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yoongsgguktae · 2 years ago

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paddle with me 02 | jjk

summary; jeongguk needs time to navigate his feelings. he’s strongly attracted to you—that he knows—but the torment you’ve put him through for years is hard to get over. pairing; jeongguk x reader genre; campcounselor!au | e2l | rivals | smut rating; M (18+) word count; 13.7k+ warnings; mentions of alcohol, cussing, outdoor intercourse, unprotected sex, oral sex betas; thank you thank you to @breadoffoxy and a friend of mine for reading through my first and second drafts. and thank you to @cutechim and @hobeemin for reading my outline so so long ago! i cherish you all 💜 a/n; IT’S BEEN 2 WHOLE YEARS, but it is finally here. Thank you for being patient with me, and thank you in advance for reading. I would recommend reading part 1 of paddle with me as a refresher since it’s been so long lmao.

PART ONE MASTERLIST READ ON AO3

—

Jeongguk scarcely notices the images on the canvas, everything is a blur, and the movie is reduced to a low hum in the background. His sights are trained on the poorly hung piece of fabric, but he is too distracted to focus on the scenes unfolding before him. The large linen sheet he is blankly staring at sags against the exterior of the dining hall. Its corners are loose, causing wrinkles to litter the images that dance across its surface, but no one seems to care enough as the camp counselors are all entranced by the movie before them.

They are seated outside watching a film under the clear night sky, another team bonding activity Namjoon likes so much. Yoongi had set up a projector and a surround sound system he brought from home while Hoseok and Jin hung the makeshift screen earlier that evening. The celebratory movie night is well underway with popcorn, alcoholic drinks, and small bursts of laughter.

Jeongguk shifts in his seat, and the bean bag slumps with his change in weight as he moves. He has been harboring a growing boner that has become increasingly uncomfortable under the constraints of his pants. His hand unconsciously passes over his bulge as his imagination runs wild with thoughts of your legs around his waist. He is captivated by the memory of your flowy skirt riding up your thighs as you moved in front of him all day while running the seminars since morning.

He barely focused on the standard discussions about staff policies, camp schedules, and safety protocols. For one, he has attended them for the past few years, and Namjoon insists everyone must attend every year regardless, but he was also aggravated once he learned that you were leading the seminars, the ones he used to do.

He remembered his lips lifted in displeasure as he lowered his gaze to the ground when you stood up to lead the discussions. Jeongguk was close to taking off to get some air, yet after catching your remorseful gaze a few times during your presentation, he realized you were not the problem—it was him. You had apologized, and there was no reason for him to be upset with you when it was not your fault anyway. You were asked to run them this year.

Jeongguk broke from his irritated stupor when you stopped mid-sentence during the discussion to bend forward and pick up your dropped pen. His eyes immediately traveled down your shirt, staring at the exposed tops of your breasts and sucking in his bottom lip as you stood straight. His tiny bit of annoyance faded as quickly as his dick started to harden. His attention had strayed entirely from the seminar discussions before him to lusting for you again.

The movie continues to play on the improvised screen before him, yet Jeongguk is far away. He is lost in his memory of you from earlier today, one that is about you in that skirt you have been wearing. His mouth hangs open, his jaw slack, and his palm unknowingly caresses his erection while zoned out.

Jeongguk comes to, mouth closing shut as he gulps. He adjusts his posture, sitting up a bit straighter while turning his gaze to the right, towards where you are sitting, with a large blanket across your legs. His eyes move up your figure to see the faint outline of a bruised mark on your neck. One edge of his lips turn up as his gaze sets heavy on the hickey, memories of him giving it to you. The sight alone gets him excited.

You are momentarily distracted from the film when you see movement in your periphery. The slight shift catches your attention since everyone has remained motionless, entranced with the film. You do not have to think twice, already knowing who it is. Feeling a set of eyes boring into the side of your face, almost palpable with how unrelenting his stare is.

Eyes never stray from the screen; you focus on the action in front of you. Your attempt to ignore him succeeds when you sense him shift his gaze back to the film. A brief moment of relief washes over you before you suddenly feel it again.

Is there something on your face? Why is he staring so hard? This time you cannot hold back your curiosity. You peer over at him in confusion, meeting his eager gaze immediately.

He raises his eyebrows, lips parting to swipe his tongue across them sensually. Your gaze slips downward to catch the slow movement, feeling a rush of warmth flood your cheeks. You feel weak at that small gesture, your body fully aware of his intentions. Your eyes close momentarily to regroup your senses before you level your gaze back with his. Eyebrows knitted, you mouth a ‘what’.

His smirk grows, the mischievous glint in his eyes more apparent. Jeongguk motions his head with a short nod and his eyes move in the direction of the small shed behind the group. A shed that lays untouched for most of the season until the grass needs to be mowed or when tools are sought out. It sits concealed by some overgrown bushes across the lawn, out of the way, and tucked in the corner of the main campground. A place very few people venture off to.

Your eyes widen when Jeongguk shifts in his seat, doing his best to rise without a sound. The bean bag slides underneath him, and he stands with caution. Not a single person becomes aware of his movements. You two are the only ones playing this dangerous game.

He starts to make his way toward the shed, giving you a sultry wink as he walks past you. Your face flushes once again. He wants you to join him.

Your eyes dart forward to the back of the heads of those in front of you, all too immersed in the film to notice Jeongguk leaving. A slight hint of panic rises in your stomach. You are afraid someone will discover him sneaking off, that he will be caught in the act.

After a few moments, with no one noticing his departure, you slowly get up from your cushioned lawn chair. You do not know where the confidence boost came from, but you have already committed to following Jeongguk’s example. The light blanket in your lap is abandoned onto your seat before you approach his direction with soft footsteps, proceeding to walk across the open field.

A fallen branch snaps under the weight of your foot, halting your movement as you let out a curse under your breath. The untimely coincidence occurred when the movie went silent; such terrible timing on your part. Increased awareness of your surroundings has you still, unmoving, and even holding your breath in case anyone hears. Once the movie volume picks up again, you turn around slowly with your feet planted on the ground expecting to see someone looking your way. All eyes are still on the screen during one of the intense scenes of the movie. You release a small breath and quietly rush towards the shed, not wanting to chance getting caught.

Your shadow bounces off the side of the shed. The movie illuminates a frantic and hurried outline of your movements as you swiftly head toward it. You turn the corner of the structure and make your way to the entrance. The rough texture of the rusty old door handle is hard against your palm. You pull it open while praying the hinges do not creak. With one step inside, your tongue can taste the dust in the air. It is dark and musty, clearly untouched for some time. Your vision starts to adjust to the darkness of the space.

You turn back to face the door, pulling it shut towards you. The hardware latches with a click just as an arm wraps around your front. A small yelp escapes you in shock when a hand snakes under your shirt while the other slams against the door right past your head. “You know, makeup doesn’t do much to cover that hickey of yours.” The words are close to your ears, almost like a shared whisper between two lovers, but the press of his body is aggressive.

Jeongguk has you cornered, his chest pressing his full weight on your back while he pins you against the door. His thumb starts drawing circles on your skin, sending chills up your body, his fingers slightly cold to the touch. In contrast, his warm breath crawls against your collarbone while he noses up your neck.

You lick your own lips, reminiscing how you received it in the first place. “It’s been four days and this thing hasn’t gone away.” The feel of his smile is warm as he drags his mouth over your skin. You continue, “It doesn’t help that you keep attacking the same spot either.” The hot breath of his chuckle makes you flush in excitement. It is almost like a threat, like he wants nothing more than to put you through this agony. He is having fun with this torture he is inflicting on you.

With one hand still roaming your stomach, he brings his other to his lips. His tongue spreads his saliva across his finger as he licks his thumb. Grabbing your nape with care, Jeongguk starts to rub the black and blue area you poorly tried to hide with concealer. This process is repeated before he brings you flush against his front and his mouth connects with the sensitive area once again.

A wince of pain pushes past your lips; he is relentless with his sucking. “I quite like it on you. It looks good,” he states before returning to the same spot after you crane your neck to give him more access, your body inevitably responding to his touch.

The attention to your neck has you light-headed, vision blurry as your eyes flutter shut, and the sensation runs down your body. Your head—clear of any and all thoughts—is full of just him and the feeling of his weight against you. His movements feel urgent and brazen, as if he is trying to prove a point.

Then the faint memory of this morning gnaws at your subconscious momentarily. You had glanced his way the moment you stood up. His jaw was sealed tight, probably from gritting his teeth, and he had cut his gaze from you the moment you locked eyes.

“You know it wasn’t my idea to present at the seminars this morning,” you whisper, “I should have made Namjoon give you the role of presenter since I know you’ve always done them.”

His palms graze along your body, slipping under your skirt, and Jeongguk hears your breath hitch as he reaches the curve of your ass. He gives it a squeeze, a warning to stop talking about it. His lips stop trailing down your neck, “It’s fine.” He focuses on your bare shoulder, lips grazing your tender skin.

“I could tell you were upset.”

Jeongguk huffs and his hold on you tightens, “I was not.”

He does not want to concede to your ridiculous accusations.

“Yes, you were,” you insist.

You push back against his body, and the attempt to get him to loosen his hold on you is futile. He effortlessly has the advantage with his large stature. Then again, the moment he feels your ass graze the bulge he has been carrying, he involuntarily relaxes his hold, letting out a hiss at the contact. Fuck, it is the simple things that set him off with you.

Jeongguk’s large hands spin you around, and your back connects with the door. His head lowers to your height, eyes boring into your gaze, and you cannot help but hold your breath.

“I said it’s fine. Drop it,” he spits through his teeth.

His hot breath fans across your face, and you can feel the annoyance radiating off his body in waves. He is being stubborn again, bottling up the emotions that hinder him from being honest with you. You roll your eyes with a heavy sigh. “You know, you should stop being so uptight and just accept my apology. I’m trying to say sorry.”

“Uptight?” His deep chuckle has the hairs on your arms stand on end. He rakes one hand through his hair and looks away momentarily. The sharp angle of his jaw is more pronounced while he clenches his jaw.

You yelp as Jeongguk suddenly tugs you off the door by your hips, whirling you around to shove you against the adjacent wall. One hand comes up to grab the back of your neck, forcibly angling your head to meet his eyes. “I said to drop it because I don’t care.”

You observe him while he holds you in place. His breathing has gotten more ragged, and you know you are the cause of it because of your persisting attitude. You have always been good at pushing him till he breaks, and you are not stopping now. “You are a terrible liar,” you whisper.

His eyes close shut, lashes fanning his cheeks, and he exhales through his nose. “I swear to God,” he pierces you with a maddening glare, only getting closer. He continues with his lips right above yours, “open your mouth again and I’ll walk out of here. Boner and all.”

The man is trying to have his way with you, and all you are doing is babbling. You need him just as much as he needs you right now, and there is no way you are leaving here without having him first.

Your hands grapple with the front of his shirt and wrench him forward. His lips meet yours instantly, mouths slotting over one another’s in a fervent kiss. The grip along your nape loosens as he winds his digits in your hair, and the stroke of fingertips along your scalp has you sighing into his mouth.

Jeongguk nuzzles his knee between your legs, his thigh coming to sit in the middle of yours, and caresses your clothed cunt as he thrusts it against you. Your needy moan compels him to press even harder, urging more strained pants to fill the tiny expanse of the shed while your tongues continue to entangle.

The cramped space is layered with dust and old grass clippings; it was the closest yet furthest spot to sneak away to without being noticed. There are better places to hook up, but it beats the abandoned outhouse from yesterday. He was desperate to get you away when he laid eyes on your form this morning; the skirt you have on fits your curves just right. He could not wait until the movie ended to have you since he has been restless since the seminars hours ago. The shed will have to work for now.

You let out a shaky breath at the graze of his hand creeping underneath your skirt again. The tips of his fingers skim up your thighs, briefly brushing over your pussy, making you whine until he meets the top band of your underwear. His fingers slip past the material and tug it without effort, dropping it down your legs. Your underwear falls around your ankles, lying discarded on the ground as you step out of them.

He captures your bottom lip between his teeth, giving it a final bite before he breaks the kiss. Your skin feels hot to the touch as he sets his forehead upon your bare shoulder, taking a moment to get air back into his lungs.

With your underwear gone, his focus is back on your cunt. Two fingers dip inside, and he proceeds to coat them with your cream with shallow thrusts before he takes them out to glide them along your folds. “I love the feel of your slick cunt,” he murmurs against your shoulder. Jeongguk parts your lower lips, his middle finger slipping back and forth on your folds, reaching your clit and giving it the most attention.

Your choked hum exhales close to his ear. One arm embraces his neck, and the other holds onto his bicep for support. His smirk grows wide as he feels your body slumping back against the wall, your legs growing weak at the slightest touch on your feverish cunt. He loves to see you fall apart on his fingers.

The heavy pants escalate the moment he dives into your warm center again. One, two, then three fingers pulsate against your wall. He thrusts and curls them at a leisurely pace while your breath hitches. In response, you claw his back, and he can feel your nails digging and dragging across the heat of his skin. Your markings are proof of the pleasure he gives you; he wears them like a badge of honor.

Jeongguk raises his head from your shoulder after placing one more kiss on your collarbone. He slips his fingers out, bringing them up to his lips. Your eyes flutter open when he opens his mouth to receive your taste. Lips sealing around his fingers, he sucks them clean while never looking away.

“So sweet,” he moans around his fingers. He will never stop craving your taste. “Here,” he says, moving to invade your cunt once more, “have a taste.” He plunges back into your warmth, thrusting a few more times before pulling them out.

The tips of his coated fingers lay waiting against your bottom lip. Your mouth opens instinctively to receive them, and Jeongguk’s cock jumps at your willingness to obey his command. He presses down on your tongue, and with lust-filled eyes, he watches you suck yourself off his fingers.

“You love the taste of your own pussy, isn’t that right?” he asks while thrusting in and out of your warm mouth.

You groan in response, eyes closing shut as you slightly gag around his fingers from the force of his thrust. Another jolt runs down his pulsating cock from watching you drool. Seeing the saliva run down your chin gets him hot and needy.

In one swift movement, he pulls away and kneels before you. His knees meet the dusty floor while his hands run down your body and to your thighs. He hikes one leg over his shoulder, letting the balm of your foot rest against the delve of his back as he spreads you in front of him. With a broad hand pushing your hip back against the wall, you steadily balance on one leg underneath his aiding grip.

Jeongguk presses his eager nose against your clit, giving it a small flick with a shake of his head. “You smell,” he inhales your scent with an obscene sound, “fucking amazing.”

A small whimper drips from your lips at the slightest touch. You grasp at the window frame, grip tight to balance yourself while your other hand weaves into his hair to coax him closer. His mouth moves over the expanse of your pussy. Tongue out and flat against your folds, moving slowly up down but never quite reaching your clit on the up stroke. The heat of his breath feels incredible on your skin, and you shudder when he nips your clit with his teeth.

The surprise yelp you release is cut short when his mouth encloses around it suddenly. The cruel way he sucks at the engorged bud places you in a euphoric state. It is impressive how he has learned to listen to your body, knowing all the ways you like to be handled only after a few times being together.

Your grip struggles to keep you steady as your nails scrape against the window sill, leaving marks along the old, weathered wood of the rarely-used tool shed. The wall against your back is stiff and uncomfortable as you slide down the rough surface, no longer able to hold up your weight due to the overwhelming pleasure Jeongguk’s mouth gives you.

“Oh fuck,” you let out.

The buckle in your knee intensifies as you feel the building pressure between your thighs. Even with his aid, standing is becoming too burdensome, and your legs tremble.

Jeongguk takes hold of your weakening leg, tossing it over his shoulder. With his large hands, he grabs both of your plump ass cheeks, hauling you up while he continues to devour your cunt sloppily. You yelp in shock at the sudden change in position. The majority of your weight is held up by his shoulders as your back pushes harder, digging deeper against the splintered wall.

You reach out to the nearby shelf crowded with rusted hand tools while your other continues to grasp the strands of his long dark hair. Your arduous attempt to keep steady is all for naught as his tongue persists. The sounds of his feast echo off the walls of the small shed, and you cannot help but gaze at the sight of him while he consumes your clit.

The small amount of moonlight that shines through the dusty window illuminates his glistening face. His lips, swollen with the labored effort, makes him appear divine between your legs.

Your head knocks back against the wall as your eyes flutter close in ecstasy. The volume of your moans increases with each suction of his hot mouth. Your hips start to move on their own accord, following his rhythm, and you tighten your grasp while you ride on his tongue.

The whines emitting from between your lips halt when Jeongguk abandons his endeavor. His head raises, and his eyes lift to your now open and questioning ones. “You need to be quiet,” he says.

“It’s not like they can hear me,” it takes everything in you not to call him out on his trepidation. For someone who thrives in taking risks—someone who fucked you in the outdoor showers just a few days ago—why is he acting cowardly? The faint noise of the surround sound system blaring the forgotten movie can be heard in the shed. He is being dramatic.

His hand runs up your leg and between your thighs, fingers reaching for your pussy. “Don’t talk back to me when I’m the one on my fucking knees for you,” his stern tone sends a shiver through you while he inserts a finger slowly inside.

You clamp your mouth shut the moment his thumb begins to draw circles on your clit, and you let yourself succumb to the pleasure once again. “Sorry,” you meekly respond before taking a deep breath through your nose. As you settle into his touch, the subtle smell of cut grass grounds you momentarily.

What started as a slow caress picks up pace, and Jeongguk eagerly inserts a second digit. His two middle fingers slip between your folds, his palm facing downward. The pressure of his curled fingers is unfamiliar in the position, yet the sensation has you reeling in a blissful state. Your lips part slightly, and your breath quickens.

All concentration on keeping quiet is gone when your clit is engulfed by the warmth of his mouth again. Caution is thrown out the window as he keeps up a maddening pace with his thrusts, sending you ever so close to the edge. His other hand clamps around the back of your thigh to keep you open.

With your chest heaving deeply, your body begins to unravel, every nerve erupting at once. Your orgasm overtakes you and you cum against his mouth.

Jeongguk moves his lips softly around the clit, to the labia, and around the seeping hole of your pussy. He is gentle with his licks and does his best to clean you up. He sets one leg down, then the other, and watches you slump back against the wall as he gives you time to regroup after the intense orgasm.

“You good?” he asks, rising from his kneeling position.

“Mmhmm, very good,” you sigh.

His bulge is more apparent now that he is standing. He attempts to adjust his hard-on before leaving the shed. Jeongguk steps back and reaches into his pants to fix his boxers.

Your hand reaches out to grab his wrist. “Can I?” you ask.

He stops short at his attempt. Pleasing you and watching you unfold because of him gets him off every time. He did not have any expectations from you, but even he needs his release after something as explosive as what he just witnessed.

“Yes, please,” he says.

He allows you to pull at the strings of his sweatpants, hurriedly untying them. Your fingers slip inside the waistband, circling around his waist to pull them down to rest at his thighs. You start to descend, dropping your knees to the ground before him; however, he grabs you by the elbow to coax you back up.

You glimpse up at him with eyebrows furrowed, mouth slightly open to question him, but he seizes your thighs and lifts you off the floor. Your breath catches in your throat while your arms wrap around his neck at the sudden change in position, and he feels your nails scrape against the skin of his back.

Your nails only deepen as he abruptly spears you with his cock. Your wet center readily takes him in without a struggle.

Both of you grunt in unison when your back hits the wall again. Legs wrapped around his waist, his arms holding you up by your thighs, he rams inside you. The swell of your breasts peeks out from the confines of your shirt, bouncing with every thrust of his hips.

Jeongguk tugs down at the low neck of your shirt, releasing them for his viewing pleasure. With your shirt under your breasts, they are lifted and spewed out. With eyes trained on your bust, the bounce of your supple tits fuels his thrusts.

The shed begins to creak as the force of his hips rocks you. Pulling you off the wall, your hands quickly grab ahold of his shoulder. He turns on his heels, trying his best to concentrate on holding you upright on his cock without slipping out of you. His feet swiftly kick away a hammer lying on the ground while trying to maintain balance as he holds you in mid-air.

“Hold the shelf behind you.”

You loosen your grip around his neck, arms blindly searching for the shelf. Once you grab hold, Jeongguk impales you deeper with no plans of slowing down. The sound of skin slapping and your collective grunts powers his search for release.

Your tits bounce with each forceful thrust. You look mesmerizing with your messy hair, mouth slightly hanging open, and eyes brimming with tears. His hips stutter at the sight of you coming undone on his cock.

“Look at me,” he says. With eyes hooded over, you meet his. “Whose pussy is this?”

“Yours,” you whisper in response.

"Say it louder," he demands.

"Yours!" you shout.

“Fuck,” Jeongguk grunts. His hold tenses around your thighs. “You look stunning… fucked out on my cock like this… absolutely beautiful,” he grunts between every jerk of his hip. He sputters through his own release, warming your center, filling you with everything he had.

He rides out his high with shallow thrusts of his cock, slowly descending from the pleasure. But even so, with his mind clouded with bliss, Jeongguk’s thoughts cannot help but stray to the nonverbal agreement you struck days before.

—

Jeongguk finds himself seated in front of the sweltering bonfire again. It had been several hours since the group returned from the canoe trip and gathered for another round of drinks like the night before. Everyone is a bit tipsy, a few drinks in, and the chatter has increased while the night sky has grown darker. It is only the second day, but it has become the usual nightly routine while campers have yet to arrive.

A freshly opened can in his grasp while he recalls earlier events from the day. It is his third one of the night, and the light buzz in his head tells him he still has a ways to go until he is drunk. The goal is to forget what happened today at the river, at least for tonight—to drown his feelings.

He had witnessed you turn and walk to your bunk while he was trying to get Hoseok off his case. He did not hear from you again until dinner later that night. You sat at the opposite end of the long dining table with wet hair and an oversized shirt, freshly out of the shower. You were ignoring him, keeping your distance, and going out of your way to avoid him. You must have been hiding until dinner was ready because he did not see you for hours.

You were obviously upset at his refusal to talk after returning to camp, but it was not so much a rejection as it was a knee-jerk response to your sudden question. Can you blame him? The hesitancy to trust you comes naturally to him after all you have done. Jeongguk has spent the past few years loathing you. How was he expected to throw away the emotional wound you have left on him all this time over a single hook-up?

Despite that, the somber expression that painted your features hit him like a ton of bricks, sincerity in your eyes that he had never seen before. But he was still struggling to come to terms with genuinely forgiving you. Yes, he told you back at the river that he forgave you, but the white lie slipped past his lips too quickly. Jeongguk was not entirely convinced that you were remorseful of your past actions—not yet.

He breaks from his thoughts at the sound of your laugh.

You are sitting across from him again, with Jimin’s arm across your shoulders this time. The rise in body temperature has nothing to do with the fire in front of him but everything to do with how you are snug against his frame. Jeongguk’s posture becomes rigid at how you two are so casual in front of the entire group.

The pair are laughing along with Jin’s retelling of an interaction with a camper’s parents last year. “She saved my ass! That mom was going to wring my neck because I let her son jump off the high dive,” he explains as another round of laughs erupts from the trio.

Jeongguk stretches the knot in his neck, irritated. He has been ignored all night, yet you easily socialize with everyone around him while continuing to act like he does not exist. One would think he would be used to it after all this time, that he would prefer it this way, but something has changed for him. It stings.

“She should honestly be the one to handle parent complaints. They all love her,” he continues to say about you.

He would usually be irked with Jin’s praise, but that is not the issue tonight. He observes how you lean closer into Jimin's body as you laugh, your hand slaps his thigh, and Jeongguk catches your gaze mid-chuckle. You waver, sitting motionless like you were caught in the act. He scoffs to himself before raising the forgotten can to his lips, the beer still cold on his tongue. What is going on with him?

The way he downs his beer has the hairs on the back of your neck stand straight. Suddenly Jimin’s arm around you feels heavy as Jeongguk holds your gaze over the rim of the can. He lowers it down in his lap again, using the back of his hand to wipe across his wet lips.

His clenched jaw is evidence of the anger you gather is raging within him. This is the moment he would typically stand to leave, to escape. You are waiting for him to get up and storm off, but he stays unmoving, his attention not straying away from you in the least. Your face flushes with warmth, and you avert your attention down to the can in your own hand, flicking the tab to keep yourself busy, focusing on the sound it makes as you drown out the people around you. The sound of their voices becomes muffled in the background.

You used to gush under all the praise, soak it in and flaunt it outwardly on purpose in front of Jeongguk. But things are different now. You no longer want to be in the spotlight after learning how much he despises you because of it. The desire to mock him ceased to exist the moment he carried you into the water after the most mind-blowing sex you have ever experienced.

The way he gently cleaned you, took care of the aftermath of your escapade, had your stomach churn with desire. A desire to be wanted by him beyond a physical way. His act of tenderness made you believe he wanted that too.

But you were left a fool. His rejection hit you hard, a big slap to the face you were not expecting, and took you by surprise. You were, and still are, confused at how Jeongguk has shown interest in you but then seemingly wrote you off when you arrived back at camp. As if it meant nothing.

It is embarrassing to think you gave yourself entirely to a man who expressed no interest in you as soon as reality hit him. You have concluded that he made a mistake, that he probably regrets everything because it seemed like he wanted nothing to do with you afterwards. It is humiliating how you thought he may have wanted more when his actions say otherwise.

Avoiding him since you got back has been your only escape from heartache. You cannot bear the thought of another rejection. The time between now and when you arrived from the canoe trip was spent hiding in your bunk, but then something shifted in you when you laid eyes on him during dinner. As you locked eyes with him, you became angry and irritated. How dare he use you like that and act as if nothing happened.

You sit here now in front of the fire, him just on the other side, and you want to scream and tell him off.

The group around you start to rise out of their seats, pushing you to take a deep breath to settle the rising anger. You did not notice how long you were stuck in your head and how much time had passed. People were yawning and collecting their empty cans; it was late.

“I’ll grab some water to put out the fire,” you say out loud while the others start to head to their bunks. Grabbing the water jug from behind your seat, you walk to the lake's edge. You squat, setting the jug in the still and cold water. The sound of frogs in the distance keeps you company as the liquid spills into the container. The water fills to the brim, so you tip the jug to dump some back into the lake. The sound of footsteps behind you is masked by the sound of the water dribbling into the body of water before you.

You stand startled as you feel a presence behind you, heart hammering in your chest and turn only to find Jeongguk stalking towards you with long strides. Glancing past his shoulder, you realize everyone has left, and it is just you and him. Well shit, there goes avoiding him.

His hands reach out, fingers brushing your grip around the handle. “Give it to me. I’ll put the fire out.”

“No. I can do it myself,” you spit, shaking your head and huffing from the exertion. The jug full of lake water takes a lot of effort to carry, the weight of it heavy under your drunken grasp. You swing it into your other hand, switching arms due to the burden. He reaches for it another time. “No, I got it.” You step to the side and continue walking toward the bonfire.

Jeongguk sighs and spins to your retreating figure. Needless to say, you are struggling with the heavy load, but you are being stubborn about it. He takes steps to reach you and extends his hand again. “Just give it to me,” he says as he grabs your hand. The jug slips from your hold as you yank it away from his reach the moment his skin touches yours. It meets the ground with a hard thud, the water pouring out of the container and into the soil.

He meets your irritated scowl. “Can you fuck off?” you bite in his direction. Your shoulders stay tense as you grab hold of the jug again, heading back towards the lake to refill it on his account. Jeongguk rolls his eyes and kicks at the sand beneath his feet. None of this would have happened if you could stop being so stubborn. He was merely trying to help.

He hangs his head while you walk past him, taking a deep breath before turning in your direction to catch up with you. With his hands in his pockets, he strolls by your side as you return to the fire again. “Why are you being like this?” he questions.

You scoff in return, your steps not faltering in the least as you continue to walk with him beside you. “Why am I being like this?” You return his question with one laced with sarcasm, and he has to hold himself from rolling his eyes again, a quick-witted response on the tip of his tongue before you continue. “Honestly, I’m a little upset that you completely blew me off earlier.” You move the jug to the other hand.

He glances at your side profile, baffled by your accusation as if he did not hear you correctly the first time. “Blow you off?” he stammers. His hands come out of his pockets, raised in the air. “How could you expect me to have an answer so quickly after what happened?”

You two reach the bonfire, the flames' gleaming light across your skin as he meets your glare. “I need time to sort it out in my head first. I don’t know what else you want me to say,” he reasons. He has never felt so conflicted before, and now you think he hates you.

“Well, I don’t know. You responded pretty quickly to my kiss and fucked me without any hesitation.” His face reddens at the statement, involuntary jerking in response to your words. “Didn’t think it would be hard to get an answer from you,” you continue.

Before Jeongguk can respond, he follows the rise of your arm as you lift the container above the flames, tipping it over and allowing all the water to spill over the raging fire. The sizzle of the wood increases as the fire goes out before only minor strains of the dying fire are heard. A cloud of smoke surrounds you two briefly, but your eyes never drift from his.

“You and I both know that wasn’t planned,” he says, looking away while the smoke settles. He clears his throat, aware that you continue shooting daggers in his direction. “We were both caught up in the moment.”

The container falls from your grip, the loud impact startling Jeongguk and making him face you again. You stand straight with clenched fists and ask, “So you’re saying you made a mistake and weren’t thinking straight?”

His eyes go wide momentarily. “No. That’s not what I’m saying at all.” Shit. “I’m saying that I need time to sort out my conflicting feelings.” He winces immediately as the words come out of his mouth. Your eyebrows pinch together and the corner of your lips turn down, the pain across your face evident.

Before he can apologize for his poor choice of words, you cut in. “Conflicting?” you look off to the side, hands coming up to fold in front of your chest. “Whatever. Go ahead and take your time to figure out your conflicting feelings. Then get back to me.” Refusing to hear yet another excuse from him, you sidestep him again and make your way to your cabin, accidentally kicking the empty jug in the process.

His choice of words hurt you, and he should not have said it that way. It made it seem like he was not interested in you, but you were making assumptions about him that were incorrect and unfair. Jeongguk steps around the container, nearly tripping over it as he follows behind you again in a rush. “Are you really going to act like a child until then?”

You turn your body to face him, your feet continuing to move backward in the direction of your bunk. “You know what, Jeongguk,” with your hands raised, “yes, I will. I will act like a child until you figure your shit out.” You spin on your heels and climb the porch of the cabin.

He scurries to catch up, taking the steps two at a time. His hand grasps your arm before you can open the cabin screen door, tugging you softly and turning you around. “What do you want from me?” he huffs, hand running through his hair roughly. Despite his curt tone, his eyes are soft, and the wrinkles around his brows pull together in worry.

“I would like for you to be honest with me, Jeongguk. Your actions tell me one thing, but you verbalize something else entirely.” You can hear the way your voice sounds defeated as you utter what has been bothering you since the canoe trip earlier that day. You have to force yourself not to pout, to put on a false bravado while maintaining eye contact with him.

He looks away, face taut and lips tight before replying, “Our relationship isn’t really conventional, is it? We’re not exactly friends. We’re the opposite, honestly.”

Another stab to the heart. Does this boy not know how deep his words cut you? “Then why did you kiss me back there if you hate me so much?” you sneer, the quiver in your voice apparent, unable to hold it in this time. You curse yourself for showing weakness, briefly shaking your head while gazing down at your feet. Damn him and your inability to keep your emotions in check.

“I’m attracted to you, ok?” He almost yells, his voice intensifying as the confession stumbles from his lips. The air hangs heavy around you two, and you witness him tugging at his brown locks in frustration. He breathes, lowering his voice to continue, “But I don't know how I feel beyond that. I'm still trying to figure out my emotions. It’s not every day that I have sex with someone just for the fun of it. I’m not that type of guy,” he explains.

“You're attracted to me?” you whisper. Your fingers reach for the edge of your shirt, grip tight around the fabric. You must have heard him wrong, tricked by an over-active, sleep-deprived, and twisted imagination. You should feel elated to hear such words from him, but it simply makes your stomach sink.

He furrows his brows. “Well yeah. I thought that much was obvious.”

For a fleeting moment, the panic you have been feeling returns to your chest, and you feel utterly bare, as if he could see right through your facade and that he would call you out on it. You scoff, “Yea, because you saw me naked. Why else would you be attracted to someone like me?”

The memory of your previous relationship comes forth, an ex-boyfriend who made you feel worthless and insecure. But before you can fall back into that dark place you fought hard to escape, Jeongguk steps closer, pulling your attention back to the present.

Your back meets the cabin door as you retreat from his approach. “Can you stop playing stupid?” he spews with hot cheeks and nose flaring. His blood is boiling at your foolish response.

He observes how you look down at your feet, struggling to maintain eye contact with him after what you said. Your vulnerability is strange to witness. In his eyes, you are the most fearless and assertive woman he knows, but to have you standing silent in front of him while making self-deprecating comments in jest has him stunned. This is not like you.

He can see it now, see the hurt he has caused you over how he handled what happened earlier that day. He brushed you off too quickly, and now you have conjured all these negative narratives about his behavior. Since you walked away after returning to camp, you have had the entire night to create this false sense of insecurity for which he is responsible.

He did this to you. He pushed you away.

Jeongguk spans the distance, reaching for your face. One palm cradles your cheek while the other grasps your nape, fingers gently threading through your hair. He angles your head to meet his gaze. His heart pumps erratically in his chest while you grab onto him. Your soft fingers curl around his wrist, and you lean into his touch. “Please. Please don’t talk about yourself like that.” His voice is soft in contrast to moments ago. The need to comfort you, to erase the doubt that runs across your features, is the strongest emotion he has felt towards you yet. This frightens him.

The warmth of his mouth finds yours without warning, making you gasp in surprise. Jeongguk’s hold of your face slides down to your hip, pulling you tight against him as you kiss him back with eyes fluttering shut. Since the canoe incident, he has yearned to taste you, a secret he would never admit to you—a secret he has not even admitted to himself until this very second.

Your desire does not go unnoticed by him as your hands reach for his shoulder to bring him closer, urging your body against his and erasing all distance. Your body's heat feels so blissful that his fingers curl deeper into your skin, making you moan against his mouth. That sound, your sweet and breathy moan, goes straight to his dick. He has never felt so hungry for someone the way he is infatuated with you.

He moves to explore deeper into your mouth, tongue darting out to flirt with yours while he presses you further into the door, his hard cock pressing into your body as he leans into you. Your hand wanders into his long hair as you respond desperately to his kiss with a whine, tugging softly. He deeply groans in approval at every swipe of your tongue on his.

He draws your bottom lip between his teeth before pulling away and meeting your forehead with his, stepping back to give you room. Both of your breaths are haggard, chests rising erratically as you two try to regain air in your lungs. Jeongguk opens his eyes to see yours slowly flutter open, lust swimming in the depths of your gaze.

The certainty that you want him just as bad is evident in the way a mix of sighs and whimpers involuntarily spill from your lips when Jeongguk moves to kiss the expanse of your neck, and you arch your head to expose more of your neck to him. His lips trail down to your collarbone to leave wet, open-mouth kisses. “Can I have you again?” he whispers into your skin as he continues to run his lips along your shoulder.

Your hands meet his firm chest, compelling him to step back. A sudden moment of panic washes through him as you push him away. Did he read your signals wrong? But you stun him when your hand grasps the front of his shirt and opens the cabin door behind you. Your pull on him almost knocks him off his feet before he finally follows your steps inside your private bunk.

—

You cannot help but feel your stomach drop while you fixate on how he hastily pulls his sweatpants over his hips. His large hand moves to tie them in place after laying around his ankles during your hook-up in the shed.

Hook-up.

You must remind yourself that this is all this is—this exchange of your bodies and pleasure is not laced with any emotions. At least, that is what you have to keep telling yourself. After another round of sex following the confrontation a few nights ago, you two have been discreetly meeting for sex almost daily. It was not an arrangement per se. It just happened. Nothing would have prepared you for this. For one—his stamina is incredible, and no one told you how hard it would be to have casual sex without it getting messy. You can see yourself falling but do not know how to stop it.

Jeongguk’s muscles strain as he reaches for his shirt on the floor. He pulls it over his head and pats away the collected dust. You are simultaneously putting your skirt back on and fixing your shirt to busy yourself. You feel self-conscious every time, never knowing what to say after all the dirty things he whispers in your ear as he spears you with his cock. These exchanges are becoming more frequent, yet you still have not figured out how to make it less awkward post-sex.

He finds your underwear hooked over the lawnmower's handle, grabs it, and shoves it in his back pocket before you have the chance to ask for it. You look at him in question. “I’m sorry, do you want to wear your panties that were on the dusty lawnmower?” he asks with a slight grin and one eyebrow raised.

A flush creeps across your cheeks. Returning to the movie without anything underneath your skirt while his load slides down your inner thigh makes your face feel impossibly hot. How his eyes twinkle with mischief makes you realize how much he enjoys this. “It’s fine. I can wear it.” You reach your hand out, waiting for him to hand them over.

He shakes his head, that smile never leaving his lips as he grabs your hand and pulls you to him. His head coming down next to yours and his mouth near your ear. “Raise your leg,” he commands, his hot breath fans your neck. You place your hands on either of his shoulders for balance as you do as you are told.

Jeongguk retrieves your underwear from his back pocket. He plucks away a piece of grass and holds them before you, encouraging you to step into them. You raise one leg, slip it through the opening, and then the other. You feel his hands brush your legs as he helps slide the thin fabric up your thighs, over your ass, then securing them around your hips.

His hand cups your cunt suddenly, long fingers fondle your engorged folds, and you immediately let out a whimper at the touch. “You’re dirty in more ways than one now,” he snickers before pulling back with an even bigger smirk. He turns and heads to the shed door, opening it wide so you can pass through first, but you are rooted in place.

You are thankful for the darkness as you feel your face flush.

“Come on. We got to be back before the movie ends,” he reasons, laughing at your shocked state.

Feet finally moving, you walk past him and through the opening. Jeongguk follows shortly after, shutting the door quietly behind him. With light steps, you two head back to the makeshift outdoor movie theater; everyone is still too engrossed in the film to notice your arrival. You sit back in the seat you had abandoned, picking up the blanket that had since fallen on the ground during your absence. Luckily, an intense fight scene is playing, masking the sound of your return.

Jeongguk takes his respective seat just as he catches Taehyung slightly turning his head to make eye contact with him. The corners of his lips rise, a knowing smirk plastered on his face as he raises his eyebrows suggestively. Jeongguk curses under his breath, the tip of his ears turning red in response. He focuses back on the screen before he glances to see if Taehyung is still looking at him.

He catches his gaze again. This time, Taehyung shakes his head with the same smirk and turns back to continue watching the film. He takes a deep breath, embarrassed for getting caught, yet he is thankful that it is Taehyung, of all people. Any other person would give him shit, probably stop the movie and make a scene.

The film ends, and the clean-up crew stays behind to take down and deconstruct the theater. Jeongguk observes you heading back towards the cabins with Yoongi and Seokjin in tow while he waits to help dismantle the screen. If he is honest with himself, he was hoping you would turn around to mouth goodnight or even a wave, but you continue with the guys and head into your bunk for the night.

A tap on his shoulder grabs his attention, and he turns to find Taehyung creeping close. “So, how long has that been going on?” he asks under his breath.

Jeongguk’s fingers tighten around the fabric, visibly wincing in embarrassment. Again, he finds himself in a predicament that he cannot escape. He glances around him, gauging to see if anyone else is listening or paying attention to them. They are all busy packing away the sound system or moving the chairs back into storage.

“It’s nothing serious. We uh,” he looks around and continues under his breath, “We’re sort of just hooking up.”

“Oh?” Taehyung says too loudly. “It’s about damn time.” His hand comes down to pat him on the back, congratulating him.

Jeongguk folds the sheet in his hands, smoothing it down and setting it on the table. He clears the doubt creeping up his throat. “Yea, but it’s not as simple as you think.”

He has been struggling to understand the way he feels about you. These emotions are repeatedly brought up following your hook-ups; after it is all said and done, he wants more. But that is just it—more of what?

“Hmm,” Taehyung looks beyond the cabins and into the woods, “Do you want to go to our spot and talk about it?”

The tension in his body releases at his words. What a relief it would be to talk to someone about how he has been feeling. Immediately he takes him up on his offer, nodding in response. Taehyung jerked his head toward the direction of a large boulder at the edge of the lake that had become their designated spot. Abandoning his task, Jeongguk follows behind his friend.

The boys take the small dirt path through the woods, a testimony to how frequently they have visited this site over the years. Taehyung walks ahead and reaches the boulder first, climbing up the side. Jeongguk mirrors his actions and sits perched at the top, facing the expanse of the lake with Taehyung right beside him. The camp is no longer in view, the light of every cabin dims between the trees, and they are secluded.

Jeongguk sighs, his hand coming up to ruffle the hairs on the back of his head while he sits crossed-legged. “I’m assuming you know what happened during the canoeing trip four days ago?” He peers over to Taehyung, thankful that the sun has settled, and he cannot see his face flush with humiliation.

Taehyung laughs, leaning on his hands as he throws his head back in amusement. ��Of course I do. That’s all everyone talked about for the next day or two.”

“Great.” He rolls his eyes. Of course, the whole damn group would know about it. Hoseok and his big mouth. He should not be surprised at how quickly the news had spread among the camp counselors. Nothing is kept secret for long.

“Yeah. Namjoon had informed us of his plan to put you two together that morning.” Jeongguk’s head snaps to gape at his friend. “We knew something, good or bad, was bound to happen.”

This was a complete setup. The boys went behind his back and planned this whole thing without telling him. “You couldn’t have warned me?” He looks at Taehyung intrusively and shakes his head as his friend laughs. “Whatever dude. Thanks for the heads up.”

“You never would have agreed to it in the first place. Of course, it had to be kept a secret.” Taehyung sits up. “But hey, looks like it worked out in the end. No?”

Jeongguk stays silent, mewling over the rhetorical question. He cannot deny that things have been going well since then in terms of extracurricular activities.

“Do you regret it?”

He picks up a lone branch off the boulder's surface as he considers the question. The atmosphere around the two is getting more serious now that they’re talking about feelings and all, something Jeongguk has a hard time with. He twirls the branch in his hand as he responds, “No, but it’s more of what happened after that caught me off guard.”

His shoulders slump forward while Taehyung stays quiet, waiting for him to continue wordlessly. He has always been a great listener and never pushes the conversation, which he appreciates.

“Well, first and foremost, she apologized to me. But it was what she said after we got back,” he sighs, glancing at Taehyung before gazing back at the lake. “She asked me where we go from there. About us,” the branch in his grasp snapped in two, “and I didn’t have an answer for her.”

“You left her hanging?”

Jeongguk throws the broken branch into the lake, watching as the ripples race across the surface. “I asked her to give me time because I’m not—or at least I wasn’t entirely over the bullshit she’s pulled on me for the past couple of years. It’s difficult to overcome my hatred for the stuff she put me through. But I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’m attracted to her, that I like the feel of her lips on mine.”

Sounds of crickets, frogs, and the occasional fish breaking the surface, fill the silence as he processes that last sentence. The hairs on his arms involuntarily stand on end as he ruminates about your kiss, how soft and delicate they were. However, he cannot help but feel an unsettling churn in the pit of his stomach.

“The only time we spend together alone is when we're fucking. We sort of agreed to this arrangement in the meantime.” Jeongguk shrugs. “We both have admitted being attracted to one another, and it’s been nice and all, but–”

“To be honest, it sounds like you're leading her on though,” Taehyung cuts in, picking up a small rock and toying with it in his hands.

Jeongguk sighed deeply at the thought. “Yeah, I'm realizing that now. I'm starting to feel like I want more,” he admits aloud, speaking this truth for the first time. He has been struggling with this idea for the past few days. The more time he spends with you, albeit it is typically all physical, he finds himself looking forward to the next time you two get to be alone. This time, not only for pleasure.

However, an inkling of doubt still passes through his mind when he considers what a relationship with you would be like. “I’ve never dealt with someone like her before. Someone who would challenge me. I’m used to people being fake nice to me, using me for my status. To have this girl, who doesn't know me or my upbringing, challenge me in every aspect—it intimidated me, to be honest.” He places his head in his palms. “God, I could never let anyone know about that. People would think I'm weak.”

“No, it doesn't mean you're weak at all. She is intimidating.” Taehyung laughs. “She’s a strong woman, and I think that allures you. It’s what attracts you to her.”

He raises his head, hands passing through his hair before bringing them into his lap and relaxing his shoulders. “Yeah, you can say that.”

Again things go quiet around them, while an owl in the distance hoots in the middle of its nightly routine, Jeongguk ponders on that notion. Perhaps Taehyung is right. Independence and assertiveness are qualities he admires in you. However, it was not like that before. He felt replaced when you first stepped into the picture, and he struggled with his jealousy over the attention and responsibility you took away from him.

Taehyung throws the rock he has been playing with into the lake, inevitably breaking the silence. “You should talk to her soon. Especially before the kids arrive on Sunday.”

“Yeah, I will.” He needs to resolve this problem soon. Things would only get messy once the kids arrived.

Taehyung turns to look at him, meeting his eyes with sincerity. “While we can’t control what memories stick with us or not, we can control what we choose to focus on,” he begins, “We can choose to focus and ruminate about past wrongs committed against us, or we can move on from it and make new memories.”

Jeongguk slowly nods, taking it in. He brings his knees to his chest and looks out onto the lake while Taehyung’s words repeatedly play in his mind.

Taehyung rises, wiping the dirt from his rear and stretching his arms over his head. “Let’s head back?”

Jeongguk looks up at him and motions a hand up to him. Taehyung grips his hands and helps him onto his feet. The pair climb down the rock, taking the same path back to the campsite.

—

Jeongguk finds himself alone in the same spot the following evening, on top of the boulder and eyes fixated out onto the lake as he sits with his thoughts. The sun has long since gone down, and the moon is a tad brighter than yesterday, glistening on the lake’s calm surface.

The counselors had called it a night after an exhaustive hiking trip earlier in the day, and he was the last to get out of the shower. He had made his way to his own cabin to follow suit, but Taehyung’s words rang through his head the entire time he lay in silence, and he felt restless, unable to sleep. He had slipped out of his bunk after tossing and turning for over half an hour before he reluctantly got up to get fresh air.

Jeongguk’s gaze would meet your figure as he observed you throughout the hike. He saw how you interacted with others, in awe of how social and outgoing you are. You get along with everyone around you, this he has always known, but he has been more attentive lately. His stomach fluttered when you approached him and wordlessly shared your trail mix with him; the smile on your face when he accepted your offer made his ears hot.

The small action affected him tremendously, and he has not stopped thinking about it since. He is finding that these types of gestures are easy to appreciate coming from you and that it is not difficult to push aside the past resentment he had harbored for years.

He has often caught himself thinking of the possibilities of your friendship had he not been so envious of you. Many ‘what ifs’ have plagued his mind since last night’s conversation.

Taehyung is correct; making new memories is far more effective than continuing to mull over the past.

The rock beneath him begins to feel uncomfortable as he has been sitting out here for some time and not realizing how late it has become. He contemplates heading back and trying to sleep, but the sound of someone setting a canoe in the water catches his attention. From his position on the boulder, Jeongguk can see the camp’s dock extending far into the lake and witness someone climbing in there.

The person begins to paddle to the center, the movement creating ripples along the water’s surface. Who would be out here this late?

Jeongguk stands, stretching from his stiff position, and begins to head back to try and catch some sleep. Whoever that is must want some time alone, and he does not want to intrude. He clears the woods after walking the path back to camp and glances one more time out to the lake to observe the figure in the canoe.

The moon’s light illuminates your figure; he can see your face more clearly from where he stands now. He stops in his tracks. What are you doing out there? He thought he saw you head to bed after he got out of the shower and that everyone was sleeping by this time.

Curious to know what you are up to, he takes light footsteps towards the dock, where several empty canoes lay anchored in the water. The opportunity to discuss the chaos in his mind, the ones he started to unpack with Tae the night before, presents itself at this moment.

You sit idle in the middle of the lake, a place of isolation and room to think. The temperature is warmer than expected; you expected the air to be crisp without the nightly bonfire. Removing your sweatshirt to get more comfortable, you move to sit in the hull of the canoe and use the piece of clothing as a pillow while you lay back to admire the night sky and mull over the current status of your relationship with Jeongguk.

Relationship? It is nothing close to what you would consider a relationship, more like a nonverbal understanding between two people who cannot openly communicate their real feelings. You know this, and you have acknowledged it, but juggling your emotions around him is becoming exhausting. With every touch of his lips on your skin and the roam of his fingers along your curves, you are falling deeper and deeper into something beyond lust.

Yet, you have never felt so lonely, ironically enough, because he may not feel the same way. It is simply an exchange of pleasure; he probably enjoys getting his dick wet and does not want anything beyond a physical relationship. He never gets too intimate, there is little to no kissing between you, and he never spends the night. An unsettling feeling always drops in the pit of your stomach every time he starts to fasten his pants back on. His boundaries are clearly set without having to be voiced.

Jeongguk’s demeanor changes around others. He typically stays on the opposite end of any group activity, as if he is trying to put the most distance between your bodies when around the counselors. He never sits beside you, walks beside you, and avoids talking to you directly. The limited interaction in a public setting is a big contrast to when you are alone. He is all over you, engulfing you in his stature, and you have his complete and undivided attention.

Sex. That is all it is to him.

It sucks. You want more, and it is starting to hurt whenever you get together, but you cannot seem to stop taking the opportunity to have him at every chance. You do not know how much longer you can take this exchange before you regret ever giving yourself to him, waiting on the day he admits not wanting anything more beyond the hook-up.

“Hey.”

Frightened by the sudden voice, the canoe rocks beneath you as you jolt and sit up, startled. “Holy shit,” you almost scream. You meet eyes with Jeongguk’s familiar, nearly obsidian ones. His lips' ends are curled into a soft smile, suppressing a laugh.

His attempt is futile as he lets out a breathy chuckle. “Sorry for startling you.”

Gripping the edges of the canoe, you pull yourself up from the hull and onto the seat as you collect yourself, trying not to outwardly cringe at your obnoxious screech. The blush across your cheeks feels hot while you glance at Jeongguk, only to see him rotating his boat to sit parallel to yours. He sits opposite you, both on either end of your respective canoes, facing one another in the middle of the lake alone. The moon is high in the sky now, signifying how late it is.

“I wasn’t expecting someone else to be in the middle of the lake at a time like this.” You tuck some hair behind your ear, trying to settle the frantic heartbeat in your chest.

Jeongguk places his paddle down before turning his attention back to you. “I saw you paddling out here by yourself. I thought I’d leave you alone for a bit before coming to interrupt.”

“What are you doing outside your bunk so late at night?” you ask.

He shrugs. “Same as you. Thinking. Clearing my head.” Jeongguk pushes a sigh past his lips, a hand running through his hair.

You nod, looking down at your hands and picking at your cuticles while a silent pause settles between you two. Everything around you goes quiet except for the occasional sounds of frogs croaking in the distance. You wonder what he means by clearing his head and why he seems troubled by it. Is he tired of you yet? The topic of his ‘conflicting feelings’ clouds your mind.

“I think it’s time we talk about us,” he says, breaking the heavy silence.

And there it is.

Your eyes immediately move to him in shock, but you quickly divert your attention to the woods behind him, not able to look him in the eyes. With no audible response, you nod for him to continue while you clutch your sweaty hands.

“I want you to know that I don’t regret that day.” he pauses, a blush creeping on his face. “You know, the day out on the river.”

The hazy fog of your first hook-up briefly passes through the front of your mind; now you are also blushing. Your flitting gaze shifts to your hands, the lake around you, and the camp close to shore—you are looking everywhere but at him.

“And all the times we’ve been together since,” he rushes out his words as if reassuring you.

Your ears feel like they are on fire; you want the world to swallow you at this very moment.

Jeongguk coughs, clearing his throat before drawing a breath that releases the tangled knot of words in his heart. “But more importantly, I want you to know I’ve forgiven you. Forgiven you for all the bullshit.”

Your head jerks in his direction. “I—” you start and stop suddenly as he raises his hand to halt your train of thought.

“You don’t need to explain yourself. You’ve already apologized, and I heard the sincerity in your voice. I’m ready to move past it all,” he explains. “I also acted like an ass towards you, and again I apologize for it.”

“I know. I don’t blame you.”

The relief you feel, you feel like a heavy weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

“Can I ask you something?” you question. He nods, motioning you to continue. “That night last year, when it was just the two of us. Do you remember?”

He nods again. “The last night of camp.”

“Yea.” You pause and look away. Maybe you should not bring this up. Perhaps you are reading too much into it. Your mouth feels dry, and the fluttering feeling in your stomach builds as you contemplate the following few words. You return your gaze to him to see him watching you intently, hanging onto your every word. “Why did you let me in? Telling me about your home life, family, and so-called friends. You hated me, yet you opened up that night.”

Jeongguk regards you solemnly as you go back to fiddling with your fingers. That kind of hurt, being reminded how he openly hated you. “Because I overheard you complaining about your mom earlier that night. I empathize with you.”

That night was when he realized that you’re just a regular person. Beyond his hatred, he could see that you also hurt.

“Oh.”

Jeongguk explains further, “I know what it’s like to have unrealistic expectations put on your shoulders, and I thought it could comfort you knowing you’re not alone.”

With your arms cradling your midsection, you look down at your feet. “And it was comforting. You were comforting that night.”

Your mind immediately goes back to that moment your gazes met while talking. That was the first time his eyes were not full of hatred or anger; they were soft and relaxed. He spent the entire summer sending you scornful looks and scrutinizing your every move, but at that moment—the end of camp—you finally saw him like other people did.

The following few words leave your lips without much thought while you lift your gaze back to his face. “If we’re being honest, I wanted to kiss you then,” you tell him, looking down at his lips quickly and then back to his eyes.

“Yeah, I know.” Jeongguk mirrors your actions and peers down to your lips, ones he has become obsessed with lately. They pinch together in haste while your brows crease together in confusion.

“You knew? What—”

“Because I wanted to too. I just didn’t have the balls to actually do it.” He sees the ends of your lips lift, then he realizes what he said. Poor choice of words on his part. “Shut up.” Jeongguk chuckles.

The curve of your smile rests in a straight line after a few moments of shared laughs. With a small voice, you tell him, “I wouldn’t have guessed with the way you greeted me when I arrived at camp.” You look away for a moment, out onto the lake, before you continue, “I thought perhaps we could have reconnected, but you were so quick to insult me that I thought that night meant nothing to you. That what we shared meant noth—”

The words fail to leave your mouth when he grips the edge of your canoe to pull you forward, dragging you closer to him. Your body jolts, but he grabs your hand to balance you.

“I’m sorry for my brash response to you that day. It was extremely immature of me.” He was trading insults with you not long ago, going at each other with no remorse or sympathy. Now he is holding your hand, thumb gently sweeping along your knuckles. “Isn’t it strange to think that just a while back, we were always fighting?” he asks.

“Like cats and dogs”, you quip, “I didn’t ever think we’d be here like this.” You brush your hair off your shoulders and sit up straighter. He can see your mind running, overthinking like you always do. “Where do we go from here?” you whisper.

This moment feels like déjà vu, bringing him back to the day of the canoe trip. This time, he will not leave you hanging as he did.

“Come.”

Jeongguk grips your hands, drawing you to get up as you shakily stand in your canoe, moving one leg at a time to climb over into his. He lets go of one hand to grab your hips, never dropping your hand as he helps you over by carefully pulling you forward, grip tightening as both your feet land steadily in front of him.

Effortlessly he brings you towards him, craving to have you near. Hands moving down from your hip to the back of your thighs to pull you onto his lap. Once again, he finds you straddling him in a canoe. The hairs on his arms stand on end as you snake your arms around his neck for balance. Your fingers feel cold to the touch, making him shiver in your embrace.

Your body is close but he pulls you closer with his hands on your lower back, fingers moving under your shirt to feel your soft skin. The bit of light shining from the bright moon allows him to gaze into your eyes. The silence is comfortable as the abandoned canoe slowly starts to drift away.

Taeyhyung’s words echo in his mind. Leading you on was never his intention, and he only realizes now that he was doing precisely that. All along, he has been thinking about himself and how he may not be ready for a relationship in his final year of school. His life responsibilities will only grow after graduation. Being in a relationship was at the bottom of the list. The next few years are already mapped out for him by his parents; adding a girlfriend onto that would only serve as a distraction.

But everything changed in a span of days. His routine summer camp job did not start like any other ordinary summer; things were different this time. His priorities have been slightly altered after that incident on the riverbank a few days ago. The idea of a relationship is not so bad anymore.

At this very moment, while your warm breath fans across his face, Jeongguk has arrived at the conclusion that he has come to develop feelings for you—that much he is sure about now. He lifts his hand, fingertips brushing against your skin as he sweeps back a strand of hair behind your ear. Maybe whatever he feels is not seasonal; perhaps he wants to have you this close beyond the few weeks of camp.

You feel butterflies fluttering in your stomach the moment he clears his throat. You have been anxiously sitting in his lap for some time with nothing but crickets in the distance, waiting for him to say something as you were too nervous to speak up.

He is playing with the hem of your shirt, diverting his gaze. “I don’t know what the future holds once camp is over,” he begins, “but for the time being, I would like to be with you.”

A wave of euphoria overcomes your body in an instant. Your heart hammers in your chest while your breath hitches in your throat. This time you heard him loud and clear.

“And I don’t mean just sex. I want to actually get to know you better. Like your favorite color, or what type of music you listen to, or where you—”

You cut Jeongguk’s rambling short by reaching for his face. Cool palms against his warm cheeks to pull his jaw upward, so he faces you, eye to eye. The feeling of his hands shaking against your lower back is obvious, he is nervous. “I would like that too,” you say.

Your hands drop to his shoulders now that you have his full attention. He looks like a deer caught in headlights, eyes big and full while he takes in what you said. You take your time to run your fingertips against his skin, up his forehand, playing with the baby hairs along his hairline.

Jeongguk’s hand clutches your wrist, halting your movement. He leans in and captures your lips. You have never kissed him like this before, soft and gentle. You melt into his embrace.

He pulls away, “Also, I’m sorry for being so possessive over you yesterday. I shouldn’t be claiming your pussy—”

“Jeongguk.” You throw your head back, a loud laugh escaping your lungs.

—

The screen door shrieks as Jeongguk nudges it open. He steps out of your cabin, closing the door behind him while you sleep soundly in your bunk, wrapped under your cozy blankets. It has only been a few hours since you two went to bed, but he wanted to leave your cabin before anyone else woke up.

That idea quickly goes down the drain the moment his feet land on the steps, and he hears the sound of someone whistling from afar. Looking up, he glances at the picnic table across the row of cabins. The rest of the group is already up and eating breakfast together, all huddling and scarfing down food, but their attention has strayed from the meals in front of them and to Jeongguk striding out of your cabin.

He makes his way over, shyly walking with his head down and face hot as they continue to holler suggestive comments. The tips of his ears turned hot with every step.

“We all know you’ve been fucking for the past few days. Yall aren’t as sneaky as you think,” Yoongi says. Hoseok snickers and reaches over the table to high-five him as Jeongguk shakes his head and sits on the bench across from Taehyung.

Namjoon slams his cup of orange juice on the table and points directly at him, trying to suppress the ends of his lips from curling. “Once the kids come on Sunday, you two need to be more discreet about your rendezvous.”

Jeongguk rolls his eyes, grunting and leaning over the table with his arms crossed and head down. This could not possibly get more humiliating. But it does as the group continues with the smart-ass remarks and taunting behavior for the next few minutes.

The chatter around him dies down. With full stomachs and chores to do, the camper counselors get up to start their day, leaving Taehyung and him alone at the table. He peers up to see Taehyung come closer, elbows on the table and leaning forward with one eyebrow raised and a smirk etched on his face.

“I see the talk went well.”

He coughs, pulling at the collar of his shirt with his face and neck feeling incredibly warm. It is hard stopping the corners of his mouth from rising, a smile that he cannot hold back. Yeah, he could say the talk went well—really well, but he’s keeping those details to himself.

Their heads snap in the direction of your cabin at the sound of the door swinging open and then slamming back shut. You take the steps down quickly, feet meeting the ground before you look over to them and meet eyes with him, a small smile appearing on your face as you head towards the dining hall for breakfast.

Jeongguk finally responds to Taehyung's observation, his gaze never dropping from yours. “We’re going to take the summer to get to know each other.”

—

reviews are always welcomed and appreciated. really, i love to hear your thoughts.

MASTERLIST

#jjk x reader #jjkxreader #jungkook x reader #jungkookxreader #jungkook #jungkook smut #bts smut #f; paddlewithme

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nescaveckwriter · 9 months ago

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Don't Leave Me

Dean Winchester x Reader 🐞

Summary: Dean, did the unthinkable, and cheated on you, on your anniversary.

A/N: Oh yay, I'm so excited, not only my first one shot, but also my first one done for the bingo @jacklesversebingo 🐞❤️💕 I'm just so excited to hear what y'all think. Much love my bugsies 🐞

Line: I don't really hate you, but I hate what you have done to us!

Warnings: Angst, A Lot of Angst! 🤔 Sorry about that😱

Word Count: Honestly no idea😱 will check next time🤩

Cover Art: Done by me 🐞 and the pic's from Pinterest and Canva 💕

Characters: Dean Winchester, Mention of Sam, and you❤️

"No Dean" I screamed, tears streaming down my cheeks.

"You don't get to look at me like that" I sniffed

"How could you do this to us?" Anger and sadness visible on my face

"Baby Listen" his voice low

With my hands on his muscular chest I shove him backwards, screaming now, "I don't need too listen, dammit, nothing you say is going to change a thing"

His emerald green eyes, is welled up, "just listen please" barely audible

"I hate you Dean" I say while throwing the ring on the floor

Taking a suitcase from the closet, tossing in any clothes I can find.

"You're leaving babe?" the distraught look on his face, caught you off guard

"Don't look at me like that, its your fault" you shove him out of the way walking to the bathroom to grab your toiletries.

He grabs ahold of your arm, spinning you around, and into his chest, "let me go," making my hands into small fist's, hitting against him, though it's not really doing anything.

His eyes pleading "sweetheart, please just listen to me, it didn't mean anything"

Squinting your eyes, "it didn't mean anything? Don't lie to me, Dean"

"I'm sorry" he claimed

"Yeah, your sorry I found out" I sneered

His jaw clenches, "no, babe, I'm serious it didn't mean a damn thing"

"Great so you threw all of this away for nothing" I smirked

"I was drunk okay! I didn't know what I were doing" his face full of guilt

Laughing a little "that's a lame excuse if I ever heard one"

You can't stand to be this close to him, hearing his heart beating, the way he looks into your eyes, the way his arms is holding you, you always were so weak when it came to him, it always were like some sort of special gift he had, making you putty in his big hands. But not today, not know, not after what he's done.

Trying to get out of his tight grip, you try to shove him backwards again, but he just holds you tightly, his voice revealing the sadness "do you really hate me"

Searching his face, his emerald green eyes, now, almost hazel like. Your voice brittle, tears streaming down my face "No, I... I don't really hate you, but I hate what you have done to us"

He thumbs away some of the tears, letting out a whisper, "I'm so sorry sweetheart"

"Sorry, just sorry, it won't work" you whisper - scream

"Then what will, baby" he asks

"I don't know,! nothing! The day you slid that ring on my finger, you swore you'll never betray me, break my trust, or trash my heart, guess what you did" getting angry all over again now "how could you" and with that you get out of his grip

Realising what he did, he just stood there, not making a sound, just listening to the sound of her crying, crying he caused. "Dammit" he cursed underneath his breath.

Taking her suitcase she walks out of their shared room, right to the door, glancing over the house she called home for the past five years, the memories they shared, the laughter, it's all gone now, in one night, he managed to erase five years of their lives together.

Dean runs towards her, "Baby wait, just stay, it's 3 in the morning, you can't drive like this" concern in his husky voice.

Glaring at him, "don't act like you care, if you did, you would have known, what yesterday was"

Dean, looks at her puzzled, following her eyes to the kitchen, he's jaw dropped when he saw the kitchen table, set and decorated for two, candles, placed with champagne flutes, and a bottle that was supposed to be on ice, a freshly baked pie in the middle.

"Babe, I'm"

"Don't finish that sentence, I'm so sick and tired of your sorries," I warned.

"I can't believe I was so naive, yesterday when you didn't show, I called Sam, he said as far as he knew you went for a drink, the case you worked on hit you hard, I was afraid you had to much to drink, and maybe gotten in a accident, but to my surprise, I found you with that... that, woman, her arms wrapped around you having a good time, how the hell could you do that to us, to me?" I screamed

"Babe, it meant nothing, I love you"

Tears flooded down my cheeks "no! Dean! You do not love me" you mumbled, "goodbye Dean"

"Please baby, don't go, don't leave me" he pleaded

He grabs a hold of your wrist, but you shake it loose, almost running towards your car, hearing him say something in the distance, but you reply with a shout "don't you follow me Dean Winchester" and with that you started the engine, put it in drive and drove off

In your rearview mirror, you see the man you loved, still love, standing there distraught look on his face, the blurriness of your glazed up eyes, makes it hard to focus on the road ahead, but you just drove further anyway, not wanting to stay there, the way he made you feel, the hurt, pain and betrayal is just to much.

Seeing taillights of her car, is just one too much, how is he going to fix this, why did he do what he did, "what am I gonna do" throwing a punch in the air.

He just stood there in the pouring rain, watching as the love of his life, went further and further out of his reach.

That's when he heard the tires screeching on the wet road, and then the heart wrecking loud noise, he just some how knew it was her. He ran, he ran as fast as his legs could carry him.

"Noooooo!" Screaming as he got closer, her car hanging over the road barrier, "Baby," he grabs ahold of her hand, her face bloodied, her legs pinned, her eyes, bloodshot from the crying, "Dean" she whispers with pain. "I'm here sweetheart, don't leave me, I love you" a half smile on his plum lips. With the closing of her eyes she whispers "I love you too Dean"

#spotify #jared padalecki #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #jensen ackles x reader #sam and dean #benny lafitte #castiel spn #dean winchester imagine #eileen leahy #bugsies #d nesca #oneshot #bingo #SoundCloud #jacklesversebingo23

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thedastrash · 1 year ago

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WIP Wednesday!

Now that my exchange pieces are waiting for Arlathan and Templartations reveals... time to pull out some huge WIPs I've been ignoring and see if I can poke at them until some plot falls out. Here's a chunk of Varric that I like, but I'm not sure where it lives yet. Tags below the cut as usual.

Wind howled over the Frostbacks, piling snow drifts against the windward side of every building in Haven. The tent Varric had been given was surprisingly large which meant it was also drafty. He was able to set up a small table and a stool within the canvas walls, but the wax wasn’t enough to keep out the wind. Snowflakes blew in under the walls, wind threatened to whip his papers out from beneath his quill, and his fingers grew numb from the chill.

Perhaps that was enough writing for the evening. Placing his work away carefully, where snow couldn’t dampen its corners, he pulled on his leather jacket. Not the best for the weather, but he didn’t get a chance to pack up when he was forcibly hauled out of Kirkwall on a death march to this frigid rock. At least it was his favorite jacket. And it had nice runes. Thank you Sandal.

“Fucking mountains. Nothing but ice and death,” he grumbled to himself as he pulled his gloves on. He braced himself, but the wind when he opened the tent still made him clench his jaw. All his warmth seemed to evaporate from beneath the collar of his jacket and his ears immediately felt raw and miserable. He should find a scarf, or maybe a hat, from the supplies, but his dignity wouldn’t let him. He’d rather be fashionable than warm.

Cassandra stood like a statue in the training yard, watching Cullen work with the recruits. This was her fault really. She’d kidnapped Varric from Kirkwall and interrogated him for days. He made sure she knew it too.

“Nice weather we’re having,” Varric quipped from behind her.

Cassandra didn’t even flinch, though she couldn’t have heard him approach. He was far too stealthy to be caught out like that, even in the snow. She turned her head and merely grunted her agreement with a slight furrow to her brow. Always suspicious, the Seeker.

“Couldn’t the Inquisition hole up on a beach somewhere? I hear Rivain is lovely this time of year,” Varric tried again.

Cassandra wasn’t having any of his good humor today. “You are free to go.”

“I will hold those words dear,” Varric laughed. “How I’ve longed to hear them from your lips.”

A small noise of disgust came from Cassandra’s throat before she stalked off to speak to Cullen. Varric wondered if she was staying warm through sheer stubbornness. Her armor seemed better suited to a lower elevation, less ice, more bodies on the ground. Maybe her wrath kept her warm.

Varric made his way into the warmth of the chantry. Appropriate to have taken over a chantry for the dubious organization of the Inquisition. The fires were banked low, but the sheer number of people inside helped warm it up considerably. The air was moist with evaporating puddles and the breath of huddled people in conversation. The camp had been fairly jolly after the last success on the Storm Coast. The Chargers had cheered things up with their irreverent celebrations and their get shit done kind of attitude. The Iron Bull and company were Varric’s kind of people - loud and drunk and bloody. It made him miss Kirkwall if he didn’t keep busy.

#wip wednesday #varric tethras #dai #da2 #dragon age

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5sosfanfictioncatalogue · 6 months ago

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Artist!Luke Masterlist

Aquarelle (ao3) - antisocialhood michael/luke N/R, 3k

Summary: Michael was slow fucking into him, taking his time to build a pace that would ultimately drive Luke nuts and probably give him the best orgasm of his life

Brush Strokes (ao3) - falloutmuke michael/luke M, 667

Summary: luke has autism with a love for art. michael is an artist with a love for luke.

do you wanna touch (yeah) (ao3) - kingscrossinseptember luke/calum G, 1k

Summary: Calum always had trouble knowing what a normal amount of time was to look at another person, so when his brain kicked back into gear, he quickly dropped his gaze to his shoes, realized that was probably too obvious, and then darted his eyes around the aisle until he settled on staring intently at the rows of paintbrushes sticking up in front of him. Hopefully the pretty stranger was too focused on whatever errand he was running to pay attention to some weirdo fondling brushes. Alas, luck was not on Calum’s side.

every now and then the stars align (ao3) - merlypops luke/calum E, 3k

Summary: Calum gets in trouble a lot, Luke's had a bad life, and Calum would do anything to keep him safe. Anything at all.

if i knew from the start, would it change a thing? (ao3) - acetominophen luke/ashton N/R, 35k

Summary: “All I painted was you, Ash. It was always you.” But Ashton wasn’t listening to him at all. His silver-lined eyes were trained on the hand-written words at the bottom of the canvas, unblinking.

Luke’s gaze followed his and his lips parted because shit, he’d forgotten. He’d forgotten that he’d titled this one.

‘Poisoned myself again. LH’.

Artist!Luke Cowboy!Ashton

if my wall clock tells me that it's 4 in the morning i'll give it hell (ao3) - crankgameplays luke/ashton N/R, 1k

Summary: basically writer!ashton with a small case of lukesomnia and artstudent!luke who also cant sleep and he draws ashton a lot okay its not his fault the boy has such a nice face, he /has/ to draw it.

Line Work (ao3) - ashtonhours (heartandmindxx) luke/ashton, michael/calum M, 21k

Summary: Ashton Irwin, 07/07/94, no known medical conditions and not under the influence of drugs or alcohol – and originally from Sydney, as it turns out – is looking to get a bird on his neck.

“A California condor,” he says for about the twelfth time, “on my nape.”

a story about boundaries, trust, and a line in the sand.

no you don't need to be careful (ao3) - xieagle luke/ashton, michael/calum N/R, 3k

Summary: ashton irwin hasn't spoken in a large number of years. he works in the coffee shop his foster parents own, and is constantly dealing with the idea that no one will ever truly understand and accept him.

luke goes to university, studying art. he loves going to the local coffee shop to find a caffeine boost and to meet his friends, michael and calum, the two he is rather jealous of. he says it's a good boost for his muse, but never says why.

Paint Me (ao3) - @daydadahlias (cornflowerblue (daydadahlias)) luke/ashton E, 17k

Summary: “Holy shit, hold on a minute,” Calum says, “is that who we’re supposed to be drawing?”

“I can’t draw him,” Michael gawks, “I’m not a Goddamn renaissance painter.”

Or, the one where Luke is an art student practicing realism for a month and Ashton is the nude model in his portrait class.

twink boy bottom erotica. (ao3) - badomensbaby luke/calum E, 13k

Summary: in which luke agrees to be calum's model for his photography project.

#5sosfanfictioncatalogue #5sos fanfic #luke hemmings #au #artist #artist!luke #artist!luke masterlist #painter #painting

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simphibians · 4 years ago

Photo

One Fo(u)r All CAS CHALLENGE @madeofcc

i was tagged by @kirsta-sims!!

Rules: Create a sim or choose one you like then create 4 alternative versions of this sim. You can’t change the body presets/face details/eyebrows. But you have to change everything else in order to create four other sims with the same base.

i tag @simblrz @buildbuymode @lemonpxel @rubyhours @dagdagsims @haunted-mint @strangepixels @mangogarden @sulanii @boogey-studios !!

feel free to ignore this if tagged! i didn’t check if you’ve already done this ;p

also i saved this base just in case someone wants it for any reason???

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someonestolemyshoes · 3 years ago

Note

Yo, saw your post about levihan prompts:

How about Hange discovering Levi’s secret hobby (of your choice)

Feel free to do whatever you feel like

And I love your work! 💕 have a good day

Hello! So sorry for the delay in this one, but thank you so much for your patience 🙏 I got stuck for such a long time in the middle of this ksksks but it is finally done! I also played around a little bit with the whole...discovering a secret aspect, but I hope you'll enjoy it anyway! And I hope you're ready for some sweet sweet childhood friends levihan~

Levi likes photography.

This, in itself, is no great secret. Hange can barely remember a time he wasn't following after her with a camera strapped around his neck, or packed into his bag—always within reach, should something striking catch his eye. A little neon plastic toy, at first; each click of the shutter cycled through preloaded images, expert shots of famous landscapes, places they could only dream of seeing. And then, a polaroid—still a toy, in essence, still plastic, still gaudy, but this one took real pictures in real time, and spit them out into their eager, shaking fingers within seconds.

Hange remembers them ruthlessly wafting the little laminate squares and watching with bated breath as black mottled into foggy grey, as the blurred silhouette of the park bench faded slowly into being. It was a fascinating thing, at the time. Magic at their fingertips. The picture turned out fuzzy and overexposed in places, where the sun had glared in over the corner of the park bench, but Levi had settled the little square on his little palms and looked at it like he held the whole world in his hands.

There were innumerable disposable cameras, too. Light little things with reels of film, never enough for Levi's insatiable desire to snap pictures of every single thing he saw. They spent half their childhood in the chemist, sitting in the hard plastic chairs, wriggling anxiously as they waited for the film to develop. Kuchel always handed them the envelope, fat with prints, with a small smile curling the corner of her mouth and a fond twinkle in her eye, and Levi always took it politely, while Hange gave a boisterous thanks, and the pair of them delved greedily into their spoils.

He was older, in his early teens, when he was gifted his first real camera. It was heavy, compared to all the others, a case made of metal with buttons and gadgets and a fancy screen on the back, to preview each picture he took. Levi was wholly enamoured with it. He spent hours adjusting it, figuring out what each button and knob did, how they affected each picture; took countless shots of the same rock in the park until he'd tested every combination of settings he could think of.

He had cycled through more cameras since then. Grown a small collection, each one a little different, a little more suited to particular shots. Hange understood the concept in theory, but the particulars were lost on her, and Levi never took the time to explain. Not that she minded—Levi's pictures were beautiful, breathtaking in the way he could capture even the most mundane details and make them something wondrous. Perhaps for the first and only time in her life, Hange had no desire for the magician to reveal his tricks.

He has an eye for things that Hange simply cannot see. She is observant—to a fault, at times, intensely analytical and endlessly curious. Everything is a question, an opportunity to research, to learn, but she doesn't see the way Levi does.

Wild daffodil. Narcissus pseudonarcissus. Hange sees a perennial flowering plant, native to Western Europe, classified by its pale yellow petals and elongated central trumpet. She sees phylogeny with a rich taxonomic history; subspecies originating all over the globe, some larger, some smaller, some more vibrant and some more muted. She sees anatomy, science.

Levi sees the way the evening sun rusts the buttery petals until they blush; sees the way dew drops hang like pearls from the tips of the leaves in the early morning, when the light is still smoky and thin. He sees a moment to be captured.

It should be impossible for a picture to hold so much detail. Hange can look at Levi's daffodil and feel the way the spring wind blows gently on her skin, the sun warm but the breeze a little biting, a remnant of the fading winter. She can smell the pollen heavy in the air, feel the tickle of short grass on her ankles, hear the trill of songbirds in the branches of distant trees.

His proclivity for photography grows with them. Hange's interests spear out in a thousand different directions, from physics and chemistry to botany, to engineering, to literature and mathematics, to history, languages and landscapes—life is a limitless source of information and Hange chases it every which way, insatiable.

And wherever she goes, Levi dutifully follows, with his camera in hand.

Until now.

Now, they are eighteen. The summer is lazily drawing to a close, and tomorrow, at 8:45am, Hange will be boarding a plane that will take her to the other side of the world to attend the university of her dreams.

And Levi will be staying here.

Despite Levi's perpetual scowling and indiscriminate grunting, their last evening together had overall been a pleasant one. Levi and Kuchel had worked hard on their meal, and it had been nice in a warm, filling kind of way, to spend her last night at home with the two of them.

Now, she and Levi are holed up in his bedroom, while Kuchel had insisted on doing the clean up herself. Hange's mind has been churning non-stop for weeks now, ramping up with each passing day, and tonight, her thoughts are unstoppable, and they spill from her with giddy, jittery excitement.

"The university is huge, but my course is pretty small—only like, 30 places. It'll be easy to get to know everybody."

"Nn."

"And did I tell you? There's a museum right on campus? They've got a huge collection, and I heard students can access it after the first semester."

"Hm."

"And there's a flower garden, too—they've got species from all over the world, Levi. They'll have plants I've never even heard of."

"You said."

"Oh! And—my accommodation isn't all that far from the coast. The water looks beautiful in all the pictures I've seen—look, see?"

"I know. You showed me already."

Hange looks up from her phone, where the screen is lit with a bright, sunny beach, tan sand and a stark blue ocean. Levi flicks his gaze over it and offers a noncommittal shrug of his shoulder. Hange frowns at him.

"You could at least pretend to be excited, you know."

Levi gives her a deadpan stare.

"It looks...warm."

Hange sits back with a thump, and kicks weakly at Levi's shin. She pouts over at him. "Better than nothing, I guess."

They sit at opposite ends of the window bench in Levi's bedroom, legs tangled haphazardly together in the space between them. The window was thrown open in some vain hope of tempting in a breeze, but the air is thick, and the soft wind that does blow is still stiflingly warm. It sways Levi's fringe against his brow, but does little to stave off the oppressive heat.

The sky outside is dark, but it is alive with stars. They cast bright sparks on an inky black canvas, and there is no moon in sight. Already, Levi has snapped pictures of it, twisted dials and pushed buttons and switched lenses until he was satisfied.

It is a beautiful sight. Infinite.

Hange lets one leg dangle out the open window. Levi gives her a sour look and wordlessly closes one hand around her other ankle. She has a long history of behaving carelessly—Levi has borne witness to one too many slips and stumbles to trust her entirely. It would be just like Hange, to miss her flight in favour of a trip to the emergency room.

His thumb strokes back and forth absently. There is a callus there, rough and catching, that scratches against her sensitive skin.

Her predominant feeling is one of excitement. Studying abroad had been a dream of hers for almost as long as Levi had owned a camera—to travel beyond the bounds of their small rural town, to see more, learn more, fuel the relentless hunger in her. But there is an undercurrent of something else, some squirming discomfort that refuses to settle. It intensifies with every sweep of Levi's thumb against her skin until it sits heavy in her gut.

She looks over at him. His gaze is trained out the window, a small frown furrowing the skin between his brows, but his eyes are glassy, with none of their usual sharp, unwavering focus. Whatever he is looking at, he is not really seeing it.

It would be a lie to say that his silence had not troubled her. He had been quiet throughout dinner, opting instead to listen to Hange and Kuchel's companionable chatter as he pushed his food around his plate, and he had barely said a word since they had cleared the table and retreated to his room. He had hardly even looked her way.

Irritation bubbles within her. Levi is always more subdued than she is, content to sit quietly while Hange babbles endlessly, about anything and everything. But he usually has something to say. His silence, today of all days, makes her angry. They have one night left like this—one more night to talk, face to face, before they will be separated for who knows how long, and Levi is offering her nothing.

"Levi," she says, before she can think. Something in her tone must startle him, for he blinks rapidly, as though pulled out of a daydream, and rolls his eyes to look in her direction. His gaze settles somewhere near her shoulder. She bristles. "Can you at least—"

"Levi?" Kuchel's voice is distant, floating up from the bottom of the stairs. Levi looks at the door instead. "Can you come give me a hand for a minute?"

Hange clamps her jaw shut. Levi casts her another sidelong glance, and ticks his tongue against the back of his teeth. He squeezes her ankle once, then pushes himself to his feet. "Don't fall, idiot. I won't be long."

Hange feels distinctly like a child on the verge of throwing a tantrum. It's immature, and perhaps it's unfair of her, but she had assumed that Levi's invitation for dinner might, at the very least, come with a little conversation.

She takes a deep, steadying breath. They never fight, not really—they bicker endlessly, poke each other's cheeks and pull each other's hair, childish rough housing that they never grew out of. But they don't fight and as grumpy as Hange feels about Levi's near silence, she doesn't want to start now. She runs a hand back through her hair and sweeps her eyes about the room, counting long, even breaths as she does.

Levi's room is immaculately neat and tidy. Everything has its place, on clean, dusted shelves, or stacked in straight, neat piles atop his desk. It is a level of organisation Hange has little energy for; she herself is a hurricane, picking up and dropping off detritus everywhere she goes.

But Levi's borderline obsessive cleanliness makes it easy to spot something that is out of place.

Hange's gaze falls on a drawer in the desk. The drawer itself is as immaculate as everything else, gleaming wood and a reflectively polished brass handle. What catches her eye is the corner of a glossy piece of paper, caught when the drawer had been closed.

Hange is a curious creature. Rarely can she hold herself back from exploring an unknown, and now is no different. She unfolds herself from the bench and stretches to stand, then crosses the room on light, tip-toed feet.

Levi is, by and large, a rather private person. He does not share much of himself openly, hides behind an impassive mask, guards what is dear to him close to his chest. Hange is an exception to this rule, whether Levi wanted her to be or not.

As such, she has no real issue prying the drawer open, and is unsurprised by the predictable contents within.

Photographs.

Of course it was photographs.

Her lips tug up in a fond smile and her eyes roll, but it is as she is reaching in to flatten out the rumpled picture that had been poking out of the drawer, that she notices what they are photographs of.

Her.

Hange picks out a stack and sits cross-legged in the desk chair. She flips through them, eyes growing wider with each new picture she uncovers. Every single one is of her. Some recent, some not so recent—some must be from the very first real camera, for she is still in her braces, all thin, gangly limbs and scruffy hair and taped up glasses.

There are pictures of her in the winter, mitten-clad hands wrapped around a paper cup of hot chocolate, blowing steam into the chill air. She can see in stark clarity, the red tip of her nose and the chill bitten over her cheeks; she can almost feel the cold, taste the cocoa on her tongue.

She finds a picture of her from an autumn years gone by. She remembers it as though it were yesterday—they had spent the whole afternoon raking fallen leaves in the courtyard behind Kuchel's cafe, scooping them into a terribly tempting mound beneath the shedding tree. Hange had been unable to resist. Levi had captured her moments after her dive into the pile, sitting up with her weight propped back on her hands, dry leaves clinging to her messy hair and sticking to the fibres of her cardigan. The sun was low, and it cast her in a golden glow, highlighting the vibrant red and orange of the fall foliage around her, drawing out the auburn undertone in her hair and the amber of her eyes. Her smile is almost blinding.

Another shows her in the spring, laying on her belly in the long grass beside a row of blooming daffodils. There is a book spread open before her and she is, as expected, engrossed in it; Levi has snapped the shutter as she was turning the page, the thin edge of the paper caught between the delicate tips of her fingers.

Hange has never considered herself to be particularly pretty. She is just...Hange, a little bit of wild, a little bit of manic, a lot of clumsy and dirty. Being attractive has never been of much concern.

But there is something in the way Levi has photographed her, time and time again, in the way the light catches her, the candid ease of each new picture, that looks....beautiful, in its own way. Somehow, he has made her mess into a masterpiece.

Levi likes taking pictures of things. Plants, rocks, rivers, landscapes and skylines—he likes capturing the mundanity of everyday life and turning it into something spectacular, but he has never done the same thing with people. As far as Hange was aware, Levi had taken very few pictures of anybody at all.

And yet, she holds this pile in her hands, and there are plenty more pictures littering the drawer before her.

There is a strange feeling brewing on her as she stares at them. She had been so excited about moving away to study, so eager to explore the world beyond their quiet countryside home, that the reality of leaving had never truly sunk in. She feels it now though, acutely; a hollow ache in her chest that grows with each picture she flicks through.

Levi has been her shadow for as long as she can remember. There are few memories that he is not a part of, few moments that she can recall in which Levi was not by her side—he has been a constant for her. Something certain and dependable.

And from tomorrow, he will no longer be there.

Hange had known this. She had known it from the moment she had accepted her offer, and she had known it as they looked through her options for accommodation together, as they explored the local area through pictures and videos and maps online. She had known it as they had prepared her visa, organised her finances. Booked her flights. Every step of the way she had understood, logically, rationally, that studying abroad meant leaving Levi behind.

But the weight of it is only hitting her now. The reality of it is like a slap in the face, a punch in the gut—it leaves her shaken and breathless in the worst way.

From tomorrow, Levi won't be with her at all.

Her grip tightens on the photographs hard enough to wrinkle the glossy paper.

She had done a pretty good job of not getting too emotional about the whole thing. For the most part, Hange had been overwhelmed by her own excitement—there had been no time for sadness between all the loose ends she’d had to tie up in order to make the move a possibility. Now though, all that is left is to head to the airport and board her plane. No more distractions.

Hange doesn’t realise she is crying until the bedroom door opens again, and Levi steps into the room, coming to a sudden halt halfway over the threshold.

Hange can't tell if Levi's look of shock is because of the open drawer and the pictures still clutched in her hands, or the tear tracks on her cheeks. He stops dead in the open doorway, fingers still curled around the handle, and for a moment he stares at her with eyes wider than Hange has ever seen them, but then his brow dips low and his lip curls, and his grip tightens around the door handle. Hange holds the pile of photographs close to her chest.

She is expecting anger. She doesn't suppose she could blame him if he lost his temper with her, then. She has a terrible habit of bulldozing into everything, after all, and perhaps this was the one thing Levi had longed to keep secret from her. Her snooping, on top of his already sullen mood—perhaps this is the final straw.

But instead, he turns his face away, staring resolutely into the corner of the room. Starlight spills through the open window. Even in the thin, muted light, Hange can see a vibrant flush colouring the skin high on Levi's cheeks.

Hange sniffles, and wipes clumsily at her cheeks.

"I didn't have you pegged as a closet pervert, Levi," she says, waving the handful of pictures at him. Her voice comes cracked, and weaker than she'd hoped. Levi's knuckles turn white.

It's a funny thing, seeing Levi embarrassed. His emotional expression is usually limited to small twitches, here and there—a slight furrow of his brow, a wrinkle of his nose, a soft twitch of his lip. Hange can count on one hand the number of times she has seen his feelings show so completely. It's almost painful to witness.

"I don't mind," she says. Levi doesn't look at her. Hange looks down at the pile again. "They're nice."

Levi finally releases his death grip on the handle and pushes the door closed. His eyes are still downcast and his cheek is still cherry red, but he hasn't run away and he hasn't snapped at her (yet). Hange takes these things as good signs.

"I didn't know you took pictures of people," Hange says.

"I don't."

"Are you saying I'm not people, Levi?"

Levi lets out a disgruntled sigh. He crosses the room, and plucks the pile of pictures from Hange's hands. His cheeks are still pink, and his brows are still furrowed, but he has composed himself some.

“No, you’re not,” he says. “You’re a creature. You’ve got snot all over your face.”

Hange laughs wetly, wiping her nose with the back of her hand and rubbing the mess on her pants. Levi gives her a look of pure disgust, parking his hip against the edge of the desk beside her and skimming through a few of the pictures. There’s a curious expression on his face, a softness in his eyes that Hange isn’t used to seeing.

“Stalker,” she says. Levi kicks at the desk chair without looking up. “If you wanted a photoshoot, you could have asked.”

Levi scowls. He straightens the edges of the pictures with care, and sets them carefully on the desk. “If I wanted to take pictures of you posing, I would have asked.”

“Wanted to capture me in all my natural glory, huh?” Hange braces her elbows on the desk and rests her chin in both hands, grinning cheekily up at Levi. It must look ridiculous, with her watery eyes and the red point of her nose, but Levi isn't even looking at her to notice.

Levi says nothing. His gaze lingers on the pictures for a little longer, and the colour in his cheeks deepens. Hange nudges him with her elbow, smiling. The pictures are...sweet, in a way. There's something flattering about it. She slumps back in the chair, her smile wavering where a fresh wave of melancholy tugs at the edges of her lips.

“I’ll miss you, you know.” Hange’s voice cracks humiliatingly as she speaks. Levi looks over at her. Hange curses the wobble of her bottom lip and wipes at her eyes beneath her glasses. She isn’t expecting much; Levi is terrible at expressing feelings at the best of times, and so it’s more than surprising when, after a moment of consideration, he nods at her.

“Same.”

Fresh tears spill down her cheeks. Hange presses her fingers into her eyes, trying to stem the flow, ease the sting there. She doesn’t want to spend their last evening together crying, but now that the tears have begun, Hange can’t seem to stop them. A lump builds in her throat, aching beneath her tongue and she can feel her chin wobbling, lips pulling down at the corners. She sniffles pitifully, draws a shuddering breath.

“Oi…” Levi says, though he doesn’t sound angry, or even uncomfortable like she had expected. His tone is gentle. It rips a sob from her.

Hange feels him move closer. He jostles the front of the chair, and when she opens her eyes to look at him she finds him standing right in front of her, between chair and desk, looking at her with a furrowed brow. It’s different to his usual scowl—his brows are a little upturned in the middle, exposing some kinder emotion; something like worry, or concern.

Hange tilts forward until her forehead presses into his chest. Levi’s hand comes up quickly to the back of her head. His touch is familiar, comforting, and Hange cries a little harder when his fingers tunnel into her messy hair, cradling her against him.

She cries until she feels spent, sniffling and gulping empty air. Her fingers twist into the hem of Levi’s shirt as she composes herself, mumbling, “you’ll keep in touch, right? You won’t forget about me?”

Levi clicks his tongue at her. “Stupid,” he says. “As if you’d let me.”

“I’m serious.” She sits back and looks up at her. Her eyes are burning, raw and wet, and the skin of her cheeks stings from crying, but she looks at him with as much determination as ever and says, “call me. Every day.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“It’s not! Just once, every day. Even if it’s only five minutes.”

Levi flicks her between her brows. “You won’t have the time, dumbass.”

“I’ll make time.”

Levi scrutinizes her for a moment, then says, “I’ll text.”

“Well, yeah, obviously.”

Levi curls his lip and pulls at a lock of her fringe, muttering, “brat. Why don’t you call me?”

“I will,” Hange says plainly. Levi’s eyes widen a fraction. “I’ll call as much as I can. But you need to call me too, okay? I wanna hear from you a lot.”

There is a long pause, and then Levi turns his eyes away. The light in the room is pale and muted, but it is just enough to highlight the pale flush gathering anew on his cheeks and across the bridge of his nose. It’s almost cute.

“Fine. I’ll call. Happy?”

Hange grins at him. “Very. And I’ll send you photos of everything, all the time.”

Levi leans down towards her, pinching her nose between his thumb and forefinger and giving her head a little shake. “On your shitty phone camera?”

Hange nods. She bats his hand away and cranes herself up into his space, smiling something wicked. “You’ll hate it. They’ll be all blurry and I’ll have my thumb in the corner of every picture.”

“Pest.”

“Lots of selfies, too. So you won’t forget what I look like.” Hange blindly swipes up a picture from the desk, holding it up between them in front of her mouth and nose. Between Levi dipping down into her space and Hange stretching up into his, they are so close that Levi has to cross his eyes to get a look at it. “Not that I think it’ll be a problem.”

He rolls his gaze up to look at her over the top of the photograph. Up close, Hange can see just how bright the blue of his eyes is, how dark his lashes are; she can see the shadows they cast on his cheeks, the deepening flush bruising the skin red. Levi has always been a pale thing, but now, Hange can see the smattering of light freckles across his nose, barely visible in the low light. He looks pretty. Her heart stutters in her chest at the sight.

Hange has never fully understood Levi’s drive to photograph everything. To preserve any given moment, bottle up every minute detail. She sort of understands it, then—it’d be nice, she thinks absently, to save this particular view for forever. The thought makes her face grow warm.

“I won’t forget.” Levi’s voice is quiet, caught somewhere between embarrassment and uncertainty. He sways closer, rocks back, hesitates. And then he leans down and lets his forehead drop against hers. Hange can feel the press of his nose against her own, separated only by the picture between them.

Hange is used to being close to him. She’s a clingy person by nature, always grabbing him and hugging him, smooshing her cheek against his or shoving her face into his hair, but she is always the one to initiate such contact. Levi is tactile, in his own way—small, non-invasive touches, his fingers on her wrist or his palm at her back, always delicate, understated.

To have Levi enter so wholly into her space like this is new. It’s nice. Hange finds herself feeling very, very thankful for the paper between them, for the urge to lean forward and kiss him comes unbidden, so suddenly she isn’t sure she’d be able to resist the impulse if there hadn’t been a barrier in her way.

“Is it my dazzling good looks?” she says, acutely embarrassed by how breathless she sounds. Levi makes a small, noncommittal noise. His fingers find hers where she’s holding the picture, gripping it and pulling it until it slips out from between them. For the smallest moment, Hange feels the skin of Levi’s nose against hers, and the warm puff of breath on her lips, and then Levi straightens up, flipping the picture for her to see it.

“I’ve looked at your ugly mug every day for long enough. Don’t think I’d forget it so easily.”

It’s a truly unflattering photograph. Hange has her head tipped back, laughing boisterously at some thing or another, with her eyes pinched closed and chocolate sauce smeared over her lips, a drop of cream stuck to the end of her nose. Hange is sure she has looked better, but the thing is—despite her state, the picture still isn’t bad. Hange can hear the lilt of her own laughter and feel the tacky syrup, savour the sweetness of the cream on her tongue. There’s something so...animated about it, about the way the light dances over her skin and in her hair, and the way the background blurs around her, drawing her into sharp focus.

It’s nice, in a strange, unreserved kind of way.

But she’s still a mess. Hange snatches it and slams it down on the desk, glowering up at Levi.

“Why would you take that,” she whines, petulant. “You’re supposed to take pictures of nice things!”

“Because it’s very...you,” He says, neatly slotting the pictures back into the drawer, and moving back to sit on the window. Hange follows, drops herself onto the ledge opposite him with a pout.

“What, disgusting?”

Levi shrugs. “Messy. But...not bad.”

“I’m supposed to take that as a compliment, I guess? That’s almost sweet coming from you, Levi.”

Levi scowls over at her. She dangles one leg back out the open window, dropping the other heavily into Levi’s lap. He adjusts it until he is more comfortable, his hand wrapping again around her ankle, but does not let go once he has settled. He keeps a hold of her, his fingers tracing thoughtless patterns on her skin. The space between them is warm, comfortable. Hange leans her head back and breathes it in—the peace, the quiet, the simple pleasure of spending a tender evening with her favourite person in the whole world.

It’s nice. A small, frightened part of her doesn’t want it to ever end.

Hange has been set up in her student apartment for three weeks when the package arrives.

Moving had been harder than she had anticipated. She’d accounted for common issues—problems with her visa, her plane tickets, and had checked multiple transport options from the airport to her accommodation in case problems arose—but she hadn’t put all that much thought into what would happen once she settled at her apartment.

Unpacking had been boring. Her roommates were nice enough, the studious, bookworm-y type, but unlike Hange they weren’t overly sociable. They kept mostly to themselves in their rooms, perfectly content with brief conversations in the kitchen before retiring again, and with classes still two weeks away, Hange was finding the lack of social interaction difficult. She had explored some, but the city was vast in a cluttered, claustrophobic way. Hange had always enjoyed travelling, and had talked relentlessly of every adventure she could take herself on in a whole new country and all the new places she could explore, so much so that it was almost embarrassing, the way she had found herself so unwilling to stray too far from her accommodation without a companion by her side.

She’d felt a little homesick in the first couple of days, lonely and isolated. She missed the small comforts of the country, things she hadn’t even realised she had taken for granted. Quiet nights. Star studded skies. Long grass and trees and the fresh, earthy smell on the breeze. The city was unbearably loud at times, and even when the wail of sirens or the beep of car horns quieted, there was an unidentifiable hum beneath it all that never ceased even for a moment.

She felt Levi’s absence most acutely. Hange had known she would, but she hadn’t been prepared for how much it would hurt to be apart. She felt silly for it—it was ridiculous, to miss her friend more than she missed her own family, even. But Levi’s presence had been more constant than anything else, back home, and without him, she felt like a small part of herself was missing.

He called, as promised. Once a day, though oftentimes it was very late in the night for him, and he sounded tired. If Hange were less selfish, she might tell him to get some sleep instead—but she missed him. Hearing from him was the best part of her day.

It was about an hour before their designated call time when the post came. Hange answers the bell with a frown, which only deepens when the delivery driver hands her the package.

She takes it into her room, settling cross legged on the bed and inspecting the mystery item. It's a decent size, like a large shoe box, wrapped neatly in brown paper with her address lettered in tidy, familiar handwriting in one corner. Hange’s stomach lurches—she’d have recognised the writing anywhere, but her suspicions are confirmed by the return address. Levi’s.

She rips into the paper quickly, snatching up her keys to tear through the tape on the top of the box. It is stuffed full with packing paper, an envelope with her name on it sitting on the top. Hange picks it up and with trembling fingers, she opens it and unfolds the short note inside.

Hange,

Sorry things have been kind of shitty. This stuff might help or it might make things worse, but I figure you can just throw it out if it’s no good. Or give it away. Whatever. I don’t even know if all of this shit will make it through customs, so if you get an empty box it’s not my fault.

I don’t get how you eat half this junk, but I hope it makes you feel better, anyway.

Look after yourself. Eat real food.

Levi

Hange presses the note to her chest, grinning. Her heart aches, but having Levi go to this much trouble for her...it feels nice. Knowing he is still thinking of her. She’d never have admitted it out loud, but Hange had been concerned that perhaps Levi would forget about her after all, without her there to pester him all the time.

She pulls out some of the packing paper, and smiles widely at the rest of the contents.

Levi had put together what Hange can only call a care package. There are packs of her favourite snacks and sweets, things she’d complained she hadn’t been able to find in stores here; crisps, chocolate, hard candy, little mini boxes of sickeningly sugary cereal. There are tea bags with blends Levi knows she likes, each neatly labelled with instructions on what temperature to brew at and how long for. Levi had also packed some of the soaps Hange likes, the ones he uses but she refuses to buy for herself. The lavender scent drifts up out of the box and Hange’s heart squeezes tight in her chest. There’s a shirt in there, too—Hange recognises it at once, as one of Levi’s old, worn tees, thin grey cotton that feels impossibly soft in her hands. It’s far too big for either of them, and had always been the go-to item Levi would chuck at her when she decided she was staying over for the night and had nothing to wear to bed. Hange pulls it on quickly, savouring the soft feel and the smell of it.

In the bottom of the box, there is another envelope. This one is thicker than the first, and Hange knows what it contains before she even opens it.

Photographs. A small pile of them, depicting places she and Levi had frequented from when they were children right up until this last year—her favourite part of the forest, where the trees thin out and the river pools at the foot of a small waterfall. The great, open fields, sometimes full of long grass, sometimes clipped short and striped with windrows. Kuchel’s cafe, with umbrellas raised to block the sun on the tables outside, or else warm and low-lit and cosy in the cold winter. Hange settles back on her pillows as she flicks through each picture, a soft smile on her face. Looking at the images of home hurts, but it isn’t a terrible pain—she longs for these old times and these familiar places, but each recovered memory makes her happy.

In Levi’s pictures she can vividly recall moments in each and every location. He works some kind of magic with a camera, to trigger so many sensory memories—the scent of freshly cut grass, the feel of hay, dry and sharp, poking into her back through her clothing, and the gentle trickle of the river water, the splash of it as it runs over the falls, the feel of it cool on her skin. The tangy zest of fresh-pressed orange juice in the cafe, peach fuzz on her lips and the soft flesh of ripe fruit bursting between her teeth, sticky nectar coating her fingers.

Hange looks at each picture in turn, until she reaches the bottom of the pile, and there she stops abruptly, eyes widening at the last photograph Levi has packed for her.

It is one of Hange, taken in the window of Levi’s bedroom. She was looking out at the night sky, her elbow braced on her bent knee, chin in her palm, a small smile lifting the corner of her mouth. The starlight haloed her, shining from her hair and illuminating the jut of her chin, the curve of her nose and the slope of her brow. Behind her, Levi had captured the bright glow of the stars like jewels on a deep velvet canvas. She looked peaceful. Happy. For lack of a better word, beautiful.

Hange grins widely. Her eyes sting and her throat aches, but the picture—the whole box, really—makes her happier than she's felt in weeks. She brews her favourite cup of tea from the blends Levi had sent her and settles into the corner of her bed, lifting her phone to snap a quick selfie. She sends it to Levi, complete with a caption: thank you for my presents 😊 all ready for your call!

Levi responds almost immediately, first with a simple you're welcome. And then, after a minute, you look good. Speak to you soon.

Hange sinks deeper into the cushions, cradling her tea close to her face, masking the pleased flush on her cheeks with the heat from the steam.

Hange keeps him longer than usual, today.

There is a simmering warmth in her stomach as she listens to Levi's voice over the line. It comes tinny through the speakers, low and rough in the late hour, and his dark, grainy image looks tired, lamp light casting him half in shadow. They talk of everything and nothing, same as always—Levi tells her about his day, about the cafe and Kuchel, and Hange pouts as she tells him how little progress she is making in befriending her new housemates. Levi never voices any concern for her aloud, but Hange can sense it in the dip of his brows as she talks. She gives him a genuine smile when she reassures him that classes will start soon, and she's confident she will settle better after that.

Levi seems reluctant to leave, but after a little over an hour of aimless, comfortable chatter, he is yawning and blinking heavily, the lower half of his face nuzzled into his pillow. In the end, Hange makes up some watery excuse about visiting the coast while the sun is still high, if only to let him get some sleep.

"Sure. Have fun."

"I will! Sleep well, Levi."

Levi hums. The view shifts, blurry and indistinct, the mic muffled by the rustle of sheets, and when everything settles he is laying on his side, fringe mussed and falling over his eyes. He covers another long yawn with his fist. "I will."

"You'll call tomorrow?"

Levi rolls his tired eyes, but the corner of his mouth pulls up in a fraction of a smile. "Sure."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Hange grins. Levi watches her for a long moment, eyes scanning over her face. Then he holds up a hand in a tired wave. "Night, Hange."

"Night."

Hange stares at the screen for too long when the call ends. That terribly selfish part of her would have loved to keep his company for the rest of the day. Maybe, with a little travel sized Levi in the palm of her hand, she'd have been brave enough to explore some more, enthused about all the new things to see with somebody to share them with.

Sighing, Hange drops her phone to the desk and stands from the bed, stretching. There are still things she can do—she has plenty of recommended reading to get through, a small mountain of books at her disposal, and she has mapped the route to her campus often enough that she isn't feeling too overwhelmed by the prospect of the journey.

As she heads for the door, Hange notices something on the floor beside the bed. A neat, rectangular piece of paper; one of the photographs Levi had sent her, laying face down on the ground.

She picks it up again and brings the paper close to her face. Levi had written something on the back of it in small, quick letters, less tidy than his usual practiced script, as though he’d scribbled it as an afterthought, or else that he wasn’t sure he really wanted her to read it.

There is a date, the same night she had found Levi’s secret photo stash, followed by Hange’s name, and the location of the shot. And beneath that Levi had scrawled a few words. Hange squints to read them, and then her eyes grow wide, blinking owlishly down at the note. Her heart swells almost painfully and something solid balloons within her chest, squeezing the air from her lungs. Her lips tremble into a smile as she props the picture carefully on the bedside table.

The day is still young. Hange brews herself another cup of Levi’s tea and settles on the bed with one of her books, content to spend the next few hours reading—though she finds it strangely difficult to focus, with the words Levi had written on the back of the photograph swirling round and round in her head. Hange doubts they will leave her any time soon. They left her feeling more homesick than ever, but there is a soft, giddy kind of comfort in them all the same. It's a feeling that Hange will savour for as long as she possibly can.

It's weird here without you. Come home again soon x

#ask #levihan #my writing #snk #the way this has kicked my ass for hjkjhg MONTHS #I'm so sorry for the delay but thank you so much for the prompt!!! I was so excited to work on it #and I'm glad I finally got it finished :)#sorry it once again got incredibly out of hand length-wise #drabble my ass

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glowinggator · 4 years ago

Text

Infinity

Summary: You look at the stars with your boyfriend, Donatello.

Pairing: Donatello/Reader

Content Warnings: None! Unless you get freaked out by the concept of infinity. It’s honestly just a lot of space talk <3

Word Count: 1103

Infinity: It’s a concept that mortal minds can never truly grasp. The sheer size and quantity of infinity is incomprehensible, and for good reason. It’s a word that should not be applied lightly, considering how grand it is. So, when one considers our known universe and its nature to constantly and infinitely expand, one should have a healthy respect and admiration for it’s magnitude. Stars, living and dying in radiant throes billions of light-years away, litter the night sky like paint on a black canvas. How loving the stars must be, to share their light and love with us, so that we might admire their beauty from galaxies away. Do creatures from neighboring galaxies look up at their own night sky and see our sun? Do they value our star as much as we do theirs? Do they write myths and legends about the night sky with as much love as our ancestors once did? You smile to yourself. The universe is so vast, so uncountable, and… gorgeous.

The chilly wind of New York bites at your exposed skin and you instinctively curl further into your lover’s side. Although, you grin to yourself, it probably benefits him more than it does you. You pull the thick woolen blanket up a bit higher as you allow your hand to dance over the scratches and grooves in his plastron. A scar here, a scar there, and countless natural faults and ridges. You wonder how many scars are from battle and how many are from accidents in the lab. He hums quietly to himself as he looks up at the infinite stretch of sky, and you feel a sense of wonder and love for the man beside you: you've never felt so at home.

"See that little cluster, next to Draco? It has one really bright star, but the others may be harder to find." Donatello asks, pointing up at the sky. You search the sky for the cluster, gazing through his hand. You hum affirmatively when you find it: It sits just under Ursa Minor and next to Draco. Seven primary stars twinkle dimly in the constellation, making it somewhat hard to make out. One star, however, shines brighter than most every other in the sky, which makes it easier to find.

Donnie traces little patterns on your shoulder as he starts to speak once more. “That’s Cepheus. It’s one of my favorites.” His voice is uncharacteristically soft, almost as though he were afraid of shattering the silence.

“What’s the story behind it?”

“Well, the myth says that Cepheus was once the King of Aethiopia. He was married to Cassiopeia, which is to his left, and was the father of Andromeda, who is also immortalized as a modern-day constellation. I’ve always preferred the myth of Cassiopeia, but the stars in Cepheus are what makes it one of my favorites.”

You smile: That’s your Donnie, alright. You look up at him with a grin and a twinkle in your eye. “Tell me about them, babe.”

He chuckles, “I was really hoping you would say that. God, where do I even start?” He kisses your forehead quickly, thinking of what to say. “Alright,” he begins, “See the brightest star in Cepheus?”

“Mmhm.”

“That one’s called Alderamin, or Alpha Cephei.” “Sounds like a wizard name.” “I know, right?” He chuckles, “It’s about 49 light-years away, and it’s one of the brightest stars in the sky. It’s a white class A star currently evolving off the main sequence into a subgiant- probably on its way to becoming a red giant right about now. It’s much bigger and far brighter than our own sun, and it rotates incredibly fast. What I find most interesting about it is the fact that it’s a source of X-ray emissions, which indicates significant magnetic activity. And that’s not really typical for rapidly rotating stars. Oh, and in a few thousand years, it’ll be the new North Star.”

“Our North Star changes?” He hums, “Yes, but not in our lifetime. The last time Alderamin was the North Star was… around 20 thousand years ago? Don’t quote me on that. But right now, it’s Polaris.”

“Oh, cool.”

“Mmhm,” he yawns, blinking his eyes firmly. He rubs at his eyes with his free hand before putting it back behind his head.

"Sleepy?" You whisper.

"Nope," he says, popping the P. "I never sleep."

You giggle, "Uh-huh, keep telling yourself that, D."

"Shush. Anyways, the stuff inside Cepheus is even cooler: Alderamin is just an… important feature. NGC 188 is an open cluster, and it's the closest open cluster to the north celestial pole. One of the oldest-known open clusters, actually. But you know what the real 'star' of the show is?"

You snicker. "Shut up. What?"

"S5 0014+81. It's a distant, compact, hyperluminous, broad-absorption-line quasar, or as I like to call it, a blazar.” He pulls his free hand out from under his head for a moment to wave it around - presumably for emphasis. He’s always been one to talk with his hands, after all. He continues, “In layman's terms, it's a supermassive black hole. It’s 40 billion times the weight of our sun, gives off light 25 thousand times brighter than every star in the Milky Way combined, and is undeniably one of the most powerful objects in the observable universe." He finishes his sentence with a quiet breath, leaving you with a sense of wonder.

You breathe a sigh of awe, staring intensely at the center of the constellation. The universe is… incredible. You absentmindedly trace patterns on your lover's chest as you let the information sink in, and unbeknownst to you, he takes the time to look down at your form, smiling at the way you subconsciously seek out contact with him. And in return, he traces his own patterns along your back, tracing a map of the universe in sensations along your spine. When you tear your eyes away from the cosmos to look at him, you smile.

His face is lit by the light of the moon, casting an almost heavenly glow upon his features. His eyes shine beneath the all-consuming cosmos, as though they were lit by the light of an entire galaxy. Perhaps he’s descended from the stars themselves, you muse.

“Hey,” you whisper, “I love you.”

“I love you too, hun.”

And when your lips meet, you swear that you can understand the light given off by a supernova, and the radiance, light, and love that comes with it. For if there’s anything truly infinite on this small, infinitesimal planet, it is the love that binds you together.

#tmnt donatello x reader #rottmnt Donatello x reader #rottmnt x reader #TMNT x reader #rottmnt imagine #donatello x reader #donatello hamato x reader #tmnt imagine #an open love letter to space to turtles and the incomprehensible concept of infinity. donatello if ur out there..........MUAH <3 a lil kissy

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notnctu · 4 years ago

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sugar | s.j ❀

━ listen to: sugar by brockhampton

❀ johnny suh x fem!reader ❀ genre - smut, angst, fluff? ❀ details - fwb!au, kinda unrequited love? who knows lol, sweet love makin ❀ word count - 2k ❀ synopsis - he’s always a call away, ready to love you when you think no one else will. and this will be the one time you ask him to spend the night because johnny suh is the only sweetener you need in your bitterness.

❀ a/n: hello its author doie❀! its based off of the song sugar which is one of my favs ever so i hope u enjoy this smut, rlly this was just me avoiding explicit words lol ps i have never laughed harder in my life when @legendnct (ily hannah) asked me if i was J O R N Y when i told her i was writing this at 4am

The honey dripping, rush of candy goodness, and sugar high of a man --- Johnny Suh. He’s like walking on sunshine, no other cares in the world can harm him, and with a bright happiness that promises anything worth fighting for.

He stands six feet tall of sunflowers that turn up to the clear blue skies and soak up the positive energy needed for growth. Johnny Suh, the man that has sugar addicts craving for a slice of his attention; Johnny Suh is the epitome of goodness and virtue.

And the puzzling, estranged question of why you are his subject of sweetness is beyond any galaxy and he’d never tell a soul his reason behind his many dazed gazes, or if they even had much meaning to them. Johnny Suh is the one boy that wears his heart on his sleeve, but holds your’s at his fingertips.

There have been many countless encounters of long and, some unfortunately short, nights of sleeping with bodies that only add to the list of people you’ve kissed. But to have consistency in that aspect? Quite hesitant, to say the least.

While you are able to tolerate a random one night stand with no necessary remembrance of the individual’s name, to give your vulnerability and consistent attention to one person is asking for too much. A flawed characteristic of yours is falling in love too easily.

The hookups are meaningless, quick fucks to fill the evening and rid the irritable desire of lust. The muscles involved exclude the heart because there is no opportunity to fall for someone if you are only going to part ways right afterwards.

Yet, the one remarkable night with Johnny turned into several nights which led into your current relationship with the glowing sun. The one thing you had wished to steer away from --- a friend with benefits.

There was no metaphorical gun to your head, you weren’t forced to sign a contract, there were no ridiculously restrictive rules. No boundaries to hold you back.

When there is no fencing around the edge of a cliff, is that grounds for people to free fall? Regardless, your lack of self control and demising loneliness had you jumping and falling into Johnny’s comfort. The golden boy is someone hard to come by, and you’re not foolish enough to turn down this once in a lifetime chance to be intimately acquainted.

But as you continued to see him, there was an unconscious decision to stop your other random flings. It felt like you already had someone to fulfill the ache, someone to spend your nights with. If you needed him, he’d be there. So, unknowingly by choice, you made yourself exclusive to him, even though Johnny did not decide to do the same.

That shouldn’t bother you, right? But it does. The worst part is that it’s no one’s fault but your own. Johnny’s harmless actions affect you because your feelings allow them to. As much as you ignore the fact you two are nothing more than friends with benefits, the annoying drumming of your foolish heart reminds you of your denial.

While you’ve always had a bitter palette, the dash of sweetener never hurt anyone. He never hurts anyone, with his best efforts. And the intent should have been made clear, that your nightly hookups are an unhealthy coping mechanism. Too much sugar has your glucose levels derailing and seeking out the one person that lights up your endorphins.

The love for Johnny stems from his warmhearted character. His bubbly, goodwill nature that has him overextending himself for people who take him for granted. An extroverted, head-turning personality that you can’t despise and look away, instead are easily attracted to.

Johnny is kind, he’s thoughtful, yet entirely complex as a human being with a fair share of cloudy days. He is simply someone you want to get to know because he makes the atmosphere a safe space and he reads like an open hardback book.

Everyone has a small crush on him, it would be a complete tyranny of your feelings to deny it. Some infatuations are bigger than others and you’ll shamefully admit that you fit under this group of individuals.

On another lonely night, you wonder if he’d be at your will and call, if he would drop the world to come make you feel better. One moment, you are staring at his contact name and imaging the deep voice answering with his signature greeting. The next, you’re actually hearing his voice on the other end of the receiver and panic settles as it’s too late to cancel the call.

“Hey baby, what’s up?” The nickname sends a crown of hearts swirling around your temples. However, he sounds rushed, like he had been in the middle of a strenuous activity.

A nervousness has stammered words falling from your lips, and you’re too incoherent for even your own mind to understand. Johnny chuckles lovingly, and the slight rustling that distorts the background has you imagining that the phone is pressed between his cheek and shoulder. “Collect your thoughts, babe. I’m ready whenever you are.”

A heavy notable sigh erupts into Johnny’s ear, but he doesn’t pull away from the device. He’s all ears, attentive and patiently waiting for you to speak, despite having company on his bed.

“I need you. Can you come over?” If only pride wasn’t so hard to swallow, the question would have flowed much smoother. As if your heart grew hands, it chokes your throat from the inside and you’re preparing yourself for the rejection.

Truthfully, he isn’t obligated to come and there have been rare nights where he declines your offer. But your hope holds onto the slipping strands and the tension of your nerves have fists forming and eyes squeeze shut.

Johnny takes a fast peek at the girl already in his sheets, mindlessly and effortlessly scrolling through her social media. There is a hint of sadness in your voice that he can’t let go and while that’s usually not entirely uncommon, he can tell it took a lot for you to call tonight. So, he finds himself pulling up his sweats and a clean shirt over his head.

“Be there before you know it.” And the clench in your throat relaxes, along with the other parts that had your nails digging moon crescents into your palm and wrinkles forming at your tight creases.

And with a sweet goodbye, he hangs up the call and politely offers to take the girl home as he makes his way over to your place. And you’re dosing yourself in puffs of fruity scents and cleaning up the runny mascara around your under eyes.

With no words exchanged, Johnny knows every way to heal you and dawn a warmth that coats your darkest corners. All you have to do is open the door and let him in. His strength has you lifted from the ground, lips hungry to devour your softness.

A few fumble steps, he reaches your room at ease and gently lays you on your neatly made sheets. Johnny is consistent, no missed beats when it comes to loving you, and without a fail, he always takes a moment to himself to step back and admire your beauty. And your priceless shyness is also an added delight to the scene.

Each article of clothing is discarded and left at different areas of your small room, kisses lining your worst parts to you, but the best parts to him. When you can’t love parts of yourself, Johnny loves them for you and makes you whole.

“Were you in the middle of something?” It did not become aware to you of the possibility that you had interrupted something else, or someone else. And even if Johnny did choose to see you over spending time with them, you have the decent courtesy to make sure he is okay with his decision.

“Nothing important.” You’ll never be able to read him or notice any lies he tells. His smile is enough reassurance, and your question is quickly forgotten when his fingers dive into your wet flower. He uses his thumb to soothe circles around your growing bud, making your whole lower half blossom with trembling ecstasy.

His lips leave soft reminders to love your thighs, your legs, to not overlook their importance: they carry your graciousness into new ventures. Then, he pushes them wide open as he bends your left knee and your right dangles over his sturdy shoulder. The tight grip on your hip is bound to leave marks the next morning, along with the dark love bites he leaves across your canvas.

But his thoughts are focused on the meal ahead, your sugary juices coat the plush of his tongue. He remembers exactly how you like it, where melodic sounds hit the silence in gasps or groans. He suckles, he licks, he kisses your bead in a speed that has his brown locks tangled in between your fingers.

He drinks up more than your wetness, but also the pure image of your fucked out expression and the twists of your reacting body. He wants to surpass your limits, max you out until there isn’t a hint of melancholy in your tone anymore. To remember, to remind, to recall your happiness through heightened pleasure.

At the announcement of your high, he enters your spasming hole with rubber already on and groans at your walls squeezing around him, which halts him in place. However, the dragged movement of his length hits your sweet spot, your orgasm prolongs into a rapturous euphoria and you’re no longer in control of your body.

Johnny’s toned arms hold you close to him. The chemistry in your gazes has your heart pounding faster than his hips. As ruthless as each thrust is and each push moves you an inch upward on the bed, Johnny’s eyes are still kind and loving.

His fluttering kisses are delicate and nurturing. The marks resemble a healing touch that will settle you enough for the next day. For the night, he rids any angst that corrupts your mood by loving you when you think no one else will.

Together, your bodies fall into one another with a bite of elation as he finishes into the protection and your walls hug around him for the last time tonight. Even when your bodies disconnect, the feeling of fullness lingers and you wish to keep this for as long as you can. No more emptiness, not right now.

Perhaps it's the daze of your orgasm, but your hand reaches for his wrist to stop him from making his exit so soon. Selfishly, carelessly, honestly, this will be the one time you ask for him to spend the night. You can’t stand seeing him go, not at this instant. You refuse to spend one more night alone when your heart longs for him to be by your side when you fall asleep.

While the big heart of his beats speechlessly at your request, he lays down to draw you into his toned chest and pampers your forehead with honeyed pecks. Like many times before, no words need to be exchanged for him to know the remedy to your somber.

Possibly, the scene with Johnny caressing your chin and tracing your smile lines is all too perfect for your imperfect reality. And him whispering and wishing a happier narrative for you is more than what you had asked for. Nonetheless, he’s very good at it, mentally noting the fact that he’s probably done the same to other hookups or broken friends.

While you can get used to this form of aftercare, the guards you put up tell you that this is a one time thing. So, you’ll take and indulge all of Johnny’s affection and false love for the next few hours you had left of the night.

Nevertheless, even sweetness can be an overpowering flavor when consumed in tremendous amounts. And you wonder when you’d grow sick of his candied sugar or if you’d just forfeit your health to keep indulging more into your addiction. A sickly saccharine question of your own will be the pit of your downfall: do you love me?

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milfnearyou · 4 years ago

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𝐤𝐢𝐦 𝐣𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧: 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞.

“𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐦.”

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 𝟑.𝟐𝐊 | 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄𝐑 | 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏

𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐉𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐈𝐍 𝐗 𝐅𝐄𝐌!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐗 (𝐗-𝐄𝐗𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐈)

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: KIDNAPPING. TORTURE. PTSD. TRAUMA. WHIPPING. HARASSMENT. NO SMUT IN THIS CHAPTER. MENTIONS OF PSYCHOLOGICAL ELEMENTS. LIGHT TALK OF PERSONALITY DISORDERS AND SCHIZOPHRENIA WILL BE DELVING INTO MORE DETAILS ON THE NEXT CHAPTER.

I ALSO DECIDED TO MAKE THIS A SERIES TO PREVENT MAKING THE WHOLE THING REALLY LONG ON ONE POST SINCE TUMBLR GLITCHES A LOT BUT ALSO FOR PEOPLE WHO CAN’T FOCUS ON VERY LONG FICS :)

VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

To say that you were hurting would be an understatement.

Everything and anything served as an infernal memory. Whether it be an object or something as simple as the weather, the effect it had could potentially be triggering for you. This new way of life felt more like a slow, painful process in which you were dying.

Overwhelming, things were now always overwhelming. Your anxiety shooting through the roof, the small person inside of you crumbling away into nothing as you screamed at the top of your lungs only to never be heard.

Your life felt orchestrated, the strings and rhythms conducted by no one else but Lucifer himself. With your pain, he created a symphony for a play, one that was to be forever engrained within your mind, body and soul.

It felt surreal, a simulation with you as its subject and yet, it was in every way authentic. None of it was a figment of your imagination, it wasn't just a bad dream but it was your reality. The scars that littered your body like a tormented and abused piece of canvas served as proof that it had all happened.

Your body ached, countless spikes of excruciating pains rushing through your many vessels and arteries, the nerves on your body were almost always on edge. It was difficult to hold onto reality, the point of returning being so far away that the thought of just letting go, would be a much quicker and simple solution. After all, you were halfway to insanity and the thought of being sane no longer remained a possibility.

It didn’t stop there. Your biggest enemy was your mind. The cursed piece of soft tissue that sat right in the middle of your enclosed skull was the one thing quickest to abandon you, betraying you within a blink of an eye and letting your body act on its own. It was impossible to control your thoughts when you almost always gravitating towards self-destruction.

Day and night, your mind screamed at you, unleashing a cacophony of howling, piercing screams that made your head ring. Blaring on and on, it had no limit. Going as far as venturing into your dreams late at night, filling your only moment of peace with countless nightmares. It was driving you mad. Always pushing you to constantly fight with yourself. You tried your best to ignore the urges but it seemed impossible.

Loudly, you'd scream into the emptiness of your surroundings telling yourself to shut up, to make it stop. Occasionally going as far as becoming physical, slapping the palms of your hands against your temple in attempts to strike yourself awake or hitting your head against a flat surface in attempts to knock the thoughts out.

But there was no chance to wake up. You were long gone. Stuck in a deep slumber that caused your physical state to act like a zombie. Almost as if your frontal lobe had shut down. Everything occurring in a rather monotone way. Laced with a sudden breakdown that hit you every other day, exploding with fear and anger. The effects of your past trauma reminding you that you still had feelings within, that you had emotions but that they were no longer positive. The negativity overflowed within you and was always ready to burst.

You saw people, individuals who claimed they could help. Medically known as psychiatrists but in your opinion, middle-aged women who seemed lonelier than you were. Portraits of Persian cats hung all over their workrooms, the scowls plastered on the faces of the felines were ones also visible on the psychiatrists themselves.

They always said it was the voices, emerging from your previously traumatic experience. Well no shit, of course, you knew that. It was a no brainer that there were voices in your head, you had diagnosed yourself of having un-welcomed people inside your mind a long time ago.

However, unbeknownst to the therapists themselves you also knew that they'd been planted into your mind from god knows how long ago. They simply waited for something to set them free, triggering the alarm and giving them proper cause to make you lose your mind.

All they needed was freedom and they were granted access to that with the help of a certain someone. A man who shared the same looks, name and identity as someone you grew close with, someone you developed feelings for. A man you fell in love with that had a terrible secret. It was hard to determine what exactly his secret was until you came face to face with it yourself. And when you did, you wanted out. Pandora's box had been opened and yet, it wasn't even your fault that it had.

You simply had to face the consequences of falling in love with someone who had a duplicate. Was it a clone? Or was it a twin? It was hard to say because he seemed to be from another world, a different planet even but in reality, he was conceived by the hands of a twisted mind. Fabricated inside a laboratory, only to be sent out many years later to wreak havoc upon your life.

And one dreaded night, he arrived. Snatching you away and hiding you for what added up to be weeks of torture. A show in which you were the leading role, the subject to many horrendous acts that one could never imagine. Acts that he always said were done because he “loved” you.

“You know I love you?” He’d say, all while his nimble fingers danced along the grains of your skin. Brushing up and down your arm as the fear raced through your veins. Your blood running cold, the hairs on your neck standing upwards. Your body was all too familiar with reacting with terror.

A few painfully quiet moments would pass, the sound of water dripping from the faucet, filtering into your conversation until he’d clear his throat. Leaning in forwards and resting his lips just above your left ear, his hot breath burning against your skin as you feel yourself holding in your breath.

“Silence isn’t an option, you either speak or be spoken for,” He warns and you nod rapidly in response. You knew the protocol and you knew exactly what it meant when he said that.

“Do you love me like I love you?” He asks. Circling from your back as he stands in front of you, using his calloused hand to hold your face upwards. Cupping your chin, his touch is moderately tender but you know that with one wrong move, everything could change.

“Define love,” You respond, not wanting to give him the direct answer he wanted. It would feed his ego all too much if you were to be so direct and yet, secretly he enjoyed you defying him. He loved how you didn't give in so quickly, it allowed him the chance to get physical and boy, did he love to get physical.

“Define love? I— obviously, don’t understand the concept of love as much as I'd like to admit. But when I look at you, the sickening feeling that emerges within me makes me think that yes, this is love. It’s everything that suppresses inside my chest, threatening to explode at any given moment. The oxygen that carries through my blood, that fuels the life inside me is filled with the thought of you. Love is, being alive and there’s nothing else except for you that makes me feel more alive.”

You fall silent at his response. Simply because none of it made sense, a cluster of babbled words falling out of his mouth as you stare at him watching as his expression slowly falls apart. The look of love is no longer there, replaced with infatuation, obsession and anger. He acted as if he’d known you for an eternity, professing his delusional love as if it mattered. As if you’d have a change of heart and drop everything within a blink of an eye just for him.

“...You must also understand that I love you because I can’t let him be the only person who loves you too,” He adds, “So do you love me like I love you? It’s only fair you do.”

“Love is a blessing in life. Something that isn’t forced upon, a concept in which— it may hold the key to your life in its hands but cannot be obtained without the honest feelings of another. It takes two to tango, not one, but two."

Momentarily pausing, you swallow the lump inside your throat, pushing it downwards. Allowing the newly found courage inside your body to come forward, "...And I'm afraid I can’t dance with you.”

Your rejection is something that hits him hard. Time seems to stop as the fleshy look on his face drops, the expression in his eyes have been replaced with a newfound fury. But it quickly wipes away as you watch him throw his head back letting out a cackle, his voice echoing inside the dingy, dark basement.

Like a slideshow, his emotions were quick to change moving from pure anger to joy as he laughs at your response. You can't help but sit there and think that he's absolutely mad. A man who shares the same body, face and voice as your lover but seems to be much more cunning and sinister. He's evil and he proves himself to be just that with his following actions and honestly, you aren't even surprised at this point.

His large hand that once caressed your face had now found its way to the knotted locks of hair, gripping it tightly as he shoves you to the ground. Pushing you down from the chair you once sat on and glueing you to the floor. The coldness of the surface is somewhat, soothing against your painfully hot skin as he presses your face against the ground. The weight of his body adding more pressure as he straddles you from behind, moving strings of your hair aside just so he can see your face. Amused, he smirks to himself when he sees you withering in pain, strings of saliva dripping past your chapped lips and leaking onto the floor.

"Oh dear, what a waste," He pouts, bringing forward a free hand to wipe your drool away. The tip of his finger now covered in your bodily fluids as he brings it to his lips, licking his finger in excitement. His eyes practically rolling to the back of his head as he moans in delight, "Deliciously, sweet."

Disgusted by his actions you can't help but shut your eyes. Shielding yourself one way or another from looking at his grotesquely beautiful visage. Naturally, the tears also begin to seep past your eyes, drifting down your cheeks. You can feel him lean in, hovering over you. A whimper squeaks past your lips when you feel his tongue dragging itself across your cheek, it feels like he's about to eat you alive. Like a lion licking its prey.

Removing his tongue from your cheek, he brings it towards your ear. Licking your helix before sucking gently on your earlobe, “I hope, you consider this next special thing. Perhaps, as a warning of some sort?”

Pushing himself off of you, you can hear him rummage around in the drawer he’s got next to the chair you once sat on. The sound of metallic objects rattling around and clinking against each other until it comes to a halt. The silence isn't soothing, it's terrifying.

Your heart begins to thump profusely, rapidly beating. You find it hard to breathe, to possibly calm down as your mind races with all the possible objects he could’ve chosen to use on you. A knife? Perhaps a nail gun.

The possibilities were essentially endless due to his massive collection of murderous weapons. But you receive your answer when you feel the long, multiple strips of leather entwined in cotton and tiny pieces of cattle bone brushing against your skin.

“Cat o’ nine tails,” He answers, introducing the weapon to you. Teasingly he brings the weapon up and down your bareback. Shuddering in fear as you feel the item grind against your back, the softness you feel now will be nothing in comparison to what you'll actually feel.

"Baby, remember that I have to do this because I love you."

Thwack!

The first blow that hits you makes your ears ring. The sensation feels hot, tingling at your skin. It's a mixture of pain along with pins and needles, only getting worse with each blow that he gives you. The stinging had a pain so strong and immense that it was hard for you to even lay there still, writhing around on the ground like a worm on hot pavement. You began to feel overwhelmed with pain, your nerves essentially on fire as you struggled to keep yourself awake.

Thwack, thwack, thwack!

You could feel the skin on your back begin to rip open, the crimson blood seeping from your wounds as he kept going. There was no mercy as you screamed, your vocal cords straining so hard your voice went hoarse. Slowly, you began to shut down. First, your hands falling limp at your sides, your body cased in sweat as you felt drained to a pulp. Then your screams came to a halt, the breathing in your voice drastically slowing down. Finally, your eyes began to droop, fluttering shut as you saw nothing but black.

Was this the end for you?

Jolting upwards, you topple off your bed and collide with the ground. Gritting your teeth in pain when you feel your back begin to burn, your semi-healed scars becoming agitated from the impact. Slowly rising upwards you panic at your dark surroundings but calm down once you realize that you're at home. Your sweet Maison, inside your calming bedroom with your lover sound asleep on his half of the mattress.

He's at peace with his soft and supple cheek squished against the fluffy pillow. Strands of his brown hair sticking about, his eyes shut tightly. You can't help but mumble to yourself about how adorable he is before leaving your room. Quietly heading towards the kitchen and flickering on the lights, flinching when everything seemed to be much too bright.

Your eyes gravitate towards the clock on the wall, it was four in the morning. You decided that there was no way you were going back to sleep at this hour. Shuffling towards your coffee machine, you brew yourself an iced coffee mixing in a shot of almond milk with your drink. Adding in a few ice cubes, you stir your drink slowly trying your best to ignore the pain in your back.

"You alright?"

Turning around you see Jongin, standing there shirtless in his teddy bear PJ pants. He rubs his eyes a few times before putting on his circular framed glasses, giving you a sleepy smile when he finally sees you properly through the lens. He looked beautiful in his groggy state and so did you to him with your hair flowing freely. Dressed cosily in his white tee with your supreme briefs underneath it.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Did I wake you up?" You ask, taking a sip from your drink.

"No, you're good. Can you make me one too baby?"

Nodding in response you turn towards your coffee machine, your back facing towards him to brew him a drink. "Latte?" You ask.

"Mhm, you know me so well," Slowly he wraps his arms around you, failing to notice how you slightly flinch at his touch. His hands travel towards your stomach as he hugs you tightly, placing his nose in the crook of your neck as he inhales your scent, "I love you so much."

The scene feels all too familiar and it makes you nervous. Gently you push him off of you, unaware that your gesture has hurt his feelings. Departing from your back he comes to your side, leaning against the marble counter.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He questions.

"I'm fine, just...don't, do that," You reply, the tone of your voice is soft, almost delicate as if you spoke any louder something would break.

"Do what?" He asks while bringing his hand towards your shoulder, frowning when he sees you dip your shoulder away from his touch, "You don't want me to touch you?"

Sighing you turn to face him, observing his hurt expression. His eyes are slightly glassy as he looks at you for an answer.

"Nini, it's not that I don't want you to touch me. It's because I'm still injured from the incident, so everything's just a bit fragile," You explain, partially lying through your teeth. It was true you were very hurt but you also didn't want him touching you because everything he did reminded you of the other him.

He nods quietly, smiling softly at you as he slowly gestures you to have a seat at the coffee table, "I'll cover the drink, you go rest."

Sitting down at the coffee table you quietly enjoy your beverage. Jongin soon joining you, seated at the front. The kitchen is quiet, dimly lit by the singular overhanging light you've got on. Jongin's caramel complexion shining underneath the lightbulbs rays. His eyes are affectionate, his gaze never leaving you as he chews on his bottom lip.

"I'm sorry," He starts, "I know it's been hard and I'm really sorry that you have to be hurting. I just wish that the incident could've brought us closer somehow but it's just, pushing us apart."

Drumming your fingers against the table you avoid his gaze. You don't know what to say, you can't blame him for what happened. But you also can't help but think that had you not known Jongin then you would've never met the other him. His twin or, whatever he was.

"I should've told you about him. Then maybe I could've prevented this somehow," His voice falters as you look up to see him. He's wiping his tears away, the whites of his eyes are slightly red.

"Jongin—”

"Tell me," He interrupts, "Do you see him when you look at me?"

Looking at Jongin, you can definitely see the other him. Except for the fact that the other him or Kai as he liked to call himself had dark green hair. Besides the difference in hair colours, they were pretty much identical. Opting to remain silent, he receives his answer.

"I wish it had never happened but, now that everything's passed I want to be by your side to help you heal. I want to help you through this," He explains. Nonchalantly sliding his hand forwards, he offers you to take his hand and you do, though not right away. Intertwining your fingers with his, you feel his thumb rub the skin of your palm gently.

"You know I love you?" He says and you can't help but shudder when those words come fluttering out of his mouth. Looking up at him you momentarily see Kai rather than Jongin and your heart stops. Afraid that you'll be punished for not speaking back. You say it back, in an almost trained responsive way. Even if the man that's in front of you isn't Kai but Jongin. You say it back because you're still afraid, you're still scared and those affectionate words do nothing but terrify you.

"I love you too."

#🧗‍♀️: queue!#ficscafe #kai x reader #kai angst #exo angst #exo x reader #exo fanfic #kai fanfics #x exo kai x reader #kindly leave a review if you’d like! feedback is appreciated!#chapter two coming soon :)

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fleckcmscott · 4 years ago

Text

Out of Sight

Summary: Y/N has an unexpected dash of inspiration. Arthur doesn't require much convincing.

Warnings: Swearing, Smut

Words: 4,221

A/N: This fun little request comes from @sweet-nothings04. You're wonderful and I hope this meets your expectations. Thanks for the request - I can't imagine ever writing this without it! 🙈 Special thanks to @jokerownsmysoul for agreeing to beta!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

Words didn't often fail Y/N, but the admission left her foggy, reminiscent of what she'd experienced after tipping over in a wheelbarrow race at a school fair. Her foot swung back and forth as she sat on the counter. Fiddled with the phone cord and twisted its beige, plastic curls around her fingers. Were there signs she'd missed? Was her gut right in insisting she was a terrible friend?

"Marriage counseling?" she repeated.

Arthur stopped filling his bowl with sandy, pecan cookies, alarm encroaching his features. She waved off his concern, mouthing "not us" before she spoke into the receiver. "I'm so sorry." With a grimace of understanding, he patted her knee and ducked out, sweets in hand. No doubt he'd ask her to elaborate. Not that she had anything to share. Not yet. "I had no idea you and Robert were having problems."

Patricia laughed lightly on the other end. "Neither of us have our bags packed." A whistle came from the background. Vague cheering. Then mild cursing about how terrible this season's Gotham Guardsmen's picks were. She sighed. "The little green monster's dropped-in since your wedding. Don't get me wrong. I couldn't be happier for you if you were my own sister."

Y/N wished Patricia was within arm's reach instead of all the way in Burnside.

"Next month we'll have been married thirty-five years," Patricia continued with a rare nostalgia. "We're a team, Robert and me. But we've both let things go, gotten old. I'd like the spark back before we lose the kindling."

Pursing her lips, Y/N bit back her qualms. Rebutting the steps Patricia had taken was uncalled for, and doubly so when she needed her support. Besides. Y/N understood them. She'd climbed them once, too.

When she'd begun to figure out the direction in which the weather vane of her life pointed, the comfort and confidence she'd shared with her ex-husband had started to wither. Transformed over the years into an awareness that her childish belief in love being enough was inaccurate. It was natural, she thought in hindsight. They'd wed at seventeen and twenty-one. But divorce had been uncommon back then, particularly in a small town in the Bible Belt. The night she'd moved in with a friend (a tactic to delay confessing defeat to her family), Jeff suggested they speak with a professional. Though her heart had known it was over, she cared for him. She couldn't deny them the chance to salvage their union, no matter how remote.

A solitary counselor was available, a disadvantage of rural living. The man claimed to be a pioneer in couples therapy, having begun his practice in the thirties. One forty-five-minute drive later and they'd found themselves squished into a leather loveseat in a smoky, cramped office. Diplomas and certificates covered the walls, the veracity of which she couldn't verify. Dr. Ellis's puffy pink cheeks and offer of sweet tea had been kinder than his approach.

Fountain pens and worksheets were provided with the mumbled instruction to answer honestly. But the questions had not fit her situation. They were for women who desired to be happy homemakers. To plan meals and do the weekly shopping. To nurse children and have dinner ready by six. Responsibilities and life stages that had given her mother purpose - a purpose that mostly eluded Y/N. Every comma and quotation mark inferred fault. And Dr. Ellis had read her responses like a disappointed teacher.

Somehow the filmstrips, accompanied by a crackling LP, were worse. Mr. Provider and Mrs. Housewife were featured. He consistently came home on time. She always wore an apron. The narrator's spiritless voice contrasted with the cheery soundtrack while matching Y/N's mood. A lively ping! cued them to advance to the next still, a duty switched between her and Jeff to practice teamwork. At least the sidelong looks they shared could still connect them.

The slides, the homework, the speeches. They all pointed to one problem: her. Her parents were a model couple. Didn't she know encouraging her husband in his livelihood was her job? That his main obligation was to invite her to share his success? She had to mend her ways. Make herself more attractive. Be grateful he displayed his affection by returning to her after a long day at the office; he could just as easily hang out at The Rusty Boot.

Not a little indignant, she'd stared at Jeff's profile. Downcast eyes betrayed his regret and assured she'd maintain composure, for his sake if nothing else. She fixed her focus on Dr. Ellis and gave the situation a good, long think. Jeff had never questioned her ambitions. Who the hell was this jackass to judge?

She'd covered Jeff's hand, rubbed his knuckle with her thumb. "You're the expert here, doctor. But isn't it possible neither party is at fault?"

"Mrs. Thompson, I've heard that misconception from many of my clients. It's never led anywhere positive. Now-"

"But what if they're both good people?" she interrupted, hanging onto diplomacy by a thread. Her resolve stayed, even as her volume lowered at the prospect of wounding the man she'd loved as a girl. "Good people who've grown apart?"

Dr. Ellis took what she'd learned was his usual position on the corner of his cherry desk. "You're mistaking natural sex differences for incompatibility. Not every husband allows his wife to work outside the home." His paternal smile hadn't diminished the sting of his words. "If you want your marriage to thrive, I'd advise a little more maturity. And I think I have just the book to help you."

Twenty tons of silence festered on the ride home, louder than the pulse beating her eardrum. Distress distracted her from noticing the run in her stockings. And it was drizzling. She cracked the passenger window of the Lincoln Continental, anyway. Closed her eyes at the bite of raw air against her overheated face.

"Look, I don't agree with what that guy says," Jeff started. He pulled at the gearshift and flicked the turn-signal. "Not when it comes to you."

As the car came to a stop, she swiped at her eyes. "I'm not going again." The press of a napkin to her palm prompted a mix of appreciation and annoyance. For his courtesy and that he'd detected her tears. "Do you even like being married to me?"

"Y/N-"

"Please." She flinched at his attempt to embrace her. "Don't spare my feelings."

Headlights from a passing car flashed in the cabin, revealing his stretched lips. He raked back his thinning hair. The quiet shake of his head when he moved to gaze at her was a relief. "I miss the girl I fell in love with."

She offered a slight shrug and pulled the corners of the tissue. "I don't like it, either."

His rapid blink softened her posture, along with the recognition that the dream they'd had was also out of reach for him. "I'm proud of the woman you've become," he said. "Even if she's not what I need."

"I don't want to be a lawyer's wife." A quiet laugh bubbled up. "The oral arguments are terrible."

He checked his blind spot and put the sedan back into drive. "I'll file the papers tomorrow. We can tell your parents and sister together. If you'd like." After some seconds, she'd slid across the bench seat and put her head on his shoulder, heartened by an affinity she'd nearly forgotten.

Counseling techniques must have evolved, Y/N considered. Perhaps Patricia would find help instead of blame. If not, tips in women's magazines were a tacky if economical alternative. She'd have to check the breakroom at work for forgotten issues.

She hopped off the counter and poured herself another cup of decaf. "Let me know if we can do anything. And how it goes."

"The first few sessions were great. I picked up a few booklets. 'Modern Marriage,' 'The Complete Woman...' Oh!" Paper shuffled as Y/N put back the milk. "'Enrichment & Exploration: Tips for Bedroom Fun.' I tried reading it with Robert the other night, but he left when I mentioned massagers and blindfolds."

"He's sixty," Y/N snorted. "Give him time."

Peeking around the corner, she spotted Arthur in his writing nook. He stood to stretch, then grab his lighter and pack of Stuttons. The low sit of his pajama bottoms was enough of a temptation for her to tuck her lip. An unexpected spasm tickled her abdomen. "Brief me on the blindfold chapter."

~~~~~

Nervous anticipation had kept her feverish for hours, ever since she'd bid farewell to Arthur with a "Save a smile for me" on her way out the door. His clumsy smooch lingered as she changed the date on her rubber stamp. While she cleaned the office refrigerator, she spent a good sixty seconds pressing a cup of expired yogurt to her flush cheeks. When the shoulder strap of her canvas bag gave out, she shrugged rather than cursed and settled the tote in her lap. With her plan in mind, the corners of her lips refused to relax .

After working the grand opening of the Gotham Mall, Arthur had the workshop she'd registered him for, a beginners' seminar for stand-ups. He'd be home right around six. That would give her thirty minutes to change into her mini nightdress with the ruffled hemline, dab musk oil behind her earlobes, and put on an LP. Dinner would be delayed - neither of them would be in the mood if they were too full. If she remembered correctly, they had a pizza in the freezer, the good kind with the real pepperoni and rising crust. She just had to figure out if she should wait in the bedroom or lounge on the sofa like a poor-man's Lauren Bacall.

As she unlocked the apartment, however, there came a muffled phomp-phomp-phomp. The unmistakable sound of a sink plunger. Fuck. This was the third time this month. Pushing through the door, she hoped the super had called a different plumber. It had taken ages to clean up the stray sediment left behind by the last one. Upon entering, Arthur's plaid bag came into view, next to his keys on the counter. A glance into the kitchen confirmed he was trying his hand at the repair.

"Hey." Y/N hung her coat, glad her consternation was hidden by the wall. "What happened to your class?" she asked with deliberate playfulness. "Did they decide you were too advanced?" She crossed her arms and moved to the doorway. Tried to hold onto the tendrils of fading arousal by taking him in.

A pleased chuckle. "The instructor left a message." Phomp-phomp-phomp."It'll be rescheduled."

"I know you were looking forward to it." The rolled-up sleeves of his shirt and flexing biceps were having the right effect. She ambled towards him. "Let me help."

"It's fine. I had to do this a lot at my old place." The set of his jaw tightened as it gave it another go.

They went through the litany of usual questions. Arthur contently reported the mall had gone well, except for a couple of teenagers who'd given him grief at the start. ("Nothing serious. They were just kids.") Her nine-to-five had been quite low-key, she explained, and had allowed her to catch-up on a backlog of paperwork. ("With the new judge, we keep having to file motions for correction.") But when he asked about this evening, she mused and tapped her fingertips on the counter. Horny, annoyed at her thwarted plan, yet nevertheless itching to seduce him

Water streamed as he turned the faucet's handle, followed by his satisfied hum. He tidied up, then washed to his elbows. Grabbed the nearby dish towel and pivoted on his heel to face her. "What is it?" he asked at her lack of response. He wiped his hands a little harder. "I thought you'd be glad I'm already here."

Seeking to allay his concern, she scooted next to him with a gentle nudge. "You know I am. You've been running through my head all day." She scrunched her nose. "I just had this idea for a romantic evening and wanted to surprise you."

"Oh." Pink colored his chiseled cheekbones and his eyes softened. "You still could. I'd like that." Ardor sparked anew in her belly. Unfurled as he leaned into her, grin cutting across his mouth and straight into her heart. "Would ten minutes be enough?"

Her toes curled. His enthusiasm for her, for them, had a habit of sending electricity up her spine. "Better make it eight," she pronounced.

A sharp nod and a pat to her bottom later, he dashed off. Once the bathroom door shut, Y/N rushed to rummage in his workbag, delighted when she found her prize. She scurried to the stereo and put on one of her soul records. Adjusted the volume to a suggestion instead of distraction. Though the genre wasn't his favorite, it never failed to induce the swivel of his hips. Unbuttoning, unzipping, she made her way to the bedroom. Yanked off her tan skirt and jacquard sweater before carelessly tossing them in the nearby chair.

She'd just gotten settled on the foot of the bed when Arthur sauntered in. Clad in his white briefs and wrinkled socks. "That was five," she said and wadded her pantyhose to hurl at him.

He dodged it easily, stepping forward to gaze at her with hooded eyes, their clear green darkened with need. He licked his lips. "I think it was four." Without further preamble, he knelt between her legs. Scrambling up the bed, she kicked subtly against his hold on her calves. Bit her lip on a giggle as he crawled over her lap to smother her with kisses. She rested on the headboard and nabbed his red and gold Carnival tie from under her pillow.

He quirked a dark brow. "What, you want me to wear it?"

Before any reservation could resurface, she smoothed the broad neck of the tie over her eyes and secured it loosely at her temple. Hesitation floated through the air. Threatened to pierce the veil of desire that enveloped her. She wondered what he was waiting for. If he was wearing that wolfish grin he saved for the bedroom. Or if a modicum of anxiety had spawned. She had sprung this on him without prior discussion. The muffled music from the living room switched to the next song. She attempted to peek under the bottom of the makeshift blindfold, tried to make out more than a vague shadow in the muted light.

But then he sunk into her. Wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pressed her into the mattress. "If you're uncomfortable, tell me," he murmured into her mouth. "Please."

The implication of his request, albeit more loving than licentious, wracked her with want. She couldn't halt her shudder. Blindly, she reached to cup his face. "I trust you," she promised. To both him and herself.

His round nose dragged down the underside of her jaw. "Where'd you get this idea?"

The caress of his smile on the crook of her neck caused a delicious heaviness to settle in her center. "A pamphlet."

"On what?" He tugged at the knot between her ample breasts. Fondled her through the thin satin. "How to make your husband high-strung?"

She carefully skimmed the rigid bulge in his briefs with her knee. "It was actually on how to loosen him up," she retorted. He always loved it when she paraphrased one of his jokes.

Every hushed kiss, every whisper of him against her flesh was magnified. Forced her to concentrate solely on him, to pay attention to each move he made. His humid, hot breath teased her nipple, prompted it to pebble with a twinge. When she released an embarrassingly desperate whimper, he snorted lightly and slipped his palm to the middle of her back. Following his lead, she arched into him. His soft curls brushed her as he laved her areola, swirled his tongue around it, her skin coming alive at the contact. Weathered hands that had so eagerly learned how to touch her groped her neglected breast, rolled its peak between slender, nimble fingers. She fisted the pillow, tipped her head, and grasped his shoulder with a cry. "Arthur..."

Getting her going usually wasn't difficult. Especially when she'd been thinking about making love for an inappropriate number of office hours. But the suspense of not seeing where he'd next pet her, of every caress being a discovery, had her core already pulsing for him. The intrigue was a treat. The best case she'd ever worked on. His strokes walked a path to every clue.

His fingertips skimmed her inner thighs. Groaning, he hooked them under the waistband of her bikini, tugged until she lifted her rear. He pulled them off hastily. With a gentle pressure, he encouraged her to open herself to him. She did so gladly, splaying her legs without a hint of self-consciousness. The relatively cool temperature of the room hit her hot, swollen folds and she quivered.

Then there was an odd sensation at her clit. Scratchy. Rough like a canvas. And was that a corner? After a few seconds it was clear it wasn't doing it for her. And she didn't think Arthur was trying to wipe away her slick. Reaching down, she found a twisted bedsheet in his fist. She was relieved he hadn't run to the kitchen for ice.

"Not good?" he asked.

She softened the blow. "You feel better."

The pad of his thumb trailed over her patch of springy hair, a faint tease that sent a dizzying current racing through her limbs. She strove towards him but he didn't oblige. Rather, he took her hand and placed it on her labia. Guided her to dip within her inner lips. A short moan left her, at the sensation and the sound of his increasingly labored breathing, tinged by his deep voice. "You look like sex," he blurted.

Laughing, she halted. Whenever something brazen spilled from his mouth, however left-footed, she adored it. She clasped his sides. "What does that mean?"

"If I'd seen you in a magazine," he started, moving to settle over and straddle her. His hard-on grazed her abdomen, leaving a damp trail of his arousal in its wake. Even as she wondered when he'd taken off his underwear, her muscles tensed and she gasped. Playful pecks met her cleavage. "You'd be pasted on every page of my journal."

Her reply slipped out before discretion could take hold. "We better buy a Polaroid." A stitch of reluctance before she added, "Just keep them in your desk."

He uncurled her fingers and pressed her palm to his chest. "Touch me," he whispered, pleaded. Her pulse quickened. With an unhurried deliberation, he guided her over the peaks and valleys of his body. The lean pectorals she loved to nuzzle after a weary day. The freckled indent of his sternum. Downward, to the slightly loose skin around his navel, then the soft, toned curve of his abdomen.

Unable to resist, she stretched to chart the ridge of muscle leading to his groin. "You make me so wet."

He let out a bashful giggle, edged with excitement. The instant he rasped his next words against her forehead, she knew he was doing his damnedest to rival her. He pushed her hand to his erection. "You make me so hard."

She followed the bulging vein from base to tip, encircled him with a firm grip. The vibration of his harsh grunt rumbled through her and he jerked forward. Released her wrist to stroke her vulva and flick back and forth along her aching nub. Focusing on the satiny feel of his flesh, the heaviness of his length, she felt petite. Feminine. Powerful. Her hand glided between his legs, cupped the sensitive skin with care. His practiced rhythm faltered. The elbow beside her ear trembled.

While he was a captivating visual, one she missed, her imagination was determined to compensate for her lack of sight. Breathless moans spun her fantasies. Perspiration tickled her nose, woodsy and sweet, conjuring memories of his taste in her mouth. Then all at once he was inside her, going down on her, sucking at her while fucking into her. Impossible feats that nevertheless caused a fever in her brain. "Oh, god," she mewled. Her wanton writhing hastened. She ground against his thigh. "I want your cock in me."

He took hold of himself as she held herself open. The blunt tip of him slid just inside her entrance, a drop when she needed an ocean. She grabbed his hips and thrust upward, hissing as he stretched her completely. "You're fucking tight," he uttered through clenched teeth.

She smoothed her palms over his back, memorized each notch of his ribs. The odd angle of his distended shoulder. The strong tendons at the nape of his neck. He crushed her closer, until her mouth bumped his clavicle. She nibbled lightly, licked the salty sheen of sweat from its hollow, drawing her name from his lips and rapid bucks of his pelvis. "Fuck me," she said, a command and an appeal.

A creak came from above. She followed his taut arm to find he'd clutched the headboard. It occurred to her, then, that her inability to see had been liberating for him. Enough to let go of his inhibitions, to give voice to the bawdy, wonderful things he'd said, to not worry about his appearance.

She reached to swipe her clit steadily, relentlessly. Tears pricked her eyes as she became weightless. Her frame seized, and she came with a choked cry. She sniffled and laughed into his neck, overwhelmed by him. The way he made love to her as if he sought to erase her earlier trials and replace them with the present.

His throaty, punctuated groans, his fingernails digging into her ass divulged his approaching release. She ran her foot along his calf, relished in his body as its angles pressed into her. He balanced himself on his knees, snapping into her at an erratic pace. Then all at once he moaned sharply and went rigid, cock twitching. She cradled the back of his head while his essence marked her walls, closed her eyes when he sprawled on top of her.

Raking her hands through his loose waves, she swallowed thickly. Although she'd always enjoyed sex, exploring this way hadn't been conceivable with anyone else. Allowing that match to light, allowing herself to fan that flame had been unthinkable. She'd felt inadequate. Unable to live up to others' demands, especially her own. There'd been too many boxes to check. Revealing herself in that way would have been a demonstration of trust she wasn't quite ready for.

Being an established woman on equal footing with her partner wasn't something she'd believed possible. She'd been content to go without and find meaning through her work. Arthur had helped her augment that. She could be tough as old leather or delicate as gossamer without concern he'd see her differently. If expectations were left unmet, their easy discussions and compromises promised they'd never become resentments. They supported each other - authentically and as themselves.

For the first time, she knew she was loved for who she truly was. And she wouldn't have to change to keep it.

Choppy panting gradually ceased, replaced by leisurely, happy sighs. He skimmed her flank, then the curve of her hip. She tickled his midriff gently, only stopping when he reclaimed her lips and slid his tongue against hers. Tenderly, he loosened the knot at her temple. She blinked at the orange, evening light invading her eyes. When his came into focus, they were still dilated, a tad sleepy. And so full of affection her breath caught.

Cheek propped on the heel of his hand, he raised his eyebrows. "How was it?"

"You have to ask?" she chuckled, swatting his backside.

A stray lock tumbled towards her as he bent closer. "I wanna hear it."

"Wonderful." Her thighs tightened, keeping him within her. "What I've been craving all day."

His smile was a slow build, equal parts shy and deservedly smug. Then he stared at his tie. "I- I don't know if I'll ever be able to wear that again."

She snorted and looped it around his neck, secured it with a half-Windsor knot. "You're a professional, Mr. Fleck. You'll manage."

He rolled to her left and yanked open the nightstand drawer to riffle through its contents. "What else is in the pamphlet?"

"Hey!" She batted him half-heartedly, boosted herself on her elbow, and spooned him. "What if I had a surprise hidden in there?"

Undeterred, he huffed. "It wouldn't beat this."

"Patricia told me about it." He stilled and slanted his gaze her way. "I can get a copy."

At first, Y/N assumed he'd contradict her. That he wanted to keep their escapades private. But once a few seconds had passed, Arthur acquiesced with a smirk and snatched a nearby tissue. Wiped himself off and tossed it in the woven wastebasket. He reclined beside her, hands folded behind his head. "Okay. Just don't give away my whole act."

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve @ithinkimaperson @sweet-nothings04 @stephieraptorr @rommies @fallenstarsabyss @gruffle1 @octopus-plasma @tsukiakarinobara @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile @another-day-in-chuckletown @hhandley80 @jokerownsmysoul @mrscarnival

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck fanfic #arthur fleck smut #arthur fleck x reader #arthur x female reader #arthur x ofc #joker 2019 #watchwhathappens

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chocolate-parfait · 4 years ago

Note

Apologies for this, but I’ve never asked for a request before. I was hoping you could write some IkeVamp headcanons for Leo, Theo and Vincent. I wanted to know what you think their reactions would be if MC just bit them. Not hard enough to draw blood, but definitely enough to get their attention. (I may or may not be the type to want to bite vampires.)

Hey! Don't worry~ Also, I hope this is what okay with what you wanted even if it's not straight up nsfw?? I mean, it still is heavily implied but I hope you didn't mean it as biting them during smexy times as I can't write that type of stuff yet,,😗

MC biting them (Leonardo, Theo & Vincent)

Leonardo

The sun was on its way to meet the horizon, and the French countryside was painted in amazing shades of golden colors, a palette that would make every painter envious. You and Leonardo were walking back home after a tiring but satisfying day in the city, where the Renaissance man worked hard to solve every problem thrown his way, a job he had grown exceedingly fond of

Despite what had been one of his busiest days during the whole month yet, he still seemed to have the energy of a little kid, the energy to tease you, that is. You couldn't even remember where this banter of yours had picked from, but you were sure it wasn't even that important. What you cared about the most now was the way that annoyingly smug grin of his was getting bigger and bigger each time you struggled to find a proper comeback to his words

You were staring at his stupidly handsome face and were lowkey hoping for him to trip and fall on a horse dump, and of course he had to go and notice your glare. That's when he said it. His typical and most favorite teasing remark that always left you in a pissed silence

"Cara mia, why are you looking at me so? Are you asking for me to bite you? If you want it so bad you should just ask~"

You knew it was coming but this time you felt like the glare you were giving him wasn't enough. Stopping dead in your tracks, you caught his wrist and made him face you. Then, you got on your tiptoes and reached for his neck where you bit him, taking his flesh between your teeth

After stepping back to admire his stunned expression, what you didn't expect was to find his eyes dark with desire. Had he seriously got turned on by that? And now his smirk got wider too!

"Hey, cara mia"

"Mind it if we play a little game when we get back?"

His deep and sensual tone sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine as a blush spread over your cheeks. He, who was carefully watching your every move, slid his toned arm around your wrist, placing a kiss on your forehead

"Who knew my amore could bare her fangs like that-"

He was so, so infuriating, but you loved every moment of it. Then again, today you had learned a new way to have him wrapped around your little finger, though he was always going to make sure to have you back for it. But would you hold it against him? Absolutely not.

Theo

It wasn't his fault, really. You were at a ball held to celebrate the opening of a new art gallery and Theo had been talking business with guests ever since the moment you two stepped into the building. Not that you particularly minded, knowing it always ended up like this each time you attended a party with art-related attendees. All you did was stand by his side, proudly watching as he worked towards the achievement of his dream

Tonight though, he looked more tired and stressed than usual. Lately he had been working more in view of the grand opening, so much he barely ever had time to see or talk to you. You somehow wanted to cheer him up, despite knowing that giving him the puppy eyes and whining for attention would only make him feel guiltier and more stressed

As you were still thinking on how to approach the matter, the art dealer went to greet an old man that was standing near a corner of the grand hall. He was a regular supporter of Vincent's artworks, your lover informed you. You trailed behind Theo, prepared to silently support him from his side, but when the guest asked about you Theo said "This is my partner, Hondje"

The way your eyes looked like they were about to pop out of your heads went thankfully unnoticed by the man, who apparently didn't speak Dutch. You could feel the way Theo just wanted to throw himself off the nearest balcony, and after one of the most awkward silences you had ever witnessed in your whole life, the conversation resumed its normal pace until the two gentlemen bed farewell to each other

At that point you finally understood the way the Heavens had gifted you with the perfect opportunity, so you took a confused Theo by the hand and dragged him outside on the empty balcony. Before he could ask you explanations, you lowered the collar of his shirt and bit him, leaving a beautiful, red mark, like the ones he uses to cover you in

Seeing his surprised face, you decided to tease him a bit, the best shit eating grin you could muster planted on your lips. "My, my, if the master isn't careful with what slips out of his mouth...Hondje here might just snatch his position and become the one in command~"

He finally understood what you were trying to do, and just now did he notice how stiff he had been for the whole day. The way your hands were slowly tracing his sides was enough to chase away every inch of stress from his body, and already predicting which direction you wanted the night to go in, he decided to play along

"What a bad puppy you are, turning against your master like that." You looked at him with satisfaction, seeing how your tactic had worked impeccably. "Well, I can't have you going around and do things like that when anyone might see you. Once we get back, I'll have to punish you throughoutly, until then..." he didn't have to finish his sentence for you to know what he was thinking. The amusement and arousal were clear in his diamond eyes. That pair of eyes that were staring deep, deep down to your core. He could be a bit rough sometimes, that was undeniably, but God did he love seeing you try to snatch control from him

In the end, he fully realized how good a medicine you were for him, and the night ended with a win-win situation for both

Vincent

One afternoon you went to hang around Vincent's room while he was painting. You were feeling kinda clingy but you didn't want to interrupt his work, so all you decided to do was sneaking up on him from behind and then wrapping your arms around his torso, gaining a small squeak from the blonde angel

Once he recognized the scent and the body pressed to his back, he turned around in your embrace to press a soft kiss on the crown of your head, just to newly return his attention on the painting seconds later. He probably didn't catch the meaning of your actions, but you weren't so keen on giving up so soon either

Pressing your chest further into his back, you moved your face until you were able to peek his colorful canvas from the crook of his neck. Eyeing his rosy cheeks and long eyelashes with mischievous eyes to check his reaction, you parted your lips and bit him where the neck meets the shoulder

"Ow!" You couldn't help but smirk. "MC...d-did you just bite me?"

You noticed right away the way his voice trembled ever so slightly and his face had taken the same color of the rosy paint on his brush. But despite looking very cute, he also suddenly appeared extremely "inspired"

It was clear you succeeded in your intent when he set down his tools to fully focus on you, warm breath tickling your ears in quick waves

"You can't do that...biting me out of nowhere..." He said pulling you closer until your noses where touching. "Is it okay...if I bite you too? It's my turn now."

The whole situation was escalating in a wonderful turn of events, and it amused you how quickly Vincent's expression turned from flustered to very needy. Not that you would complain, though

#my writing #answered #ikemen vampire #ikevamp scenarios #ikevamp imagines #ikevamp headcanons #ikevamp leonardo #ikevamp theo #ikevamp vincent #leonardo da vinci #theodorus van gogh #vincent van gogh

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americas-golden-boy · 4 years ago

Text

Operation Merry and Bright

Summary: Sam Wilson is many things.

Highly trained former United States Air Force pararescue airman, Avenger, and above all else:

Expert matchmaker.

AKA the power of Christmas traditions bringing together Bucky and the girl from down the hall.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader

Word Count: 2,161

“Hey, F.R.I.D.A.Y.?”

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?”

“Bucky. It’s uh...” he trailed off, pushing a hand through his hair before dropping it to rest on his hip, head hanging slightly as if it’ll hide the wave of embarrassment that he’s feeling from the A.I., “It’s November, right?”

“Yes, sir. It is November 13, 2017, your name is James Buchanan Barnes, you were born on March 10, 1917, you are in the Avengers Tower—“

“I’m okay, F.R.I.D.A.Y., thank you,” he cut her off, the corners of his lips curling at her reassurance.

Even with the trigger words safely removed from his consciousness along with the rest of HYDRA’s programming, it was still a long road to recovery dealing with the aftermath of his time as the Winter Soldier. Nightmares were a regular occurrence, his training was always pushing at the back of his mind, and on rare occasions his memories would lapse, leaving him confused and disoriented.

At times like these, F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s programmed response to his mounting distress, if he was alone, was to recite facts, beginning with grounding him in the present and becoming more detailed as she progressed. The last time he had snapped back into his mind was to her reciting a recipe for plum cobbler, something he had built up the courage to ask her for in preparation for the team dinner around Thanksgiving.

He found it almost sweet that on more than one occasion, such as just now, she did it even when he spoke to her directly, despite the realistic probability that he would recognize her in that state being close to zero.

Even for an A.I., she had enough sass and sarcastic wit to stand on par with her creator, and she still met every random question and whim he had with seemingly unlimited amounts of patience and understanding.

Which, he supposed, she could really have.

He hadn’t forgotten the date, though. Or at least he was relatively sure he hadn’t. He figured it couldn’t hurt to check, but with that simple piece of information, he just found himself terribly, incredibly confused.

Because hanging from the ceiling, right in the middle of the hallway leading from the common area to his suite, was a mistletoe bunch.

Even with Stark’s eccentric party planning at every opportunity, not a single Christmas decoration had made its way to the residential floors yet. Not on any of the floors, probably, but he hadn’t made any recent visits to the S.I. or R&D sections of the building, both out of a lack of necessity and a personal mission to avoid social interaction when at all possible.

As he shifts his weight to his other leg, arms coming to cross over his chest with a soft huff, he sifts through his recent memories, trying to determine the most likely culprits with a motive to hang up the offending piece of greenery.

“It’s not even Thanksgiving yet, where did they find this thing?” He questions aloud, thankful that no one else is around to see how ridiculous the whole situation is, even before he started talking to empty space, and even more so that F.R.I.D.A.Y. didn’t answer his rhetorical question.

I should take this down, she's in this hall too, it might make her uncomfortable, he thinks idly, moving under the bundle to inspect how it was suspended from the ceiling, muscles stiffening as soon as he fully processes the thought.

Could it be for you? There’s really no evidence that it’s for him at all when he thinks about it objectively, and he really wouldn’t put it past a few of the other people on the team to hang it up as an excuse to see you flustered, or some setup to an elaborate prank, something he knew you’d been victim to more than once.

Almost all of which were headed by the same person.

“Fucking Wilson,” he grumbles under his breath, spinning on his heel to head to the training room and confront the man in question, before promptly rocking back on his other foot to prevent himself from knocking straight into you.

“Sorry!” You squeaked in surprise at the sudden movement and proximity, hand shooting out to grab his arm in an attempt to steady him if he needed it.

He didn’t, but he wobbled a bit longer than necessary to enjoy the feeling of your hand on the plates of his arm.

While Stark and Banner had made some improvements to the limb that HYDRA gave him until a new, upgraded prosthetic could be completed, he was still limited to the basic sensations of pressure and temperature along the surface.

It made his heart swell every time you touched his left arm, knowing that you weren’t afraid of it and embraced it as just another part of him. Despite this, he really wished you had grabbed his right, just so he could enjoy the contact of your skin on his.

“That was my fault, I should have heard you coming,” he managed to get out, the slight lift of your brows and the hint of blush spreading across your cheeks equal parts humorous and sweet, as your wide eyes flitted across his form to make sure he was securely planted before slowly releasing your grip.

Would it be too obvious if I just tipped forward?

“Didn’t know I had what it takes to sneak up on a super-soldier. What did Sam do?” You questioned, slipping back into your easy banter with a small smile.

“Oh, right. I’m actually not sure if it was him yet but um...” he trailed off, foregoing completing his statement in favor of simply pointing above them.

She quirked a brow at him before tilting her head back and shifting her gaze to the ceiling.

If her expression before had been humorous, this one was simply priceless.

The blush erupted with renewed force across her cheeks with all the grace of paint splashed across a canvas, lips parting at the sudden drop of her jaw, eyes blinking owlishly before they shifted to focus on him again.

This time he couldn’t hold back the bark of laughter that came out of him, smacking his left hand over his mouth, the slight sting of the impact a punishment for possibly offending her.

“Is that...mistletoe?” She asked slowly, looking back and forth between him and the bundle.

“Yes.”

“In November?”

“That’s what I said.”

“And you think Sam put it there because...?” She trailed off.

“Well, uh, this hallway is just you, me, and him. I highly doubt it was put there because of me, and he pranks you all the time. He just seemed like a logical option,” he explains lamely, realizing how weak his logic is when forced to voice it out loud.

“That makes sense, and it probably was Sam, but it’s uh—“ she starts, peering over her shoulder at the end of the hallway— “it’s not for the reason you think,” she finishes, her voice lowering a bit as she fiddles with the bracelet on her wrist, a habit he noticed she had a tendency to do when she was nervous.

“Okay, well, what do you think is the reason he has to hang it up?” He decides on asking, the direct approach seeming like the quickest and most effective way to find answers to the question literally hanging above his head.

“He— Well we—“ she attempts to answer, eyes darting to look anywhere but his face, “We were talking about the holidays a few days ago, right? And I really love Christmas, it’s probably my favorite holiday. So we were exchanging stories, things we like about the season. At some point I, um, I mentioned that I had never been kissed under the mistletoe, and that it was on my bucket list. He’s the only person that knows that, I think, so, yeah. It’s probably because of me.”

By the end of her rant the words are coming out in a rush, and she finally manages to meet his eyes again, looking up at him from beneath her lashes, the soft jingle of her charm bracelet drifting in the space between them.

His brain stops functioning.

Not really, he knows what that feels like, but it’s his turn to look dumbly between her and the bunch as he processes her confession.

It’s probably the most endearing thing he’s ever heard her say, and the warm feeling blooming in his chest creeps up the back of his neck in a way that is in no way unpleasant.

What she told him was also in no way an invitation, and he doesn’t even think he’s worthy of taking away an opportunity like that from her, but it doesn’t stop the image of her body pressed against his from pushing to the front of his mind, and the tingle in his neck turns into a burning electric current, shooting straight down his spine to rest in a roiling boil in his belly.

He realizes he’s still staring at her.

“Bucky?” She asks quietly, looking like she wants to melt right through the floor and he could kick himself for putting that doubt in her head.

“Yes, yeah, right. I would say that’s sweet of him but uh, I doubt he did it with pure intentions.”

She huffs out a laugh and he feels a bit better for relieving at least a bit of her tension.

“Yeah, well, he’s probably making fun of me for being one of the only people that hasn’t done it. He thinks it’s mostly for kids,” she concedes with another self-deprecating laugh.

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” he reassures her quickly, stepping closer to place a hand on her upper arm, startling himself with his own sudden movement, smile growing when she relaxes into the contact, “I haven’t either,” he adds on.

Her head snaps up to look at him so fast that he’s momentarily concerned about her neck.

“Really?” She asks incredulously, searching his face like she’ll be able to spot the lie.

“As far as I can remember. I always spent the Christmas season with Steve and his Ma or my sisters, eating more popcorn than stringing it,” he confirms, chuckling at the memory.

“I thought you were a player in your day,” she teases, gently pulling her lip between her teeth as she grins at him.

“I might’a been,” he concedes, deciding to take the risk and trail his hand down her arm to grab her own, carefully holding it and checking her expression for any sign of discomfort, “but I spent the most wonderful time of the year with the most important people in my life, and if I had a girl I think I really would’a enjoyed the sweet and simple things.”

The smile she gave him nearly took his breath away. It crinkled the corner of her eyes and shone brightly enough to compete with the star on the top of the Rockefeller Tree.

And in that moment it was just for him.

She slowly reaches up with her free hand and brushes the loose hair behind his ear, palm resting on his cheek with a tender swipe of her thumb.

“Bucky?”

“Mm?” He hums lightly, almost scared to break the moment as he leans into her touch.

“It’s a bit early but, will you kiss me under the mistletoe?”

The warmth in his chest explodes with the strength of a supernova, pulsing heat licking across every inch of him so hot he’s worried he’ll burn her where they’re connected.

He brings her hand to his lips, pressing a feather-light kiss on her knuckles before guiding it to caress his other cheek, resting his own hands on her waist and the small of her back, closing the last bit of space between them with a gentle tug.

“Nothing would make me happier, doll.”

He watches the way her eyes flutter shut, wanting to memorize every second of this moment before letting his own close.

There is no rush, the press of their lips is languid and soft and even better than he could have ever hoped for. It’s not a kiss of desire, the embrace isn’t hurried and needy, it’s an acknowledgment and acceptance between them and says all of the words they haven’t gotten a chance to express yet.

He’s not sure how much time has passed when they pull apart, but it feels like no time at all and he already wants to sweep her away and continue for as long as she’ll indulge him.

With one last peck on her lips, he presses his forehead to hers, maintaining the contact that he had been yearning for so long.

“We might need to get Sam a fruit basket or something,” she says.

“Maybe. But he can wait till Christmas.”

#bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #fluff #christmas fluff #avengers #mcu #avengers imagine #avengers fanfiction #marvel

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anythingandeverything1d · 4 years ago

Text

A surprise

3 weeks earlier:

��Congratulations, and we will see you back here soon for your next appointment.”

“Thank you.” You take a deep breath and walk out to your car. Once settled in the drivers seat you take another look at the picture. It didn’t look like much but you were able to make out the small bean shaped blob of a baby. You smiled, biting your lip. This was something you and Harry had always talked about....but how would he actually react? He was about to start his world tour, he had plans for One Direction to work on projects again, and there was talk of him being nominated for a grammy. It all seemed like so much at once, you weren't sure he would be as excited as you were. You also didn’t know how or when to tell him. Part of you wanted to wait until you were in the safe zone, knowing the baby was growing healthy just as it was supposed to...but what if something happened to it? You didn’t want to go through that alone.... What if he wasnt excited though....what if he didn’t want a baby right now? What if he thought it would just be an inconvenience to his life at this point in his career... You sighed, placing the ultrasound picture in your purse and deciding to hold off on telling him.

Today:

“Babe....” Harry called out from the kitchen. He was concerned... you had been in bed all morning due to the insane morning sickness you had been having lately. Harry was convinced you were dying. Every morning waking him by dashing to the bathroom and heaving everything in your stomach into the toilet. You had tried hiding most of your pregnancy symptoms, but its actually insanely hard to hide. Along with morning sickness, you were also moody, emotional, not sleeping well, and would get nauseous at any given smell throughout the day.

“I’m okay.” You called back, rolling over in bed. You heard his feet pad into the bedroom and looked up. Harry was standing next to the bed with a cup of tea. He set it on the table and sat next to you. You curled up into his chest and and smiled. “If I had known not feeling well would get me some extra snuggles this morning, I would’ve faked it long before,” you joked.

Harry chuckled, relieved to see that you were feeling better. He pressed a kiss to your cheek and relaxed into the blankets with you. His fingers trailed up and down your arm softly. “Are you sure youre okay to come with me to mum’s later?”

You nodded. “Of course! You know I would never miss an opportunity to have some of those chocolate chip cookies she promised...” Ugh....cookies..... Your mouth started watering immediately. Maybe I can have cookies for breakfast too...

“You know she only makes them because you love them. I think she secretly loves you more than me...”

You laughed and kissed him softly. “Stop. Your mom loves you.”

“I know, I’m just saying she loves you more.” Harry laughed. He looked down at you and grinned. “But it’s okay because I love you more than she does....” he kissed you, his lips pulling away slowly.

You grinned, shaking your head. “I sure hope you love me more than your mom does. Besides-”

Harry cut you off, his lips attacking yours. Your hands wrapped around his body which was moving over yours. It had been almost 2 weeks since you and Harry had actually had sex. Before your symptoms had shown up, Harry had been away for work only to come back to you throwing up every morning. His hands slowly stroked the inside of your thighs, tugging at the panties while his lips stayed glued to yours. “Shh...” He whispered against your lips. “A little less talking please...”

You laughed, tugging at his boxers until they slithered down his legs. Harry tugged the t-shirt of his you were wearing off and moved his lips down your chest. He pushed himself inside you, earning a groan from you. You had almost forgotten how big he was... Harry moved faster, pushing in deeper and hitting your sweet spot. Your walls clenched around him. “I-I’m cl-” your words were cut off as he moved faster. You watched his eyes roll back and new what was coming. His lips sloppily moved to yours, and he froze breathing heavy. You could feel the warmth of him inside you, causing you to release as well. Harry sat still for a minute, before pulling out and sliding you up onto his chest with a lazy smile. You pressed kisses along his jawline, still feeling heat between your legs and that itchy feeling in your stomach not satisfied. Harry got the hint and laughed, moving his way down and cleaning up everything. His tongue pressed into you, sending your back arching and shivers down your spine. He had a finger in, moving quickly when his phone rang. “Ignore it..” You whined breathlessly. Harry did ignore it, continuing what he was doing until it rang again. Sighing, he removed the fingers, licking them clean, and pressing a warm kiss to your lips before padding over to the dresser to answer the phone.

“Hi mum,” Harry answered giving you a roll of eyes. You laughed, sitting up and moving toward the bathroom. “Yes, we are both still coming over. We just need to shower and get ready and we will be over okay? Okay. Love you. Bye.” Harry hung up and walked over to you, pressing a kiss to the shoulder not covered by your hair. “Mum is very excited to see us.” he mumbled.

You turned and grinned. “I’m very excited for it as well.” You had decided today was the day. You were going to tell Harry and Anne about the baby. Specifically today because you know Harry had been telling Anne how sick you had been and it would only be so much longer before she realized what was happening. She was good like that, very intuitive. It’s why Harry was such a bad liar now. His mom always knew what he was up to as a kid, he never stood a chance. “In fact...” you mumbled turning to him. “So excited that I have a surprise for her. And you.” You poked his chest with a smirk.

“A surprise?” Harry asked with a grin. “What kind of surprise?”

“If I told you it wouldn't be a surprise...” You kissed him once more before turning back to the bathroom. “Now I’m going to shower and get ready and I suggest you do the same.”

“Well....how about we do that together....” Harry asked softly while his lips pressed to your neck.

“Well then we better get going.” You laughed grabbing his hand and pulling him into the shower.

After the two of you were cleaned up and Harry was getting ready for the day you ran into the kitchen and pulled out the two boxes you had wrapped yesterday. One had Harry’s name neatly written on the top and the other had Anne. This is what you had come up with for your reveal. Harry’s box contained a note that said “I’m having your baby, it’s definitely your business.” A knock off of his Kiwi lyrics and something the two of you constantly joked about. It also contained the pregnancy test you originally took, an ultrasound picture, a onesie that said “if you think I’m cute, you should see my daddy”, and a bear. Anne’s box had a note that said “Mimi, Nana, Granny, Grams, or Grandma, please decide by January 2020.” Inside contained a onesie that said, “Pass me to my grandma”, a baby bottle, binky, and a copy of the ultrasound. You had debated the ideas for a while, but this one was the most unsuspicious because you and Harry had to also give her a birthday present that had arrived much later than expected.

Harry walked downstairs, eyeing the boxes on the table. “Maybe I could open mine now..” He grabbed the box and you grabbed it back quickly laughing.

“Nice try Haz, but because you took so long to shower we are already going to be late.”

“Who’s fault was that? Hmm...I vaguely remember you the one dropping to your knees and-” You blush and laugh biting your lip softly.

“Okay, okay...we may be equally guilty today. But come on let’s go...” you laughed pulling him to the door. “I’m ready for some cookies...”

You and Harry arrived around 30 minutes late and Anne was standing on the porch waiting. You both climbed out, leaving the gifts in the car and running up to the porch. “Mum!” Harry happily called out, running up and giving her a hug.

“Why are two always late?” she scolded lightly with a laugh.

“It was (y/n)’s fault, she’s always taking so long to get ready.” Harry laughed.

“Oh yeah, blame me.” You laughed walking up and giving Anne a hug.

“Don’t worry dear, I know how long it takes Harry to get moving.” You laughed and gave Harry a smirk, mouthing ‘she loves me more’. He just rolled his eyes and followed the two of you inside. You and Harry sat down, catching up with Anne. Harry told her about the tour, the new songs he was working on, catching up with Liam, Louis, and Niall, and about the praise his album had gotten. You talked about work and how you were planning on touring with Harry. “What about marriage plans...when do you think that will happen?” Anne asked with a smile. You looked over at Harry who blushed and shrugged his shoulders. You and Harry had always talked about getting married but with everything going on, there just didn’t seem to be a lot of time for him to actually consider it or make moves on it.

“Eventually.” that was Harry’s answer every time. While you wanted to be married, you weren't actually rushing the issue either. You trusted Harry more than anyone else in your life and never had once doubted his love in the 5 years you had been together. When he was ready, you would be too. You just enjoyed having him in your life. Changing the subject Harry looked at you, “What about the surprises?”

“Oh yeah!” You jumped up, running to the car and grabbing all three gifts. You handed Anne her birthday gift first. It was a large canvas painted with her, Harry, and Gemma.

“Oh this is lovely.” She smiled. “Thank you both.”

“I have one more surprise for both you and Harry.” you placed the boxes in each of their laps and smiled nervously. “Harry you might want to go first.” Your heart was beating and your hands sweating. Harry opened his box, his eyes widening at the message and the objects. Tears threatened at his eyes as everything sunk in. The symptoms, the emotions, the onesie and lastly the ultrasound.

“Is this real?” He asked looking up, wiping the falling tears. You nodded, tears also in your eyes now. Harry jumped up and hugged you tightly, still crying. Anne, now curious also opened her box. Her mouth fell open and tears spilled over her cheeks as well. “You’re actually pregnant?”

“Yes.” you cried. Harry didn’t let go, he just held onto you with a smile. He pulled away, wiping your tears and laughing. His hands pressed gently to your stomach.

Anne also stood up, pulling you and Harry in for hugs. She wiped her tears and looked over at Harry. “I told you.” She laughed.

Harry shook his head with a small laugh. “What?” You asked confused, trying to stop yourself from crying. Anne pulled you back in, rocking you with her.

“I told Harry weeks ago that you were pregnant. He called and said how you were sick every morning and just knew but he said there was no way.” She wiped her eyes again and smiled. “I’m so happy for both of you. Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” You smiled, also wiping your cheeks free of tears. You looked over at Harry who was sat back on the couch going over the ultrasound picture again. You were suddenly very worried he was not happy about it.

Anne was also watching Harry. “Well, this calls for celebration. You two wait here and I’ll grab the cookies.”

She left the room and you sat next to Harry quietly. “H?”

“Hm?” he mumbled not looking up from the picture.

Your heart was pounding and tears were now falling down your cheeks again, scared he wasn’t happy. “Are you upset?” you mumble, resting your head on his shoulder.

Harry looked over at you confused. “Upset?” He laughed shaking his head. “Why would I be upset?”

“Idontknow...” you mumbled.

“Babe, this is like the best thing ever. I mean, I’m a little upset you didn’t tell me sooner, but this is something we’ve always talked about, something we have always wanted.”

“I know...I wanted to tell you right away. Like before I even took that test but you were out of town and I- I don’t know I didn’t know how you would react. I mean you have so much going on right now with tour and your music and career...”

“(y/n).” Harry stopped you, pressing his lips to yours. “I would never have been upset with you. I have a lot going on but nothing is more important than you and our relationship and now our family.” You smiled. “We will do what we need to do with my career.”

“So...you’re happy?”

“Babe.” Harry laughed. “Happy would be an understatement. I mean look at our little baby. Oh my god, I’m going to be a dad. You're going to be a mum. We are adding a baby to the family..” He pointed at the picture and smiled. He turned and kissed you softly. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You kissed him back, relieved and excited. Anne came back with a plate of warm cookies and you grabbed three, biting into the warm, chocolate gooeyness.

“So how far along are you?” Anne asked with a smile.

“Only 8 weeks..”

She smiled and Harry laughed. “It all makes sense.”

“What does?” you asked eating another cookie.

“You’ve been SO moody. So overly emotional and the cravings I mean it explains everything.”

“Cravings?” Anne asked amused.

“Mum, we went to the store the other day and she grabbed pudding. I have never in my life see her even want pudding and she was like obsessed with it at the store. And, the other day we were watching tv and she cried like three times during the movie.”

“It was sad!” you defended.

“Not that sad.”

“What movie?” Anne was enjoying the conversation.

“Dunkirk mum, we were watching Dunkirk.”

“To be fair, I cried the same amount watching the first time so, and who wants to watch their husband, and father of their child, drown!”

Harry laughed and you shook your head, snuggling into his chest. “I just can’t believe I’m going to be a grandma.. oh my gosh, wait until the fans and everyone in the press finds out. They will lose their minds.” Anne grabbed Harry’s box looking at his items and smiled. “I love this.” She laughed at the lyrics and the onesie and then pulled the two of you into another hug. “Oh I just can’t wait.”

You smiled and Harry kissed your cheek. “A baby Styles. Who would’ve thought?”

After another hour discussion of everything the two of them had missed, you called Gemma, and told her the news. She cried and you cried and Anne cried and Harry laughed at everyone, taking in all of the moments.

You and Harry finally left, driving home and crawling into bed exhausted. Harry cuddled close, bending down and pressing kisses to your belly before looking up with a smile. “Have I told you I love you?”

“Yes, but I don’t think you could ever do it enough.”

“I love you.” He kissed you softly. “And I love you little one.” he whispered to the belly.

“We love you too.” You smile, snuggling into his chest, falling asleep to his heart beat and the little butterfly feeling in your stomach.

----

Got this request and loved it. Hope I lived up to your expectations lol

xoxo

#one direction #directioners #one direction fanfiction #one direction imagines #Harry Styles #harrystyles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles blurb

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