.

“Yup” Yoongi agreed, patting Jimin’s back to catch his attention, as he was shamelessly taking pictures of the two of you to remember the moment his friends somewhat got together. “Let’s give the love birds some privacy”.

Nodding his head, Jimin shoved his phone back into his pocket — neither of them bothering to say goodbye not to kill the moment the two of you were sharing, and just quietly leaving the gallery instead.

Once you heard the front doors being closed, Taehyung pulled away, cupping your face in his warm hands and smiling at the sight of you. “I never thought seeing you would make me this happy”.

“Yah, Kim Taehyung” you called him out. “I’m sure you can be sweeter than that”.

He chuckled, rolling his eyes at how spoiled you had become when it came to him and his show of affection. “I’m happy you’re here, princess”.

You smiled, resting your hands over his and drawing small circles with your thumbs on his skin. “I’m happy I’m here”.

His smile turned sweeter somehow, lightly pressing his forehead on yours before a chuckle escaped his mouth and he amusedly shook his head.

“What is it?” you wondered.

“Nothing,” he laughed, pulling away and letting go of your face. “It just makes sense now why the guys were trying so hard to keep me here. Specially Jimin”.

“Was he losing it?” you laughed.

“Totally” he nodded. “He made me go over the whole exhibition again and explain each one of my paintings at least twice to him” his eyes travelled to one particular spot on the wall right next to the painting they had been admiring when you walked in. “When he ran out of pieces to ask me about he pointed at this small crack on the wall and asked me how I had come up with such a deep concept”.

This time, you couldn’t help but tilt your head back as a throaty laugh escaped your mouth — one that had Taehyung giggling, absolutely loving the sound of your laugh.

“He’s an idiot” you stated. “But he kept you here for me, so…”

“That he did” he smiled, biting his bottom lip as his eyes unconsciously travelled down your body — that pink dress of yours sure did look even better in person. “Aren’t you cold?”

Your eyes instinctively went down to your uncovered legs and then to your uncovered arms, remembering how you had hugged yourself outside minutes ago because of the cold air of the night. “It’s alright in here”.

He nodded his head. “My coat is by the entrance, in case you get too cold”.

You smiled sweetly, yet it didn’t wait to turn into what seemed more like a teasing smirk. “So you told me earlier today that you wished you had got to see me in this dress and now you want to cover it up?”

Taehyung rolled his eyes in amusement. “Don’t get me wrong, princess. I already told you I think you look beautiful and am most definitely enjoying the view right now” his bold words brought heat to your face. “I’m just looking after you”.

“How sweet of you” your sarcastic tone didn’t really match your flustered expression. “I’m okay for now. Will let you enjoy the view for a little longer”.

“How considerate of you” he was quick to follow your sarcastic antics, silently enjoying that particular choice of yours.

“I know, no need to say it” you playfully squinted your eyes at him, later taking a look at the whole gallery. “You think you could show me around?”

He nodded, a bright smile already taking over his face. “It will be my pleasure” his dramatism got a playful roll of eyes from you. “Where would you like to start?”

“This one is alright” you pointed out, moving closer to the painting you already had in front. “So,” you began, eyes tauntingly going to the crack next to his painting. “Tell me about how you came up with such a deep concept”.

“Shut up” he amusedly rolled his eyes.

“No, but seriously now” you smiled, this time staring at the piece of art in front of you. “Tell me about this one”.

Taehyung’s art, you had found out quite a while ago, tended to be on the abstract side. Therefore, it was even harder for you —or anyone for that matter— to interpret.

This one piece, just like the tag placed above it on the wall let you know, was called ‘Winter Bear’. You could clearly see the winter, the palette of colours he had used just screamed cold days and melancholy. Nevertheless, the bear mentioned in the title was nowhere to be found in the painting — instead, you managed to tell apart what you thought was a little boy, somewhat hidden in between all the colourful strokes surrounding his figure.

“That’s me” he pointed out when he could no longer deal with the confusion in your face, managing to draw your attention back to him.

“What?” your bottom lip stuck out in a pout. “What is the word ‘bear’ doing in the title then?”

He chuckled. “It’s art, you dork. You can name it anything you want”.

“I think it must mean something, though…”

Taehyung bit his bottom lip. Of course you would know better.

“That’s what my grandparents used to call me” he confessed.

You nodded quietly, understandingly — not really knowing what to say yet not wanting to stay silent. “You must miss them so much…”

“Sometimes,” he nodded. “I mean, not a day goes by in which I don’t miss them, it’s just that… it’s been years so… you kinda grow used to it” his shoulders moved up and down, in a shrug that tried not to make it seem like a big deal. “The whole exhibit was related to winter, so it naturally reminded me of them and how they used to call me, and… I guess I got too personal with this exhibition”.

You gave him a sweet smile of reassurance, reaching for his hand and holding it in yours. “It’s your art. It’s supposed to be personal”.

The boxy smile that he gave you right then was all it took for your heart to skip a beat, later taking in a shaky breath when he intertwined his long fingers with yours and his thumb drew small circles on the back of your hand.

Your eyes went back to the painting in front, trying your best not to let him know what his touch did to you. “I love it” you stated, much to his pleasure. “Love the way it seems to make no sense when you only read the title, yet it makes complete sense after you explain it”.

He smiled wholeheartedly. “I think it just makes no sense” his words had you furrowing your eyebrows in confusion. “Not everyone is lucky enough to know the true meaning behind it”.

You giggled. “Lucky me then”.

“Lucky you” he agreed.

Tugging at his hand, you moved on to the next painting, and then the next one, and so on. Not a second had gone by in which you had let go of each other’s hand as you commented on the different paintings and the meanings behind each of them — the two of you finding yourselves having the time of your lives as you gave him your take on them and he confirmed whether or not it was what he had tried to portray.

That was what each of you liked about art so much, the fact that there was no wrong answer and you could discuss it so freely. Sure, he had something in mind the moment he painted each one of his pieces, but it was always fun to see what the rest of the people would feel when they looked at them.

And, for some reason, it was particularly enjoyable to him when it came to discussing art with you. So he had found out back when he invited you to one of his friend’s exhibits. It was different than talking about it with his friends, and he didn’t know if it was the fact that, unlike them, you actually knew about art, or just the fact that it was you.

Maybe both.

Tightening your hold on his hand when there were only four more artworks left, you moved on to the next one, having your jaw drop at the sight of it.

“Hey, this is the one I fixed” you blurted out in both surprise and excitement, unconsciously moving closer to it and dragging Taehyung with you so you could appreciate it better.

Although you were excited to see it there, you couldn’t help but feel your face heat up at the memories it brought back — the fact that you had collided with it and spilled coffee on it, still being both upsetting and embarrassing as hell.

You remembered quite well the way you had ran out in search of an art shop to find the necessary supplies to fix it before Taehyung could get home. Maybe you should have been faster. Not like that would’ve been of too much help, though, for whether you wanted to admit it to yourself or not, you knew very well he would’ve noticed something was off with his newest creation right away.

Looking at the different shades of blue and touches of yellow right then brought you back to that night you pulled an all-nighter, meticulously trying to recreate his painting — the hardest part being that you had only got to see it for a split second before the coffee that used to be on your —by then— broken mug had ruined it. You could only be thankful that it had been just a particular part of the painting and not all of it.

Staring into the picture, you had to stop yourself from reaching your hand out to it and trace your fingers over the pair of eyes you could tell apart in yet another one of his abstract works. You had not truly paid attention to them that one night you spent in Taehyung’s living room fixing his painting, for you had been way too invested in the details you had ruined. And you couldn’t help but feel relieved over the fact that the hot liquid had not touched the eyes he had so perfectly portrayed, for although they looked quite familiar somehow, you weren’t sure you would have been able to do any justice to them.

“I didn’t think you were actually displaying it” you mumbled after a few seconds, eyes still fixed on the painting.

“Why wouldn’t I?” he cocked one of his eyebrows. “Not to be that guy, but it’s quite good”.

“Yes,” you agreed in a heartbeat. “But you can tell one part of it is quite different to the rest of it”.

“You did a good job fixing it, princess” he recognized. “No one could really tell the difference”.

“I can tell” you mumbled.

Taehyung laughed under his breath. “Will you just look up to its title?”

Doing as told out of curiosity, your eyes darted up in a heartbeat — feeling them well up with tears when you read what the label above the artwork said.

“Sweet Night”, ft. Ariel.

Looking up to hold back the tears you felt so dumb for even having in the first place, you shook your head as the corners of your lips curved slightly up. “You did not just credit me after being the one to ruin it to begin with”.

“Hey, I wasn’t taking full credit over something I didn’t completely paint” he stated. “Plus, it’s smart, don’t you think? No one will ever know this Ariel person is no other than the infamous Kim Y/N”.

“You really didn’t have to…”

“I wanted to” he stated.

You bit your bottom lip, no longer being able to hold back your smile and letting it part your lips like it had been threatening to. Taehyung couldn’t help but laugh under his breath over how adorable he thought you were, not even dreaming of stopping himself when he let go of your hand and placed his arm over your shoulders instead, pulling you closer to him as the two of you stared into the artwork in front.

“Why ‘Sweet Night’?” you wondered, leaning your head on his body.

He shrugged. “It’s silly”.

“Come onnn,” you pouted, pulling slightly away so you could look at him. “Out of all the paintings here, you can’t leave out the explanation to this particular one”.

Taehyung sighed, knowing well enough that, one, you were right, and, two, you were not letting this go until he told you.

“It was inspired by that one night I came home to you and Sungjin” he said rather bitterly, remembering pretty well how he had not been fazed at all by the fact that you and said guy had obviously been making out right before, yet feeling his blood boil at the mere thought of it now. “We stayed up late eating lots and lots of sweet popcorn because I had way too many of them and you became addicted to them and how well they went with wine” a small laugh escaped his mouth at the memory. “So I just went with that. Plus, you were being really sweet that night and it was the first time I got to see that side of you, so…”

“That is really sweet” you mumbled, feeling the heat reach your cheeks.

“Don’t” he pleaded.

You laughed. “It truly is sweet, Vante” the way your eyes had softened at the sight of him, had his heart skipping a beat. “What do the eyes mean, though?”

“You just want to torture me by now” he called you out.

“I’m just asking!” you defended yourself with a giggle.

Taehyung rolled his eyes, feeling the heat reach his face as he intently focused on the painting, evading your eyes as he spoke.

“I’ve never been a fan of people having their full attention on me, I don’t like being the center of attention… I mean, I told you today how I was not looking forward to the moment I would have to give a speech in front of all my guests” you nodded, remembering how you had tried to cheer him up when it came to that. “So I don’t really talk about my art… or about art in general, to anyone. I just show it to them and let them interpret it, that’s what art is about, after all. But that one night you asked me a lot about my art and I actually felt like talking about it with you, and I remember the way your eyes were fixed on me almost as if you were scared you would miss some kind of important detail,” he laughed lightly. “And for the first time I liked the attention. I guess that inspired me enough to paint this”.

“So those are my eyes?” you asked.

He shrugged. “It’s up for interpretation”.

You shook your head in amusement, staring down as you felt your face burning. “You’re the worst”.

Taehyung chuckled, pulling you closer to him with the arm that was still around your shoulders, and using his free hand to place two fingers under your chin and make you look up at him. “Am I now?”

You felt your breathing become heavier the second his nose faintly bumped on yours — his lips only centimeters away from your anticipating ones. Too intimidated by him right then, knowing well enough he had you wrapped around his finger, you managed to shake your head no to answer his question, without taking your eyes away from his for even a second. Or well, that until his chocolate ones travelled down to your mouth.

Staring down into his tempting lips as they slowly came closer to yours, you looked up to his eyes for a split second, just enough to catch a glimpse of the way his remained fixed on your mouth. And then, you saw nothing — eyes instinctively closing when his lips softly trapped your bottom one.

Just one touch of his lips made you wonder how you had managed to go on all these weeks without getting a taste of them again.

“I thought you didn’t do this whole ‘friends with benefits’ thing?” you whispered against his lips, opening your eyes to find his dark ones already fixed on you.

A small, breathy laugh escaped his mouth, leaning in so it would faintly brush against yours. “I’m not kissing you as a friend”.

Your lips parted into a smile, not letting another second go by before you pressed your lips to his, making him smile and cup your face in his hands just like he had done weeks ago with the intention of deepening the kiss.

With your arms wrapping around his neck, you pulled him closer to your body, letting go of the kiss for a second to catch your breath and having him take advantage of your slightly open mouth to trap your bottom lip in his eager ones again, this time tracing his tongue over it and slipping it inside your still open mouth — meeting your awaiting one in the middle just the way he wanted.

Letting go of your face, one of his hands travelled down to your lower back so he could feel you even closer, fingers tracing their way down your bare arms as he did so, and feeling goosebumps form on your skin.

“You’re cold?” he asked, taking one second to catch his breath before his wet lips were back on yours.

You shook your head no, a small, shy laugh escaping your mouth. “I didn’t get chills because I’m cold”.

Taehyung bit his lip, feeling the corners of his mouth curving up and pressing one last kiss to your lips before finally pulling away from you as his eyes were intently fixed on yours.

“I will keep my coat to myself then” he teased you.

“Nope,” you were quick to deny. “I am taking you up on the coat offer when we leave”.

“Okay” he laughed lightly, the hand that was still on your face travelling down your arm to intertwine his fingers with yours. “Shall we go?”

You shook your head no quite effusively. “We’re not done with the exhibit yet!”

“I’m hungry, let’s go eat something” Taehyung whined. “We can come back some other day”.

“Yah,” you called him out. “I came all the way here just to see your artworks”.

Your words earned a somewhat bitter pout from him. “Thought you had come all the way over here to see me”.

You couldn’t help but let out a chuckle at that, tugging on his hand to pull him closer, and then making him replace said pout with a smile when you pressed two chaste kisses to his mouth. “It was implicit” your teasing words had him rolling his eyes. “We only have three more to go and then I’m all yours”.

He smirked, pulling you with him to the next piece. “I like the sound of that”.

“I meant it as in, then we can go get some food” you mumbled, feeling your face burning for what felt like the millionth time that night.

“I know” he pecked your lips. “Doesn’t change that I enjoy the sound of that”.

[blissfulparker]

Seasick pt. 10 final→college!peter parker

Pairings→college!peter x reader fake dating!au

Summary→ You need a fake boyfriend, peter has no plans for the summer, you take him on a cruise to meet your nasty family you kept a secret all these years. Faking your love as far as it will go before it snaps and it shows it’s true colors to one another under the burning hot sun and above the salty sea water

A/n→yeah so y’all can shut talk me for this taking literally FOREVER but I kept wanting to redo it and I finally found the perfect final for it(at least for me) I’m going to make the epilogue and if anyone wants blurbs based off it I can write it. But I present to you, the seasick final

Peter Parker slept like an Angel and you had never truly noticed until now. He had soft snores and little freckles painted on his face and he was yours, now he was officially yours and all it took was you begging him to come on a stupid cruise with your family you hate.

Although you wouldn’t mind if year after year you were able to bring peter along with you. He helped with the pain and god did you need all the help you could get.

“What are you doing?” He mumbles as he starts to wake up, not opening his eyes but his senses catch you staring.

“Nothing.” You smile as you only stare harder to count each freckle—even the new ones he got from this trip.

“No you’re doing something.” He opens his eyes just a bit to see you with the faintest smile on your face. You, the one who woke up every day of this trip dreading what another day would be like, smiled at him. A genuine smile as you woke up.

“Seriously, nothing!” You try to hide the smile that grows big on your face and he only grabs you by the waist, pulling you in close so he can tickle at your sides just to see you smile more.

He lets your laughs die down, seeing the real you in the morning was something so fresh to him, he loved it. You were his girlfriend. He couldn’t wait to go home and start saying that to people. After all these years all it took was a stupid cruise.

“It’s our last day.” Peter says and suddenly your smile dropped. Not because you were sad, because it was your last day and that meant having to spend it with your family.

“Right.” You sigh falling back on the pillow.

Peter looked at you like you were art, or maybe he looked at you the way he looked at the beach the other day, maybe he looked at you the way he saw you in the art gallery the second day or maybe he looked at you the way he looked at you the first day he got on this damn ship and you wore the most beautiful dress and worried about how tall you were. No matter how he looked at you it was just you, you who matter the most to him in this moment and truly every moment before.

“For as much as you hate this family, I actually kinda liked this trip.” That was particularly true, he hated being uncomfortable at dinner and your mom dropping off condoms but he was on a cruise for fucks sake and it was free.

“Peter, when was the last time you even had a vacation?” You looked over at him. Realizing your words were much harsher, you took a step back. “Sorry, I’m still...I’m still trying to get use to everything.” You admitted and he nodded.

“It’s okay,” he only planted a kiss on your cheek before sitting up. “I know.”

He sits up at the edge of the bed. Stretching a bit giving you a full view of his bare back, so toned and smooth, you really wanted to know when he got so ripped but that was a question for later. All you could do now was feel your hand move to run over the smooth of his back. You sit up as well, letting yourself sit before his back and press sweet kisses gently at his shoulders.

“Y-Your mom.” Was what he said as you kissed him. “She wants to have lunch.” He already saw the messages, last night when you were fast asleep. Face puffy from crying, he held onto you but his phone lit up with one message from your mom. The number she got from him at the beginning of this trip where you swore it would make everything more realistic to pretend you cared.

“Just tell her we’re busy.” You continue kissing at his sunburnt shoulders and in a way it hurt but felt so good to him.

He couldn’t change anything, what you had grown up with was irreversible. But peter had seen the real you, known the real you to be beyond what your family was. He knew you would be opposed to what he was going to tell you but he only wanted to help you.

“With just me.” He turned his head and you stopped your movements.

“Just you?” You furrow your brows and he nodded.

“Yeah, just me.” He sighed and you sat back a bit on the bed.

“Just tell her we already have—“ you started but peter shook his head.

“I think I should go. I-I know I can’t change anything but at least I can—“ he starts and you feel your heart race and your blood burn.

“You're right Peter, you can’t change anything. She’s an evil woman and I thought you would already have figured that out by now. Your smart, you should be smart enough to know that she doesn’t want to fix anything. When we go back in New York everything will be the same.” You fell back against the headboard and peter turned fully to you.

“But everything won’t be the same, at least we won’t be the same!” He told you and you looked at him quickly with a sigh.

“Peter I didn’t mean that way and you know it.” You feel your hands run over your face before you grab your water.

“I’m having lunch with your mother.” He said. He marked his words in the moment and you knew Peter could be stubborn and this was one of those moments.

“Peter…” you want to fight but your hand goes over the bracelet you both got the other day from the locals down by the beach. You remember as a kid, you wished one day it would be you getting those bracelets even if it was just a few pieces of string tied together. Those kids were always harmless and knew love when they saw it, maybe you and peter were still faking it in the moment but they saw more than the two of you ever did. “Just hold me.” You almost whisper and he looks at you with pain in his eyes.

“Hold me like you did in the ocean the other day.” You look up with water in your eyes and he does. His arms come around your back and he holds you as if you two were still in the ocean as if nothing else mattered in the world to you two.

-

You dressed Peter for lunch. You had torn apart his suitcase telling him that if he was going out there alone he needed to be prepared. For it was your mother, One may argue Thor’s evil brother was nicer than her.

So Peter tugged a bit at the buttons and waited near the entrance for your mother to arrive. He had fought aliens, witches, and even drones over one summer but feared a tiny old women who was the mother of his girlfriend.

When she arrived she greeted him with a hug, a tight one that made him gasp for air when she pulled away and she left her glossy lip print on his cheek.

Peter wished you were here, honestly he did. Your mother was beautiful on the outside but he did see the inside. So when she ordered him a wine he swallowed hard and gave a tight lipped smile thinking of what you would do.

“Thank you for inviting me on this trip.” He started it off and your mother only drank from the glass of her wine.

“We can all thank (y/n) for inviting you.” She smiled but she knew something more. “When you two first arrived I always found it interesting how she told me a different story on the phone for how you fell in love but Europe huh? She loved that trip, until of course everything turned bad.” Your mother explained and Peter felt his heart flip.

“She says senior year chem class and I say Europe, she counts from when we first started talking I count our first date.” Peter chuckles.

“Peter, I’m a lawyer, I know when even the best liars are lying to me and you and my daughter are both extremely intelligent. So let’s just tell the truth, why did she invite you? Why did she tell me she had a boyfriend on the phone? I see you two do have something but it’s almost like you don’t want it, neither of you.” She for once had a soft voice. Peter for once drank alcohol on this trip to sooth his nerves but sadly the spider venom in his blood prevented him from ever being calm.

“I-we-“ he couldn’t think of anything else, he could only think of you sitting back at the hotel laying in the bath enjoying the last moments on this trip with someone you actually loved. “She loves you a lot.” He said flatly.

“Look,” he started. “Everything she has ever done in her entire life was to impress you. Every award, every medal, every achievement she’s made was in hopes to impress you weather it was through her intelligence or through how athletic she was and now it was through love. It was like i was her last hope, but you missed out so much on her life. I say that in the best way. MJ, Betty, Ned and I all showed her what it’s like to be loved and maybe that’s why she ran to us more but she also knew it was never enough for you. I had never seen her so scared, so alone when she brought me on this trip. And I don’t know if it’s just me but she’s already the perfect person in every single way. She doesn’t know what more you want, I don’t know what more you want.” Peter finished his rant, his heart pounding and his cheeks a bit red.

“For me? Everything she had ever done was for me?” Your mother asked as if she learnt this for the first time.

“Yes, and every time you never paid attention and that broke her a bit more.” The more peter talked the more Peter hurt.

“Peter, can I tell you something?” She folded her hands and leant in. “You’re a smart, charming man. My daughter is a smart and charming lady. I don’t know if this entire time you two were really faking it, I could tell at first, trust me everyone could, but I want you to know she never smiled this much on this trip ever. And I don’t know what I’m doing so wrong when I try—“ peter felt his blood boil a bit at the last sentence.

“Be her mother, not her best friend. She wants a mother. She has MJ as a best friend who sometimes acts like more of a mother to her than you and (y/n) is three months older than MJ.” Peter didn’t break the stare as your mom looked at him in shock.

“All I want, because she will hate me more if I argue, is that you make her happy.” She sighed. Peter nodded.

The two of them are in silence, the last day on the cruise and peter was eating in silence with your mother after practically telling her how shitty she was.

After the check and your mothers hug goodbye, peter was back walking up to your room. Hoping he wouldn’t see anything more as he just wanted to relax. Maybe today he’d finally get that mug for May that he lied about but god felt so guilty. He lied about bigger things but the ones he loved...he had no idea how you did it. But you never lied to Peter, keeping him from the truth and lying were different.

“And he’s a really good kisser…” he stopped before he opened the door. He could hear you giggling on the phone with who he assumed MJ and Betty but more likely Betty.

“I just...I don’t know if I deserve him, I mean...he’s so kind and sweet and he’s peter.” There was a pause as Peter listened. “No flaws, he’s a shitty painter but I think it’s cute.” You giggled before taking a deep breath. He couldn’t hear the words on the other side before he heard you speak your goodbyes and ‘I love yous’ to them.

He waits until you seem to be settled down, he opens the door and reveals you on the floor painting your toes.

“Hey,” you look up at him with a smile. “How was lunch with my mom?” You asked and he only shrugged. Something washed over him and compelled him to sit next to you and kiss your cheek.

“Was fine, I drank a lot of wine but it was fine.” He shrugged and you looked up with a smirk.

“So I’m getting drunk Peter right now?” You teased and he shook his head.

“No, no.” He watched as you painted with the color blue. “She said she’s proud of you.” He admits. Never directly did she say the words but he knew deep down she wanted to but didn’t know how.

You look at him with a stare, knowing he was lying but he was trying for you.

With the silence in the room, peter gets up from his spot and walks over to pack some of the last of his things. By tomorrow morning you would say your goodbyes to your family and head back to New York. Back to your friends and family. You would stay with MJ for the summer but hopefully, with the new relationship, peter could convince you to stay with him and May.

“Hey Peter,” you look over your shoulder. “Thank you.” You tell him. Not sure if you ever told him thank you before this.

“For what?” He folds some of his clothes and puts them back into the suitcase.

“For everything.” You smile before going back to painting your toes.

Peter has a small smile. He nods as he throws the shirt into the suitcase.

“(Y/n)?” He calls to you this time. “Thank you for choosing me. To bring on this trip I mean.” He says awkwardly and you smiled.

“This was just year one Parker, get ready for the next couple ones!” You pretend to be enthusiastic but he only laughs. “Sorry we never got to do anything you wanted to do.” You apologized as you stood up. Looking down at the red painted toes and being careful to let them dry.

“No we did.” He smiled and you furrow your brows.

“Like what?”

“I was with you, that was something I wanted to do.” He was a dork in the best ways. He was your dork in the best of ways. You don’t think you had given this many genuine smiles while on this cruise ever.

“Hey,” you poked his shoulder. He hissed a bit as his sunburn still was there. “We can technically go to the couples pool, they’ll give us free chocolate strawberries. You wanna go?” You offer with a smirk. With all the things you’ve done pretending to be a couple this would be the first real couple thing you did.

“Hell yeah!” He says with a laugh and you do too.

So you get on your bathing suits one last time. One last time on this damned cruise would you put on your bathing suit and actually smile. Not drinking the last of your night away alone in your room.

Peter's arm snaked around your waist as you two walked down the hallway. Sharing laughs and you leaning against his shoulder as you two made your way to the pool where you would sit in a hot tube while eating cheap chocolate strawberries and drinking shitty wine.

While the bubbles roam around you in the hot tub and you and peter finally settle down with your laughs he only stares into your eyes.

“Hey.” Was all he said and you felt yourself feeling shy in front of him.

“Hi.” You said back and his lips connected with yours.

For a week straight of lying, tears and alcohol, and a shit ton of secrets getting exposed to each other. You and Peter made a pretty good couple. A couple that didn’t need to be faked anymore even if it made everyone sick, you found your love in the sea. You found him and he was perfect.

Seasick Taglist: @jackiehollanderr @itscaminow @just-a-little bit-of-everything @illicitparker @hotel-colson @peterparker2003 @silver-winter-wolf @mskathrinak @teen—marvel @teenwishes08 @rish0217 @j2supernatural@hollandprkr @applenter @p-nutbutters @popluckbih @homshufflepuff @hurricane-abigail @thechersupramacy @danicarosaline e @spideyyeet @lulueliot24

Permanent taglist: Permanent Taglist: @hoodiesparker @dahliaspidey y @parkersvibes @itssss-a-bean @ppkrtingle @myfinalwords @bocaul @tinyplanet-explorers @sincerlyfan @softbaby-tom @awesomeblackcottontail @rosebeegraham @stormyholland @unicorn-princess-1999 @spideyyypeter @marshyrebelcloud @oh-epiphany @yeahimcrying @highlydisfunctional1 @disgustangg @pterstingle @quacksonhq @starlightparker @reblogsfics @tomsrebeleyebrow @dreamyyholland @imaginashawnn s @alilpunkrock @peterspideysenses @lovely-valllll @lowkey-holland @hannaholland1811 @kthemarsian @maryjane23 @jillianaholland @dummiesshort t @paracutepants @heartofholland @quacksonhehe @tomhollandssecurityguard @th0ttie4tommy @ladykxxx08 @bellelittleoff @peterbenjiparker @cherthegoddess s @namoren o @sunsetholland d @lillatina004 @peterparkersbabygurl @augustdowney @a-daydreamers-day @spideyspeaches @sinisterspidey y @mathletemadison

[lovingrosewho]

Fake Dating (pt. 3)

Part 1 // Part 2

Here’s part 3! As usual, I hope you enjoy and any feedback is highly welcomed! 💕

MULTICHAPTER

Pairing: Crowley x Reader

Rating: T. More fluffy this time

Word count: 1.3k

Summary: Sam and Dean Winchester need your help with a case, which involves pretending to date the King of Hell.

Warnings: I think none, some cursing maybe

The evening goes as planned. You don’t talk much except for the occasional question directed at you, so you mostly dedicate to eat, report to Sam and Dean discreetly on your phone, smile, and squeeze Crowley’s hand under the table. He’s been a charm to be honest, his entrancing smile and deep chuckle could definitely make anyone fall for any lie, you’re not surprised he’s sold sin to saints for centuries.

It’s weirdly... easy, pretending to be a couple. And you’re astonished to see and listen just how much he knows about you just by indirect comments with the boys. Your favorite bands, your favorite color, he even knows you think roses are lame, and much deeper stuff, about your family, your past. It could be catalogued as weird, but thing is, it isn’t. It just seems normal. And truth be told, you know a lot about him as well. All those late nights doing research on the bunker’s library, on your own, with just the company of a single lamp and a pile of books, and him popping in, looking for the Winchester brothers, not realizing what time it was, trying to make just a little of small talk with you, it surely looks like you picked one or two things about him. It’s nice, not having to pretend to hate him for once, but quite the contrary, you can, for a few hours, let him peck you on the cheek and smile, or kiss each others hands, taking special care on the knuckles, running your fingers mindlessly on the surface of the skin of either your legs, palms or arms. Yes, it’s nice.

Now it’s been almost three hours and you think you’ll go crazy if you hear one more anecdote about some luxurious art gallery where rich people go to satisfy their ‘spiritual needs’.

“Excuse us but,” you say when they’re finished speaking “we should get going. You know, Queen and King of Hell and everything”.

Crowley’s eyes spark when you refer to yourself as the ‘Queen of Hell’.

“Of course!” the lady says in a tone you don’t quite like “But wouldn’t you prefer if we moved the party to our house?”

You consider the possibility for a second, if you could get there, perhaps you could help Sam and Dean too. You look at Crowley, who is watching you expectantly, waiting for your verdict. When he sees the silent sign for approval, makes an affirmative gesture.

Crowley pays the whole tab, which you’re certain wasn’t cheap, but he insists and doesn’t even let you nor your companions see the bill. Not that, being the King of Hell, matters a lot, apparently. You get going, driving along the shifters on an, also fancy, surely private, cab. The whole drive you don’t talk and you can barely look at Crowley, but his hand never leaves yours, and you’re relentless to let it go even if it seems, and probably is, wrong, given the facade is supposed to be over by now. He respects the silence filling the space, and keeps to himself any kind of comments he might have about the evening, or about you, conforming with watching you admire through the car window the few snow flakes that have started to fall from the sky.

About thirty minutes later, you arrive to a medium-sized house, considering you were expecting a mansion.

“What is this?” you ask quietly to Crowley.

“They’ve got plenty of houses all over the country, this one might just happen to be near, they move all the time” he explains in a shrug.

Even if Crowley’s explanation seems logical, you still have a bad feeling right in your gut, you take a firm grip at the silver blade you’re carrying to at least be prepared.

When you enter the household, the coziness of it immerses you; wooden floors and warm light surrounding you all of a sudden. You’re frankly impressed and glad to have left the luxurious side of it all back at the restaurant, but when you turn to Crowley, his face tells you something’s off.

“Everything alright?” you mutter closely to him.

“Yes, it just seems... weird. There’s no security system in this one and, one other minor detail, where are the Moose and Squirrel?” he mutters equally. Damn it. You forgot.

“Maybe they got the house wrong?” you keep speaking the same way, but the shifters interrupt you, conducting you to the living room, taking your coat off your hands and putting it on the rack. You obey, following carefully, looking for Sam and Dean on every corner, until they push a button at the side of the switch, hence you and Crowley are surrounded by metal walls, being left with only the center portion of the living room, meaning, just the sofa, a rug, and a lamp on top of the end table, the room being illuminated only by that single light, leaving you almost in gloom. You immediately take out your phone, but of course, it reads ‘no signal’.

“Ah” Crowley expresses “There’s the security system”.

You look at him in irony and turn to the nearest wall, punching it several times, like if it was gonna make a difference.

“You really thought we wouldn’t recognize a stupid hunter whore?” the shifters say through the wall.

“Bite me!” you scream, punching the metal again, taking your silver knife out and stabbing it too, only causing it to blend and almost break. You throw it furiously across the room and Crowley barely dodges it.

“Somebody’s got a temper” he mentions but regrets it the moment you storm towards him, ready to beat him too, he catches your fists in the air and backs you against the wall, his hot breath against your mouth “Easy there, love. I’m the last person you should be aiming your dandery nonsense to”.

“Really?!” you yell, liberating from his grip, not being able to control yourself “Cause it seems to me you set this all up and now you’re gonna snap someplace else and leave me all on my own!”

He rolls his eyes in a bored way.

“In case you haven’t noticed, which wouldn’t turn up as a surprise given the insane amount of anger you have in you as of now, there are devil traps right in this wall,” he starts pointing at the right one “and that other one”.

He’s right. The light makes it hard to perceive, but there are devil traps set with stainless steel all over the right and left walls.

“They’re not idiots, love” he tells you calmly “They know what they’re doing”.

“I should have known...” you say, more to yourself than to him.

“Kitten...”

“I should have fucking known. Fucking stupid. Flashed by the decor. Fuck!” you scream. Crowley comes up to you and engulfs you in a hug. You shake him off and walk a few steps away “Leave me alone”.

He looks in awe at you.

“You’re not about to behave like five hours ago, are you?” he exclaims, not exactly angry, but unsettled at the very least “Are you really going to pretend we didn’t share a moment back at the restaurant?”

“I said. Leave. Me. Alone” you repeat, going to the furthest corner of the room, sitting down and bringing your knees close to your chest. Crowley stares at you in disbelief.

“Suit yourself” he says, tone still calm but more severe.

A couple of hours pass. Room is still dim, the only light creates some harsh shadows and the temperature has started to drop since you’re in the middle of January. You can’t help the shivers, and the cold metal on your skin isn’t helping at all, but you’re too prideful to walk by the sofa, where Crowley is.

“Love...” he murmurs, trying to sound irritated still, watching you “You’re gonna freeze to death over there. Come here”.

You don’t make a single move, but are tempted to. Degrees keep lowering by the second, every time you exhale, a puff of steam comes out. Even thinking about a way out is becoming more and more difficult, with the lack of heat you’re unable to concentrate.

“Love?” Crowley calls again, this time there’s more concern in his voice. Your mind has started to drift, it feels as if any minute you were about to faint or quake uncontrollably. Lights begin to fade, Crowley’s voice too, your body seems to be shutting down to prevent you from going into shock from the unbearable cold.

Part 4

MASTERLIST // TAG LIST: @enby-thesbian (if you’d like to be tagged feel free to let me know! 💕)

[peaceoutofthepieces]

chapter 37

The Stars Look Very Different

Social Media AU

previous chapter

tag list: @yellowballoon @cleocc @ijzermanora @boldlydeepestcupcake @pduwd @notallthereyall @gingerhead007 @groeneweiden @nyttvera @painfully-oblivious @zoenneforever @curiouskopf @engelkeijsers @xiaomailab @honeyandsinn @lauren-bk @saraben00 @tailsbeth @boysrunaway @howlingsaturn @menamesniall

took a little longer than expected. sorry for any mistakes!

~^~

Robbe’s head had stopped spinning, now that he’d spent a while sitting down, and he almost mourned the loss of the haze. It had helped him in forgetting, for a little while, when everything was fuzzy around the edges. The spinning left an ache in its wake, and regret was slowly beginning to creep in. Robbe could hold his alcohol, and his stomach, at least, hadn’t been unsettled. But his throat and eyes felt dry and prickly and his hands held an irritating tremor. He wished he’d thought to buy a bottle of water. He didn’t have any money. He wished his phone hadn’t died so he would at least have some music. He didn’t have any earphones.

He rested his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, swallowing, wincing at the scratchiness of his throat. He sat with his coat tucked tightly around himself and his knees drawn up, forearms resting on them and hands dangling in the gap. He sat and closed his eyes and breathed and wanted to forget.

It was impossible. He hated it.

He drew his hands up and pressed the knuckles of his thumbs hard to his forehead, in a useless attempt to stave off his thoughts. He wished he had stayed at the party and drunk more, or smoked something. He wished he had never gone. He wanted to do something that would quiet his mind and set his heart racing instead. He didn’t even want to move.

The light pounding overhead also wasn’t helping his headache.

Overhead…in the gallery?

The pounding did, in fact, sound an awful lot like footsteps.

Or maybe it was just his head.

“Robbe!”

That seemed a little too loud to be in his head, but it had to be, because there was simply no other way. There was no way that what he was hearing was real. He didn’t want it to be.

There was no way Sander was really here.

“Robbe!”

The footsteps were definitely getting closer.

Robbe’s eyes went wide. He drew his knees to his chest. He sucked in his breath and held it. He was fine. He was imagining it. Even if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t be found in here. Sander wouldn’t put in that much energy. He didn’t want to see Robbe at all.

Why would he waste his time looking for him in a maze?

“Fuck, Robbe, are you here?”

They were on the same level now, definitely. Robbe slowly climbed to his feet.

“Robbe, please.”

The footsteps picked up again from where they had paused in the entrance, likely, and quickly grew closer. Robbe internally cursed and slinked farther into the maze. It didn’t matter if he was only imagining it. He was used to running from his own head.

And if it was real, then hiding was even more necessary.

Because why should he let Sander anywhere near him now?

Hadn’t it already been enough?

The footsteps paused, but Robbe barely noticed, simply kept going.

“Robbe, I can hear you.”

Robbe stilled. He squeezed his eyes shut and leaned against the wall next to him, thinking, hating his thoughts. His heart was throbbing. There was no way he could escape without leaving it to bleed out on the floor. He hated this, hated how weak he felt, hated how easy Sander made it, how he could bring him to nothing with just the sound of his voice and the knowledge of his proximity. Robbe couldn’t even see him and still he had to squeeze his eyes shut.

It wasn’t fair. He shouldn’t have been the one hiding. Cowering. Aching. He should have been the righteous one, angry, defiant, uncaring. It should have been Sander running from him, with his tail between his legs. It should have been Sander glued to the wall, holding his breath, as if preparing for a lash to the back.

Robbe should have been chasing him down. It shouldn’t have come to this.

Why had it come to this?

~^~

Sander’s hands trembled. His heart raced. His ears strained. He’d heard Robbe, he had, he was certain of it, especially when the noise stopped after he’d called him out. He knew he would be here. He should have known right away.

It was strange, for Sander, to walk through the many pieces of art and not see any of them. To scan his eyes around and take nothing in. To find it unimportant. His muse was absent, and that was enough to leave the vibrant setting colourless. There was no beauty when his heart wasn’t with it. There was no point.

That was how he’d felt, these past two weeks, after placing his heart in Robbe’s hands and running in the opposite direction.

He had been so stupid. So careless. He had made a mistake he wasn’t sure he could ever repay. He’d hurt Robbe under the guise of protecting him, when in truth he’d been protecting himself.

He’d left Robbe in the worst possible way, and he wasn’t about to do it again.

“I’m not going anywhere until I see you, Robbe. Please, just let me know you’re okay,” he begged, fruitlessly, knowing Robbe would never give in, would never give himself up, was too strong for it. It was one of the many reasons Sander loved him as much as he did.

It was odd, creeping through the space on his own when he wasn’t fueled by adrenaline, but worry, though love was still thread through both. He couldn’t take in the copious amounts of graffiti, either, not even the constellation piece he’d come to adore so much that he’d recreated it. He didn’t even see any of it. All his attention was focused on the pathway ahead of him, on the gaps branching off, looking for any hint or clue, any reassurance. He knew Robbe was here. He’d known as soon as he’d stumbled off his bike and grappled at the door to find the lock had already been picked and left open. It had been reassuring, the thought that Robbe was at least coherent enough to perform such a task, and it was worrying, because that meant he was entirely sober enough to remember how much he hated Sander.

He should have just given Jens and Lucas the address. He should have trusted them to make sure Robbe was safe and kept on his path of leaving the other boy alone. It must have been what Robbe would have preferred, by now.

No, Sander thought. You need to at least give him this. He’s here because of you. He deserves better. He has always deserved better.

Determination should have been enough.

And it was enough to find him.

Sander simply had to round the corner, and there he was.

Determination was not enough to tamp down the abrupt, overwhelming fear that overcame him.

“Robbe,” he said, and it was nothing more than a choked breath to the boy’s back, but it was enough. Robbe straightened, spine unfurling to give him his full height even as he remained pressed to the wall. He did not turn to Sander. His head didn’t even seem to consider it. He remained staring in the opposite direction, hand pressed to the wall, unmoving. Sander steeled himself, ignoring the rapid race of his pulse, and took a few steps forward, then on, around Robbe until he could stand in front of him. Finally face to face.

His breath caught. He was unsure what he had expected, but he found himself surprised to see Robbe so unchanged and entirely unfamiliar.

His eyes were still the same sweet brown. His lips were still soft and mildly chapped. His hair was still the same unruly mess of curls. His jacket was still the same familiar brown. He looked tired. His doe eyes were dull, complete with bags underneath, and his cheeks seemed hollow, his lips downturned. This wasn’t so unfamiliar. This was conceivable.

What gave Sander pause was the entire absence of emotion.

There were many times Robbe had looked at him, when he’d still seemed mysterious, and Sander had struggled to figure out what he was feeling. Robbe kept his heart safely tucked away in his chest, not visible to everyone, and Sander had gotten used to searching for more subtle signs.

But never, in any of their encounters thus far, had Sander ever looked at Robbe and deemed him cold.

Now, that seemed to have changed.

Sander deserved it. He knew he did.

It tore what was left of his heart to shreds.

“Robbe,” he repeated, equally as cracked, when their eyes finally met. He made the mistake, then, of reaching out.

Robbe flinched away before taking three entire steps back. “Don’t.”

His voice was almost as broken as Sander’s, barely more than a croak. But it was likely weakened by alcohol and disuse. Sander didn’t let himself believe that it was a glimpse of the emotion seeping through, because then he would let himself hope. Because whether it be hurt or mere anger, it meant, in some way, that Robbe hadn’t stopped caring.

“Sorry,” Sander whispered. Robbe was no longer looking at him, but a point over his shoulder. Sander leaned forward in preparation to take a step, and Robbe took another one back. Sander rooted himself to his spot. “Robbe, I’m so sorry.”

“What are you doing here?”

Cold.

Sander swallowed, licked his lips, tried to choose his words carefully. “Lucas texted me. You freaked them out, when you disappeared and they couldn’t find you. Lucas just asked me if I knew where you would be.”

“So why didn’t you tell him?”

Sander thought it probably wouldn’t work in his favour to tell Robbe that he’d been wondering the same thing. “I needed to see you myself. To know you were okay.”

Robbe scoffed, and then he was the one taking a step forward. Not, Sander knew, in an aching desire to be closer, but in a short burst of anger. “You wanted to know I was okay? You want to pretend you care about me now again, is that it?”

“Robbe, I never pretended to—“

“Don’t,” Robbe cut him off sharply. Sander noticed his chest was heaving, his breaths beginning to stutter. “Don’t lie to me anymore. They freaked you out, right? And you couldn’t stand the idea of being the bad guy, of feeling responsible, so you thought you’d play hero for them. As if they need you to prove anything. Well, bravo, Starman. Mission complete. You don’t need to worry.”

The words cut deep, as Sander assumed they were supposed to, but he couldn’t be entirely sure. It was clear, in fact, that Robbe probably thought they would glance off Sander entirely. That Sander didn’t care.

“I’m not lying. I’m not playing. I swear, Robbe. I am so sorry. But I didn’t lie about what you think. I didn’t lie about you.”

Robbe’s hands curled into his fists. His lips pursed tightly together.

He finally looked sad.

He looked, more than anything, like what he was. He was young, and small, and vulnerable, and scarred, and scared. Sander realised suddenly that he had always been all of those things—that the weight of the world on Robbe’s shoulder had never been placed there by Sander. He wasn’t holding it up for him. He wasn’t collapsing because of him.

But Sander had added to it, and he’d done so while thinking he was lessening the burden.

“Then what did you lie about, Sander? What did you mean? Why did you tell me that you…” Robbe trailed off, and Sander understood, with a pang, that he couldn’t say the word.

“I love you.”

Robbe’s eyes glistened. He slowly shook his head.

Sander chanced a step forward. Robbe remained where he was.

“I love you, Robbe,” Sander repeated, finding it easy. This wasn’t where he was lacking surety. He had known this long ago, he had known this before Robbe had known him, and he had never cast it in doubt. No matter what his mind told him, no matter what he let his parents believe, Sander knew this sole fact without a hint of doubt. The expanse and the strength of his feelings for Robbe could have never been fabricated, never a lie. Even Sander wasn’t capable of such artistry. “I meant it. I would never have said it if I didn’t. I meant it that day and long before that and I mean it now. I love you. I mean it.”

Robbe’s fists slowly unfurled. His lips had parted slightly, better to tremble, and Sander ached to brush his fingers over them and set them at ease beneath his own. He had always been better with touch. It was an artistic form much easier learnt than words.

But he knew there was a lingering bubble around Robbe that only a true explanation could hope to penetrate. He knew that it wasn’t easy, and he was going to have to learn fast.

“How do you expect me to believe you,” Robbe whispered, “when you said that only to suddenly act like I didn’t exist?”

Sander could answer that one. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t mean it. I wouldn’t have even known where to go. It killed me to do that, Robbe. It’s been killing me everyday.”

Robbe flitted his gaze aside, shaking his head and biting at his lip. It was strange to think Sander had already seen him cry and was now astonished at the possibility of tears. But the truth was, there was no one more expressive than Robbe, when he stopped hiding. There was nothing to stop every emotion from laying itself out on his face when he let it. When he gave in to it.

Sander found himself relieved that one of those times was now. It was dangerous, that relief.

He was letting himself hope.

“Then why…” Robbe started, trailed off, still shaking his head. “Sander, what happened? You asked me to forgive you. You begged me. You knew what you were doing.”

Sander nodded, ashamed. He’d know exactly what he was doing. Even before leaving Robbe’s arms that day in his appartment, he knew what he was doing. He knew he couldn’t come back.

But he couldn’t leave Robbe without telling him the truth. Without making sure he knew how Sander felt. He hadn’t thought about how much worse it would make things—how much more confusing it would be for Robbe. He’d thought, as it was clear to him, that it would be clear to the other boy as well. That he was doing this because he loved him. That it was never Robbe’s fault.

It was a smaller stupid mistake amongst the larger one. Sander was realising stupid mistakes were his habit.

“What happened?” Robbe pressed. “What did I do wrong?”

“Not you,” Sander shook his head, rapid and vehement. This was what he hadn’t wanted. He’d thought Robbe would simply blame and hate Sander. “You didn’t do anything. It’s—it’s me. It’s what’s wrong with me.”

Robbe’s brow furrowed, and then he took a cautious step forward. Sander refused to now be the one to move away, but he shrunk slightly. Robbe’s shoulders slumped. “What do you mean? Why won’t you just tell me? It’s not fair—“

“I’m bipolar.”

Robbe’s lips snapped shut. Sander forced himself not to look away as he stared. “What?”

There was no backing out now. Sander swallowed, and managed to straighten his spine, and resisted the urge to reach out. Robbe’s touch would have helped, would have soothed him exponentially. Sander ached for it often, but never quite as much as he did now. Now, when he was entirely undeserving. His hands hadn’t stopped shaking.

“I didn’t know how to tell you. Maybe I should have told you right away, but I–I couldn’t. I’m sorry.”

Robbe’s brows had knit together, his lips turned down in a frown. He reached a hand out then quickly dropped it back to his side. Sander’s body screamed. “You’re serious.”

Sander gave a small nod. He licked his lips at the realisation Robbe was still waiting—that he wasn’t going to demand answers or run away, but he was giving Sander time to explain on his own. Sander wasn’t sure where to start, but he supposed the best idea was to go from the beginning.

“I was only diagnosed this summer. Just before school. In July, I—I was feeling really good. I was so happy in myself. My art was flowing out of me. I had all these amazing ideas. I didn’t realise that I was starting to get annoying, that my parents, my friends thought I was being weird and I was just elated. I took a special interest in graffiti. I was seeing all these pieces around the city, and I thought, ‘I can do better than that’. So I tried to. I was going to do it on this big wall of an old warehouse, and I had a ladder and everything...and I fell. Not from that high, but it was just—it was so stupid. I broke my arm, and my hand. My parents didn’t really think anything of it, it was just ‘what were you thinking’ and ‘why didn’t you at least tell us’ and ‘you need to be more careful’. But I broke my hand. I suddenly couldn’t do the one thing I loved most, the one thing I had been spending all of my time on. And it felt like the end of the world. It was like, without even realising it, I’d only been getting out of bed to draw, and suddenly that reason was taken from me. I didn’t see the point anymore. It sounds ridiculous, I know, even I can see that now but at the time it—I think it was the last straw.”

Robbe, carefully, but without hesitance, reached out and took his hand. Sander’s breath hitches. Robbe gazed down at it as he ran his thumb over Sander’s knuckles, then the slight, barely-noticeable crook of his ring finger. He looked back up at Sander, and their eyes met, and Sander was suddenly—and relievingly—flooded with a familiar warmth.

“At first, it still seemed fine, from the outside. I didn’t have many friends, just Lucas and Noor, and they had their own lives and I wasn’t spending much time with them anyway. My hobby was gone. It was summer, I had nothing to do. It wasn’t concerning when I spent that first whole day in my bed. It was a little strange that I didn’t want to eat, but I was grumpy teenager sulking because he had messed up. Then after three days, it suddenly didn’t seem normal, and after a week, my mother was almost crying trying to get me to eat, and they forced me to go see someone. Then suddenly I had all this medication and a therapy appointment and everyone staring at me like I was pitiful. And I didn’t want it. It terrified me. I’d always known that I—that sometimes I had these thoughts that were darker than they should have been and that I got in these low moods but it was never…”

He lost his rhythm, his next breath shaking, and Robbe gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “You don’t have family dinners on Wednesdays.”

It wasn’t a question. Sander shook his head anyway. “That’s when I have my sessions,” he mumbled.

Robbe’s jaw worked. His eyes were still flitting around. Sander watched his throat as he swallowed. “Why did you never just tell me that?”

“I didn’t know how,” Sander said, voice cracking, knowing it was a pathetic excuse. “I still didn’t know how to manage it myself. I hadn’t even started going to therapy before I met you. Everything felt different, wrong, when I came back to school. Nothing felt good anymore. And then there was you. And I still had the same, hopeless crush on you that I’ve had for almost a year.”

Robbe’s eyes widened, surprised, but Sander didn’t let him derail him, not now when he was finally getting the words out.

“And then suddenly you were showing interest in me too. And it was a distraction, and it was exciting, and it made me feel good. And at first I was so scared to feel that, because what if it was just like before, and I was just latching onto it and imagining things that weren’t there and I would take it too far?”

Robbe shook his head, softly, and now his expression had grown fearful. He dropped Sander’s hand. “So it—it wasn’t real?”

“No, Robbe, that’s not—“ Sander shook his head desperately, reaching out to grab both of Robbe’s hands, relieved when Robbe let him. “That’s not it. Nothing is better than you.”

It seemed to do the trick. Robbe softened enough to roll his eyes at hearing his own words turned on him. Then a lightbulb seemed to suddenly go off. “It was my fault. When I was talking about my mom...it made you run. Fuck, Sander, what did I say?”

Sander shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. It was stupid. I should never have left you like that. Robbe, I am so sorry. But I would never lie about loving you. You aren’t alone, Robbe. You don’t have to be.”

He inched himself closer, and Robbe gazed up at him with lingering doubt, eyes flickering all over his face in search of a lie. Sander carefully raised his hand to his face, cupping his cheek, but he went no further. He leaned his head down, just enough, and tried to convey his honesty, tried to portray his relief and the growing bubble of hope in his chest.

But Robbe didn’t kiss him. Instead he slid his hand to the back of Sander’s neck and drew their foreheads together, looking at him seriously.

“I love you,” he said simply. Sander’s breath left him in a rush and Robbe’s lips ticked up in a smile. “You didn’t let me say it back.”

Sander shook his head in disbelief. A smile was beginning to take over his own face, and he was desperate for Robbe to roll his eyes and kiss it away, as he usually would have done. Instead he gave the back of Sander’s neck a squeeze.

“And you aren’t too much,” he whispered, letting their lips brush just slightly, leaving Sander’s heart stuttering even as his hands steadied, all of his muscles sagging in relief. “But you’re more than enough.”

Sander clenched his eyes shut, then his jaw, and finally let himself relax as Robbe’s nose brushed against his before he closed the rest of the distance.

Sander could have collapsed under the wave of sudden emotion. He felt a bit like a puppet with his strings cut, the tension that had always held him still finally released. He held onto Robbe to make up for it, pressing close, drawing him in with the hand on his cheek and another on his waist. Robbe gripped his neck and sighed against his mouth, lips locking and molding and parting in tandem. Sander’s heart—his whole chest—his whole body—was on fire. He had missed this desperately. He had missed Robbe desperately. He couldn’t fathom, in this moment, ever having the strength to leave him.

“Fuck,” he murmured, “I missed you.”

“Good,” Robbe mumbled back. “Then you won’t be that stupid again.”

“Never,” Sander promised, sealing it with a kiss. “I’ll make it up to you. I swear.”

Robbe hummed. “I already have a few ideas.”

They found themselves (momentarily) kissed-out, minutes or hours later, and had instead settled themselves against one of the many walls of the maze. They had remembered, in a brief break in which they’d detached themselves, to message Jens and Lucas, reassuring them they were both fine. (They’d done so with a selfie, their cheeks pressed together and a smile on their lips. Jens had had a few choice words for Robbe. Lucas had sent Sander six eye-rolling emojis, followed by a single heart.) The constellation art faced them as Robbe rested against Sander’s shoulder. Sander lay his head on Robbe’s, occasionally turning to press kisses to his hair.

“The stars look different like this, too,” Robbe mumbled, sounding half-asleep.

Sander gazed down at him, amused. “Like what?”

Robbe shrugged. “Happy.”

Sander’s heart filled with warmth as he dragged him into another kiss.

[shireness-says]

Swan’s Seven (4/?)

Summary: After two years behind bars, Emma’s out, and she’s got a plan in mind. Now to put together the perfect team… Let’s stage an art heist. (A CS Ocean’s 8 AU) ~3.9K. Rated T for language. Also on AO3. Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

~~~~~

A/N: Hello, all. It’s been a while on this one. 11 months, nearly to the day. Word to the wise: don’t sign up for six writing events all at once. The good news is there’s not a lot to refresh on, if you need the refresher! The gist: we’re robbing an art galley, and CS are trying to come back from starting out on the wrong foot.

Thanks, as always, to @snidgetsafan​​ for beta-ing, and to YOU ALL for being so patient with me.

Tags: @optomisticgirl​, @spartanguard​, @profdanglaisstuff​, @captainsjedi​, @thisonesatellite​, @thejollyroger-writer​, @let-it-raines​, @teamhook​, @kmomof4​, @snowbellewells​, @searchingwardrobes​, @winterbaby89​, @scientificapricot​, @superchocovian​​, @welllpthisishappening​​, @ohmightydevviepuu​​. Shoot me a message if you want to be added/taken off the list.

And a last note: last September, @spartanguard​​ made some AMAZING fan art for me! Check it out and give her love, if you haven’t already!

Enjoy - and let me know what you think!

~~~~~

Emma makes her living off of first impressions and gut feelings. She’s a career con; those feelings can keep you alive and out of jail. Emma prides herself on rarely being wrong, with few (if spectacular - looking at you, Neal) exceptions.

Perhaps that’s why it rankles so much that she finds herself liking Killian Jones - it’s an admittance that her first impression, that he was nothing but a cocky bastard there to undermine her, was wrong. But underneath that seems to be a kind man, a polite and chivalrous one, a man who held the door for Elsa this morning and is currently with Belle unwrapping some kind of machine for replicating bronzes, as promised, the both of them displaying near-childlike glee at the new toy. It’s a side of him that Emma hadn’t expected to see, given those first few disastrous interactions.

(The side of him, so to speak, that Emma is treated to watching Killian bend over the box isn’t half bad either.)

A low whistle sounds from over Emma’s shoulder where she leans against the bar, almost as if she conjured it into existence. That’s not the case, of course; Ruby may be practicing her drink mixing before she starts at Robin’s tomorrow, plying them all with dangerously strong cocktails in the process, but as far as Emma’s aware, the saucy brunette isn’t any sort of mindreader. 

“Damn if that’s not a pretty sight,” Ruby comments with a smirk as she measures out a hefty shot of vodka. “I love a man who can fill out a pair of jeans right.”

“I thought you were more interested in a woman who can fill out a pair of jeans right.” It’s not a criticism - just, apparently, a significant misread on Emma’s part. Another one. 

Or not. “Baby, I’m not picky,” Ruby winks. “I like everyone. Just say the word if you’re ever interested.”

“Not really looking - especially not if it mixes business with pleasure - but I’ll keep it in mind. Thanks, Ruby.”

Ruby hums. “That mean you won’t ever make a move on Jones?”

“Why would I ever want to make a move on Jones?” Emma snorts.

Ruby just shrugs in response. “I don’t know. You two have got that charged tension going on. It’s a lot more fun to fuck it out than fight it out. You can’t deny he’s easy on the eyes, either - I’ve seen you looking.”

It’s a little too late to claim she was watching where Regina and Elsa hover over a laptop, monitoring the feed from Tink’s glasses from her first day at her new internship. That just leaves sarcasm to fall back on - always a solid choice. “Yeah, well, I’ve been in a women’s prison for two years. Can’t blame a red-blooded American woman for looking.”

“I’ll let you pretend that’s all it is. For now.” As if to accentuate, Ruby slides a bright aqua cocktail across the counter. “Enjoy your Blue Motherfucker.”

(Emma didn’t order the cocktail by any stretch of the imagination, but damn, does that burn feel good going down.)

Liquid courage doesn’t have anything to do with the way she saunters over to meet Killian where he hunches over an instruction manual. At the sound of her boots on the industrial concrete, his head snaps to attention, turning to meet her face to face. 

“What can I do for you, Swan?” he asks with that smirk she’s learning is just an affectation. She thinks it might be armor, the same way she wears her red leather jacket; warn everyone away and you won’t get hurt. 

“What are you up to tomorrow?”

“Depends. What are you about to propose?”

“How about you and I have a little date at an art gallery?”

———

“Not that I don’t appreciate your efforts, darling,” Killian murmurs in her ear, “but next time - I plan the date.”

“You seem awfully sure that there will be another date,” Emma snarks back. “Think highly of yourself, don’t you? And I’m not your darling.”

“What can I say, love - I can’t help that I’m devilishly handsome and charming. I’ve found it a winning combination.”

“Not your love, either.”

It’s not actually a date - just something intended to look like one. To anyone else at the gallery, they look like a pair of lovers, whispering sweet nothings to each other as they observe the masterpieces. All the while, Elsa observes exactly where the boundaries of each video camera lie from her computer back at the Poison Apple as Emma and Killian slink past corners with a faux-smitten giggle or tug on the lapel of a leather jacket. 

“You are aware that we can hear you, right?” Regina drawls in the hidden earpiece they both wear.

“As if I could ever forget you, Madame Mills,” Killian replies smoothly. “I must say, I wouldn’t normally invite someone else along on an afternoon romantic excursion, but if the lovely Swan enjoys someone else listening in to… shall we say, private moments, then I am happy to —”

“So help me God, if you finish that sentence, I will remove your balls with my pocket knife,” Emma interrupts. 

“Ah, so you like them quiet too.” At her sharp look - one she’s sure could cut through steel if she just tried hard enough - Killian bows his head in concession. “I’ll stop, if only for the sake of my anatomy.”

“Good decision.”

“And I’ll repeat, we can hear you,” Regina snaps into their earpieces. 

(Emma will never admit that in the midst of the banter, she forgot.)

“Alright, Your Majesty, don’t get your knickers in a twist.” Killian’s voice isn’t exactly soothing, but it’s something approaching conciliatory. Emma just hopes the cameras aren’t so good as to see the way he winks, completely contradicting his words.

“How’s it going, Elsa?” Emma asks under her breath, hoping to change the subject. Turning things back towards the reason she and Killian are here in the first place. 

“Just fine, Emma,” Elsa’s calm voice trails through the ear piece. “The cameras up front will be… somewhat trickier to manipulate just due to sheer numbers, as you can imagine, but doable. I’ll work on dissecting their alarm system on the displayed paintings next. I would appreciate a closer pass around the doors to the staff-only areas, if you don’t mind terribly.”

“Not at all.”

Slowly, they make their way towards Elsa’s directed areas, keeping a leisurely pace and making sure to stop and briefly examine the works on the walls as they go, maintaining their facade as a somewhat distracted young couple. Jones pauses for a particularly long time to examine an impressionistic landscape Emma won’t pretend to recognize without the assistance of the side label she has no intention of looking at. By all appearances, he sees something in there that she doesn’t.

“Shopping, are we?” she leans up to whisper in his ear. It’s not flirting, not really; not real flirting anyways. It’s just all for show, and Emma? Well, she’s a born actress when it comes to a con. 

“‘Fraid I don’t have the space on my walls, darling,” he smirks. “Ask me again in a few weeks, maybe I’ll have a bigger, better place. In the meantime, just admiring the colors.”

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for an art enthusiast,” Emma comments as they finally saunter into the particular camera’s range, extracting the gallery guide from her back jeans pocket to give herself a reason to stop.

“I’m not. Doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate it from an amateur standpoint.” He leans in close - for show, of course, all for show - to whisper back in her own ear. “Now let’s hurry up and finish so we can get out of here.”

Emma tosses him a sideways look. “This may seem like a date, but you’re not getting lucky, buddy.”

“And I’d never presume as such. Now, Elsa, what else do you need?”

“A round by the other staff doors, and then just a final pass by the front guard’s desk, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course, lass.”

Killian may be an annoyance, but he really does make a good partner for this kind of thing. Two people on a date is a good reason to stop, to linger, especially in inappropriate places and at inappropriate times. And Jones? Jones is a master of suggestive smirks and flirtatious gazes whose salacious intimacy turns guards’ eyes away. By all appearances, they’re two people going through the motions of a date and just biding their time before some more enjoyable activities - at least on his side. 

Emma is fine playing along; it’s easy enough to make the effort to linger in his space - all for appearances, of course - and create little affectionate touches. Hell, it’s even fun to slip her hand into the back pocket of Killian’s jeans and imprint to her memory the way he tries so hard not to jump in surprise at the gesture. But all the while, her mind is elsewhere - cataloging entrance and exit routes, taking note of pieces they’ll want to target, and remembering the faces of the guards to relay to Ruby later. This is work, not fun time; any enjoyment she might be finding is secondary to their goals.

“You can relax now, Swan,” Killian comments once they’ve finally made their way back outside and down the block, tapping at his earpiece to turn it off while Emma does the same. She’s had rather enough of Regina’s particular brand of sarcasm today. 

“I’m always relaxed,” she all but snaps back. It rather undermines her own point, but whatever.

“Oh yes, that’s so clearly evidenced by the set of your shoulders. Tell me, are they supposed to sit quite that high and tense?”

Carefully, she makes sure to relax her posture. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Hmm. I’m sure you don’t.” Killian’s smile nearly sparkles, even in the middle of that mocking, not that she’d let it distract her. No, Emma is made of sterner stuff than that. With a quirk of an eyebrow, he slings an arm - the one with a hand, she notices - over those same shoulders. “C’mon, Swan, let’s go down to the bar and check on Ruby,” he declares. “I’ll buy you a drink.”

Emma debates shrugging his arm off, coming back with another snappy quip, but ultimately decides against it; some things just aren’t worth the effort when it’s been a weird day and she’s tired. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t have questions about this little side trip he’s proposing. “Why?”

“Why do I want to buy you a drink? Well, Swan, when a single man - like myself - meets a pretty young lady —”

“You know what I mean, smartass. Why do you want to go to the bar?”

“Ah, that. Well, you’re a bit of an open book Swan, and one who likes to hold all the cards. You’ve been carefully steering this whole data-gathering enterprise; I can tell you want to check in on how Ruby’s doing. I’d never call you a control freak, of course - that’d be terribly bad form - but, well…”

“I am not a control freak,” Emma protests.

“No?”

“No. Regina is a control freak. I am a… control enthusiast.”

“Kinky.”

“Do you just want me to use my pocket knife on you? Is that it?”

“That’s a little too kinky for me, actually, but if that changes at any point, I do promise, Swan, you’ll be the very first to know.”

With a glare, Emma reaches for her back pocket. There’s something so satisfying about the way Jones lifts both his hands in surrender at her renewed threat.

“Alright, Swan, I yield,” he laughs. “Might be best to add another drink onto what I owe you, call it an apology.”

“Make it something dark and strong and you’re on.”

Ruby is, by all appearances, more than fine behind the bar at the Den of Thieves - at least if the tip jar is any indicator. Her low cut blouse and that particular sway of her hips probably helps, but Ruby is naturally predisposed to this kind of thing, friendly and just a little bit flirty and a people person in her very core in a way Emma could never manage. The peppy brunette gives no indication of recognizing either Emma or Killian as she serves them, but their drinks, even for being simple, are prepared and delivered in record time, along with a basket of onion rings a few minutes later than Emma never even had to ask for. 

“So,” Killian says once they’ve nearly finished their first drinks - rum for him, bourbon for her - and put in an order for a basket of wings, tucking his hands jauntily beneath his chin. “Tell me about yourself.”

“This isn’t a real date, Jones,” Emma quips back, draining her glass and signalling a Ruby for a refill. “Sorry to break it to you, but that touchy feely business back at the gallery? All for show.”

Killian clutches at his chest dramatically. “Break a man’s heart, why don’t you, Swan?”

Emma just shrugs, reaching for another onion ring. No real way to respond to that, and no real need, either.

“But really, Swan. Tell me something.”

“Well, I’m a Scorpio, I like long walks on the beach, and I’m just looking for that perfect partner in crime, you know?” Emma replies, purposefully pitching her voice high and giggly. 

“Oh, now that was funny, love. Partner in crime - I see what you did there.”

“I couldn’t possibly begin to understand what you mean.” Batting her eyelashes really sells the effect, in Emma’s opinion. 

“Picture of innocence, truly.”

“That’s me.” Emma quickly nods her thanks as one of Robin’s regular staff deposits their wings platter, picking up and twirling a saucy drumette between her fingers. “Why do you want to know.”

“I don’t know,” Killian shrugs, reaching for his own bite. “As long as we’re working together, I figured it’d be nice to get to know each other. We don’t have to, I suppose, but I thought it might be preferable to sitting in silence.”

“What, 20 Questions then?”

“Aye. I’ll even let you go first.”

“You’re the one who wanted to play.”

“Yes, but I’m also a gentleman. Ask your questions, Swan.”

“Fine.” The problem is, Emma doesn’t really know what she wants to ask. But the silence sits there, complete with an expectant look on Jones’ face, and she finally settles on a cop-out of a question. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Unexpected choice of question. I like it. Blue grey, like the ocean on a windy day. Pancakes, waffles, or French toast?”

“Oh, and you said I picked something unexpected. Pancakes. With chocolate chips and whipped cream. Fantasy heist?”

“Some old sailing ship. Really embrace the pirate vibe. Any hobbies?”

Emma looks at him skeptically. “Does art theft not count?”

“Fair enough,” he laughs. It’s a nice sound, not that she’s paying attention. “Back to you.”

“Dream trip?”

“Someplace ancient. Maybe Greece. Ask me again next week and I’ll tell you something different. How do you take your coffee?”

“This feels like some kind of sly come-on,” Emma comments wryly.

“And that feels like avoidance. Answer the question, Swan.”

“Fine. I take it in the form of hot chocolate. With cinnamon. If I need the caffeine I’ll shotgun a Red Bull or something instead.”

“Red Bull? That’s disgusting, Swan.”

“That’s effective. And it’s my turn to ask a question.”

“So ask it.”

She pauses just a moment before diving in. “How did you find your way into this business?” Even as Emma speaks the words, she knows this is what they’ve been leading up to - why he, a man who should be able to make a respectable living, has wound up here, trafficking stolen goods. It doesn’t make sense, even if he is excellent at his job.

“Ah.” Killian’s smile is visibly strained as his head bows to address the table instead of Emma’s face. “It’s not a particularly noble story, I’m afraid.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Emma rushes to assure him. “I know when you suggested this game you didn’t think that —”

“It’s fine, Swan, really. I was never some knight in shining armor anyways.” He knocks back the rest of his drink quickly and signals for another. “I was actually in the Royal Navy for a stretch. Joined up with my brother.”

“That… actually makes sense. How’d a nice Navy boy turn to the life of crime?”

“Lost my brother, lost my hand. Was left with… pretty much nothing, really.” He jiggles the empty glass like a nervous habit, making the remaining ice cubes click softly together. “Found myself very at ends. And then, Will Scarlet sauntered back into my life, needed help.”

“Wait - Will Scarlet?” Emma should let him finish the story, but she knows that name. Fuck, she’s worked with that name before. “You know Will Scarlet?”

“Aye. Grew up together, actually, though we took very different paths after graduation. I take it you know him as well?”

“Pickpocket and thief? Kind of an asshole?”

“Oh, an absolute right bastard when he wants to be. Which he does, nine times out of ten. But he’s a loyal friend, and when I was drinking my benefits away at any pub I could find, not much caring whether I lived or died, he came to me and told me he needed help. Someone charming enough to help him get a good price on one of his larger pulls. And it just kind of… spiraled from there. Half of dealing in stolen goods is charm, you know. Charm enough to talk a price up or down, or convince a buyer that there’s absolutely no way a purchase can ever be traced back to them even when you know you can’t promise it. It’s a good fit for, if not the one I anticipated when I first joined up, fresh out of school. What about you, though?” he asks, quickly changing the subject. “How’d a lovely young lady like you embrace the life of crime?”

This isn’t really a story Emma likes to tell; Regina only weaseled it out of her after several years and quite a lot of tequila. But it seems like something she should tell Killian - tit for tat, and all that. Besides, he bared his soul to her, and all because she asked; it’s only right that she do the same.

“It was probably inevitable, one way or another,” she admits. “I, uh… I grew up alone. No parents, ward of the state, blah blah blah. A couple of prospective adoptions that didn’t happen when I was little and then a whole chain of temporary group homes. Until…” 

“Until?” Killian gently prompts when Emma doesn’t pick back up immediately.

“Until I ran away from the umpteenth foster home or group home - I honestly don’t remember which - and David caught me trying to shoplift from a gas station.”

“Ah. The infamous brother.”

“The very one,” Emma agrees. “Who you obviously know now isn’t my real brother. But he was… he kind of took me under his wing, you know? In a way I didn’t expect at 15. His father was a big name in certain circles - less than legal circles. Robert Nolan. Infamous for faking his own death a couple times. And they took me in - David and Robert and his wife, Ruth. Turns out angels or saints or whatever the fuck you want to call them don’t necessarily live on the right side of the law. Robert taught me to pick my first lock, and, well, the rest was history, as the mysterious they always say.”

“That’s nice, in a larcenous kind of way.”

“It was. Is? Robert died, for real this time, a few years back. Ruth’s still around, though. Made sure to come visit me in prison, even when I told her to stay away. Moms, I guess.”

“And your brother? He didn’t…”

“Wind up dead or behind bars?” Emma completes. “No. Though he might as well have. David was the safe-cracker on the east coast for a while, but he retired.”

“No shit?”

“None to speak of. Met a schoolteacher, got married, moved out to Maine. They’ve got an honest-to-God farm, with sheep and a tractor and… other farm things that I never want to know about.”

“Different strokes, I suppose.”

“Or something. I’m just happy he’s happy. Maybe when this is over I’ll drop in for a visit. Try my hand at gathering eggs or something.”

“I’m sure he’d like that,” Killian smiles. “Especially if you haven’t seen each other in years.”

“Yeah, well, if he doesn’t, too bad. He’s the one who adopted me, not the other way ‘round,” she comments, raising her glass in a mock salute. She likes the way it makes him laugh - though that might just be the bourbon talking. “I think it’s time for… literally any other question, honestly. Tell me about the pirate fixation.”

Gratefully, Killian lets her change the subject. “Ah. Well, you see, when I was a young boy, my brother read me Peter Pan…”

———

It’s just a drink. Well, several drinks, and a basket of onion rings and a wing platter. But it somehow makes Killian a person, a person Emma could actually like, instead of some man with an attitude she didn’t want on her team at the beginning of all of this. She knows a thing or two about defense mechanisms and emotional armor anyways. 

“Oh, please tell me that you and Jones just buried the proverbial hatchet and not the euphemistic one,” Regina groans after Killian hands Emma a coffee cup with a wink the next morning. A large hot chocolate. With a healthy sprinkle of cinnamon on the top. 

Seems he might have listened, just a bit.

“Okay, first of all, the euphemistic hatchet is not a thing. Like, that’s not a phrase. And if it was, I don’t think Jones needs that kind of ego boost. We’d never hear the end of it,” Emma argues.

“None of this sounds like a denial.”

“Well, it is. Because - second of all - we did not have sex. Which is the phrase real adults use.”

“Calling yourself a real adult undermines the spirit of the thing.”

Emma flips her off. It’s earned.

“Fine. You didn’t have sex. So this is all just… you suddenly discovering a new and more forgiving side of yourself?”

“Well, you know, I figured he was less insufferable than you, Reg, and it was all sunshine and roses from there.”

“Fair enough.” Regina holds out her own coffee cup - doubtless filled with some disgusting double shot concoction she ordered herself from an uppity coffee shop - to tap against Emma’s. “I’m just glad to see you two getting along better. Though maybe we could hear it less.”

“I make no promises.”

Across the room, Killian meets her eyes with a smile from where he’s listening to something Tink is saying, and Emma can’t help but smile back. They would have managed this job even if Killian and her hadn’t come to this agreement (detente, he’d probably say), but she can’t deny this makes things easier. 

Alright, Swan? he mouths from across the room, smiling even wider when she nods in return. 

It’s just drinks, and it’s just coffee - but it’s a start.

[divinity-infinity]

MAG π: Gallery

Statement of Josh Wheeler, regarding an art gallery.

Inspired by this post by @sexchangelingcastiel, I wrote my own original statement about it!

Content warnings: large spaces, disassociating

See this also on ao3! Link is in the source

I don't understand abstract art, nor the people who appreciate it. They're just color and lines and shapes all randomly splotched onto something and called "art". A child could make some random paint splatters on paper and to me it would look the same as those abstract artworks hung up in galleries. I don't see how people could look at one of those splotches of color and lines and call it art and see some deeper meaning in them. They just don't make any sense!

Or maybe it's just me. I've always had trouble looking into the deeper, hidden details in art or poetry or writing, to me it's just at that. No metaphor for this, no symbolism for that. Trying to look further into something just confuses me. Besides, it's not like I'm going to be an art curator or art historian or literature analyst, so why should I bother reading into things?

But I had to go to that weird abstract modern art gallery. Not my fault. A close friend, Spencer, wanted to go and apparently I was the only one in our friend group who had a schedule clear for the day.

I wasn't planning on doing anything that day and was bored out of my skull but I really didn't want to go. However, as a Good Friend, and perhaps to see if This Time I could finally see into art and figure out the meanings of them, and maybe to get to spend some time with him, I went.

It was a small building. A collection of abstract art from various artists all over, curated by Mx. Halley Hiraishi, some painter they know that's apparently slightly known in the world of art, mostly digital art. Not that I'm undermining his artist abilities, I really just don't know them due to lack of ~artistic knowledge~.

Anyway we went inside and were greeted by Halley Hiraishi themself. He even offered to tour us around the gallery themself. Of course Spencer obliged. They asked us to call him Hiraeth.

He gave us a bit of information about things we looked at for a bit, typical art gallery stuff. I couldn't really get into their explanations having no knowledge of art appreciation or anything, but Spencer seemed to be really interested and listened intently.

I found myself wandering around the room a bit while Spencer and Hiraeth had a lively conversation about the meaning of some sculpture made out of old book paper, something about how the book supposedly contain supernatural power and someone repurposed the book into a sculpture to nullify its effects and to represent how humanity is ever evolving and trash can be art or whatever.

They didn't seem to notice me not-paying attention and I instead looked idly at the different displays. I made sure though to turn back every so often just so I wouldn't get separated from my friend and our guide.

I don't know why but the paintings with their swirls and spirals and patterns, they sort of had a kind of hypnotizing effect about them. Like they were those optical illusions designed to trick the eye. I couldn't stop looking at them.

When I did pry my eyes off of the displays, I realized that Spencer and Hiraeth were no longer in the room. I must've gone into another room without realizing it.

I turned back to where I came, but got into yet another room. In this place the sculptures and paintings seemed slightly bigger somehow, and figured maybe they just sorted the different areas by size.

Still, I tried to go to other areas of the place, that I just knew led back to the entrance, only to lead right into another room. All while the paintings and sculptures and art, and even the room, seemed to grow bigger. I realized that I was in fact lost, which shouldn't even make sense considering the small size of the building.

I didn't know how long I've wandered in those ever increasing rooms and art, but at one point I was in a room so large, like the floor area of a mall at least. The paintings were massive, bigger than murals! My mind just spun thinking about how Hiraishi could have even painted or sculpted or collected such things.

I figured I shouldn't go anywhere else if the rooms were only going to get larger, so I sat down and tried to think of what to do, or maybe to tell myself that I must be dreaming, this wasn't real.

It shouldn't even make sense, I mean for a small building it shouldn't have been able to fit all those rooms that got increasingly larger. All while I was just walking on the same floor! I wanted to think that for some reason there was this shrinking illusion that was supposed to be some performance art that made you think you were shrinking, but no, the doors were still sized for me to fit in, for a human to fit in, and the windows-- yes! The windows! I thought at that point that I could maybe climb through the window and get out.

But as I went to look out the window, all I could see was the cityscape, so miniscule it could be compared to that of a map. I couldn't jump off a height that high, and even so, from what I know I was walking along the first floor all this time! How would I end up so high up? And even then the building was about four stories high at most! There shouldn't be a reason for a four story building to have the fourth floor at this height!

I didn't know how long I was in that room. It was just me staring at the tiny details of the painting now in front of me, getting lost in those splotches of paint that didn't make sense. I thought that if Spencer were with me he'd probably say something like, "we're just the size of a small spot of paint and the bigger picture is so massive. From this perspective it almost seems like a comparison to how small life is and how unimportant things are; they're always part of a grander picture. How unimportant a detail is from our tiny perspective. It didn't matter, how small we all are, how insignificant as a small speck in a place of art."

I would've been surprised that for the first time my mind tried to look at a detail and gave it a meaning, but during that time all I could think about was how much I missed Spencer.

He would've enjoyed trying to insert and shove metaphors into every single bit, trying to give meaning and identity to something so abstract and meaningless, if they were there but me? I hated every second of it, couldn't stand the place and its little metaphors and abstractions that messed with my head.

I tried to go through the door I once came through and once again in the hope that I would finally end up back in the small space of the building I once entered, only to end up in a room whose size was so huge I couldn't fully comprehend its size. I felt like the size of an ant in a large, human sized room.

I wanted to scream, I wanted to yell in frustration and so I did. Didn't even make an impact; the room absorbed it in. The room was nothing but a void of paintings.

And then I saw it, out of the corner of my eye, a figure stepping into a yellow door out of sight! It even seemed like it was Hiraeth who went in there, and I would've followed except...the door seemed to be part of a painting, a massive one that's also been left to dry. The crisp and clear image of the door seemed to be out of place for an abstract, but I saw it! Someone used that door! I went up to the painting in question...and tried to touch it.

At first all my hand felt was the thick acrylic paint. Yellow and black - the handle was painted black - but then I felt something metallic underneath that felt like an actual door handle - so it wasn't an illusion! - I turned the handle and felt the door open up slightly and in my desperation to just get out of the place I flung myself there. I felt myself collide with a wall of paint but I just had the strongest feeling it would get me out of that void.

And it did. Next thing I know I was being woken up by Spencer and Hiraeth looking over at me worriedly. I was sitting near the painting I think I went through, now normal sized and untouched. I want to believe it was just some dream, that perhaps I fell asleep and collapsed, but here's the thing - I was mostly covered in still wet acrylic paint.

While Spencer seemed a bit perplexed as to how I got covered in paint, Hiraeth seemed to be unfazed by it and simply offered a tip that acrylic can wash out of clothes as long as it's still wet. I was still a bit confused by it all and simply did what I was told.

At some point a few days later I tried to explain what happened. He apologized for giving me a rough time but I really didn't care. He seemed to have a good time there and I told him that that's what mattered.

Anyway, about the whole experience thing. While we both had a conversation that we ultimately chalked up to a dream, we still couldn't explain the paint thing, and so he suggested I go here, tell my story for maybe an investigation or whatever you guys do with stories. I just want to get it all behind me.

[dopescotlandwarrior]

Sinners & Saints-Chapter 5

Thanks to @statell​ for your help and guidance

Previous chapters at AO3

Chapter Five

Jamie walked his newly planted fields and saw green shoots coming up in every direction. He prayed for a good harvest this year. Not because he was poor or starving, he just wanted to win at something this year. He answered his cell phone and stood up straight, listening intently.

“Are you sure it’s Casper? I’ll leave within the hour and meet you in Paris.”

Jamie felt exhilarated and ran back to the house and into the shower. Casper had come out of retirement and stolen a painting from a private gallery. He did the same thing at a London gallery the previous weekend. It seemed a bit low end but at the very least, it would buy him more time. He got packed and headed for the airport.

Claire sat in her office at the University, staring into gray space. Her pencil tapped absently and when Geillis called to her she jumped.

“Calm yerself, Claire. I had hoped you could settle down a bit, especially with your gorgeous high-security apartment, and it’s been five months without word from that snake Randall. But yer still very unhappy. Why?”

Claire looked up at Geillis and shook her head, saying she didn’t sleep much the night before and not to worry. She packed up and went home for even more quiet time with her gray thoughts and more time to worry she was losing her mind. Jamie lived in her head now, always with her, always heartbroken because of what she did. She didn’t think he would ever speak to her again, and if he did, what would she say? Looking at the clock she wanted to scream because it was only seven o’clock. That was the worst part of missing Jamie, an hour took forever to go by so the torture never ended.

Claire grabbed some lined paper and a pen to see just what she would say to Jamie. Maybe getting it all out is what she needed to start feeling better. She could burn the letter after it was written.

Jamie poured over the reports and studied the crime scene photos of what were now three thefts. Something was wrong, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He spent two full days checking his contacts in the black market, but no one knew the fence for this art, no one knew anything. The last guy he spoke to said someone told him a Monet would be in play soon, but he didn’t know which one. Jamie thanked him and promised the standard reward if the information was used to apprehend Casper.

Jamie sat on the same bench he shared with Claire six months ago and he let himself remember her smile and whisky brown eyes. She was playful and sexy, and he believed she had feelings for him. He shook his head and opened the newspaper. Flipping pages to the art section he scanned the ads and bam, there it was. A mid-range gallery hosting a private collection of Monet the following weekend. This, it seemed, was Casper’s new normal. Private showings and small galleries. Jamie had a good feeling about the location, and they had one week to set the scene to catch Casper.

There was one piece of evidence left by Casper that wasn’t shared with the world. It was how they identified him as the thief. Casper took great pains to keep the art intact, unlike many who pull the canvas from the frame basically ripping it out. Casper used some kind of tool to pop the nails that held the canvas in the frame. Whatever this tool was left distinct marks on the wood, a half-moon indentation. It was all they had so it was a guarded secret.

Claire pulled another piece of paper, the fourth piece, and continued writing a letter she would never send. Her feelings opened up to her like a blooming flower and she let it flow thinking the answer to her continuous sadness would reveal itself so she could fix it. When she was ready to end the letter and had said all there was to say, she wrote, ’I have never shared this much of me with anyone and I hope it cures my broken heart. I can summarize these four pages by saying I love you, Jamie, with all my heart, I love you.’

Claire sat up and looked at the paper. The words I love you seemed to jump off the page and she just stared at them. Before she could stop herself she sent a text to Jamie, ‘I love you, please forgive me. Claire” Send.

She didn’t expect to hear from him but hoped this would give her some closure. She went to bed.

Jamie stared at his phone and felt his heart ramming in his chest. Those words were the absolute last he expected to see, six months after they parted. He wouldn’t be returning the text, but as he fell asleep he said out loud, “I love you too Claire.”

The Monet show was one day away, and Jamie called Javier to ask about the gallery. He seemed genuinely happy he called and suggested they meet for lunch and he would answer any questions he could. Seeing the older man’s happy face was bittersweet for Jamie. They met at a sidewalk cafe and Jamie told him about the show. He asked about the gallery, if there were hidden entrances, a second vault, a basement, or structural abnormalities. Javier answered what he could and asked Jamie who it was they were closing in on.

“Casper.”

Javier almost choked on his coffee, “Casper you say? Well, that is wonderful, I hope you get him.”

The men talked a bit about sports and Jamie thanked Javier for his help and then bit him goodbye.

Claire came home early and saw a coded message from Javier. Once Tom deciphered the message, she couldn’t believe her eyes. ‘Lunch with Jamie, he is preparing to arrest Casper tomorrow on a tip about a Monet. Needless to say, I was very surprised but not worried because you are in Chicago, right?’ Claire held the Chicago Tribune in front of her chest and took a selfie that she sent to Javier. She needed some air.

Jamie and his team had installed close circuit tv monitors in the gallery office and extra cameras throughout the exhibit. They scrutinized each visitor until their eyes were blurry. Jamie noticed a man standing in front of one of the pictures for a very long time. When he moved away the picture was still there, but Jamie’s gut was telling him the guy wasn’t normal. He radioed to his men near the door and described the man as he started running. The man was already being led out of the gallery when Jamie got to him. This was surprising since he would expect a man to fight harder for his freedom. The art thief had switched the painting with a reproduction and was arrested. His pockets were searched and a small Leatherman multitool was handed to Jamie. It was a link to Casper he thought, and a billion other people.

Later that afternoon, Jamie questioned the suspect who knew all the details of the last three crimes but was confused about the others.

“Tell me, sir, why did you rip the Rembrandt canvas out of the frame? Was someone coming?”

“I don’t remember, probably.”

Jamie made a sound of disgust, “if you intend to impersonate someone, sir, at least get the details straight. You are not Casper, nor could you ever be. You’re not smart enough.”

Jamie left the suspect handcuffed to the table and left. The pressure from his employers had let up with the newly revived Casper chase but now they would learn it was a copycat crime and his nightmares would start again.

“Yes, sir. It was a copycat, sir.”

“This is not good news for us or you Mister Fraser. We gave you an additional six months and you failed to fulfill your end of our bargain. I’m sorry Mister Fraser, it is out of my hands. The court will be notified of your failure to abide, sadly our agreement will be nullified.”

Jamie put the phone down and walked outside for some air. All of his tomorrows suddenly vanished and the nightmare of his captivity came back in living color. He was terrified. Not of monsters or torture, but of loneliness, desolation, no hope of escape. Jamie realized he left his phone at the office and jogged back before he lost that too.

Once back at his hotel, the phone vibrated an incoming text and Jamie’s heart sank, they don’t fool around, he thought. He looked with disbelief at the text message. ‘Come to Greece Jamie, please give me a chance to fix the hurt I caused. Two weeks on a yacht, just you and me going from one island to another. My heart aches to be near you. We can spend the first day making rules we are comfortable with. Claire.’

Jamie held his phone while the heartbreak over missed opportunities crushed him. “I love you too, Sassenach. Forget about me and find your happiness.” No text was returned, instead, Jamie got back to his reports and the grief settled into his bones.

Claire had battled herself for days over sending the text. The semester was over and she was getting out of Chicago for two weeks at least. She owned a yacht that was moored in Greece and the open water always made her feel better. For days Claire waited to hear back from Jaime, but no text came. This was the second time she extended an olive branch, leaving herself vulnerable, and he did not make contact. He was lost to her forever she concluded, and try as she might, the tears came, her legs buckled, and she sobbed into a gray pillow on her gray couch in her gray apartment, like her heart would never mend.

Jamie spent three days closing his case on Casper and the successful arrests made during the past year. He checked out of the hotel and headed for the airport. He considered calling Javier, but he wasn’t strong enough to show a brave face. Javier reminded Jamie of his own father in many ways and he didn’t want the reality of who and what he was to be known. Not to anyone in her world. Her perfect, sparkling world would be repelled by him. Like a muddy pig running through a fancy white living room. Jamie swiped at his eyes in the taxi and tried to stop thinking about it. His phone buzzed for email and he brought it up.

Good afternoon, Mister Fraser.

We have ironed out the details of your return and would like to ask for your complete cooperation. Our agreement is not to be known outside of the agency and we want you to extract yourself slowly to avoid anyone looking for you or filing reports that you are missing. You will return to us as quiet as possible. I do hope you agree, the alternative is rather brutal.

I understand you have a small farm in Scotland and will need time to sell it and conclude any other business such as liquidating assets and the like. We are offering a four to six-week window and ask that you keep us informed.

Any questions you can reach out to this address and I will receive the message.

Jamie paid the taxi driver who looked at him with sympathy and told him life will be brighter tomorrow. He wiped at his face and nodded. Sorry mister, wrong about that, no sun where I’m going, no love, no hope, no redemption, he thought.

When Claire landed in Athens, she spent half of the first day getting reacquainted with the captain and his girlfriend who lived on the ship. There were living quarters connected to the bridge and they were happy there, living on a luxury yacht waiting to be called to duty. She and Maia made three trips to the grocery store to stock food for a two-week journey.

Claire walked down the long dock with her arms full of last-minute purchases. She could feel one of the bags slipping through her arm and she felt sweat drip down the side of her face from the effort.

“Here, let me help you with that.” The man rescued the slipping bag and took all the others. Her subconscious smelled him and sent a cascade of neurotransmitters through her body that felt glorious and tense at the same time. She looked up at his face and just stared at his icy blue eyes and crooked smile.

“You invited me, remember Sassenach?” He asked the question nervously as he could not read the shock on her face.

“And here you are,” was her breathy response.

Jamie wanted to drop the bags and crush her to him. She was like the gift of air to a suffocating man.

Claire was so overwhelmed it took a few seconds to see the man that had stolen her heart was right in front of her. She pulled his head down and kissed him with all the pent up passion and loneliness of the past six months. Someone pulled the bags out of Jamie’s arms and he wrapped her up and held her to him. The kiss was a surrender to love, an invitation to leave the chrysalis of loneliness and fly into a world of their making. When she finally pulled away from him, she was the definition of happiness.

“It is so good to see you, Jamie.”

“You just restarted my dead heart Sassenach, thank you for that.”

He kissed her again and as time passed for the rest of the world, for them it didn’t exist. Jamie heard the musical sound of the Greek language and looked up at the biggest boat he had ever seen up close. Two beautiful people were on the top deck waving and laughing, beckoning them on board. He heard Claire laughing as she waved back.

“Do we get on that then?”

Claire was giggling, “we do, come on I’ll show you around.”

Jamie was astounded at the size and luxury of the yacht, three bedrooms, two decks, a large living area with a huge flatscreen, phones, and a bar. The galley had two refrigerators and a chest freezer, two ovens, microwaves, and large food preparation counters. The opulence was staggering and if not for the beautiful girl walking in front of him he would have looked closer. When they found the back deck, Claire pulled his mouth to hers and they were lost in love.

“Time for trunks or something more comfortable.”

She led him back to the master bedroom and helped him put his clothes away, noticing he packed for any occasion. She unbuttoned her shirt and Jamie watched her with interest as she pulled off her cut-off shorts to reveal the tiniest bikini, bright melon colored against her tanned skin. I will meet you on deck. Maia has been cooking since yesterday, so I promise you won’t starve. She looked at him and wanted to pinch herself in case she was dreaming. He was here, with her, he came.

Claire handed Jamie a cold glass of champagne and offered flatbread and several kinds of dip that were made from scratch while they chatted at the bar. The sexual energy was palpable, and Claire looked out at the ocean to think about something other than the mere twelve inches of space between them.

“My God, I haven’t noticed how blue the water is until now, I can’t remember the last time I saw blue.”

There was so much to discuss but every sentence fell stunted, unexplored because both were captivated with the other.

Claire picked up a ringing phone at the bar and told the captain they were ready to go. She smiled at Jamie and promised open ocean and sunshine for the next six hours.

“This is my first launch, you want to see it from the front deck?”

Jamie watched her mouth and nodded yes.

They got comfortable and sipped champagne as the captain eased the vessel away from the dock and toward the open ocean. It wasn’t long before the huge engines pushed the boat forward to cruising speed and Maia appeared with the cold bottle of champagne to refill their glasses.

“Maia, what do you have on?”

Maia was a Greek beauty with all the attributes this country was known for. Large brown eyes, a wide smile, and flowing hair to her waist. She looked down at her clothes and shrugged her shoulders,

“Uniform.”

Claire rubbed the highly starched shirt sleeve between her fingers and noticed the ill-fitting shorts. This would not do, she thought.

“You have been in cut-offs or a swimsuit since I arrived. Unless you love that uniform, I want you to be comfortable. Please, get that off.”

Maia thanked her and left them alone.

“I think we left the dip on back deck. Let’s go find it.”

Jamie noticed her voice was quiet and nervous sounding. When they walked to the other deck Claire closed the sliding glass door and locked it. The glass was black and Jamie wondered if it blocked the view from the other side. Claire led him to a lounge with a comfortable mattress and pillows to aide whatever ailed you. She walked back to the bar removing her button-down shirt revealing her exposed butt cheeks. She looked naked from behind and Jamie almost choked on his tongue. Her skin was already bronzed with a bit of sunburn on her cheeks and shoulders. She brought the tray of bread and dip and laid next to Jamie on the large lounge.

He took in every gorgeous inch of her and ran his hand down her hip and leg. He wanted to touch everything and tried to hold himself back.

“I promised we would go over the ground rules first thing.” She ran her hand across his massive chest and down his arm. When he saw her ramming heart pulsing in her neck, he let it go and pulled her on top of him to smother her with kisses. In his delirious mind, he decided this was enough, to have her body on his and her tongue in his mouth. When she broke the kiss, he chased her mouth as she sat up and straddled him. He watched her reach behind and pull the strings of her bikini top dropping it on the floor. She never took her eyes off his until he pulled her down and kissed her.

Their bodies were covered in sweat that made contact difficult, causing them to overheat or slide off each other. Claire stretched her arm until her fingertips touched the bridge phone.

“Darius, were you kidding about sea spray …ahhh…on the back deck when you dropped speed. Okay, do that please.”

She dropped the phone and used that arm to pull on the string holding Jamie’s trunks on. They slowed enough for the wake to slap the sides of the boat and lovely, cool, sea spray brought their temperature down for more vigorous activity. Jamie ran his tongue from her waist to breast and sucked a nipple while caressing the other. She was losing her mind and asked him to pound into her which he did in short order, gasping when he filled her. Claire felt the throbbing, almost painfully. She begged him not to stop, she was about to come. His next two strokes pressed into her and he twisted his hips. That did it. He held her and watched her face register the euphoria, he had never loved her more. When she pressed his butt, he pumped into her soft wetness until he stiffened and his body convulsed as he emptied himself into her.

They kissed and found their favorite resting position to snuggle and nap the afternoon away. Claire called the bridge and asked Darius to set whatever cruising speed he wanted, and the boat lurched forward.

Later, Jamie felt a cool breeze on his stomach and opened his eyes to a breathtaking sunset.

“Sassenach, sweetheart, you must see this beautiful sky.” Claire sat up and declared it the best sunset she had ever seen. What finally drove them inside was starvation and Maia served them a beautiful meal of lobster bisque, steak, and several Greek sides that were delicious but unknown to them.

Later they cuddled under a quilt on the top deck and let the heavens entertain them with shooting stars streaking across a black sky with billions of stars as a backdrop.

“It’s important to me that you really know who I am, how I got this way, how I could screw up so bad in Paris last Christmas. Would you mind?”

“Please Sassenach, there is nothing I’d like more.”

Claire turned on a battery-operated light and handed him her four-page burn letter. She couldn’t bring herself to burn it because it was all she had to remember him by. It was shoved into her wallet and now it was in Jamie’s hands. She felt self-conscious and rolled away to leave him to his reading. He caught her hand and pulled her back, “not without you love.”

He read every line and then, to her surprise, started at the first line and read it again.

“Jesus, lass, I hardly know what to say. Completely alone at five years old except for a man who dragged you from one archaeological dig to another. He wasn’t there for you emotionally, I see that, I also see how you slip easily into emotionless relationships. And why I didn’t hear from you for six months. It makes sense now, so many things. Come here, sweetheart.”

Jamie hugged Claire and pulled her to him. She was so grateful he read her letter, and then read it again. She hoped he would have more faith in her this time because now she knew how much she loved him.

“What is happening with Frank Sassenach?”

Claire was quiet just a little too long while she considered telling Jamie the truth. If she didn’t, the letter meant nothing and he still couldn’t trust her. She reached for her phone and launched her gallery.

“This is my new apartment that Javier rented for me, and that is all my new furniture. He arranged everything from the lease to filling the apartment with furniture, kitchen stuff, even clothes. The reason he had to do all this is because…”

Claire swiped to the next picture of her destroyed apartment showing various rooms and angles. Then she swiped again, and Jamie’s intake of air was loud enough for the sea creatures to hear. He grabbed her phone and sat up, studying the picture of her face after being knocked out.

“No, no, no, no, no, my God, how did this happen, who did this? Oh my God Claire, this is sickening.”

He stood up and walked the deck around their bed under the stars. He kept looking at the picture as she told him exactly what happened. When she was finished, he pulled her from her sitting position down on the mattress and covered her. He spoke into her ear, telling her she was loved and protected, and Frank or anyone else would never touch her in anger again. His kisses were love affirming becoming heated and passionate causing her to pant.

Claire was trying to get his shirt off and panting in his ear when the voice of reason took over in his head. You will love her, tell her you will always be there for her, make her feel safe, and then break her heart like everyone else in her life. The lovemaking came to a crashing halt and Jamie looked like he had been kicked in the head.

“Sassenach, I…I’m sorry love. I’m too much in my head, I can’t right now. I’m sorry.”

“You are here in the flesh Jamie. You took a leap of faith and came on this trip with me. Your hands are still warm, and your heart is still open. That’s what I want. There is time for us to find our way.

He hugged her for over a minute, trying to come to terms with his reality. He had, at the most, six weeks of freedom left, and he needed to find a way to tell her. Claire suggested a hot shower and sleep and he agreed.

[flowerspecial]

You Give Him A Tour Around An Art Museum - Mark Imagine

When you arrived at your work that morning, you didn't expect to be called into the manager’s office straight away. You had a slight panic as you tried to figure out why you have been summoned by your manager. You hadn't done anything wrong, well, what you could remember anyway. You always thought that you were a pretty good employee, so to say you were confused was putting it lightly.

“Oh come in, don't worry you aren't in trouble!” Your manager smiled at you, as she could see that you were slightly on edge.

“Okay...is there a reason that you asked to see me?” You asked, not wanting to beat around the bush. Your manager notioned for you to take a seat next to her.

“We have a very special group of people coming in today for a tour. Their manager has asked if someone can guide them round, and I thought that you would be the best person.” Your manager seemed very earnest, and it lowered your racing heart rate just slightly.

“Well, it's nice of you to think of me like that, but surely I am not the best person for the job. I get nervous around people, especially if they are important.” Your manager could tell that you were trying to wriggle your way out of this situation, but she wasn't going to let you.

“Trust me, you will be fine! You are one of the best employees I have!”

“Can I at least know who I am giving a tour to? They’re not like the mafia are they? Or some sort of really important politician?” Your manager laughed.

“No, no. They are a kpop group, they are very popular. They just wanted to look around the gallery before their concert tonight.”

“And they can't do that on their own?”

“Well they need someone to tell them about the pieces! Now, they are arriving in ten minutes, so I suggest that you go and sort yourself out quickly so you can greet them at the door.”

Your manager shooed you away from her office and you followed her instructions as you went to the restroom to sort yourself out. You loved your job, you really did, but you hated giving private tours around the gallery. You always ended up with either really weird people who seemed to take more of an interest in you than the artwork, or know it alls who challenged you every time you gave them a piece of information. You can't say that you knew an awful lot about kpop, the most that you knew was from your friends who seemed to have an obsession over them. In a way though, that made you feel somewhat at ease, because you knew that you wouldn't be anymore nervous around them than you are with everyone else.

When your manager told you that they had arrived, you walked over to the door with a warm smile graced across your face.

“Hello, welcome! I will be your guide for today, if you have any questions please don't hesitate to ask.”

All of the boys smiled at you in gratitude, and it only took you a few seconds to realise who they were. Your friends were huge Got7 fans, and you were almost certain that they were going to their concert that night. You couldn't wait to tell them about this!

Their managers explained to you what you could and couldn't do around the boys, and they told you about the strict time limit that they had walking around the gallery. You felt kinda sorry for the boys that they couldn't just walk around freely with no other worries. But you decided that you would make sure that they see all the best pieces in the gallery, and to use every moment they were allowed to have.

“Okay, well, if everyone is ready would you like to follow me?” You said, notioning for the boys to start walking.

As you walked around the gallery, you remained professional at all times. Honestly the amount of times a day that you repeated the same information, it was second nature to you. You had gotten to the stage where you didn't really have to think about what you were saying, because you just reeled it off like a script.

It was lovely because all of the boys genuinely seemed interested in what you had to say, they all listened attentively and always asked before they could take photographs of the artwork. But you couldn't help but notice that one boy seemed to be listening to you a little bit more than the rest of them. In fact he seemed more interested in you than the artwork.

The other boys started to notice their friend’s behaviour, so they thought it would be best to try and play cupid.

“Hey, are we allowed to split up for a bit? Maybe we could go off in pairs and have a look round. There is just so much artwork, I don't think we will be able to see it all.” One of the boys suggested.

“Oh yeah, of course you can go off on your own! If you don't need me I will just hang back near the entrance, and you can come and find me if you need any help!” You replied.

“I mean, you could do that… But as you can see, there is an odd number of us. So maybe you could be partnered with one of us so everyone has someone to go with?” The boy had a cheeky smile so you could tell what he was up to.

“Sure, I can do that! And who would I be partnered with?” You played along.

“Mark! Do you want to be partnered with our lovely tour guide? You do seem to be hanging on every word!” The boy smirked at who you now know is called Mark. You noticed that Mark was trying to avoid your gaze as he nodded subtly. “Well that's excellent! We will leave you in peace, you two have fun!” With that, the rest of the boys dispersed rather quickly away from the group, leaving just you and Mark standing there.

“Is there any artwork that you are particularly interested in, or maybe a specific time period?” You asked, trying to break the tension a little bit.

“Erm, not really. I will just follow you, you know best!” Mark answered, still not quite meeting your gaze.

You just nodded awkwardly and began to walk towards the next exhibition, with Mark following you very closely behind.

“I’m Mark by the way…” Mark said, as if his friend hadn't just called him by his name moments before. You giggled at his awkwardness and replied by telling him your name.

“Wow, that's a beautiful name. A beautiful name for a beautiful person.” Now you couldn't tell if Mark meant to say that out loud, because he somewhat mumbled it under his breath and once he realised that you heard him, he bit his bottom lip in shyness.

You tried to carry on by continuing to reel off facts and information about the artwork, but you could tell Mark’s mind was elsewhere.

“Have you ever heard of our group?” Mark blurted out. It was clear that Mark was starting to feel more confident as he was now walking beside you instead of just behind you.

“My friends are huge fans, I’m pretty sure they are going to your concert tonight.”

“And what about you, will you be there?”

“Oh, no. I don't think I’ve really listened to you guys. And no offence but your tickets are extremely expensive.”

“Do you want to come tonight?” Mark placed his face on your upper arm, encouraging you to stop walking.

“I’m sorry?”

“If you wanted to come, I could get you in… and your friends obviously, I can get you guys closer to the stage.”

“Why would you want to do that?”

“I thought it was kinda obvious that I find you attractive… maybe if you saw me perform you might find me attractive too…” The way Mark kept switching between confident and shy was so endearing to you, and you could tell that his intentions were pure.

“I mean, I already find you attractive, but I’m not gonna say no to your concert.” You saw Mark’s eyes light up with your confession.

“Are you serious?! Right okay, if you want to give me your number I can text you when and where I can meet you before the concert.” Mark handed you his phone and you typed in your details. Mark looked so happy with himself that he had managed to get your number, that he was practically bouncing on the spot.

Neither of you had realised how long you had been away from the rest of the group, until one of the boys had come up to you slowly, as if they were trying not to interrupt a moment.

“Mark, our manager says that we need to go.” Mark’s friend said, quietly and edging towards him slightly.

“Damn it, really? Is our time up already?” His friend just nodded at him.

“I will text you in a couple of hours okay? Please come to our concert, I’d really like to see you again.” Mark said to you.

“Of course I will come, I’d love to see you again too.” Mark smiled at you as he placed his hand on your shoulder, it lingered for a moment before he realised that you two had an audience. The other boys were smirking at each other as they watched their friend attempt to flirt with someone.

Finally you guys said your goodbyes, and they all thanked you for being such a good tour guide. Mark was putting on his coat as he edged closer to you so his managers wouldn't notice.

“I’ll see you tonight, I’ll make sure that I look extra good just for you!”

[dontcare77ghj]

Faerie

Steve x reader x Thor

Notes; This is set in the same universe as Iron. There will be mentions to it but so I’ll add it here. But in case you don’t want to read it, reader is a fae. Her, Thor and Steve are in an established relationship.

You’d been on Earth for years. Had relationships with both men and women alike throughout the years but had never allowed yourself to feel the way you did with Thor and Steve. You’d never allowed yourself love any of the others as you allowed yourself to love them.

Perhaps this had something to do with the fact everyone else had abandoned you in your lifetime. Not your boys, they’d gone out of their way to stay.

Perhaps it had something to do with the fact, the others were all mortal and a part of you knew that one day they would all die. But not your boys, your boys were cursed to the same immortal thread you were.

There were a million thoughts that could be the reason but there was only one reason. You were never fully in love with the others. It was different with your boys. 

You loved your boys. They loved you. It was easy like that. You didn’t have to pretend to be human, you didn’t have to pretend to be normal. You were able to be you with them and they brought out aspects of your personality you hadn’t seen in years and some you didn’t know you even had.

The world was not as dark a place with your boys. They’d brought a light back to you and the world around you, something you hadn’t seen or felt in the decades before them.

“Okay, cancel any plans you had for tonight-.” Steve started as he entered the room with three black bags. “What are you two doing?” He questioned, stopping in the doorway with a confused look.

“Reading.” You answered, looking away from your book. “Are you feeling okay, Stevie?” You questioned him, tilting your head to the side.

“Are you feeling unwell, Steven?” Thor questioned him, looking at Steve in concern. “Would you like us to request Banner’s presence?” Steve continued to stare at the two of you in complete and utter confusion as he stuttered out failed attempts of sentences.

“Stop doing that. Both of you. You're either going to kill yourselves or seriously injury yourselves.” Steve said, dropping the bags and rushing towards the both of you.

“I’m not going to break anything.” Thor denied him, floating out of the man’s reach. 

“Y/N, stop that. You’re going to give yourself a brain haemorrhage.” Steve fussed, looking at you in worry. 

“I’m not even doing anything.” You whined.

“You’re reading a book upside down while floating. Why?” Steve questioned, running a hand down his face.

“I wanted to read; besides it won’t kill me. Worst case is I pass out.” You shrugged.

“And why is Thor floating?” He further interrogated.

“I was bored.” Thor stated, coming closer to you. “And now I’m not.” He smiled, wrapping his arm around you.

“Can you both please come down? You’re going to give me a heart attack.” Steve begged you both.

“What’s in the bags, Stevie?” You questioned, pointing at the discarded bags by the door. 

“I’ll tell you if you come down.” Steve bargained with you. You and Thor shared a look and then nodded. You gestured for Thor to hover above the bed before you released the magic, you’d placed on him and then floated down next to him.

“Now do we get to know?” You asked him, folding your wings into your back.

“We’re going out tonight.” Steve announced, picking up the bags. “Tony is throwing a costume party tonight and I thought we could make a date out of it.”

“That sounds like fun.” Thor said.

“Yeah that could be great fun.” You agreed. “What time does it start? Do we have enough time to get costumes?”

“No need.” Steve said, lifting the bags in his hands up. “Tony has graciously decided to provide everyone with costumes.” He said, handing you both a bag.

“Why do I get a bad feeling about this?” You questioned, looking at the bag with narrowed eyes.

“Because it’s a gift from Tony.” Steve sighed.

“I don’t understand why the two of you are so worried. I think it’s a marvellous idea and who does not enjoy a surprise?” Thor questioned, eagerly unzipping the bag. You and Steve followed suit and opened your bags with slight trepidation.

Steve pulled out a green hat, Thor pulled out an acorn styled one and you pulled out a green dress.

“I’m going to kill him.” You stated.

“Look who’s here!” Tony cheered, raising his drink towards the three of you. 

“Look it’s a dead man.” You responded in fake cheer.

“A dead man? No, I am Batman, you uncultured swine.” Tony mock gasped, handing you a drink.

“And Batman couldn’t pick anything better than Tinkerbell?” You grumbled, taking a long sip of your drink.

“I think I chose well. The three of you look great.” Tony said.

“See, my loves, I told you there was nothing to worry about.” Thor boomed, drinking out of the flask he’d brought. 

“I guess it could have been worse.” Steve admitted, taking a sip out of Thor’s flask.

“Oh yes it could.” You laughed, turning the boys towards the entrance. In walked Clint in a Robin Hood outfit complete with plastic bow and tights. “Jesus Christ Tony.”

“Hey, I gave him real pants, just like I did with your boys. Not my fault he chose the tights.” Tony said, raising his hands in innocence.

“Nice pants, Robin.” You smirked as Clint reached you all.

“Don’t start. Natasha’s already said every joke you can imagine.” He groaned, grabbing a drink.

“That’s because you look ridiculous.” Natasha smirked, quickly popping up behind him. Natasha actually looked quite happy with her outfit and glided over to the five of you with pep in her step. Tony had chosen well for Natasha giving her a Black Swan, Natasha was even wearing a pair of pointe shoes.

“Rude.” Clint grumbled as the rest of you laughed.

“I’m going to get another drink.” You said, kissing both boys. The party had been going for a few hours at this point and most of the guests were very drunk. The three of you had taken refuge on one of the large couches in the back, content on enjoying each other’s company and merely watching the drunken antics of the guests.

“Hurry back little fae.” Thor implored as you pulled apart. 

“Of course.” You smiled and made your way to the bar. As you grabbed your drink you took a moment to lean against the bar and jut watch your boys for a minute. Steve had had a bit too much drink and was leaning against Thor, who had his arm wrapped around Steve’s waist.

“What’s got you thinking so hard?” Clint questioned you, sliding up next to you. 

“I’m not thinking that hard.” You denied him. 

“Yes, you are. When you start thinking really hard, you get a crease right here.” Cling said, poking you in the forehead with his plastic bow. 

“Stop it.” You laughed, knocking him with your elbow. 

“Seriously, what’s on your mind, Tink?” Clint asked you again, throwing an arm around your shoulders.

“Just, just realizing I never thanked you, Clint.” You said, looking over at him with a soft smile.

“Thanked me? Thanked me for what?”

“For this life. For saving me all those years ago and for being my friend. It’s because of you I have this life and this family. It’s because of you Clint, I have my boys. Thank you, Clint.”

“The good scotch always makes you a bit sentimental, doesn’t it?” Clint said, making you laugh heartily.

“Yeah it really does.” You chuckled, resting you head against Clint’s shoulder as he pulled you closer. “But I still meant it.”

“You don’t need to thank me, Y/N. Trust me when I say, you deserve this. You deserve this family and you definitely deserve those two.” Clint said, squeezing your shoulders. “Speaking of them, I think you’re being missed.” He added, pointing across the room. 

Looking up you immediately turned to where you boys sat and saw your boys watching you. Steve raised the flask as Thor gestured you over.

“I’ll see you later, Clint.” You smiled, quickly kissing his cheek before flitting off to the boys. “Well hello to you too, Peter.” You giggled as Steve pulled you down onto his lap. “You’re in a touchy mood, aren’t you?”

“You both just look so good tonight.” Steve murmured, tracing his fingers around the base of your wings. A loud purr like hum escaped your throat as Steve touched the sensitive base surrounding your wings. 

“Perhaps we should take Steve upstairs. Help him lie down.” Thor suggested. 

“I think that’s a fantastic idea, hon.” You smiled, standing and pulling the two to their feet.

“We could go to that gallery tomorrow.” Steve suggested. “You know, the one that opened up near Beanies?”

“Yeah and we can get coffee after.” You agreed. “Hair tie.” You said, holding a hand towards Thor. “And maybe coffee before.” You continued.

“I agree with that plan.” Thor said as you tied his hair off. “Coffee sounds a fantastic addition to our date.”

“I don’t know how you two can drink so much coffee.” Steve said, taking the hair tie you offered him. 

“It wears off too fast to do any real damage to our systems.” You assured him, turning and kissing him quickly. “Just like how your system burns off the liquor so quickly.”

“I don’t care how quickly it burns off, it still makes me feel like shit.” Steve complained as the three of you all shifted so you were laying down in the bed. 

“You’ll feel better in the morning.” Thor promised him. “And if not we’ll make the pot extra strong.”

“Let’s do that anyway. The morning is going to be rough either way.” You grumbled, curling into further into the boys warmth. 

“Get some sleep, if you’re still sore in the morning we’ll run you a bath with one those bath bombs you love so much.” Steve promised you, pressing a kiss onto your temple. 

“You love them too you giant.” You mumbled, pressing your face into Thor’s chest. “I love you two. My giants.”

“And we love you too.” Thor said. 

“Our little faerie.”

Taglist

@piper-koko-barnes-rogers @hopingforbarnes @skeletoresinthebasement @agent-barnes40 @rvgrsbrns @smilexcaptainx @jelly-fishy-babie @starlingelliot

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Coming soon;

Wanda x reader x Vision

Steve x reader x Wanda

Bucky x reader x Loki

Natasha x reader x Tony x Bucky

Natasha x reader x Wanda

Tony x reader x Steve

[underthewingsofthblackeagle]

After her marriage with Frank Randall has failed and Claire Beauchamp flees from her violent husband, she finds refuge in the house of the Fraser/Murray family in Berlin-Wilhelmshorst. But then tensions arise between Britain (which has since left the EU) and some EU member states. All holders of an English passport are required to leave EU territory within six weeks … and suddenly Claire’s fate looks more uncertain than ever.

This story was written for the #14DaysofOutlander event, hosted by @scotsmanandsassenach​

Chapter 4: 14 Seconds (2)

                                                             When Jamie's car stopped just before the entrance of the gallery, it had already begun to rain in torrents. The sky had darkened to black and every now and then a loud thunder could be heard. The limousine driver parked near the entrance and then quickly jumped out of the car with a large black umbrella bearing the logo and name of the hotel in gold letters. He opened the door on the rear passenger side and held the umbrella so that Jamie could get out without getting wet. The chauffeur accompanied him the few steps to the gallery, then quickly hurried back to the car where he would wait for the guest to return.                As soon as he had entered, Jamie was greeted by a friendly member of the gallery staff. He paid the entrance fee and received the exhibition catalogue. Then he slowly started his way through the exhibition. It took him about forty minutes to reach the back room of the gallery. Already from a distance he saw the well-known photo showing the painter in front of his famous work "Wall". Only once had Richter had himself photographed in front of this work. This photo had then adorned the title page of the art magazine "art".                     Exactly in front of this two-meter by two-meter picture sat a petite woman, whose head was surrounded by an only slightly tamed, dark brown mass of curls. Carefully and anxious to make as little noise as possible, Jamie approached with some distance. A few minutes passed, then he heard the woman sniffing softly. She opened her handbag and was obviously looking for a handkerchief in a hurry. Jamie reached into the right pocket of his jacket and pulled out a pack of Tempo tissues, which he opened and held out to the unknown woman.         "Please, take one of these."

“Boston” by chabotphoto          The woman turned her head up to him and looked at him with big, red, weeping eyes.          Then she immediately looked back down to the ground.          "Don’t be ashamed. I know only too well how much this painting can speak to a person's soul," Jamie said softly.          "What?" asked the young woman and looked at Jamie again.          "I meant the picture..."          Jamie pointed with his right hand to the large photo she was sitting in front of. Claire looked over, then shook her head.          "I ... I didn't ..."          At that moment, the dark silk scarf she had wrapped around her neck began to come loose, revealing her ivory skin. To his horror Jamie discovered several dark red-blue strangulation marks there.          James Fraser had learned early on to hide his emotions well. Among the people who regularly dealt with him, he was known for the stoic mask he was able to put on. A mask that never betrayed what he really thought or felt. Ernst Neuenburger had once highlighted this characteristic of his Scottish friend as a further asset to his diplomatic missions, saying, that if Jamie ever got tired of his daily work, he could make a very good living as a poker player.                But at that moment every joule of stoic calm left him. A feeling of righteous anger pervaded his entire body and the desire to bring the one who had caused those marks and the pain and fears associated with them to justice almost overwhelmed him.                His emotions had obviously not escaped the young woman. Frightened, she grabbed her neck and immediately put the scarf back on. Then she looked down again. Now tears were dripping from Claire's face onto the floor. Jamie, who had not failed to notice this either, again held out the package of Tempo tissues to her.          "Please, take the whole package."              Claire reached for the tissues.          "Thank you."          "May I sit with you?" Jamie asked, pointing to the other side of the bench.          She nodded.

         Cautious not to get too close to her, he sat down on the other end of the bench.          A few minutes went by in which they both remained silent. But in James Fraser's head the thoughts were spinning. What could he do to help this young woman without endangering his mission? How could he approach her without frightening her timid nature even more? In what way could he gain her trust? And above all: How could he prevent her from being exposed to even more brutality?          In Claire's mind, too, one thought chased the other. Who was this man? What did he want from her? Could she trust him? Was he the help she had prayed for just a few minutes ago in a more or less conscious prayer? He did not look like an angel, more like the modern version of a tall Viking. And yet there was nothing about him that seemed threatening to her. His bright blue eyes gave her a feeling of ... a feeling of ...          Suddenly the soft, deep voice that had so kindly offered her the handkerchiefs before interrupted her thoughts:          "Excuse me, I haven't introduced myself. My name is Etienne Marcel de Provac Alexandre. I'm a wine merchant. I had a business meeting in town today."          Jamie gave her his right hand.          Claire, who had calmed down a bit, grabbed it and answered:          "Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp..."

“Hände” by Bru-nO    

         Usually, she would also have used the name "Randall", but she never wanted to have anything to do with that name again. Before she could even think about how to get rid of this name, the stranger's voice interrupted her thoughts again:          "Oh, from France too?"

         "Not exactly. My ancestors ... emigrated to England ... many centuries ago. Are you from France? You speak English with no accent?“          Jamie had to smile.

         "Well, my ancestors also left France centuries ago. Then they came to Germany ... through ... various countries. I ... I work as a wine merchant for a company in Berlin.“

         He reached into the right inside pocket of his jacket, took out a small silver case with business cards and handed one of them to Claire. She took the card and read attentively. Surprised, she suddenly heard herself wonder:          "How far is Berlin from here?"          Jamie thought for a moment.          "A little over 6,000 kilometers, I guess."          "And how far is it from London to Berlin?"          "About 1,000 kilometers."          "And you are in Boston on business?"          "Yes, I had a meeting with one of our business partners."          She nodded.          "I don't want to be indiscreet, but may I ask you something?"          Claire looked at him and Jamie realized that the trust he had just so carefully tried to build between them had disappeared from her eyes.

         But then the young woman nodded again.          "You ... you're not here for the exhibition?" he asked softly, almost whispering.

         "No," Claire replied just as softly, and then, to her own surprise, it flowed out of her:          "I ... I was looking for a place where ... I could have some piece, a quiet place to think, and since the church was closed ..."          "Sorry if I disturbed you. I didn’t mean to."          Jamie made preparations to stand up carefully. But to his surprise, Claire had quickly put her hand on his arm as if she were holding him back. Was she? She didn't know it herself.          At that moment, the voice of the friendly co-worker who had greeted Jamie sounded from the ceiling speakers. She warned the visitors to the gallery that it would be closing shortly.

         Jamie looked at Claire.          "What are you gonna do now?"

         He did not need to wait for an audible  answer, her eyes told him that she did not know.          "May I invite you to dinner, Mrs. Beauchamp?"

         What did that man want from her? Could she trust him? Or was there some other purpose behind his altruism. She had truested Frank once ... But what if he really just wanted to help her? What if he really just wanted to be kind to her? Maybe because the thought of his French ancestors had activated a kind of feeling of solidarity? Did she have any chance? Did she have a better alternative?          Claire nodded.          "Thank you."          Jamie got up and waited until Claire had also got up and taken her bag. Slowly they walked towards the exit. Through one of the large windows they saw that the rain that had begun to cover the city a few hours earlier, had gradually turned into a real storm. Jamie grabbed his smartphone and dialed the chauffeur's number. Shortly afterwards Carl appeared in front of the gallery with two large black umbrellas and together they walked quickly to the car.

“Schwarz und Weiß” by Pexels

         "To the hotel, Mr. Alexandre?"          "Yes, Carl, to the hotel."          Claire looked at Jamie in surprise.          But he briefly put a hand on her right arm to calm her down:          "My hotel has a wonderful restaurant. I arrived yesterday and will fly back to Berlin tomorrow. I didn't have time to explore other restaurants."          Half an hour later they were sitting at a table in the hotel restaurant and had ordered dinner. Claire had decided that she would make the most of the time they had together. She had nothing to lose and so she began to question Jamie, alias Etienne. How had his family come to Germany? Had he grown up in Germany? Had he studied? Did he have brothers and sisters? How long had he worked for the company that sent him to Boston? Did he enjoy his job? Did he want to pursue this profession all his life?          As they ate and talked, Claire carefully glanced over his hands. He was not wearing any rings. So the question of whether he was married seemed unnecessary. Now he looked at her questioningly, obviously he had noticed something.

“Glashütte Original Panomatic Date“ by GFP via WikiMediaCommons

         "You are wearing a very beautiful watch, Etienne," she said, hoping that he would not notice that her attention had not been focused on the piece of jewelry on his left wrist. Already in the car she had seen that he was wearing a watch with a blue dial that matched the colour of his eyes.

         "What kind of brand is it?" she asked, hoping to distract him further.

         "It's a Glashütte Original. Model PanoMaticLuna," he replied. Then he cut off another piece of his steak.

         "Looks expensive," she said, then led another fork of lettuce to her mouth.

         "Let's just say it wasn't cheap," Jamie replied before he in turn brought his fork with the meat to her mouth.

         "So you make good money?"

         The question came briskly and Claire almost bit her tongue. She hoped she hadn't offended him. But Jamie didn't seem to mind her remark.

         "I was lucky enough to close a very good sale a few years ago and my boss gave me a percentage of the profits. That's how I afforded this watch. I'm not giving much about wearing ... jewellery, but I've always wanted a reliable watch.

         "What was that you were selling at the time? It must have been quite extraordinary."        

         Beauchamp! Your mouth will finally get you into trouble.

         She was about to apologize when Jamie grabbed his wine glass, smelled it and then took a sip. This gave him a chance to think for a moment before he answered.

         Claire also reached for her wine glass. She looked at him and saluted him.

         "Well," he began, after putting his glass down, "I can't, of course, talk about business matters. But let's put it this way: I located some very old bottles of European wine a few years ago and was able to acquire them for someone else, a collector, at a very good price."        

         Fraser, you nut. I hope she takes it from you.

         He'd read that this sort of business was really happening, but extremely rare. He also wondered if his answer had sounded convincing. Yes, he'd bought this watch on a bonus. But he had not received it for finding and reselling old wine bottles. For weeks he had been negotiating in the hottest weather with a North African group of bandits who had kidnapped a German-Austrian team of archaeologists. After finally returning the twelve men and women to Vienna and Berlin on a Gulfstream 650, Ernst Neuenburger presented him with a cheque. With this money he had bought the watch he had been wearing ever since.          As dinner drew to a close, Jamie decided to play at full risk.                  "Claire, I know this must sound ... strange to you. But ... I'd like to help you. How would you feel about me booking you a hotel room? My company can cover the cost. It's no problem. I'll check with my boss later. You ... you don't ... you don't have to ... go back to ... him ... tonight."          He had spoken softly, almost in a whisper. Yet she felt as if her ears were ringing. Before she could even answer, Jamie had called a waiter and asked him to ask at the reception if he could book another single room.          She looked at him speechless. He just smiled.          Shortly after, the waiter came back and explained that unfortunately there were no more free single rooms because of the Boston Marathon, which would take place in two days.          "So that's all right then, but thanks for the suggestion," Claire said and reached for her wine glass again.          "There's another possibility," Jamie started and reached for his wine glass as well, "there's a fold-out sofa in my studio. You can take my bed, I'll have it freshly made and I'll take the sofa."          Claire placed her wine glass on the table with such force that he thought the stem would break off.          "What do you think?!" she thundered at him. "I'm not that kind of woman."          He would have been happy to answer her at the same volume. But some of the other guests were already looking to them and he wanted to avoid further fuss at all costs.          "And I, Claire, am not such a man," he replied in a calm but very specific tone. When she had calmed down a little, he went on quietly:          "I have a family in Berlin and I don't travel the world to bring vulnerable women to my room on my nights off."

         He put his hands in front of his face and massaged his forehead lightly. When he looked up again, he saw her shaking slightly. Since she was silent, he continued speaking:          "All I want, Claire, is to help you. I don't know who inflicted those marks on your neck and I'm not going to ask you about. But I don't want you to have to go back to him - if you don't want to. And I don't want you wandering around this town in the middle of the night in this weather too. I want to be sure that you're safe and that you're getting a good night's sleep. Tomorrow you can decide what to do next.          Tears ran down her cheeks and Claire quickly reached for her napkin to wipe them away.          "Claire, please! Allow me to help you."          He reached out his right hand to her. When she had put the napkin aside, she grabbed it.          "Thank you. You’re kind."          Jamie waved to the waiter and asked him to arrange for the pull-out sofa in his studio to be preoared and his bed to be freshly made up. He also asked to separate the two sleeping areas with screens. When the waiter returned shortly afterwards and announced that the guest's wishes would be carried out, Jamie asked that dessert be served.

“Lemon Meringue Tart" by la-fontaine          After they had eaten the lemon meringue tart and emptied the rest of the bottle of wine, Jamie stood up and offered his hand to Claire. Together they walked out of the restaurant to the cloakroom where they received their coats.          Soon after, Jamie opened the door to his studio and let Claire go in. When he entered after her, he saw that the service had carried out his wishes to the point. His bed had been freshly made and there was a second bathrobe on the bedspread. The bedroom had been separated from the living room area (where the sofa had now been converted into a pull-out bed) by a bamboo screen about 2 meters long. Claire also looked around carefully and Jamie thought he saw something like an expression of satisfaction and relaxation on her face.

         He took Claire's coat off and hung it with his in the cloakroom.          "Take a seat, please," he said, pointing to one of the armchairs in front of the gas fireplace. Claire let herself fall into the armchair more than she let herself sit down. It seemed as if she suddenly lost all her strength. Her eyes fell on the wedding ring that she still wore out of habit. She tried to take it off, but she couldn’t. Overwhelmed by feelings of pain and anger, she burst into tears again and began to sob. Jamie, who stood at one of the windows for a moment and looked down at the street, turned around immediately and took two big steps towards her. Without thinking about it any further, he knelt in front of her and put an arm around her.          "Claire," he said softly, "trust me, we'll find a way. You don't have to go back to him."     When she looked at him with her redish weeping eyes, he could hardly bear the sight and pulled her to him.            

[phantastictragedy]

Brighter Than The Stars

I impulsively wrote this so it’s not very good.

Pairing: Intrulogical (Main) there’s like some Moxiety and Roceit but only if you squint and it’s only implied.

Uhhhhh basically soulmate AU where when you meet ur soulmate u see the world in color but until then u see in black and white. Also like human AU. ALSO Remus is a painter/artist and logan is a broke college student tyvm

Logan did not mind that he couldn’t see the color in the world, it did not affect the way he lived his life from day to day. As long as he could get his work done and pull all-nighters studying for tests in black and white then that was really all that mattered to him. Of course, he could not deny that he wasn’t sometimes bothered seeing his friends around him bragging about how ‘this color would fit nice’ or ‘oh isn’t this just so pretty??’ Yeah, sure, maybe he’d wonder about how the world looked and how the stars may look with a different colored background behind them-- but he didn’t let it be a thing that distracted him from his studies. 

Chewing on the eraser of the pencil he had in his hand, and keeping his other hand holding his head annoyed, he stared at his first draft of an essay that was nowhere near being done. “How can I possibly write 20 pages for this?” He mumbled under his breath frustratedly. 

“Talking to yourself, again?” A hand was placed on Logan’s shoulder for a brief second before it was off and his taller friend Virgil was standing in front of him. He had his backpack on and a large cup of coffee in his hand, so Logan knew he had either woken up late or was about to finish some work he had procrastinated on. 

Logan glanced up at the boy who stood above him and shot him a slightly annoyed look on his face at the comment, “Huh-- doesn’t coffee make your anxiety worst?” Then he went back to writing a random sentence that he had thought of, not really necessary to his essay, but it would probably take some space away from the page. 

“Alright, alright I see now that you aren’t in the mood to joke around, but listen. Remember that time I went to that party alone because you agreed to go it and wanted to bring me, but then canceled last second and I couldn’t escape it and then YOU said that you were sorry and would make it up to me one day when I needed it?” Virgil said suspiciously, he ended it off with a smile in hopes Logan would not go back on his word. 

“Ah, yes. How could I forget when it is something you always bring up when you need something?” Logan sighed and placed his pencil down on the paper that was making him feel like he was losing his mind. “Go on, what is it you want me to do?”

Virgil rolled his eyes at the comment and let out a sigh, “Okay, Roman’s brother is having a little art gallery. We are all going, to support him. His art is super good-- he’s a little weird and loud and uh-- offensive. But-- Hey, don’t look away from me, Logan! Listen-- okay we know it’s hard for an independent artist to make it and we just want as many people to support him and be there if the night goes wrong. So, please go with us??” 

Logan groaned but pursed his lips and thought for a second. At least the favor wasn’t like the usual ones where it was just because of Virgil’s laziness, or his inability to communicate. This was a nice thing, and it seemed like a pretty easy task-- of course, he’d have to push some studies aside. “Alright, just give me a location and a time.” 

“Awesome! I’ll text you everything. Now I’ll let you get back to torturing yourself with trying to figure out how you’ll fill these empty pages.” Virgil grinned and nudged Logan before walking off. 

----

Logan was running a bit late, not super, unacceptable late; but a late that he would be embarrassed about. Despite his more fancy outfit of a black turtle neck with a dark blue suit jacket and matching pants (of course, the color isn’t something that actually mattered to him considering he couldn’t see it)-- his messy, dark brown hair was doing its own thing and was evidence of his lack of time to get dressed. Being late was the worst.

For how Virgil had spoken about the event, he had expected it to be empty-- but it was actually decently full. Logan pushed some messy strands of hair away from his face before he looked around to find his familiar group, which didn’t take to long when he heard...

“Nerd! Come over here, you were supposed to be the first one, aren’t you the responsible one?” Logan groaned and shot his head towards where an overly fancy-dressed Roman stood with all of his friends.

Logan made his way to the small group before speaking, “My apologies, I got a bit carried away with my studies. I hope I did not miss too much.” 

“Oh, don’t mind Roman, he’s just mad he wanted to be casually late, but ended up being the first,” Dee said shooting Logan a grin. 

Roman pursed his lips and let out a groan, “Ugh- you don’t have to tell everyone that I was first! It really is not that important, sure I wanted to show up and make a fancy entrance, sure I wanted everyone to shout my name, but I think we should take note of how much of a supportive brother I am.” 

“Ah, I’m sure that was your whole intention from the start, being supportive.” Before Roman could interrupt Logan’s sarcastic comment he went on, “So, where is the Artist anyways? I’d love to put a face to the artwork.” Logan said looking around to see the paintings hanging neatly on the wall-- well to say neat was generous. They were actually scattered, but somehow it had made them all the more appealing-- it was nice to look at everything. 

“Pftt-- he’s talking to that big crowd over there, if you want to meet him it seems like you’re going to be waiting for a while,” Virgil said before going back to his phone. 

“Or you could go back in time and arrive first, then you for sure would have met Remus.” Roman grinned at the nerdy boy. 

Logan rolled his eyes annoyed. 

“As I said, don’t pay attention to him. His pride is hurt right no-”

“I am a supportive brother, Dee!” Roman said placing a hand over Dee’s mouth, just noting from the taller boys’ eyes, it was noticeable that he was smiling. 

Most of the people had left seeing as though the art gallery was ending. Patton and Virgil were sat outside so Virgil could have some time away from people and Dee and Roman had gone to get the group some food. Logan was still staring at the paintings on the wall, most of them had been sold, according to Roman. That really surprised nobody after seeing the paintings. 

There was one thing that was on Logan’s mind and that was wondering how the paintings must look with color. He wondered if he’d missed any details, or if the meaning would change, maybe this paint depicted fear to him but was actually happy. He sighed, eyes glued on the painting. 

“You know? I think that one is sold, but I could always make you another one.” A voice he didn’t recognize said. He assumed it was from Remus. 

Still, Logan’s eyes barely moved from the painting, “I was just making sure I didn’t miss a detail. Although if you had any art that didn’t get sold, I’d be happy to  buy that.” 

A soft chuckle escaped his lips before he sighed contently, “I’m Remus.” 

The sound that escaped Remus’ lips made Logan’s heart do twirls in his chest, he’d never felt that before, he especially had never felt the weird tickling sensation in his stomach. “I’m Logan.” He eventually turned to look at Remus and smiled. 

Nobody ever tells you how it happens. It’s truly hard to explain and it’s said it happens differently to everyone. Some will say it happens in a snap and it’s like walking in on a surprise party just for you. Some say it very slowly starts, from the center of your view to the end. Some people say that they don’t even remember how or when it happened and they shock themselves when they realize it happens-- of course it takes a couple of seconds. 

For Logan-- the taller man standing before him was the only thing in color, he was pale, was not dressed super casual-- like black shirt sweatpants casual, and had his hair put up into a small messy bun, bangs holding a gray color. Then slowly after the world began to gain a tint, and then it’s full color. He stood in shock for a couple of seconds, staring at Remus completely confused and waiting for a just as confused reaction from him. 

“You alright?” Remus said slightly tilting his head. 

“I-- are you-- not seeing this too?” Logan said 100% losing his proper composure. 

“Yeah-- I see you look like you’re about to be sick at my art gallery. I hope you had nothing gross to eat because it will be a bad time for all of us. Not me though, don’t worry I don’t judge, be as gross as you want to be here.” Remus spoke so casually that Logan was sure he was losing his mind. 

“You-- you’re my soulmate.” Was all he managed to get out, as he ran his fingers through his messy hair.

“I’m your wha--” Remus squinted his eyes for a couple of seconds before the widened and he looked at Logan, “Oh my gosh-- wait a minute-” The taller boy whispered, he looked over at his paintings, not half bad. “God-- I hope that is the real color of blood.” 

The comment caused a small laugh to escape Logan’s lips. “You’re not what I imagined.” 

“Is that good?” Remus asked subtly moving a bit closer to the shorter boy. 

Logan thought for a second, he looked at Remus and examined his beautiful green eyes, they were so vibrant and held admiration in them. Never did he think that someone would be staring at him the way he was being stared at now..it made him feel-- warm.  

“Yes.” 

--

After a week of spending time with Remus, his soulmate, he had found that it was true what Virgil had said. He was, in fact, a little weird, definitely offensive, and for sure loud. Logan loved it. It was nice to have someone pull him away from his studies and have fun with him-- while also in some way keeping him from worrying about them. 

Today was no exception, Logan was sat at his desk when he heard knocking on his window and then the loud and quick sliding of it opened only to reveal Remus in all his glory. He truly looked like the cutest robber to Logan, with his black ripped jeans and green shirt that somehow perfectly matched his eyes-- Remus fully hopped in and fixed his hat that seemed to have fallen and completely covered his eyes, when his vision returned he was met to find his soulmate smiling up at him. 

“Oh, Hello! Hope I’m not interrupting anything.” Remus smiling widely. 

“You know, you’re allowed to use the door. There is nothing stopping you from using the door.” Logan said letting out a content sigh. 

“Oh what’s next, you’d like me to do pee in the bathroom?” 

“Yeah- I’ve been meaning to talk to you about th-” 

“ANYWAYS-- we should get going. I want to show you already!” Remus said leaning down and scooping his boyfriend up, adding in an extra swirl. 

Logan let out a semi loud noise of surprise, that was a new thing. “Wait-- I don’t know if I can tonight, Remus. We were out all yesterday and I--” 

“Hey.” Remus said calmly looking into his soulmates pretty blue eyes, he swore they looked like the night sky. “You’re going to be okay, you’re super smart and I think you deserve such a long break after constantly breaking your spine to do work. Please, tonight, come with me.” 

Logan knew from the second Remus came into sight through that window, he would leave with him. It was just a skill the taller boy had gained in the last week. “Fine, but can we please use the door.” 

The walk to the small park near where Logan lived was full of random questions that Remus would ask whenever he saw something around him. Logan, of course, would answer leaving his soulmate to making big impressed noises. The shorter boy was just glad he had agreed to this, the sky held a gorgeous color that he had never really thought he’d ever see, everything was so much more beautiful. By the time they had gotten there, it was dark. 

His thoughts and observations were interrupted when once again he was grabbed, but this time it felt like the arms had let go and he was falling-- which didn’t last long because then Remus grabbed the nerd before he fell and gently laid him against the soft blanket on the floor. “I set this up just for you. I know we haven’t gotten to stargaze and this is what you were looking most forward to doing now that you can see color.” 

Before Logan could say something, Remus threw himself next to Logan and wrapped his arm around the nerd, softly pressing his lips against the boy’s cheek and jawline, “You don’t have to thank me, I just want to make you happy.”

Logan turned his face and stared into his soulmate’s eyes, it had felt like time had completely stopped, suddenly looking at the stars wasn’t the most exciting thing. It’s hard to tell if they leaned in at the same time, or maybe it was Logan. One thing is for sure that they both had managed end up in the same place, with their lips gently pressed against each other. It was something that Remus had wanted ever since they’d met, but something Logan insisted they wait on. Suddenly, he wished he hadn’t, he’d wish he’d just did this first. 

Remus was, surprisingly, first to pull away, “Does this mean-- that I can start calling you my boyfriend?” 

Logan smiled, “Does this mean that’s what you’re asking me to be?” 

“If the answer is yes.” 

“Yes.” 

Silence had fallen over them as they both looked up at the start, fingers intertwined. The stars shined against them and it had truly felt like a spotlight hitting them, allowing them to know that this was real and this was perfect. 

The stars were a lot more stunning than he had thought they’d be in front of the dark blue sky, but he’d realized there was something so much better that he didn’t need to wait for night to see. 

His world.