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joyfulhopelox · 3 years

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Board-shorts and Choppy Waves | KTH

╰►Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

╰►AU: summer love, meet cute, surf, s2l, i2l

Genre: fluff, with a tiny bit of angst

Rating: pg

╰►Word count: 17.6k

Warnings: mild swearing

╰►A/N: This is my contribution to the Summer of Love Collab, a collab i had not intended to be in but it just so happened that i fell in love with the story and i had to write it, the banner really did not come out as I'd planned but such is life! But be prepared for two idiots to fall in love. Where The Holiday (summer version) meets Gidget! I want to thank @notyouroppar for being not only the most amazing person for reading this over for me but also for fuelling my hype! secondly i want to thank everyone in this collab for being amazing and last but not least i want to thank @hobipaint and @yoonjinkooked for helping me get through this and for believing in this Taehyung!

Did I use Umji as inspiration for Ye Won? Yes. Is Taehyung’s surfer squad the almost complete real life Wooga Squad? Yes. That being said, enjoy! 💜

Copyrights for the story and banner @joyfulhopelox

╰►Summary: A city girl through and through, not used to anything but the hustling and bustling of the streets. From people with phones attached to their hands, the only accompanying noise you had on your way to work was the honking of angry drivers. However, even someone with a devil-may-care attitude can be fed up with such a life. In a desperate attempt to escape, you embark on a crazy adventure that leads you to Hawaii - on a surfboard! Living under someone else’s roof, you find that this may not have been the break that you strived for when the annoying brother comes into play. Riding a wave is like riding the subway, he told you, yet why did his hand holding yours feel like riding a rollercoaster?

Between a job that kept you tied to your desk, and a job that required you to run around town, trying to please everyone and their mother with your projects, you would’ve chosen the former. Correction, now you would choose the former one.

As a bright eyed child though, you’d chosen the latter. And somewhere in between trying to meet the producers– your hands overflowing with a stack of papers which balanced a precariously placed cup of coffee, and a video call with the actor’s managers– who had the audacity to request a jacuzzi on set, you were beginning to regret the decision.

“Yes, yes. I got it!” Weaving expertly through the hectic flow of people coming out from the subway, you tried to grip the phone tighter between your ear and shoulder. “No, no, unfortunately we cannot agree to those requests.” Humming in response, your ears painfully assaulted from the other end of the line, you apologised as your shoulder bumped into another and carried on without waiting for a response. As much as you wanted to stay and apologise, you didn’t have the time. If you learned one thing in this job, it was that lateness was not viewed nicely. As a newbie in the field, your punctuality has been subject to disapproval more than once.

“We shall see what we can do about that.” Not bothering to wait for the response on the other end of the line, you ended the conversation thankful for your balancing skills. Phone now added onto the pile, you continued weaving through the flow of people coming your way. Realising you hadn’t checked the time, you urged your legs to go faster, cursing that you decided to wear heels on a busy day like this. No matter how nice they made you feel, a day spent in pain whilst trying to be efficient was not worth it.

The building where your fate was sealed seemed to loom over you. Gazing up at it you swallowed, your throat dry. You knew without conviction you would get nowhere in the industry, and so with new resolve you made your way through the glass doors. Show time.

It only took a few hours for your blood pressure to rise to dangerous levels. Ever since walking through that door, it felt like nothing went the way you’d imagined it to. The meeting that was supposed to start on time was so delayed, you had to postpone the following meeting with the agent representing your newest addition to the cast. The rest tumbled down with the speed of an avalanche. Not having signed up to run around in heels for coffee, and especially not when you were one of the people meant to pitch the new series, your feet were throbbing and your patience wore thin.

The cherry on top of the cake was the call you received at the end of the day from your boss. It wasn’t an unexpected call, but dare you say, untimely. The call was short and sharp, delivering the blows that would ultimately lead to accepting your friends’ invite for a bar night.

The bar where you usually met your friends was surprisingly empty, though you suspected it was because it was the middle of the week. The few groups that littered the area made it easy for you to spot your obnoxious pair of friends. It seemed they were already on their second round of drinks, judging by the number of empty glasses and Georgie’s animated talk.

“I swear that’s what happened!” As you made your way towards the group, you heard Kate declare her ridiculousness with sincerity as the rest laughed at her. With a roll of your eyes, you slid in next to her.

“What did I miss?” You cheerfully interrupted their storytelling, sharing ‘hello’s’ with them and the obligatory catch up of mundane stories.

Taking a careful sip out of your drink you silently observed the ruckus they created around the table, their cheerful loud voices making you smile inwardly. You missed this.

“So, Y/N, how is that promotion going for you?” Georgie leaned over the table, seemingly to make herself heard over the loud music. Yet, by the suspicious raise of her eyebrows you were aware of what she had been implying. Your almost-fling with your boss.

“Georgie – no.” You shook your head, your attempt to shut down the conversation a poor one at best. “We are not going there.” Taking another sip of your drink you tried to come up with something to deter them from prodding further.

“Oh come on!” Kate insisted, her eyes wide. “You live like a prude married to their work most of the time,” She waved you away when you tried to poke her. “The one time you aren’t and you have a small chance at dating!” She exclaimed and you reached out to cover her mouth.

“Shush it, will you? Any louder and everyone in the bar will hear about my dating plight.” You argued back, frustrated with the situation you’d landed yourself in.

“-He’s my boss.” You countered, knowing full well that if you didn’t explain at least part of your reasoning, there was no way this would end. “Plus –“ you held out your hand to stop them from interrupting you. “He already has a girlfriend.” You took another long sip of your drink, satisfied with the way their faces dropped.

Georgie, to her credit, decided to keep her opinions to herself, occupying her time with swirling her own drink around. However, Kate, whom you’d known the longest, stared at you, eyes narrowed as if trying to figure you out.

“So what was that dinner about then?” She prodded further and you sighed, dramatically lowering your glass onto the table.

“Look, that dinner–“ You leaned forwards fixing them both with your gaze, a small smile forming on your face. “Was definitely about a promotion.” You said conspiratorially.

Unprepared for the joyful hoots from your friends, you leaned back as they both scrambled to hug you. They had been your best friends since college and they knew you better than anyone, especially the struggles you had to go through to even break into the film industry and get the position you were in now. Let alone a promotion.

By no means were you in a bad position, it definitely kept you in the city, and you could afford a good two bedroom apartment near Central London. but remembering the way you had to run around for coffee, not being able to refuse tasks left a bitter taste in your mouth. Definitely this promotion would not only open more doors for you, but also allow you to say no. The joy you felt as soon as you got the call earlier that evening washed away the pain of your blistered feet, and with a renewed spring in your step you had gone to the bar to share your good news with your friends.

“Oh my God, Y/N!” Kate exclaimed, clapping her hands enthusiastically. “This is amazing, you definitely needed this! How soon will you be filling the new role?” She inquired and your mood dropped instantly, reality washing over you.

Disentangling yourself from her hug, you sighed. “It’s a possibility, it’s not yet certain.” Your voice sounded gloomy, knowing full well that a possibility was not a certainty. “I still have to see this project through.” Tapping your fingers to the side of your glass you continued. “It’s a long few months of waiting now. I have done my job, all that needs to happen now is for the rest of them to do their job.”

Georgie looked at you empathetically, she knew what you meant. She, herself, was in a similar position to you. The silence that followed between the three of you was not uncomfortable by any means. The bass of the music pounding around you kept you company, an unneeded headache. But worth it if it meant you got to talk to your friends.

“So…” She trailed off, her eyes scouring the fuller bar. “What will you be doing now?” Turning her attention back to you, she raised her eyebrows at you. “Date? Holiday?”

The question took you by complete surprise, drink still in your mouth in the midst of swallowing, you struggled to not choke. Kate patted your back, an almost sympathetic look crossed over her face, only to be quickly replaced by a smirk. “No but seriously, Y/N.” Glaring at the both of them for ganging up on you, you shrugged.

“I have no intentions to be dating, and you know that.” You pointed at them, eyes narrowed. “As for holiday…” You trailed off. You couldn’t even remember the last time you had a holiday. Sure, you took your required days off, but you never left your apartment during those days. And to be completely honest, you only used them to catch up on work you did not get to do during the week, respond to emails you didn’t get a chance to, and order the occasional takeaway with a film in the evenings. But even that could count more as work than relaxing. Being in the film industry, you rarely found yourself enjoying a production without thinking about the ins and outs that went on behind the scenes to put it all together. The thought of an actual holiday has never even crossed your mind.

“-I do take holidays.” You weakly argued, but when you met the girls’ eyes you shrugged noncommittally. “Look, I can’t afford to.” You simply provided. That reason seemed to be enough to quieten them both, until Kate jumped up.

“I know!” She exclaimed, her palm slapping the table hard. “How about a house exchange?”

You stared at her oddly, wondering how much she’d had to drink, but she didn’t seem flushed, nor to be staggering on her feet. Instead of insulting her with questions about her sobriety you waited for her to explain herself. “You know, like, the ones where you do it through an agency.” She supplied, but at your furrowed eyebrows she sighed. “Kind of like an AirBnB, but this one is about you contacting a person who is willing to exchange their horse for a short period of time, and you are providing them with yours as a payment.”

At her explanation, your eyes went wide with surprise, your mouth hanging open. “Wha-?” It baffled you, the idea that someone would willingly not only supply you with their house, their sanctuary, but also they would agree to come and live in a stranger’s house. “What sort of scam is this?” You finally settled.

“It’s not a scam!” Georgie jumped in, the tone of her voice betraying her excitement. “My friend did it, and she loved it!” You watched her with a careful eye, trying to decide if both of your friends had had too much to drink. At your unconvinced look, Georgie sighed.

“Look, it’s worth thinking about it, you get to see pictures of the house first, and also talk to the owner beforehand. It’s not like you have no contact with them before you even get there.” She stated, carefully watching your expression turn thoughtful. As much as you enjoyed the idea of being able to live in someone else’s house, without paying too much for it, you had trust issues. You couldn’t just let anyone in your own home, just like that.

“Is there insurance? What about a contract? Will I be able to go anywhere? What if they steal something?” Before you could continue with your incessant worries, Kate interrupted you, a hand on your arm.

“Of course, there is insurance. This is all done through an agency, it is not like you email a stranger out of the blue-” At your unconvinced expression she carried on. “And there is a contract, and background checks, and you do get to pick which place you want to choose.” She breathed a loud sigh. “Look, Y/N, this may be a good time for you to take a break.” She patted your arm as if that would have convinced you that what she was saying was true.

Well, it was true, but they both knew you were a workaholic. It would take more than that to get you to let go of your responsibilities and take care of yourself first. Georgie followed Kate’s suit, her words sealing your fate.

“And you don’t want to date, so this is the best way to make sure that you take care of your own needs first.” Your alarmed expression made her continue. “You need a break, you have nothing else to do but wait, all you will do is worry and fret.” She waved her hand around as if to disperse the worries and fears mentioned.

“And-” Georgie leaned forward as if to share a secret and you mirrored her movement. “Think about it this way, you’ve always wanted to go to Hawaii.” She smirked and you let your mouth drop, her idea already a seed in your mind.

She was right, Hawaii has always been a place you wanted to visit, never having the time or money to do so. This would be perfect for you. Still worried you nodded your head, enough for her to lean back a satisfied look on her face. She knew her job was done, but she couldn’t help but add. “And you never know, you may find your Surfer Charming there.” Georgie wiggled her eyebrows at you making Kate laugh and you narrowed your eyes at her, an offended look on your face.

“Georgie!” You then realised what she implied earlier. “Also, how does dating have anything to do with me taking a break?” You sounded indignant, and the three of you burst out laughing.

It took a few weeks for you to remember this conversation. They had been right, all you did during that period was fret, wait, and call people more than once trying to figure out if everything was going on as planned. These calls earned you more than a few groans and even some rejected your calls after the tenth time you tried to reach them within a day.

Deciding you’d had enough of your own brain, you chanced a look at the website Kate mentioned. The sight of all the reviews made you breathe out easier, of course you were going to head there first, the need to know how legit this whole business was too strong for you to get caught up in the lovely pictures littering the website. Once satisfied with the reviews you then let yourself fall into the hole, sinking in deep, and by the time dinner rolled round you had a few options you were considering as a potential. One in Europe, one in Asia, and one in Hawaii.

You bit your lip, this was one of the hardest decisions you had to make, the idea of doing this frightening. Needing more encouragement, you decided to call Kate once more to get her opinion on it, but before you could hit the dial, something caught your eye. The Hawaii exchange, the person in the bio stated they would prefer an exchange with someone from your own town, boring old London. Scrolling through the pictures once more, the airy feel of the house, along with the art that was tastefully decorating the space drew you in more and more. What sealed the deal in your eyes though, was the last picture, a view of a grand pool, the flowers that were scattered all around the garden giving you the feel of the paradise you craved. In the background the view of the ocean and the waves eased your worries and made your eyes glisten with hope. This was it.

Cursor over the email address, you read the name once more before you smiled to yourself.

‘Dear Ye Won,

I hope this email finds you well. I am writing in regards to the home exchange; I happened to come upon your one and I was instantly drawn to it….’

The morning came quicker than you expected, the sound of your alarm blaring throughout the airy beach house jolting you out of bed in an unpleasant manner. You cursed at the inanimate object for not only waking you up, but for being the reason you had to move out of your comfortable spot under the duvet to turn it off. Deciding your joints were not in pain today was an easy feat, you didn’t crumple to the ground like you had previously and you could turn your head without feeling like your head’s being pounded by a rock.

The flight over from London had not been a pleasant one, the crying child next to you hadn’t allowed you to close your eyes for a second. He was not at fault and you knew that, no one could last unscathed through an 18 hour flight; but, the throbbing headache you sported now was definitely blaming him. To make matters worse, the flight to Honolulu had been delayed enough that when you landed you had little to no time to spare before your flight over to Maui. You’d think that they would have more flights in a day towards such a popular destination, however, you were soon to find out that it was not the case.

Bags in hand, trying to multitask, desperately running towards what you assumed to be your gate, whilst checking the status of your flight as you passed by the information board– it was all a disaster waiting to happen. And when a disaster is waiting to happen, chances are it will. One moment you were skillfully dodging a passerby and the next you found yourself bumping into a solid chest, the wind knocked out of you. Derailed from your goal and with the pain of having bumped your nose into someone’s torso, it took you a good moment to realise what had happened.

“Tsk, look where you’re going.” The deep voice held the annoyance of someone who’d just been through a rough day, and normally you’d do your best to apologise. However, you’d had just as rough of a day and it was still not over, not to mention you were in a hurry. Pleasantries would have to wait.

“I’m late. And you could also look where you’re going.” You simply announced with a huff not bothering to look up, the tip of your nose still throbbing.

“Did I mention anything about your lateness, does it seem like I have time?” The man, judging by the voice, retaliated. You rubbed the tip of your nose to make sure that nothing was bruised before you glanced up, your eyes narrowed as the obvious rudeness of this person. The sight that greeted you was not what you’d expected, and once again, under normal circumstances you would have paused to gawk. He was beautiful, there was no other way to describe him. His light brown hair was quite shaggy, offering him an unkempt appearance, the bandana that tied around his head keeping his bangs from obstructing his eyes. And what eyes, his gaze locked onto yours, the ebony colour intensifying the coldness in them, you found yourself lost for words.

“Well, are you going to move out of the way?” He nodded his head impatiently as if that would simply remove you from his path. With those words, the bubble you were in completely dissipated, reality crashing down on you. You were still late. With a gasp, you didn’t bother responding to him; your grip tightened on your bag and you dashed around him, praying that those few minutes were not wasted and the flight hadn’t left without you.

Now, seated at the counter of the vast kitchen, a coffee cup in hand, you had time to think about the events from the airport. With a pained sigh you admitted to yourself you’d been the one in the wrong, not only having bumped into an innocent passerby, but also starting an argument with them instead of apologising and being on your merry way. You were certain that under normal circumstances you wouldn’t have reacted this way.

“Oh, well…” Muttering to yourself you took a last sip of your coffee thanking the stars the person who offered you the place had enough stocked to last you for a couple of days. Having arrived late last night, you hadn’t had the time to explore the area, let alone think about stocking up on food. To you, it felt like a holiday - and in a way you supposed it was, only you were without the ease of being in a hotel and having a restaurant at your doorstep.

The lack of traffic echoing in your ears felt unfamiliar, the stillness of the house reminding you of a horror film where the protagonist is only seconds away from being snatched. Only, you were not in an old abandoned house. One quick glance around told you a lot about the person that swapped homes with you. Their interest in art and interior design was clearly reflected in the way they had decorated the house. The rooms were wide and airy, yet the abundance of paintings and figurines scattered everywhere made it resemble an art gallery. Walking around trying to familiarise yourself with the house, you decided that this home would be your little piece of heaven for the next month. Especially when you reached the end of the house and stumbled upon a lovely back garden, the fence lined with palm trees and gardenias scattered all around a clear pool. Excitedly, you rushed back to your bedroom for your swimsuit. Exploring the area could wait a few more hours. You were on holiday, and what could be more holiday-esque than taking a dip in a pool, in Hawaii!

Deciding on the first suit that you came across, you debated whether or not you should cover yourself up until the pool, but before you could make a decision a loud thud coming from the front door jolted you.

With your heart pounding, you padded towards the corridor at the sound of a voice yelling “Ye Won! Open up!” as they kept pounding against the wooden door. Aware that it was not your house and afraid for the door’s hinges you ran to respond.

In a rush to get to the door before the person on the other end broke in, you had completely forgotten to cover yourself up. When the thought suddenly occurred to you, it was already too late. You had the front door wide open ready to greet whoever was one the other side.

“Thank God you responded I was ready to break the door- What the fu-” A deep voice greeted you and you couldn’t help but stare dumbfounded at the man standing in front of you. A very handsome man. His ebony eyes and light brown coloured hair looked too familiar for your liking.

“You- the airport- what?” He sputtered pointing at you, rubbing his eyes as if he was unable to believe the sight before him- and what a sight you were.

You felt as if the proverbial rug had been swept from under your feet. Once his words finally registered in your head you realised the promiscuous position you were in. Not only was the stranger you almost assaulted at the airport in front of you, but you were also standing there on display in a bikini. Your attempt to calm yourself down was futile, the adrenaline coursing through your veins giving way to your fight or flight reflexes. And you chose flight. With a shrill scream you didn’t think twice before slamming the door in his face, your heart threatening to pound out of your chest.

“Fuck.” What was he doing here?

You didn’t know how long you spent leaning on the door, heart in your throat, your mind devoid of any rational thought but when another pounding vibrated through you, it broke you out of your daze. Jumping up, you shook yourself off from any theories as to why the stranger you argued with in the airport could be there. Making sure you were presentable, with a trembling hand you reached for the door, hesitating.

“Open up!” With another loud pound against the wooden material that made you jolt away from the door, the man carried on yelling. “Open up or I am using the key, and I don’t care about whatever various states of undress you are in!” His voice turned dark towards the end, the huskiness in it making you shiver involuntarily. You weren’t a pushover, so with the intention to get him straight you swallowed your pride and opened the door abruptly, catching him mid knock.

“What do you want? Who are you and what are you doing here?” Tapping your foot impatiently, you resisted the urge to look at him more than necessary. Just like you did at the airport, you found him incredibly attractive. With his ruffled dark locks - this time tied in a bun at the top of his head, another bandana keeping the strays away from his face. His light coloured shirt contrasted greatly with his slightly tanned smooth skin and the boardshorts he was wearing were giving away a bit too much for your imagination to not run wild on you.

Mouth wide open, he didn’t offer you the same consideration, his eyes raking over your covered form, his intense dark gaze making you shift on spot. Arms crossed around your chest in an attempt to preserve your decency, you narrowed your eyes at him. “You come here, almost breaking the door down and don’t even have the decency to introduce yourself to the person living here?” You asked pointedly, your tone sharp, the annoyance clear in your voice.

“Just as you did when you bumped into me yesterday?” He was quick to retaliate, his stance mirroring yours. No one said anything for a few seconds, the air around you felt charged with electricity as you tried your hardest to not stray away from his dark brown eyes. You cocked an eyebrow mockingly, daring him to be the first one to break the staring match.

“Taehyung.” He conceded after a few more seconds, the weight of your stare too dangerous for his imagination. He had to admit you were beautiful, and the sight of your angered state made you even more attractive in his eyes. Deciding it was a biased opinion, he put it down to the fact that this is the only way he’s seen you up until then. The fiery glint in your eyes accentuated by rosy cheeks from the blood rushing to your face in anger.

Hearing his response and accepting it as defeat, you lowered your arms, a satisfied smirk on your face. But before you could loudly announce your win, he carried on, his response nailing you on the spot. “And this is my sister’s house.”

Eyes wide, you gaped at him. “This is what now?” You couldn’t believe your ears, his words ringing in your head as dread washed over you. “You mean to say, you live here?” You felt the telltale signs of anger readying a harsh email back towards the woman who exchanged houses with you.

Taehyung’s eyes widened, the preposterous idea making him guffaw. “What? No!” He was quick to refute. The clear panic in his voice at the thought was enough to make you sigh in relief, sending a mental apology towards Ye Won. “I’m here to see Ye Won, are you the maid?” He looked you up and down thoughtfully. “She did say she was going to get a maid, but if she’s not home I wouldn’t go around gallivanting–“ He pointed at the shift covering you, “up and down like this.”

With an indignant huff you wondered if Ye Won would be ok with you breaking her brother’s nose. Having exchanged emails with her for the better part of a month, you discovered she was not only a genuinely nice person but also considerate as she made sure to walk you through not only the house’s quirks, but also different customs in Hawaii and things to do to occupy your time. Though, you thought eyeing Taehyung with distrust, not that considerate.

“So–“ Taehyung glanced inside, his height making it easy for him to do so without struggling too much. “Where’s Ye Won?”

Scoffing at him you prepared to close the door in his face. “She’s not here, she’s in London.”

If you weren’t so annoyed at his earlier indiscretion you would’ve laughed at the way his face fell, mouth agape. “What do you mean she’s in London? Then why are you here?” He pointed at you accusingly.

“Look, it’s my first day here and I would like to spend it in a meaningful way.” You threw him a pointed look alluding to his behaviour from earlier. “If you want more details I am sure your sister can give them to you.” You placed a hand on his chest, pausing at the feel of muscle underneath your palm. Shaking yourself out of it, you reminded yourself you didn’t know this person, nor did you want to. “Now if you will excuse me.” You lightly pushed him out the doorway before shutting the door in his face.

“What a character.” You muttered, your thoughts completely taken over by the excitement awaiting you for the day.

“Kate, I’m telling you, it’s all fine. I have a long list Ye Won gave me of things to do.” Phone pressed to your ear, you reassured your friend on the other side of the ocean.

“And?” She inquired and paused hoping for more information from you. When the pregnant pause extended she sighed exasperated. “Y/N! Come on, you’re in Hawaii! What about any hot guys?”

You laughed at her, only for your thoughts to drift to the ponytailed devil you’ve met earlier. “Mnope.” You drawled, occupying yourself with the flowers in the garden. “Nothing worth mentioning.” At the whine on the other end, you felt the need to defend yourself. “Kate! I’ve only been here for a night! There is no way I could’ve met anyone in this amount of time. And also–“ you raised your voice trying to mask the blatant lie you just told her. “I am not here to meet anyone. I am here to relax.”

Kate snorted, the thought of you and relaxation in one sentence amusing to her. “You mean you will actually not think about work? Check emails? Fret about details?”

“Shhh, I know what you are trying to do.” You laughed at her ridiculousness. “Yes, I will rest. And no, I will not be hunting any men.” You added ending the call before she could speak her mind about your personal choice of staying single.

On second thought, you had absolutely no clue what you wanted to do. Going over the list Ye Won so kindly provided for you, you felt overwhelmed. It wasn’t that you weren’t any good with lists, you lived for them, your job relied on them more than you cared to admit. This list though, entailed you relaxing and having fun, two concepts which you’ve rarely experienced since leaving university.

“Not this,” your finger skimmed over the list, making a mental note to ask Ye Won what exactly did ‘going mental at the Sailor Jerry Festival’ meant. “Aha! Beach!” You exclaimed, face lighting up with excitement. “I know how to do that!” Glancing underneath the list of beaches your eyes caught her suggestion of what to do on said beaches. “Should I–?”

Smiling lightly to yourself, you nodded. Surfing. Look for Hyung Sik. Giddy at the thought of doing something out of the norm, you imagined what Katie and Georgie would say if they knew. Gathering your things you decided it was worth a try, if only to get yourself familiarised with the area and walk to the beach. Well, surf’s up I guess.

The road to the beach was littered with stalls ready to exhibit the best of what Hawaii had to offer, and you spent more than you had planned just in awe at the multitude of colours around you. The music and the atmosphere surrounded you fully, and you happily immersed yourself in the experience. For the first time in forever you felt free, the breeze coming from the ocean soothing your worries.

After a journey that took you an hour longer than intended, you reached the beach, your eyes scouring for the hut Ye Won mentioned. Past the showers, down towards the Surfer’s Den bar, you tried to remember the instructions written on the paper. Feet buried in the soft sand, your eyes wandered towards the way the soft waves broke as they reached their final destination, the music of the sea lulling you into a daydream.

“Yo-” The sound of someone yelling broke you out of your daze and you craned your neck to catch a glimpse of the source. “You’re gonna run into the tables.” Finally spotting the man waving at you, you stopped, your brain registering what he was trying to tell you. Looking around confusedly, you realised you were a few centimetres away from slamming into one of the tables that belonged to the bar.

“Oh,” squinting, you waved back to the man in thanks when your eyes caught the sign above his head. “Surf’s up.” You mumbled to yourself before your eyes lit up in recognition. “Oh! This is it!” You quickened your pace, hoping to reach the hut before you had the chance to change your mind. The man had his back towards you now, too preoccupied with a surfboard, the sheer size of it making you gulp.

“Uhm, excuse me.” You tried, your voice cracking. You didn’t know why you suddenly turned shy, you were used to talking to big names, people who could eat you for breakfast, you never faltered once. Why were you all of a sudden becoming a wallflower?

With new resolve, you tried again, your voice a notch higher. “Excuse me, are you Hyung Sik?” You asked as the man suddenly turned around, almost clocking you in the face with his elbow.

“Oh shit, I'm sorry.” He apologised, seeing your disgruntled expression. “No bubs, I’m not name’s Woo Sik.” Your heart sighed in relief at this, you could come another time, you promised yourself. But before you could turn around and run for the hills like you’d planned to, the man carried on, crushing your escape plan. “But he’s inside, I can bring him out for you.”

You wanted to tell him no and that it’s okay, but before you could utter a word he had already gone back inside, coming out with another person behind him. Wait. Another two people behind him. Were all the guys in Hawaii this hot? You questioned, the sight of their handsome faces making you freeze on spot.

“Here she is.” The man you spoke to before, Woo Sik, turned to one of the men following behind him. You assumed him to be Hyung Sik and you turned towards him, prepared to stick a hand out in greeting.

“Oh shit man, she is beautiful.” The man exclaimed and before you could decide whether you were flattered at the compliment or alienated by the thought of them talking about you behind your back, he rushed towards you, and pulled you into a friendly hug.

“Welcome to Surf’s up. I’m Hyung Sik, I’m assuming you are looking for a teacher?” He let go of you, hand still on your shoulder and you raised your eyebrow at him.

“What makes you think that, I could just be–“ you glanced at the sign behind him that read boards for hire. “Looking to hire a board...”

Hyung Sik looked you over for a second and you fought the urge to squirm under his gaze. “No offence bubs, but you look like a city person. We had one of them once,” he turned towards his friends and chuckled, “he’s a pro surfer now but, man, you city bros are so easy to read.”

The comical way in which he threw his hands up in mock frustration made you burst out laughing. You knew you should’ve taken offence at what he said, but you couldn’t find it in you. He seemed too genuine in his opinion for it to be an insult. And it’s not like he was wrong.

“Right, yes, I am looking for a teacher.” You nodded, sheepishly.

“Well bubs, I would love to be yours, I have a feeling you’re a cool one, but unfortunately I have some business I need to take care of.” He sighed dramatically.

“Oh don’t I know that.” You laughed, preparing yourself to leave once more, the hope in your heart rekindled. If he was busy you would definitely have to come again later. “Well– Ye Won’s suggestion will have to wait then.” You spoke to yourself.

“Ye Won.” The man whom you haven’t been introduced to spoke, eyes gleaming with surprise. Hyung Sik let out a loud laugh at his friend’s obvious behaviour. The man was handsome, his crooked smile and short hair giving him an air of youth that you deemed attractive. But judging by his reaction, he was already spoken for so with a shrug you nodded.

“Hush man,” Woo Sik laughed, slapping his friend over the back, the sound of it making you wince. “This lovesick fool is Seo Joon. He may be handsome, but he’s a tool.” He filled you in.

You laughed, your eyes tearing up. Between your pearls of laughter and the men’s bickering you missed the new addition to your group. “Don’t worry, I deal with tools more than I care to admit.” You winked in Seo Joon’s direction, your eyes catching sight of the man behind him. “Speaking of tools- Taehyung“ you muttered rolling your eyes. The men looked at you confusedly, before said man made his presence known.

“Y/N. You're stalking me?” He took a step towards you, the smirk on his face infuriated you.

“Perfect timing, Taehyung.” Hyung Sik wound his arm around Taehyung’s shoulders. “You got a new student.” He looked at his friend pointedly, and you had a feeling it was not a request as much as it was a command.

Taehyung prepared himself to object before you stepped in. “Oh no no, it’s ok. I can come back another time.” You tried to escape out of it, the prospect of having Taehyung as an instructor was not sitting well with you.

“Nonsense. He may be an ass, but he’s the best surfer we have.” Seo Joon smiled at you reassuringly before he lightly kicked his friend in the shin. “Stop staring.” He said amusedly, bringing your attention back to Taehyung.

“He may be a good surfer.” You said unconvincingly, “but that doesn’t make him a good teacher.” You shrugged at Taehyung’s now offended expression.

“Ohhhh I like her, can we keep her?” Woo Sik laughed, throwing his arm around your shoulders making you blush.

Taehyung looked pointedly at his friend’s arm around you before he grabbed your forearm and pulled you to him. “Fuck off Woo Sik. I’ll show you a good teacher.”

Before you could protest, he pulled you away, marching towards the side of the hut, you in tow. His friends’ laughter and teasing comments from behind were not lost to your ears. “Careful Taehyung, you may end up drowned in the ocean.”

“Right, first, you need to-” Taehyung started, only to realise he had been speaking into thin air, your form already ahead of him, ready to reach the water. “Oi!” He yelled after you, the panic settling into his heart. The waves were too dangerous for you to get in there straight away. Sprinting he ran as fast as he could, grabbing your shoulder right before you could reach the edge of the sand. “What do you think you are doing?” He huffed, trying to catch his breath.

Looking in between him and the water confusedly, you pointed at it as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “I’m uh, taking a dip?” You stared at him, eyes narrowed. “What do you think you’re doing?” You pointed at him, his shirt having unbuttoned after his mad sprint. You would’ve lied if you said it wasn’t distracting, the sight of his collar bones drawing imagery in your head you didn’t wish to have.

“Hyung Sik gave me you as a student, and we are going to learn how to surf. And this” he pointed at you, giving you a chastising look as if you were a petulant child, “is not how you do it.”

“Did I agree with you being my teacher?” You huffed, the idea of being alone with him, in water not sitting well with you. “You can learn how to surf, I will just enjoy my time swimming until someone else is available to teach me.”

Taehyung stared at you, your stubbornness shocking him into silence. “Y/N, you’re a bore.” He shrugged and you gaped at him, offended by what he was implying.

“I am not!” You almost stomped your foot, only stopping yourself when you remembered you were a grown adult not a child. “I can have fun, thank you very much.” Taehyung cocked his eyebrow, the unconvinced expression on his face spurring you on in an attempt to defend yourself. “I once went rock climbing!” You proudly declared, hoping that this would be enough to redeem yourself. You didn’t know why you felt the need to prove him wrong, but the impulse had been there ever since you met him.

“Oh, right. And let me guess, you’ve never done it again after that?” He teased you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Feeling the need to defend yourself you almost lied, ready to tell him that you had done it multiple times after that, but in reality you knew it was not true. So with your head slightly lowered you mumbled a response.

“Ah, I knew it. Tell you what?” He proposed and you looked up at him, your breath catching in your throat. The way the morning sun caught his brown eyes, making them sparkle, made him look devilishly handsome in your eyes. If it was not for his attitude, you would have probably went for Georgie’s advice and tried to flirt, but this was a hopeless case. “I will make you lose that stuck up city shell in a couple of days.” He proposed, the smug smile on his face egging you on.

You didn’t know what possessed you to agree with it, it may have been your desire to prove him wrong, it may have been your guilty pleasure of being near him, but you readily grabbed his hand and shook it, sealing the deal.

“Fine. Now-” You looked at the ocean, the prospect of being on them on a plank making you gulp. “Where do we start?” You glanced at him, the defiance replaced with uncertainty. You were out of your element, and you were ready to admit that.

Taehyung stifled a laugh at your constipated expression, his heart warming at the thought of you placing his trust in him, regardless of your previous encounters. “Not here, City Girl.” He winked, his hand still in yours, he pulled you further in. “We need to get you used to being on the board first. And those waves will do nothing but swallow you whole.” He pulled you towards the sand, his board already placed on it in position.

“Oh so you are not putting me on a plank in the sea like pirates do huh?” You jokingly nudged him, shoulders more relaxed at the thought of being on land for the time being. Taehyung couldn’t help but laugh at your joke and as he motioned for you to stand on the board he added.

“Nah, we only make you walk the plank as an experienced surfer. For the moment you are a swabby.” He nudged you with his shoulder, making you lose your balance. “Oh lord, we need to work on that.” He sighed and you whined indignantly.

“I was not prepared! I swear my balance is better than that.” Trying to prove him wrong you went to get yourself back into position, only to miscalculate how soft the sand underneath your feet was. With a loud yelp you hurtled towards him, hand barely grazing his shoulder in a futile attempt to steady yourself, and you landed painfully on your knees. Mortified at having displayed such graceful behaviour in front of him you groaned.

“Told you.” Taehyung smiled at you and offered his hand to help you up. Pulling you back onto your feet, you steadied yourself and before the smell of him combined with the scent of the beach could throw you into a daze, you stepped away from him with an awkward cough.

“So what do I do?” You could have cursed yourself for sounding so shy, but the nerves that were piling ever since you arrived at the beach got the better of you. Smirking at you, Taehyung pulled you back onto the board.

“Well, now that I’ve witnessed you fall for me once, let’s work on your balance.” Gaping at his brazen attitude you bit back a snarky remark, settling for cursing him under your breath as you deliberately stepped on his feet.

The rest of the day, you spent in agonising pain, your feet on the board and the sun beating down on your back, your mind muddled with thoughts of the man who happened to have lost his shirt due to the heat, as he put it.

“So we are done?” You couldn’t help but blink at him in gleefulness. The prospect of being near him for longer than necessary made your heart beat out of your chest.

Taehyung laughed at your hopeful expression, undecided whether the small bursts of happiness he felt were because he was just about to burst your bubble or if it was something else.

“Oh no, this is not a one time lesson.” He picked up the surfboard, his warm hand on your naked lower back pushing you towards the ocean.

“We are going to be here for a while.” He smiled at you innocently, and your breath caught in your throat as he leaned down, his breath fanning over your face with a carefree expression. “Every day.” Oh shit.

The morning came too quickly, and you struggled to get yourself out of bed. The prospect of getting more bruised and battered than you were already was not an incentive. Thinking of the previous days of activities reminded you of the man that promised you a fun week. Taehyung drove you up the wall in more ways than one. Half the time you didn’t know whether you wanted to throttle him or kiss him; his demeanour giving you whiplash every time you argued with him. You couldn’t say you had a normal conversation with him since you’d met. First, the airport where he more than readily called you an asshole, then his first appearance at his sister’s house when he called you a maid. The tip of the iceberg were the surfing lessons he’d been roped into by his friends.

Lessons where he insulted you and your skills, whilst his hands were resting on your naked skin, as he tried to steady you on the board. Remembering how his slender hands held you by your naked waist as he barked at you to hold yourself up all but made you groan in frustration. How could such an attractive man have such a sour personality? You couldn’t explain it to yourself, especially when his friends seemed to be the nicest people you’d ever met.

Thinking about their interactions, the brotherly link between all of them, the way Taehyung interacted with them, his carefree attitude and boyish smirk as they teased each other about one thing or another - gave you even more of a headache. Seeing him like this made you realise that there was more underneath the front he put up when talking to you, and you would be lying to yourself if you said his blaise attitude towards life didn’t draw you in.

A knock at the door broke you out of your thoughts, and you scrambled to get out of bed, your foot getting caught. Stumbling, you didn’t think twice about the way you looked, or the fact that you had just woken up; you headed straight towards the front door, opening it.

“Are you going to make it a habit to present yourself in the worst ways possible?” Taehyung’s amused tone greeted you and you yelped, the urge to shut the door once more too strong. But before you could give into the impulse, his foot stuck through the doorway and he slipped inside before you could do anything.

Humming quietly to himself, he made his way towards the pool as if this was his own home. In a way you supposed it was. “Uh, want some coffee?” You offered and he waved you off, not bothering to answer as he slipped outside. You rolled your eyes at his behaviour and turned around towards the kitchen for a much needed coffee, but not before you made a beeline for the bathroom to make yourself presentable.

A few good minutes later, most of which was spent in the bathroom rearranging your hair, you made your way towards the back of the house towards the garden. The early morning air, spiced by the fresh smell of the ocean with floral hints from the gardenias in full bloom, made you smile. Your tense posture relaxed as you sipped your coffee. You took in the bright yellows reflecting in the sky, and the pool which housed a bare chested man.

Sputtering, you coughed out your mouthful of coffee, almost tempted to rub your eyes in case what you saw was a mirage made up by your tired brain. What was Taehyung doing in your pool? His back was towards you and you took the time to observe the way his muscles strained against his sun kissed skin. Mouth hanging open you gulped, the sight of his bare back too much for your brain to handle.

You glanced away before you cleared your throat loudly to get his attention. “Care to tell me what you are doing in the pool?” You questioned, your eyes observing the bushes of manfern. You waited for a full minute before you got a verbal reply, the splashing sounds coming from the side an indication of him approaching you.

“Care to tell me who you’re talking to?” He mocked, your stubbornness amusing him. Pushing himself out of the pool as you turned around to give him a piece of your mind was a disaster waiting to happen. Your words caught in your throat, the sight of his bare chest and water dripping down it reminding you of how lackluster your dating life had been until then.

“Fu- You of course.” You exclaimed, your brain struggling to form a full sentence without a swear word in between.

Taehyung enjoyed the way your cheeks flamed red, the sight of your flustered face made him as amused as it did aroused, with the knowledge that he had been the one to make you that way. “Then, is there a reason you are not looking at the person you are addressing?” He couldn’t help himself, the need to tease you further overweighing everything else. Your reactions were gold to him and he planned to make the most of it.

“Is there a reason you’re naked?” You shot back, your eyes narrowed.

“I went for a swim.” He replied calmly as if you were missing the obvious. “Plus I am not naked, I'm wearing shorts.” He motioned towards his lower half and you couldn’t help but follow his movements, your eyes stuck on his narrow waist and happy trail leading towards imagery you’d rather have not thought of. You redirected your gaze at him, his smirk making you want to clock him in the face.

“Amazing.” You muttered not sure exactly what you may have been referring to. “Now that you are out the pool, can you put a shirt on?” You made a point by grabbing the towel sitting innocently on the back of the lounge chair and throwing it at him. Desperate to change the subject you hurriedly added. “What are you doing here this early? I thought we were meeting at the beach.”

Taehyung struggled not to laugh at your plight and instead he shrugged nonchalantly. “We were, but the waves are wild today. There is no way it’s safe for any of us out there.” He toweled himself and you tried your hardest to keep your eyes trained on his face instead of his well defined abs. “Thought it would be best if we went rock climbing instead.”

His proposition was enough to make you forget his state of nakedness, and you gaped at him. “Definitely not!” You shook your head, arms crossed in defiance. “Nuh-uh, no way.”

“Why are you being such a sourpuss?” He demanded, hands crossed over his chest and you tried your hardest not to stare. The sunrise was casting its rays over the two of you, causing the sheen of sweat and water clinging to his tanned skin to glisten. His stance did nothing to help with your staring, or your desire to reach out and run your hands over his bicep, if only to prove whether or not his skin was as soft as it looked.

With a hard gulp, you forced your gaze away from his naked chest, praying that he hadn't noticed the way it lingered there for a second too long. Locking eyes with his amused ones, the tick at the corner of his mouth suggested otherwise and you felt yourself flush. Mortified at having been caught ogling at the person you’ve readily declared to dislike. His words barely registered in your head as you bristled, “I am not a sourpuss.” You declared, copying his stance, arms crossed over your chest a defiant glint in your eyes.

Taehyung wondered if you realised that your position accentuated your bikini clad upper body. His mouth suddenly became dry as he tried not to stare at the way your breasts pushed upwards, or think how much the blush still dusting your cheeks made him want to act on impulse and kiss you senseless. As rough and blunt as you’d been until then, he couldn’t deny his attraction towards you, your wit and honesty drawing him in.

“I am just cautious.” You were quick to defend yourself, interpreting his stare as his rebuttal towards what you’d just declared. “I don’t like heights.” You mumbled, your arms dropping to your side, turning your gaze towards your feet.

Taehyung’s gaze softened, a small smile flitting over his face before he straightened himself and with a hard tone he replied, “It’s not that high, and you literally decided to ride waves without a second thought. With this at least you have a harness and protection.” He motioned towards the angry wall of water, its height and aggressiveness the only reason why he decided to forego his lessons for the day. He looked at the waves wistfully; for him it would have been the perfect time to ride. Throwing a glance in your direction he shook the thoughts away. You weren’t ready for this, and if turning his back towards the session meant keeping you safe, then he would do it without a second thought. He wouldn’t let you know though, your clear distaste for anything remotely caring coming from him had been made clear earlier that week.

Sighing you nodded, he was right. Gathering your last bit of courage, you straightened yourself, shoulders square staring him straight in the eyes. “Okay, let’s do this.”

Taehyung nodded at you, the desire to take your hand to comfort you was strong, your quivering lip giving away the nervousness underneath the bravado. To prevent himself from further scaring you away, he stuffed his hands inside his pockets and motioned with his head towards his car. “Let’s go then.”

****

The sight of the tall wall in front of you made you gulp, rampant thoughts of how you were going to fall running through your head.

“You scared?” Taehyung asked, his eyes searching yours. At the discomfort he found in them he smiled ruefully. “You’re scared.” He declared and you huffed at him, puffing your cheeks.

“I am not!” You stomped your foot in discontent, closely resembling a child, and Taehyung couldn’t help but laugh. Realising what you’ve done you relaxed your stance before you slowly nodded. “I’m not good with heights.” You mumbled, admitting this to him made you feel ashamed and you couldn’t bring yourself to look him in the eyes.

Taehyung cleared his throat, berating himself for making you feel self conscious. His intention was to plan an activity that you would not only find fun, but also liberating, not to make you feel inadequate. “Hey, there’s nothing wrong with not being good with heights!” He said but you still looked unconvinced. He stopped, his mind trying to find a way to make you feel better. “Ah, did you know I was terrified of water?” At your surprised stare it was his turn to blush. Sharing information not many people knew about him, not even his closest friends, made him nervous.

“You? No way?” Your mouth dropped incredulously. Having witnessed him in the water, you could have sworn he was born in it. “But...you’re so good!” At his sheepish nod you smiled at him, the thought of having knowledge about something so personal to him made you feel warm, a wave of affection washing over you.

“But don’t tell the guys, I’ll never hear the end of it.” He whined and you couldn’t help but laugh at him, the tense atmosphere disappearing into thin air.

“So how did the mighty Kim Taehyung end up loving the water?” You inquired, enjoying the conversation that ensued between the two of you. For the first time since having met him, you spent your time admiring the boyish grin and carefree attitude directed only towards you instead of afar.

****

“Oh my god Taehyung, stop!” You laughed, unable to control your amusement at his actions. Taehyung smiled softly to himself, your laughter echoed in his brain like a song on repeat. Turning towards you with a silly smile he motioned towards the front.

“You ready?” The queue was getting smaller and smaller and you were becoming more and more nervous. Your palms began sweating, and you were certain the feeling of stickiness running down your spine was not just the sun beating down onto your naked back. The encouraging chants in your head weren’t doing a good job of keeping your anxiety at bay anymore and the churning in your stomach was a telltale sign of nausea.

“Y/N, seriously, please stop.” Taehyung grabbed your hands, and you jolted not having realised the tight hold you had on the straps of your bag. Ignoring the warmth of his smooth long fingers prying yours away from each other, you bit your lip, the butterflies in your stomach kicking up a flurry. You could’ve sworn they weren’t there at the beginning, the churning in your stomach feeling different from before. Refusing to glance his way, you kept your eyes locked onto the wire that could be your potential demise. The sight of it combined with the shouts from the people going down was doing nothing to calm your nerves. You didn’t even notice when you allowed Taehyung to interlink your fingers together, or when you gripped his hand tightly in a desperate attempt to ground yourself– but he did.

Taehyung’s gaze flitted towards your hands, the feel of your tight hold on his hand drawing his attention. For a second he allowed himself the illusion of hope, but as soon as he saw the paleness of your skin he quickly acted, afraid you may end up puking before the fun had even begun.

“Come on, we can leave if you want to.” He pulled at your hand gently, the action making you aware of your own deathgrip on his. You let your hand drop, acting as if his touch has burnt you. It may just as well have, the feeling of his warm hand on yours persisted, even after you’d separated.

Chancing a look at the wire and attempting to calculate the distance between it and the ground you hesitated. Your body was screaming at you to turn around, your fear of heights making you tremble on spot. Yet your brain kept reminding you that Taehyung was there, and you wanted to look brave in front of him- if only to prove him wrong. You knew how to have fun.

Hesitating to look him in the eye, you shook your head hoping he wouldn’t be able to read your body language. The urge to grab his hand for comfort was strong, but instead you satisfied it by gripping your shorts tightly. The line moved slowly, and with each step you took closer towards the front you felt the intensity of your trembling knees. Your mouth felt stuffed with cotton balls, and you prayed that Taehyung couldn’t see the way your hands were shaking.

Taehyung observed you for a few seconds, his thoughts at war with each other. On one hand he wanted nothing more than to grab your hand and lend you his strength, on the other, he knew that you would not accept it. Your pride was too strong to accept any consolation from him. However, when he caught sight of your hands almost ripping the pockets of your shorts he made a quick decision to reach out for your hand once more, his strong grip not allowing you to pull away from him even if you wanted to.

Not like you wanted to, as soon as you felt his fingers intertwined with yours, you gulped. Your first reaction was to pull your hand away, but the way his thumb absentmindedly drew patterns on the inside of your wrist made you pause. Was your pulse raised because of your fear of heights, or was it something entirely different this time?

Your fretting thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a cheerfully familiar voice shouting both your names from across the road. “Yo! What are you doing ‘round these parts?” You turned around to face Seo Joon, surprised to discover the question was aimed at you instead of Taehyung. Confused as to why he’d address you first, you pointed to yourself questioningly.

“Yes, you.” Seo Joon laughed. “This loser’s quirks don’t phase me anymore.” He motioned with his thumb towards Taehyung, whose face resembled a perfect picture of a tomato.

Before an argument could break out between the two friends you readily replied, “I uh, Taehyung decided that the waves are too dangerous today, so he brought me here instead.” You shrugged, not meeting Seo Joon’s careful gaze. You didn’t know why, but the way he stared at you made you shy away. He was a handsome man, and you thought that from the beginning. Not like any of Taehyung’s squad was anything but handsome, but Seo Joon’s good looks paired with his wit made you think of him more than the rest.

Your attention focused on the tips of your shoes, you missed the way the two men glanced at each other. Seo Joon’s lips curled into a mischievous smile. “Did he, now?” He wondered thoughtfully. “But the waves are perfect for a ride today, this sort of aggressiveness,” he stressed out the word and you looked up at him. “Is perfect for a surfer.”

With a cocked eyebrow in Taehyung’s direction, your lips curled into a smile as you turned back to reply to Seo Joon. “Oh, well, he clearly needed a break today then.” You wiggled your brows at him, mocking Taehyung’s habit of dipping out of training and his usual lateness. Leaning towards Seo Joon you whispered loudly, intended for Taehyung to hear. “Do you think he used me as an excuse to get out of it today?” You laughed when Taehyung sputtered in protest.

Seo Joon laughed along with you, the meaningful gaze towards his best friend not lost on you. “Ah, I don't think that is the case Y/N, late as he is, that boy lives riding those waves.” He pointed his thumb towards the ocean. “You should see him and how grumpy he is when we get choppy waves.” He laughed, this time it was his turn to wiggle his eyebrows at you. “I think he had something better in sight this time though.” He winked at you, and you felt the blush returning with furious vengeance. “I wouldn’t blame him.”

You knew what he wanted to imply, but the small glimmer of hope and warmth that took roots in your heart was quickly crushed by Taehyung’s rebuttal. “Don’t get ahead of yourself man, I may be able to ride the waves, but she can’t.” Before he could continue his phone beeped and he excused himself to take it.

You glanced after him, your wistful gaze making Seo Joon smirk as he elbowed you. “Don’t take him seriously, these waves are perfect for you to learn. He’s just a worrywart.”

And just like that, the warmth took hold of you once more, and you smiled hesitantly at him. “Well, if he is such a worrywart, why take me to this place knowing full well I have a fear of heights?” You shrugged, remembering where you were, the thought of hanging above ground only secured by a wire making you shudder with anxiety.

Seo Joon eyed you suspiciously and opened his mouth to say something else but before he could say anything, Taehyung clapped a hand on his back, phone in his other hand. “Ye Won asked about you.” He shrugged as if he was talking about the weather. However, the glint in his eyes and the way Seo Joon blushed made you think there was more to it that met the eye. Looking between the both of them questioningly, you decided to keep your opinions to yourself.

“Right,” Seo Joon awkwardly laughed, “it’s time for me to hit the waves.” Ducking away from Taehyung’s arm, he waved at you and did his signature handshake with Taehyung. “Oh–“ He turned to glance at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “To answer your question, maybe he just wanted to hold your hand and couldn’t find a better excuse.” He winked at you, disregarding the blush that took over your cheeks with a vengeance.

“Yo, what are you telling her?” Taehyung narrowed his eyes, prepared to clock his own friend if needed. He knew that Seo Joon had nothing but respect towards you, but the furious red that coloured the tip of your ears made him doubt the relationship the two of you had.

Seo Joon rolled his eyes at his friend’s possessiveness over you, and with a well placed slap landed on his back he loudly stated, “That you need to man up. Oh… and remember to tell her about the party Hyung Sik’s throwing tonight.”

“The what?” You glanced between the two, blush subsided, wondering what they had’t told you.

“Our monthly get together. Don’t worry.” He advised when he saw you bite your lip. “Woo Sik will pick you up if this one doesn’t grow a pair.” With that he disappeared as soon as he came, leaving you and Taehyung to deal with a load of unpacked baggage.

The two of you stared at each other in stupefied silence, thoughts running through your head.

“Uh–“ Taehyung mumbled, the panic of having been put on the spot by his friend rendering him speechless.

“Don’t worry, Woo Sik can come and get me.” You hurried, the heat from your blush refusing to go down. You ignored the way your heart constricted when he didn’t argue against it, and instead pulled you out of the line.

“Yeah, it’s late. Maybe we should call it a day, so you can get ready.” Taehyung didn’t know what possessed him, but hearing you accept his friend’s invite so readily made him feel bitter,

****

True to his word, Woo Sik came to pick you up, his dashing figure clad in a colourful shirt. The bright green contrasted greatly with his baby blue shorts, and you couldn’t help but laugh at him.

“What? Am I not a perfect summer vibes model?” He gestured to himself and you chuckled, shaking your head at him.

“Of course you are.” You stepped around him patting his shoulder as you went, only to come face to face with the man who occupied your thoughts earlier. “Oh–“

Taehyung smiled at you, “Hey.” He greeted with an awkward wave and you were almost tempted to pick on his lack of snark. But one look at his sheepish grin made you pause.

“Hi?” You returned the bashful grin, your heart pumping blood straight to your face, a flush making its way onto your cheeks.

“I uh, came to pick you up?” He motioned towards the car in the driveway. “Well, we did.” He added to your confused expression. “I don’t have a functioning car.” He clarified, hands running through his hair- a nervous tick you’d picked up on.

“He means to say, he totaled it earlier this month, so I'm the designated driver.” Woo Sik shook his head, turning around to walk to his car. “You coming lovebirds?” He added, smirking to himself as he heard the two of you sputter behind him. “I wanna get going before sunrise.”

****

The party involved a lot of dancing, drinking and avoiding each other. Either using a member of the squad or the toilet as an excuse, you managed to not see Taehyung for longer than a few seconds for most of the night.

Exiting through the back into the garden you took a deep breath in, the stifling atmosphere from inside felt too much to handle. The sound of crickets and birds drowned out the sound of the heavy bass coming from inside the house the further you walked away from it.

“Hey.” The sudden appearance of the man you had been avoiding the whole night made you jump and you couldn’t stop the loud curse that slipped past your lips.

“Shit, I'm sorry!” He apologised, his hand grazing yours. There was a brief awkward silence as you sat down on the bench next to him and gathered the courage to speak up.

“Thank you.” You whispered, your hand pulling at his colourful shirt. This time he chose to wear a pattern, foregoing the usual creams, and you were glad for that. Pretending to observe the swirls and shapes on his top you didn’t raise your eyes to meet his. “For earlier.”

Taehyung was silent for a moment, his eyes taking in the scenery. The sight of the unusually calm ocean, baby waves breaking onto the golden shore brought him a sense of peace. He was annoyed that the waves were choppy that day, however, he did it for a reason and that was enough for him. “It’s nothing.” He shrugged hoping he sounded impassive. “You paid for a lesson which I couldn't deliver, it would’ve been a waste of time to not do this.” He shifted in his seat, the drink in his hands suddenly becoming the most interesting thing he’s ever seen.

“O-oh right, yes of course.” He was right, and you knew it, but you couldn’t help the crestfallen look on your face as you toyed with your top.

You were a fool to think that he may have done it for you. How could he, the only reaction you’d shown him since you met was anger, annoyance, and very little interest. Your city girl, devil may care attitude making you act self sufficient. Never once have you considered that it may be a hindrance. The city was ruthless, you needed to be as strong as possible to survive in the midst of a dog eat dog world. Especially in your field. There was no place for weakness. But maybe this caused you to forget the simple joys of life.

However, since coming here a couple of weeks ago; living in paradise and having the chance to discover a life outside of pavements, and the rush of the 8am crowd trying to get to work, you visibly let down your guard. Meeting Taehyung, as much of a rocky start you two have had in the beginning, ended up being a blessing in disguise. Him and his squad showed you what living outside of your head and responsibilities meant - and you couldn’t be more grateful towards them. Especially the handsome man that decided to make it his personal mission to show you what ‘living life really meant’ - as he put it.

Truth was, despite your differences at the beginning, you knew you’d developed feelings for him. Seeing his affectionate side carefully chipped away at your perfectly crafted city girl tough act. Cautiously glancing at him, you took your time to commit to memory his calm and peaceful features, the ocean breeze blowing through his hair. And as you gazed at him, the shining dots from the city around you casting their glow over the both of you, you let yourself admit you were in love. In that moment nothing else mattered, not even the hefty amount of alcohol you drank. In retrospect, it should have been a warning sign, a signal for you to stop and think about your actions.

At the time, you didn’t care, the alcohol merely liquid courage for you to do what you had always wanted to. Carefully taking a step towards Taehyung, you reached for the hand closer to you, fingers brushing over his. As soon as he froze, you did too, your breath caught in your throat, scenarios of him walking away from you running through your head. It only took a second though, for him to alleviate your worries, his hand completing the journey of yours, fingers tightly woven together.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Taehyung breathed and you looked up at him in surprise. You didn’t know whether you said it out loud, or he was a mind reader, nor did you care. Those words were all you needed to hear. With a satisfied smile you bravely pulled yourself closer to him, head leaning on his shoulder.

****

The blissful feeling that wrapped itself around your whole being as you closed the door behind you, felt like a dream. Taehyung’s hand in yours, the two of you giggling like children as you drunkenly bumped into walls, you had never felt so carefree in your life, and you basked in the feeling, somehow aware, in the back of your mind that it may not last forever. But for that night, nothing else mattered but the two of you, and the summer evening was sweetened by the taste of alcohol on your lips.

“Shhh.” You loudly whispered bursting out into uncontrollable laughter when you realised the ridiculousness of the situation. Pulling him all the way into the garden, you settled for the bench behind the main palm tree. A bench where if you say you couldn’t see the sea, but if you dared look up, you could see the stars hanging above your head. Doing exactly that, your eyes narrowed, your whole attention onto the pitch black blanket littered by jewels.

“What are you doing?” Taehyung asked curiously, when you started counting the stars out loud.

“Counting stars.” You stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You should try it.” You turned around with a soft smile on your face as the moon and stars formed a halo around you, giving you an ethereal glow.

“I–“ he ran a hand through his unruly hair, the dark brown locks reminding you of deep rich chocolate. “You are leaving soon right?” He hesitated, the words bitter on his tongue. You couldn’t find the strength to reply, the words stuck in your throat so you settled for a light nod.

The silence that settled over the two of you felt uncomfortable and you shifted, the bench you two sat on making it difficult for you to not lean against him.

“Sorry.” You mumbled, feeling the beginning of a blush wash over you. He felt hot, the smell of sun and sea clinging onto his skin and you wanted nothing more but to bury yourself into his embrace.

Taehyung’s deep inhale brought you out of your own thoughts, finding the heat emanating off of him distracting. “I wish you wouldn’t leave so soon.” He whispered under his breath, making yours hitch in your throat. You glanced at him from under your lashes, only to discover that his whole attention was on the sky above your heads.

“What are you doing?” You blinked at him, throwing back at him his question from earlier. When he turned his attention back to you, the twinkle in his eyes seemed to shine as brightly as the lights above you.

“I’m wishing on a star.” He simply said, turning his attention back to the blanket of stars, completely oblivious to how his words had shifted your world.

****

Following your blissful few days with Taehyung, reality set in with a call that was enough to bring your world to a halt. Everything seemed to be sinking down into the ocean you had come to love. As you stared at your laptop screen, the words you wrote to Ye Won the day before about still sticking around in a hotel for another few weeks felt completely moot. The thought of having to not only say goodbye to her, but also her brother, the man who showed you that life was indeed more than pavements and pay raises, brought tears in your eyes.

It felt too good to be true, and maybe in a way, it was. You lived your summer of love, as brief as it had been, it was time to return to the real world. The words that kept ringing in your head after the call you had with your manager made you fall deeper and deeper into despair. You’re fired, the project fell through. No explanation as to why this would have been the reason to fire you, nor why they were not firing anyone else that had worked on that project, the call ended and left you empty and lifeless.

“Y/N.” Taehyung’s voice reverberated through the corridor as he made his way in and broke you out of your daze. With a sniffle, you wiped the stream of tears that continued to run down your face, but it was a futile attempt as not a second later he walked into the kitchen, catching you mid sob.

“Y/N.” Taehyung was not expecting to come in and find you looking so crestfallen, the dejected look on your face was a spear through his heart. Blissfully unaware of your situation he wondered what happened. “Are you...crying?” He cautiously approached you, not knowing what to do. His instincts telling him to comfort you, he tried to touch your trembling hand but you pulled away from him with such force he had to take a step back.

“I need to go.” You stood up from the counter, your eyes locked onto the clock ticking on the wall. A good reminder that time cannot stand still for you or your fancies. Taehyung’s pained expression did little to phase you, the panic in your heart, as reality began to set in, overriding any other thought or feeling. Despite the blissful weeks you’ve had with him, being accepted by the crew you knew it was time to wake up and realise this was not your reality.

“No.” Taehyung’s determined tone made you falter, and you looked at him eyes wide open in surprise.

“What do you mean no?” You questioned him, the weight of his words hitting you like a hammer to the head.

“You have been the better part of these past few weeks, I can’t let you go just like that. Not after that night. I don’t know what happened to make you change your mind, but it is fixable.” He explained, his hopeful expression making you resent him, and most importantly yourself. You fell into the trap of summer love, where emotions explode. But just like any other explosion, once the debris settles, there is only dust and ruin left. He had done nothing wrong, if there was one person to be blamed, it would be you. It hurt to know you were the one at fault, yet he would also be paying the price for your stupidity.

“Unfortunately my life doesn’t just revolve around you, or Hawaii, or this carefree attitude. I lost my job Taehyung.” You exclaimed, putting the necessary distance in between you and him, the distance that you should have made your heart set as well. “I have to find a job now, and all my life is back in London. This is borrowed time. Not my life.”

“Can you not see me as part of your life?” He pleaded, a last desperate attempt to grasp at smoke.

“I’m sorry.” You shook your head, the heaviness that settled over your heart almost suffocating. In fact the sight of him did little to bring any good memories that you’ve had in this place, it only served as a reminder of what you couldn't have. Of what was not yours to take. “I’m sorry, I-” You paused wondering what you were doing, why were you bartering your heart like that. You cared for him, that much you knew yet, your mind knew it wasn’t enough for you to drop what you had known for a whole life.

“My flight is leaving soon.” You whispered, the silence that followed your earlier outburst too much for your guilt to be able to handle. You knew you were damaging a budding relationship, that you dared not think, may have been the best relationship you’ve ever had.

Taehyung didn’t dare utter another word. He couldn’t. He knew you needed to get away, he was more than aware that you needed space, even if that meant he had to watch you drag your suitcases out the door that shut right behind you, putting more and more distance between him and you.

****

“Georgie, no!” You shook your head vehemently at your friend, her pleading face doing nothing to soften your resolve. “I am not going to accept this.”

You quickly paced around the room as you hurriedly unpacked your bags from your trip doing your best to ignore the other person lounging like a cat on your sofa. You’d been away for a couple of days, the old city of Edinburgh being your destination. You may have enjoyed your time there a bit too much given the workload of your new job. So much that you barely had time to breathe. But this was what you needed. Time spent not at work meant time for your brain to start thinking about an island, and waves, and most importantly, surfers. Specifically one surfer.

“Come on, Y/N!” Georgie’s pout almost reached the floor yet you still wouldn’t budge. “It’s been a while since you’ve been on a date!” She tried to reason with you. Unbeknownst to her, this only served as fuel for your rising anger.

“Look Georgie, I have been on a date, and I did tell you about it.” You angrily slammed the dirty laundry in the basket. “And before you say anything, yes I did enjoy myself but–“ you paused, the strength you had earlier waning. Suddenly you felt tired, and with a sigh you let yourself fall onto the couch next to her. Rubbing your eyes, your mind once again invaded by sun kissed skin and the smell of salt, you tried your hardest to keep everything at bay.

“Oh love.” Georgie shifted on the couch, her warm hand enveloping yours in comfort. “I’m sorry, it’s just–“ she paused, offering your desperate look a rueful smile. “I just want to see you happy. You lost your job–“ you started to protest but she held her hand up to stop you. “As I was saying, you lost your job, and lost your heart, and all in the span of two months. And then you come back, get a new job within weeks and act like nothing has happened. I’m just worried about you.” She squeezed your hand and you felt your carefully crafted mask slip away. She was your best friend, if you couldn’t talk to her then who could you talk to?

“I just, I miss him.” The admittance tumbling out of your mouth made you feel so much lighter. Not better by any means, it just reiterated the feeling of hurt and hopelessness. You were more than aware it was your fault you’ve been feeling like this.

“It’s my fault.” You whispered, the desperation causing your voice to crack. Georgie sighed, and enveloped you into a hug, allowing you to hide your wayward tears into her top.

“It’s not your fault.” She argued, patting your back in a comforting way. “It isn’t.”

“But it is!” You sniffed, another sob wrecking through your body. “He confessed for God’s sake! And I left!” Not bothering to hide your sobs, you let yourself go, crying for what may have been, crying for Taehyung and his crestfallen expression when you announced you were leaving.

“Go back.” Georgie simply said and you pulled away from her, an incredulous look on your face.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he doesn’t want to hear from me again.” You shook your head, your tears at bay for now. Sliding away from her, you put some distance between the two of you and you rubbed away the last stubborn tears. “It’s ok, I can do this. It’s just another hiccup.” You didn’t know where this strength was coming from, but you weren’t going to question it. You were not back in Hawaii anymore, no. You were in London. And you couldn't afford to live the same life you did in Hawaii. Emotions would have to wait.

“Right.” Georgie nodded at you unconvinced.

“Look–“ you sighed, “I will go on this blind date. If only to get used to being amongst Londoners again.” You laughed wryly, the feel of a new resolve making you hopeful. Yet, why did it feel like your heart was shattering even further?

When you agreed to go on a blind date you weren’t expecting to find yourself in front of the Tiki bar in the middle of the city, completely overdressed for the location. Glancing up at the colourful sign you sighed, trust Georgie to set you up with someone you would most likely not click with in the least.

Entering the bar, you tried to not get overwhelmed at the overly done decorations, tempted to stop a waiter, tell them how much you hated the place and leave. Had it been you before London, you may have even done that, but now you swallowed your words and instead approached them for a table.

“What name?” He inquired, tapping on his Ipad and you paused realising you had no name to give them.

“Uh, Y/N?” You tried, but when he shook his head your face fell. How were you meant to find the table without a name? You couldn’t just walk around the whole place asking people if they were waiting for their very late blind date.

“Excuse me, it’s Kim.” A deep voice spoke from behind you and you froze. Not only did you recognise the name, but also you recognised the voice better than your own. You dreamt of that voice. You didn’t dare turn around, not wanting to get your hopes up. Kim was a fairly common name, and London was big, maybe you were wrong.

Steeling your heart, hoping it didn’t jump out of your chest with how fast it was beating, you turned around.

“Hello, I'm Kim Taehyung, I believe I am your date for the evening?” Your mouth fell, eyes wide open and you seemed to have lost the ability to speak. Only when the waiter asked you to follow him did you move, your feet carrying you automatically as your mind was too busy trying to comprehend the situation.

“This place is all wrong.” You heard the mutter coming from behind you and you would have laughed had it not been for the rampant way your heart seemed to be racing. You wanted to turn around, to ask him what he thought he was doing there, but you didn’t have the courage to do so.

Brought to a table near the open windows, you chuckled at the discrepancy between the atmosphere inside the bar and the crisp air of nighttime London.

“It’s ridiculous isn’t it?” Taehyung joined you at the table, his hesitancy to pull the chair for you sorted by the waiter. Still chuckling, you glanced at him, the sparkle in his eyes making your breath catch. You would be lying if you said you hadn’t missed this, the glint in his eyes when his boxy wide smile took over. The mole on the tip of his nose, which you couldn’t see because of the lights in the bar but you knew it was there, having been close enough to him to observe it in detail.

“You’re not a Londoner.” You whispered to yourself and he laughed lightly, having heard you. “What–“ your voice cracked and you cleared your throat, clammy hands wiping themselves onto your skirt underneath the table. “What are you doing here?” You decided to take the bull by the horns, not wanting to waste another minute with mindless chat. The two of you have been through enough to skirt around sensitive topics.

Taehyung looked at you, the smile slipping off his face slowly, until it was gone, his expression becoming thoughtful. You had the urge to poke the crease between his furrowed eyebrows, loathing the knowledge he felt like this. But you chose to stay seated, hands gripping at your skirt, waiting for his response. You didn’t know when he became the one person who could make you or break you, but he did. The power this man had over you was absolutely impressive.

“I, uh–“ he rubbed the back of his head, a sheepish look on his face.

“Better yet, how did this,” you motioned between the two of you “–happen?” If you saw the flash of hurt cross Taehyung’s you didn’t mention it. Patiently waiting for him to answer, you knew you were putting him selfishly in a tight spot. He wasn’t the one who decided to give up on you. It was the other way round.

“Ye Won and your friend may have had something to do with it.” He sighed, his attention to the bypassers across the street. He tried hard to not look at you, he didn’t want to see once more the rejection in your eyes.

Waiting for him to turn around to face you, you stayed silent. You wanted to reach out across the table, his hand conveniently placed for you to grab it. But the knowledge of what he may be feeling stopped you, you had no right.

“But, why?” You stammered, your thoughts in disarray. There was so much you wanted to tell him, ask him, but you couldn’t get yourself to utter them outloud.

Taehyung turned his gaze back to you, the intensity with which his eyes bore through you made you shiver, your breath caught in your throat. It felt as if your soul lay naked before him, and as much as you wanted to look away you couldn’t. For a few seconds neither of you dared to break the silence that settled between the two of you.

“I promised–“ he paused to gather his thoughts, and you waited breath abated. “I promised I would always be there.” He admitted and you let out an involuntary whimper, his words piercing through your heart.

Taehyung gathered all his strength to carry on with his confession, the thought of you rejecting him once again weighing heavily on his mind. Last time he bit the bullet, diving in head on not considering what you may have been feeling, his own wishes overpowering any other considerations. “So I want to be there, regardless of how you want me to be there for you.”

He tried to be as nonchalant as possible, but the pleading look he offered you betrayed the emotional storm he felt inside. His words shifted something deep inside of you. As a city girl born and raised between pavements and tall buildings, you learnt that courage to stick up for yourself was an important survival trait. Hearing him confess his feelings not only once, but twice, made you realise that courage lies in more than one aspect. And you’ve been nothing but a coward.

“I’m in love with you.” The words tumbled out of your mouth before you could stop them. Eyes wide at your own admission you waited for him to say something.

“I–“ Taehyung felt disarmed. He had a long speech planned, he knew you’d not be easily swayed so he came with a foolproof plan, that not only Ye Won may have had a hand in but also your friends. To hear you say you were in love with him, as ecstatic as it made him feel, his brain struggled to catch up with what was happening.

“Look, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have sprung this on you. But I don’t think I would've been able to live with myself if I didn’t get this off my chest.” You reasoned. “I was stupid, and inconsiderate, and I’m sorry–“

The warmth of his hand enveloping yours made you freeze, your eyes locked onto the table, unable to meet his. Neither of you said a word for a while, the tropical music playing in the background making you feel uneasy.

“Where is the waiter?” You tried your hardest to change the subject, eyes scouring the place, doing your best to not glance at the dark haired man in front of you. The subtlety with which you tried to pull your hand away from him didn’t go unnoticed as Taehyung squeezed it, his attempt at keeping you there with him.

“Y/N.” The desperate plea in his voice stopped you dead in your tracks, your eyes now searching his instead of a place to escape to. The pain in his eyes made you realise he thought you were planning to reject him once more, completely oblivious to reality.

“You think I am going to leave you?” You breathed out, shocked. Taehyung didn’t reply but he didn’t need to, the frown marring his face was enough proof. You knew it wasn’t appropriate, but the ridiculousness of the situation made you burst out in laughter.

“I just told you I loved you, you idiot.” You huffed, Taehyung’s eyes widening at your obvious annoyance.

“But–“ He stammered, trying to make sense as to why you’d ask about the waiter.

“We should go.” You supplied shrugging while still looking around for the missing person. The relief Taehyung felt at your words could be easily read in the chuckle that escaped him. “I don’t know about you, but I'd rather not cause a scene here.” You finished, and when you still couldn’t locate the waiter you abruptly got up, pulling Taehyung along with you.

“Are you saying this is going to go down with a big emotional confession?” He couldn’t help himself as he teased you, the glimmer of mischievousness you found in his eyes making your heart beat faster.

“Oh shush you, otherwise I’ll leave you here.” You said as you navigated through the tables. There was nothing wrong with leaving before telling someone, but with his hand in yours, the lightness in your heart after your admittance made you feel like you were a teenager about to jump into the neighbour’s pool for a midnight swim.

“Can’t do that,” he teased as you both made your way outside into the chillier London air. Once out of view, he pulled you to him. “You just admitted you loved me.”

Hearing him say the words out loud made your breath catch in your throat. And without a second thought you stood on your tiptoes, your palms resting on his chest for stability. “Well loverboy, I can always take it back.” You whispered, your lips ghosting over his in a shy kiss.

In hindsight, you should have known not to tease him, as the force with which he wrapped his arms around your middle and pulled you to him, his lips searching for yours took you by surprise. The heat of his lips, slightly bruising, felt familiar, like home, and you soon lost yourself in it. A satisfied sigh escaped you and you let your hands wonder, as he coaxed your lips open, his tongue searching for yours.

The loud whistle from a taxi driving past you made you remember you were still in the middle of the city, out in the open for everyone to see.

“And we still managed to cause a scene.” You laughed pulling yourself away, his hand not leaving your midriff. “Let's go, where are you staying?” You asked, quickly realising you didn’t even know why he was there in the first place.

“The office.” He shrugged as if it wasn’t an important bit of information and you looked at him questioningly. “I uh–, came here for the opening of my new branch. My office decided to extend from the US to the UK which was the perfect opportunity .” The tone of his voice was so neutral you could’ve fooled yourself he was talking about the weather instead of important information which he ought to have shared a while ago.

“You–“ you stopped yourself from chastising him, he could fill you in on this later. For now you just wanted to enjoy your newfound summer love and hopefully help it grow into something more as time went by.

“You didn’t think I only surfed right?” He laughed, his fingers digging into your hip as he glanced down at you. Blushing at his softened gaze you shook your head and mumbled under your breath. “What was that?” He cocked his head to the side, his smile growing bigger.

“Doesn’t matter, you can tell me all this when we are on the tube.” You hurriedly supplied, before looking at him with an impish smile. “Or, we could–“ you stopped walking and turned around to face him. “Just do,” you placed a suggestive hand on his chest, your voice low, “other things on the tube.”

“The tube?” His eyes widened and you laughed reaching up on your tiptoes to kiss him again. Grabbing his hand and giving it a squeeze you pulled away and winked at him.

“Don’t worry, it’s like riding a wave.”

main masterlist

#taehyung #kim taehyung #taehyung x reader #taehyung fanfiction #summer love au #taehyung fluff #bts x reader #bts fanfiction #romance #kth #btshoneyhive #bangtaninn #btswritingcafe #bangtanarmynet #castlebangtan #silverspoon #btsgoldnet #summer love

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disturbedbydesign · 3 years

Text

The Widow and the Wolf - Chapter 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x dark!exWidow!reader

Summary: After Natasha Romanoff took down the Red Room, the former Widows scattered to the wind. Raised to be a killing machine and released into the world with nothing and no one, you decided to use your newfound autonomy to take down the bad guys of your choosing. But now Natasha is riddled with guilt for leaving you on your own. She wants to recruit you, rehabilitate you, make you part of a team again. But the rest of the squad has reservations, and no one is more against you than Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: Graphic violence; Mentions of domestic violence, rape, pedophilia, human trafficking, child sex trafficking; eventual Dubcon (not Bucky); eventual smut; slow(ish) burn enemies-to-lovers. [More warnings will be added as necessary but these are the Big Bads.] 18+ only, no minors.

If you prefer to read on AO3, you can do so here.

Chapter Two

It’s almost midnight by the time Garcia is officially gator food, but you’re too wired for sleep. You head out, driving the hour and change to Miami, with a stop on the way to clean yourself up a bit in a gas station bathroom. You check in to the swanky South Beach hotel you’ve decided to treat yourself to, because you’ve earned it. The world is a better place without that man in it, the impressionable young girls of Miami are a bit safer tonight, and that’s enough for you. For the moment, it’s enough.

Your next target is a man you’ve been searching for for a long time, and he’s your own personal project, but tonight you aren’t going to think about him. Tonight you’re going to allow yourself a moment to breathe, to celebrate your victories—a party of one, as usual, but satisfying all the same. You don’t have that much time left before last call at the clubs so you get yourself together quickly and hit the spot closest to your hotel. Even at this time of night, there’s a line to get in, but one look at you and the bouncer is opening that velvet rope and beckoning you inside.

The place reeks of sweat and unchecked hormones as you make your way to the bar, the booming bass drowning out any and all thoughts you might have, which is exactly the way you want it tonight. You order a double vodka rocks and you wait to see what kind of man will approach you this evening: angel or devil. Of course, none of them are really angels, not in the club at this time of night, but some are far worse than others.

You have no problem with decent men. There’s nothing wrong with trying to get laid. It’s normal, it’s natural—you know that now. You’ve even learned to enjoy consensual sex with strangers. At first it was difficult for you—your body having belonged to others for your entire life. But it wasn’t long before you started to enjoy the power of choice, of having control over what your body did and who with.

A man approaches you—brown hair, blue eyes, muscular—and you hate that your first thought is of him but you can’t help it. The Winter Soldier had always been the stuff of nightmares—a ghost story to some, but the Widows knew better. He was terrifying, yes, but the few people who had seen the man’s face and lived to tell about it had always remarked on how handsome he was, even with that cold, dead-eyed stare. You’d seen pictures of him after he came out from under all that brainwashing, and they had proven the reports correct, but you’d never seen him in person until tonight. You couldn’t stand the sight of him in some ways, but in others…

You turn to the attractive stranger and smile, waiting to see what he’ll do.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he yells over the music. You raise your nearly full cocktail in his direction and he smiles awkwardly. “That’s the best line I got,” he says, and he introduces himself with a name you don’t commit to memory.

You give him a fake name and he reaches his hand out to shake. He’s got a disarming personality, but that doesn’t mean you trust him. You know better than anyone that there’s no better tactic than to appear non-threatening. Still, he’s incredibly attractive and you’re in the mood for a party of two tonight.

You let him talk for a while—about his job, about his family—and you pepper in a few lies here and there. He hasn’t laid a hand on you or invaded your personal space in any way that isn’t necessary among the crush of people at the bar. When the bartender signals last call, you decide that he’ll do. You’re rarely wrong about people, and even if you are, you could snap his neck like a twig if necessary.

You allow him to walk you out, expecting him to make a move, but he doesn’t. He just stands there with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, rocking a bit awkwardly on his feet.

You smile and tilt your head. “Nightcap?” you ask, and he follows you like a puppy to your hotel room.

You don’t want another drink and neither does he, but he waits for your signal before he tries anything. You try not to make it all seem transactional, but it’s not like your heart is in it. You let him kiss you and touch you, albeit briefly, and you pretend to enjoy it even though that’s not what you want. What you want is to be on top of him, using his body for the pleasure of your own, and it’s not long before you’re doing exactly that. Your beautiful stranger certainly doesn’t mind, not even when you close your eyes and allow yourself to think about someone else inside you—what his face might look like all twisted up and blissed out, what sounds might spill from his pretty lips, what the cold metal might feel like against your hot sweaty skin.

You make yourself cum and then kick him out (kindly). You’re gone by sunrise. You’ve got places to be.

*****

Natasha sits cross-legged on her couch, a pint of ice cream in one hand and scrolling her tablet with the other. After Miami, you’ve been a ghost. None of her usual contacts have been able to give her anything useful. You’ve gone underground, and she knows she won’t find you if you really don’t want to be found. Whoever your next target is, it has to be somebody big if you’ve covered your tracks this well.

She doesn’t regret not taking you in, even though Bucky had complained the entire ride back about how leaving you there was a mistake. But, as she’d told him, you have to want to come in. Trying to force your hand is not only incredibly dangerous, it defeats the purpose. Natasha doesn’t want to retraumatize you; she wants to help you. There’s no point in trading a floating cage for a gilded one.

She doesn’t realize she’s finished the pint until the spoon hits the cardboard. When she goes to pull another one from the freezer, her phone rings.

“What’s up, Rogers?”

Steve’s voice holds a barely contained anger that Natasha knows well. “You need to come in.”

She should have known Bucky would rat her out, but it still pisses her off. “Steve, it’s getting late. Can we do this in the morning?”

“I don’t know,” Steve replies. “Are you gonna steal another jet in the middle of the night?”

“Technically, I didn’t steal-”

“Natasha, please,” he says, and she can picture the set of his jaw on the other end of the line.

She sighs. “Alright, fine. I’m leaving now.”

When she gets to the tower, most of the usual suspects are gathered around the conference table. Steve looks pissed. Tony looks amused. Sam and Wanda look concerned. And while, to anyone else Bucky would be wearing no expression at all, Natasha can tell that he’s feeling a bit guilty—as he should, he gave her his word. He mouths “I’m sorry” when she sits down at the table and she raises an eyebrow at him that he knows to translate as a middle finger.

Steve tries to speak but Natasha cuts him off. “Save me the lecture, Rogers. I’m not going to apologize.”

Steve’s voice is stern but not unkind. “This needs to be a group decision, Natasha, and as of right now, you’re the only person who thinks this is a good idea.”

“That’s not actually true,” she says. “Wanda? Do you want to tell Steve what you told me?”

Wanda looks a little shocked to be called out but she answers, if a bit hesitantly. “It sounds like she needs help, Steve. Like she’s lost. I… I know what that feels like—when everyone thinks you’re a monster.”

Wanda and Nat’s eyes both turn to Bucky, looking for any recognition whatsoever that he, too, knows exactly where they’re coming from, but he’s completely stolid. Underneath his blood is boiling and he feels like he wants to crawl out of his skin, but the surface remains placid.

Tony pops a blueberry into his mouth and swivels in his chair to face Natasha. “So, let me see if I’m understanding this correctly, Romanoff. You want to bring in one of your former compatriots who has spent the last… what?... year or so on a globetrotting murder spree? Am I getting the general idea here, or am I missing something? I have to be missing something, because if I’m not missing something, this is categorically batshit.”

“It’s more complicated than that, Stark. But essentially, yes. That’s exactly what I want to do.”

Tony laughs. “Wow. OK. Well, Rogers—you and I rarely agree on… well… anything, but I gotta say, I’m Team Cap with this one.”

Natasha crosses her arms and huffs her displeasure.

“I’m sorry,” Tony says, looking around and addressing the room, “but don’t we usually catch mass murderers? Isn’t that kind of our thing?”

The longer the conversation goes on, the more uncomfortable Bucky gets. It wasn’t lost on him that Tony’s eyes lingered on him when he threw out the term “mass murderers,” and he’s learned that it’s better to just let Tony go off when he feels the need. Still, he needs to get out of the room. He needs to take a walk, get some air, push all thoughts of you and this whole mess out of his mind, because if he doesn’t, he thinks he might go crazy.

“Are we done here?” Bucky asks.

“No,” Steve replies. “Sam? Anything you want to say?”

Sam takes a minute to gather his thoughts. “Look, Nat, I understand where you’re coming from on this. I really do. And it would be different if she was willing to come in on her own. But it sounds to me like she isn’t interested. She wants to be doing exactly what she’s doing. You can’t rehabilitate that. You just can’t.”

Steve looks apologetically at Natasha. “I’m sorry,” he says, “but it’s a no. I’m not necessarily saying we go after her-”

“I am,” Tony interjects. “I’m saying that. That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

Steve glares at Tony and it shuts him up. “Leave it alone, Tony.”

“You’re seriously telling me you want to leave this girl on the streets knowing what we know? Come on, Rogers.”

Everyone starts to raise their voice at once—everyone except Bucky, who is already sneaking out and halfway to the door—when Natasha shouts, “Enough!”

She takes a deep breath and blows it out, speaking softer now. “I’ll find her and I’ll bring her in, whether she wants to come or not. But it stays in this room—no cops, no agents, just the team. When I get her here, I’ll figure out what to do with her.”

“Fine,” Steve says, and the rest of the team assents. “Buck, you go with her.”

Every cell in Bucky’s body is screaming not to do it, but he never could say no to Steve. He grunts his agreement, refusing to even look at Natasha before storming out of the room and out into the humid mid-August evening. He walks all the way from Midtown to Brooklyn, but he still can’t shake the malaise that’s settled over him ever since Natasha first came to him with her plan.

Bucky knows that he should understand—and, in a way, he does—but he just can’t bring himself to feel anything for you except disgust. Natasha sees something in you that he just doesn’t see. All Bucky wanted to do when he finally got free of it all was prove to everyone that he was a good man—that he was not the things that he’d done. It took a lot of work and a lot of time, but he’s finally in a place where he’s separated himself from the Winter Soldier. That isn’t who he is; it never was.

Steve always knew that, and Natasha hadn’t taken much convincing. The others, though—some of them still don’t fully trust him, and if he thinks about it for too long, it cuts deep. So when Bucky thinks of you—free now, but still violent and bloodthirsty and absolutely unrepentant—it makes him sick. After all the work Bucky has done, how can Natasha look at you and him and think that you’re the same?

Not everyone comes out of their traumas unscathed. Sometimes people can’t come back from the things that have happened to them. That’s you. That’s who you are. You’re not good, you never will be, and as sad as it may make him, Bucky truly believes that you are beyond redemption. You don’t need to be saved; you need to be stopped.

Bucky gets a text as he unlocks the door to his Brooklyn Heights apartment. He’s been waiting for it, hoping for it, and now he has it. Natasha doesn’t know where you are yet, but he does. One of his contacts in Bucharest has a line on you, and he’s not going to let you get away this time. Much as it pains him, he doesn’t trust Natasha to keep her word to the team and take you in against your will. No, Bucky is going to handle this himself. You may be a Widow, but you’re no match for the White Wolf.

CHAPTER THREE >>>

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #sebastian stan #dark!fic #dark!reader #the widow and the wolf

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igotbulletproof-insomnia · 3 years

Text

Adopting Bangtan 09

01 previous

AN UNLIKELY WEDDING

You bit your lip as you stared at your phone. You had an email from Jimin and Taehyung’s mother. Song Jieun was your old coworker who you had adored, but who also tricked you into taking care of her children so that she could get married without worry. Your respect and opinion of her had gone down significantly with that move, but you… didn’t exactly understand, but you did appreciate that she gave her children to someone who could properly take care of them instead of leaving them to fend for themselves which had seemed to be her original plan.

What’s wrong?” Seokjin looked up from the video game he was playing, ignoring the cut scene he had watched a dozen times before now to focus on you. You could hear the younger boys playing in their bedroom, the sounds of legos clattering and mouth-made explosions louder than what their closed bedroom door could block off. They were sounds that had become familiar in the past six months, sounds that used to be made by one child and were nowhere near this boisterous.

“Nothing,” you shrugged while you scrolled through the email a second time and tried to sort out your feelings. Seokjin’s stare burned into your cheek and rolled your eyes. “I mean it, nothing is wrong. Just…” You could feel your face twisting into a dissatisfied expression and tried to relax it back into something more neutral. There were times when you found you could rely on the eldest of your children, and times when you thought it was better to keep things to yourself, and you weren’t sure which one this was.

“Someone emailed me,” you hedge. “I’m just trying to decide how I feel.”

“That’s your worried face,” said Seokjin. “You only make that face about work and about us. But you also whine when you’re worried about work, so it’s about us, isn’t it? Which one of the kids is failing school?”

“No one is failing school,” you laugh. “Namjoon could be doing better, but I’m certain he just doesn’t care as much as his teachers want him to. Neither does Yoongi…. You know, as a teacher myself, I should probably be more concerned.”

“You’re appropriately concerned,” Seokjin reassured you. “Why should you worry about things you can’t control? You’re just going to age faster.”

“You’re going to stop calling me old one day.”

“Lying isn’t healthy,”

“Says the kid who lied his way into adoption.”

“I took advantage of my situation. That’s not lying, that’s cunning.”

“I didn’t raise you like this,” you say, standing.

“No, but that’s kind of the point, isn’t it? I’m raising myself, six kids, and my guardian. I can’t tell if I’m doing a piss poor job or not.”

“Language, Kim Seokjin!”

“Dinner, seonsaengnim!” he shouted back. The problem was, you aren’t sure if he successfully distracted you from your concerns or if you successfully distracted him from you.

===

Song Jieun’s email bothered you intermittently throughout the week. It’s not like you forgot she existed. You’ve received a hefty sum into your bank account every month for taking care of the boys, enough to make you wonder exactly why her new husband didn’t want to take care of them when he would probably be spending a lot less money if they were under his own roof. So no, Song Jieun wasn’t someone you forgot existed unlike like you could the rest of your kids’ parents, she just… wasn’t relevant. So it bothered you that she was trying to make herself relevant now, after six months of silence.

“You’re doing the thing again,” Seokjin poked your face. You startled, unaware that he had approached, but thankfully kept your coffee mug full. “What are you so worried about?”

“Nothing,” you say for the umpteenth time that week. “I’m not worried about anything.”

“You’ve been ‘not-worried’ since last Thursday,” Seokjin argued.

“So then why do you keep asking me what’s wrong?” You didn’t have to turn to see the weighted stare he gave you, you could feel it. That was the thing about your kids, all of them. They had a way of making you feel like you were the one in trouble, you were the one being raised instead of the other way around. Some days you were convinced that they were the ones keeping you around, explicitly for financial reasons.

“If you’re just going to insist on being stubborn,” Seokjin sighed. He poured two cups of coffee, one for himself and one for Yoongi, and turned the kettle on for Namjoon. The other boys would be zombie-walking their way into the kitchen for breakfast soon, so you and Seokjin set to work preparing leftovers from dinner a few nights ago.

“Song Jieun wants to visit the boys,” after a long, silent moment, you finally admit your concern. The kettle was puffing it’s pre-whistle warning, so you turned it off, sitting the pot on its wicker table mat until Namjoon made his way to the table.

“Who’s Song Jieun?” asked Seokjin. “Which boy? Not me, right?”

“No, of course not you, silly. You won’t even tell me your parents’ names. How am I supposed to know when they come to visit?”

“Trust me, they won’t,” Seokjin’s tone left no room for discussion, just a sad or regretful sort of resentment.

“If you say so,” you shrugged off your curiosity, familiar with how closed-off this kid got when it came to his home life before you. “Song Jieun is Taehyung’s mom and Jimin’s stepmom.”

“The coworker who tricked you into adopting them?”

“That’s what you got out of that?”

“Isn’t that what happened?”

“That’s besides the point,”

“That is the point.”

“What’s what point?” Namjoon shuffled into the kitchen.

“Our guardian is trying to decide if the twins should see their mother.” Seokjin answered.

“That’s not what I said,”

“That’s what you were going to say.”

“Everyone else gets nice, obedient, adoring children,” you grumbled. “I get sassy monsters who boss me around.”

“You raised us like this,” Namjoon said absently.

“I did not, you raised yourselves.”

“Same thing,” both boys speak in unison.

“I’m giving you two away.”

“Good luck living with Yoongi without us,” Seokjin shrugged. “You’ll be begging me to come back by the end of the week.”

“Joke’s on you, this is the end of the week.”

“My point still stands.”

“Okay, I quit, I won’t win this one,” you literally throw your hands in the air.”

“Good,” Jin grins at you in that cheeky way he’s mastered, taunting you.

“So what’s this about the twin’s mom though?” asked Namjoon. “I thought she…” he trailed off, but you understood what he was saying, or rather, what he didn’t want to say. I thought she didn’t want them.

“Yes and no,” you say. “She just… it’s… not exactly complicated, not if I were in her position, but… let’s just say, some people are stupid and not everyone has the same priorities.”

“Song Jieun chose to make herself happy over taking care of her kids?” Seokjin translated. “She didn’t want to take them to live with her new husband?”

“More or less,” You agree, taking note of the bitterness in his tone.

“You’re not allowed to get married,” Namjoon mumbled from the table.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re not allowed to leave us or get rid of us because you want to be married,” Namjoon repeated. He’s obviously still half asleep from the way he lays his head down in his arms, but your heart clenches just a little bit from the casual desperation he speaks with.

“If I were to get married,” you said, “my future spouse would know that they come in eighth place anyway. I’m not getting rid of you, even your original parents would have to fight me. God will have to fight me.”

“But you’re still not allowed,” said Namjoon.

“Drink your tea, you’re talking crazy,” said Seokjin. “Our guardian will have to actually date first, and we all know that won’t happen.”

“The disrespect, I tell you!”

It’s after breakfast and during the chaos of getting seven young boys dressed and prepared for school when Seokjin knocks on your bedroom door frame, wearing an anxious expression.

“... Can I talk to you for a moment?”

“What’s up?” you asked. Seokjin walked fully into the room and closed the door.

“About… the twins? I… I don’t know what you’re thinking about, and that’s valid, but… I think you should maybe let them see her?” Seokjin didn’t fidget like the rest of the kids did. He leaned against the door, arms crossed and focused his eyes fully on you. It was moments like these when you realized exactly how mature your eldest was, and you recognized that most of it wasn’t because of you. Namjoon and Yoongi were you. Seokjin had probably been raising himself for longer than he’s lived with you.

“Okay,” you said.

“I just… if it was me, I would want to know that she still cared, right? And she does, I guess. You mentioned that she sends them money, and she wrote you a letter asking forgiveness, so that has to mean something. I just don’t want them feeling abandoned like the rest of us. Not if they don’t have to.”

“I’m just worried that it will confuse them even more,” you admitted. “It took weeks before Jimin would talk to us openly. Jieun-ssi isn’t going to stay. She’ll come for an afternoon or a day, take the kids out, spoil them, and then bring them back here, and they’ll both be wondering why. And I don’t know how to answer that question.”

“With the truth, obviously,” Seokjin rolled his eyes. “You’re always straight-forward with us. Why should this be any different?” Because they’re younger than you were. Because they were given away, not abandoned. Because their parent still cares from a distance. Because I don’t like making you all cry. Because picking up pieces has never been fun.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” you said instead. “I’ll think about it.”

“Okay,” Seokjin nodded, and you can see him visibly deflate, relieved to be finished with the conversation. “That’s all I wanted to say. Don’t forget to take your lunch with you.”

“Make sure all the kids have theirs,” you countered.

“It’s funny because you thought I didn’t already do that,”

“I love you, Kim Seokjin,” was your response.

“I love you too, I guess.”

=======

Your talk with Seokjin gave you a new perspective, but you still felt apprehensive about everything. You just didn’t like the idea of hurting Jimin and Taehyung any more than they already have been. What type of guardian would you be if you just let them walk back into heartbreak? What if this was just a one-time visit and Song Jieun never came to see her children again? What do you do when the boys ask to see her again? You had been lucky that you only had to have one conversation about not being able to take the boys to see their mother in the last six months, but if Jieun could make the time and the trip to come visit, then what will be your excuse now? What if this visit was actually a prelude to taking the boys back home with her?

Oh.

Huh.

So that was the real problem then. You didn’t want the boys to leave you. As much as you groaned and complained about taking in so many kids -- usually just to yourself, but sometimes your stress got the better of you in front of the kids -- you loved them. Each one of them, you loved and adored them and the thought of any of them leaving you or being taken away hurt. Not only that, but where in the hell would any of those parents get off, what right did any of them have to come to you and even fix their mouths to ask you for “their” kid back? You had words prepared for each and every so-called “parent” of all seven of your boys, copies of your lost child police reports, drafts of parental rights transfer papers, the phone number for several NCPA lawyers, and a fist just itching to make contact.

But what if Taehyung and Jimin preferred to be with Jieun anyway? She is their mother. She raised them for years, even if she was Jimin’s stepmother. You’ve only had the “twins” as you and the older boys had taken to calling them, for six months. Why would they want to stay with you?

“Okay, but she didn’t say she wants to take the kids,” you told yourself against the slew of depressing thoughts. You retrieved your phone from your pocket and opened your emails. Finally pressed reply. “She just wants to visit. A visit is… safe. It’ll be okay.”

Probably.

=======

Later that day you received a new email. Song Jieun will be in town that weekend. Tomorrow.

It took a lot of effort for you not to swear and make plans to take the kids out of town.

=======

Song Jieun was pretty. She wasn’t particularly tall or “skinny” like what TV liked to portray, but she was hippy and had a cute face and short hair that she curled most days. She favored dresses with blazers or oversized sweaters and skinny jeans, with pale makeup and dark pink lipsticks. It was easy to pick her out at the cafe she asked to meet at. She sat alone off to the side, a coffee already in front of her, but two plates with fruit-decorated cakes were also placed nearby. You considered telling her that the boys weren’t allowed any sweets right now. It wouldn’t have been a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either. They weren’t allowed sweet things like cakes until after dinner and only when they behaved well. Still, you decided that was just your frustration and jealousy talking. You didn’t want to punish the two boys because of their mother, so you bite your tongue and hold your bitterness and let it go.

“Jieun-ssi,” you greet uselessly, as the moment Taehyung and JImin saw her they sprinted across the room to tackle the woman in hugs. Jieun’s smile stretched across her face and she cooed and made cute noises as she greeted her sons in return. You felt something creep in your chest that felt a lot like jealousy. But you weren’t jealous. You couldn’t be. You just hugged them this morning when they tried to tickle you awake. You held both of their hands from your house to the cafe. You had nothing to be jealous of, they were your kids now.

“How have you been?” Jieun asked when you sat down across from her. Jimin and Taehyung were already seated and digging into the cakes she bought for them. You barely had a chance to answer before your chatterbox was rattling off every activity he’s done for the last six months to his mother. Jimin grinned and threw in his two-cent’s worth every few minutes, but generally let Taehyung carry the conversation for him. And you, in spite of all of the emotions pressing on your chest and clouding your judgement and making you really, really want to shake Song Jieun, you enjoy yourself. You watch your boys -- your boys -- smile and chatter and sing and show off for their mother. You wonder if they’ll be okay going home, if you’ll have tears to clean up later, or arguments to break up, or just pieces to sort out and glue, but right now the kids are happy, and right now, that’s what you’ll enjoy.

=======

Taehyung climbed into your bed that night. He should have been asleep an hour ago at least, you’re sure, but he’s seemed to have a lot on his mind since this afternoon, and you’ve been letting the kid have his own space to figure out his thoughts. As hyper as he normally is, Taehyung is also prone to moments where he just sits and fiddles and thinks and you’ve learned that it doesn’t do any good to bother him about it.

“Can’t sleep?” Taehyung shook his head as he slid across the blankets to bury his face into your shirt. You curled an arm around his shoulders and held him close.

“Mommy…” Taehyung started and trailed off. “Is Mommy happy without me?”

It felt like your heart stopped with the words of his question, but you continued to brush his hair with your fingers. It was a difficult question to answer. You wanted to be honest, but you also didn’t want to hurt him. Unfortunately, there weren’t too many ways to answer without hurting Taehyung one way or another.

“What do you mean?” Taehyung was quiet for another short moment before he spoke again.

“Mommy… didn’t seem sad. And she said she’ll see us another time. And… she got married, but she didn’t want to keep me and Jiminie… So I started wondering… is she happy now? Happier than she was before when it was just me and her and Jiminie? Did we -- I don’t think -- I --” And the kid seemed to break then, all of the tears that hadn’t been shed for six months seeming to finally culminate into an emotional outburst. You shushed him, holding him just a little more tightly, and the fingers in his hair moved down to stroke his back. This was the thing you had wanted to avoid, and while part of you felt satisfied to be right, most of you just fought your own tears. It hurt to see one of your kids so hurt. You aren’t a stranger to crying children, but this emotional distress was something that never got better. You thought that maybe Jieun had talked to the boys beforehand, maybe Taehyung had dealt with his emotions before he came to live with you and that was why he seemed so well-adjusted. Clearly, Taehyung had just been living in denial, or maybe with the belief that his mother would come back for him “later,” that you were only a temporary home.

“This isn’t your fault, Taetae,” you murmured. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Sometimes… sometimes adults make hard decisions. We think we’re doing the right thing and… sometimes it’s hard to see if we’ve made the right choice or not.” You sighed, picking through your words super carefully. “I think… I think that your mother made what she thought was the best decision for both herself and for you and Jimin. She believed she would be happy with her new husband. But she did not believe you and Jiminie would be happy. So she put you somewhere that you could be. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, but I’m still sad,” Taehyung cried harder.

“I know,” you said, “and that’s okay. I would be sad too.”

“I just want my mommy back,”

“I know.”

“I don’t want you to get married,” Taehyung said suddenly, long after his sobs had calmed down. Tears still fell, but slowly now. “I don’t want you to send me away too.”

“If you listen to your Jinnie-hyung, he says that won’t happen because I don’t date anyway.”

“Mommy didn’t date for a long time… and then she did. And then she got married.”

“I won’t get rid of you even if I did get married, Taetae,” you told him.

“You’re still not allowed to get married,” he argued. “Or date. You have to be mine forever and ever, okay?”

“No matter what, I will be yours forever and ever,” you agreed.

“Can I sleep here tonight?” Taehyung asked. “I'm comfy and you make me not sad.”

“Of course,” you said. “You’re comfy like a teddy bear, I don’t want you to go.”

=======

In the morning, Taehyung was bouncing off the walls, screaming as he chased Jungkook around the house. Jimin was curled into a corner of the sofa, giggling while he watched his brothers play and encouraging Taehyung in his antics. You could hardly tell that Taehyung had an emotional breakdown the previous night. You knew he was far from being “over” his feelings about his mother, he was only eight and the feelings were complicated. But he was happy for now and that made you happy. You’ll deal with the noise and the chaos and shout at the kids yet again about running inside where things were breakable including themselves as long as they kept smiling.

Surprisingly, it was Namjoon who came knocking at your door after bedtime that night. Similar to Taehyung, he didn’t speak or ask permission, just closed the door behind him and slid into your bed. Buried himself beneath the blankets and stuck his head beneath the pillow and tucked his gangly limbs into a ball. You were familiar with these moods, but haven’t seen one in years, not since you took in Seokjin. So you finished the chapter you had been reading, turned off the light, and sank down to lay your head on your pillows. Similar to Taehyung, Namjoon would speak when he was ready, when he found the right words to use to express his feelings.

“You really won’t get married, right?” Namjoon whispered beneath the pillow next to you. His voice was heavily muffled, but you’d been waiting for him to speak for some time. You just didn’t expect for him to continue a joke conversation from several days ago.

“What’s wrong with me getting married?” you asked.

“If you get married, you’ll have to get rid of us.”

“There is no world where I will give up any of you just to get married, Namjoon.”

“But that’s what happens, isn’t it?” said Namjoon. “Adults… if they aren’t married, but they have kids… they get rid of them so that they can date. Because kids get in the way. Because it’s stupid to take care of other people’s kids.”

“Why does it sound like you just called me stupid?” Your sarcasm probably wasn’t appropriate for the moment, but the words slipped before you thought about it.

“We’re really lucky to have you, we know that,” said Namjoon. “But that just means --”

“Namjoon, I’m going to stop you right there,” you cut him off before he finishes. You remove the pillow from his face so that he can hear you clearly, and card your fingers through his hair. “I didn’t create any of you. I didn’t ask for any of you. But I have you. And I love you. I adore you. I will tear apart skies, drain oceans, and vanquish God if it will keep you all safe and happy, okay? If your parents ever come back for you, I will press charges against them and make it so that they can never look at you, let alone hurt you ever again, do you understand me, Kim Namjoon? You and Yoongi and Jungkook and Seokjin and Hoseok and Taehyung and Jimin, you’re all mine. You’re my kids, all seven of you, and I will be damned if any lover or spouse, or anything at all, comes between me and you. I don’t say that because it sounds good -- although seriously, you have to admit that this is one of my better speeches,” -- at that, Namjoon giggled, the noise muted and soft, but a win was a win -- “but I say these things because I mean them. I will put a brick in the hospital for you, Joonie.” You hesitate, but continue anyway. “If it weren’t for you, I may have left the country at the end of that year. Teaching is fun, but I wasn’t super happy before. But then you asked me to take you home and you were so cute that I got attached almost immediately. I didn’t want to take you to the police and have them send you to your parents. I liked having someone to come home to. I liked taking care of you. Most people go get a pet or a lover when they’re feeling lonely, but here’s me, collecting kids like you’re pokemon cards.”

“No one collects pokemon cards anymore,”

“What, is Yu-Gi-Oh back in style?”

“What even is that?”

“The coolest card game ever. Period.” Namjoon laughs again, and you feel accomplished.

“It’s not that cool if I’ve never heard of it,” Namjoon argues.

“Joonie. I love you. But even I know you aren’t the coolest among your classmates.”

“I’m the coolest out of all my friends!”

“I won’t argue about that. I’m also sure that in your group of friends, ‘coolest’ means ‘knows the biggest words and has the best grades.’”

“You’re just jealous,”

“Absolutely. I wish I knew as many words as you do. Imagine how much fun I’d have fussing at you kids in Smart People language!”

“Why are you like this?”

“Please, other kids wish they had someone as cool as me taking care of them.”

Namjoon cuddled closer to you in the bed, laying his head on your shoulder and gripping your pajama shirt. You spend a few minutes massaging his scalp, a soothing gesture for you just as much as it is for him. After a few minutes, you begin drifting off, believing Namjoon is on the verge of sleep as well.

“Are you really okay?” he asks. “With taking care of all of us? You don’t… want to go back home?”

“I am home, silly,” you flick the side of his head gently. “I love you. And even if I wanted to go back to my home country, don’t think I won’t take each one of you with me. I said you’re mine. I mean it.”

“Okay.”

And it’s not that you don’t believe him, but you know your kid. You know he internalizes things and finds convoluted ways to take blame for other peoples’ problems, including your own. You know it will be a while yet before he truly accepts and believes you when you say you want to keep him and enjoy taking care of him. But you also know that he wants to believe you and he’s trying. You idly wonder if you’ll have to have some sort of discussion in the morning, an announcement over breakfast that no children will be displaced in the event of an unlikely wedding. You dismiss the thought, deciding it was more likely to incite panic and give you a headache more than anything else.

To find more of my child-bangtan fics, select the "Collecting Strays" tag at the bottom of this page ^_^

#bts #bts fan fiction #bts scenarios #kim taehyung #bts v #kim seokjin #kim namjoon #bangtan #kid bts #bts army #cross posted on ao3 #wow I just realized #kim line #reader insert #darkbalance #collecting strays

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marvelmymarvel · 4 years

Text

Beauty (Part 2)

Jiraiya x Reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

Synopsis: At the age of 14, you begged the 3rd Hokage to let you raise the brand new baby, who just like you lost his parents to the nine-tailed fox. People thought you were crazy, but the strange new man who was training Naruto saw you as something else.

“Where is Kakashi-Sensei?”

Your head snapped up from your ramen, eyes landing on the blonde who sat across from you. Ever since Jiraiya took over for Naruto’s training, his whining about Kakashi lessened, so the name of your best friend coming up made you worried.

Especially because you couldn’t tell him the truth.

Biting your lip, you gave a shrug. “I have no clue, haven’t talked to him since he left” Lies, it was all a lie. You knew where he was and you knew what he was doing, it seemed you were the only one who did. Naruto let out a sigh before looking back down at his own ramen in defeat. Your heart shattered at the sight as he played with the noodles, it was never like him to play with his food.

“Aren’t you hungry baby?” you cooed, hand reaching across the kitchen table. He didn’t fight you off as you grabbed his hand and began lightly caressing his knuckles with the pad of your thumb. The silence that followed your question only caused your stomach to twist up in anger, why was Kakashi like this? You couldn’t lie, the fact that he seemed to always favor the Uchiha child made your blood boil, but you knew the reason for it.

Still, you didn’t like any of it.

“Hey, quit beating yourself up... You know Kakashi cares for you Naruto” a tear slipped down his face, his shoulders beginning to shake as he quietly sobbed at your words. “How about we go for a walk... Would that help clear your head?” Naruto’s bloodshot eyes met yours at the offer. Sniffling, he nodded softly before allowing you to pull him up from his chair.

“Come on kiddo, let's forget our problems for a bit”

He had stopped crying about 10 minutes into the walk, but he was still silent. You noticed his eyes starting to droop, causing you to stop in your tracks. “Hey, why’d you stop” he whined, lazily stopping a couple feet in front of you. You smiled sweetly at him before squatting a bit, “Jump on... Let's head home”

Normally, he would reject this type of interaction. Not because it was weird, but because it was something he only did as a child, and he wasn’t a kid anymore...

But it sounded too tempting for him to argue.

Moving towards you, he lazily jumped onto your back. Your hands grabbed the backs of his knees, hoisting him up higher onto your back so that his thighs were resting on your hips. Once he was adjusted, you began to walk back towards your house. He was silent again, but his aura felt peaceful as if your simple touch had healed all of his pain.

Naruto laid his head down between your shoulder blades, arms wrapping tighter around your neck as he closed his eyes. You smiled happily as your fingers rubbed at his knees, he would always be your baby, no matter how old he got. Your eyes lifted to the moon above, silently promising that you would give Kakashi a piece of your mind when he returned.

“The kid sleeps?”

You stopped in your tracks, eyes roaming the dark around you as you searched for the source of the voice. Naruto was soundly sleeping on your back still, calming you slightly as you realized your jolt hadn’t woken him up. Finally, the man emerged from the dark, the sight of his white hair calming you down all the way.

“J-Jiraiya” you whispered out, a simple greeting that made his heart race as he approached you two. Your eyes widened as his head tilted to get a look at the sleeping boy on your back, “I thought he never slept with how energetic he always was” the sage teased, hand reaching up as he lightly brushed some of Naruto’s hair back and out of his face. You felt him stir, causing you to hiss out a ‘be careful’ as you moved slightly away from him. It wasn’t like you didn’t want him near you two.

You just didn’t want the poor thing to wake up.

Jiraiya’s face heated up, embarrassed as he lowered his hand. “S-sorry” he stuttered out, eyebrows furrowing as you averted your gaze. “It’s okay... I just, I don't want him waking up. He has nightmares so all the peaceful sleep he gets is a godsend” silence fell over you two, yet it didn’t feel uncomfortable. Naruto stirred again on your back, clutching your jacket as he began to slip.

“Here, let me carry him”

Before you could argue, Jiraiya had carefully peeled the blonde from your back and moved him onto his own. Naruto wrapped his arms and legs around him automatically, snuggling into his shoulder as you watched in awe of how gentle the transition was. “Where do you two live?” Jiraiya stated finally as he bit back a smile, the sight of your wide eyes and open mouth had him all worked up.

You were just so...

“Um... By the Hokages house” you muttered out, shaking your head to get over your shell shock. Jiraiya smirked at your flustered look, at the way your eyes looked everywhere but at him. To be honest, he knew where you lived and it wasn’t a mere coincidence that he ran into the two of you.

He had to protect you both, he didn’t know why but he just had to.

“Then let's go” Jiraiya stated finally, hand leaving Naruto’s knee to grab your hand. Your eyes widened further in shock, excuses flying out of your mouth as he began to walk you back home. He turned to look at you, silencing your rambling with his knowing smile. He knew what he was doing, and he was loving every second of it.

“Calm down sweetheart, I won't bite”

A squeak flew from your lips as he yanked you up to his side, his fingers weaving themselves with yours as you met his pace. A peaceful quiet surrounded you as you neared your home. It was small, only having 2 rooms which meant that you and Naruto shared one. Normally, any normal person would complain about sharing a space with a child, but it helped when he had his nightmares.

Pulling your hand from Jiraiya’s, you walked up to the door and opened it for him. You swiftly moved towards the bedroom, sliding open the door quietly so that Jiraiya could duck in. He stood there and watched as you quickly put down the two futons. Once you had finished setting up his bed, you moved towards Jiraiya and softly took Naruto from him. Adjusting him onto your hip, you turned back towards the beds.

“God, you big baby” you teased quietly as Naruto snuggled into your neck, his arms wrapping tighter around you as you bent over to put him down. A whimper fell from his lips as you pried yourself from his grasp, causing your heart to ache as you sat beside him. Jiraiya watched as you cooed at him, fingers running softly through his locks as you pulled the blanket up to his chin with your free hand.

This would be so much easier with another person in your life... Jiraiya’s cheeks heated up at his thoughts, the thoughts of you two putting a child to sleep together. He hasn't felt this way since... Well, since Tsunade. Naruto finally began to settle down thanks to your coos and loving touch, remembering that Jiraiya was in the room, you bent over and pressed your lips against the young child’s head. Pulling your hand from him, you stood slowly and moved towards the door, motioning for Jiraiya to follow suit.

Closing the door slowly, you felt the older man's eyes on you and could practically sense all of the questions he had for you. Moving towards the front door with Jiraiya on your tail, you prepared yourself for all of the questions that would soon be coming your way. Walking towards a tree, you sat down against it and patted the ground beside you. He eyed the spot but decided against it and instead plopped down in front of you.

Both of you were sitting cross-legged, which meant that his knees were brushing against yours. “So I’m guessing you have questions” you muttered, fingers twisting around each other anxiously as you awaited the first question. “A couple... Why do you only have one bedroom?”

You chuckled pathetically, eyes flicking up to his as your knee began to bounce. “It's the only thing the Hokage could give us, I don't have to pay for anything” you muttered, cringing at the way your voice gave away how embarrassed you were. Many people in the village teased you for sharing your room with a child, something that signified being poor among the richer clans. Kakashi was the only one who didn’t tease you. He was the only one who tried to help you when you first took Naruto in.

“Why did you take him in?”

There it was, the question you were dreading the most. Your eyes were glued to the point where your knees touched his, trying to muster up the strength to tell him the story of how you saved each other. Jiraiya could tell that the story would be a hard one to tell and he instinctively reached over to grab your hands. “You’re safe with me”

You knew he just meant that you were emotionally safe with him, but the words somehow felt deeper, as if you were safe with him no matter what. Nothing and no one could hurt you, and in turn, nothing and no one could hurt Naruto, the boy you loved so much. The boy whose body housed the demon that killed your parents. The boy that saved you from going insane.

“My parents were Shinobis in charge of protecting Naruto’s mom. They were there alongside Kakashi... They weren’t the best of the best, but they were good enough to be the 4th Hokage’s choice. As you know, Naruto’s beast killed his parents but the beast also killed mine... When I saw Kakashi coming back alone with the baby in his arms, I broke down.”

Jiraiya watched you carefully, scared that your retelling the story would send you into a spiral of despair. He never wanted you to feel that he only wanted you to feel happiness. After a deep breath, you continued. “Kakashi had to get the 3rd Hokage's help, so he gave the baby to me to watch over. I was so angry with the child for taking away the only family I had, but the second he was placed in my arms was the second I fell in love. He took my parents, but he also took his own. We were both orphans. We were both alone” Tears slipped down your cheeks, Jiraiya’s grip on your hands tightening at the sight of you starting to break down.

“I held Naruto for hours, and when the 3rd tried to take him, I broke down and begged him, pleaded for him to let me take him in and raise him. At first, he refused, but I wouldn’t give him up till I got my way. So he gave up, under one condition. I had to train him with patience”

Jiraiya tilted his head in confusion, “What do you mean train him with patience?” he asked softly. His hand reached up and cupped your cheek softly, wiping away the tears as you looked at him sadly. “The beast inside of him is strong and hard to handle, it would mean that training would be hard and he would be behind on things... I was a talented Shinobi like Kakashi, but I had no interest in being anything other than a regular old Shinobi. Seeing my talent and skill, the 3rd believed that I would be able to help Naruto master the beast. But as you can see, I’m failing-”

“That's not true!”

Your eyes widened at his outburst, his grip on your cheek and hand tightening as he looked at you with passion burning in his eyes. “You were 14, you were a baby raising a baby. The fact that you were able to get him to where he is today is incredible. So don't you dare say you failed” a smile formed on your lips, god he sounded just like Kakashi.

“You tell him he’s a failure though”

Jiraiya’s face heated up at your accusatory look, his hand falling from your face as he pulled away from you. “I, I thought tough love would work, but your encouragement was what helped him move along in the training” he muttered, his eyes trained to your knees as he tried to fight off the shame that was creeping up his neck. Silence fell around you till you spoke up again, “You know the saying, don't you?” Your hand landed on his shoulder as you pushed up onto your knees. His eyes snapped up to you, widening as your hair fell around you like a curtain.

“You mess with my kid, and you’re messing with me... We won't have that issue, will we?”

His breathing began to stutter as you got closer to his face. Your hands traveled from his shoulders to his neck, cupping the warm flesh as you pressed your forehead against his. Instinctively, his hands flew to your hips, steadying you as you climbed into his lap. “I don't think so, but I do have one more question” Jiraiya muttered out, fingers massaging your hips as you bit back a moan above him. “What is it?” you breathed out, the urge to kiss him starting to consume you as you stared down at him with hooded eyes.

“Mind if I join the family?”

Your heart skipped a beat, but the only answer you could give him was your lips pressing against his. His mouth mashed with yours, hands moving up to your back as he pulled your chest against his, further deepening the kiss as you moaned into his mouth. Your fingers laced into his hair, tugging at it as his lips moved from your mouth to your neck.

A cry sounded out into the night air, causing you to freeze, ears training to pinpoint where it was coming from. “Y/n!” they cry hit your ears, causing you to push Jiraiya away and bolt towards the house. Jiraiya could hear you cooing at Naruto from where he sat breathless on the ground. Realizing how late it was and not knowing how long it would take you, Jiraiya stood up and began to walk back to his own home. He’d see you tomorrow, he’d make sure of it.

A couple minutes passed before you got Naruto calmed down again. Remembering that you left Jiraiya mid make out, you moved outside only to find he had left. Sighing, you rubbed your face and leaned against the wall of the house. Your fingers trailed along your lips, remembering the feeling of how he felt against them. So warm. So soft.

So safe.

Was this really happening again? Were you really falling in love again? Biting your lip, you contemplated whether or not you could go through a possible heartbreak again like you did with Obito, the one and only boy you ever loved. The stars shined brightly above, and you realized that yes, yes you could handle it because you liked this feeling.

Like this feeling called love.

#jiraiya imagine #jiraiya imagines #jiraiya x reader #jiraiya x y/n #jiraiya x you #jiraiya fanfiction #jiraiya #naruto imagine #naruto imagines #naruto x reader #naruto uzumaki imagine #naruto

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prepare4trouble · 3 years

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Vikings fanfic - Apparition

Hvitserk rolled over onto his back and stared forward. Candlelight from the single candle that he had left burning on the nightstand illuminated the room in soft light. He lay still for a moment, uncertain what had woken him from his slumber.

The night was silent, save for the sound of the wind outside.

Puzzled, he allowed his eyes to close once again. If something had woken him, it had passed now, and his body was eager for sleep. He felt himself begin to drift away, sinking slowly beneath the waves of slumber that washed over him.

“A nice, comfortable room you have here, brother.”

With a sudden, sharp intake of breath, Hvitserk’s eyes sprung open again. The voice that cut through the silence of the Wessex night was one that he had never expected to hear again. Not in this life, at least.

He searched the bedchamber with his eyes, peering through the darkness. The long shadows cast by the candle, formed dark shapes that morphed and changed as they danced in time with the flame that flickered in the air currents of the room.

Hvitserk took a deep breath, and tried to still the pounding of his heart. When, finally, he trusted himself to speak again, his voice was a low, uncertain whisper.

“I...Ivar?”

No. It couldn’t be. It was impossible. Ivar was dead. Hvitserk had seen it happen. He had watched in horrified disbelief as the life had drained from his brother’s body; he had carried him from the battlefield himself, and finally, he had placed him in the ground, careful, so as not to cause further breaks to his fragile bones as he had lowered him into his final resting place.

And yet that voice had been unmistakable; not just the voice itself, but the tone, the subtle hint of a mocking smile he could hear concealed within the words.

He was answered by silence; a silence that felt much more complete now than it had a moment earlier. Hvitserk held his breath, hoping for a reply but terrified that he might get one.

Nothing happened. Carefully, he reached for the candle still burning by his bed, and with a trembling hand, tilted it to touch the flame to the wick of several other candles. Wax dripped onto the nightstand, and with each new flame, the shadows moved, intensifying as they shrunk away from the light, until they revealed a dark, impossible shape seated at the end of his bed.

Hvitserk blinked, giving his eyes time to adjust, and to make sense of what he was seeing, but the more he stared, the more he could see Ivar. He frowned. “You’re dead,” he said.

The shadows that had somehow come together to form his younger brother, turned to look at him. His face was completely familiar, right down to the scars. Ivar shrugged. “So what? Does that mean I’m not allowed to visit my brother? Or can I not be here because you’re a Christian now and it upsets your delicate new faith. Is that what you mean, Athelstan?”

Hvitserk felt himself flinch. Ivar had never been supposed to know. Not about the conversion, or the name that King Alfred had bestowed upon him. The idea that he did know, even though he was certain that this was not real, provoked a deep sense of shame. He was firm in his conviction that he had made the right choice, but he was equally certain that it was something he would never have done if Ivar had been there to tell him what he thought of the idea.

He shook his head. “Don’t call me that.”

“What, Athelstan? Why not? It’s your name now, isn’t it? You cast aside the name our mother and father gave you, renounced it along with Odin, and all of our other Gods. I’ve got to call you something, haven’t I?”

“My old name will do fine,” Hvitserk told him.

Ivar frowned, then shrugged as though it didn’t matter anyway. “If you say so.”

He was dressed in the same clothing he had worn the last time Hvitserk had seen him alive, and he wore his hair in the same braids. Everything about him looked exactly as it had that day on the battlefield. Everything but his eyes. The whites of his eyes appeared to have lost their blue tint, indicating that the danger of broken bones had now passed. Too late, of course.

“This isn’t real,” Hvitserk said to himself. His new faith did not allow for visitations from the other side. The dead remained where they were, in Heaven, or in Hell. “I’m imagining it,” he said. “Or dreaming.”

“If that’s what you want to believe, feel free,” Ivar told him. “But I assure you, I am very real.”

Hvitserk looked at him again. He certainly looked real. And sounded real. “Really?” He wanted it to be true, no matter how impossible it might be.

“Absolutely,” Ivar told him. “But of course, if I was a figment of your imagination, isn’t that exactly what I would say? I probably wouldn’t own up to it, would I?”

He had a point. Hvitserk kicked back the blanket that covered him, and swung his legs over the edge of the bed so that he and Ivar were sitting side by side. He reached across and touched him on the shoulder, half expecting his hand to pass right through him. Impossibly, he felt real, as though flesh and blood.

He tried again, reaching for his brother’s hand this time, and feeling the well-worn leather of the fingerless gloves he wore to protect his hands on the rough ground. Once again, it felt familiar, and completely real.

“How…?”

“The dead are often around us. You used to believe that too.”

“But not like this. Anyway, I…” Hvitserk hesitated. “I don’t believe it anymore. The dead are in Heaven, or in Hell. They don’t come back.”

“The Christian dead, maybe. But then, maybe not. I’ve met a few of them, they aren’t so different from us.” Ivar shrugged. “But if that’s what you choose to believe, I won’t try to stop you. That’s not why I’m here.”

Hvitserk nodded, relieved, because faced with something like this, he was certain that his new faith would crumble if Ivar chose to challenge it. “Then why are you here?”

“I just wanted to see that you were all right. After all, even though I am the younger brother, I know you always looked up to me -- not literally, of course, since I spent so much time crawling on the ground, but in a manner of speaking -- and now I’m gone, I thought you might be feeling… untethered.”

“I’m fine,” Hvitserk lied. “Anyway, this only proves you’re not real. The real Ivar wouldn’t care how I felt.” If he had, he wouldn’t have gone into battle that day, knowing how vulnerable to breaks his bones had been. Hvitserk had never seen his eyes more blue than they had been that day, and although they hadn’t known exactly how it would happen, both of them had known that Ivar wasn’t going to leave the battlefield alive.

Ivar feigned shock, gasped, and clutched at his chest as though shot by an arrow. “You wound me, brother,” he said. “Of course I care. But I see you’ve found yourself another new faith to keep you occupied.” He leaned forward on his crutch, then turned to stare searchingly at Hvitserk. “How does being a Christian suit you? It looks a little boring. What kind of a god doesn’t want a sacrifice now and then? And all that kneeling…” he smiled. “It would be no good for me. One advantage to being a cripple is that I cannot kneel. Not even to Odin himself, and certainly not to your god.”

He had a point. “Are you still a cripple, then?" Hvitserk asked him. “Even in Valhalla?” Somehow, he had expected that after the Valkyries carried his brother to Odin’s great hall, he would find himself free of pain, and able to walk and run, and to do all the things that had been denied him in life.

“Of course,” Ivar told him. “After all, this is who I am. I’m Ivar the Boneless. Take that away, give me a healthy body, and what would that make me?

“It would make you Ivar,” Hvitserk told him without hesitation. “Ivar Ragnarsson.”

“Exactly,” Ivar agreed. “And whoever heard of him?”

Hvitserk smiled. “I have,” he said. “He’s my brother, and I love him.”

Ivar smiled too. “I should go, Athelstan,” he said. “I imagine that after this, you have a long day of praying ahead of you.”

“Will I see you again?” Hvitserk asked.

“Maybe.” Ivar shrugged. “Certainly in the next life. For now, I’m going to check in on Prince Igor, and find out the name of my child. I’m going to drink with our father, and make sure that mother knows about everything I managed to achieve in life, because for all that she loved me, I honestly don’t think she ever believed I would do anything truly great. Maybe I’ll even get Sigurd to forgive me for cutting his time so short. And by the time I’ve done all that, maybe you will be ready to join us in Valhalla.”

Hvitserk rubbed at his eyes with a finger as though tired, trying to disguise the tears that threated to fall. He shook his head. “I’m a Christian now, Ivar,” he reminded him. “I don’t get to go to Valhalla.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that. There is room for all the sons of Ragnar at Odin’s table,” Ivar assured him. “But I’ll let you in on a secret that not even the Seer knew while he was in Midgard. Valhalla, your Christian Heaven, Hel, all the other places that people we never even got to meet believe they go when they die? They’re not so far apart. No matter where you go, we’ll see each other again. If that’s what you want, of course.”

It was. It was what he wanted more than anything. Hvitserk nodded.

Ivar leaned forward to rest his weight on his crutch, and levered himself to his feet as Hvitserk had seen him do many times before. “I suppose I’ll see you there, then,” he said, then took a step as though he intended to walk away.

“Wait!” Hvitserk reached out to grab his brother’s arm, half expecting his fingers to pass through him as though he was already gone, but he still felt impossibly real. “Wait,” he said again. “I don’t want you to leave. I’m all alone here.”

Ivar shook his head. “You’ll be fine,” he said. “Live a little; marry some Christian girl and have some children to keep you company. Raise them with our stories. Tell them about Odin and Thor, Frey and Freya. And tell them about your crazy, crippled brother who led two great armies to England, and traveled the silk road.” He smiled. “Tell them they have a cousin in Rus. The world is getting smaller every day, so who knows, maybe one day they’ll even get to meet him.”

Hvitserk nodded. This time he didn’t bother to hide his tears. “I miss you,” he said.

“Why?” Ivar asked him. “I’m not that far away.”

Without warning, a sudden gust of wind chilled the room and extinguished the candles that Hvitserk had lit, leaving only one remaining. He turned to look at them, only for a second, and when he turned back, Ivar was gone, replaced by the flickering shadows that had been there before.

He took a deep breath, smelling the unmistakable scent of extinguished candles as he did. “Ivar?” he said hesitantly. There was no reply. He reached out into the space where, seconds earlier, his brother had been standing. This time, his hand passed through nothing but the air. “Ivar?” he tried again, a little louder this time, but no longer expecting a response. The silence obliged.

Reaching to his side, he placed a hand on the bed, where moments earlier his brother had been sitting, and was not surprised to find the surface warm to the touch. He sighed. “Fine, be like that,” he said to the silence, then wiped his tears with the back of his hand, and smiled. “I suppose I’ll see you soon,” he added. “Not too soon though.” Ivar was right, he needed to live first.

And now, for reasons that he didn’t quite understand, the conversation that should have left him shaken and questioning his Christian faith, had instead lifted a weight from his shoulders that he hadn’t even realised he had been carrying.

With one final glance around the room, Hvitserk lay back down in his bed, pulled his blanket over him, and allowed sleep to drag him back down into its comforting embrace.

#vikings #vikings fanfiction #hvitserk #ivar the boneless #that last episode made me cry #I tried to make it feel better #not sure if it worked

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notquitetwilight · 4 years

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THE CULLANOS: A TASTE OF BOSTON, PART TWO

The Cullanos continue taking care of business in Boston. Warning: this story contains graphic violence and sexual references (no smut, just truly cursed references). Previous instalment

Esme breathed shakily as she walked hand-in-hand with her husband past brownstone after brownstone. The street was deserted; it was just the two of them and the parked cars that lined their path. Her thoughts seemed to scream louder in the silence as she mentally willed that the daughter they left behind would be safe.

“S’like Brooklyn down here,” Carlisle said absentmindedly, keeping his voice low. When she didn’t answer, he looked at her, suddenly noticing her unease. “What’s the matta, baby?”

“I think…” she trailed off, unsure. She wasn’t used to being nervous. But she couldn’t shake the image of Rosalie’s wide eyes right before she had left her in the car. They were the same shade of blue as Carlisle’s, the type that seemed cold and piercing when narrowed, but inviting enough to swim in when widened. Though she’d never have admitted it, Esme knew she was afraid. And that made her afraid.

“I’m not sure we should’ve brought her.”

He frowned. “Rosie?”

She rolled her eyes. “No, our other child we were recently reunited with. Who else?”

“She wanted to come,” he said, raising a shoulder.

“So? If she said she wanted to do crack, would you let her?”

“Depends on whether or not she’d share,” he grinned.

“Carl, I’m serious,” she said, her voice cracking a little, which surprised both of them.

He squeezed her hand. “She’s a smart girl, Ezzie. She knows the drill.”

“Still, if somethin’ goes wrong—“

“It won’t.”

“If it does, I don’t…” she stopped in her tracks, feeling like she couldn’t take in air as quickly as her body needed her to. She closed her eyes as she tried to level her breathing. “If somethin’ were to happen to her, I don’t know what I’d do. I’d never forgive myself. Or you.”

She opened her eyes to find him looking a little wounded. “I thought this was what you wanted. Her here, with us.”

“It is,” she said, starting to walk again. “But all this is also why we gave her up in the first place, right?”

He groaned quietly. “Not this again.”

That infuriated her. She let go of his hand and made a great effort to keep the volume of her voice low in her response. “I’m sorry, is my fear for our daughter’s safety inconveniencin’ you?”

“I can’t keep doin’ this,” he said with a sigh. “Over and over, I keep tryin’ to make you happy, and over and over, I feel like I’m failin’. Because I don’t know what you want. Because you don’t know what you want.” He spoke so calmly, so matter-of-factly, without a hint of malice. She balked at him.

“What?” was all she managed.

“You want me, but you don’t want me. So I try move on. Twice. When ya do want me, I’m there in a heartbeat. You want our daughter, but you don’t want our daughter, so I give up my chance to be a dad to her. But then you do want her, but only from a distance, so we torture ourselves watchin’ other people raise her. Then you want her, fully want her, so I bring her back to us, and ever since I did you’ve been sayin’ maybe we shoulda left her as she was. I don’t know what else to do. I feel like I can’t make you happy no matta what. Maybe you were right, all those times ya said family life wasn’t for you. Ya seem a lot less happy since we became one.”

She gritted her teeth and glared up at him, ready to risk their cover in screaming at him. Yet her anger dissolved immediately upon seeing his face. He looked…sad. Truly, hopelessly sad, the type that usually only came with grief. Only she was allowed to see him this vulnerable, and only she had seen him wear this same expression just twice before: the day of his mother’s funeral, and the day they gave Rose up.

She had never considered how all of it might have looked to him, how what she said or did could be misinterpreted. She just assumed he knew where her head was at, because she always knew where his was at. But it suddenly occurred to her that she knew everything he thought because he spoke everything he thought to her. He knew her well, better than anyone else did, but he wasn’t a mind-reader. And while she believed herself to be a relatively good communicator, she knew she was nowhere near as good as him.

“There it is,” he muttered, interrupting her thoughts. He came to a halt and nodded to the dark grey brownstone a little ahead of them, the last on the street.

She frowned. “That’s...their house?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s attached to other buildin’s,” she said flatly.

“Guess that’s what silencers are for.”

He started for the Ivanov residence while rooting in one of his pockets, but she pulled at his arm. “Carl.”

He let her grip lead him to face her, but he looked at his feet, kicking the ground.

“Look at me,” she said softly. His head stayed down and his forehead remained creased.

“Baby?” she tried. He raised his head to meet her eyes then, and she couldn’t help but smile with relief. He was usually the one for terms of endearment, so the rare times she used them, she got his full attention.

“I’m not...less happy,” she started, unsure of how to explain herself.

“You don’t sound so sure.”

“I am sure! Give me a chance. I’m much more happy, one hundred per cent. But I’m also much more worried. And maybe that’s what looks bad. Maybe I’m not handlin’ it right, I dunno. But I’m not used to bein’ worried. I’m not used to bein’...scared. And I am, Carl. For the first time in my life, I’m fuckin’ terrified. Almost 24/7.”

The line between his eyebrows deepened. “I don’t get it,” he shook his head the slightest bit. “Why? You’ve never been the anxious type.”

“That’s what I’m tryin’ to say,” she gripped onto his forearms and gently shook them. “I’ve never been scared because I only had myself to worry about. And I didn’t care what happened to me, or what kinda shit I got myself into. The money and the good time was worth it. Everything was carefree and I didn’t wanna be tied down. But it got to the point where I wasn’t...happy anymore. I think that’s where the Charles thing came from. You got married for the first time and I hated it. And it was my own fault, because I said no to you, but it was only when I saw what you had without me that I realised I wanted that, too. So I married that asshole and then that went to shit. Had me kinda believin’ I wasn’t meant to have that family life. And then it was back to square one; you askin’ me to marry you, me sayin’ no, you gettin’ married to someone else and me hatin’ it again.

“But I just continued doin’ what I wanted, not carin’, until that day she walked in on us in the kitchen. I don’t think I’ve ever hated anyone the way I hated her that day. It was like, all of a sudden I realised that even though you were mine, you were officially hers on paper. She was the wife, I was the goomar. And I fuckin’ hated it and I fuckin’ hated her and I wanted it to just be fuckin’ done with already. And then she was dead and you were askin’ me to marry you again and it felt so right to finally fuckin’ say yes. And I think I started to feel a little bit like the stakes were higher after we made it official, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as it is now. Not as bad as it’s been since Rosie came. We worked so hard for her to trust us, for her to want to stay with us. And now the three of us are finally together as a proper family. It might not be a ‘Brady Bunch’ scenario, but it’s us. It’s like, the last piece of the puzzle finally clicked into place, and now I’m waitin’ for it to fall apart. So you’re right, I’ve never been the anxious type. But I never had anything to lose. Now I do — I have everything to lose. And I don’t know what I’d do if I lost it.”

He wiped away a tear she hadn’t noticed rolling down her cheek and pulled her into him. She gasped for breath after rambling for so long. “Why didn’t you say?” he mumbled against her hairline, then kissed the top of her forehead.

“I dunno. Maybe I thought you knew already. Or maybe I didn’t wanna sound stupid.” She sighed and fully leaned into him, her cheek against his chest. This way, she was facing the Ivanov house, and it registered with her that there was the tiniest sliver of light visible through a gap in one window’s heavy curtains.

“That doesn’t sound stupid at all,” he stroked the back of her head. “It’s a relief, actually. I thought maybe you were gettin’ bored of it all. Of us.”

“Never,” she said, tearing her eyes away from the house so she could lift her head to look at him. “You’re my person, forever.”

“And she’s our person, that we made,” he smiled. “Isn’t that fuckin’ crazy, when ya think about it?”

“But isn’t that— doesn’t that make you scared? I’ve seen how much you adore her. Why aren’t you worried, like me?”

“I just...trust in my gut. And my gut says none of us are dyin’ for a long, long time.”

“That’s it?” she asked without snark. She was genuinely fascinated by his complete lack of concern for their safety.

“Yeah. I have faith in us. We’re not dumb, we’re not new to this, we’re good both as individuals and as a team. And like you said, there’s more to lose now, so there’s more to fight for. Think of how unstoppable you were when you didn’t give a shit. Can you imagine anyone bein’ able to stop you now that you do?”

“Guess not,” she said, feeling a smile growing across her face. She was still worried, but she felt much better. There was a lot of sense in what he said. His words did their job in comforting her, as they often did.

“I love you,” she said, pulling at his neck to bring his face down to hers. “You always know the right thing to say.”

She kissed him then, slowly and expressively at first. But she quickly began to lose herself in it, and her fingers found themselves running through his hair. He let out a soft groan before pulling away and grinning at her.

“Later, baby. We have a job to do.” He glanced at his Rolex and his face dropped. “Shit. We’re a lil’ behind schedule. Alice’ll be waitin’.”

She nodded and pointed at the house as the two of them began walking again. “Someone’s up, too.”

He squinted at the window as they both rooted around in their pockets for their earpieces. They stopped a little short of the brownstone as they put them in.

“You ready?” he whispered, taking her hand again and bringing it to his lips to kiss it.

She nodded once more, and the two of them turned on their earpieces.

“About tiiiiiiiiiiiime,” Alice sang the second they were connected. “You’re late. By five minutes!”

“A queen is never late,” Esme said, her speaking volume lower than Carlisle’s whisper had been. “Everyone else is simply early.”

“Did Madame Mafia just quote ‘the Princess Diaries’ to me?” Alice asked with mock shock.

Carlisle tilted his head and raised his brows.

“Rose showed it to me last weekend,” Esme answered defensively. “We were...bondin’.”

He smirked and turned away from her, eyeing up the house in front of them. “Okay Alice, how’re we doin’?”

“Strangely, no guards — not on the property, anyway. That’s not like them at all. I partly wondered if they were hanging around the area and you ran into a few, because you were late, but I guess not since you’re alive and calm. As for the Ivanovs themselves, two are home: Katarina and Garrett. I have eyes everywhere except the bathrooms, so unless the rest of the family and an army of cronies are hiding in showers, this should be pretty easy.”

The words were like music to Esme’s ears. Her shoulders immediately relaxed, and she finally began to feel excited. She beamed at Carlisle, who gave her a knowing smile and mouthed “see?” in return.

“That’s what I like to hear, Al,” he said. “And you’ll be able to shut their camera system down once we’re out?”

“Of course. Once you’re out and alive, it’s gone.”

“Great. So, they’re still up?”

“Unfortunately,” Alice groaned.

“Don’t worry about us Al, that makes it more fun.”

“I wasn’t saying ‘unfortunately’ because I don’t think you can handle them. I was saying ‘unfortunately’ because over the past half hour, I’ve seen some shit. And that’s saying a lot, considering I work for you two.”

Esme and Carlisle exchanged a look, the pair of them frowning.

“What do you mean?” she asked her.

“I mean I want a raise,” Alice grumbled, causing Carlisle to break into another smile.

“Ahh...they’re in a bedroom?”

“That idea, yes. But wrong room. The living room’s where you’re heading for. Second floor. The ground floor is more like an empty hall, kinda like those malls that don’t really start ‘til you go up the escalator. There’s an elevator, but obviously that’ll make noise, so you should take the stairs.”

“That’a girl. Did you see if they’re armed?”

“As far as I can tell, no. There’s a shit tonne of guns and what appear to be Molotov cocktails in the bedrooms, so don’t give them a chance to go running. I can’t see any weapons in the living room. But I mean you guys know, the likelihood that they’ve got something concealed somewhere — either in the room or on them — is 50/50.”

“Yeah, true. Thanks. I guess that’s our cue.”

“Alrighty. Good luck! I’ll be right here in your ears the whole time.”

The pair of them readied their weapons and clinked the tip of their guns together in salute as they always did.

“Ladies first,” he smiled at her, and he let her lead the way.

Back in the car, Rosalie leaned into her headrest after checking her timer for the umpteenth time. She had set it the second the couple disappeared from view and found herself checking it every minute or so since. There was nothing else to do. She didn’t want to get distracted by her phone in case trouble was around. She couldn’t play music, because she neither wanted to attract attention nor miss anything she’d need to hear. All she could do was wait in the silence, and every second that ticked by felt like an hour.

She almost jumped out of her skin when her phone noisily vibrated on the dashboard. She grabbed it in a panic as though it was loud enough to wake the whole street, but once it was in her hand, she simply stared at it. Royce. Of course. She should’ve known her on-again off-again boyfriend would be the only person to ring her at this hour. She let it ring out, then shifted in her seat to make herself comfortable. The second she did, her phone began to vibrate again. With an eye roll, she brought it up to her ear.

She was immediately met with loud sounds that caused her to wince and pull the phone back slightly. A baseline thudded, so she knew he was out, but the sound was too distorted for her to tell if he was at a club or a party.

“Hello?” she asked, beginning to wonder whether the calls had been accidental. A muffled voice finally spoke, though it said nothing comprehensible.

“Royce, is that you? I can’t hear you,” she tried, keeping her voice low. She wasn’t going to up the volume she had maintained just because he called her from a loud place.

“ROSE!” Royce boomed from the other end of the phone, causing her to wince again. “Come...c’mere. M’over...s’funnn.”

The combination of the loud atmosphere, poor connection and slurred words made it difficult to understand.

“Royce, I don’t know what you’re saying. You know I’m not even in New York or Jersey right now, right? Remember I told you?”

“M’over...” he said again before saying something intelligible.

She was losing patience. “You’re drunk again, and I don’t know what you’re saying. I can’t talk right now, okay? I’ve gotta go.”

He started shouting incoherently. The only thing she made out before hanging up on him was the word ‘bitch’.

She inhaled deeply and checked the timer again. They’d been gone seventeen minutes and 48 seconds. Esme had said to leave after the forty minute mark. She shuddered at the idea of having to drive off without them, wondering whether or not she’d be able to do so if that’s what it came to. It was hard to imagine life beyond them now, though they’d only been connected for a little over a year. She stared out the windshield, biting the inside of her cheek, and felt her phone vibrate again.

Huffing, she thrust it up against her ear. “I said I can’t talk!” she hissed.

It was dead silent. There was none of the noise of the previous call. For a split second, she wondered if she had accidentally hung up.

“Rosalie?” asked a clear, deep voice after a beat.

She paused. “Yes?” she said in a small voice.

“Oh, it is you, thank god!” Relief flooded her as she recognised the voice as Emmett’s. “I was a lil’ confused for a second there. Thought maybe I dialled the wrong number.”

“Sorry Emmett. I— I thought you were somebody else.”

“No prahblem, no prahblem.”

“Is everything okay? If you’re calling me because you couldn’t reach the lovebirds, they’re not back yet.”

“No, no,” he said. “I just wanted to check in and say hi while the two ‘a them are gone. Y’know, just makin’ sure you’re holdin’ up okay on your first big job.”

“Thanks,” she said, a little bitterly.

He must’ve picked up on her tone, because there was another pause. “Uh, sorry to bother you.”

“I’m not pissed at you, I’m pissed at them for thinking I need to be checked up on. I told them I’d be fine.”

“Huh? Nobody asked me to. I just wanted to.”

“Oh,” she said awkwardly, but the corners of her mouth tugged up.

“Yeah. It’s just, I remember how scared I was on my first big job.”

“I’m not scared,” she insisted, back to frowning.

“No? Then you’re a braver soul than I am. I was scared shitless.”

“Really? Carlisle never said.”

“Because he doesn’t know,” Emmett laughed. She didn’t know a sound could be so warm. “I held it together pretty well. But when all was done, he dropped me off at the corner of my block, and I waited for his car to disappear before pukin’ my damn guts up all over the sidewalk.”

She was the one laughing then. She leaned her head against the window as a silence fell over them.

“Okay, maybe I am a little worried,” she said quietly. “Time seems to be dragging by. Esme told me to leave if they’re not back within forty minutes. I obviously don’t want to have to even think about doing that.”

“Of course, of course,” he said. “Honestly though, I’m sure she said it as a precaution, and they’ll be back to ya in no time. You haven’t seen your parents in action. Let’s just say I’m glad I work for them, because I’d hate to be against them.”

“Thanks,” she said again, more sincerely this time.

“And it’s okay to be scared. It’s completely normal. The people who are never scared— those are the mad bastahds you gotta watch out for. Because you gotta be batshit crazy to never know fear.”

“Carlisle’s never scared,” she smiled.

“Well, there ya go, see!” Rosalie could hear the smile in his voice, too. “Case in fuckin’ point!”

She found herself laughing again. It came so easily to her when she spoke to him.

“I better get goin’, letcha get back to it.”

“Okay,” she said. “And thanks, Emmett. I think that helped.”

“No prahblem,” he said again.

“Unless Esme and Carlisle did put you up to this, in which case, no it didn’t.”

“I swear’ta gahd, Rosie, neither of them even know. I had to get your number from Alice.”

Rosie. He had picked that up from Carlisle. It was strange how much she’d come to like a nickname she initially detested.

“‘Kay. Well, thanks again.”

“You have my number now, too,” he said, sounding suddenly serious. “I’ll be right here at the other end of the phone, anytime you need me, ahrite?”

“Does that include if in twenty-or-so minutes’ time I have to decide whether or not to leave my long-lost parents for dead?”

“You betcha.”

“Great!”

He laughed. “Take care, Rosie.”

“Bye, Emmett.”

She hung up the call and resisted the urge to check the timer just yet. A new-found calmness had come over her, and she wanted to bask in it a little while longer.

“Is she beating him to death?” Carlisle whispered up at his wife as she reached the top of the stairs to the Ivanov’s second floor. Alice had been right, they ran into no extra bodies on their way in. And though she was several states away, she had disarmed the entrance’s security with ease.

“No,” Alice answered with a sigh before Esme could. “I think that might actually have made for easier viewing.”

“Don’t be such a prude,” Carlisle quietly teased.

“I’ll have you know, this isn’t your average spank session,” Alice scolded.

“Well now I’m curious,” Esme said, straining to listen. “Is this somethin’ I’m gonna wanna take note of?”

“Ugh, knowing you, probably,” came the answer in her ear.

Esme looked back to smirk at Carlisle.

“Damn,” he muttered. “Shoulda brought a pen.”

“I’ll take mental notes,” she promised.

“And if that fails, you can use the notes my therapist will have taken after I’ve word-vomited all this to her while rocking back and forth,” Alice announced.

Carlisle took his place beside Esme at the top of the stairs and slipped an arm around her waist. The long hallway ahead of them was windowless, its red and gold-patterned wallpaper interrupted by the occasional closed door. Still, it was brightly lit by the two massive chandeliers that hung from its high ceiling. To their left was the unit for the elevator. Carlisle waved at the little CCTV camera above it, prompting a laugh from Alice. Behind them was another set of stairs that led to higher floors they wouldn’t see. The Persian carpet that stretched the length of the hall floor would come in handy to muffle their footsteps.

“Up ahead, the second door on the left is the kitchen,” Alice told them. “It’s got a pass-through and an open plan door to the living room, so be careful.”

“‘Kay,” was all Esme dared to respond as Carlisle let her go. She crept forward.

The pair of them silently edged along the wall, the voices from the living room growing louder as they got closer. Esme stopped at the kitchen door and brought her pistol up to her chest. The pair of them concentrated on the voices inside.

“Alright, swap,” Katarina said. “It’s my turn to rest.”

There were two thuds, and then her voice mingled with a man’s as both began chant-like muttering. Esme couldn’t make out what they were saying.

Carlisle tapped her on the shoulder. When she looked at him, he mouthed, “praying?” with a confused frown.

She paused to listen and confirm, then nodded. He was right, though it left her no less confused. The muttering stopped, and there was some shuffling of feet. The sounds of slapping and groaning resumed, but this time they could tell Katarina was the receiver.

She nudged him and put her gun-free hand on the door handle. With his nod of approval, she slowly pushed it down and opened the door at an acute angle.

“You’re all clear here,” Alice told her, but she gave a quick glance around it anyway to get her bearings. The kitchen was reasonably small for such a big house, and it looked as though it had been home to a frat party. Mess, clutter and countless empty bottles of Absolut Vodka littered every surface. The pass-through was a few feet ahead on her left.

Tip-toeing inside, she immediately grabbed her other gun so she had one in each hand. Both of them made their way to the side of the pass-through as Garrett was saying something about Christ. They hunkered down, then crawled under it, and shimmied out of their heavyweight coats as quietly as possible.

Esme was about to rise slightly up when Carlisle touched her arm. “Only shoot if you have to,” he mouthed slowly so she’d get every word.

The two of them rose and peeped through together. Esme had been right; Garrett was sat on a chair with Katarina bent over his legs as he repeatedly slapped her backside. Still, he mumbled about “the Lord” this and “Jesus” that. Esme looked at Carlisle quizzically.

“Feel the hand of God,” Garrett suddenly half-shouted in comparison to his previous volume. “Who has the most lovin’ hand of all, Kate?”

“God, through you,” Katarina answered him.

“What the fuck is this?” Carlisle breathed, just about audible. “It’s like watchin’ Barbie get an exorcism.”

Esme pressed her lips together to contain a laugh, mentally cursing him. With Katarina’s long blonde hair and baby pink Adidas tracksuit, he wasn’t far off the mark.

“It’s called CDD,” Alice informed. “Short for ‘Christian Domestic Discipline’. The whole religion thing stumped me too when I saw them praying, because like, they’re not even the same religion, right? She’s presumably Orthodox and he’s gotta be Catholic. Anyway, I googled ‘pray spanking’ and found that. Apparently it’s a movement that started as like, a ‘women are inferior in Christian marriages and should treat their husbands like God himself’ thing, but naturally, it got turned into a kink.”

The two of them exchanged a look again and sank back down to their hunkers. Carlisle gestured out their route around the corner of the wall they were now up against and through the open plan door. He pointed to her and made a finger gun, then pointed to himself and pulled out a rope from one of his coat pockets. She nodded once and rounded the corner with her guns raised right as Garrett’s head looked in that direction.

“Don’t move,” she warned, one pistol aimed at his head and the other aimed at Katarina’s.

They both froze, his hand mid-air. Esme stalked closer as Carlisle moved behind them.

“Off the chair,” he commanded. “And putcha hands behind your head.”

They did as they were told and knelt on the ground. Carlisle patted Garrett down and began tying him while Esme came to Katarina’s side. The blonde swallowed tightly. When Carlisle was finished with Garrett, he moved onto her.

“Don’t fuckin’ touch her,” Garrett said as he patted, making Esme smile. As if he’d be able to stop them with his hands and feet tied.

“Whadiya take me for?” Carlisle asked. “I don’t hurt women.”

“Mhmm,” Esme agreed, tracing the side of Katarina’s face with the tip of her pistol. “This one’s all mine.”

Garrett helplessly flopped in Esme’s direction from his place on the floor.

“Easy now,” Carlisle said, finishing up with Katarina and moving to crouch down beside him. “I said I wouldn’t hurt your girl, and you repay me by goin’ for mine?”

Garrett stared blankly ahead. Carlisle tilted his chin up with his gun to meet his eyes.

“It wouldn’t be the first time you double-crossed though, would it? There was our Kiev deal, then the small matter of you murderin’ your own pal. Lettin’ his kid grow up without a father. What kinda person does that, huh? Ya know, I might be a lotta things. But I know where my loyalties lie. And I’d never betray a friend. Even people like us have rules, and that’s one of ‘em.”

“You wanna talk about the loyalty of friends?” Katarina piped up, prompting Esme to hold her pistol against her head. “You might want to look closer to your own circle.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Esme asked, her eyes narrowed.

“You haven’t wondered where the others are?” Garrett smiled. “They’re actually in your neck of the woods. Meeting with some of your buddies. Ironic really, isn’t it? You come all the way here hoping to kill Tati, only for her to be in your area.”

Alice gave a “hmm” as Carlisle’s eyes flickered to meet Esme’s, then settled back on Garrett’s face. Neither of them could tell whether or not he was trying to throw them, but both understood not to let him.

“We didn’t come here to kill Tatiana,” Esme said cooly. “Any single one ‘a yous woulda done. Instead we got two. I call that a success.”

“Do you?” Katarina cooed. “I wouldn’t be that confident ‘til all of us are dead. Especially if I had a daughter who didn’t know how to shoot.”

Carlisle felt the colour drain from his face. Esme immediately yanked Katarina down by the hair until her cheek hit the floor, then placed a knee on her back.

“What the fuck does your family know about my daughter?” She growled into her ear. “Tell me everything you know and how you know it.”

“It’s hardly a secret,” Katarina said, the words muffled against yet another Persian rug. “You’ve been paradin’ her — what’s her name, Rose or something? — paradin’ her all around New York and Jersey. Don’t tell me you didn’t think people would notice?”

“I hear she’s real pretty,” Garrett added. “And you know us bunch, we like our blondes.”

With that, Carlisle began relentlessly punching him. Garrett’s groans sounded different to how they had sounded in the hallway. Here, he was getting to know much less loving hands.

Esme pulled at Katarina’s hair again. “Tell me who told you about my daughter.”

“No.”

She shifted so she could better aim for Katarina’s kneecap, then shot it. The blonde let out an agonising scream, which woke Carlisle from his blind rage just long enough to look up and spot a marble urn on the fireplace.

“Tell me who told you about my daughter.”

“Fuck you,” Katarina moaned, writhing in pain.

Carlisle got up and grabbed the urn, dumped whatever ashes were inside into the fire pit, and made his way back to Garrett.

Esme flipped Katarina over and shot her other kneecap. Another ear-piercing scream blocked out the sound of Carlisle beating Garrett with the urn.

“Tell me something. Anything about what or how you know.”

Katarina simply whimpered. Esme pressed her foot against her knee, but the scream that followed was feeble. She would soon pass out from either blood loss or pain.

“You’re not gonna tell me anything?”

Katarina barely shook her head. Esme sighed and shot her between the eyebrows.

Carlisle was sitting still and staring at Garrett when she made her way over to him. “Is he dead?”

He shrugged.

She picked up the urn from the floor and gave Garrett’s body several extra beats to be sure.

“Is now,” Alice said quietly. Neither of them laughed.

Carlisle rubbed at his temple while Esme sat back beside him and leaned her head on his shoulder.

“They know about Rosie,” was all he said.

She nodded.

“Guess there’s no goin’ back now. Even if she wanted to, there’s no way she can go back to the life she had.”

“No,” Esme agreed.

“I get it now,” he mumbled, more to himself than to her.

“Get what?”

“I think...I’m finally worried.”

They sat in silence for a moment. Alice awkwardly cleared her throat.

“Alice, what they said about our friends—” Carlisle started.

“I won’t say anything,” she said before he could finish. They both trusted that. If Alice was a betrayer, they’d already be dead.

“Thanks.”

He closed his eyes for a few seconds before standing up. Esme didn’t like seeing him so uneasy. He was her comforter, so if he needed comforting, things weren’t good. But he did need comforting, and as his person, it was her job to do so.

“Alice, could you mute us for a while?” Esme asked as she got to her feet. “And turn off the living room camera? We need a minute.”

Alice hesitated. “Alright. But watch the time, for Rose’s sake. And I’ll mute you, but don’t mute me in case I need to warn you about unexpected visitors elsewhere in the property.”

“Thanks,” Esme said.

“Okay, I can’t see or hear you now. So if you need my attention, go to another room.”

Esme tugged Carlisle’s arm. “Help me move the bodies out of this room. I want it to be just us.”

He looked at her with confusion, but did as she asked.

Rosalie stared at the numbers on her timer. Forty-eight minutes and fifty-three seconds, and still no sign of her parents. Her free hand drummed at the steering wheel the way her fingers had before they left.

“C’mon, c’mon,” she muttered at the windshield. She felt her eyes start to well up and blinked furiously.

“Fine. An hour,” she promised aloud to no one, in attempt to settle herself. “We’ll hang on ‘til it’s been an hour.”

She glanced back at the timer, but a noise made her look up again. There the pair of them were, running towards her, open coats flapping in the wind. She exhaled with relief and started the engine. The headlights lit them up as she drove forward, giving her a full view of them. Both were covered in blood splatters.

“Thank god,” she cried as each of them swung open a door and hopped in the back.

“Hey, Princess,” Carlisle greeted her as she sped off.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Esme chirped. “Thanks for waitin’. Sorry we’re late.”

Rosalie frowned. Her tone was...strange. In the rearview mirror, she found the two of them staring at each other dreamily. Then, she registered Carlisle’s messed hair, and realised it wasn’t a tough fight that had delayed them.

“You assholes!” she seethed. “Do you have any fucking idea what ran through my mind?! I thought you were dead! I thought I was gonna get myself killed waiting around for two people who’d never come, because they were dead!”

“Sorry,” they said in unison.

“That’s it? You scare me into believing you’re dead and all I get is a simple sorry?”

“You were scared for us?” Esme sounded pleased. Rosalie rolled her eyes.

“You’re right,” Carlisle added. “That was selfish. Worry isn’t a nice feelin’. And a simple sorry isn’t all you get for it. We’ll head down Fifth Ave once we’re home if you like.”

She did like the sound of that, but she didn’t want him to think she could be easily won round. “Fine,” she said with a sigh.

“Oh and Rose?” Esme asked.

“Yeah?”

“We’re teaching you to shoot.”

118 notes · View notes

lilbabycee · 4 years

Text

tidal // steve rogers 🌊

↳ summary: tony doesn’t trust his kid and steve has to play mediator, although those duties don’t come without a reward

↳ relationship: dad’s best friend!steve rogers x stark!reader

↳ request: steve defending his soft girl when she starts crying when someone yelled at her...maybe she thanks him by putting her mouth to good use @donutloverxo + what about dad’sbestfriend!steve x reader?...I need me some Steve please!! (anon)

↳ word count: 5.4k (this has no business being this long)

↳ warnings: angst, smut, dirty talk, slight degradation, some light fluff kinda

↳ author’s note: i do love a stark!reader so this was so much fun for me - enjoy my loves! x

The relationship that you have with your father is complicated. It reminds you acutely of the foamy sea that you used to tentatively wade in and simply stare at with a wide-eyed, childlike fascination when your parents took you to the Maldives or Seychelles or Ivory Coast, each summer a different place and a different tide. There’s a sense of predictability to it, a routine you have in a language that is understandable to nobody but the two of you. He pushes and you pull, coordinating your movements in a choreographed dance so as to safely row your canoe filled to the brim with trust and love through the rocky seas of life.

He’s made a mark on you that will always be a permanent imprint on your soul much like the way that water stains the surface of the sand but it’s not as if you perceive that as something negative. You attribute the best parts of yourself to your mother and father and although their DNA isn’t housed inside your body, you’re more Tony’s child than he could have ever asked for. He hears so much of him in the tone of your voice and sees Pepper whenever you cross your arms over your chest and pin him with a look he knows too well - her influence is all over your mannerisms - and the both of them in the charming brightness of your smile when you let yourself laugh freely.

The moment he saw you, barely hours old and sleeping deeply - something that he found out that you would carry with you throughout your years - he’d thought you were cute (all babies are cute and the hundreds of other babies he’d seen in the past few weeks were also cute). But when you’d instinctively gripped Pepper’s finger tightly in your impossibly tiny fist and blinked awake sleepily, he’d fallen in love with your pretty eyes first, the way that you stared through him like you already knew him and it was then that he knew you were his as much as he was yours.

Of course, things weren’t- aren’t always as picture-perfect as they seem. He knows that there are days when you haunt his nightmares, dreams where he can’t protect you plaguing his conscience and causing him to crowd you with what he thinks is love. Rather, it’s an overbearing and often patronizing kind of attention that feels like a thousand sharp needles piercing through your skin. You’re very in touch with your emotions, a quality about you that Tony is sure that you must’ve learned from your mother, while he has the tendency to avoid sentimentality like it’s a disease and that’s where those arguments start, the ones that flare up and spread like forest fires.

In fact, you’re having one of them now. Tony knew how this was going to end before it even began but he can’t help but always engage because he’s as stubborn as he raised you to be. His jaw is set and his nostrils flaring as he stares at you - you’re his progeny, his baby, half of his heart who is standing in that way that reminds him of his wife with crystals in your eyes that make him wonder if you ever wear that diamond necklace he bought you last year.

“You never take me seriously,” you accuse, narrowing your eyes at him which causes a fat teardrop to spill over and run down your cheek. His eyes soften briefly at the sight of your emotional state before he looks away, the painful tugging at his heart trying to pull him towards you. He won’t give in to it: that’ll mean you win. “See - you can’t even look at me, Dad-”

“Sweetheart, I take you plenty seriously,” Tony gnaws on the end of the pen in his mouth, still sitting in front of the holograms of all of the data he’s been trying to process for the past few hours. His feet are propped up on the table, casually crossed at the ankles and shoulders completely relaxed, leaning back in his chair and balancing precariously one of the wheels, sitting in the exact same way that he always told you not to. He taps out a rhythmic beat against his leg with his fingers, eyes darting around the room as he pretends to be interested in everything but you.

His entire posture radiates the feeling that he doesn’t give a shit about you or what you have to say and it makes your heart sink to your stomach despite the fact that you know this man. You know that he’s just putting on a front and he’s really listening because he was the one who drilled into your head that you always have something to say that’s worth listening to. Yet you cannot for the life of you accept that this man in front of you is acting so coldly when his own daughter is trying to tell him how she feels.

The scoff that comes out of your mouth is involuntary and Tony can’t fight the twitch of his lips because it sounds so much like him, but he only lets it linger for half a second, not allowing you to see how affected he is. Both him and Pepper were under the impression that once they had kids, Tony would finally take the steps towards being willing to share more of himself with the people around him. And he did, for a while. But once you hit those teenage years, he was forced to come to terms with the fact that you wouldn’t be his baby forever - you’d grow up and think your own thoughts and breathe your own air in an environment that he hasn’t polluted with his own ideals.

His heart beat out of his chest every time he thought about it and he had to face the facts: he was scared. And so he went on the defensive, coddling you and trying to shield you from the harsh realities of the world that he had to face from such a young age. Unfortunately for the both of you, you didn’t appreciate being spoon-fed by your parents your whole life: you have a sense of maturity and independence that Tony is terrified of and it manifested itself in rebellion, a phase in your adolescence hat had almost gotten cost you your life in more situations than he cared to admit.

“I’m not kidding, Dad,” you reply, your head feeling as if it’s under construction because the unbearably loud banging on the inside of your brain is driving you crazy because he’s deflecting and you know it. A river of tears slide their way down to your chin and you don’t even bother to wipe them. “And you keep making jokes like this isn’t serious-”

“I haven’t been making jokes,” Tony points out calmly, playing around with a bunch of numbers that don’t mean anything to you and distractedly manoeuvering some stupid data table that is somehow more interesting than his own child.

As much as you try, you genuinely can’t help it when you stomp your foot, the loud noise breaking through Tony’s nonchalance and causing him to arch an eyebrow at you.

“This isn’t some temper tantrum, Dad,” you tell him, the strength in your voice breaking down and causing it to crack. Your hands come up to clutch your head tightly in a futile attempt to bring yourself back to Earth, tired of the way that your emotions throw your brain into orbit. Your feet are on the ground but it doesn’t feel like it, your rage burning your skin and setting a bonfire in the depths of your body. “You fight me on everything - first it was college then it was working for S.I then it was becoming an Avenger… you think I’m still some little kid-”

“Because you’ve proven time after time that you can’t fend for yourself,” Tony cocks his head as your eyes lock, daring you to challenge him on his statement because the two of you know how much validity it holds.

“That was one time!-”

Tony sighs, shaking his head in what you assume is disappointment and while in any other scenario your heart would’ve sunk, this time it stays where it’s been for the past ten minutes, perishing in the flames licking the sides of your stomach. He gathers some of his papers and tucks the pen in his mouth behind his ear before he starts to make his way to the door, leaving you to stare at his back as his hand drops on the handle and he addresses you again. “One time that you could’ve gotten killed, Y/N, so we’re not doing this today-”

“You know what, Tony?”

You’ve never called him that before - not even when you’re in large crowds and everyone seems to be yelling Dad! - and you know it’s vindictive and a step too far but it’s exhausting being treated like a helpless child. This has the desired effect, freezing him in his tracks and as he turns on his heel, you know that you may have crossed a line but you can’t bring yourself to care because your fury has consumed your whole body and the heat is boiling the blood running through your veins.

“What did you just call me?”

“Anthony,” you inform him matter-of-factly, hands on your hips while the hardness of his eyes halts your racing blood flow, the iciness freezing your bones while hot rage seeps out of every single one of his pores so palpably that you can almost see the steam spilling out of his ears. “You can fuck right off until you decide that I can be trusted enough to make decisions for myself and you know what else? You can-”

“Hey, hey, what’s going on in here?”

You bite back your next words as soon as that rich timbre caresses your ears and the rigid posture of your body begins to slowly melt at the sound. You don’t even have to look behind you to know that it’s your dad’s best friend - ever the hero - coming to diffuse the ticking time bomb that is this argument between you and your father.

“This isn’t your battle to fight, Rogers,” Tony doesn’t peel his eyes off of you at all, not even sparing his friend a glance.

And as much as you don’t like Tony at the moment, you can’t help but agree with him.

“Steve, he’s right,” you tear your eyes away from your dad, turning around so that you can glance over at the golden man whose presence alone has wrapped you in a comforting safety blanket that already makes you want to stand down.

“No, neither of you are,” his blond hair is pushed back away from his face and you’re momentarily distracted by the hard lines of his jaw and the thick beard that covers them. He’s speaking in that same low voice that he uses to rally the Avengers when he’s clad in red, white, and blue, and you have to discreetly squeeze your thighs together at the sound.

The rational part of your brain knows that this is not the time to be ogling your dad’s best friend but you can’t help the way that your heart starts beating double time when he enters a room and how his warm gaze sets your entire body alight, not unlike the way that your unbridled anger is making you feel right now; the only difference is that Steve triggers a deep desire for something unknown tucked away so secretly that it only awakened when you met him.

But you know he’d never do that to Tony - shit, you don’t know if he’s still holding a candle for a love once lost all those years ago and frankly, you don’t want to risk embarrassing yourself by feeling the poison sting of rejection dealt from the sickeningly sweet lips of America’s apple pie. The lethal mix of sugar and malice would only rot your heart and you don’t know that you could survive the decay.

“In fact, both of you are acting like children,” he booms, his hands landing on his hips while he shakes his head disbelievingly at your familial dispute. Steve opens his mouth as if he’s about to continue, but Tony simply holds a hand up and it almost immediately shushes the supersoldier.

“No need, Capiscle,” Tony cocks his head to the side almost mockingly, his eyes still glued resolutely on your wet face. “I just wanna say this: if you are going to be so ungrateful of everything that your mother and I have sacrificed for you, then you can get the fuck out of my house. You have no idea what we’ve had to go through just so that you can live a safe, healthy lifestyle in which you don’t have to want for anything. The fact that you have the audacity to speak to me like that is a testament to how much we’ve failed as parents because you are the fruit of all of our labor: a spoiled little brat with no conception of the real world because everything revolves around you, doesn’t it princess?”

He spits the endearment out and you can only assume that it is because it has left as bitter a taste in his mouth as it has yours. Throughout his heated rant, your hands started shaking and at first, you couldn’t figure out why but you soon realized that it’s because Tony’s never yelled at you like that before. He barely even raises his voice at you because he’s never wanted to be anything like Howard but today, it seems as if he could no longer contain all of the pent up frustration that he’s had with you that has been building for years.

And because of this, you’ve been rendered speechless with no visible emotion on your face save from the seemingly endless stream of tears that spill from your glassy eyes. You don’t know what hurts more: his words or the fact that he’s still staring at you like a stranger.

“Tony, that’s enough,” Steve intervenes when the silence between the three of you stretches on for what feels like an eternity. He positions his body so that he’s blocking you from your father’s cold stare. “I’m not gonna let you talk to her like that-”

“Oh, come on, Cap,” Tony scoffs and you don’t have to be able to see him to know that he’s folded his arms over his chest. “You don’t even know what-”

“And I don’t need to know,” the broad man in front of you interrupts him loudly and you can do nothing but watch the altercation happen because even if you tried, you can’t pick your feet up off the floor. “Whatever she’s done or said to you doesn’t warrant you speaking to her like that. You’ve fought her at every corner, what do you expect? For her to just lie down and take it? She’s your daughter: you should know as well as I do that she’s as hard-headed as you. You need to take a step back and stop being a backseat driver - she’s an adult now and can make her own choices, Tony.”

And with that, Steve circles an arm around you and lifts you up into his arms, his waist trapped between your legs and your arms gripping his neck. A moment passes when Steve breezes past Tony where your gazes meet and the usual sweetness of his hazelnut eyes has turned bitter with guilt and resentment. You avert your stare as quickly as you can to bury your face in Steve’s muscled shoulder and as your cheek rests on it, you’re reminded all too vividly of the way that Bucky or Sam or Steve (or your dad) used to carry you to bed when you had fallen asleep between the pages of your textbook or face down next to a cold bowl of whatever Pepper had cooked for you that night.

Really, you’re almost convinced that you must’ve dozed off during the short trip from Tony’s lab to your bedroom because when you finally snap back to attention, you’re still in Steve’s arms but he’s standing still in front of your bed. And neither of you say anything for some time, letting the moment breathe while Steve soothes you silently, rubbing a hand up and down the length of your spine as quiet sobs wrack your shaking body.

“Hey, hey,” he hushes you, eventually sliding you down his body and placing you on the bed. You’re sure that your face still reflects your previous mental state but you feel significantly better now, the hive of bees that were slamming at the insides of your heart have tired both you and themselves out and are now resting. You look up at Steve with wide eyes, wet lashes brushing your skin lightly as his baby blues drill into yours so deeply that you’re sure that he must be able to see inside your head by now. “I’m not gonna ask if you’re okay because the answer seems kind of obvious, but I will ask if you need anything?”

You hesitate before giving him an answer, torn between confessing those powerful feelings for him that you’ve tried so hard to repress and letting him go. Instead, you grab one of his hands between both of yours, tugging on it so that he kneels in front of you.

“You didn’t have to do that for me back there,” your eyes flick up to his quickly and you can’t help it when you start to play with his fingers, consciously having to stop your mind from wandering to unsavory places. “I-I know you and my dad are, like, best friends, so I never would’ve asked you to put your friendship at risk and stand up for me like that… it was, uh- it was really sweet of you, Steve, so thank you-”

Steve jerks his head back and for a tense second, your heart drops because you’re sure that you’ve offended him but then he says:

“Y/N, you don’t have to thank me- not at all, I mean- it was the human thing to do,” Steve insists, forcefully grasping your chin in his large hand to make him look at you. The disbelief that sparkles in his eyes lights up your soul and makes a shy smile spread across your lips.

He leans in to plant a chaste kiss on your cheek like he usually does, but you decide there and then that you really are tired of having your dad take the reigns from you every day. You want to be able to confidently grab life by its metaphorical balls and take a leap of faith off of what is admittedly a very steep cliff. So you grip his face between your hands and redirect his lips to your own.

He’s completely unresponsive for several seconds, causing a scorching hot wave of embarrassment to flood your face - a part of you wants to hold out hope and pray that maybe he’s just shocked by your bold move but you’ve learned not to cling onto unrealistic expectations so you move back, eyes squeezed shut because you can already taste the sourness of rejection on your tongue.

But he knocks all of the breath out of your body when he climbs on top of you and crashes his lips back on yours, cradling your face between his wide palms as he slides his tongue into your mouth. It’s messy and raw as your teeth clash with his almost violently but the feeling of his soft lips on yours soothes that ache, their warmth curing the hurt in your heart. He swallows any breath you have left in your lungs as your lips move in tandem with his.

When you pull away because you think you’re about to suffocate, Steve presses his lips down the column of your neck, sucking a bruise right underneath your ear and playfully biting your earlobe. The rough sensation of his thick beard on your sensitive skin makes you giggle breathlessly and your chest heaves as his hands move smoothly down to your waist, hooking his thumbs in the waistband on your shorts.

But then his hands stop moving and you look at him with confusion written all over your face. He lowers his head to your abdomen, resting his forehead on your stomach and your hand instinctively weaves through the golden strands of his hair.

“Steve?-”

“You want this, sweetheart?” he kisses your stomach and moves right in between your legs, looking up at you as his thumbs still toy with the stretchy material of your black shorts.

“Of course-”

And you don’t get to finish your sentence because you gasp as Steve whips off your shorts with unprecedented speed. He takes your panties right with them, throwing them somewhere to the side - you don’t care to notice where because Steve’s eyes are more black than blue and his gaze is locked on your core.

This is when you get an idea.

When you take your t-shirt off, you’re only left in the black bralette that you normally wear around the house, so you whip that off too without any preamble. Steve’s eyes are so focused on the bounce of your breasts that it gives you the opportunity to muster up all of the energy you can, locking your legs around Steve’s waist (your eyes can’t help but travel to the obvious bulge in his blue jeans) and flip him over so that you’re sitting right on top of his erection.

“Wh-”

You shush him, pulling at the bottom of his shirt so that he gets the message to take it off. He does as he’s told but narrows his eyes at you. You almost don’t notice because you’re staring at the glorious expanse of his sculpted upper body. You’ve always thought that he looked like a Greek statue and right now, the way that the sunlight streaming through your window bounces off of his smooth skin and brings out the green in his eyes only emphasizes the fact that he’s a true work of art, a masterpiece in his own right.

Pushing yourself up so that you’re nose to nose with the supersoldier on his back underneath you, you lean down just enough so that your lips ghost over his when you speak.

“I’m supposed to be thanking you,” you press your lips against his momentarily, watching the way that his eyelashes flutter when you slowly slide your hand down his powerful chest, over his muscled stomach and down to his jeans-clad crotch to boldly palm his dick.

“Honey, you don’t have to-”

You cut him off with another quick kiss, moving down his body with the grace of a trained dancer (you can thank your mom for over ten years of ballet) so that you can unbuckle the black belt at his narrow waist. Steve props himself up on his forearms, staring down at you with hooded eyes and your eyes keenly follow the swipe of his tongue over his cotton candy lips.

You take your time pulling his zipper down, noticing how his eyes follow the movement of your hands as you push his jeans down his thick thighs. Your mouth is close to watering at the sight of his white Calvins which are very obviously tented in the front and you snap the elastic band of his boxer briefs playfully before pulling them over his erection.

It’s impossible to stop the way that your eyes grow comically large at the size of his cock, something at the back of your mind wondering whether or not you’ll be able to fully take him down your throat. He’s heavy in the both of your hands, the tip flushed red and leaking pre-cum.

But it’s the cocky little smirk on Steve’s face that steels your resolve.

“What’s wrong, baby? Too big for you?” he teases you in a surprisingly steady voice, inhaling again to continue his jeering, but his head falls back and his breath audibly stutters because you flatten your tongue and lick a broad stripe up the underside of his dick.

“You were saying?” you taunt right back, a smile of your own gracing your face. He doesn’t have a reply to that, instead moving his hand down to grip the back of your neck tightly, guiding you back down to his cock.

The tip of your tongue swirls around the head of his length before you take the bulbous tip between your lips, sucking lightly and enjoying the way that his blunt fingernails are stabbing into the skin of your neck. You don’t tease him for much longer, one hand on the base of his manhood while you relax your throat and attempt to take all of him in your mouth. Your fight your gag reflex tooth and nail, reveling in the quiet sighs and moans from the man above you.

What you can’t swallow you work with your hand, your other hand coming up to toy with his balls and roll them between your fingers and palm. He controls the speed at which you bob up and down his cock and you keep watching the array of emotions on his face, feeling the power and control that you have over him surge through your body.

“God, doll,” he groans, his lower lip between his perfect teeth. “You’re such a good girl, takin’ all of me like that.”

His words spur you on and you really push your boundaries by taking him all the way down, so close that your nose is being tickled by the dark blond hairs at the base of his cock. What you’re not expecting is the way that Steve applies pressure to the back of your neck that’s just enough so that you can’t move. Your eyes sting as he keeps your head down, making you swallow and choke as small tears leak from your eyes. You’re forced to breathe through your nose as Steve groans when your gag reflex kicks in, your throat constricting around the heavy weight of his dick.

“Such a good little slut, huh?” he smirks, running the pad of his thumb over your cheekbone. “You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth, baby, suckin’ your dad’s friend off like a little fuckin’ whore.”

You can’t help the way that a loud moan falls from your lips, though it’s almost entirely muted by the thick cock in your mouth.

“Oh, you like that?” Steve’s confidence is only making you wetter. He eases up on your neck, allowing you to withdraw about an inch before he pushes you back down. “You like being called a slut, pretty girl?”

You nod as best as you can under the circumstances, fighting back another moan.

“That’s good, honey, because you’re gonna be my little cockslut from now on, hmm?”

And finally, he pulls you off of him completely, reveling in the way that your eyes are glossy with tears and your lungs gulp down huge breaths as thin strings of saliva hang from your lips.

“Messy girl,” Steve reprimands you condescendingly, but his voice sounds strained and he looks like he could cum just from drinking in your disheveled state. “You’re gorgeous, doll.”

You can’t stop the smile that grows on your face at the praise, and Steve cups your face gently and leans in to give you a sweet kiss.

“You gonna let me cum in your mouth, sweetheart?” he murmurs against your lips, nudging your nose with his.

“Yes, sir,” you tease playfully, not wasting any more time and wrapping your lips around his dick once again, running the tip of your tongue against the prominent vein down the side while you bob your head up and down. You’re more determined than ever to push him over the edge, wanting to be the one who has complete control over his pleasure.

“That’s it, just like that- shit, baby, I’m gonna cum,” he warns you after he takes your face between both of his hands and fucks your mouth, your jaw relaxed as he uses you to chase his orgasm, eyes closed and head hanging back as he loses himself in the throes of desire.

You bask in the sense of satisfaction that you get from the way that his cock twitches in your mouth and the shout that he gives when the evidence of his release floods your mouth. You happily let it slide down your throat, sucking on his tip lightly as you do. The tangy taste lingers on your tongue and as you pull off of him with a pop, you have to wipe around your mouth because you’re sure that he’s made a complete mess of your face.

“Holy fuck, darlin’,” he heaves, pulling you up to rest against his chest but not before you take the time to admire how beautiful he is. A light pink flush that’s started at his cheeks has traveled down his neck and bloomed on his chest - you love the way that it’s burning the tips of his ears. With your chest pressed against his, he ghosts his fingers up and down your back while his lips press against your shoulder.

“Your dad’s gonna kill me… and I didn’t even get you off, baby,” he mutters, only a second away from pouting and it makes you grin.

“He won’t because he’s not gonna find out… and I didn’t want you to,” you reply simply, lightly circling one of his nipples with the tip of your nail. “Besides, you have plenty of time to do that later.”

Steve readjusts himself so that his back is leaning against the headboard and you’re perched in his lap, straddling his thighs. His brows are knitting together and a frustrated frown mars his pretty face.

“No, I want to,” he insists, warm hands landing on your hips and rocking them back and forth so that your clit catches on the muscles of his legs. You bite your lip so as to suppress a moan. “It wouldn’t be-”

“Y/N, babe, are you in there?”

The two of you still as a knock followed by Tony’s soft voice bleeds through the door.

“Shit,” you curse quietly, scrambling off of Steve and grabbing the nearest article of clothing that you can find.

“I know you don’t wanna talk to me right now, but I don’t wanna leave things like this so I’m comin’ in, sweetie-”

“Dad, no!”

But it’s too late, the door opening just enough to reveal your father’s face whose whiskey eyes immediately land on yours. Thankfully, you were able to pull on Steve’s shirt and your shorts, but you can’t say the same for the six-foot-something supersoldier who has skillfully rolled underneath your bed, still naked as the day he was born.

“What’s going on in here, hon?” Tony quirks an eyebrow at you as he pops his head around the door, narrowing his eyes suspiciously as his eyes scan the room.

“Nothing,” you say breathlessly, running a hand over your face as you silently pray that your dad won’t catch his friend hiding beneath your bed with no clothes on.

“Okay?” he draws out the word, obviously confused as your eyes meet his. “I just wanted to say so-”

“We’ll talk about it later, Dad,” you try to smile and move towards him so that you shoo him away from your room.

“You sure?”

“Positive,” you affirm, putting your hand on top of the one he has wrapped around the side of the door and squeezing it reassuringly.

“If you say so,” Tony lets go of the door, spinning on his heel and starting to stroll down the hall. You let go of the breath that you weren’t aware you were holding. “And give Bucky back his shirt!”

A laugh bubbles up in your chest as your heart warms watching your dad throw a wink at you over his shoulder, knowing that the choppy seas have stilled and the water’s calm once again, the tide returning to its regular routine. You shut the door with a click before turning back to see Steve sitting casually with his back resting against the side of your bed.

“So, uh,” a cheeky smile graces his face. “Same time tomorrow or?”

tagged: @literaturefeen @evnscvll @donutloverxo @stargazingfangirl18

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers blurb #steve rogers blurbs #steve rogers headcanons #steve rogers headcanon #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers imagines #marvel cinematic universe #marvel fanfiction #steve x reader #steve x you #stark!reader

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meichenxi · 4 years

Text

*rant commencing*

ok guys let’s sit down and have a think about the way we talk to kids, particularly neurodivergent ones, and the weight it carries

the other day, I opened up to a friend about something really hurtful my best (and only) friend said to me when I was fifteen. It was a moment of emotional intimacy and the first time I had brought it up seven years later and, once again, I got laughed at and told I was too fucking sensitive

and ok maybe yeah I was a ridiculous child. I’m a ridiculous adult, that shouldn’t be surprising. But this hurt and hurt and hurt and I was trying to think about why this in particular and not anything else was so painful

so here’s the situation. at fifteen, like many smart kids, everyone thought the world was open to me. Ok I had no social skills to speak of and was ostracised by teachers and students and family, but I was an optimistic kid, and in a disaster of a home situation (involving kidnappings and court cases and running away and being out of school for a year and a brother starting drugs at 12 and living in a shelter and basically just a LOT) I was always the smiley helpful one. and apart from being defeated by very simple mechanisms like idk drawers or biscuit packets, I picked things up quickly. I took GCSEs early and extra and tutored others; I was a regional competitive swimmer in breaststroke and open water; I taught myself the flute and got into an international touring youth orchestra without lessons; I won a poetry competition for adults in primary school; I played competitive netball and was a long distance runner; I drew and sold my art; I wrote shitty novels and started making conlangs and was interviewed on bbc world about it; I loved performing and was invited to join a theatre company when I left school; and my biggest passion in the entire world apart from Tolkien was martial arts. And the best thing was for my parents - one of whom was disabled and didn’t work and the other who was a cleaner - is that I worked two paper rounds and tutored younger children and earned all of the money for it myself. blah blah blah. I was your mum’s friend’s kid.

well, I’m a disaster adult, so you can probably guess that none of that lasted for very long. and there are gazillions of people here with exactly the same story.

the point in question, though, was when I was fifteen and thinking about sixth form (the last two years of school in the UK) it was becoming clear alarmingly fast that you weren’t allowed to just keep doing everything you loved. at some point you had to make a choice.

but how could I give up swimming for music? Or music for languages? Or languages for athletics? Or athletics for theatre? or, actually, all of them but one???? how did people just know what they had to do with their lives? how did they choose?

the problem was, I said to my friend, I know I could do well at any of them, so how was I supposed to choose? (tactless and a stupid thing to say and also just not true but I was fifteen and simultaneously disgustingly cocky and cripplingly insecure) And he laughed and said, well, fuck you then.

oh noooo. poor meeeeeee. I’m so fucking good at things what do I dooooo

I haven’t stopped thinking about that comment for seven years. Every single time I think about wasting my potential, every time I can’t sleep because I’m terrified that I’m not being productive or useful and hating myself because I’m upset that I can’t do something right away and I know it’s a stupid thing to be upset about - I think about that comment. I’m lucky. It’s alright for some.

because, actually, being expected to know what to do with your life aged 15 is a fucking terrifying thing. we were kids at fifteen being told to make decisions as if we had all the facts, as if we weren’t also being blindfolded and spun around in circles until we couldn’t stand. Do you do what your parents say? what you think you want to do? what your teachers say? do you just stay in education even though it’s not for you because your dream is stupid, or because you don’t have a dream like everyone else seems to? are you supposed to have a dream?

*it’s NOT a stupid thing to worry about*

particularly when? well, when your entire self worth equates to the things that you output, the things that you do. so just for a moment, put yourself in the shoes of all of these wonderful, dazzling, damaged, crazy kids with big dreams and big hearts, kids that are struggling right now and kids that are our future, and imagine that you’ve been told since you were old enough to read or speak or walk that you’re just so very clever

isn’t it just wonderful how clever you are? isn’t it just great how we never need to worry about you? you’re such an easy child, it’s a blessing. always so considerate, so thoughtful, never making a fuss! isn’t it just fantastic how well you do in school? I can’t imagine what it must be like to have a child who went to all of those nasty parties. you’re so dedicated

raise your hand if you were only ever told you were good. raise your hand if you were never told you were kind.

so, what happens? you take a child, and you tell them for its entire childhood that they’re clever. You don’t tell them that they’re creative, or hard-working, or dedicated, or driven, or helpful. You let them know that it’s ok that they’re weird, because they’re going to be successful. what do you think parents say to their kid who’s crying because she has no friends and she doesn’t understand what the other children are thinking and why they would hurt each other like that? even good parents, the very best of them, say things like: you’re just more mature than they are. it doesn’t matter. keep your head down - you’ll show them.

your child, in the best case scenario, has access to her hyperfixation that makes the world big and bright and beautiful. she’s a bit weird, but it’s kind of cute. anyway, she’s good at it. and as long as she succeeds, conventionally, and you get to brag, then it’s ok that she’s a little bit unconventional.

and then things to break, just a little. and then, aged eleven, your child is having an asthma attack in the classroom because she got so anxious she couldn’t answer a maths question she couldn’t breathe. it’s ok, her parents tell her the next day. you’re just not good at maths - that’s alright. you don’t have to be good at everything

your child, because she’s perceptive, begins to realise that things don’t get better as you get older. people are just as cruel at 12 as they are at 7, and they’ll be just as cruel at 15. and then one day, as a bad joke because she doesn’t really understand humour, she writes a fake text to her dad from someone’s phone in legalese that actually has a secret code hidden it in that she knows her dad will crack right away because he’s brilliant. she thinks it’s hilarious. her father thinks he is being threatened, and spends the next week in meltdown, bedridden and burnt-out. and when she owns up, he turns and snaps at her, and says as if you could write something like that. an ADULT wrote this, not a fucking child

and suddenly, that cleverness they kept talking about? they don’t even understand that.

suddenly, no one sees her at all.

she needs to learn to be like the other kids. to be like a fucking child. and while she’s learning, she doesn’t speak for a year

that happened to me, but take your pick - I’m sure you don’t have to look far to find examples of your own.

My point is this: if you tell a child for their entire life that the only thing that is worthy of being loved is what they achieve, if every time they do something they love you tell them oh, you could be a famous writer! you’re so talented! rather than saying that you loved listening to their story, if you only praise them when they’re good and quiet and convenient and tell them that as long as they succeed, it doesn’t matter if they don’t have friends or if they’re miserable, and THEN you tell them to choose ONE THING and drop 90% of everything that makes them who they are -

what the hell did you THINK was going to happen??

because here’s the first thing. for many kids, whether that’s because of neurodivergence or age maturity or whatever, hyper fixations and hobbies aren’t just things they like to do. THEY ARE LIFELINES. they’re the things these kids go to when they’re hurt, angry, upset, because they make sense. for many kids, especially but not always girls, they are able to camouflage themselves and mask tendencies of neurodivergence because they’re ‘good students’. at a family gathering once, my mum, so frustrated at my inability and lack of desire to talk to any members of my extended family, snatched my German grammar book and locked it in the boot of the car. knowing that I escape and read it in the toilet was the only thing keeping me going, exhausted and stressed and overwhelmed. I vomited on the grass.

and here’s the second thing. you tell us from an early age that they only way we’ll ever be acceptable to the rest of society is if we succeed. autistic kids are fine, as long as they’re international maths olympiad champions. adhd kids are fine, as long as they’re famous athletes. if you’re obsessed with musicals that’s ok, as long as that obsession leads to a well-paying job as a successful writer on Broadway.

and then you tell us that we only have one chance at that success? and this decision determines the rest of our lives? and that we had so much potential when we were kids, and we better not waste it now? that not everyone is so lucky to be able to choose between so many things??

because being asked to choose between these things isn’t being asked to choose a hobby. when the only way anyone else defines you positively is by your success in one area, that becomes your entire identity.

so no, we’re not being too sensitive when you ask us to pick and choose what career, or what hobby to take forward. you’re not asking about hobbies. you’re asking us to choose what kind of person we want to be. you’re asking us to choose the most impactful way we can give back to the world, because we can’t waste those god-given talents. you’re asking us to figure out, still a child and hopelessly lost, what our purpose on this planet is. and you’re looking at us as if the ways that we survived all of these years, the things we clung to for comfort, are things we can just cast aside without further thought

ask me now, and I’ll tell you that’s not the way things work. we have second chances and third ones and tenth ones, we can be different things to different people and we can do different things at different parts in our lives, and be successful in different areas. life isn’t a fucking flowchart. and I’m still trying to come to terms with all the things I could have been, and my freak-outs about ‘wasted potential’ are so clockwork I could plan my calendar around them, but I’m beginning to understand that life doesn’t end when you’re twenty, or when you haven’t written a best-seller by eighteen. you have time.

but at fifteen? at fifteen, that question broke me.

do you know what you can do instead? you can show a little thoughtfulness. you can be kinder, and lead by example, and praise your kids when they’re kind too. when your son runs to you and shows you what you think is a better picture than you - a stick figure artisan, if you say so yourself - could ever create, you can actually just say you really like it. you can ask him if that’s him and daddy and the dog on a cloud. describe the picture back to him, and engage with this thing he’s made from his imagination - tell him the clouds he’s drawn are so big and fluffy and white, and ask if there are giant spiders living there. you know how to shut a child up? tell them yes dear, it’s wonderful. don’t be that person. promote your kid’s creativity - ask questions, have fun, play with this thing they’ve made - and not destroy it

when your daughter comes to you and shows you a song she’s written, don’t tell her she’s so talented or that she could be a musician one day. just sing along. ask her why she wrote it, and what she was thinking of when she did. ask her if she could make it different for two people singing it at the same time.

and if your child just really, really loves maths? let them do maths. it’s ok if their interests are stereotypical - as long as they love it and it’s fun, supporting them is wonderful. the best present my father ever got me was five hours of tutoring - an introduction to linguistics!! - when I turned twelve, starting on my birthday at 8am. I had never felt so understood and so loved.

as much as these simple things can destroy someone’s life, can stop them talking for a year, you have the chance to be that one voice of kindness that is a friend where a young person needs it most.

for me, this was the Bus Lady. I never knew her first name because I forgot immediately and was too embarrassed to ask again, but we got the bus together for two years right before I applied to university - she was a trainee teacher at my school. she saw that I missed tutor group and sat in the corridor every morning writing, and that I ran laps for an hour every lunchtime instead of sitting alone. but she came and sat with me one morning and asked what I was doing; I was developing a new shorthand and told her so warily.

she didn’t raise her eyebrows or say wow, that’s...that’s amazing. instead she frowned and looked at me skeptically and said ‘But why would you do that? There are plenty of functional shorthands out there - what does your shorthand have that they don’t? Tell me about it.’

I had no idea what to say

this was the first time anyone had actually ENGAGED in any capacity with what I was doing. and just like that, just by treating me seriously and asking valid questions and pointing out inconsistencies, I was a person who happened to have an idea that was in some serious need of questioning, and not a freak

there’s no way she remembers that interaction; she’s been a teacher now for year and probably doesn’t even remember who I am. But I had been this close to not going to university, to not bothering, and she made me stop, and wait a moment

she will never know the difference that that conversation and two months of kindness on the bus from a stranger made in my life.

so let’s be kind to each other, please. let’s be forgiving. let’s challenge each other and let’s engage with kids with special interests and listen to them talk. and so to any educators or teachers or parents or even other kids, I want to say - let’s treat our words seriously and with respect, like we treat our children, because they have immense capacity to hurt, because they can be used for good.

to any other fifteen year olds in a similar position, I just want to say: none of us here on tumblr have properly sorted our lives out, but I promise you it does get so much better.

you’re not too sensitive. you’re not a freak. you’re not only acceptable because you succeed. I know if you’re masking you feel you have to and it’s for survival, and I’m sorry, because you shouldn’t have to. and you should never, never have to think that you ‘have it good’ or that you’re lucky and are not allowed to hurt. there’s always some one who has it worse, and you can’t stop beat yourself up about that. fuck anyone who tells you otherwise. if you have gone through trauma, if you have unhealthy coping mechanisms, if you are depressed or anxious or otherwise mentally ill and some of it stems from this, I am so very very sorry. but you will be ok, even if you can’t write for a couple of years, or even if things change. you’ll get there. speaking as someone who is now writing for the first time in six years, drawing for the first time in longer, it’s scary and new and weird, but you will come out the other side.

and you do work hard. and you are creative. and you are loved. and you are so very, very kind.

*rant over*

#neurodivergence #neurodivergent #adhd #autism #giftedness #gifted kids #tag for this fucking awful school system?#neurodivergent kids #parenting #education #long post #meichenxi rants #mental health #trauma #depression #anxiety #mental illness #sorry for the scary tags I don't mean the post to be scary I'm just annoyed #and it got longer than I thought it would

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filmmakerdreamst · 4 years

Text

How Xena: Warrior Princess Allowed Me To Accept Myself

I was living in a city all alone and these two characters showed me that it was ok for two women to love each other.

In order to understand the following story, there’s something you need to know about me. I have always loved fiction. From the age of about 5 to 11, I loved books more than I loved people. I was a shy child who found it easier to emotionally engage with fictional worlds than the real one around me.

See, fictional worlds are created for your brain’s enjoyment. Their rules make sense. Events happen for a reason. The narrator tells you why characters behave the way they do, allowing you to empathize with them on a deep emotional level. Easy to understand, easy to identify with, easy to love.

But real people are complicated. The real world is complicated. And things are seldom laid out nicely in a coherent narrative format for you. Real things are much harder to love.

This emotional disengagement continued from the age of 11 onwards, although it was no longer as pronounced. My habit of retreating into fiction would fade during good times and come back in force during difficult or stressful periods. During the stressful periods of college, the rise of Netflix allowed me to become certifiably obsessed with my favorite TV shows. And naturally, I joined Tumblr in order to more easily fangirl with people who shared my interests.

Only for some peculiar reason that I didn’t care to examine, my interests were slowly gravitating towards girl-girl couples. Soon I was shipping, reblogging, and reading fanfiction almost exclusively about female couples. But I, who had always considered myself straight despite lacking interest in the boys around me, didn’t think this meant that I was gay. I probably just found female couples more emotionally satisfying. I was friends with mostly women, I was a woman myself, so it was natural that I just understood them better. Yeah, that was probably it.

Fast-forward to nine months ago. I was living in Boston and incredibly depressed about it. My job and my boss were making my life miserable and I had very few people to socialize with. I was making the rough transition from the constant socialization of college to the isolating pressure of a city where I had few connections. My days and nights were some of the loneliest I had ever experienced. I looked for something, anything, to lift the heart-crushing emotional silence.

My solution was the same one I always chose when I was dissatisfied with the real world; obsession with a new TV show. And thanks to my femslash-focused tumblr community, I knew just what my next feel-good show was going to be.

My tumblr friends had told me this: Xena: Warrior Princess is an action-fantasy show that enjoys a cult status, much like Buffy: The Vampire Slayer (which I watched and loved). The two shows were made in the same mid-to-late 90's era, with similar bad special effects and endearing campiness. But XWP is much… MUCH… more gay.

That was about all I knew about the show going in. And amazingly, that was all I needed to know to be excited about watching it. You’d think that fact would have told me something about myself, but no. The mental walls of denial were years in the building and needed more force than that to be shattered.

For anyone unfamiliar with the show’s premise, Xena: Warrior Princess is about the title character and her quest for redemption. You see, Xena did some bad things in her previous life on another show (Hercules: The Legendary Journeys). In her storied career as a warlord, she committed such petty crimes as genocide, the slaughter of innocents, that kind of thing. But now she has seen the light and wants to atone for her crimes. Except she can never undo the terrible things she did. All Xena can do now is help people on a day-to-day basis and hope that it’s enough for someone to show her mercy.

Which is already fantastic from a character standpoint. But there is a secret mirror to Xena’s journey that is not reflected in the show’s title, and that is Gabrielle and her character arc.

Oh! Gabrielle! When I met her in the very first episode, I loved her straightaway. She is a feisty, naive, talkative small-town girl who accompanies Xena on all her adventures. Her character quickly assumes paramount importance in the narrative. Gabrielle is Xena’s only friend. She comes to know her better than anyone else and love her for who she is, all the while believing Xena can reach redemption. Yet Gabrielle is not just a support system for Xena; she goes on her own heroic journey. The two character arcs intertwine and co-develop in a way I have never seen in any show before or since.

As each episode rolled by and their relationship grew in complexity, I found myself more and more engrossed. And I came to realize: this was something I wanted. The day I accepted my own desire was the day I accepted myself. What could be more strangling than denying the existence of your own feelings? Yet I had been doing this to myself for years — cutting off the possibility of being attracted to other women — without even realizing.

Before beginning the show, I thought the fandom had read in between the lines to construct a romantic relationship between the two characters, the same way as femslash shippers do in all other TV shows. Except not this time. This one is mind-blowingly different.

Not only does the narrative place utmost importance on the relationship between Xena and Gabrielle, but the actresses bring such multi-dimensional love to their parts. When I saw Lucy Lawless (Xena) and Renee O’Connor (Gabrielle) interact, I could so easily believe that these two women loved each other beyond friendship. Xena and Gabrielle display every kind of love you can think of. They protect and sacrifice for each other. They tease and flirt. They cuddle and console. They have inside jokes with each other. They dance sexily. They play pranks and drive each other crazy. They sweetly kiss. They come back from the dead together. They bathe together. They raise each other’s children. They meet in alternate timelines and fall in love all over again.

I could have left my mental walls of denial in place. I could have said to myself “oh yes, I want this. But with a guy.” But no. Lawless and O’Connor’s incredibly attractive faces and bodies broke down the door of my mental closet. Precisely because they were fictional, I felt safe to admit my attraction to them. One of the key mental blocks I had always had towards accepting any attraction towards other women was the thought that I was being creepy. That since they could not possibly feel the same way about me, it was wrong to feel the way I did. But in my mind, that barrier didn’t exist with fictional characters. They couldn’t feel anything for me. Therefore, it was fine to feel whatever I want about them.

The walls cracked. The water came rushing in. Oh my god. I am attracted to other women. Like, every day of my life. Those flickers in my stomach when I talk to an attractive female coworker suddenly make a whole lot of sense now. I now saw my historical awkwardness when talking to beautiful girls, which I always dismissed as “me being weird”, for what it was. All those short-term girl crushes on older girls throughout high school. How was I so sure they were platonic? That heart-aching infatuation I had with my best friend that lasted for years? Yeah, add that to the ‘definitely gay’ list.

Since then I’ve realized that my feelings are valid regardless of what others feel for me. Just because feelings are unrequited doesn’t mean they aren’t real. That’s what Xena and Gabrielle taught me. Their fictional example was the final blow to my rapidly-crumbling resistance to the idea of homosexuality.

In our culture today, so many forms of media reinforce heteronormativity. How many commercials have you seen that assume attraction between a man and a woman? How many billboards tell women that they need to look sexy for the men in their lives? How many times has a movie ended with the guy getting the girl? It’s the combined action of a thousand small rocks shifting to make a cultural avalanche. You can’t move against it. All you can do is stand still and try to maintain your footing against the current, to maintain your identity in the face of a world where you and people like you are often swept away by the mainstream.

Xena: Warrior Princess is one of those rare stories that dares to go against the grain. It celebrates a romantic relationship between two women as the most natural thing in the world. And in doing so, it provides a mirror for me and people like me to recognize themselves in. There we are. Look at us fly.

This story isn’t over yet. I still have a lot of work to do to accept myself, but thanks to Xena and Gabrielle I’ve taken one huge step towards living the open life I want to live. I moved on from that horrible job and lonely city, but in the end I’m grateful. Grateful that circumstances pushed me to the depths of loneliness necessary to bring down the prison I had built in my own mind.

- How Xena: Warrior Princess Allowed Me To Accept Myself by Lyra Hall

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ateezmakemeweep · 4 years

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you’re taking reaction/imagine requests? asdfghjkl um- can we have an imagine with ateez teasing and embarrassing you in front of your classmates during your online classes during quarantine? i know it sounds lame zxcbxm

❥ kim hongjoong

“so i was thinking i could do this part and maybe you could do-“

hongjoong opened the door to your shared bedroom, making you look up from your computer and narrow your eyes at your boyfriend. you subtly shake your head at him before continuing to speak to your project partners.

he had heard you complain for the past week about how they hadn’t been doing anything, that their powerpoint slides and essay portion still wasn’t done despite the deadline being tomorrow. he raised an eyebrow at the girl’s nasally voice saying that she still didn’t quite understand what she had to do.

he could only listen to you for so long try to explain it to her, voice high and shaky the way it always is when you’re uncomfortable; he knows how much you prefer working alone, that group work and public speaking are the two worst aspects for you in school.

it’s why he prances his way over to your desk as you look into the camera, only sensing his presence when he leans over your shoulder and places his arm down on the desk. “are these the girls who weren’t doing shit?” he asks, mouth in your ear but the words loud enough for everyone to hear. your cheeks flame and you push him away from the desk, stuttering out an apology as you glare at hongjoong who’s looking at you from across the room.

embarrassment and all, though, it must’ve hit a nerve in them because when you checked back at the document a few hours later, after yelling and scolding hongjoong for a good thirty minutes, everything was completed.

❥ park seonghwa

you had told him to stay out of the camera. that you would stay in the living room with him but that he couldn’t make a sound or have his presence known.

and it’d been working until your teacher called on you to answer a question, his voice hard and commanding the way all of your classmates have grown used to. everyone had just thought the man hated you all, his blunt way of speaking and loud, booming tone scaring the shit out of all of you for the first few weeks of class.

you came to learn that’s just how he was, a severe case of tough love that some long-time professors just harbor after dealing with loudmouth college kids. but when seonghwa heard the man harshly call your name, his head looked up from his phone and he narrowed his eyes; he didn’t like someone talking to you like that.

“can you give us your thoughts since you’ve just been sitting there with a stupid look on your face.”

he isn’t able to see the small smirk on your face at the professor’s words, instead throwing his phone aside and poking your arm gently.

“who the fuck is he talking to like that?”

your eyes widen as you immediately mute your sound, pushing seonghwa back and shaking your head at him. “seonghwa, are you crazy!?” your laptop is turned away so your classmates and professor don’t see you and your boyfriend talking back and forth, the crazy overprotective man next to you saying he doesn’t care who it is, no one’s allowed to say shit like that to you.

“he doesn’t mean it in a bad way, he’s just like that!” but when seonghwa shakes his head and deems that’s completely unnecessary, you take your laptop and stomp off toward the bedroom. you ignore the call of seonghwa’s voice before you close the door, warning him through gritted your teeth he better not follow you.

when you turn your camera back on, your cheeks are warm and embarrassment floods through you at the smirk on your teacher’s lips and the curious looks of your classmates.

“your boyfriend’s not gonna beat me up, is he?”

❥ jeong yunho

you were listening to the professor’s lecture with your feet in yunho’s lap, the boy quietly doing his own studies as he listened to music through his headphones.

the video session was scheduled for an hour and a half, looking at the time in the corner to reveal only forty minutes have passed. you let out a sigh, resting your head on your hand as you do everything in power to pay attention to the professor’s monotone voice.

yunho looks up and sees the bored expression on your face, pausing his music but remaining nonchalant as he moves his gaze back to his textbook. but just as he hears you start to yawn, he moves his long finger to your foot and scratches up the bottom of your sock-covered skin.

and thank god your mic is muted because you jump and yelp at the ticklish feeling and your laptop falls over into the couch cushion, your squeaky “yunho!” followed by his deep chuckle making you smack him playfully as you adjust yourself again.

you notice a few of your classmates smirking and hope it has nothing to do with your little mishap, squinting at yunho as he continues to laugh at you. when the teacher announces it’s time for a class discussion, you go to move your feet but he grabs your ankle, a pout on his face as he promises not to do it again.

but you missed the way his pointer and middle finger were crossed behind his thigh, the mischievous boy waiting until you started talking to scratch his nail under the bottom of your foot.

“and i think that’s something really import-ANT…in this lesson,” you say, the way you jump making him snort. you kick him in the side before sitting up, apologizing to your professor before you attempt to continue your intellectual discussion.

❥ kang yeosang

you thought it was lucky that your class time matched up with yeosang’s practice time, a quiet peaceful hour and a half for you to sip your coffee and really pay attention to the lecture.

but since you were in your room, you didn’t hear the front door or the sound of shoes hitting the floor. you only became aware of your boyfriend at the same time as your whole class, your bedroom door pushing open and yeosang jumping to belly flop onto the bed directly behind you.

“hi, baby! shit, i am so sweaty, i can’t believe-“

“uh, yeosang-“ you try to say but the boy only takes a heavy breath and continues to talk, going on about how difficult the new choreography is and how if he doesn’t start working out hard, it’s gonna be the death of him. and you love that he’s telling you all of this, you really do, but you’re also not ignorant of the fact that your entire call has turned silent in amusement and fascination at yeosang’s cute rambling.

“why are you sitting over there, can’t you just lay with me so i can-“

“yeosang, please stop talking,” you beg him quietly, the panic in your voice causing him to look up; your cheeks are burning and you look about ready to burst out into awkward laughter, the boy’s face dropping when he sees about 25 boxes of random faces staring at him.

“oh-oh my god! oh my, god! i’m so sorry, i’m just gonna- why wouldn’t you tell me!” he frantically runs out of the room, your own hand covering your face because it’s not even like he gave you a chance.

“i’m sorry,” you say to your class, your pink cheeks causing your professor to smile and shake her head, carrying on with the lesson like you and your boyfriend aren’t gonna hide under the covers in embarrassment for the rest of the day over this.

❥ choi san

your teacher didn’t require sound during lectures but she liked to make sure everyone was up and awake for the eight a.m class, always asking you guys to leave your cameras on so she can see you’re “attentive and alert.”

and usually you didn’t mind but today san was fast asleep so you had your headphones in, your camera turned away from your bed and facing the bright window as you tried your hardest not to nod off right then and there.

you didn’t think you woke san when you snuck out from under his arm but you found that you were sadly mistaken, just twenty minutes into the lecture his whiny morning voice starting.

“baby….come back to bed,” he mumbled into the pillow, a smirk on your lips as you look over at him. his one eye peeks open and he sees you sitting at the desk in front of your laptop, wearing his shirt and a pair of shorts with knee high socks that makes him all too desperate and needy to have you back in bed with him.

you watch his eyes rake over you and a pout make its way on his face, holding his arm out as he whines out your name. “soon, san, i’m almost done,” you tell him, even though it’s a lie and you hope he’ll fall back asleep within the next few minutes

but he waits for all about five before he gets up, concentrating on writing notes down with the professor’s voice in your ear that you miss the way he shuffles toward you. it’s not until he wraps his arms around you from behind and buries his face in your neck that you realize he’s here, your eyes shooting to the camera and cheeks flushing before raising it to the ceiling.

“san! my whole class just saw that!” you squeal, the way he pulls your neck back to kiss your lips proving he’s completely unbothered by the fact; he just wants you back in the warm bed, who cares about school?

❥ song mingi

“guys, you have to be quiet!” your roommate tells the boys, “y/n’s on a video chat with her class and-”

mingi, in a burst of excitement to finally see you after being apart for a week, ignores the girl’s words and bursts right into your room. his deep, happy yelp of your name and excited waves causes you to snap your head back and smile immediately at him; your heart softens at the way he’s bouncing like a giant child.

you return a small wave before nodding toward the door, holding up your two palms and wiggling your fingers to indicate ten more minutes. but the boy just doesn’t get it, making his way over to you before he stops and sees a whole laptop of people staring at him.

he looks at you in surprise, like he wasn’t already warned that you were doing this, before jumping to the side and waiting politely in your bean bag chair.

you turn back around and have to fight the smiling desperate to make it’s way on your pink cheeks, ignoring the way your friend in the class starts private messaging you asking who the cute boy behind you was.

❥ jung wooyoung

“why’s your camera off, y/n?”

your eyes narrow at the obnoxiously familiar voice coming through your laptop speakers, shaking your head as you do your best not to curse him out.

given that your real class time is over two hours, your professor allows for a fifteen minute break where usually everyone either turns off their cameras to eat or has one big chaotic chat, usually led by no other than

“wooyoung, shut up,” you snap when you can’t take it anymore, his nonstop questioning and high pitched giggle piercing right through your eyes.

“why don’t you say it to my face?” he counters and you can just hear the smirk in his voice. you leave your computer and stomp out of your bedroom and down the hall, kicking open the door to see the boy himself sitting in front of his laptop with a shit eating grin on his face.

“we are never taking another class together again!”

❥ choi jongho

“any last minute questions?”

“oh, um yes!” you reluctantly speak up, hating to ask in the first place and especially now over this new type of video chat set up. “about the project, should we be using apa format or-”

“goodbye, baby, goodbye!”

your mouth drops open and heat immediately creeps on your face, jongho walking past you with headphones in as he sings and dances like there’s no one around. but there’s about thirty of you around, his singing piercing through the speakers of every single one of your classmates as they watch him shimmy and shake across the room.

he continues his singing until he closes the door to the bathroom and you don’t even think he noticed you sitting in your desk at the corner, an awkward laugh threatening to bubble out of your mouth as you try to regain your composure.

“i’m so sorry,” you blurt out, cheeks pink as you shake your head and try to ignore the giggles coming from your classmate when, even from the bathroom, they can hear jongho singing his heart out.

#ateez #ateez reactions #request

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skipppppy · 3 years

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I’m so fascinated by your she ra fan character! I’m trying to understand the storyline but it’s a little hard to find everything, and I was wondering if you would mind explaining it here?

Thank you very much! Her story is SUPER convuluted, I elaborated on it a bit on another ask about her relationship with Entrapta, but I’ll try to sum it up as cleanly as possible but a lot of different factors come into play so it still might be LOOONNGG. It’s also not a very happy story, unfortunately, but it would be helpful for me to get it all written down!

In terms of things that might be triggering, her backstory involves mention of a wide range of abuse. It won’t be explicit but I just want to be safe!

I’m actually gonna put most of it under the cut for the sake of anyone who follows me or any tags so they aren’t cursed with a mile long post on their timeline. I know the pain 😅

So here it is! I present A COMPREHENSIVE TIMELINE OF ALL THE BULLSHIT ARIA HAD TO PUT UP WITH!!!!

-For background context, she’s a Wingfolk, a species of Bird People native to Etheria who live in a kingdom built into a forest of giant trees named Ornithia. I could go on about them for hours but all you really need to know is that they have hollow bones to achieve flight (which is also the case for real life birds), which makes Aria’s body very light and frail. So she’s basically useless in physical combat which is why she never really defends herself. She was also a particularly weak flyer, which is why she doesn’t avoid a lot of situations by simply flying away.

-EXTRA BACKGROUND CONTEXT, Aria was born around the time the Horde landed on Etheria. Her father was a sorcerer at Mystacor, who had a reputation for ignoring ethics in the name of science. This all came to a head when a meteorite struck the surface of the planet; he rushed to the sight, stole it, studied it for a while, and after learning it had a powerful magic, decided to try a ritual in which he extracted the magic from the meteorite and fused it with his daughter’s soul. It took a few years for people to find out but when they did he was exiled for his actions, and Aria, still a child, was given to her mother.

-ONE MORE SMALL DETAIL: from about the age of 18/19 onward, she started having dreams about a mysterious figure made of blinding light who knew secrets about the universe and promised to find her one day so they could “finally be together again.” 3 guesses who THAT is lmao (hint: it’s Horde Prime)

-I won’t go into details about her childhood because we’d be here forever but the most important things you need to know are 1) Aria’s mother was a HORRIBLE parent and preferred to get blackout drunk rather than look after her children. 2) Aria had 4 younger brothers who, due to her mother’s negligence, she had to raise entirely by herself, which is why she feels responsible over others and has such a “nurturing” disposition, it was forced on her. 3) She took her brothers and ran away from Ornithia when she was 15, and built a home in a small woodland in the mountains of Dryl where she has lived ever since. 4) Throughout her childhood she befriended Princess Entrapta and the two were extremely close due to their isolated upbringings.

-When the BFS visited Dryl for the first time in Season 1, Aria was there acting as both a lab assistant and royal advisor to Entrapta, and joined the rebellion alongside her. Nothing crazy happened, but when Entrapta “died” Aria was beside herself with grief and ended up leaving the rebellion in order to go tend to Dryl, since it needed a ruler and as advisor it was her job to step up and take responsibility. Unlike the others, however, she refused to return to aid in the battle of Brightmoon, since she was kinda miffed at how the Princesses treated Entrapta (lookin’ at you, leash lady Perfuma) and was thoroughly pissed that they didn’t even TRY to go back for her, even if it was just to find her body and give her a dignified burial.

-Season 2 was when things truly went to shit. When the Horde came to claim Dryl, Aria resisted but was defeated pretty easily. When Glimmer and Bow came to scout out the situation, they saw her being hauled away and tried to save her but basically got caught in a stalemate where they couldn’t act because the Horde threatened to harm Entrapta if they acted. They told Aria to go with the Horde and promised that they would form a rescue party to save the both of them. But after they learned that Entrapta had joined the Horde by choice and had more important missions to deal with, rescuing her just..stopped being a priority. She wasn’t a rebel so they had no obligation to get her, so eventually they forgot about her entirely.

-Aria was kept as a prisoner for a while, but Entrapta found out pretty quickly what happened and went to find her. At that point Catra was growing frustrated with all the menial paperwork she had to do, and since she’d had experience being an advisor/secretary type, Entrapta basically proposed to Hordak that Aria act as his assistant in the same way she used to at Dryl. He accepted since it meant he would be spending less time running the Horde and more time building the portal. Aria was against the idea of helping him since she was still holding out hope that the rebels would come save her, but she was simply threatened with the classic Evil Horde punishments (torture, more torture, being locked in a cell for weeks without food or water, a tad more torture). So from mid-Season 2 to the end of Season 4, that was pretty much the position she was in. Being the Fright Zone’s resident desk jockey.

-Not much happened in that timespan, most of what occurred revolved around the portal incident and the aftermath. While Aria had been playing the part of Hordak’s pretty little secretary she was trying to find weak points in the Fright Zone’s security system so she could bust her and Entrapta out of there. Due to her and Hordak building the portal (and smooching lol) she’d been spending less and less time with Aria, which had been making her a little upset. She felt like someone she’d spent her entire life caring for was replacing her for something better, but her suspicions weren’t confirmed until she asked Entrapta about leaving together and she refused. That was the first small nudge towards a downward spiral. Then Catra returned with Adora and the Sword in hand and the Princesses came to stop the Portal. The rebels had come to save Adora and forgot about her. She was willing to forgive and join them, until they saw that she had been assisting the Horde, assumed she had betrayed them alongside Entrapta, and decided to leave her behind without giving her a chance to explain herself. That was the second, slightly stronger nudge that made her teeter over the edge of a breakdown. And then Catra told her that Entrapta had abandoned her to rejoin the rebels. While it was a lie, it was perfectly placed salt in the wound, and the straw that broke the camels back into her shifting allegiance and properly joining the Horde.

-Throughout Season 4 she had the same role as before, except this time she actually cared about her work, and had taken on the additional role of helping Hordak with his busted tech since Entrapta wasn’t around to do it. He had already come to rely on Aria for paperwork, but now she was helping him with his machines and they had a shared trauma over being “abandoned” by someone they cared deeply for. She was literally filling the void Entrapta left, and in a way they started to care for each other. Aria, being a hopeless romantic who had read about a trillion love stories about gentle protagonists who healed the evil monster men with their kindness, took to him like a moth to a flame and happily played the role of “the next best thing” against her better judgement. It wasn’t really a healthy relationship, but they did genuinely care for each other and found comfort in one another’s presence.

-It didn’t last, however. Catra was vaguely aware of the “thing” they had, and while she was indifferent for the most part, she was dealing with a downward spiral of her own, and she slowly became paranoid that Aria would distract him from completing their plans. In her poor, burnt out kitty cat frame of mind, the only way to deal with the situation was to get rid of her. So, deciding to kill 2 birds with one stone, she told Hordak that Aria had been jealous of his relationship with Entrapta, and SHE had been the one to send her to beast island. And Hordak believed her.

-I won’t go into detail about what happened after that, because it was VERY GRUESOME! We all saw how Hordak reacted when he found out what Catra had done in the original show. Now remember when I mentioned that Aria has hollow bones that made her incredibly frail and physically incapable of defending herself? Yeah. It was not pretty. Hordak wasn’t completely at fault, since he thought his anger was warranted, but by the time he’d learnt the truth and realised his mistake she was dead. In the space between the incident and learning what really happened he’d thrown her in the abandoned black garnet chamber with no food or water and basically left her to rot. He was EXTRA mad at Catra for pulling that with him, but he didn’t have time to grieve since he, Glimmer, Catra, and Aria’s lifeless corpse were beamed up into Horde Prime’s flagship.

-When Prime initially found her she was still dead. However, remember the healing magic that came from the mysterious meteorite that had now fused with her soul? Spoiler alert! It belonged to him. The meteorite was one of his most prized possessions, and the dreams Aria had been having were the magic’s attempts at trying to establish a connection with him across dimensions. (the meteorite was somewhat sentient. This is perfectly normal and well thought out writing I swear) And being reunited caused a huge surge of magical energy that resuscitated her, allowing Prime’s clones to give her some much needed medical help.

-After being pretty much comatose for 2 weeks Aria finally woke up, and was finally able to speak with Prime in person. When she found out that the “mysterious figure” from her dreams who had promised to find her was REAL and had just saved her life, she basically just latched onto him. She was, understandably, TRAUMATISED from the last 2 or so years of her life, so she was too scared to go anywhere else or trust anyone, so Prime didn’t even have to try to win her allegiance. He was also very happy to have his meteorite back, even if it now had a mortal body with skin and a face and a slew of emotional baggage. So she spends most of Season 5 being showered in love and affection by Prime and all her attendants, eventually being crowned Empress. While Prime was unequivocally evil and Aria was aware of that, he mostly sheltered her from what he was doing, in fear that her loyalty to him might falter. Maybe in a fun au she could’ve convinced him to leave Etheria alone so they could be together for longer, but alas, it was not to be.

-In the aftermath of the Heart being destroyed and Prime being killed, her downward spiral returned and shifted into OVERDRIVE. The people who had abandoned and neglected her took her one safe person away from her and they were being hailed as heroes for it. While she now knew that Entrapta had never abandoned her and was instead sent to beast island, seeing her get a happy ending with the man who had, to be quite blunt, physically abused and assaulted her, shattered any part of their friendship that might have been recoverable. She retreated into herself, taking over Horde Prime’s role as ruler over the Clones. She turned the Velvet Glove into their new home, trying to be civil with the other Princesses but eventually descended into a cold, bitter, vindictive Empress who ended up making terrible decisions as a cry for help.

-I’m still undecided on what to do with her after her fun villain arc, but I do know that in the aftermath she’d probably either step down from the throne so she could properly heal from her trauma, or work with her clones to fix up Prime’s flagship and get as far away from Etheria as possible and find peace in a new life away from everything that hurt her. I may also bring back Horde Prime from the dead through my sheer will to ignore canon so they can be together, since they are for all intents and purposes, soulmates. And I don’t think it would be very fair to let my poor hopeless romantic who just wants to be loved lose her handsome prince forever. I think it would be sexy if I committed necromancy I think.

ANYWAY...THAT WAS A HEFTY READ..SORRY IT WAS SO LONG, BUT THANK YOU FOR THE ASK!! I CAN COME BACK TO THIS FOR REFERENCE NOW

TLDR: babygirl has had it ROUGH

#spop oc #she ra oc #aria

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wildlittlefoxsworld · 4 years

Note

Hey can you do a the old guard imagine about Andy x reader. Where the reader is immortal but ihas a younger doppelgänger and they team finds out and reader has to explain her family bloodline and all that jazz any questions message me. Thanks love the two imagines on the old guard so far. Keep up the good work.

Gene Recurrence | The Old Guard | Andy x Fem!Reader

Author's note: This was a very interesting request. I got instantly an idea and I hope you will like it.

Warnings: light smut, light angst, angry!Joe, fluff

Words: 2.6 k +

Masterlist

Sequel "Mornings in the Carribbean"

***

Vacation. Summer. Caribbean sun. Colorful cocktails. Your family. Your hot girlfriend. What did you need more?

A thin, white cloth was draped about your lower half of the body and your eyes still closed, you savoured how the warm wind felt on your skin.

That days were rarely, when you were just laying lazy in bed and having nothing to worry about.

You looked to your left side and noticed that Andy was still sleeping. You stayed silent, because Andy had a light sleep and you wanted her to rest. Her left arm laid across your stomach and her right served herself as a pillow. The actual pillows were shoved of the bed by her moving in the sleep.

“So beautiful,” you mumbled quietly and carassed Andy's cheek with your fingertips. A small smile started to spread on her lips and you knew she heard you. Andy opened her green eyes and wouldn't you have loved her already, you would fall for her all over again.

“You always say the right words,” Andy praised and shifted closer to you. Rolling your body to the side you were laying face to face. She raised her hand slowly to stroke over your hair and stopped in your neck. The grip was firm like everything about her, she was always ready to fight, but here with you. Here she could be soft and tender, despite you loved her sharpness and precision. She was a warrior in every aspect of her life.

Andy went straight for what she wanted and needed. Now she wanted to kiss you passionately, dragging you back on the mattress, making clear that she was in charge and you loved every second of it. You loved Andy for her careness in a authority way, always having the upper hand and yet she gave you everything you craved for. She hold you tight in her arms, kissed you in a way that aroused both of you and touched your skin with right strength or tenderness to drive you crazy.

The both of you ended up panting with her on top of you laying between your legs. Her mouth trailed down your throat and she sucked slightly on your skin. You gasped when she found your sweet stop, grazing her teeth over the sensitive area.

“Please,” you whispered and Andy knew excatly what you wanted, but before she could start regale your upper body with her kisses, there was a knock on your door.

“We go to the beach. Do you want to join or are you busy?” Nicky's voice came hushed from the hallway and Andy let her head sink on your breasts.

“Hurry up before the best sun lounger are occupied,” Joe shouted laughing. You heard their footsteps dissapearing after you told them you would follow soon. Andy groaned but hieved her body up to stand up, but you grabbed her shoulders and pulled her back down. Andy quirkend an eyebrow and smirked when you shoved your hand under her shirt.

“Are you in the mood for a quick shower? Together? Then going to the beach?” Andy suggested and you were more than happy to let her picking you up.

The shower with Andy let to more than washing away the sweat from a hot night. You felt statisfied for the moment and Andy gave you a last lovingly kiss before leaving the bathroom.

You put on a simple white bikini and a yellow long skirt. With a bag over your shoulder and intertwined fingers with Andy, you went down to the beach near the hotel.

“Only fourty-five minutes, is that a new record, Nicky?” Joe mocked and the the both men laughed including Booker.

“We thought it would take at least two hours,” Booker chuckled and Andy rolled playfully her eyes while you slapped Booker on the back of the head lightly.

“Hey, and what about Joe?”

You looked over to the dark-haired man and he grinned triumphal. You shrugged and gave Joe the same treatment. Joe looked befuddled at you and wanted to say something. “Behave, my love,” Nicky warned him and gave him a meaningful look with a hint of a smile.

“Good Morning, Nicky,” you said warmhearted and kissed him on the cheek.

“Good morning, principessa,” he replied smiling and you sat down on your sun lounger next to Andy and Nicky.

“I get myself something to drink. Anyone wants something?” Booker asked in the round.

“An apple spritzer would be great,” you told him and he nodded. It would take him a few minutes to get your, Nicky's and his drinks.

Meanwhile Andy ordered your services in putting sun screen on her back.

When Booker came back his expression was bewildered and you frowned, because he nearly spilled the drinks. Nicky helped him while you were massaging Andy's shoulders.

“Are you alright?” you inquiried about his well-being and you got worried when he didn't stop starring at you.

“I saw a girl that looks excatly like you. First I thought it was you, but then I looked over to all of you and you were here. She wears a green jumpsuit and looks the same as you from hair to toe,” he explained in hurry and nearly chocked on his own tongue.

“I was sitting on my girlfriend's butt the whole time,” you commentend his words. “And there are many women here that has the same hair and skin color like me. Did you see her face from the front? Maybe she was just looking simliar to me.”

Booker searched for help by the others, but Joe just shrugged and Andy closed her eyes again, she wiggled underneath you to make you continuing with your massage.

“Are you sure you aren't just drunk?” Joe suggested and Booker shook his head furiously. For a second he seemed meditative, but then his head spinned around and he acted like he was searching for someone. “There she is. Still at the bar,” Booker proclaimed.

All of you stretched their necks and in this moment the woman turned around, it was like you were looking in a mirror.

“Yep, that's you, Y/N,” Nicky said deadpanned. In shock you couldn't move, couldn't tear away your eyes. She could be your twin, the same hair, eyes, face, heigh, body figure. But she looked younger. You had been close to your thirties when you first had died, she was probably in her early twenties.

Of course, your family watched you curiously and expecting an explanation maybe, but they weren't sure if you would have one.

Even Andy lifted her body up and studied the appearance of the young girl. “Interesting,” she mumbled and her head turned to you. But you were frozen in your position balancing on your shins. Andy observed you. It was clearly to her how shocked you must been, but something in your gaze got her perplexed. Your breathing increased and your hands were clenched to fists.

Andy rolled herself on her back underneath you and took your hands gently in hers. You got frightened for a second before you noticed it was only your beloved one.

“It's okay, darling. Why are you so tense? I can tell you aren't scared or atonished. This isn't new to you, right?” Andy asked carefully and you were taken aback. She knew you too well and rumbled you most of the time. Frustration grew inside you and let you groan loudly

“Fuck,” you cursed. Andy watched you worriedly and pulled you down on her lap. You scrunched your face in annoyance when she rubbed your back, trying to calm you down. Why did this happen now? It didn't happen in your whole immortal time and so you needn't to explain anything.

“She's your doppelgänger,” Joe murmered still confused.

“I know, Joe,” you said through gritted teeths.

“Tell me, Y/N,” Andy demanded and you sighed in defeat.

“Fine,” you agreed.

“Now I'm curious about it,” Joe exclaimed and folded his arms over his chest. Even Nicky showed interest, but he wasn't demanding like the others, he just wanted to understand.

“I descend from witches,” you began to speak and Nicky's widened in surprise and he exchanged looks with Joe.

“Witches? Like riding-a-broom-witches?” Booker asked shocked and laughed in disbelief. You rolled your eyes and huffed.

“So, you are a witch?” Nicky tried to encourage you to tell further.

“I was a witch. I lost my powers after I had died the first time. Seemed nature doesn't allow more than one gift. And I never flew on a broom.” Your last words were full of fury over Booker's mocking tone. You hated that people always had prejudices about witches, but what should you say, people were always scared about supernatural things.

“What powers did you have?” Nicky shared his thoughts and you were glad that he stayed objective.

“Nothing special. I used spells to change weather for a good harvest or that someone found love. I brewed potions for simple illnesses or headaches. A few could more, a few were more powerful.”

“What do you mean? More powerful?” Booker was alarmed and you saw that your story scared him.

“Some could read minds or manipulate minds, able to control time or bring people back from the death, but that was only told. None of my family members could do that. It was simple magic we practiced and even at my time as a human our magic faded slowly away. Many of acient books and journals got lost in a fire when my grandma was a child. Only the knowlegde of basic magic survived and not everyone of us practiced magic.”

You didn't want to look in someones eyes, you were ashamed that you never told them the truth and you were sure they wereü mad at you.

“So witches are real,” Joe determined and stroked his beard. You nodded slowly.

Andy hugged you and you buried your face in the crook of her neck. “You are doing great, babe, you finally told them. I know it's hard, but it's better,” Andy soothed you and her words and presence helped you to calm down.

“You knew the whole time she was a witch?” Booker snorted and shook his head. “Why didn't you tell us?”

“It wasn't my story to tell and she was never a threat for us. She isn't a witch and I don't think she lied,” Andy explained firmly and lose her arms from around you. Gratefully you smiled at her and she mimicked it.

“In 700 years you didn't think once to mention that you were a witch,” Joe scolded reproachful.

“Don't overstate it. That's her past, Joe. It died with her and it wasn't important in her new life. And what she said… it seemed like her family never causes any harm towards humans,” Nicky tried to calm Joe down. He was always to patient, he tried to understand my situation and private motives not say anything.

“I know she would never hurt us and you know I love her like a sister. But she could've told us. She told Andy,” responded still a little angry.

“Do you remember how fast she bonded with Andy and Quynh, it's naturally that she told the people she trusted the most. Do you remember how suspicious she was towards men, it took us a decade to gain her complete trust. And then her past didn't matter, he left her family behind.”

Joe sighed in defeat when Nicky convinced him.

“I'm sorry, Y/N,” Joe apologized, but you weren't mad and you had already forgiven him.

“That doesn't explain why you have a doppelgänger?” Booker remembered on the original topic and you nodded in agreement.

“A long time before my birth a powerful witch of my family wanted the witches to be stronger. My family weren't sure what she could really do, but she casted a spell that didn't end up like she wanted. It didn't make her or any of her sisters stronger. It only made the wisdom and knowledge surviving the centuries. The nature allowed us to be reborn, like an reincarnation. The soul came back to earth in a new life, but with the memories of her past lives. Not all memories, but the important ones to remember all the lessons the soul had learned.”

“You never told me that,” Andy mourned and you quirked an eyebrow.

“I did, but I only told you that I could be reborn. I didn't know that it's possible. I still have my soul, this woman isn't me, she can't remember anything from me or my past lives. But I can remember neither today, the memories faded over the centuries. I think the memories from past lives started to come back when I was sixteen or seventeen, but well… it's a long time ago.”

“That's an incredible story, Y/N, but it still doesn't explain why she is your doppelgänger. Is it possible that you can be reborn without your soul?” Joe considered and watched your doppelgänger, she was talking to few other women.

“The soul goes back to her origin one day, that's my grandma always told me. I could imagine it's only a gene recurrence. Something the nature couldn't fix, because I'm still alive. So the nature gave her or if there were more reincarnations; them a new soul.”

Andy listened attentive to your explanation and it was a lot to process. She knew that witches existed, a long time before she met you and she knew that their magic slowly disappered over the centuries. You were part of a family that originated powerful witches, but maybe the curse of reincarnations guranteed the long survive of the witches in your family. After you became part of this warrior family she never heard again of real witches, because with the witch trials in the medieval time the real witches went into hiding and maybe never showed up again, until today.

“Do you think she's a witch?” Andy asked you and you inclined your head. “I don't think so. If she would have powers, then she has two different eye colours or a piece of a different colour in one eye.”

“You have only one eye colour,” Booker mentioned unnecessarily.

“I know, it was gone after I lost my powers. Booker you saw her closer than we could have. Do you remember her eyes?”

“Only one colour,” he answered and you believed him.

“She could wear contact lenses,” Nicky considered and you shook your head. “It's rarely to have different eye colours. But for our peace of mind Booker could do a background check on her, if she's dangerous, we will find out.”

“I will do it, just for safety,” Booker agreed and took a sip from his drink.

Nicky smirked cynically. “And I thought we could have a uneventful week for once.”

“That's would be boring,” you responded sarcastically and you all laughed.

Booker found out that your descendant wasn't dangerous. You hadn't incommon much, besides your family name and appearance. She was born in the U.S., worked as a nurse and was married. Booker told you that your family emigrated in the eighteenth century from today's Germany in the U.S. and remained there until today.

You didn't care about the new informations. You only cared about your current family. Nicky and Joe, Booker, and of course Andy. You didn't regret being an immortal, you met the love of your life and you couldn't be happier.

“I was weird to see a person that looks exactly like you. Now I look at you and I can tell you aren't the same. You have an old burnt scar on your left hand and your muscles are defined. You are talented with the cross bow and your father's long sword. You always smile when you look at me and tell me how happy you are that you had met me. And I love you so much that I couldn't bear to lose you,” Andy whispered in your ear when she hugged you from behind in the middle of the night.

“I love you, too, Andromache.”

***

What do you think?

#the old guard #the old guard fanfic #the old guard x reader #andromache the scythian #andy x reader #andromache the scythian x reader #nicolo di genova #yusuf al kaysani #the old guard booker #sebastien le livre #joe x nicky #nicky x joe #yusuf x nicolo #andromache of scythia #andromache of scythia x reader

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creepy-spooghetti · 3 years

Text

A Hapless Endearment [Creepypasta x F. Reader]

Chapter 11 - Anonymous

_____

Jack opens the door, stepping aside to allow a pale girl with medium-length blonde hair into the small house. She's clad in slightly ripped jeans, a pair of sneakers, a maroon tank top, and a black jacket. In her hand is a plastic bag that looks to have been taken from some kind of store, and what resides inside isn't completely clear, although judging by the shape of the objects Y\n assumes it to be shoes. Her violet-grey eyes land on Jack, then shift over to Y\n, who remains leaning against the wall and watching the scene warily in front of her.

She nods in silent greeting before walking through the door frame and into the living room, being followed by yet another girl, this one much younger and, instead of gripping a bag, a brown, old-looking teddy bear is tightly clutched within her arms. Her eyes are a bright, piercing shade of green, her chocolate-brown hair cascades over her shoulders and down her back. She wears a multi-colored hoodie splashed with shades of pink, lemony yellow, blue, and purple, and the hood itself has cotton cat ears attached to the hem. She has on a pair of black leggings, a pink mini-skirt, and rose-colored tennis shoes.

Faint freckles are scattered along her cheeks and across the bridge of her nose, and her gaze travels from the floor and up to Y\n as she tilts her head shyly. There's a kid here, too? Y\n furrows her eyebrows and glances between the three people now standing ahead of her, two of which she's never seen before in her life. She assumes the teen to be who Jack called 'Wisteria', but who the younger one is she hasn't a clue. She never heard a kid being mentioned, so the news is a bit surprising to her.

That's when she takes notice of the blood slowly trickling down the side of her head, hidden previously by her long locks of hair, and dripping down onto her hoodie, forever staining the brightly-shaded piece of clothing with quite a large blotch of crimson. The child doesn't appear to be in any pain, but how would that be? If she had just been bashed in the head by some blunt object, how would she be able to ignore it? Come to think of it, how would she even be standing right now? Shouldn't she be knocked cold?

Y\n's heart rate increases from concern, and she's tempted to comment on it or even lunge forward, pull the girl toward her and get her away from the two teens standing in front of the doorway. They don't seem even remotely worried about it, either because they're the ones that gave her the damage, or they just haven't taken notice of it yet. "What is Sally doing here?" Jack questions, shoving his hands into the pocket of his black hoodie and taking up a casual-looking posture. He doesn't sound mad, just curious, and perhaps a little surprised.

Wisteria shrugs, wrapping a hand around her hair and slinging it across one of her shoulders. "Because she wanted to come."

"You couldn't have just left her with Ben or somethin'?" She shoots him a mildly annoyed expression.

"Are you stupid? That'd be a terrible idea."

"You've done it before."

"And that's a mistake I will never make, again." After a moment, Jack murmurs a half-hearted "okay, fine" in agreement before shutting the door and propping his back against its solid wooden surface. Wisteria briefly motions toward Y\n with a raised eyebrow. "This the girl?"

"I have a name," Y\n says, narrowing her eyes at the blonde and unable to stop glimpsing down at who she presumes is 'Sally', stomach churning with unanswered questions. She gets an impatient glance in return.

"I don't care," she responds, crossing her arms. Sensing a brewing disagreement, Jack interjects before it can go any farther.

"Yes, this is Y\n. And Y\n, this is Wisteria and Sally." The young brunette takes a small step forward, bringing her hand up and giving Y\n a timid wave as she clings tighter onto her stuffed animal.

"Hi..." Her voice is soft, so soft in fact that Y\n has to strain her ears just to hear and understand the words that leave her mouth. She offers the ghost of a smile in response, mostly one of concern for Sally's well-being. Who did that to her? Surely she didn't hit herself straight in the head, and even if she had, then she couldn't have made that big of an injury. She's just a kid, after all, no older than eight or nine, there's no way she could manage that kind of strength. Then again, there do seem to be some pretty...unusual people here. Is she one of them?

Wisteria stares her down as if studying her appearance, waiting for her to do something, silently judging her. Wisteria seems to be the only normal-looking person that Y\n has come across so far, save for the odd color of her eyes, though that can easily be overlooked. She'll still use it against her if she has to, though.

Y\n shuffles on her feet uncomfortably, meeting the slightly taller girl's gaze and refusing to break contact for fear of looking weak. She is not weak, and she doesn't want anyone to think that she is. Jack runs his fingers through his hair, standing to his full height once more, and steps toward Wisteria. "So, you brought the stuff?"

Without looking away from Y\n, she nods. "Yeah, I did." A barely-noticeable, sly smirk etches itself across her face as she uncrosses her arms. "Here. Catch." Before Y\n can even blink, the bag of shoes is being launched at her head, and she only just catches it before it can hit her in the eye and temporarily blind her. Huffing indignantly, she holds the plastic bag by its handle and places a hand on her hip, glaring at Wisteria and earning a haughty grin in return.

"Thanks." Her voice comes out in a sarcastic drawl, contemplating on throwing the bag back at her and giving her a taste of her own medicine. Instead, she focuses her attention on the child standing right beside Wisteria, then down to the large gash on her temple, unable to quell the curiosity about the unexplained wound and the worry for her safety. "What happened to your head, Sally?" She tries to keep her tone mild as she bends down a bit so she'll be closer to her height, as to not further intimidate her. Sally looks down nervously, stepping to the side until she's hidden partially by the taller girl's legs and the lower part of her torso.

"I...It's, uh..."

"None of your business," Wisteria snaps, suddenly becoming defensive and putting an arm in front of Sally protectively. Y\n takes a stride forward, boldness swarming inside of her chest.

"I'm not gonna stand aside and let some kid bleed to death while you're not doing anything about it."

"Alright, alright." Jack puts his arms out in front of him and steps between the two girls, facing Y\n with a peaceful tone to his voice. "Y\n, Sally isn't in danger."

Her eyes widen and she points at the green-eyed child mostly obscured by the larger frames of both Jack and Wisteria in exasperation. "Do you not see her head? Somebody clearly split it wide open!"

"Yes. Yes, they did." She presses her lips together and scowls at Jack, not understanding why he's acting so mellow about an eight-year-old kid being injured. "But that was a long time ago."

"So then why is it still bleeding?"

"Because it doesn't stop. It can't." Raising a skeptical and, distinctly confused eyebrow, she stares at him, waiting for him to continue the rest of his explanation. "Look... she isn't normal, not by a long shot. Not anymore."

"She doesn't need to know all of this, Jack," the blonde spits from behind him, though he only turns his head back to face her for a moment to say his reply.

"If she's going to be staying here, yes, she does." He shifts his attention back onto Y\n, ignoring the scoff of protest that erupts from behind him. "And what I mean by that, is... she's not human anymore. She's a ghost."

A ghost? He's talking about ghosts, of all things now? How crazy is everyone? She's never been a strong believer in ghosts or hauntings or anything like that but considering everything that's been happening to her as of late, it wouldn't be too much of a stretch to start believing that things like ghosts do exist. But to be a ghost...you'd have to die. Does this mean that Sally died? Come to think of it, that wound does look pretty fatal...

"But ghosts aren't real," she says quietly, mainly to reassure herself that things like what he says are only in movies, and books, and TV shows. But are they, really? There has to be some reason that Sally isn't hurt by that exceedingly large gash in her head. Could that be why? Because she's already dead?

"They are, Y\n. That's why she isn't in pain." He points down toward Sally. "Because she's not alive, anymore." Y\n stares at Jack incredulously, then over to Sally, trying to process the information in her head. A dead person walking around? Like a zombie? Except, one major difference between Sally and a zombie is that Sally isn't currently trying to eat her alive. At least she's a friendly ghost, right?

She blinks, finding herself not completely in-touch with her surroundings. Next Jack will be telling her that there are aliens from another world about to invade Earth and that they need some time-traveling machine to stop them. It wouldn't be a big surprise, at least not at this point. Okay, so ghosts are apparently real. Yeah, that makes sense.

Though she really can't understand how such an idea works, she figures that dwelling on the matter won't do her any good. Just go with it, right? It'll make it easier on herself if she doesn't think about how bizarre this whole situation is. She just has to keep her mind on more plausible explanations, but like what? She hasn't any other theories for everything that's been taking place lately, what more does she have to go off of? The best idea she has is that this is all one massive hallucination, but even that's a far stretch of her imagination at this point. It all feels too real to be imagined.

Wisteria scoffs, rolling her vivid periwinkle eyes and drawing Y\n out of her hysteria of scrambled thoughts. "See? She can't even handle the simple truth." She furrows her eyebrows at the shorter girl still standing on the other side of Jack. "I still think we just shoulda killed her—"

"Wisteria." Jack cuts her off, voice austere as he shifts around to better face her. "That wouldn't have been a smart move."

"And why not?" She places a hand on her hip audaciously. "She wouldn't be our problem." He sighs in reply, shaking his head in disagreement.

"You know why she's here. It's better for all of us this way." Y\n stares at the two with a look of mild disbelief—like, hello? They do know that she's still right here in front of them, yeah? She can tell that Jack is trying to at least be subtle, but Wisteria on the other hand just acts like she doesn't care at all. Which is likely the case. "Y\n," He looks back at her, "are you ready to go?"

"I don't want to go." She eyes Wisteria, backing up farther into the wall behind her. "I'm not living in some stranger's house." At least she's been acquainted with Jack prior to all of this, and she's been talking with him for the past little while so she feels the most comfortable with him. What if this 'Brian' person is as obnoxious and appalling as Jeff? Or even more so? She really doesn't want to deal with someone like that, much less stay with them.

"Brian isn't going to hurt you, he's one of the most mature people here." Jack tries to sound reassuring for the most part, though it hardly works. "And Wisteria won't do anything either, she's just taking you to him." Y\n crosses her arms in protest, choosing not to verbally respond and instead send a stink eye his way.

"Don't be afraid..." A soft voice erupts from below her, and she glances down to meet the green eyes of Sally, who had somehow walked closer to her without Y\n even realizing it. Her facial expression melts into one of compassion as she once again looks at the open gash still bleeding on her head. If the little girl trusts them, shouldn't she?

Absolutely not. To be fair though, if Sally really is a ghost then they couldn't hurt her, anyway, so she wouldn't have a reason to fear them. Can she really trust her when she says not to be afraid? She could be in on it all, for crying out loud. Although, maybe she should be a bit more compliant just to see what happens. Other than kidnapping her among some other, more mild things, they haven't hurt her. Jack is the only one that's really even communicated with her, and as much as she hates to admit it, he's been nothing but patient with her since she woke up here. He didn't even seem to hold anything against her at the fact that she kneed him in a place no boy wants to be hit.

Plus, he provided her with an explanation for everything that's been happening. No one else had done that. She brushes a strand of hair behind her ear and releases an inaudible sigh from in-between her lips before turning and strolling down the hallway, stopping once she gets into the room she originally woke up inside. The broken glass that had been previously in front of the doorway seems to have been cleaned up, and she's more than grateful. It would suck stepping on shattered glass, it's a wonder she was able to avoid it to start with. Sitting on the bed, she takes the pair of shoes and a couple of old-looking socks out of the plastic store-made bag before beginning to slide them over her feet.

She tries not to bump her ankle, though her attempts prove futile when the top of the sock constricts around it, making a bolt of pain shoot up her leg. "I hate that stupid dog..." she mutters, remembering the very recent sensation of a canine's teeth clamping down on her ankle and refusing to let go until his owner told him to. She rubs at the bandages, trying to give the inflicted area some kind of relief before pulling the shoes up and slipping them, too, on her feet. She ties the laces, inwardly rejoicing at the fact that the shoes aren't high-tops, otherwise, it would bring her even more pain.

From the living room, Y\n can hear faint talking from who she assumes to be Jack and Wisteria, one of the voices slightly hostile and the other calm and collected. Well, what now? Go with Wisteria, she guesses, although she really doesn't have another choice. It isn't like she can run away in the state that her foot is in—she would surely be caught before she made it ten feet if even that. Jack said that Brian, whoever that is, won't harm her. Is he telling the truth? Who even knows. He's lied before, how can she be so sure that he isn't doing it again?

She shifts her gaze up from her shoes to the brunette girl standing in the doorway, looking a little timid though offering an affable smile nonetheless. She bounces on her heels, teddy clutched to her chest, and speaks. "Hi..."

Y\n tilts her head curiously, sitting properly once again and staring at the young girl. "Hi..." Sally slowly makes her way inside the room, face displaying innocence and a friendly desire.

"There aren't many girls here," she says, eyes averting down to the floor shyly. "You'll be the fourth, if you stay..."

"Fourth, huh?" She folds her hands into her lap tentatively. "Who's the third?"

"That's Zero...but she isn't here right now. So it's just me, and Sissy...and you." That comment makes her eyebrows furrow in mild puzzlement.

"Wait, Wisteria's your...your sister?" Y\n can't see any resemblance between the two, not even their eyes are the same color. And their personalities definitely seem different, with one being brash and the other being quiet and timid. Then again, having just met them she can't be too harsh of a judge but first impressions are everything. Sally parts her lips a moment as if she's about to say something only to cut herself off. She twirls a strand of long, brown hair around her finger as she collects her thoughts while Y\n waits patiently.

"Well...no. Not really, but...she treats me like her little sister."

Makes sense, she thinks, She did seem pretty protective of her.

"You're staying, right?" She steps a little closer, biting her lip hopefully. "Bad people are after you. They're after all of us. This is the only place we're safe."

"Sally...I have a family to get back to. They need me. I...I don't think I can stay here, not—not for long, anyway." Her facial expression falls, and she dips her head forward in what Y\n recognizes as discouragement.

"Oh..."

"You can...come with me, if you want?" She can tell that Sally seems perfectly happy here, but it doesn't quite sit well with her that she's still in a place with multiple people that could have, and likely did, do very bad and illegal things before. "My grandparents would be happy to give you a place to stay."

Sally flashes her a look of mild disbelief, green eyes widening slightly before she shakes her head. "I'm not leaving. This is my home."

"Are you sure?" She nods in response.

"And...and I don't think you should leave, either. I think you'd like it here if you gave it a chance."

"Sally...I don't belong here." Her voice lowers as she speaks, looking down and into the young girl's wide eyes. "I have a family back home, important people that I need to go back to."

"We all had a family at some point." She lowers her gaze to the floor, her tone becoming sheepish. "But...that was a long time ago." Y\n tilts her head. She knew that the people living here had to have some kind of backstories, though she never gave it much thought. Just how tragic is everyone that lives here? What happened to them to turn them into these...sadistic-looking things that likely have a natural lust for blood? "And now all we have is each other. We're our own family."

Not sure what to say, Y\n shifts a little on the edge of the bed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and biting the inside of her cheek.

"The monster wants something from all of us. It wants you, too." She nibbles at her bottom lip. "If you stayed with us, you'd be safe. It can't get you here." Taking a small step forward, she avoids eye-contact shyly and squeezes the stuffed bear tighter to her chest. "And you could be part of our family."

Y\n parts her lips to respond, though before she gets a chance, Wisteria peeks her head through the door, eyes landing on Sally then over to the girl still sat on the bed currently conversing with her. She meets her mild glare, expression hardening at the intense look being thrown her way. "Sally, c'mon. We're leaving."

She glances behind toward the blonde standing in the doorframe, then back at Y\n, her face lighting up slightly as a friendly smile spreads across her cheeks. "Yeah! You're gonna meet Brian. Don't worry—he isn't so crabby once you get to know him."

"Yes, he is," Wisteria says, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow. Sally shakes her head, taking Y\n's hand somewhat hesitantly and beginning to drag her toward the door. Y\n complies reluctantly, walking slowly behind the small-framed brunette.

"Not to me! He's only like that to you cause you're annoying." She scoffs and turns, disappearing from sight and heading outside. Sally glimpses up at Y\n as they begin to stride down the hallway. "He's nice, don't worry. He's just wary around new people."

Sounds like this 'Brian' dude isn't going to be too easy to get along with. Not that she's intending to try and 'get along' with anyone here, though it would be in her best interest to not make the people residing in this area hate her. As far as she's heard, they're not aiming to cause her any harm, but better safe than sorry, right? The last thing she'd want is to make one of them mad, especially the one with a smile carved in his face and an intimidating knife in the pocket of his hoodie.

They soon step into the living room, Sally momentarily releasing her hold on Y\n's hand as she swiftly catches up with Wisteria, who is walking off the porch and glancing around, as if checking the surroundings for possible dangers. Y\n slows her pace when she gets in front of Jack, meeting his oozing, soulless pits attentively. "There are no more dogs, right?"

He curtly shakes his head. "Brian isn't big on dogs. Smile's the only one here." He shoves his hands into his pockets, noticing the look of disdain on her features and attempting to bring her a sense of reassurance. "I'll be over in a couple of days to check on your bite. Until then, medicate and dress it each night before you go to bed. He should have plenty of resources to work with."

"That's comforting," she mutters, briefly averting her eyes down to her bandaged ankle, partly hidden by her shoes but still in clear sight if one were to look closely enough.

"I know you don't want to be here. I get it. But if you want your grandparents to be safe, you'll have to stay put, or get out and get them killed and possibly yourself, too." His voice has a solemn sound to it, his deep tone contributing to the daunting factor.

"Y\n, come one!" Sally calls from outside, drawing Y\n's attention and making her release a defeated huff.

"I'll see you, I guess," she says quietly, gaze falling to the ground before following the two girls, Sally taking hold of her hand once again when she steps onto the ground. The very same ground that she had run across just an hour prior in a rushed attempt to escape, and could have succeeded had it not been for Jeff and his stupid dog. Merely thinking about the series of unfortunate events, she's unable to stop from glancing down at the bandaged area in which Smile chomped down upon in order to catch and bring her back here, where exactly 'here' is, she still hasn't figured out. In the middle of a forest, obviously, but in the middle of what forest? Where is she at? What state, what area is she in?

Wisteria takes a sharp turn left, beginning to stroll in-between the tall trees, some skinny and some quite large, and Sally follows suit, dragging behind a nervous and mildly resistant Y\n by her hand. After a moment, she hears a soft click from the house, signifying that Jack closed the door and is likely in the process of forgetting about her and her miserable situation.

Figures. "So...do you not like dogs?" The question takes Y\n a little off-guard, and she meets the curious eyes of the curly-haired girl walking in front of her, still clinging to her hand gently.

"Um...well, I never really minded them, but...that was before one of them John Cena'd me earlier so now, I'm not so sure." She shrugs, and Sally grows a knowing look on her face.

"Are you talking about Smile?"

"Yes. Yes, I'm talking about Smile." She inwardly winces as her left foot lands inside of a shallow hole, stumbling slightly and having to take a moment to gather her bearings. She hopes that they don't have to walk too much farther before they come upon Brian's house, not that she's looking forward to meeting another freak, but because if she has to stand on her leg all day then it's going to be throbbing very badly.

"Smile's usually a really sweet dog. He may just not like you."

"Yeah, cause his owner is a huge jerk."

"You mean Jeff? Yeah, he's kinda mean."

What a shocker.

"A couple days ago he replaced the sugar with salt and it tasted terrible on my Rice Krispies." She makes a moderately disgusted face, scrunching up her nose and reliving the memory. Y\n furrows her eyebrows.

"Did he?"

"Yeah. Wisteria made him leave and threw my Barbie doll at his head..." The image of Jeff having some kid's Barbie being yeeted at his face and hitting him in the eye or some other important area almost has her smiling bitterly, eyes shifting down to her ankle once more and reminding her how much pain he just recently caused her, unnecessarily.

"What was...Jeff, doing at your house?"

"He was over to return something that he borrowed before," Wisteria suddenly speaks from ahead of them, not looking back and continuing to walk through the expansion of woods. "There's no way I'd allow him to come otherwise. And for the record, that Barbie doll was a piece of trash anyway. I was just putting it in the garbage where it belonged."

Y\n snorts quietly at that comment, not expecting the sudden insult toward someone who isn't even currently present though definitely not disagreeing. Through her brief encounter with the blue-eyed male, he did not seem like a favorable person by any standards, and as much as she'd hate to admit it, he is frightening and she wouldn't want to cross him. He's a big dude and there's no way she'd stand a chance against him, especially not with her leg the way it is.

"Well...we're here." Y\n looks up and sees yet another house, this one also shrouded with plants and vines likely to obscure its appearance from anyone who may stumble across it, assuming they actually didn't get caught by the psychopaths that live here and made it out alive, oblivious to their existence. It isn't very big, the paint is chipped and faded, and there's a barbed-wire fence surrounding the outside of it.

Sally grins up at Y\n excitedly. "Welcome to Brian's house!"

#Creepypasta #creepypasta x female reader #y\n l\n #sally willliams #hoody #brian thomas #wisteria everest #creepypasta oc #eyeless jack #creepypasta fanfic #x reader fanfic #jeff the killer

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