#such thing only could be provided by a snowing sandwich

[captainswanfire]

hmm hmm wicked snowing

[blues824]

Prompt 30 with past Lilia if that is possible! And having baby Sliver there just clinging to reader🌸💗

~ @toconolaw | 🌸💗 anon

AWWWWW!!!

You requested: “Baby, It’s Cold Outside…” from the Fluffcember prompt list.

Preface: Reader is human, and is married to Lilia, and is female.

Lilia Vanrouge

Ever since your husband had found Silver in the forest, you had become the child’s mother. You had become the happy family you had always dreamed about, and you wouldn’t change anything about it, especially not as you are feeding a bottle to Silver and Lilia is sitting in the living room armchair in your cottage.

Silver was getting so big. Not too long ago, he had taken his first steps, and the bat fae made a remark about how he would be a fine knight for the young prince. Speaking of, he as well as Queen Maleficia were common visitors in your comfortable domicile. 

You snapped out of your thoughts when you looked at the clock, and you realized that you needed to get started on supper soon. However, you would need to go to the market to get everything you needed. You wanted to keep it light for today, so you were going to make grilled cheese sandwiches with tomato soup. You started writing a list, balancing the pen in one hand and the baby in the other, of everything you would need. 

“Darling, I need to go to the market to pick up a few things for supper. Please don’t burn the house down while I’m gone.” You stood up from your seat at the dining table, carrying Silver to Lilia and setting him in his lap. You placed a kiss on his lips as you headed towards the door, but you suddenly felt something tug on your dress.

You looked down to see Silver, eyes tearing up, clinging onto your skirt.

“No leave, mama!” He said before starting to cry. You picked up the crying child, started to shush him, and you got kind of irked at your husband, going to tell him off, but he was right behind you.

“Dearest, it’s snowing outside, and you could get lost out there. We will be fine without supper, as we have other food in the house,” He took the crying child from your arms, starting to rock him back and forth.

“But I wanted to make tomato soup. I know of your love of tomatoes, and I was going to make grilled cheese sandwiches to accompany it. Plus, it’s something for Silver as well, since he can have a bite of it and start to get used to actual food,” You pouted. However, you felt like standing your ground on the matter.

“Y/N, I said no. It’s cold out there, and the last thing any of us need is for you to fall ill. How will our son cope without his mother?” He lifted the baby’s face up to his, pouting just as Silver was, making your heart break at how brokenhearted he looked… Silver, not Lilia. Speaking of, the child started making grabby hands towards you, his chubby cheeks were so cute.

You took him into your arms, showering his face in kisses as he started giggling, and that’s when you noticed that your husband had placed his hand on the small of your back and started leading you back to the living room.

“You little piece of-” You started, but he placed his hand over your mouth to prevent you from finishing what you were going to say.

“Watch your tongue, dear~ We have a child in our midst…” He said with a smirk. He knew that you would prioritize the baby, as you wanted him to have the best upbringing that you could provide, and whenever you were angry at him, he would use the baby as a shield.

“Fine, you win. But only because Silver doesn’t want me to leave,” You were still pouting, but Lilia sat back down in his armchair. You thought it was all over, when he suddenly pulled you to sit in his lap. You let out a squeal of surprise, and Silver was laughing again.

“My beloved family, with my beautiful wife and my handsome son… What more could I ask for?” He said with a dreamy tone to his voice, leaning in to give you a kiss on the lips.

“...A grilled cheese…” You said with a pout, making him laugh, a beautiful sound to accompany your son’s babbling.

[dev1lm4n]

winter coat

read pt. 2 offering here!

pairing: jackson-era!joel miller x f!reader

summary: in which you gave a blowjob to trade for a winter coat back in the dark days, little do you know, that same guy is now your neighbor.

warnings: explicit (18+), details of blowjob, prostitution, unspecified age gap.

word count: 1.3k

notes: this is my first time writing a proper fic so im so sorry if i fucked things up ^^

The last time you saw that man was from a rather precarious point of view. A sight in which only a selected few could indulge in, perhaps several of his actual lovers from the old world and a line of nameless whores from the new world. You in particular fall in the nameless whores category, which sounds faintly depressing if you were to go into detail, but it's not the worst thing per say. You'd say that it's a fair trade for a winter coat.

An incredibly warm winter coat that's fucking lined with actual padding and not the shitty fraying kind either. To add on to that, it comes in a pretty periwinkle shade. Frigid temperatures, brisk winds, and snow wouldn't be as agonizing with the new addition. It's not a terrible view either, especially if you were to focus more on the little things happening all around you in contrast to the elephant in the room.

Your blown out pupils somehow managed to make out the figure that's standing in front of you, hazily focusing on one thing before searching for another to be interested in. First point of interest being the beads of sweat that's dribbling down his jugular vein, following each and every curves of his clavicle until it dipped all the way down his sun-kissed skin and onto the thick of his flannel. He's always wearing flannels. You're not sure if that's some sort of fashion choice he made or if it's just a consequence to the fucked up new world order.

Either way, your interest made it's way upwards towards the scruff patch right around his jaw. Right underneath the thin line of grimace he wore. How he bit his curved lip, sandwiching it between his canines before letting out what seems to be a deep groan. Was it of blissful pleasure or of annoyance that you weren't enveloping his cock further than he desired? You couldn't decide just yet when your glossy eyes flickered towards his eyes.

His gaze was penetrating the air all around you, if that was even possible to begin with. It's dull and tired as if he hadn't slept for days on end. Crow's feets provided what you felt was a sweet decoration on each corners of his half-lidded eyes. He's furrowing, the small wrinkles between his eyebrows and the broader ones on his forehead scrunched up just the right amount. You'd chalk up that he's a lot older than you. Probably has seen how jolly life was like before humanity went under. You were having the time of your life scrutinizing his every delectable features when you could feel yourself being pushed even further against the thick of his cock.

Enough that your nose is grazing right where his shaft ends. Enough to have you breathless and moaning against his warm tip. He's getting rougher and way more sloppy you think. The sloshing noises grew lewd and deafening. A drop of pre-cum trickled down the ends of your gaping lips, smeared onto the polyester of your lengthy shirt. Arousal steamed your vision and clouded your hearing. He was heavy against the base of your tongue, but you're not in any position to complain. Not when you're willingly kneeling for him, letting him fuck your throat with wild abandon, just for you to trade with a nice pair of winter coat.

That man is now standing in front of you once again and you're about to loose it. This time, he's only showing glimpses of his ruggedness from behind a comically large front door. His glare traveled with unnerving thoroughness. Up and down, left to right, as if deciding whether or not you're a threat to the integrity of his house. Everything in your pretty little mind is telling you to bolt out of his front doorstep. Erase the trail that you've left in the chilly white snow. Trade back the flours, eggs, and chocolate you picked up on the market. Forget you've ever thought of showing some odd version of hospitality by baking soft cookies for the new neighbors. But you stood there, frozen.

A puff of air escaped your lips as you opened it ever so slightly to come up with an excuse, to churn up every last bit of your courage to greet him. To greet Joel Miller who you used to whore yourself up to earn a few more ration cards, a few more jackets and socks, or maybe some moonshine to drown your pathetic life with.

He took a step forward, out of the shadow and into an array of orange emitted from the afternoon sun. You thought that perhaps he's decided that you're either pretty enough to entertain or dumb enough not to be a hassle. You couldn't be certain, but he sure has the same ol' grimace accentuating the bows of his lips. God. He even still had those pretty curly locks that came hand in hand with his eyes, even when it's greying on multiple ends. You could even swear that he still had on the same flannel that he used when you blow him for a winter coat. He's still.. handsome no matter how many years passed by. Your homemade cookies shook in its basket as you staggered backwards, maintaining a healthy distance that your pounding heart could tolerate.

Maybe if you rationalize this, things will start being okay. Maybe this situation isn't as bad as you think it is. Maybe.. maybe he forgot who you were. He's dealt with whores of your kind every day of the week, right? You're almost one hundred percent sure that you're not the first and definitely not the last gal to use their bodies as a currency in this fucked up apocalyptic world. So, logically speaking, he shouldn't have remembered any of their faces. He shouldn't have remembered your face.

Unfortunately for you, Joel Miller doesn't work by the logics and he's here calling you out by your real name. It rolled off his tongue like thick honey. Smoothly, but with just enough caution. He used the version that you've only told a handful of people, even when you're in the safe embrace of Jackson. The version that you don't remember telling him, but apparently you did in the midst of doing unspeakable things with him. You were aghasted. Realization hit you like a truck, but what absolutely demolished your sanity was the fact that he remembered even after all these years. He remembered the name of the whore he's fucked.

"Hi," you squeaked out. "Hello," he parroted out an equally dry greeting, almost as if he's mocking how much tension grew between the two. You swallowed the liquid bile that's piling up in your trachea, only then are you able to bring your hand forward to offer a stupid basket of cookies. Stupid because you've done little to none research on who your new neighbors was and thought that chocolate chip cookies were a good gift to a smuggler. Joel Miller was all things at once, but never a cookie guy. "I see you're still wearin' that coat." Joel reached over for the basket you've presented, craddling the stiff handle with his large calloused fingers. You knew exactly what he's talking about.

You're still wearing that damned periwinkle winter coat you traded for. The same one you've sucked his cock for like years ago. You turned pink at the thought, embarassed and mortified. It's not like you didn't get a chance to earn new winter equipments here in Jackson. It's just that nothing ever came close to how soft the padding on this damned coat is. "Yeah." You nodded. "Still warm." That's all you had to offer to him, before you trudged back hastily into your doorstep. Clumsily shutting the door close, while he continued to watch from a distance.

Curious.

[peachetteprice]

Days of Old | John "Soap" MacTavish

Summary:

It's never easy to watch something drag the life out of a loved one's eyes.

Content Warnings: mentions of cancer (severe), mentions of chemotherapy and radiotherapy (severe), suggestions of depression/anxiety-like behaviours (moderate), sexually suggestive themes, angst...

Word Count: 1.4K

Johnny, who didn't explicitly cry, but who also did nothing whilst the tears wept down his cheeks as you stood behind him in the bathroom, electronic shaver in hand as you let fall strand after strand of his grand mohawk in preparation for his up-coming chemotherapy regime.

He was more sunken around the cheekbones, then, hollowed out to resemble someone much thinner, with much less overt brawn than the boyfriend whose muscle you'd always loved. He couldn't lift you over his shoulder anymore, and he groaned every time he stood up from the sofa, but he was still yours. He spent a little more time getting ready in the morning, hunched over the sink to brush his teeth and wash his head, and he often hadn't the energy to hop into the shower for a full-body soak, but Jesus if he didn't conserve every ounce of motivation to smarten himself up in a suit and tie for a simple date night in your flat.

If he did succumb to the fatigue whereby stepping into the shower felt like climbing a rock-face in the boondocks of Mexico, he'd lower himself into the bathtub and you'd dote on him, straddling his hips in the warm water, providing him with all of the pampering he deserved for as long as he liked (and collecting swathes of bubbles to make wizard-like beards and elaborate clown-hair on his chin and head, of course).

And when he first openly sobbed at himself in the kitchen, looking at you with a forlorn expression, like a broken man, as he explained, most devastatingly, that he couldn't open the bleedin' jar of mayonnaise to make himself a chicken sandwich, you took that sucker with pride and bashed the plastic end of a knife into the rim to loosen the seal before - pop - it opened, and you joked that he was finally joining the club of people with exceptionally weak wrists, which he managed a laugh at.

On days when he had to visit Glasgow Royal Infirmary, he was undoubtedly nervous.

Always had been, apparently.

Used to entertain himself with a Hot Wheels toy car and roll it along the paint lines on the wall in the children's ward like it was his own personal racetrack. Treated the hospital like it was a playground just for him, like he did most things as a child. Maeve, his eldest sister, told you that. A sweetheart, she was. Compiled a care basket for him when he went for his first round of chemo, for which his other three sisters pitched in to give him a bountiful supply of Terry's chocolate oranges - his biggest guilty pleasure - what could only be described as a lifetime supply of cheesy rom-coms and hard action movie DVDs - his second biggest guilty pleasure - and a heartfelt card that said 'get better soon or I'll take your job with those hunking men', scrawled by his youngest sister, Elsie.

Keep him laughing, she whispered to you as they handed him the hamper. It's no good for a smile like his to be wasted.

So, if there was ever an opportunity to do something silly, you would do it. Like the time in January when the surrounding schools shut due to heavy snow and you, along with every parent and child, drove to the nearest park to showcase how brilliant - meaning pathetic - you were at walking on frozen ice, following which you ended up in A&E with a sprained ankle, which was entirely worth the pain, if only to watch that cheeky grin flourish on his face when you wallopped into the frost.

Or the time when you'd 'accidentally' negated to put the timer on the oven, to come back to burnt Cumberland sausages that had him sat on the floor in the doorway, creasing with laughter until his belly ached as you tapped onto the counter what was, by that point, nothing more than a stick of carbon that, when you cut into it, was pure charcoal.

Or even when, in waiting for the radiologist to step back into his office, you became ardently inquisitive toward one of the decorations on the wall above his computer. It was a thick wooden frame of numerous compiled family portraits, and, after noticing a cute cat on the brick wall within one of the photos that begged to be pointed at - in one embarrassing moment - the covering of the photo fell, sending, what Johnny described as 'the Louvre' amounts of broken glass over the entire length of the man's desk.

Johnny had never howled so loudly before, having to nuzzle his face into your neck to maintain some level of composure as, with the most befuddled expression, the radiologist re-entered the room as you explained that the unknown cat in his family photograph - which, in a surprising turn of events that sent Johnny into madness, was not even his cat - caused you to leave his office a crime scene.

"He's gonnae hate ye for that, lass." Johnny creened into your ear as the radiologist stepped out to grab a few papers from the printer. "Bet he's thinkin' about a dozen ways to tack that on the end of a non-deductable."

It was difficult to stay poised as Johnny's giggles emanated through the office. If anything, they would have thought you were one with kidney cancer with the scowl you had to keep on your face to stop from bursting.

When the radiologist did return and swept some of the broken glass from his desk, he leant over his knees to present a wad of paper. And, through a rambling conversation of terminology that definitely went over Johnny's head - and yours, but you nodded like you understood everything - he ended his monologue with the rather unporovoked, ecstasy-inducing fact that Johnny's cancer was... gone?

And then neither of you spoke.

And the radiologist panicked and asked if you'd heard him; if you'd understood what he meant by all that he said, and it was only at that point when you lost the scowl, and all previous emotion came to boiling point, bubbling beneath your skin, bursting its banks into such a wide smile that you thought your cheeks might have ripped at the seams.

"Gone?" You quieried. "As in..."

"Well, yes." He stammered. "For now, it seems that the cancer has gone, but, like we say to every patient, it will be a period of five years with intermittent check-ups to see whether the cancer has fully disappeared..."

You turned to Johnny. The look on his face was indescribable. But if you did your best to, it was a mixture of stupifying disbelief, unfathomable alleviation, and ineffable glee.

He could barely speak.

"I - does that - so - are - is it--"

It took him five minutes of stuttering just to get a simple question out.

And after all had been said, discussed, reasoned, and fortified, it was time to leave the hospital, not to return for weeks until another check-up; no more chemo, no more radio - a journey in which, for the first time in a long time, Johnny was giddy all the home.

You could see it in his gorgeous blues. They no longer dove across the passing scenery like he was searching to place his gaze on something better, something that might take the misery from inside his mind, but that he could never locate. When he looked at you and caught your thigh with his palm, it was not just a place for him to rest. It was him, coming home, like he had done when he was exhausted from a mission back in the field, scouring for the one person who made him feel grounded; tangible:

You.

And in the evening, after gorging himself on the largest pepperoni pizza you'd ever seen, belly plump with food, he simply let you crawl over him, pressing much-needed kisses over every inch of his naked body, squeezing him tight whenever the dread of losing him swept in again, tighter than you'd ever hugged him because you'd been scared to hug him tight before, but now had no reason not to. You wanted - no, needed - him to know that he would never have to be afraid of the fear of losing you, of losing himself, because the nightmare that plagued him would never pull him back, that was fact, and you would never let it take him away from you again, like it had before, even if it meant wrenching his cold body from your bare hands.

| Masterlist |

[sspextkr]

okay okay

so like I love zombies and I love tbosbas sooo tbosbas characters(I think you only do the guys right? 🤔if so, my fav dude is coryo) x reader in a zombie au :3

🔦 ocean eyes - snowjanus/gn!reader

burning cities and napalm skies one of dr gaul's latest creations– or monstrosities– has broken containment and caused a full blown apocalypse in the capitol. it's been chaos for the past few weeks.. but at least you had them.

trigger warnings: none that i can think of?? just lots of fear and anxiety.

a/n: you're getting the oneshot treatment because i fucking love this idea ( btw i write for everyone but mainly the boys because I am a giant fag). also sejanus is here because :3

it was storming. hard. rain battered down against the roof of the snow's penthouse– what you were now calling home base. the walk was tedious, but it provided safety in many ways.

coriolanus had run out to see if he could find any food.. anywhere. this wasn't his first rodeo, the war from a decade ago acting as a training session for him of some sorts.

you decided to try and get some amount of rest, exhausted by the whole ordeal. the outbreak started a month ago, and you had barely slept a wink since. how you were going was still a mystery.

sejanus wasn't anywhere to be found either, having run off to perform his own errand. being alone for this long caused anxiety to settle in your stomach, sprawling up your throat and squeezing your neck, nearly choking you.

you were curled up on coriolanus' bed, hugging the stuffed dog he had tightly to your chest. it smelled like him– roses and old books, oddly enough. each time the thunder would rip through the clouds above, you'd clutch it a little tighter.

after a good while of drifting in and out of sleep, the door to coriolanus' room opened. your head shot up, and you were met with the comforting sight of sejanus. "just me, babe. you can go back to sleep."

".. wasn't asleep in the first place." you said, laying your head back down. sejanus slipped off his rain soaked jacket and muddy boots before laying down beside you.

"when was the last time you got any sleep..?" you didn't answer, but it told him everything he needed to know. ".. c'mere." nearly effortlessly, he pulled you in closer, draping a leg over your own as he settled your head against his chest. "try. please."

you closed your eyes, pressing your cheek against his chest. the sound of his heartbeat– sturdy and slow– acted as a lullaby, allowing you to drift off.

coriolanus returned home after another hour or so, completely drenched in rain and sweat. what he wouldn't give for a shower. noticing his bedroom door was open, not closed as he had left it, he peaked his head into his room and found his two lovers laying on his bed, supposedly asleep.

as quietly as he could, he stepped into the room, stripping off his own soaked garments and throwing them into a pile on top of sejanus' own.

speak of the devil. "y'find anything?" sejanus asked, voice thick with sleep.

coriolanus shook his head no, pulling his drenched t-shirt off over his head. "not yet.. i'll go out again once the rain clears. how were things here?"

".. they're okay. finally got them to sleep, thank god.. i think this is really starting to get to them."

"it's getting to everyone." coriolanus grabbed a towel off of the back of a chair and began to dry his hair. ".. but i know what you're trying to say."

"just wish there was more i could do.. any news on that cure yet?"

"with dr. gaul having been killed this morning? no." coriolanus laughed sadly, placing the towel down and smoothing out his damp curls with a hand.

sejanus' eyebrows shot straight up. "killed-?"

"shh.." the blond sat down on the bed beside the two of you, leaving you sandwiched in the middle. "it's a long story.. i'll tell you later. why don't you try and get some sleep, too?"

"it's fine.."

"sej," coriolanus continued. "please. just.. a nap or something. for me?"

sejanus glanced at coriolanus before glancing down at you. he gave in, resting his head on his pillow again. coriolanus sighed in what felt like relief before laying down himself, staring up at the ceiling. sejanus reached a hand over you to grab coriolanus', giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"we're gonna make it through this." the brunette spoke.

".. we can only hope. the odds aren't exactly in our favor."

[wildbluesorbit]

London II: Uncensored || JTK

18+MDNI

LONDON SERIES MASTERPOST

Paring: Jakexreader(f)

A/N: Howdy! I am honestly so nervous about the turn of this story. Although London is only my first, and is honestly a big smut sandwich, I’m a whore for character development and really wanted to challenge myself to dive into the potential of these characters …for now. This piece in particular exists in two variations. In the interest of everyone looking for the easier read, mama @tommie-gvf advised a revision to care for all their soft readers, which dawned the “London: Refined” alteration. However, for all my trauma junkies alike you’re in the right place. I still wanted to share my original draft for the full teeth-gritting, soul-grating, angsty flourish. I’m really crossing my fingers y’all enjoy the twists and turns to come but I am honestly already awed by all the love received. As always I am very open to criticism so pretty please let me know what you think!

p.s. I apologize for all these alliterations you’re about to read

Summary || Wounds fresh and head spinning, you try and find your footing without Jake in the picture. However, you are found by the dawn of a different peril.

Content Warnings || toxic relationship, depressive disposition, sickness such as fever, fatigue, vertigo, nausea, vomiting, and fainting, verbal aggression, graphic depictions of physical aggression/voilence/sexual assault and bodily injuries such as bruising, gashing, swelling and inflammation, and body aches, ptsd, nervous breakdown, mentions of alcoholic consumption and drugging, brief mentions of being undressed and bathed while unconscious, technical kidnap, allusions to rape

Word Count || 7.4k+

The sweeping sound of the door swinging shut behind Jake only solidifies his parting words. Like a fool praying for snow in the desert, you remain still, naively pinning for him to rush back through that door and take back what he said. You swear to every star if he will just reappear you’ll forgive and forget every trivial thing he’s said to hurt you.

You are more than capable of leading a fruitful life without him, you just have no desire to. With every molecule of your being you ache for him to please just walk back through that door.

When he doesn’t, you can’t help the hot tears that now downpour.

Consternation weighs heavy on your limbs with the understanding of just how bonded you had become with the concept that there is always a next time with Jake. You had taken advantage, maybe even abused, his phone number underneath your finger on speed dial; you became cozy in the comfort of knowing that when you pressed it he would always answer.

It harrows you to think Jake might be right. Maybe you are no good for each other. Maybe he did the right thing. Too little too late is a cruel ascertainment; Jake is not just an ecstasy, a high you procured an addiction for, but he had become a sanctuary. One you’ve never met in anyone else. A shelter not even you could provide for yourself and like a child you went and broke it.

You will your begrudging limbs to ooze forward but as soon as your feet lead their trek the walls around you begin to whirl worse than before. You don’t dare let it deter you though; you fear the grief that threatens to swallow you whole in that very bathroom if you’re to stop for air.

You catch the corners of the sink for stability, your disheveled appearance ruthlessly relays your casualties. You smooth your hair down, wipe your running mascara, and run your hands down your skirt.

You sloppily make your exit out of the bathroom, no longer being able to withstand the ghosts of the haunted room where Jake had just kissed you goodbye.

You spill into the hall and rashly scour for any signs of your deserter. You figure he’s fled from the flat entirely as his twin has now vanished as well. Despite the vertigo, you propel yourself towards the table where Claire is without a Kiszka twin as well, but is now flirting with her own stranger.

Positively glowing, she radiates delight. A presence to be demolished by the foreboding whirlwind that you are. The last thing you want is to be the helpless girl who’s best friend can’t finish her regaling tale of a handsome stranger because of your shitshow, especially when Claire has made her stance sorely evident.

Mercy for Claire’s night presents itself in the form of a fleeting drive-by. You swiftly breeze past with a sweeping touch on her shoulder and briefly whisper in her ear that you need some air and are going to step out for a minute.

You know she protests but you make it your mission to distance yourself by half the room by the time she can process your abrupt bulletin and conceptualize her inquiries of, “But..," and, "What happened?”

It helps that your vertigo has germinated past tolerance; the sensation demands you not slow down or your body might continue its course without you, making a rolling tumbleweed out of you, held prisoner by this illness’s tempestuous winds.

You clumsy and cleat a path through the thicket of socializing bodies until you finally topple into an exit. You sling your body mass against the heavy portal to be transported to a stairwell that you pray spits you out in the main street.

You thrust yourself upon the railing and cling to it as you slosh down the stairs like a teetering toddler. The stairway traffic makes its way around you as if you are some stationary obstacle, some even slow down to behold the scene unraveling on the steps. Fortunately, the only concern that permeates through the fumes is the night’s cool air at the bottom of the staircase that promises remedy, and you have only a flight to go.

You brake your staggering down the incline to briefly rest against the wall. Fatigue has found a home as it settles in your bones. However, regret seeks you out the moment you become motionless as the spinning now invites a monstrous nausea.

Your want for fresh air has mutated into a need for your own bed. Any and all will to stay awake evaporates into the torrid air, and the concept of supporting your own weight any longer than necessary becomes a daunting notion.

You coach yourself into mobility again, telling yourself that you just need to make it out to the street and into a cab. You would feel better after you have a chance to recompose in a taxi until you reach your flat.

After you endure the marathon of the final flight, you achieve ground level; the price being your senses, including your best judgment, fogged by the fever’s stupor.

Foolishly, you pour out through the first exit door you spot and catch your weight against the opposing wall of a narrow alley.

You clamber against the wall a bit further to see where the alley lets out. By the time you realize the backway has no outlet the door has swung itself shut, the unnerving slam of the metal mass sending a jolt through your entire frame

You sluggishly creep back towards the door, your stomach kneading itself into nauseating knots as you discover the steel barricade is locked from the inside with no way back to shelter. With your sickly strength, you bang and beat on the door, begging for someone to free you.

You can barely hear your own knocks suffocated beneath the overbearing bass. Having foolishly spent what was so little of your energy left on trying to be heard through the steel frame, you finally accept that no one is going to find you unless they come looking for you.

You slump back against the wall once more, the fever journeys to the pit of your stomach. You hunch over, your weight finding balance against the brick wall and some sort of electrical box as your whole body begins to tremble devoutly. You burn alive as the high-grade heat rises to your face and you expel your guts right there.

Having all frail muscles tense up in commitment to the deed, you plunge to your knees and land on all fours. As soon as you feel able, you rock back on your legs and wipe the residual sickness from your mouth. You optimistically anticipate the familiar wave of relief to wash over you but it never arrives.

This sickness was not brought on by alcohol, this is something else entirely.

You momentarily careen, scrambling to summon strength to find your way back on two feet again just as the alley door swings open and you hear Hunter gasp out your name.

He runs over to you, paying absolutely no mind to the door due to shut behind him.

“The door,” you wheeze out and weakly gesture towards the entryway just as the lock clicks securely.

“What- Oh, I’ve got a key, don’t worry,” he mumbles as he leans down to gain access to you, “What happened?”

Your touch shoots for Hunter’s shoulders to regain your structure and you prompt him to help you back inside. Your request generates something of an indecipherable grimace to dart across his features. You can see the cogs turning in his head and you find your hands instinctively retract back to your sides. You watch the prospect of salvation wither away before you.

He must recognize your sudden vigilance as he immediately agrees to comply, but only after he’s made sure you’re okay. Hunter bluntly forces his mulish hands to your waist and sharply hoists you up against the wall, triggering upsetting shards to pierce your aching muscles.

Once you become vertical, you expect him to retire as your personal forklift and give you breathing room but he instead confines himself within your orbit, hands still digging into your hips.

“Okay, I’m up now,” you try to shoo him, “Would you just open the door?”

“Not yet,” he protests impetuously.

No longer bothered to maintain the cordial facade, Hunter’s gaze is now fully enamored by your pallid body; panic’s tide rising higher and higher.

His hands, ice cold against your feverish skin, shocks a hiss from you as his fingers slither their way under the hem of your top. He shrilly hushes you and takes liberty to plod his trail upwards towards your ribs. Forcibly, Hunter dips his fingertips into every ridge in your cage, eliciting another pained sibilation from you.

You make an effort to jerk away from his molestive frisking but are far too wasted to make any sort of adequate escapade. You huff at your defeat as your exertion only results in you scantily swaying to the side. A defenseless speck absurdly fighting to escape the current it's been sentenced to.

You manage to limply place your hands against his chest in an attempt to disturb his afflictions.

“I’m just trying to help,” Hunter poorly disguises his unwelcomed touch as a well-intentioned examination of your health.

With your hands still planted against his sternum you thrust in order to pry him off, but you know the only force you create is a dull pressure, your fingertips barely even sinking into his flesh. He almost snickers at your second failed escape; fatigue only setting in deeper by the second.

“Get off me you, fucking creep,” you grunt, still sickly yet stubbornly squirming.

“Oh, really-,” he hisses, ”you were so into it earlier though. Why are you being such a fucking bitch now?”

Hunter intrusively shoves his gangly frame into yours, further crushing your achy flesh into the callous concrete rooted against your backside.

He brutally crowds your head with his, invading your earshot, “Keep squirming if you want to make this worse for yourself.”

You ignore his warnings and he closes in trying to force his mouth onto yours. His foul breath reeks of liquor, cigarettes, and an unidentifiable sulphuric odor that stirs your nausea. You snap your head to the side to gag.

“Be that way but your body won’t be able to fight off that drug much longer. I’m only taking what would have been mine had that wanker not ruined my night.”

And there it is, he confirms your suspicion of foul play and you immediately remember how he brought you a drink and seemed so pleased when you finished it. But this isn’t what angers you most from his admission, but the way he slanders Jake.

The very thought of Jake’s name in Hunter’s cruel disparaging mouth catapults you to new heights of contempt. He doesn’t even know Jake and doesn’t deserve to. How could he possibly categorize your Jake and a piece of shit like himself in the same league.

Although the last few affairs had been less than ideal, you had seen the most concentrated parts of Jake. To most he is some mysterious charismatic poetic rockstar invention of a man, but whether he meant to or not, Jake had let you behind the curtain to reveal the inventor.

You found behind the facade is a truly kind and attentive man. A man who loves to laugh and will do whatever he can to bring a smile to anyone else. A man who hides behind big words because he still gets nervous when he speaks. Someone who doesn’t like being angry and always tries to be the bigger person. Someone raised on chaos, morality, and the classics. And no matter what he endures, he’s a family man first. He likes to operate on a low profile but won’t hesitate to become loud and brash to make sure everyone around him is taken care of. A delicate wholesome rarity. To know Jake is to love him and you know anything he asks of you is already his.

Therefore, hearing Hunter traduce Jake’s name like some foul swear, only to implicate your night that would always belong to Jake was actually his set you ablaze.

You rear your head back towards Hunter’s face and spit on target, “Let go of me you sick fuck!”

He flinches as your saliva coats his face and his lip peels back in a snarl of disgust. You can’t help but feel some regain of control as one of his hands releases you to wipe his new glaze.

You unwisely decree this your opportunity to flee, gaining some advantage by shoving him away. Yet, Hunter only refills the space and barbarically thrusts you back into his pinhold. Your vulnerable skin catches the teeth of the exposed brick as it grates into your backside, eliciting a broken cry from you.

He irately swipes the back of his hand over the rest of his contaminated features and lifts it to the air in a fist. He tempestuously brings it down to make agonizing contact between your eye and cheekbone.

The sudden blow sends trauma throbbing throughout your head. The abrupt pain bleeding into the drug induced haze is paralyzing. You stand apathetic, striving to stay conscious at this point. Hunter matches his left forearm up to your shoulders to pin you against the wall and he moves his right to untie your blouse Jake had just gracefully done up minutes before. He yanks the material off your shoulders, the dark’s frigid wind and Hunter’s greedy gawk pricks your helpless frame against your concession.

Hunter reaches his hand to grope you freely now, lingering in annoyance where you're sure the love marks Jake had left behind are beginning to develop.

Even as hope for some sort of salvation begins to flicker out, you refuse to concede in your tussle to shimmy out of his hold.

He lets out an offended grunt, as if you are being a rude victim. He rolls his eyes and moves swiftly and precisely to jab you in the ribs, knocking all air out of your lungs and remaining will from your limbs; as well as pummel whatever fortitude your body was using to brave the drug’s gravity.

“I don't even know why you’re being so stubborn, you’re little wanker boyfriend isn’t around to see what a slut you are,” he growls through concentration and clenched teeth.

Out of all the elaborate ways he could have invented to torment you, this cuts you deepest. Simply because he is right.

Jake isn’t here. And it’s all your fault. If you hadn’t driven him away, you wouldn’t be here.

You’ve never possessed a moment more worthless than this moment. The thought of Jake seeing you like this is a weight you are sure you wouldn’t survive. You hope to never see him again. He would be absolutely heartbroken.

All the torment and tears you had stifled while fighting for your freedom suddenly bubbles and bursts to the surface. You are startled by the loud ugly sob that leaves you. A howl so eerie and animalistic, you hardly recognize it as your own. You immediately throw your head up in a sharp inhale to abolish any other cries that plan to escape on their own accord, as if this would preserve some portion of your pride.

Hunter forcibly snatches your jaw into his hand and steers your face towards his so that no matter how you maneuver you are forced to hold him. His pupils swivel back and forth across your face studying this new breed of terror your eyes produce.

He curtly arrives at a diagnosis, “Oh, I see, he broke you.”

The last fiber of your sanity slipped through your clenched fists: the notion no matter how fucked up he was, he couldn’t possibly read how shattered you are. The only thought keeping your head just above the violent current.

But he now stripped that from you too.

The concept that he might feel some perverted pity for you only diminishes your spirit further. But as quickly as it comes, he zones back into his mission.

Instead of returning his hand to your chest, Hunter travels to fumble with the zipper of your skirt. As he struggles to pull it open, clarity of what is about to take place cuts through the smog. You contemplate what is about to be stolen from you and just how powerless you are to stop it; how you will most likely struggle with the unrelenting haunt of this moment for the rest of your days.

Your pathetic shrieks voidly echoes throughout the lifeless alleyway, “Stop! No- Red- Get off- please!”

He grows impatient, demanding you shut up as a note of tattering intersects your imploration. He mercilessly pinches the hem of your skirt and tears the material apart, the two assaulted shreds hanging from your hips granting him full access.

Enslaved to complete stupor, he’s admitted to run his fingers over the waistband of your underwear.

You finally accept this as your fate. You accept that this will be the horror story you will have to recite everytime someone inevitably asks why you are so prodigiously fucked up. You accept this is the warning label you will have to tow around for the rest of your existence.

Your teary vision starts to tunnel and you finally feel your conscious giving way to the void. You just hope it consumes you before his deed.

Just then, you feel a gap finally open between you and your oppressor. You spill onto unkind asphalt once again, scrambling to register what has occurred but you're unable to refocus. The only sight you can identify is the hazy reflective neon glow against the wet blacktop.

You flail about on the ground to best cover your indecency. As you can’t see, you listen for any clue of the phenomenon proceeding just above your head, except your audio is now faltering too.

You hear the slurs of two tussling and shouting. In between the intervals of din, a familiar rasp of your name rips through the tumultuous turbulence to grace your ears. Then again. And again.

You snap your head upwards to decipher whether this is just another trick of the drug. You can only make out his silhouette as your line of sight slowly becomes clouded with black spots.

It is Jake. It has to be. You need it to be.

Yet, you do not trust your senses as they are obviously failing. You hold your hand out to ward off the figure now reaching for you and faintly crawl away. The being flinches at your motion and frets your name out like a mantra, begging for something you can’t seem to process.

However, the poison in your blood holds no regard for this development. You are suddenly enwrapped in the amplified feverish fire you felt earlier and almost immediately eject the rest of your stomach.

All tension finally leaves your muscles as your body becomes a burden too heavy to support upright. You recognize the sensation of falling backwards but everything becomes so still, so quiet, so black before you ever feel the ground cruelly collide with you.

It's the sensation of the cool crisp white bed linens caressing your dormancy heated skin that wakes you. You force your lead heavy eyelids open and peer around what you suspect is a hotel room.

The space is dark except for a halo of light around the blackout curtained window, so you know it is daytime wherever you are. You tense in a stretch, freeing your bones of the deep slumber you had just escaped. You feel as if you have been asleep for a thousand years and struggle to recall anything existing before the darkness.

The recollection of how you ended up bedridden rushes through your mind in a searing headache. You spring yourself upward to find that the nausea and vertigo has left you but the febrile aching and a throbbing head remains.

Your first instinct is to flee until all at once your senses flurry with him. Jake’s aroma fills the sheets and emits from your skin as well. You seek refuge in the sight of his well-loved shirt draped against your torso; along with a pair of boxers, and fuzzy socks. You assume he must have helped you shower at some point.

You reach over to tug the remaining blanket off your limbs, the simple shoulder motion detonates a chain reaction of sore strain all over your body. A pain induced squeal resonates through you and against the foreign vanilla walls of the vapid hotel room.

You freeze and bite your bottom lip in an effort to stifle any other oncoming cries. You survey the room as if your siren can disturb anything within the lifeless compartment.

Nothing.

You draw in a deep breath against your aching rib’s wishes and wincingley scoot to the edge of the mattress to discover the bathroom is a few yards away. You vacillatingly make it on your feet, your legs shake as you stand but you are devoted to wobbling over to the bathroom.

Pitifully exerted from your trek, you throw your balance towards the counter and assign your weight to the marble slab by bracing the edge with your hand; careful to contain your yelps this time. You stabilize yourself before feeling out the wall behind you for a light switch, deliberate in your objective to only move the parts of your body necessary for this daunting task.

Immediately, regret pierces your eyes in blinding light. You swear the sudden attack on your sight is so vile it causes a ringing in your ears. What you logically know is mere seconds, seems to last for hours until your eyes finally focus.

As you cower your head to shield yourself from the bright sting, grisly bruises on your palms and legs that weren't visible in the bedroom are now illuminated.

You laggardly drag yourself over to the full body mirror in hopes the gruesome hues are an optical illusion and your reflection would prove you unharmed. You reexamine the skin in question, only for the glass to cruelly confirm your injuries. Sleeves of sporadic purple, green, yellow, and blue are strewn against your every limb.

You want so badly to be outraged at the sight. To be irate at how you were wronged. Yet the only words your mind will carve out for you are how could you be so foolish and so weak as to let this happen? It only further mocks your grief that you can’t seem to purchase any strand of anger.

But you don't let yourself succumb to the bleakness; your intuition anticipating the worst is yet to come.

You hesitantly raise your shirt to heed the discoloration traveling up your ribs. The sight abruptly brings back the petrifying sensation of Hunter excruciatingly shoving his prickly fingers into the crevices of your torso.

The intrusive recollection makes your stomach swell into your throat. For a brief instant, you think you might have to somehow shuffle to the toilet to be sick but you swallow it down.

You continue to raise your top past your breasts just enough to uncurtain your shoulders. The skin there is littered with dark fingerprint devised bruises.

It isn’t your victimhood now recorded all over your body that corrodes and eats away your insides, but is your inability to differentiate the assault from Jake's love marks. A palette of colors Jake left as a reminder in that moment you had given yourself to him completely; that he’d seen all of you, every last inch, and still he wanted more. He needed to consume you more than physically possible. A token he wants you to think of him just as much as he is thinking of you. A note that no matter how many times he unconvincingly tries to deny that he cares, he blatantly thinks of you as his. An objet d’art now defaced by the stains of a sick thief.

It is getting harder to see your reflection as grief starts to pool in your eyes and any desire you’d once had to examine your abrasions flees. You decide to barrel through the rest of your appraisal as you know your dark inquisitiveness will not let you rest till you have dug up the entirety of this aftermath’s hidden bones.

You try to lift the loose shirt completely from your body but are seized by an inadmissible fire catching throughout the flesh of your backside. Certain strips of your skin feel as if they’d split if you move too fast. Stubbornly, you trudge through the flames, determined to remove the piece of clothing. The sound of air shooting through your clenched teeth joins in with the rustling of the cotton material.

You finally rid yourself of the restriction and twist to see your back in the mirror, your expedition arriving at the concentration of the calamity; your skin tone a minority against the tyrenous bruising.

A shudder delivers the image of savagely being thrashed into that brick wall, rattling around your head like a pinball stuck on its course. A small sob drills its way into the room despite the defense of your palm sealing over your lips.

White rectangular bandages are taped exactly over where you had felt the splintering pressure threatening to tear your skin. You remove your hand from your mouth, no longer bothering to contain your shrills, and contort to the most accessible bandage starting at the bottom of your ribcage and extending to your pelvic bone. Your lethargic inertia only enables you to peel the material off slowly, the adhesive taking its time to part with your raw skin.

Fixating your gaze to your handiwork, you tug the gauze about halfway off to notice it is not white like the outside. The threads are dyed with streaks of dark red, brown, and discharge. Your eyes quickly flit up in the mirror to see a deep vile gash that hasn’t even yet begun to scab.

Your glistening brown eyes now overflow into warm streams down your cheeks. The left side of your face is pierced by a stinging sensation at the introduction of the salty tears.

You realize you have been avoiding your reflection above your shoulders and for the first time since the bar bathroom you allow yourself to study your own face. To your dismay, you discover your left eye and cheekbone are grotesquely swollen and bruised.

Ugly.

There is no other way to put it. No other word your brain would provide. No further way to break it down. You had never felt so broken and unlovable in your life.

You had never felt so fucking ugly.

You futilely attempt to wipe your tears away as they are already being replenished. As you vainly swat at your face your attention is drawn near the nape of your neck; alluring as it is the only pristine scene amongst your features. Your hair has been neatly brushed and delicately laid back into a single looped messy bun; just the way Jake always does his own.

A cruel notion ripples its way throughout your mind. Jake witnessed you beaten in that alley. He graciously undressed and bathed you and aided your wounds. He got to shelter you in his clothes and fix your hair and put you to bed.

And part of you hated him for it. You hate that he got to see you in such a vulnerable odious state. You hate that you let him.

How could he proclaim you are no good for each other only to turn around and take such inordinate care of you? You loathe his words of disownment that crash against such ardent acts of affection for you. This deep level of intimacy is the first for the two of you and most likely the last. Yet, you aren’t even sure if you were conscious, you certainly weren’t in your right mind. You don’t even get to archive the moment. He had no right.

You yank the band from your dotingly tied up hair, tangling it once again and thoroughly erase any evidence it had recently been combed. You thrust the band with as much might as your body will allow, intent for it to land in some bathroom abyss, never to be seen again.

Your glossy eyes dart to the population of hygienic products to pinpoint the first-aid supplies within the cluster. You swing your arm towards the kit, sending the medical equipment soaring off the counter. The clattering din of the tools crashing to the floor reverberates throughout the small room and rings in your ears.

You don’t even realize you are yelling until your voice cracks against you gasping for an air supply. You can’t bear the concept of facing your execrable appearance any longer and find your hands and knees bracing the piercing chill bathroom tile.

You give in to the malaise. You are swallowed whole by your own laments, the suite humming with the songs of your weeping howls. You have no will to ever cease your decimation. No desire to ever lift yourself from this very bathroom tile. You are going to decompose here.

But as quickly as you give in to your grief you are snatched from it. More than startling you, two hands from behind graze around your shoulders. You hadn’t heard any doors open or close, much less were you aware of any life stirring in the room.

Before any discernment or recognition can approach, you careen forward, leading with your pounding chest to cower near the floor.

You blare your terror in a panicked squeal, “No! Get off of me!”

“Whoa-,” the voice announces itself and you immediately recognize the lull as Jake, “hey- babygirl, you’re alright. It's me.”

He circles in front of you with his hands up indicating your safety and crouches down so he is eye level with you. Your favorite eyes, the prettiest pools of amber and fresh autumn now plagued by uneasiness. You immediately dive your beaten face into your hands not wanting to be held by those tormented brown eyes.

“You’re alright, you’re safe,” he passifies.

Jake places his hands to cup yours and slowly peels away the mask they were providing. You fling his hands away with your own and find you gain some unexpected relief from the slight blow.

Instinctually, you start to throw your hands towards him to achieve whatever contact you can, shoving at his shoulders and beating your fists against his soft chest. Jake doesn’t fight back or stop you or even protest. He only scrunches his eyes shut and lets out a shaky exhale; as if you are some toddler and he is simply tolerating your tantrum. He cups your jaw, freezing your thrashing movements.

He searches your eyes through his glassy ones and begins to fuss, “I know, babygirl, I’m so sorry.”

His sentiment does little to console you though. You shove him from your vicinity harsher this time, releasing you of his touch and knocking off his balance. He gently lands back against the nearby bathtub wall but he is still in reach. He frowns as you gain momentum again, thirsty for a mere drop of the initial remedy your first feeble impact released. Anything to rid you of this eroding ache in your chest.

His eyebrows turn upwards in clemency, which only makes you drive through your swings harder. However, it doesn’t seem to make any difference as he catches one of your wrists in his stark hands mid-swing, and then the other.

In one skillful motion, he jerks you forward into an upward kneeling position by both arms. Jake slings your limbs around his shoulders, causing you to lurch into him. Before you have any chance to protest, he nimbly takes hold of your hips and delivers the rest of your body into his lap.

Every nerve under your skin is on fire with the impulse to retreat, “No, Jake! I’m not worth it!”

Your own words draw light to why you are so hellbent on repelling from Jake’s touch. It hadn’t been that he said you are no good for each other but that some part of you had always felt he is too good for you. That's why when things got tough you would argue and run to someone else. You were constantly trying to flag his attention that never veered from you. He had fooled you with his placid exterior but little did you know you only had to ask and he would grant you the world.

You are not good enough for him, yet he still spoils you and when it came down to it he was your salvation; harbored you away from the monster that had its claws around you.

But you’re more trouble than you are worth. You are tainted now, only baggage he would grow to resent. Jake did not deserve to be dragged down by you. You won’t allow it. You certainly wouldn’t survive it.

You try to evacuate his embrace but he only squeezes you tighter, “I’m sorry, I never should have left you!”

You squirm further, lifting yourself to your knees in preparation to somehow walk away. But Jake is not having it. He clings to your waist and stabilizes you by placing his knees to the back of your thighs.

You frantically beseech him, “Jake, please, there’s no room for junk in your world, trust me.”

He shakes his head and nuzzles his face between your jaw and collarbone. He sighs against your neck and speaks a muffled decree against your skin, “Don’t speak about yourself that way. You’re more than worth it.”

Your need for space is overwhelming, but your urgency to be held together overpowers anything else in existence. Exhausted from fighting, you let your weary body go limp and melt back into his gravity.

He loosens his arms a bit that are sealed around you, no longer afraid you’re going to make a run for it. Your head heavy, you rest your forehead against his clavicle and your hands center against his supple chest, trapping your arms between bodies as you bend your legs to the side and lean into him.

Your grief returns to you as soon as you stop moving and you concede to its demands. You find that these clamors, though, are different. They’re muffled as they’re collected by someone else. Not echoing void into space, an expression lost and forgotten with no purpose once they’ve passed from you. Now there is someone to record your sorrow, you are no longer just an inconsolable calamitous clutter on the bathroom floor. You let yourself fall apart in the arms of someone you trust can put you back together again.

“Jake, he almost- I-,” you struggle through your hiccuping breaths.

“I know,” he doesn’t pressure you to finish your thought.

Your voice becomes concerningly soft, “You saw?”

“I did,” he gulps.

“I wish you hadn’t,” your shame doesn’t let you speak above a whisper.

“Don’t say that. What if I hadn't been there in time? What if I hadn’t- you could have-,” you can hear his voice begin to crack and splinter, rendering him unable to finish the unbearable horror.

For the first time it occurs to you that you are not the only victim. You imagine Jake must have lost his mind at the sight of you. You most definitely would have been petrified if the roles were reversed. And though he doesn’t owe you a thing he took you upon himself as his own responsibility. He acted while his mind must have been racing up and down, pondering the right thing to do. Whether you would wake up okay or not. Whether you’d wake up and blame him. Would you forgive him for leaving?

But you would never blame Jake for this. Even if you had, you’d never been capable of sentencing Jake to your storm for long. You’d forgiven him so many times before for a hundred things and you would continue to do so for the next ten-thousand offenses. And you prayed he’d never wake one day with enough sense to forget about you because you know now that you need him in this new season.

“Jake, hold me tighter,” you heedlessly pule, acutely aware of how needy and demented you sound, consumed by the exigency to be closer to him than ever, “tighter, please?”

“I want to, baby, more than you know, but I don’t want to hurt you,” he fretts.

You could hear the compulsion to accommodate you in his trembling tone and the sudden tense of his arms that carefully circled around you.

“How could I be so invisible? I feel like some foul disposable thing,” your own words ambush you, a blubbering tumble into the air on their own perturbing accord; subconscious thoughts you had not dared let slither into the forefront of your reality. Mere shadows come from the corners of your mind that have expedited any real contemplation.

“And I know I'm not supposed to but I feel like this is all my fault,” you sob out the confession.

Your sadistic ears register the fractious cries inhabiting the small room now as the same ones that haunted you in the alley. Sounds you hadn’t known you were capable of prior to your casualty. You have no idea whether the grotesque marks along your body would stay with you in a scar but you know that this despairing tune was one of an everlasting requiem and these tears would never dry.

Jake pulls away from you to tug his sleeves over his fists. He examines your face and shakes his head before swiping his cuffs to carefully towel the tears away from your afflicted skin. He kisses both of your eyelids shut and draws back into you, cradling the nape of your neck to bury you further into his shelter.

“Nothing you did, my love,” he begins to vow, “was even remotely deserving of what happened. Don’t you ever let anyone ever make you feel less than beautiful, not even me. You are perfect, I swear it.”

Your consoler rakes his fingertips along your backside, between your shoulder blades, down to your tailbone and back again. However the migration of his hand doesn’t follow your spine. The irregular pattern of his touch graces around your wounds without him having his eyes navigate. How long he must have studied your comatose skin to plot a mental map and detour your injuries. The cozy concept grounds you, enabling you to finally catch your breath.

The air eventually stills. The only stirring sounds of your sniffles and shared quaking breaths.

You hoarsely whisper, “Jake, where am I?”

“My hotel room, babygirl,” fragments of his side of the nightmare begin to spill out, “and I know I should’ve taken you to a hospital or something but- I’m sorry- I didn’t- I was terrified they might make me leave or not let me see you or something and I couldn't- I just- no- and we had to move on to the next city- I was not leaving you again- or ever.”

Now he holds you tighter as if he can no longer deny the urge; afraid you could still be confiscated from him, a kid clinging to his favorite blanket.

“I had one of the medics I trust come check you out,” he rambles on.

You choked a bit at the thought of another man having access to your unconscious body, “He-”

“No, no. She said you were going to be fine and your body was working through whatever it was you ingested. She only handed me pain meds and some heavy duty first aid for liability. I tried to dress your wounds as best I know how. I’m sorry if i-”

You slip your arms around his neck, cradling his nape to bring him closer into your orbit, “Stop apologizing. Thank you, Jake.”

“Don’t thank me, you could have told me you hated me a million different ways in that bathroom and I still would have done the same thing,” he precisely threads his words, conviction weighing down every syllable, “I take care of what's mine.”

The room grows quiet once more as you bask in contemplation of his last words. Jake starts to rub your back again and you find yourself tempted by a drowsy spell once more.

“Jake?”

His hand springs from your back, “God- Am I hurting you? I’m sor-,”

“No, just thank you for taking care of me,” you drowsily sigh against his skin as slumber cocoons you in its grasp.

You flicker in and out of consciousness until you wake to Jake carrying you back to bed. He sits you down on the edge and pulls a bottle of pills from his pocket.

“For the pain,” he gives the bottle a good shake and pulls a water canister from the amenities on the dresser, handing it to you.

After you’ve taken the medication he encourages you to drink the rest of the water. Once you appease him, Jake helps you recline, careful not to lay you on your back. In his assistance, you grab his hands, the bruised and split sight commandeering your regard.

“Your hand- It's bruised,” you gasp.

He lets out the smallest chuckle, “Yea, I broke his nose.”

“Jake, that's not funny,” you lethargically scold.

“I know-”

“But thank you,” you make sure he understands your gratitude before he can beat himself up.

Still holding onto his hand, you pull Jake to lay down next to you and curl around him. He reciprocates by tucking your head under his chin. The grounding warmth of him travels across your skin and brings you to safety.

He tilts his head towards your ear and bashfully asks, “No more games?”

“No more games,” you concur.

He draws in a breath deep of solemnity and panic as he runs a finger down your temple and tucks your hair behind your ear. You prepare yourself for his bad news before he can even speak the opposite.

“I think I love you but I can't keep chasing you from halfway around the world,” his confession so subtle you almost miss his first five words.

“Well, lucky for you I don’t think I can go back to London and I have nowhere else to go,” your antic tone does less than mesh with your words.

Jake mimics your earlier sentiment back to you, “That’s not funny, baby.”

“I know- I just- I don’t want to go to London,” you drop your facade.

“You know I have a few guest rooms at my house,” he begins fidgeting, twirling your hair around his fingers, “but they never see any guests. And I know my house gets so lonely when I’m gone.”

“You mean- your house-,” you gulp, “in Nashville?”

You can hear the smirk in his voice now, “Yes, gorgeous scenery and a lovely people. It also happens to be very far from London. You’d be doing me a real favor if you came and looked after it.”

You ponder his proposal as if you have a choice. As if you hadn’t slowly been moving towards this leap since the dawn of Jake and you. As if you could ever grant your caretaker any answer that isn’t yes.

And of course any life with Jake would be better than a life without but still you never thought the question would come, certainly not before others. You are clueless as to what role you are to play and what life is supposed to look like after this, outside of London. How would you even fit into his tumultuous musician’s life?

He breaks your thought flow. You can tell Jake is trying not to pressure you but your silence terrifies him, “What’s swirling around in that pretty head of yours?”

You tilt your face up towards his and speak against the corner of his mouth right where his lips begin to curl when he gets giggly.

The course hair there prickly against your whispered affirmation, “I love you too, Jacob.”

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[popculturebuffet]

Sam and Max Beyond Time and Space Retrospective: Moai Better Blues (Patreon Review for WeirdKev27)

Hello all you happy freelance police and welcome back to my look at the sam and max telltale games! We're onto season 2 episode 2. After a little christmas in august we're having a science fiction double feature for halloween as this review ended up behind due to a new member of the family.

This is Maddie. She's 5, she's precious, she's very loud , and she's very attached to me.

But even new fluffy good girls with spangly collars can't stop the march of sam and max.

Following up from our heroes adventures in the north pole, this ep finds our heroes dealing with an adventure that's weird even by sam and max standards. And I want to let that sink in because we spent last season stopping a child star hynosis crime ring, starring in a one episode sitcom with a british chicken don knotts, inflitrating a mafia chuck e cheese, running for president against a horny lincoln memorial, murdering the internet and finally facing down with a sentient plankton colony via psychic powers and magic tricks on the moon. And that's not even getting into that guy who would never put his hands down. What was his deal?

So what lies in the greatest mountain of sam and max madness? Stoned Moai, triangular portals, sea monkeys, ghost godlfish, baby jimmy hoffa and horny statue love triangles. So join me under the cut for the madness.

We open with our heroes returning from the North Pole a month after the previous game, with it now snowing, providing a nice atmosphere to things. Before they can get back to the usual banter some fresh nonsense comes in: A triangle chasing their beloved friend Sybil.

It has a neat design too, red, pulsating with lines... it's an excellent triangle all things considered. B+

At any rate we need to stop it, so we go to the wisest sage for weird shit there is: Bosco. It's a nice way to keep him still useful while not having him be one of your item guys. Bosco is getting ready to bunker down from T.H.E.M.

But tells our hero their new foe is a bermuda triangle, an eldtirch shape that sucks people up to another place, and can only be stopped with most of the shapes. Most.. never come into play and are just for a good joke, like blue polyheadrons making them really want to roll them dice and maybe start a live play with a dungeon master with long hair and the voice of god.

The important one is red hexagons stop them.. and the game was REALLY unhelpful with this one. I did have my hints flavor blasted up to the maximum max could do without bursting a kidney.. but he just kept saying the shape and outright told me to go back to the office.. where it entirely wasn't. WE do have a new trophy though, boxing betty. So.. that's nice?

The solution lies in Stinky's diner, where i'd gone earlier since the Cops can't do buisness over the sound of screaming. Amateurs. Stinky can though even with the racket outisde and gives us a granite sandwitch that i'm pretty sure just.. sat in my inventory all chapter. Seriously you don't relaly use it for anything even when you think it'd be obvious like replacing a stone max's ear, and it's more just to set up getting a basalt sandwich from her later. It's on the kid's menu only though.

She is useful in that she has a stop sign for you and with some spray paint from your headquaters, you can make it deep red. Before we go though another beloved supporting character makes a cameo: Flint Paper. I just love how despite being grizzly and willing to beat up random strangers for money, as are we, Flint just.. cheerfully greets our heroes with a hey fellas every time. He's just so happy to see our heroes and they have a deep genuine admiration for him. Like with Sybil in the first episodes, it's nice to see someone our heroes actually like and unlike Sybil, it's nice to see there's at least one person they haven't traumtized. Yet. He's watching Bosco for Bosco's Mom who'se understandably worried about her son because you know, his whole deal.

For now though we go to stop the triangle in the name of love... only for hilariously this all to be mostly pointless as once Sybil stops, Abe shows up , gets sucked in and she goes after him. It's off to Easter Island!

Turns out Sybil and Lincoln are fine and are just enjoying the nice weather. Once again.. this is a dead end puzzle wise as the two are just there to move their subplot along. Unlike the sandwich though, it's at least entertaning.. and mildly creepy as Abe perves on one of the moai present.

Why the bermuda triangle lead to easter island.. is not something we'll be getting into here. What matters is the moai see sam and max as their savior. Well the middle one, a kindly lady moai abe's creeping ion, is. The left one has half his face buried and is contstantly upset, projecting storm clouds when pissed off that are naturally useful, and the right one is

And is largely useless, mostly just sniping at you.

Each has a power of the elements: Rain for the buried one, wind for the nice one and earth for the pedantic douchebag. The fire one was sadly was scattered to the winds long ago, but he did leave behind a son at least to carry on his legacy

At any rate before we can use the powers of nature itself for fun and profit, we have some problems: As it turns out the nearbye volcano is about to erupt and murder them all due to some understandable but tragic errors

Problem is someone's guarding his lair... and if you haven't played the game yourself, I warn you: You are not remotely ready. I sure wasn't. So whose in our heroes way? Why it's Jimmy HOffa in the body of a baby!

Yeah... look I love Sam and Max for being so gloriously weird. Weird as hell is one of my faviorite kinds of humor as long as their's direction behind the chaos. But It's still easily the biggest what the fuck moment the franchise has thrown me so far and that's with this happening last chapter

Granted I got spoiled there is some sort of payoff to the Mariachis via a thumbnail, and there is some actual logic behind this.. but even for this franchise "Jimmy Hoffa whose in the body of an infant because he drank too much from the fountain of youth pointing a gun at yoU" is a bit much. And more to the point they NEVER explain why he's working for the episodes big bad.

I.. can't help but love it though BECAUSE it's such a uniquely stupid swing: they had this idea, found a way to have it logically make sense and then put it in the game in full, all while giving us a ton of great jokes as Sam cannot ressit teasing him on the fact he's a baby.

We'll deal with this teamster later, for now we meet the other rugrats on this island: Amelia Earheart, DB Cooper, and The LIndburgh Baby... .

Their mostly here to set up a surfboarding mini game which frustrated me. It's not the game itself, it's a fun enough little distraction if fairly hard to get the analogue controls down on my switch version. It felt like the kind of browser game i'd play as a kid.

My annoyance.. is that the game dosne't tell you that you get nothing for it until you've triggered the right story event. So I went through the whole thing for nothing. Thankfully I also enabled mini game skipping.... I still will TRY not to use it often as these are part of the game and thus need to be evaluated as much as the point and click parts, but in this case i'd already done the actual task so when it asked me to again. As for why again, the trick to getting rid of our little friend involves serving him a drink, using a tiki glass you can pick up at the bar those dumb babies are at. But he'll only take union waitstaff, so you have to play the game to get cerfitied by him. IT makes about as much sense as it sounds. Ah back to normal for this franchise.

To actually do anything though we need some fountain of youth water unfortunately there's something in it

So to take care of them we have to complete a few other tasks

First is the COPS. As i'm guessing is standard for every chapter,we have another driving VR Game from them, this time a fun rythum based one with the beats going as you drive on them. THey thought it'd change the world.. those poor dumb bastards. It's clearly a jab at guitar hero, but it's a decent challenge while still being a lot of fun.

With that we get a car horn and that's the key to our next puzzle: We need to help Glenn Miller, a wwII era band leader whose also now a baby, stage his comback by giving him that new sound he's been looking for. Since the horn plays i've been workin on the railroad, it's just the ticket. He just needs a whistle sound, which you easily get by dumping some gasoline disguised as a drink into a nearbye fire, setting off a tea kettle. He gives you a conch with the single recorded on it. Apparently The Bermuda Triangles also visited skypeia.

Using the dial, we can finally solve our pirahana puzzle.. in theory. In practice it's utterly frustrating if you can't figure out the trick, not helped by Max CONSITENTLY telling me to use the thunder storm moai.

Breaking it down: using the glen miller dial conch, you play it for the nice moai, which gets her whistling. Now when you tick off her half buried friend next to you, which naturally max does with ease and maybe too much glee.. in fact i'm starting a " Going to Hell For This" counter, for each time we ruin someone's life, torture them or what have you to progress, or just for funzies, as we did it a LOT last season and so far have done it a lot. Now I"ll make acceptions for say outright villians or people who deserve it. And even then it'/s about proportions. For example, pelting the soda poppers with urine and bleach? Acceptable, their the soda poppers. Need I say more. But even if Jimmy Two Teeth sucks a LOTTT, nearly driving him to unalive himself is a bit much, not helped by Max's reaction essentially being

He certainly thought it hard enough. So we'll count that one, still keeping leonard hostage after almost a year, sending santa to hell (even if he was possesed), and not bothering to actually help save christmas. So going into this episode we have

Things We're Going To To Hell For: 4 And we can add from this episode taunting that poor moai.

Things We're Going to Hell Fort: 5

So I assumed both from the hint ONLY mentoing the moai , who creates a little storm cloud when uspet and the wind we were supposed to blow it at jimmy hoffa. Instead... it does nothing. It just dissipates if blown too far and never gets near him. Instead we use the portals, which are frustrating as the game makes it clear the two near the entrance are connected.. but dosen't make it clear EVERY portal is connected this way.

The solution is to open one by the fountain of youth, then open another next to the underground moai, have the good moai blow the cloud and boom, a LOT of dead pirhanas and a free fountain of youth. Also

Things We're Going To Hell For: 6

And with that we can use the glass to scoop some up, give it to hoffa... and blink him out of existance. THings We're Going To Hell For: Still 6 (He Deserved It Yo) It's REALLY sad when killing someone by making them age themselves out of existance isn't the worst thing we've done today. Or even this month.

This event also moves along Sybil's subplot for the season and who boy. Strap yourselves in because I haven't seen a character nosedive this fast in many moons. So the whole episode, Abe and Sybil have been picnicking, only doing that on Abe's suggestion.. and only so he can oggle the middle good moai. Yeah after several episodes of at worst being out of touch and mildly annoying.. abe's somehow lept straight to the bottom and is perving on someone right in front of his girlfriend and THEN asks her to have plastic surgery to look more like the moai.

Sybil runs off in tears.. and SOMEHOW, SOMEHOW, this gets worse... as Abe THEN tries to hit on the moai. To her credit she shoots him down fast and we get a great response out of him, a casual "that's fair". So he's still funny he's just WAY more of an asshat. I mean granted we just committed two murders in a row, so i'd SAY we can't judge.. but those murders were to save a LOT of lives from death and were of a bunch of fish and a murderous infant man.

Anyways with this we enter our final puzzle set, continuing from the formula laid out last time. Sadly.. they also fall into a fairly trite, terrible stereotype. It's forgivable enough for the time.. but it's still pretty tone deaf. I can't blame them for fixing it as unlike the various lines corrected for save the world, this is a large part of the plot and thus really coudn't be futzed with.. but it's still not great.

Okay so for our final stretch our heroes run into your standard tone deaf "the natives are stupid and belivie anything is their god" plot only this time it's sea monkeys.

Yeah.. they.. really coudl've thought this one out a bit more. We have to convince them max is their god/chosen one/whatever instead, in order to replace an old advesary: Mr. Spatula, sam and max's goldfish whose mad he's died and thus is willing to take an island with him. Now you may recall, even if I didn't name him last time, he died. And he did. THIS IS HIS GHOST.

So to prove ourselves we have to do three tasks. The first is easy and I stumbled into accidently: We have to make the water into BANANG!, an energy drink powder bosco happens to have a lot of.

To get it away from him, we have to torment him.. again. This time we simply radio in, claim to be THEM

And Bosco goes deeper underground, there's too much panic in this town. So we got the powder.. but we also traumtized a friend for life so

Things We're Going To Hell For: 7

Next is adding an ear to a rock formation that looks like max. Once again the sandwitch is useless.. except as a clue. We finally need that basalt sandwitch for kidz, so it's time to use the fountain of youth water on ourselves.. and ONCE AGAIN the game gets frustrating as you transform back very fast from drinking it. The trick is to use a gong I honestly forgot about in Stinky's diner max reminded me of. I can't tell if I just suck at adventure games or this is poor level design.

Anyways we get the Basalt and get a really funnys equence with douchecanoe moai as it turns out dude just needed to blaze it and basalt gets moai REALLY good and fucked up. With that he casually laughs and dislodges a stalctite we use to finish the max.

We then finish this section. The stone feet of the buried moai are needed to anoit us. Also yes they have hands and arms stuck in there. We simply use the shell again, this time on a portal next to the best moai , she whistles, he taps his toes and we win. Kinda.

Problem is the island's still errupting with Mr Spatula planning to take us with it. The only way to stop it? Some clever puzzlery. We get a high preist medallion from the Sea Monkeys, dip it in some red slime, then shoot the triangle, using the portals to send the red triangle through it , eating the lava.. and presumibly murdering someone but we won't worry about that. Our ride home is gone though but Abe offers a lift while the moai celebrate.. before being sad they can't move. Then their abducted by what seems to be aliens!

Moai Better Blues... is a very mixed bag. The writing as usual is hilarious, and while it's a very

Sort of chapter, it's a FUNNY sort of what the fuck is this, from the various babies, to the black comedy shenanigans as usual, to our heroes riding out on Lincoln's head. It continues episode 1's mean streak, but the weirder setting and more over the top weird black comedy bits like unexistinsing hoffa help it feel far less opressive than last time. The deaths and what we do to bosco are way more over the top. Even abe and sybil's breakup, acompained by the mysterious maraichi's, is more funny than genuinely sad. I DO feel bad for Sybil, but abe is such a dick and he gets karmically punished for it as the moai lady SHARPLY rejects him, multiple times if you want, and he looses Sybil.

Gameplay wise.. it's a lot more obtuse. A lot more relying either on memory (Which isn't good for me but is at least fair) or hoping you figure it out and with most of the max clues being way less helpful. It's a pretty meh chapter all things considered and hopefully as we get spooky next time, we also get back to our quality. Speaking of which

Next Time: VAMPIRES! Just in time for the season. And since it's the 2000's their angsty emo eurotrash vampires! Oh BoY! Thanks for reading!

[eyes-onthehorizon]

The Old Guard Provide... Leverage

(otherwise titled Pan Finally Found The Time To Rework ‘February is a Month like Any Other’)

One:

heist [haɪst]

Word forms: plural heists

countable noun [oft noun NOUN]

A heist is a robbery, especially one in which money, jewellery, or art is stolen.

(“Is it really a heist if we’re actually avenging a crime?”

“Psht, technicalities. Heists are about derring-do, and there’s plenty of it to be done.”)

Nicoló was going out of his mind. Not so much as a whiff of a clue had presented itself and the excuses for burrowing around Whitechapel Manor were fraying at the edges. His carriage, which had so artfully broken down in the snow, had finally been repaired and Nicoló had no choice but to depart the following morning.

Andy was desperate to get into the study at any cost; in a last-ditch attempt, he’d decided to write a few letters for his beloved who was waiting to commence their belated honeymoon. All my papers had been ruined in the snow, you see, he’d shrugged self-effacingly at the butler. Might I trouble the study for a few pages?

The same butler stood sentry at the doorway. He wasn’t a distrustful man, quite the opposite: Jennings had been the one to oversee his recovery after he’d taken that nasty fall off Sir Graham’s stallion. He’d become something of a mother hen to Nicoló, and constantly hovered nearby in case a bookshelf or candlestick might decide to commit murder.

It would have been sweet, really, if Nicoló hadn’t been in the midst of intelligence-gathering against one of Britain’s most powerful men. In his own home.

Without looking up from the desk, he spoke: “Jennings, would you be so kind as to fetch me some tea and scones? This is thirsty work.”

He saw Jennings hesitate from the corner of his eye, and kept his expression still. “There is nothing to worry about, old chap. The worst that can happen in here is a paper-cut and I think even I might survive such a calamity.”

“Ha, right you are, Sir. I’ll be back in a moment.” Thank goodness he had a sense of humour.

Nicoló moved as quickly as he could, rifling through drawers and boxes, returning them to their original state with a dexterity Andy had always admired.

(“It’s freaky. You’re a freak.”

“Andy, we don’t die. We are all freaks here.”)

It wasn’t until he could hear Jennings’ footsteps returning down the hallway that he found the hidden compartment in the desk. He made a show of walking around the room, deep in thought, turning only when he was spoken to.

“Your food, Sir.” Jennings said a little breathlessly. Had he rushed? The man was definitely pinker than when he'd left. Nicoló felt a pre-emptive flash of shame at what he was about to do.

“Ah, splendid. Thank you. Do you have any more of the marmalade from breakfast? And is there any chance Cook could rustle up a sandwich with those little tomatoes? I’m positively famished.” Nicoló knew the marmalade had run out because he’d heard the cook grumbling about it when he went down for hot milk the previous evening. It seems he’d eaten through quite the supply during his stay. And cherry tomatoes, at this time of year? It was more unlikely than one would think.

Jennings’ smile had reduced to something resembling a straight line – never a scowl, the man was much too professional for that – the longer Nicoló’s requests went on. Nevertheless, he was bound to do his duty. He bowed, a little, and departed once again.

Nicoló let out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. This was the worst part of masquerading as a toff: the way he was expected to treat the servants.

He took another turn around the enormous desk to inspect the hidden compartment. It had been jammed hastily shut, with the key hanging conspicuously from a hook on the wall. Nicoló turned it, but the damn thing was stuck.

I’m so close.

He wiggled the drawer.

Jennings is coming.

He tried pushing from below.

What is he hiding?

He took out his pen-knife.

I’m going to get caught.

Tried to leverage it open.

Calm. Stay calm. Stay fucking calm-

He smacked at it in frustration, and this of all things was what finally did the trick. He emptied it, papers and all, into the wastebasket alongside all his crumpled up draft letters. Not wasting a second, he slid the drawer shut, turned the key and returned it to the hook as he kicked the basket over.

Jennings entered the room, bearing a full tray of food and a second pot of tea. The guilt washed over Nicoló again as they both realised he hadn’t touched the first pot that Jennings had gone running for, but the butler’s glance at the messy floor brought him back into the moment.

“Oh my. I’m so clumsy. I do apologise Jennings – would you mind setting up my tea in the blue sitting room?”

“Of course, Sir. I’ll tidy the mess after you’ve tucked in-”

“No need, my fine fellow. Truth be told, I’d rather these letters remain for my beloved’s eyes only. Wink, wink, nudge, nudge and all that, you know? I’ll get this tidied up in a jiffy.”

Torn between the need to do as he was told and allowing a gentleman to do a servant’s work, Jennings hesitated a moment before deciding to just take the easy way out, for once. Nicoló sent up a prayer of gratitude and began piling everything back into the wastebasket.

 ao3

[umichenginabroad]

Week 2: The trek to NZ

Hi everyone. Very excited to show you what I have in store from this past week.

I spent Tuesday and Wednesday doing some more exploring, making some new friends, and relaxing. I found a new favorite cafe nearby, an essential to my morning routine to begin my day and get some work done. On Tuesday night, I went to a bar located right next to the Sydney Opera house on the harbor with some mates.

During the day on Wednesday, I journeyed to the coast with my book, determined to find the best possible reading spot (maybe in the world). Here's what I settled with:

Not too shabby! However, on Thursday morning, dreams began to turn into reality. Three friends and I had been planning a trip to New Zealand during January for quite a while now (to take advantage of the nice weather and single online class we all are taking). At 3:30am on Thursday, these dreams finally began to come to fruition, and we set off to the airport for our 6:00am flight to the city of Christchurch in the South Island of New Zealand.

Upon landing, the combination of the early wakeup and melancholy weather left us pretty exhausted as we began the trip from Christchurch to our first stop, Lake Tekapo. However, once we were about 15 minutes from our hostel, one of the most memorable moments of the trip thus far occurred: The clouds began to part and the sun peeked through in an almost heavenly fashion, foreshadowing the beginning of a great trip to come. We finally arrived at around 8:00pm, and the sun was still shining as if it was four in the afternoon back in Michigan! The tiny town of Lake Tekapo has a population of under 600 people and is the only town situated on the lake, leaving the rest to natural beauty.

On Friday, we eagerly hopped out of bed, made some breakfast, and set out to conquer our first hike: Mount John. At the top, we were provided with some of the most stunning views I have ever seen of Lake Tekapo and the surrounding mountains.

After completing the hike and making some sandwiches for lunch, we spent the afternoon kayaking. Never before have I seen such glistening, turquoise water!

After this, I took my first online quiz (no I didn't forget about school). Got a 90%! (read that again mom).

We finished the day off with a bonfire, smores, and stargazing at the lake. Great vibes all around!

Saturday began with an early wakeup and a quick drive over to Mount Cook National Park along the stunning Lake Pukaki. Mount Cook's contrasting colors, snow-capped glaciers, and overall interesting topography made for some awesome hikes and pictures.

We then continued our journey in the afternoon to our next stop: Wanaka. Wanaka is a much larger, populated town with some fun stores and restaurants located on Lake Wanaka. We spent the evening just chilling out, making dinner, and soaking in the new scenery. We were also preparing for the earliest wake-up of the trip, as we planned to hike the infamous Roy's Peak for the sunrise the following morning. At 3:00am on Sunday, we strapped on our headlamps and embarked on what would be a quite grueling journey to the top. To put it in perspective, the All Trails app claims that roundtrip, the hike should take the average person 6 hours, meaning that getting to the top should take around 4 hours (since it's all uphill one way). We did it in under 2.

A friend we made along the way took this picture of us on the top!

Here are some more photos. Truly one of, if not the most insane thing I have ever seen.

Last but certainly not least, we jumped out of a plane. Enough said.

As I wrap this up, I would like to leave you with two thoughts: First of all, everyone who is able should visit New Zealand at some point in their life. I could not encourage it more. It is truly a spectacle of the world, and the untouched natural beauty is second to none anywhere. Secondly, and on a similar note, recently I have felt that being surrounded by such beauty has strengthened my connection and appreciation of nature. Taking the time to step outside and get some fresh air whenever you can is important to your health. We must care for the earth so it will continue to care for us and provide us with such spectacles to explore.

Thanks for reading, Go Blue, and see you next week!

Sam Goldman

Industrial and Operations Engineering

UNSW Sydney

[nascent-nirvana]

Breathing, Seething, Healing - Ch.1

[Note: alternate extension of Withering Providence]

Autumntide of winter frost's embrace...

...how I miss you in summer's lost grace.

My breath clouds my vision as it evaporates into the winter skies. The air digs into my fur, piercing at the skin beneath. I adjust my scarf, and its ruby red hue catches the snowfall.

It's been weeks since my return from Murinae--years since I've last seen Chie and Maiko. But, if the visions I've seen hold true, their threads of fate continue on. It's only a matter of time till I can find them.

My ride back to Tokor ended abysmally, nearly being thrown into the abyss myself. Escaping by the skin of my teeth, I evaded the masquerade that sought vengeance for the tragedies Murinae has caused. To think Kallie's transformation wouldn't be unique to her... the thought of it sends shivers up my spine.

My thoughts wander as the cold numbs my cheeks. Thus far, I've checked the premises of Kokoe University, but... there was no one there to greet me. Based on the messages I could find on my phone, classes have been cancelled indefinitely, pending research of the masks that now plague the world. Most students on the campus have since departed for home, though some that hail from overseas found themselves unable to go back.

Though Maiko and Chie were there to witness my fate, the others had sent texts to me. Many of them were to find out my state, but, as I read them through them, I found tears hitting my screen as they despaired over my lack of replies. Many of the messages were last timestamped over a year ago.

I checked through my messages, and the groups I participated in have halted to a stop, staggering between a year and three months ago since their last activity. Many of their messages were filled with uncertainty, yet there were those that hung onto hope.

"Stay safe, everyone."

"Things will be okay soon. Hang in there."

"I wish I could just stay in my room and wait for this to pass."

After catching up, I tried to contact Chie. Voicemail wasn't even available anymore. I called Maiko, and similar luck. I've kept my phone off since then--I don't know when I'll have a charger readily available, after all.

A chuckle escapes from my lips as the white snow obscures my vision. Just a few years ago, I was ready to give up. Ready to stain the walls red with my own colors. Yet, despite everything, I'm still walking forward. Despite my self-hatred, my self-loathing, my self-disgust, compounded by the weight of the world, my legs continue to take my forward.

Perhaps it's the gift my long-lost father imparted upon me in his final moments. Maybe it's the desire to see my loved ones safe and sound. Regardless of the reason, I'm still here, breathing.

I recall hearing something on the TV before I departed to the forests by Kokoe. Advertisements for Currawong Corp. had plagued most of the news broadcasts, but sandwiched between them was a bit of information that I've noted: a factory by Kokoe University was converted into a research facility, following the promotion of two scientists.

And, of those scientists, one of them caught my attention.

Noelle Rimu. My own mother.

[garbagevanfleet]

Brightest Blue (series)

PART TEN

Pairing: Josh x reader Warnings: THIS CHAPTER IS 18+ ONLY! sexual content (finally), pot use, alcohol use Summary:  Things are changing. New state. New school. New roommate. You just pray things are going to click into place.

Notes: Okay, guys. If you missed it, this chapter is NSFW. This was the best to write, seriously. Love you all, don't be afraid to tell me what you think of it! 

taglist: @valleyd0ll​​ @satingrass-maidensfair​​ @guitarfingers​​ @thebohemianpenguin​​ @peaceisouranthem​​ @oblvions​​ @hansonobsessed​​ @myownparadise96​​ @lara-gvf​​ @anditsmywholeheart​​ @kill-fear-the-power-of-lies​​ @bigblack-catattack​​​ 

MASTERPOST 

Two weeks before the Saturday of the play, the forecast had called for a blizzard. “Polar vortex” they had called it on the tv at school, flashing graphics of a polar bear wearing a scarf. 

After classes on Friday, you had asked Kate if she wanted to go for coffee. You had been working like a dog on the play - sewing and painting to the point where your fingers perpetually hurt and the only thing you could see when you closed your eyes was the shade of green that every foliage prop was painted.

You ordered a caramel macchiato and genuinely tried to enjoy it, propping your legs up on the chair next to her. 

“So,” she started, eyeing you like she had a bone to pick. She still looked so pretty when she was coming for your life. “We’ve been so busy with Josh, we haven’t had any alone time to talk about Trevor.”

You sucked in a deep breath and relaxed your stiff neck muscles, achy from behind hunched over while sewing. “Yeah. I kind of forgot about it, to be honest.”

“I have not, however. So dish,” she requested, reaching into her purse and pulling out a tube of lipstick. She applied it carefully in her phone camera as you spoke. 

“Josh did it,” you admitted, making her eyes flick over to you momentarily. “I mean, I still slapped him, but Josh was the one that gave him a black eye.”

“And how do you feel about that?” she asked carefully.

You shrugged, wrapping your fingers tightly around your cup, half to leech the heat, and half because you were anxious. “I don’t know. I was kind of upset, but only because he could have gotten kicked out of school for that.”

She just nodded for you to continue as she cleaned up the lines around her lips with a paper napkin. 

“I mean, and for what? He could have been arrested. Just for revenge. I feel like the best revenge would be just be keeping your head high.” You rolled your eyes at the beginning of your statement, just for emphasis. 

She stared at you blankly as she picked up her mug. “Aren’t you flattered? I wish a guy would punch one of my hookups.” 

“I mean, it’s cute, but I feel like he did it more for himself - for his own pride, you know?”

Her expression changed then to something a little heavier, her features sharpening in accusation. “Are you for real? Like, for real, for real?”

You frowned at her, feeling like you were being scolded. “What are you talking about?”

She let out a long breath, looking dumbstruck. “I haven’t really pressed it because I guess I just thought it was something that everyone knew but wasn’t talking about but-” She paused, putting her hand over yours on the table just to really drive the point home. 

“That boy has it bad for you.”

You knew your expression was ridiculous by the way she looked at you with pity. “What the hell are you talking about? Josh? Are we talking about Josh?”

She closed her eyes, pursed her lips, and nodded. 

“Kiszka?” you tried again, still refusing to let her statement sink in. 

“Yes,” she said through a laugh. “Yes, your roommate Josh. Curly hair, hippy bullshit - that guy. I swear to God I thought you knew. I mean, there were times when I was like ‘does she actually know?’ but then I thought ‘there’s no way she lives with him and doesn’t know that’. You’re telling me I was wrong?”

You were struck silent for a few long moments. “Are you sure?”

Thankfully, she was looking at you like you were a puppy with its head stuck in a peanut butter jar. “Look at me. He punched a guy in the face for you.”

You closed your eyes and tried to suppress a smile. “I don’t know.”

“Okay. There’s supposed to be a huge snowstorm this weekend. Now that you’ve heard me say it, return to me on Monday - after spending all weekend in the same place as him - and tell me you don’t see it then,” she said simply. 

“Okay, I will,” you challenged. 

“Okay, you do that,” she quipped with a smirk, leaning back in her seat and crossing her arms over her chest confidently. 

+++

In preparation, you had gone grocery shopping together, picking out everything you’d need to be stuck in the apartment together. He had even made you take him to a thrift store, just so he could see if there was anything fun. In the end, he had come out with a card game in a box, still wrapped. 

Saturday morning the snow started falling, this time in huge, fluffy flakes, and it wasn’t supposed to stop until Monday evening. 

While Josh was in the shower, you decided to get everything ready for the evening’s festivities that you had planned together. You had gone to find a good cheese board at the market until you found out they were too pricey for your (nearly nonexistent) budget, so you ended up laying out different crackers and cheeses onto a circular pizza pan. 

By the time he got out of the shower, you had grapes, pickles, olives, and chocolates laid out on the coffee table, and he caught you just as you were pouring each of you a glass of wine. 

The charcuterie was his idea - actually, the first thing he suggested when you said you wanted to have a fun night in on Saturday. The three different kinds of alcohol had been your idea.

“Okay, it’s all yours,” he informed as he trotted out from his bedroom, dressed in a fresh set of clothes. 

The shower was still warmed up, the mirror still steamy. You got a towel out and stepped in under the spray. 

You took the time to enjoy washing and conditioning your hair - your mom had been sweet enough to send you some of the expensive kind you love. Once you had hinted over the phone that you were homesick and the smell of it reminded you of home, she was already googling it. 

Once you felt sufficiently clean, you stepped out and dried off. The clothes you had taken into the bathroom weren’t anything special - you had chosen comfort over aesthetic - but they were warm, which is what you really needed as the snow fell outside. 

When you joined him back in the living room, Josh was waiting patiently on the couch.

“Ready?” he asked, handing you your glass of wine. 

“You didn’t have to wait for me.” You gestured down at the untouched food. 

He smiled at you. “I know.” 

You sipped at your drink as he gestured to the tv. 

“Movie for background noise?”

You hummed in thought. “Maybe music?” 

He nodded in agreement. “What are you in the mood for?”

“Whatever you pick will be perfect.”

By the time he had made a selection, you had nearly finished your glass of wine. “So, the costumes are coming along well. I got the cutest lace for the trimmings of Alice’s dress. I’m not sure you’ll even be able to see it from the audience, but she’ll look adorable in pre and post-performance pictures.”

He shot you a beaming smile. “That’s some master craft. Your attention to detail is unrivaled.”

You knew that he was just playing, but it still made your stomach flip.

“Should we play our card game?” he suggested, padding over to the kitchen and snatching the bottle of wine off the counter.

You watched his movements as he poured your glass full again. “Thank you. Yeah, we can. Or did you want to be drunker first?”

He hummed. “One shot each?” 

“Of vodka?” you inquired as you picked yourself off of the couch. “Where are the shot glasses?” 

“I don’t think I own any,” he admitted as he watched you rifle through the cupboards. 

You shot him a shocked look. “You’re a college kid; why would you not own a shot glass?”

“Well, we haven’t needed it thus far. I don’t throw a lot of parties if you haven’t noticed.” He gestured around the empty room. “We’ll each just take a pull from the bottle?”

“Okay, you first,” you agreed, thrusting the bottle at his chest. He took it from your grasp with a smirk and then pressed his lips to the rim. He drank until the count of three before swallowing hard and passing it along. 

You followed suit, except with more difficulty. He had made it look so easy, you had almost forgotten how vodka tasted. You swiped your thumb across your lips, wiping them dry in the process. 

You took your seats back on the couch next to each other as the music played through the room. 

“Charcuterie?” you offered, gesturing to the coffee table full of food. 

“Yes, of course.”

As you watched him make a cracker sandwich, you spoke. “So, should we crack this game open?”

After he nodded excitedly, you ripped into the plastic wrap. 

“Okay, it looks like it’s essentially just a questions game. We just draw one at a time and the other person answers them,” you explained after skimming the inside of the box. “And you have to finish your drink if you can’t answer it.”

He laughed. “Okay, ladies first. I’m ready.”

You pushed the stack of cards over at him. “No way, you ask me first,” you stated with a cheeky smile.

He raised his eyebrows at you but relented. As he plucked a card from the deck, he took a sip of wine.

“What is your favorite color?” he asked, leaning in and squinting like the information you were about to provide was essential to his existence. 

You snorted. “Really?” He nodded, prompting you to continue. You hummed as you thought about it. “It’s blue.”

“What kind of blue? Like navy or sky?”

You shook your head. “No, more like that blue that’s so blue it hurts your eyes. The one that was a new pigment discovered not that long ago - so bright it hurts.”

He gave you a sincere smile.  “That’s a good pick.”

“What’s yours?” 

“That’s not how this game works,” he said through a breathy laugh. 

You frowned at him. “Yeah, well. Then I’m asking you as a friend. Josh, what is your favorite color?”

He pursed his lips as he considered his answer. “It’s hard for me to pick, but maybe either red or orange.”

You nodded in agreement as you reached for the deck. “I could see that. Okay, your turn.”

You stared at the card in your hand that read, WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU SLEPT WITH?

“Are you alright?”

You snapped your eyes up to him, quickly nodding as you realized that he had been waiting patiently for you to read it. 

“Okay,” he agreed cautiously. “That’s good. What’s the question?”

You couldn’t suppress an awkward smile as a heat rose to your face. 

“It says, ‘who is the last person you slept with?’,” you informed in a humored tone. You even held it up for him to see.

He stared at the card like it just accused him of a heinous act. “You really got to answer the color question and I have to answer this?”

His intensity made you snort a laugh, though you were trying to hold yourself together so you didn’t spill your wine. “Okay, okay. I’ll answer it too. Maybe we can play the game where we both just answer it.”

“Do you just want to hear me talk about sex?” he prompted with a shit-eating grin. 

You gave him a disbelieving look. “Are you- You’re the one that picked this game out!”

Your overreaction was clearly exactly what he had been looking for. You were anticipating his ribbing to continue, but it didn’t. 

“The last person I had sex with,” he started, pressing his lips against the rim of his glass as he took a swig. “Was from my music theory class.”

“When?” you quickly asked, shocking even yourself.

 “Is that part of the question?” he teased smugly, picking a kalamata olive off of the tray and piercing it with his finger before popping it in his mouth. 

You licked your lips nervously. “No, it isn’t,” you admitted. “You don’t have to answer that, I was just curious.”

“You wanna get high?” 

He was staring directly into your eyes when you looked up at him again. 

“I feel like it’ll make it easier to answer these.”

You nodded at him, biting your bottom lip. “Yes. Yes, I do want to.” 

“My room?” he asked, picking up both of your glasses as he stood. 

“Your room,” you confirmed, following suit. 

Through the slats in his blinds, you could see that the ground was completely covered in a white blanket of snow. You spent some time watching it fall from his bed as he packed a bowl. 

“Here,” he said gently to get your attention. “You take the first hit. I’m going to light it and you’re going to suck in and hold it in.”

You nodded in understanding. 

“Not too much though,” he warned. 

The glass was cool in your hands as you took it from him. When he held the flame to it, you did as you were told before exhaling with care. He was looking at you with a proud expression when you met his eyes. 

You handed it back over to him, waiting until he was in the process of taking a hit before you spoke. 

“Tell me when you slept with her,” you demanded calmly, biting back a smirk at the way his breathing faltered. 

It had turned into a game of chicken as you held each other’s gazes silently. 

“You haven’t even answered the required question yet and you want me to do the extra credit?” he quipped. 

“The last person I fucked was a guy from tinder back home, and it happened a couple of months before I left,” you informed him confidently. “I’ve only ever had one boyfriend, and he was a prick, so when we broke up, I went on a tinder bender just to feel something.”

A small smile spread across his pink lips as he listened. 

“Now you.”

“She was my girlfriend last year. We broke up in April and I had a hard time saying no to late-night texts until the end of June.” His tone was sincere as far as you could tell, as were his eyes. 

You were starting to feel the hit you’d taken by then, and you took a pause from the conversation to lean over the side of his bed and grab the bag of suckers you knew was waiting there for this very occasion. 

The high washed over you in a gentle, pleasant manner, leaving you feeling a little dreamy. 

“Sucker?” you asked, holding the bag open for him. He breathed a laugh - probably at you offering him his own candy - and then plucked one from the bag. 

After he had it unwrapped, he held the bowl out to you again. “Want another? Or am I going to have to smoke the rest of this myself?”

“Yes, I’m sure that would be very rough on you, poor baby,” you teased. 

He huffed a laugh, sitting up a bit straighter in his position. “You want another one or not?”

You stared at him wordlessly for longer than was socially acceptable, but when you finally spoke, it was with conviction. “I’ll have another baby hit.” You pulled the cards from the pocket of your pajama pants. “But then we’re playing another card, right?.”

He glanced down at the bowl and then back up to you. “When you say ‘baby hit’-”

“I mean I want you to blow it into my mouth with your mouth,” you explained cheekily, making him huff a laugh. 

“You liked that, huh?” he asked, risking a dark glance up at you through his long lashes as his fingers played along the glass piece. 

You knew exactly what you wanted to say - could hear it in your head, but your body felt tight with nerves at the thought of actually saying it. “Not as much as you did, I’m guessing.”

Oh, damn, you said it. 

A smirk played across his mouth, his eyes half hooded. If you hadn’t been paying attention, you would have thought he was completely unaffected by your teasing, but you had been listening to his breathing, so you were perfectly aware when it changed slightly. It was just the smallest difference in sound like he was pulling in air through tighter lungs. 

“Be careful with what you’re accusing people of.” A warning, definitely, but almost more of a challenge. In the months that you’d spent with him, you’d never seen him like that, but you suppose you wouldn’t have unless- Unless you were about to make him do something truly reckless. 

You bit your bottom lip out of an anxious, excited energy. “Oh, my mistake then.”

The ball was in his court, and you could tell that he was expecting him to continue pressing him. A look of slight disappointment flashed behind his eyes, but you weren’t done yet. 

You nodded toward the bowl, prompting him to glance down at it like he had forgotten what he was doing in the game he was playing with you. He kept eye contact with you as he brought it to his mouth and lit it. You watched the white smoke circle the inside of the globe before he sucked it into his lungs. 

You tilted your chin up in invitation and tried to relax your muscles as he leaned in, his throat looking tight. 

You felt his nose brush yours first before you realized you had closed your eyes in anticipation. The smoky smell hit you first when you realized you were supposed to be taking it from him. You opened your eyes and tried to breathe it all in, but most of it was lost to the room. 

He had a tiny smirk playing on his features until you reached out and wrapped your hand around the back of his neck, pressing his forehead against yours in an abrupt motion. You could tell he had his teeth clenched by how tight his jaw looked. 

You couldn’t stop yourself from playing your fingers along the sharp line of it. 

“Do you want me?” you whispered, voice barely there at all. 

Through a labored breath, he responded with a smoky sounding, “What would give you that impression?”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you, but unsurprisingly, it came out sounding raw. Your fingers brushed across the short hair on the nape of his neck, the pleasant feeling causing his eyelids to flutter. 

You leaned forward until you pressed your cheekbone against his, lips right by his ear, and pointedly asked, “Do. You. Want. Me?”

“Fucking of course, I do,” he spat through clenched teeth, sounding distressed as his hands wrapped around your waist, thumbs pressed into your hipbones on either side. 

“Should we?” you asked, pulling back so you could see his face. 

“Probably not.” His words were humored, a melodic laugh accompanying them, but still somehow managed to not sound any less strained. 

You considered what he was saying for a moment, relishing in the idea that this was the last moment before the point of no return. “Just one hookup,” you reasoned. 

He smirked at you, looking all too smug and disbelieving. “Okay,” he agreed. 

Patiently, you waited for him to make the first move, your heartbeat bouncing around like a basketball in your chest. When you felt his hands move from your hips, your body tensed, trying to predict where they’d end up next. 

As he cupped your jaw with both hands, you melted a little, muscles noticeably relaxing. 

The kiss was tentative at first - just a brushing of his lips on yours like he was testing the waters. He held your face like he was afraid that you were going to vanish into thin air - like your presence was the key to his existence. 

You could hear his shallow breaths as he opened his mouth, pressing it against yours. His tongue tasted like the orange sucker he’d abandoned on its wrapper on top of the dresser next to his bed. You lapped at it, body rising as you shifted to crawl into his lap. With the way he was sitting, cross-legged on his bed straddling him was a bit of a strain on your inner thighs, but the feeling was oddly pleasing - like a warm-up for the workout you were about to endure. 

He let go of your face to place his hands back on your hips, pulling your body as close to his as it physically could be. Before he could situate you too firmly, you started to unbutton your pajama shirt, and bless his heart, he couldn’t help but watch your fingers work. 

“Is this really happening, or this just a super high fever dream?” he asked, shaking his head as he frowned like he wasn’t sure he could trust his eyes. 

You wanted to laugh at him, but you could hardly blame his disbelief. If someone had told you even earlier that week that you’d be in this position, you would have rolled your eyes at them. You hadn’t realized how much you wanted this until it was about to happen.

The last button undone, you let the garment fall, the pink and white striped fabric slipping off the bed and to the hardwood. 

The cool air was shocking on your bare skin at first, causing it to tighten - well, that and you could practically feel his eyes raking over your chest. 

“It’s happening,” you assured, leaning in until you were speaking against his parted lips. 

The feeling of him brushing the pads of his fingers over your nipple made your breathing shudder. When you tipped your head back, he ducked in and pressed his mouth to your throat, dragging a stripe across your skin with the flat of his tongue. Every part of your whole body felt hot, but none more than between your legs. You tried to grind yourself down on him, but couldn’t seem to get a good angle - luckily, he seemed to notice, and halted your movements with his hands on your hips, stretching his legs out straight.

He pulled back just far enough to see your face when he ground you down onto him, the outline of his cock slipping against your core. Even with all the layers between you, the feeling still made you crumble against him, a whine escaping your lips of its own volition. It was clear that he felt it too as he bit his lip, his eyes fluttering. 

You seized the opportunity to get your fingers under his shirt, lifting it over his head as he held his arms up for you. Before he could prepare for it, you pressed closer, pressing a kiss to his temple and then nipping at his earlobe. The cool metal of his earring was pleasing against your tongue, and you reveled in the moment as he sucked in a sharp, shocked breath. 

His hands snaked around your sides, palms wide as he cupped your ass and used the leverage to pull you against him again. Burying his nose in the crook of your neck, he let a shaky breath escape him.

You could feel his thumbs hook under the elastic band of your pajama bottoms as he started to slip them down the cleft of your ass. Once it was bare, he ran his fingers over it, movement stalling as he looked at you with an eyebrow raised. 

“Are you not wearing panties?”

You scoffed. “Not to bed, obviously. Are you implying that you wear something under those loose pants?”

The corners of his lips tilted up in a wicked smirk. “I encourage you to find out.”

You giggled at his confidence, sweetly nudging your forehead against his, so he didn’t expect the swift movement of your hand as you tugged the tie of his sweats down. The answer to your previous question was “no” - he hissed as you grabbed his erection, swiping your thumb across the head, glossy from the dim light through the blinds. It was just a tease though, because a split second later, you let go of it in favor of wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your mouth against his again. 

As you pressed him back, he tried to hold you, but once he realized you weren’t just leaning on him for support, he relented. You laid him back on his bed, pulling back as you slipped your bottoms off the rest of the way. 

“Jesus,” he breathed as his eyes took in the whole of your naked body above him. “Hang on.” 

He reached to the bedside table and grabbed the bowl and lighter. After he sucked in another hit and set the piece back down, he tugged you in roughly, depositing the smoke directly into your mouth. You tried to hold it in like he had taught you, but you were much more interested in getting your tongue into his mouth. 

Still, you were plenty high, so much so that looking down on his bare form had tears threatening your eyes. He looked so soft and sweet despite the position he was in, his eyes half-lidded and one hand behind his head, one on your bare hip. 

You shifted until you could grind your core against the length of him, the wetness letting it slip through easily. 

“Fuck.” You had thought it was an exclamation of pleasure until you opened your eyes and saw a scowl painted across his face. “I definitely don’t have a condom.”

You hummed through a smile. “I don’t blame you, I definitely didn’t expect this.”

He frowned up at you. “We can just try something else if you want,” he offered.

“Well, I’m on birth control, and given the length of time between our last sexual encounters, I’m guessing we’re both clean - I know I am.”

He stared at you for a long moment before really realizing what you were implying, but once he did, he licked his lips in consideration. 

“Come here.” You weren’t sure what he was requesting until he grabbed onto your thighs and guided you up until you were straddling his face. 

The thought of it made you blush, and surely your cheeks were hot to the touch. 

He started with broad strokes of his tongue, just dragging it through. You briefly wished he had a headboard for you to brace yourself on, but your thoughts quickly became completely incoherent. You decided you were going to lean back instead, placing your palms flat on his bent knees. When you were completely comfortable and situated, he started pointedly flicking his tongue against your clit directly, first very soft and teasing, but building to something rougher and more deliberate. 

You thought you were actually going to shake apart when he sucked your clit right into his mouth, rolling the bead of it around on the flat surface. When you could feel yourself getting close to the edge, you threaded your fingers through his curls, keeping him close. 

The moment you lost it, everything in the room melted away from you - just a black expanse with flicks of color littered throughout it. 

You took a moment to catch your breath, trying to bring yourself, at least partly, back to reality. When you pulled away from him, you were met with the sight of him - the entire bottom half of his face slick with your come. 

He only let you watch in fascination as it dripped from his chin for a second before he was pushing you back, your head laid at the foot of the bed. He slipped his sweats off the rest of the way before crawling over you. 

There was no way you could have blamed him as he pushed in, seemingly not having any time for a slow entrance - you did make him sit there, untouched, for god knows how long. You certainly couldn’t name even a rough estimate for the amount of time passed. 

The spark of pleasure that shot through you made you throw your head back, your spine arching as you let out a whine. 

“I’m sorry, are you okay?” he breathed, through tight teeth.

“Yes,” you hissed as you ground yourself down onto him. “Keep going.”

Your eyes were closed, but you were sure he was wearing an awed expression. You grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him in until your foreheads were pressed together. When he started to move his hips, you let out a long, pleased hum, pressing your nails into the skin on his shoulders. 

Your whole lower half was still incredibly sensitive, so every time he brushed you, it made you writhe a bit beneath him. “Mm, fuck,” you growled as he intentionally reached down and pressed his thumb into your clit, the feeling resting somewhere between “just perfect” and “way too much”.  

He was biting his lip as he watched your reaction intently. You felt his hand snake down your outer thigh, gripping it from the bottom. He lifted it up, near-forcing you to wrap it around his hip.

The new angle was a different kind of feeling - something hot deeper in your gut like someone placed a smoldering ember in your belly.  You weren’t paying attention to anything but your own impending orgasm, so you didn’t expect it when he sucked your nipple into his mouth. He raked his teeth over the bud, causing your hips to jerk against him. 

When you opened your eyes and met his, you took a moment to absorb his expression - like he was seeing another dimension through your face. 

You could tell he was close when his lips fell open, but that was perfect because he was taking you with him. You hitched your legs around his hips and squeezed, letting your head tip back. 

When you came a second time, it was with his open mouth pressed to your throat, his hot breath hitting your damp skin. You let out a low whine, fingers tangled in his hair, probably a little too tight.

You suspected it was probably your muscles clenching in orgasm around him that set him off, a string of expletives falling from his kiss-swollen lips. His hips shuddered as he fucked you through it. 

The other side of your collective climax was warm and fuzzy, like watching home videos from the ‘60s. When he was able to hold himself all the way up, you ran your fingers through his damp curls affectionately. 

He was clearly trying to get his bearings, his breath flowing in and out of him like a tide. 

“Are you okay?” he whispered, sounding like he might not be able to speak any louder than he currently was if he wanted to.

 You hummed through a smile. “So good, Maybe never better.”

He rubbed his nose against yours, the smallest hint of an upward tilt to his lips. “I’m high as hell, so I’m not sure what’s acceptable for our situation right now, but can I kiss you?”

“We probably shouldn’t,” you admitted, making his expression fall slightly. 

He nodded at you in reluctant agreement. “You’re right.” 

You bit your bottom lip. “Ah, fuck it, we’ll start going back to normal tomorrow.”

[wefoundloveunderthelight]

Truth or Dare by GleefullyCaptainSwan

Chapter 1 of 1

Read on AO3 or on FF

Stacy's Tortured Crew: @teamhook @kmomof4 @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @mariakov81 @qualitycoffeethings @zaharadessert @jrob64 @jonesfandomfanatic @natascha-ronin @tiganasummertree @xarandomdreamx @therooksshiningknight @batana54 @superchocovian @onceratheart18 @ultraluckycatnd @snowbellewells @karlyfr13s @the-darkdragonfly @xsajx @deckerstarblanche @jonesfandomfanatic @winterbaby89

Summary: When David Nolan sends Emma Swan and Killian Jones on a simple overnight business trip to Denver, the two just want to take care of negotiations and return home. But the storm of the century has other plans as they embark on a night of discovery, learning more about their co-worker than either anticipated.

Notes: This fic really has no point, I've been in a weird place, my WIPs are going nowhere so I wrote this one for fun to shake the cobwebs, so I hope you enjoy this little smutty trip to Denver.

Truth or Dare

“So, I’m going to need to send someone to Denver tomorrow.” Everyone in the room groaned and Emma tried to sink down in her chair. She hoped by making herself smaller, David wouldn’t see her, wouldn’t select her to travel this weekend. It’s not like she had plans, except to maybe binge watch the next few episodes of Bridgerton before Season 2 started up.

“Emma, I really need you there.” She internally groaned but smiled at her boss.

“Of course, I’m all over it, you can count on me, Boss.” He nodded and then turned his head to the other side of the large table.

“Killian, your input might be of use here.”

Emma wanted to slide under the table. Why on earth would David send Killian with her?

“Sir?”

“I think it’s important for you to provide your marketing experience to the executives.”

“Of course.” He remarked and Emma rolled her eyes, she didn’t need Killian’s experience in anything, she could handle a simple business negotiation without him but who was she to argue with David Nolan?

Emma stood from the table and hurried back to her office to book her travel. The moment she closed her door it opened behind her.

“Do you fly United, love?”

Her eyes literally rolled back in her head before she turned around. She looked up to see Killian Jones standing in her doorway. “You already know that’s the preferred partner of Nolan Industries.”

“I can book the hotel if you book the flight, might be easier if we divide and conquer on such short notice.”

“Yeah whatever.” She said, barely looking in his direction as she sat down at her desk.

“Alright, well, just email me the flight information. Did you need a ride to the airport tomorrow?”

“I can get there myself.” She said shortly, hoping he would just leave but realizing he was still standing in her doorframe. She sighed and then looked up to meet his gaze. “I’ll just meet you there.”

He smiled hesitantly as he finally started to leave. “Sure, sounds good. See you tomorrow.”

Emma kept her eyes on the screen in front of her, the last thing she needed to think about was a whole weekend alone with Killian Jones.

It wasn’t that she hated him, he seemed nice enough, she just didn’t spend a lot of time getting to know the people in her office, choosing instead to spend her time alone in her apartment after work, curled up with a glass of wine and a good book.

Killian had started working for the company about two years ago and while every woman at the company tripped over themselves to get to know him, she had better things to do.

Now she was going to have to spend an entire weekend alone with him in Denver. Her only hope was that the negotiations would be simple, and she would be back in her hotel room before he got on her nerves or even worse, tried to get to know her better.

~*~

Killian stared out the window as the plane made it’s decent. He hadn’t expected David to pick him for this trip, yet here he was, landing in Denver to negotiate an important deal for the company. Things were finally looking up for him professionally.

He could see the blonde hair of his travel partner from the top of her seat. He wasn’t surprised to find that Emma had booked his seat three rows behind her instead of beside her. They weren’t exactly acquaintances, in fact, Killian had yet to really make an impact on the woman since joining the company two years ago.

Not for lack of trying on his part, yet she seemed disinterested in talking to him beyond the occasional “how was your weekend” question as they passed each other in the hallway. Normally it didn’t take much for a woman to show interest in talking to him, generally he spent more time running from the women in his office than he did chasing one. This made Emma Swan intriguing, infuriating, and somewhat of an enigma to him.

They sat in silence on the cab ride to the hotel, large flakes of snow falling all around them outside the car.

“It’s the storm of the century.” The cab driver lamented. “Can’t say I’ve seen worse weather in all my time living here.”

“Wonderful.” Emma complained beside him.

“They’re saying the power is out all over town. I’ll be surprised if your hotel even has heat.”

“I’m sorry what?” Emma raised her voice and Killian reached out to still the woman beside him.

“I’m sure it’s fine, Swan.”

“How do you know; you are arriving at the same time as me?”

“Storm of the century.” He smirked, staring at her in annoyance, there was nothing he was going to say to put her at ease. And to his utter chagrin, when they arrived at the hotel he was quick to notice that the entrance was filled with candles, lighting the way to the front desk.

“So, it’s not fine then.” She remarked sarcastically as he held the door open for her.

It was going to be a bloody long weekend.

~*~

Emma looked around the lobby of the mostly dark hotel. Of course she would be traveling to Denver in the middle of a snowstorm. They had received a phone call letting them know that due to the weather, the meeting had been delayed until the morning, so now all she wanted to do was to get to her room, climb under the covers, forget about the entire trip, and go to bed early.

Killian approached her after talking to the desk clerk and she could already see from the look on his face, she wasn’t going to like what he had to say. “Alright Swan, do you want the good news or the bad news?”

She stared at her traveling partner in disgust. “Why is there bad news?”

“Storm of the century.” He said matter-of-factly, a smirk on his face.

“Fine, good news first.”

“Due to the storm, the restaurant isn’t open tonight, however they are providing dinner to our rooms for free, and the bar is included in the room service.”

“Lovely, then what is the bad news?” She scowled.

“Well love, apparently there was some sort of mix up in the reservation and well…”

She stared at his face, the frown growing on her lips as he hesitated to share whatever horrid news he had. “Spit it out, Jones.”

“They only had one room and well due to the storm, they are booked solid.” He held up the key in front of her. “So…roommate?”

Emma groaned loudly. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I assure you love; I would not joke about such a thing.” He tried to smile but Emma could see he was just as anxious as she was about the situation they were in.

“Fine, we’ll share the room.” She stated begrudgingly, following him up the stairs toward their floor. She was happy that they only had to climb three flights instead of higher into the darkness.

By the time he pushed the door open on room 322, she wanted to just hop in the shower and forget the entire debacle, however the moment she saw the room her heart dropped.

“It’s only got one bed, Jones.” She growled.

“About that, Swan…did I forget to mention the bed situation?”

“Bed Situation? This is more than a bed situation; this is a nightmare.” She complained, dropping her bag on the floor.

“I’ll take the floor, no need to worry. Everything will work itself out.” He shrugged, setting his bag in the corner, and lighting a few of the candles the hotel had offered them.

Emma sighed. “Fine. But I have dibs on the shower first.”

“As you wish, I hope a grilled cheese is satisfactory for dinner? They didn’t have a lot of options.”

Emma exhaled harshly, at least dinner would be to her liking, but she didn’t want to tell Killian that. He was the one who screwed up the reservation after all. She knew she should have planned her own trip. “It will do.” She said shortly as she stepped into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

~*~

Killian set the food out on the table, listening to the shower still running in the bathroom. The last thing he expected on this trip was to be sharing a room with Emma Swan, The Ice Princess of the Boardroom.

The bathroom door opened, and Emma stepped out in a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, her wet hair was pulled up into a towel on top of her head. He had never seen her look so relaxed outside of the office.

“Dinner is served, though it seems a bit cold.” He shrugged. “I supposed I’ll shower now since it won’t affect the temperature of the food if I wait or not.”

He retreated to the bathroom, quickly closing the door behind him to step into the hot shower and wash away the stress of the trip. He knew it wouldn’t be long until all the hot water was gone.

To be honest, the trip wasn’t a total nightmare. It wasn’t that he minded traveling for Nolan Industries, he had been grateful to David Nolan for taking him on, glad that there were still people willing to put their trust in him after what had happened at Gold Enterprises.

But being stuck in this hotel room with Emma Swan in the middle of the storm of the century was going to take more than just grilled cheese and some blankets on the floor for the trip not to end in a nightmare. He heard a knock on the door and quickly dried off to dress for the night.

When he left the bathroom, he saw the bottle of rum sitting on the table as Emma sat chewing on her sandwich. “You ordered rum? Really?”

“Figured it would keep us warm without the heat.”

“You want to drink a bottle of rum? With no mixers?”

“Sorry Princess, they didn’t have anything else. No need to partake if you can’t handle it.” He groused.

“I didn’t say I couldn’t handle it.” She scoffed defiantly.

They sat through dinner in an uncomfortable silence, chewing their food while ignoring the tight quarters they were being forced to share. He reached for the bottle and poured two glasses. “What do you say? Wanna play a game, love?”

“Excuse me?”

“Fancy a drinking game…unless you have a better idea? Never have I ever?”

“What are you twelve years old?” She laughed, reaching out to take her glass from the table and looking around the room as if she were considering her options.

“Come now, lass, I’ll start…” He paused. “Never have I ever played a drinking game while sitting in the dark with a co-worker.” He quickly took a drink. He watched as she looked at him in confusion. When she didn’t drink he exhaled. “If you’ve done it, you have to drink, Swan.”

“I know how to play the game.” She said dryly, putting the glass to her lips as she swallowed the liquid, her face immediately puckering. “God that’s not even good rum.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers; it warms the blood.” Emma wrapped the blanket around her shoulders.

“Fine, never have I ever gotten a tattoo.” She sat her glass on the table watching him suspiciously. He lifted the glass to his lips and took a sip. “Seriously? Where?”

He lifted his sleeve, showing the ship’s anchor on his shoulder. “Got it when I turned 18.”

“An anchor?”

“Aye, my brother Liam, he was in the Navy when he passed.” Her face dropped.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I had no idea.”

“No harm, lass.” He lowered his sleeve and thought about his next question, wanting to change the topic. “Never have I ever been in love.” After he took a drink, he was surprised when she didn’t. “Bullshit.” He scoffed.

“What? I haven’t.”

“It’s hardly a fair game if you aren’t going to be honest.”

“I am being honest; I’ve never been in love.” She stood up from the table and walked over to the bed. “This is a stupid game, let’s play something else.” She took another drink from her glass.

“Fine, truth or dare, love?”

She giggled loudly, “You’re kidding right? Do you play anything that’s not meant for high school students?” She sighed. “Fine, truth it is, but this is ridiculous.”

~*~

After the third question, Emma was starting to feel the alcohol spinning in her head. “Ok Jones, truth or dare?”

“Let’s shake things up, I’ll take a dare.”

“Oooh, brave.” She giggled and then thought about her options before coming up with something delicious. “Ok then, I dare you to go into the hall, knock on a door of your choosing, and flirt with whoever answers. Gender doesn’t matter.”

“That’s all you’ve got? Dare accepted.” He jumped up from his chair and peeked into the hallway, knocking on the door directly across the hall. The door slammed shut and she jumped up from the bed, peering through the peephole. She could hear his voice on the other side as an elderly woman opened the door.

“Good evening, gorgeous.”

“Can I help you, son?”

“With the storms brewing I thought I would check in on you, make sure that you are doing alright, love.”

“What are you playing at?” The woman asked with a cranky tone.

“I would hate a lovely lass such as yourself to find herself alone and without warmth on a night like tonight. Perhaps you are in need of some company, if you know what I mean?”

Emma put a hand over her mouth to stifle the laugh that escaped, pushing away from the door when Killian returned to the room, his hair and shirt soaking wet. “What happened?”

“Can you believe it; she threw a glass of water on me. Apparently she was not in the need of any company.” He said exasperatedly. Emma couldn’t contain her laughter until he tore the shirt over his head and tossed it to the ground. She swallowed hard as she stared at his naked torso, dark tendrils of hair covering his chest. She climbed back on the bed, dragging the pillow over her lap as she tried to hunker down into the mattress.

Killian plunked down into his chair and stared at her. “Your turn love.” He sighed, finishing his glass of rum, and pouring another round. He held the bottle up to her and she leaned forward, holding her glass up for him to fill. She knew she shouldn’t continue drinking but there was nothing else for the two of them to do anyway.

“I’m not ready for payback, so I’ll choose truth.” She shrugged.

“Have you ever cheated on a partner?”

“That was a waste of a question, never. I wouldn’t do that to someone I was with.” She took a sip of her drink and gestured for him to take his turn.

“Alright love, give me your best truth question.”

Emma bit her lip. “What happened to your brother?”

He seemed surprised by her question, taking a long sip of his drink. “Um…” He paused, almost hesitant to continue. “It was a training incident, his unit got cut off from the rest of the group and he made the call to save his team instead of returning to his family.”

Emma watched as he spoke with sincerity and sadness. Maybe it was the alcohol, but she had never seen Killian seem so genuine before. She almost felt guilty for the way she had been behaving toward him all day, none of this had been his fault, unless he was somehow responsible for the weather.

“He will always be a hero to me.” He lifted his glass and toasted toward the sky. Emma sat in silence, taking a sip of her drink in support. “Alright Swan, your turn.”

“I’ll stay with truth.” She smiled.

He narrowed his eyes. “What’s the most recent lie you’ve told?”

Emma stared at her feet, rocking back in the bed, she bit her lip as she contemplated her answer. “Fine, maybe I have been in love. Once.” She took another drink of her alcohol.

“Why lie about that, lass?”

“I don’t know, I guess being in love with Neal is a piece of my history that is more embarrassing to admit. I mean, he played me, he made me feel like a total idiot.”

“Honestly, I always thought Neal was kind of a douche.”

She cackled loudly. “He was a terrible person but an even worse lover.” She snorted as if she had just told her girlfriend a close secret.

“You alright there, love?” He asked as she buried her face in her pillow. She pulled the pillow away and stared at him.

“Who were you in love with?”

“Sorry?”

“You drank on that question, so who were you in love with?”

“I’m not the one who chose truth, love. That was your question, not mine.” He took another drink before getting up from the table and sitting on the floor. “Alright, bring it on, Swan. Dare.”

~*~

“Truth.”

“Hmm…” He pursed his lips and took another drink. “Best orgasm you’ve ever had?” His eyes never left her face as he watched her cheeks blush.

“Oh God no, no, no, can I change to dare instead?” She laughed, her face looking on in horror.

“I think that’s against the rules, but I’ll allow it.” He brushed his fingers against the stubble at his jaw. “Ok, Swan, I dare you to serenade me with your favorite song.”

“Oh God, I can’t sing…”

“Either you answer the question or give me your best Beyonce. Come on Swan, I believe in you.” He teased with a wink.

Emma took a long swig of her drink and stood up on the bed. “Oh God I can’t believe I’m doing this.” She covered her face with her hands and Killian couldn’t help but recognize how beautiful the woman truly was.

And then she sang, in the loudest voice she could muster, so loud that he half expected the grumpy old woman across the hall to come banging on their door.

“Kiss me beneath the milky twilight

Lead me out on the moonlit floor

Lift your open hand, strike up the band

And make the fireflies dance, silver moon's sparkling

So kiss me”

She held her arms out as she finished her last note and then collapsed on the bed, burying her face in the sheets. “Oh my God I can’t believe I just did that.”

He clapped loudly, holding his drink up toward her. “Well done, Swan. Truly remarkable, loud, but remarkable.”

~*~

After a couple of hours, Emma was starting to feel like she was getting a better understanding of Killian Jones. With each question he shared more of his personality, something that was starting to intrigue her. But…she felt like he was holding something back. She thought about her next question, asking before he finished his glass.

“Why did you leave Gold Enterprises?” She immediately saw the way he flinched at the question. She expected it honestly, the details surrounding Killian’s previous employer was shrouded in mystery. David had only shared that Gold Enterprises loss was Nolan Industries gain.

“Bloody hell, a little bit of alcohol and you go right for the jugular.”

“Are you choosing dare instead?” She asked with a tight smile.

“Fair is fair…” He sucked in a deep breath. “I guess the truth is I wasn’t really given a choice to stay.”

“So, you were fired?” She asked, confirming her earlier suspicion.

“Aye, but to be fair, it was a fate I deserved.”

“Stealing from the company?” She joked.

“You’re not far off.” He said seriously and Emma’s mouth dropped open. She was not expecting that.

“Wait, seriously? You stole from the company and David still hired you?”

“Not from the company, love.” He poured another glass of rum. “I suppose you could say I stole from Mr. Gold.”

“You stole money from Robert Gold?” She asked, a complete feeling of shock overwhelming her.

“Not money, but something he treated with just as much disregard.” He responded sadly. “Robert’s wife, Milah Gold.”

“Oh my God, you had an affair with the boss’s wife?” She dropped the pillow into her lap.

“It’s not as nefarious as you might think. I didn’t seek out an affair, I never intended something so distasteful. You remember when you asked me who the woman was that I loved from our earlier question? Milah was that woman.” He said solemnly.

“I’m guessing you got caught, hence Gold firing you.”

“I wasn’t aware she was Robert’s wife. We met at an office party; it was love at first breath to be honest. We began seeing each other, I should have questioned her insistence on keeping things private, but I only saw what I wanted to see. I was just as surprised as Robert when he caught us in my office, suddenly I saw a completely different side of her. And of course, her husband would believe her word against mine.”

“That’s terrible. I can’t believe she lied to you both.”

“You live and learn. She is and always will be my biggest regret and my greatest weakness.” He took another long drink from his glass, setting the cup back on the table and locking eyes with her. “But damn the sex was good. Best sex of my life…” He winked. “So far.”

Emma buried her face in her hands and laughed. “Oh God. I’ll never have a story like that. I’ve never even had an orgasm during sex much less had the best sex of my life.”

“That my dear is a bloody shame.” He shook his head. “There is no excuse for any man who doesn’t desire being able to make his woman fall apart either by his hand…” He sat up in his seat, “On his tongue, or buried inside of her as she screams your name.” Emma’s cheeks warmed and unconsciously she felt the nervous snort build inside of her before it escaped her mouth, Killian’s brow rose in amusement.

“Those men only exist in porn, fanfiction, or wet dreams. Men are only interested in getting their cocks off.”

He grabbed his chest and exhaled loudly. “You wound a man, Swan.”

“Just being honest.” She shrugged. “At least in my experience.”

He passed her the bottle of rum. “Just who are you, Swan?”

She took the bottle and poured it into her empty glass, trying to ignore the stare of his piercing blue eyes. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

He looked down at his hands for a moment before meeting her eyes again, something dark, yet honest swirling behind his pupils. “Perhaps, I would.”

She swallowed thickly, bringing the glass to her lips to have another sip of her liquid courage before passing the bottle back to him. She sat back on the bed again, trying not to settle her eyes in his lap. Wondering exactly what was behind those delicious sweatpants.

The silence sat thicky between them and Emma bit her lip. “Um it’s my turn…” She closed her eyes and breathed out. “Dare.”

She heard him chuckle before her lids opened, drawing up his body until she met his eyes. His tongue darted out to wet his lips and Emma admonished herself for wondering what he tasted like. “Alright Swan…” He paused, swirling his glass in front of him. “I dare you to let me show you what a real orgasm is like.”

She laughed loudly before realizing that he was serious. “No way.”

“I can’t sit by knowing that my gender has failed you, I think it only fair to right that wrong.”

Emma thought maybe she had drunk too much rum and had obviously passed out. There was no way he was suggesting what she thought he had said. “That’s not happening…we’re not…no.” She laughed, more certain now that if she herself hadn’t had too much to drink, he certainly had.

“Are you refusing the dare?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Seriously? It’s not happening, you and I…never going to happen.”

“I’ve not proposed marriage, love. Are you that terrified of an orgasm?”

“I’m not afraid of…you’re crazy.” She couldn’t think straight, suddenly images of Killian Jones touching her were invading her thoughts, causing reactions she wasn’t prepared for. Was it suddenly hot in here? She fanned herself without thought, seeing the immediate amusement on his face.

“Are you quite sure it’s that crazy? Come now, we’ll make rules, Swan.”

“Rules? No…” She squeezed her legs together, covering herself with her pillows. “No, we’re not making…what kind of rules would we even…?” Oh God, was she considering this?

“You can stay fully dressed, not a stitch of clothing would need to be removed.”

“Yeah right, because that’s possible.” She snorted.

“I can assure you lass, it’s very attainable.” He said seriously, his eyes dark and dangerous. Was he real?

“How are you going to…you know, without even touching me?” Oh God she was talking about this like it was a normal thing. This was not normal, it was crazy.

“I’m quite talented, Swan.” He winked and Emma flushed.

Fuck, she really was considering this.

“So fully clothed…and no kissing.” She heard herself say, barely recognizing her own voice.

“On the mouth.” He smirked. “I think I can accept those terms.”

“You think you can…” She scoffed. “This is crazy.” She shook her head, pulling the pillow up to her face.

“Fully clothed, no kissing on the mouth, anything else?” His voice was deep, did he always sound like that? She thought about what he said, none of this was possible, he was going to touch her through her clothes, he couldn’t kiss her, there was no way she was going to get off that way. Even when she tried to do it herself, it took her a frustratingly long time to get where she needed to be.

“Besides not doing it all, no, there isn’t anything else. I think those rules have already set you up for failure.” She chuckled nervously.

“Then we have an accord.” He sat up in his chair. “Come here, love.”

She swallowed hard. “Over there?”

“Aye.” His eyes locked with hers as she stood from the bed and walked toward him, her legs shaking with each step. She stared down at him as he sat back in the chair. He took her hand and pulled it to his mouth, brushing his lips against her palm. Good Lord, just watching him touch her was enough to leave her shivering. “Sit.” He demanded as he put his hands on her hips and turned her away from him, pulling her down into his lap. “Relax love.” His hands wrapped around her waist, and she felt his breath against her neck, sending electric shockwaves down her back. Her jaw tensed the moment she felt his mouth skim her earlobe.

“Most men fail in this complex task because they don’t pay attention to the cues.” His tongue glided against her neck. “It’s not about what you say, it’s about how she reacts to your words.” Emma shivered as the tenor of his voice vibrated in her ear. “Do you want me to touch you, Emma?”

Her entire body reacted the moment he said her name, she was either lost in a sea of alcohol, or drowning in his voice, currently she didn’t know which but the wetness forming between her legs made it clear that either one was working for her. She bit her lip. “Come, love, use your words.” He teased as his hands slid between her legs. She sat back in his lap, immediately intrigued by the bulge protruding against her backside.

He paused his hands at her thigh, his mouth hot against her ear. “Emma…”

“Yes.” She moaned, feeling his smirk grow against her skin.

“Good girl.” He mewed and the moment the words brushed against her, she melted into his touch. She was putty in his hands, and he was only touching her through her clothes. She could suddenly imagine him doing so much more, thoughts that had her entire body on fire. One hand palmed her mound through her sweatpants while the other traveled up her body, resting under her breast.

She wanted his hands on her, anywhere, as he continued to breathe heavily against her ear. When she moved her hips she heard him groan, a sound so simple yet so full of wanton desire that she thought she might fall apart in that very moment.

His hand slid against her breast, her nipple pebbling against the thin material of her pajama top. His thumb slid against the erected nipple, his tongue languidly pressed against her neck, it was so much and yet not enough all at once.

The noise she made was soft, yet the squeak that came after was not. He chuckled against her. “That’s the sound I want to hear.” He growled. His hand pressed against her center, pulling her against the bulge in his pants, grinding her down against him as they both moaned with an irrational need she never knew existed.

It felt like his hands were everywhere, his fingers were hard at her puckered nipple, the friction from his hands against her crotch had her soaking with desire. She couldn’t believe she was so close to the edge, so ready to fall into oblivion. “Let go, Emma.” His whisper was dripping with sex, the very definition of dangerous. She leaned back against his chest, feeling him grind his hips into her backside as his mouth brushed against her jaw, his lips dangerously close to hers.

It was overwhelming, but everything she needed before his name fell from her lips and her body released against him, her breaths coming out hot and heavy, her head swirling in thoughts she couldn’t even admit to herself. She could feel him breathing against her neck, a feeling that reminded her of the fact that she was still sitting on his lap as she came down from her high.

She stood quickly, removing herself from his embrace, she retreated to the safety of her bed, terrified of meeting his gaze. When she looked up he was watching her, his eyes still lost in a haze, not completely focused. “That was um…quite surprising and yet satisfying.”

“Aye it was…” He let his words hang in the air, not finishing his thought, simply drifting off as he stared at her.

“We should order dessert.” She announced, suddenly feeling like it was vital to eat something before the alcohol threatened to remove all her inhibitions.

He remained serious for a moment, almost lost in thought before the corner of his mouth upturned. “Dessert sounds delightful.”

~*~

Killian’s tongue darted across his lips, wetting them as they threatened to dry completely. He watched Emma sitting on the bed, enjoying each scrumptious bite of her cheesecake. Each moan of satisfaction she exclaimed from the delicate treat threatened to send him into oblivion.

He wasn’t sure how he had survived her dare, how he managed not to slip his hands into her pants and slide between the heat of her wet folds. He knew it was bad form to break an accord but the moment he had her writhing and moaning in his lap he had almost forgotten his manners.

The alcohol wasn’t helping either. With dessert came another bottle of rum and Emma seemed eager to continue their previous game of Never Have I Ever. He couldn’t tell if she truly enjoyed the information she gleaned from the game or if it were an excuse not to have to go to bed with him in the room.

“Never have I ever ridden a motorcycle.” She said excitedly as she watched him tip his glass to his mouth and drink.

“I’m fairly certain you’ve set these questions up in order to ensure I end up drunk.” He mused. “You know damn well I ride that bike to work every day, I park next to that awful yellow vessel you captain.”

She grinned, her tongue slipping out of her mouth for a moment and suddenly he felt his pants growing tighter, the woman was driving him mad with that mouth of hers. “Never have I ever died my hair pink.” He smirked.

“That’s cheating, David mentioned that in last week’s meeting.”

“If your motorcycle question wasn’t cheating, neither is this. Now drink, love.”

She tilted the glass back, downing the rest of the liquid in her drink. “Time for truth, answer me this…”

“Are we just making up the rules now?” He laughed.

She sat up on her knees, her pillow in her lap. “Have you ever thought of doing that before?”

“Doing what?” He questioned.

“That, what we did earlier.” She said as her cheeks blushed red.

“Have I ever thought of bringing you to orgasm through your clothes, love?” He responded with a look of pleasure, enjoying the squirm of discomfort it brought her. She nodded uncomfortably. “Just helping a lass out, couldn’t stand to hear you’d never experienced that before.”

“So, you got no enjoyment out of it?”

“Ah, so you want to know if I…”

“Did you, you know…” She pressed on, not making eye contact with him.

“Got off, ejaculate, jizz in my collective pants…”

“Oh my God, stop.” She wheezed anxiously. “I’m just curious, you know if you…”

“Came to completion?” He smirked. “A gentleman never tells.”

“Oh, now you’re a gentleman.” She teased.

“I’m always a gentleman, love.” He stated emphatically, his eyes not leaving hers.

“So, you didn’t?” She asked with an almost pouting frown. “I just thought you might have with the sounds you were…”

“Trust me, if I had you would have known.” He looked down at his lap with a smile.

She bit her lip, sitting up on her knees and he thought that although he managed to hold off before he might just jizz in his pants now. “I dare you to show me…”

“I’m sorry, what? I just did truth, now we’re suddenly doing dare?” It was at this moment that he realized that Emma Swan was bloody perfect and was going to be the death of him before the end of the evening.

“That’s because you wouldn’t do it anyway.” She said with a shrug of her shoulders.

“You intend me to show you what exactly?”

“You know…” She asked shyly, covering her face with her hands.

“Are you asking to see my dick, love? You seem to have trouble tonight using your words, Swan?” This evening was shaping up to be quite the surprise, but he was going to make her work for it.

“I want to see how you…you know, get off.”

“Bloody hell.” He swore, shifting immediately in his seat. “Who are you and what have you done with Emma Swan?”

She sat back on the bed and bit her lip. “You watched me get off, I’m just curious, because I kinda thought you did too but if you didn’t, then that’s really not fair is it?”

“Fair?” He scoffed. “Suddenly there’s fair in truth or dare?”

“You got to see me in that state, in order to lower the playing field, I think it’s only right.”

“Lower the playing field?”

“I mean we work together and now anytime I see you I’m going to know that you watched me…you know, and I think it might be better if at least I could say the same.”

“You kept your bloody clothes on, I’m hardly seeing how watching me…”

“I didn’t say I thought you’d actually do it.” She said sharply.

“Is that so?”

She nodded slowly and he stood defiantly, pulling his sweats down his hips, and pushing them to the floor in one sweep. His cock stood at attention against his stomach, begging to be touched.

Well, he had bloody done it now, he was either going to end up fired or lose his mind.

“Holy shit…” She whispered from the bed, leaning back against the headboard. He waited for her to scream or yell or say something even remotely angry, like threaten to take him to HR, but instead she simply wet her lips with her tongue and stared at his crotch.

Before he could stop himself, he settled back into his chair, grasping himself in hand as he gave himself a pump. His eyes closed for a moment and his head fell backwards. What the hell was he doing? He opened his eyes again, glancing toward the woman on the bed who seemed entranced with the way his hand moved. His arousal grew as he watched her squeeze her legs together, her fingers white as she gripped the sheets beside her. He could only imagine what her fingers could do to him.

He stroked himself in a fluid motion, keeping his eyes on the woman in the bed, wishing like hell he could touch her again, to have her touch him. He heard a noise from across the room, a moan he was sure she tried to stifle, and it only seemed to propel him further, increasing the speed of his hand.

“Fuck.” She whispered as he trailed the full length of his erect cock with his fist, pumping quickly as his eyes traveled her body, the thin material of her shirt barely concealing her erect nipples.

“See something you like?” He whispered breathlessly. Her eyes locked with his and the moment they did he felt his entire body tense as ropes of white streamed out across his stomach and chest, eliciting a loud groan. “Fuck, Emma…” His eyes squeezed shut as he fisted himself until his movements slowed, his hand dripping with the sticky substance as he tugged along his shaft waiting for his breathing to return to normal.

When he opened his eyes she was staring at him, blinking silently. “I’m uh, just gonna clean this up.” He stood quickly and entered the bathroom, closing the door shut behind him as he slid down the door toward the floor.

~*~

Emma stared at the closed door, hardly able to breath after what she just witnessed. Killian Jones had just jerked off in front of her. It was the most sobering and intense thing she had ever witnessed. She had been frozen to her spot in the bed, her body aching, the tension inside of her winding up again after her earlier release. She didn’t know how to describe what she had just watched. She couldn’t even believe he had gone through with her request, much less that she actually had the nerve to watch him do it.

It was the hottest thing she had ever seen. But now what?

They just go back to work and pretend they took a trip to Denver, completed their work, and returned home? How was she ever going to sit across from him at the meeting table again without seeing him sitting in that chair, his eyes glued to her body as he pumped himself to completion?

She was screwed.

The door opened and Emma jumped slightly. He walked over to the closet and pulled the extra pillow and blankets down from the shelf, arranging them on the floor across from the bed as if nothing had happened.

“What are you doing?”

“Going to bed.” He shrugged.

“On the floor? I mean, after all that tonight, I think we can manage to share a bed. We’re adults, right?”

“Emma, I wouldn’t want to impose.”

She snorted. “You just gave me the best orgasm of my life, but you don’t want to impose by sleeping next to me in this shitty ass hotel we got forced to share.”

He smirked, “Best orgasm of your life, eh?”

“Just get in the bed, Jones.” She demanded, pulling the covers down on the other side of the bed.

“As you wish.” He bowed before blowing out the candle and climbing onto the mattress. Emma laid on her back, staring up at the dark ceiling. She couldn’t turn off her brain, she had so many thoughts swirling around in there.

“Truth…” She said softly. “What were you thinking about?”

She heard his quiet chuckle before he spoke. “I was thinking about what would have happened if you had still been on my lap.”

She slapped his chest. “I’m serious.”

“So was I.” She felt him roll over onto his side, facing her. “Just imaging what it would have been like without those ridiculously intrusive sweatpants in the way.” Emma swallowed, almost choking on her own spit. “Emma.” He said in a whisper, the heat of his breath only inches from her face. “Truth or dare…”

She felt like she was holding her breath. “Dare…” She replied softly.

She felt his mouth against her neck. “I dare you to kiss me.”

She turned quickly, her lips seeking his in the dark, he met her with a fury as he buried his hand in her hair, a groan escaping his throat.

His tongue pressed against her lips, and she opened her mouth to give him access. His hand lay still on his hip, the other still tangled in her hair, she needed more.

“I Dare you…” She moaned. She felt him chuckle against her lips. “Please touch me…” It was almost a whine, full of desperation and want but it had the impact she was hoping for. He rolled her over onto her back, his mouth still attacking hers until she felt the skim of his teeth against her jaw as he worked his way to her neck.

Emma was positively humming in anticipation when his fingers skimmed her waist, slipping under her t-shirt until she felt flesh against her abdomen, sucking in a breath, she let out a moan she couldn’t suppress. She had never done anything like this before. The entire evening with Killian was out of the realm of “normal Emma Swan behavior”, and yet with Killian, she wanted this, she wanted him, she wanted to feel this insanely powerful freeing feeling that being with him gave her.

His fingers continued to travel upward until she felt them brush the underside of her breast, and she arched toward his hand, pressing herself against his palm. “So needy.” He groaned against her neck.

Needy didn’t describe her desire strongly enough, she wrapped a leg around the back of his thigh, pulling his body against hers as she grinded her hips into his. “Want more.” She said breathily.

“Patience, Swan. I’ll give you what you need.” He promised, his eyes suddenly meeting hers when his fingers finally found her nipple, kneading it against his thumb. The wanton moan escaping her throat loudly.

“Yes…” She sighed. “More.”

He smirked, tugging her shirt up her body and dipping his head to press his lips against her flesh, sucking her pert nipple into his mouth. She mewed softly, her fingertips lightly scraping his scalp as she tugged the dark strands of hair in her hand, pulling him against her body.

His other hand trailed down her body, her flesh on fire everywhere he touched, and the only thing that could stop the burn was more Killian. She felt his fingers playfully dipping under her waistband, the anticipation of his touch growing more desperate.

His fingers dipped between her folds, almost teasing as he slipped inside of her only to immediately withdraw. She groaned in frustration and felt his smirk, the hairs on his jaw scratching against her breast, his fingers plunging inside of her again. Her head was spinning as she arched off the bed. “God yes.”

“I want to hear you sing, my beautiful Swan.” She had no chance to react the moment she felt his breath against her core. Her fingers tightened in his hair, needing to feel him closer. She could feel the spring winding inside of her again, similar to earlier in the evening when he touched her through her sweats, only now it was divine, now he was driving inside of her, his wet tongue licking a stripe against her, her legs tensing as he continued to drive into her.

She could feel herself getting closer, his fingers weren’t enough, she needed more.

“I need to feel you inside me.” She moaned.

He paused his movement, glancing up to meet her eyes before he slid up her body. “Never have I ever wanted a woman so badly in my life.” The kiss was desperate and full of intention and Emma matched the intensity as his tongue invaded her mouth. She dug her feet against the back of his knees, grinding her body against his erection, her hands desperately tugging at the waistbands of his sweatpants.

“Then take these damn things off…” She whined, anxiously tugging at her own to pull them from her body. She hadn’t felt this desperate in years, an urgent need welling as the fire burned inside of her. The clothes flew around the room before they came together again, she could feel his erection at her side, hard and waiting. His mouth was hot on hers as he slid between her legs, and she felt the welcome intrusion press against her center.

“Wait, wait, wait…” She scrambled, pulling away from him. “When were you last with someone?”

He pressed his mouth to her cheek, “It’s been a while love, if you’re nervous about…”

“I haven’t been with someone for months, I mean I’m protected, I take the pill, I just…”

“I’m not usually impulsive, though the situation we are currently in may seem to say otherwise.” She pulled him against her, pressing her mouth to his. “Emma…”

“Dare…”

She felt his smirk against her mouth. “No more need for dare’s, love. Your heart’s desire, Swan. I promise, that’s all I want you to have.” His lips ghosted against hers.

“I need…” She whined, her voice sounding foreign to her, begging for something she couldn’t put into words.

“I’ve got you.” He pressed against her entrance, and she felt him slide between her folds, the tip of his cock sliding inside of her before pulling away. She moaned in frustration before he slid in again, filling her, stretching her, and then leaving her empty once more. He was driving her to oblivion with each tentative thrust.

She nipped at his lip with her teeth, sucking his bottom lip into her mouth, eliciting a groan from his mouth. His thrusts increased, his kiss becoming almost animalistic as his thrusts became harder, driving into her with each plunge. She could feel her walls tighten around him as she met him thrust for thrust as she arched against him, needing the friction the closeness gave to her.

She could feel it building inside of her again, teetering closer as Killian took her to the place she needed to be. “Let go…” His breath was hot against her ear as he drove into her, sending her over the edge as the string inside of her snapped.

“Killian…oh God…yes…” She screamed into the darkness as she heard her name against her ear over and over again in a beautiful whisper.

He rested his forehead against hers, as his breathing came out in shallow breathes. “That was….”

“An interesting development.” She laughed.

“Is interesting good or bad?” He asked as he rolled over onto his side.

“Honestly…”

“We’ve been playing truth’s all night, why would I want you to lie now?”

“I always found you to be kind of annoying.” She said shortly.

“Bloody hell, that’s not exactly…”

“But…” She teased, cutting him off. “Maybe I was just unable to see past your rugged good looks and boyish charm.”

“Swan, it’s bad form to attack a man simply because he’s devastatingly handsome, one might even say dashing, but I would hope that I have proven tonight that I’m no boy.” His lips grazed the corner of her mouth. She couldn’t stop the smile from growing on her face.

“I don’t know, I might need to see some more evidence.” As he pulled her onto his chest, she was sure that neither of them would be getting any sleep tonight.

~*~

Killian showered quickly when he heard the knock on the door. Breakfast was being served to all hotel guests, the power had returned shortly before they woke that morning. He wrapped the towel around his waist and entered the room. Emma smiled from the table, dressed only in one of his t-shirts. “Morning.” She grinned as he sat down across from her.

She pushed his plate toward him and then took a bite of her toast. “Someone’s chipper this morning.” He teased.

“It was all the orgasms.” She whispered seductively with a wink. Grabbing the bottle of rum, he watched as she poured a shot into his glass and slid it toward him. “Never have I ever had sex with the boss’s daughter.” He had no idea what she was talking about but stared at the glass. “Better drink up, you might need the courage to explain yourself when we get home.” She chuckled.

“I’ve never done that, love, I already told you, she was the boss’s wife.”

The phone rang and Killian caught a glimpse of David’s name on the screen before she answered. “Hello, Daddy…”

Shit.

[hopefulstarfire]

"Your Grandpa loved you more than we did" sounds like a horrible thing to say to a person growing up, but for me and my family this is an absolute joke and we know it.

For context, my Grandpa and I were best friends. We did everything together and he always watched over me like a hawk. And he loved all of us kids and grandkids dearly, tried to do everything he could to help us and provide for us.

He grew up on a homestead in the 40s and 50s in South Dakota. He went to school in a one room school house and, at one point, got snowed in for like either a month or 3 months, something to that effect, as it has been told to me. They lived off of tomato soup and peanut butter during that time and, from that point on, those are the only two foods in the world he would not eat ever again.

This is important to know.

Fast forward several decades. I'm about 4 or 5 years old. Grandpa's babysitting me while Mom and Grandma went out shopping. I, wanting to be a self sufficient and helpful kid, ask him, "Grandpa, are you hungry?"

He said yes, and that was a mistake.

Because, like most 4/5 year olds, my idea of making food was...creative to say the least. And I'm not talking about taking blades of grass and putting it in water to make soup. I'm talking like, I once made my Mom breakfast that consisted of vanilla pudding, frootloops, carrots and something else I don't remember. I was trying to make a smiley face, like how Mushu did on Mulan, and that was what I had I guess.

I was also the kid that was notorious for climbing to get up to anything that should have been out of my reach (good tactics to have, considering I ended up being short as fuck and still have to do so).

So I make him what I can only loosely define as a sandwich, but was actually more like some kind of war crime. Sure, it had bread and turkey and cheese and ham...but it also had froot loops, oreos, candy bars; literally, if it was in the house and I could get my tiny goblin hands on it, it went on that sandwich.

This man ate every last bite of that abomination. And when my rightfully horrified mom and grandma asked "Why?", he just shrugged and said "It all goes down the same place anyways."

Every time we reminiscenced about it, my Mom would tell me "Your Grandpa loved you more than we did." Because none of them would have eaten it and I don't blame them one bit, my Grandpa was just a different breed of man entirely. And Grandma and I still laugh about it because, yeah, no, he really had to have.

[a-southern-reader]

Chapter 2. Bouncer Jaune AU

“Oh please tell me!”

“No.” Said Jaune smiling and shaking his head in the campus cafeteria.

“Pretty please, I’ll let you beat me in Smash Bros.” Ruby stated like it was the best deal in the world.

“Then it’s not a true victory. Why do you even want to know?

“Well when your friend tells you they got a job you typically tend to ask where at.”

Jaune stopped his bite for his peanut butter sandwich halfway. “Well I can’t tell you because it’s a secret.” He said with a smirk.

“A regular secret or top secret?”

“Top secret.” As he said it with a smile.

“Dang it!” Ruby pouted, until Jaune gave her half of his sandwich. Which was promptly devoured in less than five seconds. “Still though working late hours is going to tire you some. You need to get good sleep if you want to keep your grades.”

Jaune turned and looked at her. “Really? This coming from the girl who stays up all night playing video games when her roommate isn’t there.”

“Hey I skipped a grade and because of that I get extra time to relax to make up for all that stress from the extra work.”

After Ruby and Jaune finished their lunch they decided to use the extra time to walk around on the campus grounds. “Why are you taking a job anyway, it’s not like you need the money?” Ruby questioned with her arms folded behind her head.

“Well I got a bunch a free time after my classes. You spend yours running for the cross country team. While I’m just doing nothing after I finish studying. Plus Sun works there so I’ll have a friend to hang out with.”

“Ah ha!” She shouted and jumped to look at him. “So Sun works there.” She accused to him. Jaune looks at the girl proud with her detective skills.

“Yes Sun works there, you got me.” He said with smile on his face.

She looks down at her watch, “Okay I got to go, I have practice in about half an hour. Good luck tonight!” She yelled already running towards the track.

It’s 2:50 and Jaune is walking to “Huntresses.” He stops in-front of a store to check himself out in the reflection of the glass. He makes sure his hair looks nice and he tucks his small black shirt in his pants. He wants to look decent not only for his boss, but to also show he’s taking his job seriously when facing people inside. Jaune finishes looking at himself in the glass and walks into the club.

“Ayyyyyye Jaune is here! Let’s get ready to party!” Yelled Sun in his DJ booth blasting music and showing off his dance moves.

“Hey Sun, why don’t you go dance on stage instead of the girls?” Yatsu asked while standing by the bar.

“Because Goodwitch knows that I would drive all the girls out of business!” Sun exclaimed while laughing.

Yatsu laughed at his joke as well and turned to look at Jaune as he walked up. “Hey I’m Yatsu, you must be the new guy.” He extended his hand out to shake. When Jaune reaches out to shake it he doesn’t even see his hand anymore because it got shallowed by his. Yatsu looks at Jaune and smiles, “Did Shade tell you to wear a shirt that was small to show off some muscles?”

“Yeah, I guess I’m just trying to get as much advice as possible. You got any to give?” Jaune asked.

“Yeah, try not to get a boner. It’s extremely awkward when you ask someone to get out with that pointing at them.” Yatsu jokes and gives a light punch on his shoulder. “Just stay close to me and I’ll show what all you’re suppose to do.”

It’s 4:30 and guys start coming into the club. “Shade is the guy checking who gets in. Our job is to look around and stop a problem before it happens. Especially if a guy starts getting too handsy with one of the girls.” Yatsu explained to Jaune.

“Alright gentlemen it’s time for your hot stepmom dreams to finally come true. Let’s welcome Momma Manlte!” Sun said on his microphone over the whoops and cheers.

Jaune watched as the dancer walked out from behind the curtains. He started to believe maybe Yatsu’s advice wasn’t entirely a joke. She had a red top and bottom that really show off her mature body. Her boobs looked like they wanted to burst out of her top.

“She makes a killer casserole.” Jaune snaps out of it and looks and Yatsu. “I’m serious, she had some leftover casserole she made and gave it to me.” He explained.

Jaune tried to not get distracted by the show and just looked around watching out for trouble. The woman was fine, all the guys who were close to her were just slipping dollars inside of her tong. He looked at the bar, nobody causing any trouble over there.

“Jaune relax some it’s early. Nobody is going to cause a scene the second they get in here. Just walk around some and stretch your legs.”

He takes his advice and starts to wonder around, but is still keeping an eye on everyone. Every now and then he does look at the woman dancing on stage. Shes rolling her hips around, getting on her hands and knees so guys can look down her cleavage. Near the end she stands up and one of hers arms wraps around her chest. Her other one goes to the back of her bra and unclasps it. She grabs an end and slings it over her shoulder without exposing her chest, only teasing the men with the possibility of it. She walks away swaying her hips, but just before she disappears behind the curtains she stops and looks in Jaune’s direction. She flashes him and all the men groan wondering who got to be the lucky man who saw her rack when she walked away.

“She’s likes you that’s for sure.” Jaune turns around and sees it’s the bartender. “The names Neptune, and you are a lucky son of a bitch. Momma Mantle doesn’t just let anyone see her assets like that.”

“She doesn’t just do that for all the new guys?”

“If that was the case people would be applying for jobs twenty four seven!” He joked.

As time went by Jaune was more relaxed and was just leaning against the wall and doing a little search every now and then. He assumed maybe that casserole dancer told all the girls back stage that there was a new guy that she liked. Because every once in a while a girl would be dancing and send a wink in Jaune’s direction. One thing he likes about his job for sure is Sun’s creative introduction for all the girls.

“Hide your wallet and heart because this girl will steal them both. Here comes Princess Bandit!” As a tomboyish girl with a tattoo walks out with a “I can kick your ass attitude.”

“She maybe small, but remember dynamite comes in small packages. Plus her hair reminds us of that sweet Neapolitan ice cream. Let’s give it up for Chocolate Strawberry!” That girl was short, but her bust and bottom did more than accommodate for that.

Before Jaune knew it the last dancer was coming up. “Alright everyone it’s getting close to closing time, but one girl came in last minute to provide our final show. You all know her, you all love her. It’s the Ice Queen!”

Jaune looked at the stage as she came out. The name Ice Queen really nailed her appearance. Her white hair was a obvious reason why it was picked, but it only scratched the surface of it. Her outfit didn’t match the color of her hair, instead it was a light blue. Her skin was pale, but not in that sickly way. It was like pure snow in winter and her outfit’s color really contrasted with it making it stand out with her pale skin. She walked with an air of elegance around her that made you pay attention. They way she danced on stage and swinging around the pole was like a ballerina. Heck that’s what Jaune felt like he was watching. Not watching a sexy girl exposing herself to get some money, but a beautiful ballerina putting on a show that memorizes the audience.

“Hey man you there?” Yatsu asked Jaune while  nudging him. “We got to make sure that everyone leaves man. Don’t worry the girls will still be here when you come back.”

He didn’t want to leave, he continued to watch Ice Queen as she returned to back stage. He would throw some money out if it meant he could still watch her dance.

Once the club closed Sun and Jaune got out and started walking back to campus. “So what you think man? Easy job, rocking music, and you get to watch all those women dancing for free!”

“Yeah it sure was something, so a couple of them go to our university right?”

“Well yeah, a couple of those girls are around our age so it would make sense. But don’t think I didn’t notice it man.” Sun smirking at him as he said it.

“Notice what?”

“Dude! That Mantle Lady, she full on flashed you man. Do you realize how much money people throw at her to get a glimpse of them, and on your first day she just lets you see them!”

“Maybe if you show her your dance moves she’ll show you her goodies.” Jaune said laughing with Sun.

That’s the second part! I kept on walking up during the night until I said screw it and just started to write something. It started small until it just snowballed into this.

For those who may not know “Princess Bandit” is Vernal. Because Vernal deserves more love dang it!

[maybe-theres-hope]

Of Will and Wildflowers, Part 3 (Final)

It’s here! Thank you so much to everyone who encouraged me: @oquinn53, @reyeslonestar, @howtosingit, @a-l-ias, @mtnofgrace, @descending-into-the-crazies @pragmaticoptimist34 if I forgot anyone please let me know! 

Special thanks to my husband for reading this and making sure all my typos were gone :)

Tarlos | period drama/grudging acquaintances to lovers | Part 3/3 | This part: 10,877w | Total: 33,427w

Part 1 | Part 2

Read on AO3

Mr. Strand,

I hope this letter finds you well, and that your journey home was swift and uneventful. The entire house has been mourning yours and father’s departure since you left us. Mamà is convinced the lights are dimmer without the ambience of your father’s amusing anecdotes. 

Elena has been lamenting the fullness of the house as well. She is easily bored without some new distraction every fortnight, but she swears she will convince you to visit again someday. I dare say we all will thank her if she can manage it.

In deference to our conversation, I will not try. I know you would not appreciate my needling. 

Raquel cannot be bothered with the mundane occurrence of the comings and goings of visitors while she daydreams of castles and knights, so her opinion has not been asked. She still insists on helping Mrs. Smith in the kitchen, and Mamà still insists on having fits about it. 

I must agree with my sister and mother, however. The house is a little less bright these days. Usually we can count upon sunlight and laughter to get us through the day, but those seem fleeting of late. 

Flor misses you as well. She’s ornery when I ride her, as if she remembers a more beloved companion and I do not measure up. We lament your departure together when we meander the grounds. 

Jimena is not often in the stable, so her opinion has not been ascertained either. 

But enough of our melancholy!

How is it to be home? Travel can make us all weary, and you seemed so tired even before you set off. I hope you are feeling better in your own comfortable surroundings. Texas will always welcome you, but I know how good it is to feel your own dirt under your shoes. Please tell me something joyful, so that I can remember your face in gladness.

Your friend,

Christina Reyes

My dear friend,

As I sit beside the fire tonight, I am reminded of our last conversation. I am evermore grateful that you are taking on the no doubt immense burden of being my confidant while keeping our correspondence regarding these matters private from your family. Do not mistake me, if you at any time feel as though your obligation to me is taking precedent over your cherished feelings of love toward your family, please by all means give me but a word and I will cease my incessant pining.

Oh how I pine, dear Christina. There is not a day that goes by that I don’t think of the sound of rolling grass and smell wildflowers where there are none to be found. The city is bleak these days, and dark. What once was a welcome cacophony of life and commerce is now to me a teeming mass of sensation that I can barely stand for more than a moment. I long to feel the shift of earth under Flor’s hooves again, and for the caress of the soft breeze against my cheeks. 

But enough of that for now. You asked in your letter for something joyful. My father has secured a deal with a contractor out West, and his—our line will stretch right to the Pacific, culminating at the coast. A fully developed coast to coast line, my father’s dream. It makes me so happy to see him so elated when he talks of it, and of me taking over it in time. I do not like to talk of him being gone, but it is inevitable he says. Men grow old, and pass on. He says what matters most is that we make a mark on the world we can be proud of, and that we touch people in ways that matter. 

I cannot help but think that I have done neither. 

I apologize again for my melancholy. When I sit to write to you I never intend to make you sad. Please, rejoice for my father and his accomplishments, for they reflect on me as well. I will take comfort in his happiness, and you can take comfort in my feeling it. That is enough for now. 

Your friend,

TK Strand

TK,

I must address the most pressing concern from your letter immediately. You have touched us all, please know that. Please do not think you have not made a mark on the world, for our home would not have been the bright happy place it was while you were here without you to provide that light. Every day is a little darker, as I’ve said before, without you and your father in our midst. 

Everyone is a little darker. Especially my brot

But enough of melancholy, as you said. I am delighted to hear of your father’s immense accomplishment. We are all so proud to be a part of it, a part of the future. I shall like to make the journey coast-to-coast someday on it, to me that would be such a wondrous thing! 

I was wondering, would you tell me what Manhattan is like? I do admit I’ve only ever thought of it as bleak and loud and harsh, but surely folk as amiable as yourself and your father cannot come from such harshness. So please, tell me an anecdote of your days since you’ve returned. I’d love to hear of anything joyful. It would provide a balm to the monotony of country life. 

Thinking of you always,

Christina Reyes

Dearest Christina,

Thank you for saying such kind things. I’ve always felt as if I were on the periphery of life. I’ve skated through it mostly by way of parties and luncheons with people who have little to talk about other than themselves. I’m just now getting to a point in my life where I do want to make a mark on the world. I know I can do that partially when I inherit my father’s legacy, and I intend to do it the utmost justice. But I find myself adrift in that I do have family and friends who love me, however…I do not have a love that speaks my heart’s language. A love that is built of trust and companionship and intimacy. 

Please do not chide me for saying such things, we are friends and I feel I can talk about these delicate subjects with dignity. I thank you for your discretion. 

But yes, as it stands, I have made no such mark on the world, have no such intimacy with which to grow old. I feel that the things we do in life do have a way of defining us, but they are far overshadowed by the people we choose to love. 

In the past, I have chosen poorly, through no one’s fault but my own. I hope one day I can remedy that. But right now I feel, as I said, adrift. There is no one to hold me fast to the world, no one strive to do well for, after my father is gone. And I fear I may never have, as I have ceased looking. I cannot bear it at this moment. 

Forgive me, my dearest friend, I have ignored your other request until now. Manhattan is much as it always is, loud and harsh, as you said. But most days it is a good distraction to hear the hustle and bustle outside my window. I do miss the Park and the promenade, but  lately I haven’t felt well enough to venture out. I keep to my father’s study in our townhouse in Midtown while he visits the office near Gramercy and keeps me informed. 

As I haven’t got a joyful anecdote from the days since our return, I will relate to you one from the past that is near and dear to my heart. When I was a young boy of about ten, my mother—God rest her soul—took me to the waterfront one day when my father was stolen from us with work. We gazed out over the Hudson, and even in my young age I tried to imagine that, just across the water, began the vastness of the North American continent. I used to try and picture what the land was like, what exotic treasures it held. I had never been anywhere, though my father had been to Chicago and Philadelphia numerous times. 

I used to picture rolling hills, vast grasslands, and roaming livestock. I had been told most of the rest of the States consisted of farmland. I had never actually seen a bovine in person, but I had seen drawings. I childishly thought of it as one big zoo where all the animals roamed free, and the air always smelled crisp and clean. I imagined it was beautiful.

Funny thing is, I know now that that little boy of ten was at least partially right, at least about one particular place among that vastness. 

I hope I have made you joyous,

TK Strand

My dear friend,

Your letter has made me joyous, in some ways. I wish you could have seen our home with childlike eyes, but alas I think it was better suited to you as you are now, and I’m glad you have experienced it and that it was to your liking. It truly means the world that you think of it as beautiful.

However, I have cause for concern where you have mentioned you have not been out, that you are unwell. Pray, please let me know how you get on, we all worry over you so. I happened to mention that excerpt of your letter at dinner, and I fear I may have incited a frenzy. I am humbly asked by my siblings to enquire after your health. Please tell us what ails you, so we can worry properly, and send up our prayers. I know we cannot do a thing for you, as far apart as we are now, but you are always in our hearts. 

Mamà tells us that our business with your father is nearly finalized. I look forward to a ride on the line, hopefully with you as my guide. I must make the journey near winter, for I long to see snow. I’ve hitherto only read about it in books, a delicate powder that falls from the sky and blankets the world in white. How marvelous a sight must it be! 

Be well,

Christina Reyes

Dear Christina,

As for your family, please tell them I am alright. I did not wish to frighten them or you, and I’m sorry for that. Please trust that our cook keeps me well with sandwiches and fruits when I am able to eat them. Everything is well when father is around to take up my time with business discussion, and as I said I am well distracted most days by the cacophony of the city outside. 

I will venture out soon, I think, as my friends and acquaintances grow weary of my absence and I have left them all to their own devices for quite long enough, I suspect. I presume to know what they will want to discuss—an incident that took place just before our trip to Texas—it will be a drain on me to talk about it regardless. But I cannot put them off forever, I love them too much to deny them my company when they wish for it. Perhaps I’ll take a walk with one of them tomorrow, even if the air of the city is not nearly so keen and invigorating as the air of the country I have run from.

Please give my best to your family, I hope I have not caused anyone undue grief. I will only talk of happy things from here on out, when I eventually find them. 

With affection,

TK Strand

P.S. I believe you know deep down what truly ails me, so I’ll not speak of it further lest I lose all dignity. 

*

Mr. Michaels, the butler, stopped TK on his way to the dining room, handing him a card on a tray. He read it and smiled. “Miss Marwani called on you earlier, I told her you hadn’t yet come down. She left her card.”

“Thank you, Michaels. Will you send her a message that I’ll be free after luncheon today? I know it’s been so very long since I’ve made time to see her.”

“Yes, my lord. I dare say all your friends and acquaintances have been calling on us nonstop since your return home. But I trust it’ll take you a moment to get back into the swing of things after…your trip.” 

TK smiled sadly. He knew what the butler was going to say before amending it. He’d been an absolute wreck after finding Alexander and the footman and had left for Texas only two days later. The entirety of the household and all of his friends must think he’s still in a melancholy state because of the slight. 

If only they knew the truth. He might tell some of them, but only a select few he could trust. Michaels was a good man, and hadn’t overstepped. He’d practically raised TK since his father was so busy with the rail when he was younger. He knew the man was only looking out for his happiness. 

“Michaels?” he said before turning to go on to the dining room for breakfast.

“Yes, my lord?”

“If you were faced with a time limit on a decision that governed your whole life, would you wait until you’d found the right solution? Or would you take the first viable solution to come along?”

TK knew that Michaels knew exactly what he was talking about, but was too polite to call attention to that fact. “I think if it were me, I’d examine every detail of each choice before deciding on the one most beneficial to my life in the long run. After all, some decisions are for a lifetime.” With this, he gave a small reproachful smile to his once young charge.

“Yes, well. What would you do if you’d found the right solution, but it turned out to be impossible?” TK’s eyes looked up in earnest at the butler, whose expression had turned kind and commiserating.

“I do hope you don’t think you’d found the right solution to this problem just before your departure?” It was obvious Michaels thought Alexander was far below TK even before the scandalous tryst was revealed. 

“No, no. Nothing like that,” TK reassured. He was pensive for a moment, caught in his thoughts of rolling pasture and wildflowers, their scent dancing across his senses even from miles away. “I thought I had found the right avenue during my time away. It seemed a nice thing, a wonderful thing actually. I daresay my hopes were quite built up for a time. But in the end it proved, as I said, impossible.”

Michaels gazed at his young master for a moment, unmistakable pity in his eyes, but TK didn’t comment on it. He was too miserable. 

“I hold the utmost confidence that the right choice is out there for you. But, my lord, you will never find it unless you leave this house eventually. I am glad you’ve decided to start breakfasting in the dining room again, and I know that if you do go out later today your color might begin to return. I worry for you, my lord. I hope I am not impertinent to say so.”

“No, no Michaels. You’re not impertinent. I know I’ve been ghastly to be around these last few weeks, and I do hope to remedy that. To begin…moving toward the future, no matter how much I wish I knew its contents.” TK gave the butler a sad smile before turning away again, the weight of all he wished for still on his shoulders and bright, luminous brown eyes on his mind, no matter how much he wished they’d fade.

*

“I know you’re still mourning Alexander and his licentious ways, but I promise you, you can do much better. His family isn’t even that well connected! He’ll be a faint stain on your past and nothing more.”

TK looked over at his friend, the navy ribbon on her silk evening bonnet getting caught by the light breeze weaving through the Park. Her dark eyes held an intense shine as they often did when she went on a tirade. He let himself smile at her ability to be both vicious and diplomatic.

“Marjan,” he chided gently, “his family owns three quarters of the orange trees in the country! I wouldn’t say he’s not well connected. Half of Florida bears his family name in some capacity.”

“Oh, to hell with that,” she spit delicately. TK was also impressed by her proficiency in cursing with a velvet tongue. “Then he should be sent off to oversee them. Rid this city of his stupidity. Even further! Florida is too close, send him to the West Coast! Let him disappear. Society will be all the better for it, mark my words."

TK was brought up short by the mere mention of the opposite coast, since thoughts of that region gave in to thoughts of a certain eligible bachelor which gave in to thoughts of his intended that TK desperately wished was his own intended and—

It must have shown on his face.

“TK, my friend, trust me. He is nothing of consequence.” Her voice had turned gentle again, not the outrage on his behalf she’d been spouting for the past few minutes. TK could not help connecting her statement with his thoughts, even if she was off the mark at the moment. 

“I know that. It’s not him that unsettles me; he is firmly in my past and I shall not revisit my temporary lapse of judgement in giving him even a small parcel of my affection.” He patted her hand that rested in the crook of his arm as they walked leisurely around a small fountain, the sound of bubbling water serving to soothe his psyche for the time being.

She was silent for a moment before she tugged them to a pause on a semi-crowded knoll. “Then, pray tell, what has you so blue? Ever since you returned from the South you’ve been distant. I thought at first it was just lethargy left over from the long journey, but it has been over two months! I fear I shall never see you smile again as before. Please tell me what troubles you? Is it your father?”

Marjan was a close friend, and as such, she was privy to some news about his father’s health. The man wasn’t in immediate danger, but TK had confided in Marjan that his father had taken to being more…forceful in his demands that TK take a more active role in the business. He had a persistent cough but no fever as of yet. The doctors did what they could to alleviate the annoying ailment—as his father called it—but they all knew Owen Strand was beginning the downslope of his life. At nearly fifty years of age, he was nearing the last stretch of life expectancy and sometimes TK could see it plain on his father’s face. It made him apprehensive for the future, not to mention the fact that still stood: he had to marry before he could take over the business. 

And that thought brought him back around to his other melancholy. For if the desired recipient of his affection would return said affection, he’d be happily married yesterday. But alas, it was not to be. 

He dreaded a letter from Christina detailing an engagement. He knew it was coming soon, and he’d tried to resign himself to it. Perhaps she wouldn’t even tell him. After all, he’d asked as much of her. Nothing of Carlos, none at all; that had been his request. 

“It is, partially, my father’s health that concerns me,” he said as he came out of his thoughts and back into the conversation at hand. “However I…”

“What is it?” Marjan asked when he refused to speak further after trailing off into silence. “What makes your heart ache so? I can see it in your eyes that it is your heart that is broken. If it was not Alexander, then who?”

Trust Marjan to read him like a book. 

“I met someone. In Texas. Oh, Marjan—“ he paused a moment and could not help a smile crawling across his features at the thought of his week spent in bliss, before it all came crumbling down. “He is the most wonderful, kind, and beautiful creature I have ever met. At first I thought him a cad, as our first meeting was less than cordial. But upon learning why he felt as he did, I was persuaded to understand and to admire his candor. He spoke of his home with love and deference, and it was such a treasure to be shown the land with such a companion.”

He closed his eyes for a moment and pictured the apple orchard. Marjan caught his flush and smiled.

“And so? When shall we expect an announcement?”

TK’s smile quickly dimmed to a grimace, now tasked with completing the story.

“An announcement will not come, I’m afraid. He is betrothed to another. I found out on our second to last night in Austin, and I must confess I did not handle it well. I made a complete fool of myself and I’d like to never repeat it by seeing him again.”

“Wait, he did not tell you he was spoken for? And he courted you just the same and let you think you had a chance?” Her voice was angry and TK sought to soothe it with the truth.

“Truthfully, he never actually courted me. We were thrust together by circumstance, and he was a perfect gentleman throughout. It was I who read too much into each interaction, each conversation, each dance held in his arms. It was I who was a complete fool to let my feelings show on my face to all his family when they all knew nothing would ever come of it. I feel so stupid, Marjan. I practically begged father to cut the trip short. But…” he paused again, thinking of the dust kicking up behind Jimena’s hooves as Carlos rode out to meet their carriage after they’d already set off. The small bud of Indian Paintbrush was still blooming in a jar of water next to his bed. 

“But?” She prompted. 

“There were some moments where…where I could swear that he…but it was obviously a trick of my imagination. His betrothed is a marvelous gentleman, beloved by all, and he would be a fool not to accept an eventual proposal. As I said, it is well and truly over and out of the question that my pursuit would yield any happiness.” 

Marjan was silent while they resumed their walk, her hand steady in the crook of his arm. Eventually, she spoke softly. “Well, I must admit I am glad this melancholy is not on Alexander’s account, but I also must admit I am saddened by this turn of events. I know you to be a perfect gentleman, and I have always wished you could find someone as wonderful as you to share your life with. I know you’ll do great things and I know you want someone to share those triumphs with. If this man is who you feel is perfect for you, why not fight for him? It is not in your nature to give up so easily.”

“That’s just it, Marjan. He is perfect, and honorable. Which is why I could not jeopardize his honor by asking him to abandon a promise he made before he met me. I would never forgive myself if his good name was tarnished.”

They walked in silence until the end of the lane, where they turned to leave the Park and hail a carriage back to Marjan’s home up the avenue. 

*

When TK returned home later in the evening, Michaels stopped him in the entryway and held out a tray. “This came for you while you were out, my lord.”

TK took the proffered package and stared at it in confusion. The return address from from Christina, but usually all she sent were letters. This parcel was still small, the shape of a single letter, but thicker. It weighed little, giving no clue as to its contents.

“Thank you, Michaels. Is dinner set already? Do I have time to change?”

“You should, my lord. I shall call for you in about half an hour. Your father is in the parlor already, if you wish to check in with him, now you’re home.”

“Was he missing me? Did he need something?” TK wondered, a little worried. 

Michaels smiled. “No, my lord. He was actually quite content all day, and was happy that you’d gone to call on Miss Marwani. I only say to check in because he probably hopes to hear how happy a time you had.”

TK smiled sadly. He knew he was worrying his father with his refusal to leave his own rooms for the past weeks. It saddened him further that he could have possibly made his father’s condition worse by stressing him. He vowed to himself to make a better effort to get back into real life sooner rather than later. After all, as he’d told Marjan earlier, there was nothing to be done about…Mr. Reyes. That was well and truly over, in fact it had never begun. There was no reason to pine after a man who did not do the same for him. TK was worth more than that.

Yes, he must convince himself of that, and quickly. 

“Alright, Michaels. I’ll change quickly and meet him. Thank you,” he said with a small nod. Turning to ascend the stairs, he started to unwrap the small, delicate parcel Christina had sent. As he entered his rooms, his efforts revealed that there was, in fact, a letter inside. However it was nestled atop a small folded square of cloth, delicate and airy and fine. 

Setting the letter aside for the moment, he unfolded the fabric to reveal that it was a handkerchief, finely made and embroidered in bright colored thread. The edges were a gleaming yellow, reminding him of sunlight. On one corner, no bigger than his thumb, was the most intricate rendition of a yellow wildflower—he recognized it almost instantly. 

He moved to sit on the nearest surface, which happened to be the edge of his bed. The pads of his fingers caressed the tiny design reverently, as if touching it would somehow unravel all the thread that comprised it. As if by acknowledging that it was there, it was already in danger of disappearing. There was no doubt of the reference used—he had seen so many of those little yellow blossoms on his journey around the Reyes ranch. The breath left his body as his mind’s eye conjured a bright smile and the smell of clean sweetness on the air. 

After he’d regained some of his composure, he picked up the letter. It was shorter than most of her other letters, which stood to reason as he’d just received her last one a few days ago and he’d yet to answer it. She must have sent this just behind her previous one. 

Beloved TK,

I hope you are well. I know I have just posted a letter to you two days ago, but I saw this in a shop window and immediately thought of you. I know how you enjoyed the wildflowers around our home, and I wished for you to have a reminder of them—especially one less prone to wilting than the genuine article. 

You are always in my our thoughts, and I wished to keep us in yours. Please, think of Austin when you hold this token, and know that you are so dearly missed. 

Yours in heart,

Christina Reyes

TK stared. It seemed as though the letter had been written in some sort of haste, as it was unusual for Christina’s hand. The letters were slightly more slanted, and the spaces between paragraphs larger than her delicate way. Even her signature was off, as if it had been written by a proxy. And the contents…she’d never called him a beloved friend before. Well, no, it wasn’t even friend. It was just “beloved”. 

He wondered if she was growing melancholy herself for some unknown reason. The letter seemed sincere, but heavier than her usual correspondence, as if she was feeling his absence more acutely in this instance. 

Furthermore, he wasn’t sure he’d told her about what the wildflowers meant to him. He’d thought that was something he and Mr. Reyes had shared between themselves for the short time they’d been acquainted. But perhaps her brother had recited a few of their outings to her, and remarked on TK’s fascination with the surrounding flora of the country. 

Perhaps. 

He concluded that the whole parcel was a product of a hastily made decision when she’d seen the handkerchief in the window, and the oddities contained within the letter were the result of her haste to get it posted while she was still in town that same day. 

He gently tucked the gift into a box next to his bed, giving it one last longing stare before closing the lid and beginning to dress for dinner. 

*

“We’ve had a letter from the Doña,” his father said over luncheon a few days later as he perused said letter which Michaels had handed to him upon their arrival in the dining room. “It seems her agent agrees to our terms, and they are sending a liaison with the documents to finalize.” He set the page down on the table and picked up his glass of port. “I do believe we are almost settled with the entirety of the preparations, and we can begin construction early next year!”

“That’s wonderful news, father,” TK said quietly, his tone not matching his words. He was looking down at his plate with no intention of picking up his fork, so he missed his father’s knowing and saddened expression. 

“It is. Another piece of news that I’ve gathered from earlier today, is that the Vanderbilts are throwing a ball tomorrow night. Well, I suppose Mrs. Vanderbilt is, at any rate, and Mr. Strickland asks if you can accompany him.”

“I don’t know, father. I’m not sure I’m feeling well enough to socialize on such a scale. I’ll be a bore to everyone there and then you will have to answer for my behavior.” 

“I don’t think you’d be a bore to Mr. Strickland, surely. He’s been asking after you these last few weeks. I daresay he plans to eventually kidnap you from your rooms if you do not answer his calls. Surely he’ll want to hear how you’re getting on?” His father’s transparency was apparent, but TK did not call him out on it. 

“I don’t know, father. I’m not quite well at the moment so I probably shouldn’t be gallivanting about at parties.”

“You are unwell because you refuse to eat or see sunlight,” Owen said, not unkindly. His next words were suffused with affection and it only made TK’s heart ache more. “My son, I worry for you. The whole household does. Mrs. Talbot says you only ate half the small sandwich she brought you last night. And you haven’t touched your soup yet since we’ve sat down. I worry you’ll be skin and bones before long.” His words weren’t scolding, only concerned.

“I’m sorry to worry you, father, and the servants. I just find it…difficult to keep anything down. It all tastes like ash, and I know that description would never do Mrs. Talbot’s cooking justice.” At this, he made a gamely attempt to sip a spoonful of soup, and found his assessments confirmed. He swallowed anyway, and kept the grimace off his face with great effort. 

“Tyler,” his father said in that affectionate tone once more, “You must try to move past your heartbreak. I know that’s what it is,” he said as TK made to interrupt him, “I know it when I look at your face and see only sadness. I know it when I hear from Michaels that you have not descended the stairs all day while I’ve been at the office. I know it because that single flower is still thriving at your bedside.” At this, he had the decency to look only slightly chagrined. TK said nothing.

“I looked in on you a few nights ago. You didn’t come down to dinner and I was worried you’d gone hungry again. Your sleep looked restless. I also noticed a letter from Miss Christina.”

“You went through my things?” TK said without any real malice. He knew his father meant well but he had put a lot of private thoughts into those letters and Christina had answered them in kind. 

“I only ascertained that she wishes to see snow. You should take her up on her request to ride the line once it is finished. I know she would love to see you again. And maybe by then, it will be less painful for you.” Owen’s face was drawn. 

“Maybe, in a year or two. For now I am content with her letters.”

“What does she write of her brother?” his father asked.

“Nothing, because I asked her not to,” TK replied. He again missed his father’s pained expression of concern as he took another forced sip of his soup from his spoon. His hand trembled slightly at the most direct mention of Carlos since his talk with Marjan earlier in the week. 

Owen seemed to take this answer as a plea to end the subject of conversation. He simply watched his son silently, wishing he could help ease his pain and knowing he was unable.

*

“Mr. Cartwright has not stopped staring in this direction since we sat down,” Paul remarked over the swell of the music, another quadrille beginning causing cheers and the shuffle of feet to the dance floor. 

“Perhaps he’s trying to figure out a way to ask you to dance,” TK answered as he sipped his brandy. Paul was a dear friend, and he was happy to be in his company, he just wished it didn’t have to be surrounded by laughing couples and a revelry he felt entirely apart from. 

His friend gave him an incredulous look. “Are you serious? He’s been shamelessly staring at you,” Paul countered. “He’s practically mapped out every thread in your coat, the cad.” 

“I doubt that. No amiable gentleman would give me a second glance as I look now. Maybe a few months ago, but not now. I’m well aware the color in my cheeks and the bulk of my frame have left me. The servants, my father, you, and Marjan remind me every day of that. How could I be any object of desire?”

It had been a full week since his first venture out of the house with Marjan—and nearly three months since his return from Texas—and TK was trying for his friends’ sake to get back out into the world. Hence accepting the invitation to a ball at the home of some debutante or another of their set, with Paul as his moral support should he feel the need to flee the social setting at his earliest convenience. TK was still trying to get used to other people around him being so happy and carefree when he himself wished to crawl into his bed and remain there until the second coming. 

He knew full well that his behavior wasn’t healthy. He’d made the decision himself to try and get past his heartbreak, lest it cripple him forever which definitely could not happen if he wanted to give his father any peace of mind. 

“My friend,” Paul chided kindly, “you’ve always been a vision, sought after by many a connected suitor. You haven’t lost your appeal I can promise you. We harp on your well-being because we care about how you’re feeling on the inside, and the outside is a good testament to that. I dare say it’s made you more desirable, at least to those who’ve mourned your absence since your trip, that you’ve stayed away. It inflates the intrigue.” He gave a small chuckle that TK tried to match. 

“Well I’m afraid Mr. Cartwright will have to find another object of desire. I do not believe I could content anyone as a courting partner as of now. I need a bit more time to settle back in, I think.” That was as diplomatic as TK could be about it. The reality was that he’d still been unable to remove thoughts of Mr. Reyes from his mind, and it grew more difficult every day. He absentmindedly reached into his jacket pocket and rubbed the delicate fabric of the handkerchief between his fingers, feeling the bumps and valleys of the embroidery, and almost smelling the sweet scent of the country in the air. 

He hadn’t noticed he’d closed his eyes until he felt a brush of air next to his face as a reveler approached their table. 

“Hello, Mr. Strand,” Mr. Cartwright beamed. It seemed he’d worked up the courage to approach after all. 

“Good evening. Are you enjoying the festivities?” He answered, attempting cordiality. 

“Of course. And yourself, Mr. Strand? Wouldn’t you better enjoy things in their midst than here on the periphery? Fancy a dance on the next waltz?” The man sounded so eager that TK almost obliged. But his honor would not let him lead the man on. 

“I’m afraid I’ve quite exhausted myself already,” he said, even though all he’d done was make one round and plop himself into his current seat since arriving. “I do apologize for being unavailable, but I’m sure there is someone else dying to catch your hand for a waltz. Please let me do them the favor of leaving you available.” 

It was almost comical the way the man’s face fell, but TK was not in danger of showing any glee at it on his face. He understood far to well the melancholy of unrequited affection. But alas, he could not feign interest at the moment, so he let the man trudge away with only a bit of guilt. 

“He’ll get over it,” he said when he caught Paul’s glance. 

“But will you?” It was clear he wasn’t talking about Mr. Cartwright.

TK didn’t answer. He could not. 

*

The day of the arrival of the Doña’s liaison dawned and once again TK could barely face the sunlight. He wished with all his heart that he could place the blame on too much of the good-natured debauchery that plagued his set when they got into their drinks, but he knew he could not. He’d barely partaken in a full glass of brandy with his father after dinner the night before. 

He felt some guilt at not hurrying down to meet the man at his father’s side, as would be expected of an only son in position to run his father’s business someday, but could barely bring himself to nibble at the scones Mrs. Talbot had sent up the night before.

Sooner or later, however, he knew he must face the day. He finally got himself dressed near luncheon time, deeming his appearance presentable enough for a middle manager he’d never meet again. 

He straightened his collar and pulled his lapels taut just before Michaels announced him upon entering the parlor. As he surveyed the scene before him, his stride halted, all breath left his lungs, and the color drained from his face. 

Seated on the settee across from his father and wearing the most disarmingly beautiful smile, eyes dancing in the sunlight filtering in through the damask curtains, was Carlos Reyes. 

The man had clearly just been given some wonderful news, though TK couldn’t imagine what his own father could have told him to elicit such a response, but it was plain on his face that he’d just been told something truly delightful. However, when his eyes strayed to the entrance to the room upon Michaels announcing TK’s presence, the smile on his face faded slowly to a deep concern. TK didn’t miss the subtle perusal of his person, Carlos looking over his face with a slight furrow of his brow that grew deeper the longer TK stood there dumbfounded. 

Mr. Reyes, of course, was the first to remember his manners, though his employment of them seemed over the top to TK. He’d jumped up and nearly ran over to TK, taking his elbow in hand ever so gently as if the touch was nothing. As if it didn’t send TK’s whole world tilting. 

“Mr. Strand! I…please, sit. Should I fetch some water? You look like you’ll be ill any moment…” He sounded almost…afraid. Not disgusted and annoyed as TK thought he might have been upon their next meeting. After all, TK was the one who’d made a fool of himself by pining like an imbecile in front of the Reyes’ family and friends. He could only imagine how much Mr. Reyes regretted their time together, now that he’d had a few months to ponder it. 

“I’m alright, Mr. Reyes, thank you,” TK managed to croak out as the man ushered him to a chair across the room, seemingly careful as not to touch him. 

He must be master of himself! This was almost more embarrassing than what had initially transpired between them in Texas. “I…hadn’t known that you’d be coming as your mother’s agent. I was only…surprised to see you. Here.” He forced his lips to stop moving.

Mr. Reyes’ face had yet to lose it’s pinched brow and shining eyes. What TK had initially catalogued as fear now looked like…concern. But that was impossible. Only, maybe not, since Mr. Reyes was a quite honorable and sensible man, and TK knew he looked gaunt and lifeless on his best days lately.

Turning to look at his father, TK only noticed that he too was focused on Mr. Reyes, and TK couldn’t quite place his expression. He’d been smiling as well when TK entered, and now he seemed a bit subdued but no less mirthful. It was an odd juxtaposition. Just then, he turned to his son and gave him a gentle smile.

“Well, I must be off. Quite a bit to get finalized with the documents you’ve brought me.” He stood and offered a hand to Mr. Reyes. “How long did you say you’d be in the city?”

“A few days, sir. I had hoped…well, my mother wishes me to return with everything in order,” he answered cryptically as they shook. His face was hopeful though TK couldn’t think why. They had pretty well come to a mutually beneficial agreement through correspondence. The rest was simply formality at this point. He couldn’t think what else would need to be settled. 

“I’m sure she does,” Owen said with a smile and another odd look at TK. He could not figure what to make of the exchange, but truth be told he was still reeling from Carlos—Mr. Reyes, he reminded himself—being in his home so unexpectedly. 

His father was turning to him next. “Tyler, would you be a gentleman and show Mr. Reyes about for a bit? I’m sure he’d like to stretch his legs after his long journey. You could take a taxi to the Park?”

TK fought the urge to gape at his father. He expected them to be…alone? What would they even discuss? TK wished the Turkish rug’s threads would open up and sew him into the floor. 

He was however, as his father said, a gentleman, and he could not let his manners slip no matter how much he wished to be anywhere but alone in the confines of a taxi and then in the beautiful intimacy of the Park at dusk with Carlos Reyes. 

“Of course, father. It would be my pleasure.” Somehow the words left his lips without a tremble. Or so he hoped. He did not think his father could be so cruel, knowing TK’s heart. 

Mr. Reyes looked half ecstatic and half terrified. TK could relate whole-heartedly. 

As Owen bid them good night and made to ascend the stairs to his study, TK slowly turned to look at his circumstantial companion. Here they were once again, thrust into each other. TK thought back to that first morning they’d toured the ranch together; Mr. Reyes had been cordial, despite their initial meeting and his own hesitation about the Strand’s business with his family. He’d been courteous and knowledgable about the land, wishing to give TK a good impression which TK in turn appreciated. 

He vowed to himself he would attempt to do the same when showing Mr. Reyes his own home. 

With somewhat renewed countenance, TK took a breath. “Well, shall we, Mr. Reyes?” His voice barely shook. The man in question gave him a fond smile that melted TK’s very soul.

“Lead the way, Mr. Strand.”

*

The taxi ride proved to undo all of TK’s borrowed confidence. Sitting so close their knees brushed reminded him of riding through the apple orchard, which in turn reminded him of Carlos’ hand in his, which set his heart fluttering and mind whirling, which led to an awkward silence the likes of which TK never wanted to experience again. Mr. Reyes was waiting for him to speak, it seemed—as TK was ostensibly his guide in this place unfamiliar to him—and he was thoroughly incapable. All that accompanied them was the clap of the horses’ hooves on the stones and both their nervous breathing. 

When they arrived at the southwest corner of the Central Park, TK paid the driver and slipped out before Mr. Reyes could offer him a hand. He knew not what he would do if he felt that warmth upon his skin again in his current state. The other man looked a bit let down, but TK dismissed it as a trick of his longing imagination. 

They entered and set about the promenade which, even at this time of the evening, was still thronged with late perusers. As they walked among the fresh grass and beautiful tree lined paths, TK did his best to drum up the wherewithal to speak, to offer some manner of conversation lest he seem rude in his silence.

“I suppose it looks rather…artificial to you,” he said quietly. 

Mr. Reyes startled a bit, apparently accustomed to TK’s lack of voice thus far, but he recovered quickly with an eager smile turned to his companion. 

“Not at all! It’s all very…whimsical I think. This beautiful bounty of nature preserved in the middle of all that stone and brick. It’s…peaceful.”

“Yes,” TK thought aloud. “It’s quite serene. The further in you go, the less the city outside of it seems real. The sounds and smog melt away and you just feel…” he trailed off, words failing.

“Like we’re in our own little Eden.” Carlos’ eyes were like pools of shining dark chocolate in the gaslamp light. Sweet and alluring. 

TK could only nod dumbly, and try to look away. He accomplished it with much difficulty. 

They walked in a much softer silence for a time, passing a couple of people TK recognized from parties and balls around the city, but they never stopped to converse with anyone. Mr. Reyes seemed to want to keep his company for himself, which TK could not think what to do about, so he remained passively quiet. 

About half an hour into their journey, his companion spoke. 

“I’ve actually got something I’d like to…well, first there’s something I…I need to tell you.” Carlos’ face was unreadable, but his tone was quiet and reserved. TK’s heart clenched painfully. Carlos had been in an odd countenance since his arrival, and TK could only attribute it to the awkwardness surrounding his ridiculous assumptions about Carlos’ feelings and the utter embarrassment of his departure from Texas. 

“Oh?” was all he said, suddenly breathless with an ache he could barely stand. 

“I’m not sure if you were informed when you last visited, but—” he paused for so long, TK turned to look at him at his side, wondering what halted his speech. His face was still unreadable, but his voice now had a very slight tremble to it. TK tried to keep his own face open, so that Mr. Reyes felt safe to continue. 

“For several years now I have had an...understanding. With a gentleman from California, with whom my family is quite acquainted.”

The vice around TK’s heart clenched cruelly at the reminder. “Yes, Mr. de Castillo. Your mother and sisters—and some of those from the county—told me about him. Quite admired, he is, by all.”

“Yes…” His voice trailed off into silence again, and this time when TK sneaked a look he seemed troubled. TK wished he could put the man’s fears at ease, that if he feared a faux pas in tearing down TK’s feelings that he needn’t worry about it.

But that would have been a lie.

“Yes,” he said again, going on. “We’ve actually been courting these last months, not long after yours and your father’s departure.”

TK took the blow as best he could, with a calm countenance, when really he wished this torturous conversation would end so that he could limp back to his bed and curl up in misery until the second coming. Why on earth did Carlos feel the need to do this? Weren’t they settled in being apart from each other? No more than business acquaintances? 

The thought alone dealt his heart another painful blow. 

“About a month ago he—he called on me to...state his intentions.” His voice sounded flatter than TK would assume from a happily engaged man. Still, he tried to inject some light into his own tone when he answered.

“I am so happy for you, Car—Mr. Reyes,” he said with as much enthusiasm as he could muster which, admittedly, was not very much at all.

However, his tone must have belied his utter devastation because Mr. Reyes abruptly stopped and gently tugged him to the side of the path, so that they would not impede other couples on the promenade. TK almost swooned at the touch.

“I’m sorry?” the other man said, a look of confusion and slight hurt across his beautiful eyes. TK was now confused as well.

“I...I only wish to convey my happiness on your engagement. You must be thrilled to have your future finally settled. Not only must it be a relief, but with such a fine gentleman as I have heard.” Carlos’ hand was still lightly holding onto his upper arm, and though it pained TK in the worst way to do it, he ever so deftly maneuvered his body so that the contact was dropped. 

“I think that...well I...that is…” Carlos was staring at him, that hurt look growing in his brown eyes and TK wanted nothing more than to take it away but he didn’t know how.

“Mr. Strand—TK,” he said so softly that TK could hear his own heart beat in the silence. “I think that you have...misunderstood me.” TK had been staring at a spot over Carlos’ shoulder until then, unable to meet his eyes any longer for fear he’d burst into tears in the middle of Central Park, but at the plea he shifted his watery gaze back to sink into the pools of liquid chocolate in front of him. 

“Mr. de Castillo—Fernando, that is—has proposed marriage to me, it’s true—” In the minuscule pause between these words and the next set, TK felt his heart slow to a stop with the inexorable weight set upon it by this conversation, “—but I have turned him down.”

And at this, that traitorous heart gave one slow, painful beat of hope that TK was powerless to tamp down. 

When he could find his voice, it was to incredulously say, “Whatever for?” 

Carlos reached down to take TK’s hand in his, and TK was sure he was trembling like a sheaf of paper caught in the wind. He brought it between both his hands, brushing the knuckles ever so lightly—so much so that TK was sure he’d imagined it. 

“Because I could not marry a man that I do not love, and I do not love Fernando. No matter how much of a wonderful and kind gentleman he is, and no matter how ashamed and saddened it made me to tell him so. But I cannot betray my own heart.”

TK’s legs were going to give out any moment. He had no other thought in his head but staying upright, using that tentative hold on his hand, still gentle as ever, as his anchor. He dare not let his thoughts follow themselves to any conclusions. 

“The truth is, TK, my heart belongs to another. It has for some time, and I was too stubborn with misplaced loyalty to give it a say. That is, until now. Which is why I imparted the information to you.”

TK kept staring into the man’s eyes, wondering if this was all some dream he’d tumbled into in slumber. He was sure this must be his own mind conjuring the conversation, guilty as it was of yearning for it. 

“I wish to apologize for taking so very long to come to my senses. I always strive to be honorable, and for a time I thought that meant that I must remain true to Fernando. But I’ve been made to realize that my thinking was wrong.” TK could only take the words in stride, adrift as he was on the roaring sea of his emotions. 

The man continued, while TK himself was made to listen to the most illogical combination of words his brain could have come up with in his current state. He was still convinced he was dreaming. Carlos reaching down and taking both his hands did nothing to bring him out of said state. Furthermore, it made him feel as if he was about to float away into the stars, unmoored as he was except for those twin points of contact. 

“You are the most optimistic, brilliant, engaging creature I have ever known. Your smile could light up a room if every candle failed. I find myself riveted any time you’ve got an anecdote to tell, and in these months of not hearing your voice I have conjured it in my dreams more times than I care to admit.

“I wish to spend the rest of my days making you smile and laugh, waking with the morning sunshine just to see how it dapples your face, and admiring you from across the dinner table every single evening for the rest of my life. TK, if I have been mistaken, and you do not return my affections, please stop me from making a further fool of myself.” This he said with a little nervous chuckle that cut straight through TK’s very soul. He looked up through his lashes at TK, nervous. 

TK, in turn, was struck dumb by the confession. Carlos apparently took this as a queue to continue to the most preposterously happy thing that had yet to be uttered in this very winding conversation that had had TK’s heart in knots since it began. 

“Mr. Strand. If I have not been remiss in my assumptions of your affection, I urge you, no I beg you to consider my humble plea. Would you consent to be my husband? It would make me the happiest man in the entire world.”

TK felt himself take in a slow, careful breath. It took several moments for him to find his voice, and then it was only to utter on a half-expelled gasp, “Truly?” 

“Yes, truly,” was the nearly equally breathless answer.

Again, it was a struggle to find volume behind the utter euphoria that had overtaken him, but soon enough, he pushed the words out in a little more than a whisper, lest he accidentally shout and call undue attention. “Then, yes. Yes!” Tears were already warming his cheeks and chin, but TK didn’t care a wit. He went easily as Carlos embraced him tightly, feeling warmth suffusing his entire body at every place they touched. 

Before long, they had to part, lest they invite accusations of impropriety.

“I…I had thought…well it doesn’t matter now I suppose,” he stammered, thoughts swirling with emotion and unable to tamp them down. Not wanting to. 

“I apologize again for taking so long. Your smile, your face is all I’ve thought about for months. The moment you were gone my heart sank to the deepest depths.”

“Mine as well,” TK admitted. “I have…neglected myself these last few months, I’m afraid. I thought I could learn to forget you in time, but alas…”

“When you entered the parlor, I was distraught to see you looking unwell. Please, I beg of you, please take care of yourself. I don’t know what I would do if…”

“I know. I apologize for my appearance. I did not mean to give you cause for concern.”

Carlos briefly reached up to touch TK’s slightly sunken cheek. “I hope you can forgive me, for it is my silence that has caused you such distress, but I also find myself elated that you feel the same as I do. I can still scarcely believe it.” His voice was rising with happiness, and TK felt drunk on it like the sweetest wine. “I must admit, though, I cannot claim full responsibility for coming to my senses. Christina was quite adamant that I was being an imbecile.”

TK looked down at the ground for a moment. “I…asked her—no, begged her really—not to speak of you in our correspondence.”

“She told me. It’s why I—“ Carlos stopped abruptly, looking chagrined. 

“What is it?” TK asked.

“Well I…I knew you did not want to speak to me, but I just had to…that is I…I sent you…something. I wrote a letter and signed her name to it. She laughed about it later, but she called me an utter fool for not being more courageous about it.

TK halted in the middle of the path. Immediately, he knew. He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket, pulling out a delicate fold of linen edged in bright yellow. He held it gently in his fingers, caressing the soft folds that had cemented themselves after so long kept in his pocket. 

Even in the lamplight, he could see Carlos’ face flush slightly. 

“I wanted to court you properly, but circumstances were…well. In the end I was cowardly about it I suppose.” He ducked his head bashfully. 

“I think, deep down, I knew. I didn’t want to let myself believe, but…I’d never spoken to Christina about the wildflowers.” TK’s own voice was reverent. 

“She told me that. When I told her what I’d done, she told me you would see right through it.”

“You called me beloved…”

Carlos looked deep into his eyes. “Yes.”

TK nearly swooned again, new tears dripping down his cheeks which were positively sore with how much he was smiling. He tucked the treasure back into his jacket.

“We’ll have to tell my father, I suppose,” he said after a time, absolutely giddy as they began to walk along the path again, back to the streets toward the Strands’ home. 

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that. I’ve already gotten his blessing,” Carlos answered with a smug grin to answer TK’s astonished expression. “That’s what we were talking about earlier today, before you interrupted us.”

“Well, you’ve thought of everything haven’t you?”

“I think I’d like very badly to kiss you, but I’ll hold off. Wouldn’t want anything to jeopardize your good opinion of me, would we?’ His smile was absolutely radiant. TK thought to himself that if this were to be his life, staring at this gorgeous face full of love for all his days, he’d never be unhappy again. 

*

The fire was dying down and Carlos finally moved to take his leave. 

“Must you go?” TK couldn’t quite keep the pout from his voice, but at least now, he did not care too much if Carlos heard it.

“I’ve stayed too long as it is, people will talk,” he answered with an indulgent smile as TK walked him out of the parlor and into the hallway. The servants had long gone to bed, so it was up to TK himself to help Carlos on with his coat. 

“You’re my fiance now,” he said, glowing all the while and unable to help it. “People will have to get used to the fact that I want to be around you every waking moment of the day without pause.”

“Yes, but no one knows that yet and I wouldn’t want to besmirch your good name.” 

“When will I see you again, then?” He slid the overcoat onto broad shoulders, nearly letting his fingers linger a bit too long for propriety.

“I’ll call tomorrow to meet with your father again. We do have actual business to finalize after all. You’ll be there, won’t you?” Now it was Carlos’ turn to pout a bit, and TK was powerless against it. 

“Of course. Well, I’ll say good night.” He looked up into the face of the most beautiful man, the man he was going to spend the rest of his unbelievably happy days with. 

“Good night, my heart,” said Carlos, reaching up a hand to caress TK’s face so gently it caused an aching pang in his heart. Slowly, carefully, he moved his calloused thumb across TK’s lips, back and forth a few times as if trying to memorize the shape of them. TK gave a small shudder.

“My, Mr. Reyes, you’re being very forward.” He couldn’t help smiling. As the man had not removed his hand yet, TK pursed his lips ever so slightly, bestowing a chaste kiss against his thumb.

Carlos chuckled softly, covering an intake of breath. “Now who’s forward?” He was smiling so wide it looked as if it hurt.

“You’re my fiance,” TK answered against the warm skin, the word still feeling like glistening honey in his mouth, “I can be as forward as I like.”

“God in heaven, I want to kiss you.” Carlos looked like he might do it, but restrained himself as a gentleman should. They’d pushed the bounds of propriety enough for one day, TK supposed. Though he would have welcomed it gladly, as clandestine and salacious as it would have been. After a few more strokes, Carlos finally dropped his hand from TK’s face. “This will have to do for now, I suppose.” He took TK’s own hand in his and laid a gentle kiss against his knuckles. 

“But not for long?” 

“No, my heart. Not for long. I won’t be able to do with a long engagement. I will perish before I make it to the church if you make me wait for more than a couple of months.”

“I’ll see what I can do. But my father will want to invite the whole of New York, so you know.” He couldn’t help a roll of his eyes, however fond the gesture was. His father loved a good party, and the marriage of his only son—finally, he would probably say—was sure to prove one for the ages. 

“Ah, yes, and we mustn’t forget the entirety of the county back home, if my mother and Christina have anything to say about it,” Carlos said with another fond chuckle. “You have her to thank, by the way. For getting me out of my head and back on solid ground. My sister is your champion in sickness and in health. That is, until I get to call you my husband.”

TK shuddered again at the mere word. 

“I really should go,” Carlos said again. He made no move toward the door. 

“You really should,” TK prompted. He moved to open the door, and finally they broke their gaze from each other. 

As Carlos stepped out, he turned to smile one last time and it turned TK’s stomach into a whole flock of butterflies. “Good night, dearest. I’ll call on you and your father tomorrow.”

“I will be dying a slow death until that moment breathes me back to life,” TK lamented.

“As will I.”

TK watched him walk away into the night before finally closing the door against the chill of the Manhattan midnight. For several long moments, he simply leaned against the door and caught his breath, giving thanks to all the forces that managed to bring the two of them together so favorably. He’d have to write to Christina the moment he woke in the morning. 

[kurama-is-love]

A day at the beach (Kurama x Reader)

Word count: 8292 (My longest oneshot so far.) Genre: comedy (mostly), romance, lime (slight sexual situations) Rating: 12+ (nothing explicit)

Pairings: Kurama x Female!Reader, Yuusuke x Keiko, Kuwabara x Yukina

Some note at the side: I didn't gave Jin an irish accent like he had in the english dub version, because I am german and have absolutely no clue about that accent. So.. just to let you know. I still don’t have a beta reader, so I am sorry about my english.

Summer, the sun, beach and more. Was there anything better than spending a relaxing time at the sea with your best friends?

This was what Yusuke, Kuwabara, Kurama, Keiko, Botan, Shizuru, Yukina and you thought when you had packed your stuff and drove towards Okinawa in the caravan that your brother had kindly provided.

Koenma had burdened a lot of you guys lately, which is why this vacation was found to be urgently needed, at least from Yusuke and you. Even Hiei was somehow persuaded to come along. Of course, the fire koorime had refused at first, but then Yusuke had a convincing argument.

“Yukina will be walking around there, half naked. You don't even know what Kuwabara could do with her when~"

And suddenly Hiei was convinced .. Should Kuwabara even try to make a suspicious move or touch on his beloved sister, a sword would be stuck in his human head.

"Sooo. Here we are. A 1-A private beach. Here we have our well deserved rest. " Yusuke grinned and put his hands on his hips as he looked over the fine sand and saw the water slowly glistening in the sun.

"Private beach? I didn't even know that one of you guys were rich .. Yusuke, we're 'legally' allowed to be here, aren't we ..? ” You asked slightly skeptical and crossed your arms. The black-haired man laughed uncertainly and waved his hand.

"Of course we are. This is the beach of ... a friend of mine. Right, Kuwabara? " Yusuke asked and hit the bigger guy in his side.

“What friend, Urameshi? You said the beach belonged to your dead grandparents? ” The orange-haired man said, confused.

Yusuke laughed when everyone looked at him reproachfully.

"Yusuke .." Keiko sighed and was about to hit her fiancé. Some things just never changed.

"Now calm down, everyone! This beach is not used by anyone! You see the beach house up there? I found letters in the mailbox that are 4 years old. Nobody has been here that long. So please. "

His words made you and the others not more relaxed.

'

“How do you know that? Don't say you have the key for their house? ” Kurama asked and raised an eyebrow, examining his friend's reaction carefully. Yusuke just shrugged his shoulders.

"People shouldn't just do it like in the movies and hide their keys under a flower pot next to the front door." his cheeky reply followed by his smirk.

"YUSUKE ...!" You sighed in unison, until finally giving in and simply accepted his antics. If you get caught, you could still blame it on Yusuke..

After the caravan was parked, the group went to the "borrowed" beach house to change for the beach. You, along with the other women, went in a bedroom on the upper floor, while the men had their area on the first floor and found a grill in addition to their swimwear. Perfect for an evening barbecue later, which can be set up outside in the back of the house.

You got along very well with the other women, especially Keiko. You both had a wonderful chemistry right from the start and quickly became best friends. However, everyone knew of the feelings that you harbored for a certain red-haired handsome man among the group. That's why Botan and Shizuru used moments like this to tease and encourage you to finally confess your feelings to Kurama.

"Uhm .. excuse me .." Yukina nervously began and pointed to the bikini. “Do I have to wear something like that too? Isn't there anything .. Uhm .. decent that covers more skin ..? " The shy snow maiden asked and was a blushy mess when she saw the others undressing to change.

"Oh, there's nothing wrong with it, Yukina." Botan tried to calm her down. “A bikini has to look like this. And you have a great body. So you have no reason to hide it. “ the female grim reaper of the spirit world winked cheekily.

“Botan, stop teasing the poor girl like that. If you don't feel confident enough, you are welcome to wear one of my swimsuits. " You offered and searched your bag for bathing suits.

What you found then, however, was surprising.

"Huh? I'm sure that I packed swimsuits .. ” You paused and rummaged through the whole bag until you found the only bikini in it. "...That's not one of my bikinis …" you mumbled suspiciously and when you lifted the top, you noticed a small note hanging on it.

'Hey, my beloved sister, you can thank me later. I saw this cool sexy bikini piece and got it for you so that you can finally seduce Kurama. You don't need any more, so finally get on with it!

With love, your brother [b/n] '

"... That damn, little …" You sighed in frustration and dropped the piece of fabric. Keiko noticed your mood change and stepped next to you.

"What's wrong, [Y/n]?" She asked worriedly and then saw the bikini. "... isn't that a little too ... revealing? It doesn't even have real cups, it just has narrow fabric up to the straps .. ”she added.

"... My brother is responsible for this. He hopes that this will cause something to happen between Kurama and me. “You mumbled. “You will have to go swimming without me. Because I'm definitely not going to put that on. " You shook your head.

"Oh that'll be fine. Hey I can quickly make a portal into the spirit world and get you a normal bikini from me! How does that sound? “ Botan asked with a grin.

"Why do you want us all to wear bikinis here?"You wanted to know and touched your forehead in annoyance.

"Well, how else do you want to conquer the men of your heart? Yukina-san can easily wrap Kuwabara around her finger in a bikini and I think Kurama will be very excited when he sees you in a bikini. "Botan grinned.

"First of all, Yukina doesn't need any extra to gain Kuwabara's attention because he's already madly in love with her." You corrected.

"W-What ..?" Yukina's head lifted in shock and her face reddened massively.

"Shit .. Sorry Yukina-chan, I had completely forgotten that you are still here .."

"Kazuma is ... in love with me?" Yukina asked incredulously.

"You never noticed?" Shizuru asked and took a drag on her cigarette. She was already in her swim suit and just waited for the others.

"I .. knew that he liked me, but .. that it was feelings like that .." Yukina mumbled, slightly embarrassed, and put her hands on her cheek.

"Ta-daaaa. Here I am. I have a really cute bikini for you! “Botan interrupted this unpleasant - at least for Yukina - conversation and gave you a cherry red bikini with a rose decoration on the upper strap.

"Wah? When did you go to the spirit world? I didn't even notice that you were gone .. " You shrieked and saw Botan grin appraisingly.

“Well, I'm not number 1 for portals into the spirit world for nothing. Fast and silently like a ninja, I walk between the worlds and ensure peace! "

"Chaos fits better."

“Oh, I can take the bikini back with me and then you have to have this half piece of cloth to wear where your breasts almost fall out .. Mmm, although that's more optimal, because that way you would definitely have Kurama's attention. ” Botan giggled at her last sentence.

“It's okay. I'm sorry. I take it. Thank you, Botan .. "

Botan grinned triumphantly and after each of the women was dressed appropriately for the beach, you went down to meet with the boys. However, you only found Kurama there.

"Where are the others?" Keiko asked and covered her upper body with a colorful pareo, which should give her a minimal feeling of concealment. Because she felt a little too naked for her liking too when someone other as Yusuke saw her like this.

"They have already gone to the beach." The kitsune explained and only looked briefly at the others. Because when his gaze fell on you, he directly averted his gaze and cleared his throat barely audibly ."You girls look adorable, by the way."

"Thank you. But why are you the only one still here? " Botan wanted to know.

“To wait for you. The others have found a good spot on the beach where we can all hang out. I stayed here to take you to this place so you don't have to look for us out there first. " Kurama explained with a smile.

"A gentleman as always."You spoke with a smile and when Kurama's gaze met yours again, both of you suddenly turned a little red in the face.

"Of course, when it comes to charming ladies like you." The redhead smiled and led the group of women outside. It was only a few minutes before you saw two men in the distance attacking each other. Yusuke and Kuwabara fought again. That was no longer unusual for you and so you sat down on the large beach towel. In the middle was a picnic basket from which everyone could help themselves. There were sandwiches, rice balls, and cold drinks that Kurama had taken as a precaution. This man just thought of everything.

After the two brawlers broke away from their petty argument, the group began to split into different activities. Yukina, Botan and Kuwabara built sandcastles, respectively Kuwabara built a huge heart for his Yukina. After you had slipped out what the orange-haired felt for Hiei's sister, Yukina even dared to reveal her own feelings. She had a bright red head, but when an overjoyed Kuwabara hugged her and even cried a little for joy, she smiled gently and relaxed into this new feeling. It was just as sweet as sugar. Even when Hiei almost freaked out, in the end he just wanted Yukina to be happy. And if that idiot made her happy, so be it ..

Keiko and Yusuke plunged directly into the floods of water and cooled off. It was pleasant to see how happy they were when Yusuke pulled Keiko up in the water and laughingly took her with him until he dropped her before the brown-haired woman countered with splashing water at him. Even if they argued every now and then, it was clear to see how much they meant to each other and it was just great.

Hiei and Shizuru were the only ones who holed up outside and did not care about the hustle and bustle of the others. They felt more like the babysitters of this gang of rascals on this trip. While Shizuru was able to find some relaxation by reading a book, Hiei just stared emotionlessly at the water. He was probably bored, without fighting enemies and stuff.

That left you and Kurama, who were still sitting on the beach towel and watching your friends in amusement.

"They're all having so much fun," you smiled. "It was really a good idea to come here," you added quietly.

“It really was. I'm glad to be able to find some relaxation too. " Kurama agreed and you looked at each other before your smiles grew wider and your eyes fell on your friends again.

“And I'm so happy for Yukina and Kuwabara. Actually, I just slipped out that he loves her, but I'm glad that it led to our little shy Yukina confessing her feelings to him. " You said then.

"Oh? So you are responsible for Yukina's sudden confession? ” Kurama smirked and took a strand of [h/c] hair from your face as he put it behind your ear. Such loving gestures had almost become normal for both of you. And yet you were no more than friends.

"Oh, that's a long story." You giggled and hoped that your redhead didn't ask any further, otherwise you would have to explain about the bikinis and your feelings, for better or worse. Because you just couldn't and didn't want to lie to him.

"I like long stories," Kurama smiled.

... You knew he would say that.

“It's really not that extraordinary. We talked when we were getting changed and Botan said that Yukina could attract the attention of Kuwabara with a bikini  " You revealed.

"Ahaha. She has his attention the whole time. " Kurama interrupted you with a chuckle.

"I said that, too! And then it slipped out because he loves her. “ You laughed and scratched your cheek in disgrace.

Kurama smiled silently and briefly closed his eyes. A few years ago, he would never have dared to dream of making such great friends, let alone going on a trip to the beach. Fate sometimes had a strange sense of humor, thought the fox demon.

“But we shouldn't sit in the sun unprotected. Should I put some lotion on your back? “ You offered and waved the tube of sun lotion in front of his eyes. Kurama's smile softened and he nodded slightly.

"With pleasure. But only if I can put some lotion on your back afterwards, ”he said, which made you blush.

"Of course." You said quietly and sat down behind Kurama. He had his long, fiery red hair tied up so it was pinned up and out of the way. The kitsune closed his eyes when he felt the cold sun lotion on his shoulders. Shortly afterwards, your fingers gently danced over his skin to distribute the sun lotion around the neck and back. You applied a little variable pressure to massage the sun lotion in aswell. You smiled incessantly and didn't think anything bad about it at first, until you heard a sound that you had never heard before from Kurama.

He moaned so softly, it almost sounded like a purr. Purred foxes like cats? You wondered and smiled when Kurama seemed to relax completely. At least you could see it in his posture and the way his muscles twitched at your touch.

"You're totally tense." You commented, in order to escape this uncomfortable silence and also to contain his sinfully erotic sounds. Because these sounds did not pass you completely without a trace of a pleasant tingling sensation spreading in your crotch area.

“Does that surprise you? Fighting demons the whole time and then enduring Yusuke and Kuwabara's eternal quarrels .. " he joked and closed his eyes again when his head fell back almost by itself. "Aaah .."

This sound now made you blush. Your fingers slid very gently over his skin until you had completely covered his back and released all tension. You just took that time.

Kurama stretched himself and stood up.

"Thanks." He smiled and took the sun lotion from you. “Now it's your turn. Turn around. " He ordered gently and you obeyed immediately as you sat down in front of him with your back turned. However, Kurama was reluctant to use the sunscreen. "Uhm .."

"What's wrong, Kurama?" You asked and turned your head slightly so you could see him from the corner of your eye. It wasn't common for him to be reluctant.

“Would it be okay to unknot your top? The stripes bother a little. ” His voice was a little quiet and you could swear that they had a touch of hoarseness. Your cheeks literally glowed at this request, but since you were turned with your back to him and the others were far enough away, it was okay. You trusted Kurama.

"Yes. Will you open the knot, please? It's so difficult for me to get there and you are already ideal positioned for it. " You said softly, which made Kurama slightly blushed with a soft smile. These passionate tensions between the both of you grew stronger and yet no one dared to take the first step. It was frustrating, but also exciting somewhere and you enjoyed these intimate moments of with him alone and you could tell by his reactions, that Kurama felt the same way.

"Good, but if you should give me a slap for this action, I'll be happy to remind you that you gave me permission," he teased, making you laugh again. It was unbelievable how often you two could just laugh together and open up to each other completely.

"Aren't you mistaking me for Keiko? I wouldn't even slap you if you 'accidentally' touched my bum, "you admitted honestly, until you realized what you were saying.

"Oh, I'll keep that in the back of my head for sure." The redhead smirked, laughing and his fingers slightly, but provocatively running up and down your sides.

"Kurama .. I think your demon side is slowly seeping through." You sighed, slightly embarrassed, but not without a broad smile. It wasn't like you didn't enjoy flirting and his ambiguities. And then these touches ... But you could tell when Kurama's Youko side was involved. Not that you minded. Because you loved his Youko side as much as him.

"Sorry." He laughed very softly and gave you an apologetic kiss on your hair until he finally took care of the knot of your top. His fingers played around the cord of the knot a little teasingly before he slowly undid it and you had to hold the fabric at the front so that it don't suddenly exposed your bare chest.

Kurama dripped some sun lotion on his hand before starting to spread the cool substance from the back of your neck. Now it was your turn to enjoy. You closed your eyes and let the feel of his fingers sink in. His touches were so light as a feather and yet they kindled a blazing fire in you, which slowly clouded your mind. When he massaged the lotion as you did with him, you couldn't help it and a pleasant sigh left your lips. Kurama gave a small smile and began to massage your neck area lightly. That turned your enjoyable sigh into a slight moan.

You were startled by your own voice and put your hand over your mouth, embarrassed. You never made such noises. How embarrassing..

Kurama noticed your sudden stiffening and blinked before realizing how embarrassed you were. He smiled and hugged you around your arms. When he leaned at your back, he also got some of the sun lotion on his chest and stomach area, but he didn't care. You gasped in surprise when Kurama pulled you close and moved his arms around your hips. His head rested on your shoulder and his eyes were closed. Probably out of decency, so as not to risk a look at your very inviting neckline.

“You don't have to be uncomfortable with such sounds. To be honest, I think it's pretty cute. " He breathed tenderly next to your ear and didn't even tried to resist the urge to kiss your ear lobe. Very delicate, but sensual. You shuddered at his deep voice and his lips on your ear. You didn't trusted you voice right now, which is why you were silent at first.

“Really, now? As soon as we all are gone, you two literally pounce on each other. Are you so addicted to each other? I thought you were more subtle at least, Kurama. " Yusuke laughed, who came from the shore with a broadly grinning Keiko and gave his kitsune friend a thumbs up.

The two of you separated in a flash and Kurama helped you to tie the top again before clearing his throat to keep his composure and not to appear embarrassed. Your friends had actually found you in a highly ambiguous situation.

“It's not what it looked like. We just put lotion on each other's backs to avoid getting sunburn. ", you explained, but you couldn't explain your bright red head. Yusuke crossed his arms, his grin was almost eerie.

"Oh really? Since when do you put on sun lotion in such an intimate position? " The black-haired man asked further until he got a slap on the back of his head from his fiancée. "Ouch! What was that for now, Keiko? "

“Can't you see that both of them are uncomfortable? Why can't you even think one time before you make any stupid comments? ” Keiko sighed. There were moments when she actually questioned why she loved this guy in the first place.

"Yes .. I'm sorry, I didn't think before I spoke.", Yusuke apologized and held the spot that Keiko had hit.

"Isn't that your permanent condition?" Kuwabara's amused voice came from behind him.

"WHAT WAS THAT, IDIOT?"

".. Brawl Incoming in 3..2 ... 1" and exactly at the 1 of your countdown the two started fighting again .. But at least it took the attention of you and Kurama.

"Woah. Yusuke was right. This beach has a great view and no annoying glances. We can stay here unhindered, Touya. "A familiar male voice suddenly laughed.

“Wrong, I could hang out among humans without attracting attention. You are the one who has visible demon traits. " Touya replied dryly and pointed to the long, sharp ears and the distinctive horn on the forehead of his red-haired companion.

"Jin? Touya? What are you doing here? " Botan asked, now that all friends had returned to the beach blanket.

“Yusuke invited us! And since Koenma is here too, is it okay? ”Jin asked with a grin and crossed his arms behind his head.

"Koenma is here? !!?" Botan's face fell and Jin pointed to a corner on the beach. The friends' eyes met a small lounger there. There he lied. The baby ruler of the spirit world and next to him his constant assistant and messenger, the blue ogre Jorge.

"...."

Everyone turned to Yusuke, who was waving his arms defensively.

“Don't look at me like that! I only invited Jin and Touya! I would never bring the shit-arse(I have absolutely no idea how Yusuke calls Koenma in the english version, I am sorry..) here! I was glad I didn't see his pacifier visage for a few days! " He protested.

"I heard that Yusuke!"

"Pretty good ears for such a small man ..."

The friends shared a soft laugh. You just couldn't be angry with Yusuke for his spontaneous and often idiotic ideas. He was loved for those.

"Oi, Jin! Come here! “ Yusuke called after the wind demon after he was allowed to apologize to Koenma for his disrespect. Oh man, at least the old witch Genkai wasn't there. Then he would have to run the gauntlet, he thought.

Jin obeyed his best friend and floated next to him. "What's up?" He wanted to know.

Yusuke whispered something in his ear and you had an incredibly bad feeling about this thing when you watched them. Because Jin blinked perplexed and then looked at you, which confirmed you in the matter that it was about you what the two were discussing. The cheeky wind demon with the horn grinned broadly and nodded enthusiastically.

Oh no, what was Yusuke up to now ..?

Since that whispering, you kept an eye on the two men. Even Kurama noticed your concentration at some point when you did not respond to his question whether you would like to go into the water with him.

"[Y/n]-chan ..?" He asked worried and put his hand on your shoulder. That touch made you wake up from your trance-like rigidity and stop looking at Jin and Yusuke, who were both playfully wrestling in the sand.

"Huh?" you asked, looking at Kuramas' worried emerald green irises. They exuded so much wisdom, but also devotion and passion. It was very easy to get lost in his gaze.

"Is everything ok? You seem so absent since Jin and Touya got here. Do you feel uncomfortable because they are demons? ”Kurama asked, even if the question was completely nonsensical. He and Yusuke were demons too, and Hiei too. But you knew them much longer and you hadn't had much to do with Touya and Jin.

“Don't talk nonsense, Kurama. Half of my circle of friends consists of demons. " You replied with a smile, referring to the people just mentioned. Kurama smiled in relief at your answer. "Don't worry, I really like Touya and Jin, just .. I have the feeling that Yusuke is up to something stupid again and I'm the one to suffer from it." You sighed.

"Why do you think so?" The redhead wanted to know and also looked at Yusuke and Jin, who were laughing in the sand, both covered with bruises.

"Yusuke whispered something in Jin's ear and then they both looked at me with strange grimaces."

“I can't speak for Jin, but I'm 100% sure with Yusuke that he won't mean you any harm. Don't worry, they both have nonsense on their minds. I take care that their pranks won't escalate. Do you feel more comfortable with that? ”He asked with the most charming smile you ever saw at him. You almost melted away on the spot. This man was just too good for this world .. Sure, he was still a demon, but he would do anything to protect those he loved.

“Much better. Thank you, Kurama. " you replied with a smile that matches his smile, which made Kurama's heart jump with joy.

"Not for that," he whispered back and put his hand on your cheek to gently stroke your cheekbones with his thumb. You leaned into this touch and closed your eyes. "Evening is arriving soon. Wanna come into the water for a bit before it's dark? "

You nodded and Kurama grinned slightly before he lifted you up like a bride and carried you towards the water.

"Kurama .. I can walk alone."You protested meekly as you put your arms around his neck for a better grip.

"I know. But I also want to have a little fun sometimes. “ He chuckled with a cheeky undertone, to which you reacted perplexed, until you were dropped into the cold water without warning.

After you resurfaced, Kurama looked at you with an innocent expression.

"That was mean! At least warn me before you drop me like that. You get that back, foxy."You grinned back and just like Yusuke and Keiko earlier, a playful water fight broke out between the two of you. Who could have guessed that even Kurama found himself in joking around every now and then? He was usually the intelligent, strategic and calm part of the group.

The others watched the goings-on from their place. Yusuke crossed his arms with a grin.

"Have you ever seen Kurama so exuberant and happy?" He asked the others.

"What are you getting at, Urameshi?" Kuwabara asked, cocking his head slightly. Yukina slept cuddled in his arms.

“That's obvious, dumbass. [Y/n] and Kurama are made for each other. As long as I've known him, he's never been like this ... How should I put it ... “ Yusuke stopped to look for the right words. "He's just never taken the initiative with a woman."

"Now that you mention it," the orange-haired paused. “Kurama was always the popular heartthrob at his school, right? But I've never seen him so intimately with a woman."

"Exactly, that's what I mean. Kurama acts different when he's with her. He flirts, he seeks her company. He's completely head over heels for her. " Yusuke explained with a smirk.

"And [Y/n]? Does she feel the same way? ”Touya asked.

“One hundred percent. I'll bet the money I've saved for the wedding. " Yusuke nodded.

"Yusuke .."

"I was just kidding Keiko."

You and Kurama tried to catch each other for a while in the water, competed in swimming competitions to a nearby buoy and finally let the movements fade away by floating on your backs and looking at the sky. You were breathing a little heavily from your activities.

"Next time I'll win," you spoke, referring to the swimming competition. Kurama laughed softly and swam while lying on his back to you until he almost collided with your water-floating body.

"If you ask very nicely, I'll let you win." He said teasingly and you pouted at this answer. This kitsune was getting cheekier, or was that just how it felt?

"Do not show off. You only won because you manipulated the algae with your yoki to slow me down. I felt them wriggling around my legs. That was unfair, you cheater, " you pouted.

Kurama smiled widely and then rose from the lying position.

"And I thought you wouldn't notice," he said and held his hand for you to pull you back to your feet since you weren't that deep in the water.

"You thought wrong. Next time we'll swim in a real swimming pool without plants that give you an unfair advantage. "

"Alright."

You looked at each other briefly and had to laugh before you slowly went ashore. Neither of you had laughed as much as you did today in a long time. Everything was just perfect and harmonious. It could stay that way forever.

As the two of you set foot on the wet sand, which was constantly being hit by the waves, you noticed a strange breeze behind you.

"Wh-", even before you could register it properly, you felt a wet and cold wind around your breasts. And a sense of nudity. Your top was gone!

"JIN ?!" You shouted angrily and covered your breasts with your hands when you looked over you and saw the wind demon grinning mischievously. He was holding the top of your bikini in his hand. "Give that back right away! What's that about?!"

Jin grinned wider and flew far out towards the open sea. He used his demonic speed to be a considerable distance away in a few seconds. After a short time he came back without the top.

“Mission accomplished Yusuke. Bikini top successfully sunk 40 km to the west. "

"I beg your pardon? Yusuke, an explanation please! And you Jin, get my top back, now. "

Yusuke laughed and Jin waved his hands.

"Sorry, I didn't remember where exactly I sank it." Jin apologized and landed at a safe distance.

Yusuke wiped a tear of laughter from his face and looked at you and Kurama, who had stood protectively in front of you.

“Your faces are priceless! Hahaha. Do not be angry. I thought we could make a FFK session, we are all among ourselves, ” he said jokingly. Of course, there were other reasons why Jin should get rid of the top, but he couldn't quite admit that in front of Kurama.

“You damn dipshit.. If I get you .. ”You growled in frustration as Kurama turned to you and put both hands on your shoulders.

"I have an idea," he said with a smile, but you could clearly see the redness of his cheeks. "But you have to take your hands off your body to do this," he mumbled.

You were so red in your face now that the shade of red could measure up to the hair of your fox. Should you bare yourself before him? He was standing in front of you in such a way that the others couldn't see you, but that didn't help your embarrassment in the least when you thought about the fact that he could see your breasts. Kurama noticed your hesitation and stood so close to you that your bodies were almost touching. "I don't look, I promise," he whispered near your ear.

You swallowed, then nodded.

"I trust you, Kurama ..“ you said and loosened your arms as they hung by your sides again and your upper body could now be seen unprotected. Kurama smiled gently at your trust in him and took two seeds from his hair, which he placed on either side of your shoulder.

"Do not Scare. Just trust me. ” He warned you and used his yoki to sprout tendrils from the seeds. You blinked, perplexed, as the tendrils snaked around your breasts like a top and covered them so far that you could see even less than with the bikini. Rose petals adorned the straps above the base of your breast and when Kurama let go of you, he smiled again. "That should serve its purpose."

You looked down at yourself. The "plant top" felt pleasant and exuded the aromatic scent of wild roses, similar to the scent that Kurama always wore. You sighed comfortably and felt the top. No thorns, no holes showing skin. The top was perfect.

"It's perfect! Thank you, Kurama. ”You smiled and leaned forward to give Kurama a gentle kiss on the cheek. Kurama grinned slightly and wanted to hug you when you suddenly broke away and looked at Yusuke and Jin. "Now the two of them are getting a rubdown."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Darkness of the night had now fallen and the smell of grilled meat lingered in the air. The barbeque was in full swing and even Koenma and Hiei joined the group to eat the delicacies that Yusuke and Kuwabara had brought with them. At least the two of them really understood something about barbecuing. Even if the request at Hiei to fan the grill with his fire clearly met a lack of humor on the part of the Koorimes. Someone always goes to the cellar to laugh ...

Everyone was chatting wildly about all sorts of things until you noticed that a certain redhead was missing.

"Where's Kurama?" You asked, slightly worried, since it wasn't the fox's way to just disappear without a word. You immediately regretted the question when you saw Yusuke grinning maliciously. Great, another chance of being teased, now you were the one that gave him a target.

“Do you miss your fox already? Man, you two are really addicted to each other. " he laughed and took a bite of his hamburger with relish. Grilled still tasted best.

"Can't you just save your damn comments for one time? We are just friends. That's all .. ”You sighed, even if you weren't sure who you were lying to. Your friends or yourself.

"Oh come on. It's obvious to everyone here. Even Kuwabara and he has the brain of a protozoan. ”Yusuke said with a nod before Kuwabara tackled him down.

"URAMESHI ..!" He warned and you sighed before you got up.

"[Y/n]-san? I think I saw him walking towards the cliff. Kurama likes to be by himself when he has to think. But he certainly does not disdain your company. " Yukina smiled. You smiled back gratefully and nodded.

"Thank you, Yukina-chan."You said and made your way to the said cliff. Although Yusuke talked a lot of nonsense, he was right about one thing. Yes, you were addicted to Kurama. Yes, you missed him when you didn't see him, even if it was only a few hours. You simply sought his presence, like moths seek light. It was just maddening ..

You didn't have to walk far until you found the cliff ledge and a familiar head of red hair was gently blowing back and forth in the wind. He looked out at the horizon and seemed to be completely in thought. Still, you were sure that he must have noticed your presence when you stepped closer.

"Kurama ..? Are you all right? ”You asked quietly after reaching him and placing a warm hand on his shoulder. Kurama blinked slightly and turned to you. Since you looked so worried, he gave you a dreamy smile to calm you down.

"Yes everything alright. I only enjoy being by myself from time to time, because as much as I like my friends .. After a day like that I'm glad not to have them around, ”he admitted with a laugh.

"Oh." You mumbled. "Would you rather be alone then? I can leave again. "You offered him.

"No no. The others are a little stressful in a long run. You are the big exception. ", He soothed you and took your hand in his.

"Really?"You asked smiling and looked up as Kurama's smile softened and he brought your hand to his lips before caressing your knuckles one at a time with short kisses.

"Absolutely. If there’s anyone I’m never tired of being around, then that’s you, ”he said gently during this soft kisses on your fingers.

"Kurama .."Your voice was quiet and embarrassed and you looked deep into his irises, which shone with such intensity, as if he was looking directly into your soul.

"I'm serious." He said and pulled you closer to him, his lips were on your forehead and caressed the skin lovingly. You closed your eyes and snaked both arms around his hips. You enjoyed this closeness so much that you felt as if your heart was about to burst with bliss. "Come on, let's sit down a little and watch the stars," he said and then pulled away from you as he made himself comfortable on the stone. You sat down right next to him, your feet dangling down and you gazed into the starry sky.

There was a pleasant silence between you for a few moments before you realized you missed the physical closeness that his hugs created. Without thinking too much, you moved closer and leaned your head on his shoulder. Kurama looked at you, he smiled silently and put his arm around you to hold you close. His head rested against yours and both of two let out pleasant sighs before you began to giggle softly.

"Yusuke is obviously right."You began, which made Kurama blink questioningly. "I think we're really addicted to each other .." you added quietly and closed your eyes.

Your eyes opened again when he put his index finger under your chin and lifted your head slightly so that his pair of lips were only millimeters apart.

"You are addicted to me ~?" He asked. You shuddered when you felt his breath against your lips and swallowed lightly. Your heart rate had increased rapidly and your flushed cheeks literally glowed. He looked at you with so much love and desire that you finally ignored all your concerns.

"I'm addicted to you, Kurama .."

Shortly after those words left your lips, the kitsune pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was loving and tender at first to express the feelings you both harbored for each other.

"That's good .." he whispered as he broke the kiss. "Because I'm addicted to you too," he added and sealed your lips with his again. You closed her eyes and put your arms around his neck to deepen the kiss. Kurama used this moment to pull you onto his lap with his hands on your hips.

That second kiss wasn't quite so innocent when Kurama took your lower lip in his mouth and sucked lightly on it. You gasped into the kiss, which only encouraged Kurama to send his hands on a little exploration. His fingertips danced up and down your sides as light as a feather as the kiss grew deeper and deeper. Kurama licked your lips, a silent request for admission, which you were only too happy to allow him and opened your mouth for him. The kitsune responded to your cooperation with a deep moan as his tongue explored your oral cavity and playfully challenged your tongue to a fight.

You felt this pleasant heat in your body again and Kurama didn't seem to be completely free from the side effects of this hot make out session either, because something hard poked up from his swim shorts and nudged your buttocks.

After that second kiss broke, you were both a little out of breath and leaned forehead to forehead as you looked lovingly into each other's eyes. Kurama smiled and caressed your cheek before he breathed a third, short kiss on your lips.

"I love you. I never thought I'd ever feel this way, but .. It's true. I love you, [Y/n]. “ This confession made the butterflies in your stomach flip over. A big, happy smile was reflected on your lips, which were swollen from the kisses, and you pulled him close to blow kisses on his cheek and lips.

“Kurama, I love you too. You have no idea how much .. " You whispered quietly and happily. He smirked and grabbed your back to pick your up slightly and change the pose again. You was now astride his lap so your legs were next to his hips and your crotch was exactly on his. This stimulated the passion even more.

"I think I can imagine how much."He replied with a grin and leaned forward to kiss your neck. You threw your head back and gasped excitedly. Since when where you so sensitive on her neck? Kurama liked the sounds you were making in desire and kissed other places on your neck until youb started to moan with pleasure. Bull's eye.

Grinning, he sucked, licked and bit into your weak spot of her neck that he had just found to get another delicate moan from you. Your hands tried to grab hold of his shoulders, but soon they dug deep into his fiery red hair and as you pushed him further and further into your neck.

The sound of the sea waves was a pleasant romantic orchestra while you exchanged tender touches and kisses. It all seemed a little surreal to you. Was that really happening right now? Kurama, whom you had loved and desired for so long, sat here with you. Closely embraced, to the beat of love and enjoying the pleasurable tones of the other.

Kurama's touches were only experimental at first. He wanted to find out how far he could go with you. Even if the two of you had such an intimate relationship with each other before, it was a huge step to become more physically intimate. After all, he always behaved well and like a gentleman beforehand. He had never risked a look when you were changing in his room during a pajama party or today when he made your plant bikini top. Even then he hadn't looked.

So how much would you allow him ...?

His fingers gently caressed your shoulder and traced the outer contour of the tendril top. He felt how goosebumps gradually formed on your skin and smiled. He enjoyed the effect he had on you. Meanwhile, your fingers rested on his neck and massaged the skin lovingly. Although it was just a tender scratching, again a quiet purring elicited from Kuramas lips.

"Do you know that you're incredibly cute when you make such noises?" You smiled and kissed his cheek so lovingly that Kurama wouldn't let you get away with such a lame kiss. He put his hand on the back of your head and pulled your head close to seal your lips in an aggressive kiss. His tongue licked your lower lip after that kiss, leaving a trail of wet saliva down to your chin.

"And you should be careful with what you say, if you don't want me to lose control over my actions." He warned teasingly and sucked again at your weak point until you panted with relish.

"Aa-ah .. I don't think I would have a problem with that, Kurama," you replied, your fingertips dancing down his back, where you carefully scratched his skin with your nails. Very soft. Kurama closed his eyes and grinned. He had never felt so comfortable before.

After you had conveyed to him that he could go on, his hand went to your covered chest. He caressed and massaged your mounds gently until the tendrils were a little annoying. With his yoki, he let the locked tendrils apart and pull back so that he had free access to your bare skin. You gasped in surprise when you felt his hand on your bare chest and now saw how the tendrils gave way to his wishes.

"How convenient."You smirked and looked at Kurama with a grin. "Is that just a coincidence or did you already expect this ability to be useful in this way?" You asked him and earned a sensual laugh from your fox.

"It is coincidence. I really just wanted to help you with the top. But that doesn't mean that I'm not grateful for my ability to manipulate plants, ”he replied with a wink and gently pinched your nipples.

“Cunning fox. I like that. "You admitted and enjoyed the caresses from him. Your hands wandered their way forward and felt his biceps. His muscles flexed under your touch and a deep moan escaped his throat when your fingers now caressed his own nipples. He never realized how sensitive he was there. However, it was also the first time that someone touched him like that. At least in Shuuichi Minamino's body. And his human body seemed to react a lot more to a touch than he had previously assumed. Not that he wanted to complain about it ..

"Kiss me." You demanded and Kurama granted your wish without even a second hesitation. His lips caressed yours lovingly as your hands continued to satisfy your chest areas. Your nipples hardened quickly on Kurama's nimble fingers and the fox took advantage of this to stretch the buds between his fingers and pull them lightly with pressure. You gasped softly against his mouth and used this moment to slide his tongue into your mouth and feel every millimeter there. He tapped and nudged your tongue with his to seduce it into a passionate tango. Meanwhile, you continued to stroke his taut nipples and pinched them until Kurama gave a slightly submissive moan.

You broke away after this kiss when a strip of saliva connected your tongues. Kurama bit through this strip so that his lips could fall back to your neck and he placed loving short kisses on your skin. You were again so red in the face that the color of your cheeks could easily measure against his hair. Even Kurama's cheeks had turned a healthy pink from all these activities. It just looked incredibly cute to see the most handsome man you ever saw flushed and aroused. And the reason for his condition were you. That was really just cloud nine ..

“Kuuuuurama !!! [Y/n] !! “Yusuke's shouting brought the two of you out of your ecstasy and Kurama reacted quickly when he restored your vine top. You reluctantly let go of each other and stood up to wait for your black-haired friend running to you while maintaining a somewhat relaxed composure. The last thing you needed now were more remarks from him.

"What's up, Yusuke?", Kurama asked and cleared his throat after this question, as his voice still seemed rather hoarse and thick. You blushed again because Kurama just sounded insolently sexy and erotic.

“We heard the weather report on the radio and there should be a pretty strong storm tonight. Since Hiei has already felt a change, the storm will certainly start earlier and it will be quite dangerous out here on the coast. That's why I ran as fast as I could to get you back. We'd better seek shelter in the beach house for today. At least until the storm is over tomorrow, "Yusuke explained.

“Even if I don't like to just spend the night in someone else's building, we probably have no other choice. Thanks for the warning, Yusuke. “Kurama thanked him and you followed the black-haired man hand holding until you got to the house. The grill and patio furniture had already been moved inside and the others had already split up in some of the rooms. Yusuke and Keiko shared a room, Yukino and Kuwabara too, Botan slept in Shizuru's room, Koenma and Jorge had to share one and Hiei was the only one who slept alone in a room.

When Kurama and you wanted to go into the last remaining room, Yusuke stopped you.

"Wait a minute," he said and rummaged around in his pocket. You looked at each other questioningly until Yusuke found what he was looking for and grinned. "Here, Kurama," he said and tossed something small, square to Kurama. You blinked and Kurama looked emotionless at the palm of his hand. Now you also recognized what this object was. A condom. "After all, contraception is important."Yusuke winked and disappeared into his room before you could hit him with you shoe.

"Idiot .."You sighed annoyed with a bright red head, before Kurama smiled and put his arm around you.

“But we should be grateful to him for this foresight. I have to admit that I'm not prepared for this kind of emergency, ”he admitted with a teasing laugh.

"Kurama .. I would be very disappointed in you, if you were prepared for something like that.", you answered and Kurama smiled before he gave you a gentle kiss on your lips.

"Let's get a little sleep, huh?" He asked, rubbing his nose against yours as he opened the door and walked into the room with you.

That night, you didn't go beyond the experimental touches in the upper area, but Kurama still kept the condom for the future ~

THE END