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spacedikut · 5 years ago

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“i want to love someone and be loved” ; spencer reid - part 2

pairing: spencer reid (criminal minds) x f!reader

summary: spencer decides it’s time to tell you, but he needs some help. 3887 words. part 1

a/n: THIS is the longest fic ive ever written but im actually kinda proud of how it turned out? i hope this is a good sequel :)

Spencer chickens out of telling you the next day.

He avoids you all weekend, actually. You resisted texting him the day after Rossi’s because you assumed he’d be busy – with his big plan involving a girl that isn’t you. You’re not bitter – but Sunday comes around and you message him not long after you wake up and six hours later there’s no response.

Twelve hours later - there’s no response.

Monday, you don’t have time to say hello to anyone – there’s a case waiting for you, somewhere in Florida.

Reid avoids your eyes. His body language tells you something is wrong, so you assume whoever he confessed to didn’t reciprocate (they’re insane) and he’s dealing with it. So you don’t press.

Spencer pretends to sleep the entire jet ride. He’s avoiding everyone, not just you.

He spent the whole weekend beating himself up. He drove to your apartment on Saturday, sat outside for so long a neighbour knocked on his window and asked if he was lost, but couldn’t bring himself to step foot out of his car.

So he locked himself in his room, away from you and your loveliness and away from his phone because he knew you texted him and he knew you’d send some soft message about being there for him if he needs anything and he didn’t need to be reminded of how beautiful and out of reach you are.

Derek seemed to be waiting for him Monday morning, arms crossed as he held a cup of coffee. It was weird seeing him in before Spencer.

“How’d it go?” He immediately asked.

“How’d what go?” Spencer mumbles, flinging his bag on the floor by his desk. He slumps in his seat.

Derek raises a dark eyebrow, “You know what, pretty boy. You had a big thing? Big plan?”

“Didn’t work out.”

It doesn’t take a profiler to realise Spencer is very clearly saying leave me alone. Leave it alone.

Derek isn’t one to leave it alone. Especially when it comes to Spencer.

He sighs and moves a little closer to Spencer’s desk, just in case someone overhears them.

“What happened?”

“That’s exactly it,” Spencer slams open a file, “Nothing happened.”

“And why did nothing happen?”

“Because I’m an idiot that can’t even tell a girl how I feel.”

“Whoa- hey!”

Derek spins Spencer’s chair so they’re face to face. Derek takes one look in Spencer’s eyes and knows what’s going on – he got too into his head and backed out at the last minute.

“You’re not an idiot. Why didn’t you do it?”

Spencer shrugs, “I got to her apartment. I had flowers, too. I don’t know.”

Derek’s evidently concerned – Spencer’s beaten up over this, over whoever this girl is, and he deserves the chance to experience love. Spencer deserves a lot more than he himself thinks he does.

“You seemed really excited, man. You can still do it. Just cause you try once and it doesn’t work out doesn’t mean you can’t ever try again.”

Spencer stares off into the distance, accidentally ignoring Derek as his thoughts slip out of his mouth, “Yeah, it probably wouldn’t have worked anyway – I was stupid to think I could get someone like her.”

“Hey, no.” Derek nudges Spencer’s shoulder so he looks at him again, “Don’t talk like that. You’re one hell of a guy, Reid. All you gotta do is get that confidence that you had Friday night back, and you’re all set. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

Spencer gives a feeble nod. Derek moves back to his desk, knowing he isn’t convinced, but he isn’t done yet.

+++

Later, in Florida, Spencer’s making a coffee in the precinct’s kitchen after waiting twenty minutes for you to leave. Luck’s on his side, for once, and you’ve been working non-stop with Prentiss going crime scene to crime scene so he hasn’t had to actively avoid you. You smile at him every chance you get, though, and it distracts him.

Someone clears their throat behind him. It’s Penelope, whom Spencer didn’t realise was invited on this case.

She looks guilty. Spencer recognises that face; the face she has when she’s done something she shouldn’t have or knows something she isn’t really supposed to. Given current circumstances, Spencer bets it’s the latter reason.

“Morgan told me something he shouldn’t have.”

Bingo.

He leans against the kitchen counter, stirring his coffee absentmindedly.

“What did he tell you?” He asks, feigning tranquillity. Inside he’s screaming non-stop.

She’s got her hands clasped together in front of her, almost innocently, and fiddles with her fingers, “He told me you needed assistance in the love department.” Before he can object, she continues, “And I am willing to do anything if it means our resident weirdo-slash-genius falls in love and gets to experience some much needed cuteness.”

There’s no point in lying to her. There’s also no point in being mad that Morgan told her about his situation – they’re kind of a package deal. And, who knows, Garcia might be able to help.

“So…” She sways, trying (and failing) to appear nonchalant, “Who’s the lucky lady?”

Spencer shuffles on the spot, scuffing his shoes against the floor. He debates whether he should tell her, since, you know, you’re in the next room over, but Spencer worries that Garcia is so good at her job she’d somehow find out through hacking Spencer’s phone, or maybe somehow hacking his dreams. His subconscious. He’s terrified of Garcia and her abilities.

“You can tell me.” She insists, “I’m much better at keeping secrets than Morgan.”

Spencer turns away from her, she steps closer, and he mumbles your name.

“What?”

“Y/N.”

“WHAT?!”

Spencer spins, hands coming up to tell Garcia to shut up and Garcia immediately covers her mouth in both shock and hopefully so she doesn’t shout again.

“Since when?!” She screeches. “How could I not have known?! Oh God, almighty Doctor Reid, I feel like I’ve failed you by not realising earlier.”

Her enthusiasm makes him smile, for the first time in far too long. Garcia has that power – this innate skill to comfort those around her and make them feel special, make them smile when the world feels like its collapsing.

“Let me help!” She requests.

Spencer’s clearly hesitant. He knows it’s a bad idea.

“Please!” She begs, “I just- I have so many ideas of how you can go about this. Let me brainstorm, get back to you, and if I’m too over-the-top you can tell me no and we’ll pretend it never happened!”

He takes a deep breath. Yes, Garcia is the definition of over-the-top, but that’s one of his favourite things about her. It’s your favourite thing, too. And he did tell Morgan he had big plans. Anything involving Garcia is a big plan with big payoff.

“This is between us.”

“I’ll take it to the grave. Unless you realise how amazing my ideas are and use one to tell Y/N how you feel and then years later I get to commend myself during my maid of honour speech at your wedding.”

She looks ecstatic, hands now together under her jaw as her eyes twinkle. Spencer can’t help but laugh at her eagerness.

+++

The next day, the team returns to Quantico after a semi-successful case. The general mood is good and Morgan invites everyone out for drinks – Spencer declines, but you have your first full conversation since last Friday.

“C’mon, Spence,” Your head rests against the jet seat and you blink sleepily at him, “I feel like I haven’t spoken to you for years!”

Spencer gives you a small smile, “I promised my mom I’d call her tonight. Sorry, Y/N.”

You nod in understanding, “Will you tell her I say hi?”

“Of course. She loves you.”

You grin at eachother, immediately lost in your own world. You’ve missed him more than you realised, and you have no idea what’s going through his head, but you’re happy that you’ve had this – a Spencer Reid smile that makes you feel at home and on top of the world simultaneously.

Spencer has to tear his eyes away before he blurts something stupid, like she’s not the only one that loves you.

+++

“Spencer!” Garcia greets, Cheshire cat grin on her face. “I need to see you in my dungeon, please. Immediately.”

Spencer drops the file he’s holding. Unfortunately, Penelope’s request caught the attention of the whole team.

“What business do you have in the villain’s lair, Reid?” Derek asks. You’ve looked up from your computer, Emily smirking and leaning back in her chair in expectation.

“Uh…”

“Important nerd business. Go away.” Garcia says, eyes narrow as she tugs Spencer’s hand. He’s whisked away from any further questioning, leaving the befuddled team behind.

He isn’t sure what to expect when he stumbles into Penelope’s second home, but the display in front of him explains why he overheard a conversation about missing evidence boards earlier. Penelope’s obviously been using the new printer in her cave to her advantage – there’s at least twenty different pictures printed out on one board titled “date ideas”, then the board on the right has a picture of Spencer and you in the centre with a perfectly drawn heart around it. Under and around that is a mixture of love quotes, including song lyrics and quotes directly from romantic movies. He notices “The Parliament of Fowls” on there – Garcia remembers that he mentioned it’s considered the first Valentines poem?

“Whoa,” Is all he can say.

“I know it’s a little intense,” Garcia squirms, “But! I started scrolling through Pinterest and couldn’t stop. I don’t know what came over me, maybe some type of love deity, but I started thinking about you and Y/N in a classic love film in, like, black and white and I…”

She’s out of breath from animatedly explaining.

Spencer laughs through his nose, almost a scoff, but he’s impressed. He shouldn’t have expected anything else from the Penelope Garcia.

As Spencer wanders towards the first board, Garcia follows him like a shadow, “My personal favourite is-“ She points to a picture of chocolate fondue with faceless people in very little clothing, “-this one.”

Spencer awkwardly clears his throat when he begins to think of you and him like that.

“A little much for your declaration of love, though, I get it,” Garcia nods.

He scans the board – heart speeding up when he moves from idea to idea and picturing you and him in each one. He can’t help but think no, that one would be good for our anniversary – ah, she’d love to do that one for her birthday.

“What’re you thinking?” Garcia asks quietly. She knows his brain is whirring like her computer drive, so she approaches him gently.

“This one.” He says. “Where should we do it?”

Garcia grins behind him. The one he’s referring to shows a dinner table set up outside, brown wooded table with white wooden chairs opposite eachother. There’s flowers at the centre, a bottle of wine already poured in each glass in front of a basket of cookies, and the area around is shrouded by shrubbery, fairy lights hanging delicately from every-which-way.

It’s perfect. You love fairy lights, Spencer loves cookies, and the set-up looks private enough for Spencer to feel confident when he empties his heart and soul to you.

“The roof.” Garcia says wistfully.

“We have access to that?”

“Yes.” They both know they don’t. “Leave it to me. Oh… one more thing.” She adds, hesitantly, “Can Morgan help? I’m a lot of things, including emotionally strong and your love guru, but physically I’m gonna need some assistance.”

Spencer doesn’t even need to agree – Morgan’s gonna involve himself no matter what.

+++

Five o’clock is quickly approaching and you’re slumped over your desk, lost in your work. You need to be lost in it, because ever since Garcia released Spencer from her office right after lunch he’s been sneaking glances at you (he’s not sneaky) and has made several attempts to approach you but decided against it, sharply turning and pretending he meant to go another way instead.

You are beyond confused. You assume it’s to do with the girl he’s been trying to get over – you hope he’s been trying to build the confidence to tell you exactly what happened and maybe, you really hope, he’ll invite you over for the weekend so you can slip back into your old routine.

“Psst.”

You assume they’re not trying to get your attention, so you don’t move.

“Psst!”

You still don’t move.

“Y/N!”

Your head snaps up to Spencer leaning over the divider between your desks. He looks alarmed – which is odd, given he’s the one who called you – and he opens and closes his mouth a few times before he finally speaks.

“Are you busy tonight?” He sits back and, if he wasn’t so goddamn tall, all you’d be able to see would be his eyes. His added height means you can see his eyes and his nose. You wanna kiss it.

You smile – this is an olive branch, “I am completely available for whatever it is you might need.”

You sound incredibly eager, which you are. You miss him.

His cheeks move upwards, a smile, “Can I talk to you, later, on the roof? Uh-“ He clears his throat, “-I need to tell you something.”

You raise an eyebrow, “You’re not gonna push me off, right?”

“No,” He laughs.

“Promise me.”

Now he guffaws, “I would never, Y/N!”

“Promise me, Reid!”

“Alright, alright! I promise!” He’s jokingly raising his hands in a form of surrender.

You give him another smile and turn back to your work. You feel at ease, now, thinking he’s finally gonna tell you what happened on the weekend – finally you’ll be able to help him and go back to normal.

Spencer, on the other hand, is the exact opposite of ease. He’s about to pour his heart out to you.

He takes a deep breath and looks back to his computer, which is open on a tab titled “How to Tell Someone You Like Them.”

Step 3: Be Confident.

Spencer opens a new tab and searches, “How to be confident.”

+++

Garcia hacks into Spencer’s computer to open a document and type that the roof is ready. She wishes him luck, tells him she loves him, and calls dibs on being the godmother of your future children. As if she doesn’t have enough godchildren as it is.

He clears his throat and your head snaps towards him. You’ve been done for a while, playing Tetris on your phone, waiting for Spencer to take you to the roof where he swears he won’t kill you – you’re not entirely convinced.

“Um-“ He scratches his neck, “You ready to go?”

You nod and give him a weak smile in hopes it gives him some type of reassurance.

“Whatever happened, it’s okay, Spence.”

All he does is nod in return, gathering his coat and bag. He doesn’t really register what you say, or he would’ve been very confused.

You follow him up to the roof. The elevator ride is silent and Spencer is jittery; his hands twitch and tap against his legs, he’s bouncing on his toes and he keeps looking at you through the corner of his eye. You’ve taken several deep breaths to calm your racing heart – you hate heights, and this is the closest you’ve been to Spencer in a week. This will be the longest conversation you’ve had with him in a week, too.

The second the doors open, Spencer leaps in front of you.

“Wait!”

You jump back in surprise, “What? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Completely fine. Just… when we get there, let me explain first, okay? Before you say anything.” He’s pleading, as if you’ve already told him no. You look at him with furrowed brows and mumble an ‘okay’.

You’re visibly confused as you trek up the flight of stairs to the roof. Spencer pushes open the fire door and the first thing you notice is how bright the roof is – you always assumed it’d be dark, little light, especially at night like this.

Wait.

There’s fairy lights… everywhere. You’re pretty sure this isn’t the norm for the FBI roof.

Spencer is equally as awed at what he sees before him - it’s exactly the photo he saw in Garcia’s cave brought to life, but he’s too distracted by you to fully appreciate it. You look like a child on Christmas; eyes wide, pupils blown, mouth slightly agape. You’re gorgeous.

“What…is this, Spence?” You wonder, noticing the set table, fingers grazing the roses that sit in a vase in the middle. They’re fresh and smell wonderful.

He stands a little behind you, fiddling with his hands, and clears his throat, “Would you like to take a seat?”

You do. When he finally sits, he pours you a glass of wine and you immediately take an anxious sip. Although Rossi is a big fan of wine, you rarely take interest in it only when Spencer’s involved. You’ve come to associate wine with him – a smile peeks out from your glass as you stare at the man opposite you.

“I need to get something off my chest. But there’s cookies, if you want one,” He picks one up from his plate, breaking it in half and giving it to you. He’s stalling, but you seem to take the bait and bite into it.

“Are these from the bakery two blocks away?”

“Yeah,” He replies, but he isn’t really paying attention. He doesn’t know where to begin.

You wait patiently for him to open up. You’re still unsure of what to make of all of this – the beautiful setting, the wine, the flowers, the lights. God, the lights are dazzling in the Virginia night sky. You need context, and you need it now.

“Spence-“

“Listen.”

“Oh.”

“Sorry, I just…” He trails off, “I need to say what I need to say before I back out again.”

You fold your hands in your lap. You’re ready for whatever’s to come.

“Do you know how long we’ve known eachother?” He asks. His head tilts like a puppy.

“Nearly five years. Our friendaversary is coming up, you know.”

You realise, then, that this must be a celebration for that – that explains the… typically romantic setting. Before you can open your mouth to ask if that what’s this is, Spencer speaks.

“Four years, three-hundred and sixty days. That’s how long we’ve known eachother.”

“If we were dating, we would’ve been my longest relationship the second we passed a year.”

You don’t know why you said it, but it flusters him. He has to pause to take a breath and collect his thoughts.

“I’ve been in love with you for four years and three hundred and fifty-eight days, Y/N.”

It’s silent as you process and he figures out how to continue.

“I knew you were special when you were introduced to us. Hotch already had such a soft spot for you, and you had this way about you that made us all fall in love instantly. I remember Garcia did a background check the second she found out your name and she said you remind her of me and I… that freaked me out, to be honest. I thought you’d try to replace me.” He huffs a laugh, but can’t bring himself to look you in the eye, “I realised I was in love with you when you drunkenly defended me. Do you remember that?” His eyes flicker to yours for half a second – you’re wide-eyed, “You’d known me for two days at that point, but we’d already done a case together so we were celebrating. And these guys at the bar were whispering about me, acting like I couldn’t hear them, and the second you realised what was happening you stood up, stormed towards them and gave them a piece of your mind. It was incredible.

“You barely knew me, at least personally, but you thought so highly of me you scolded a group of drunk bodybuilders without a second thought. You made them apologise – it was hysterical watching someone half their size force them into submission like that – and when you were done you asked if I wanted to leave and go get ice cream. We couldn’t, cause you vomited on the way there, but I knew in that moment I loved you and I feel so hard, so quickly, I didn’t know what to do. And you never… you never indicated you thought of me as anything other than a friend so I didn’t try. Then you dated Greg who, in my opinion, sucked on his best days, and you encouraged me to date Abigail and I…”

He’s run out of breath and of things to say.

“I just love you, Y/N. I’m in love with you.” He adds, “I hope that’s okay.”

He finally looks at you, then. You’re just staring and he panics when he can’t make out what you’re feeling. He’s always been able to read you, you’ve always hated the saying that eyes are the windows to the soul because your eyes are always your tell, but now they’re… glassy.

You’re crying.

“Spencer…” You gasp, throat tight.

“It’s okay.” Spencer gives a tight-lipped smile. He knows what’s coming. He should’ve expected it. He has been expecting it.

“I love you too, Spence.”

Spencer chokes on air. He takes a gulp of wine.

You give him a teary smile in disbelief, “I’ve always loved you, Spence. I thought you knew that – I thought that big brain of yours knew exactly how I felt and… you didn’t do anything about it so I thought you didn’t feel the same. Spencer…”

He slowly moves a hand to place it palm-up on the table. Immediately you place your hand in his, your grip tight as you lovingly stare at him. This feels unreal.

“I’m in love with you too, you idiot.” You half laugh, half cry, “If you’ve really loved me this long, we’ve wasted so much time! God, we’re both idiots.”

Spencer’s crying too, now, and he starts laughing with you.

You’re two idiots in love, sitting opposite eachother on the roof of your place of work in a dream-like surrounding filled with fairy lights and flowers, and you could’ve been doing this for years.

Spencer sniffles, looking at you through his wet eyelashes, “Would you like to be my girlfriend?”

“If I say yes, will I get more dates like this?” You tease.

“Well, Garcia has a whole evidence board of date ideas she stole from Pinterest. We have enough ideas to last a lifetime.” He giggles.

“Penny was in on this?!”

Spencer gives a heh, “This is all thanks to her, so yeah.”

“She’s always had our backs.”

“She’s also now going to be convinced she’s cupid.”

You laugh again, and can’t help yourself when you lean across the table, still gripping Spencer’s hand, and letting your lips fall on his. Spencer leans into you, lips moving against yours as you both try to suppress grins.

You pull back slightly, Spencer’s lips following you, and whisper, “I would love to be your girlfriend.”

He kisses you again. And again. And again, just cause he can.

Big plan, big payoff. You’re worth every little stress and more.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #mine #garcia is watching everything through the security cameras btw #you think she'd do all this and NOT watch her hard work flourish?#think AGAIN

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timextoxhajima · 5 years ago

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HOSTIS, Chapter V: Monitum, Warning

BONUS TRACK: APARTMENT - BOBI ANDONOV

Previous Chapter (IV: Vetiti Fructus In)

Member: Lee Hyunjae (tbz)

Genre (by chapter): angsty ass hate smut

Category: Short Novel/Long Series

A/N: BIG HOLY WATER TIME I’M SERIOUS THIS CHAPTER IS SO LONG AND IT’S ALL SMUT

“apologise and i’ll consider playing nice.”

“oh, you’re damn right i wished it was my mom.”

“you’re despicable.”

“was that a joke? because i think it would’ve been funnier if i was a mirror,” you scoff ridiculously loudly, almost spitting in his face while you said it, hand already pulling the door to slam shut in his face.

"fuck off."

but he stops the door in its tracks, and abruptly pushes himself through the entrance. the taste of wine that lingered on your tongue ages into disgust and you fold your arms across your chest while he closes the gap. his eyes loom over yours and his hand flies up to your throat, pushing you backwards and nearly crashing you into a wall.

your palms reach out by your hips to cushion the impact, and the dark lighting of the hallway highlights the shimmer of hatred and detest in his eyes.

temptation draws a smirk up your lips, but he only solidifies his grip around your neck without applying any more pressure. the meticulous calculation of how much force he should have around your neck slaps you with a reminder that he was a doctor too, and he knew exactly how much to let you breathe so you wouldn't pass out.

you find yourself gripping onto his forearm and wrist, pants and heavy breaths puffing out of your nostrils without cleaning the grin of satisfaction off your face.

"i knew you you were daring, but i didn't think you were one to truly stoop so low."

despise and malice radiated off him in waves, and you were lapping it up like it was water; like it was essential.

"you’re not that much of a saint either, lee hyunjae."

air gets sucked into your chest as he peels you off the wall and walks you backwards, the light of the kitchen slowly falling upon the features of his oh-so-butthurt face.

"you want to play petty?" one of his brows twitch and raise obnoxiously. your lower back hits the edge of the kitchen island sitting right under the lamp, and the same strength that was pulling out all his veins and forearm muscles was also angling your spine backwards.

"we'll play petty."

shivers of failed attempts of effort to remain upright run through your body, and your shoulder blades hit the surface of the kitchen table.

his right hand never leaves your throat, but his left reaches for the one thing you already knew he was going to take. nonetheless, it still sparked a furious flame inside you.

"don't you fucking dare--"

"or what?" he slides his tongue across his bottom lip and bites down on it. the bottle of wine gets lifted into the air just inches above your throat where his hand was, and he tilts it.

"what the hell are you-- motherfucker!" the expensive fluid starts to rain all over your neck, and he doesn't stop there. once he realised that there was enough left in it for him to play with, he runs the bottle and the rest of its contents down the length of your body.

your clothes drink up the blood-red beverage and the material starts to cling to your skin, the feeling of wet cotton against your body starts to make you writhe and cringe under him.

"that was fucking good wine you just wasted, asshole."

the base of the bottle hits the surface of a table with a sharp sound, and he leans over you menacingly. the sweet smell of the wine starts intoxicating the both of you, and your chin starts to tilt up and pull away from under his grasp when his face comes dangerously near to yours.

"then i guess it's a good thing that i'll be tasting it."

a cry of protest rolls out between your parted lips when he leans into the side of your face, his breath becoming heavier with every passing moment. your chin starts to dart around in the air, but it involuntarily stops and replaces the aggressive physical protest with complete stillness.

his lips rested on your neck where the wine first hit, and he starts sucking and licking your skin like he was having ice cream.

thoughts against your will start to flood your head as you squeezed your eyes shut, and your nails dig into his skin of his forearm that was still holding you down.

your body reacts in a way you don't ever want it to, not in front of him, and it was almost like it hated you.

the tremors that were rippling throughout your torso from the contact of his lips and tongue on your neck was enough for the nerves in his fingers to pick up, and you huff like you just ran a marathon when he finally stops violating the space under your ear.

your vision focuses on the reflection of yourself in the toaster directly opposite you, the rampant thumping in your head combined with the smell of wine in the air was making you lose your grip on reality.

like watching a horror movie, you observe his face dipping low enough to trace your line of vision, and his eyes lock with yours in the reflection of the toaster. his fingers around your neck sends your face into an ugly mess of emotion, and he digs his fingers into your cheek to yank your attention back to him directly.

"let's see how long it's going to take for me to break you, because it looks like your body isn't listening to that hollow head of yours."

the muscles around your nose contract with rage when his fingers brush against your stomach. the wine made it all the more easier for him to slide his hand up your torso and stops right below your bra, the sensation of someone's touch on your skin forcing your head to tilt backwards.

you stifle a cry by sucking your lips between you teeth, but a hiss quickly takes over when he removes his hand and pushes your shirt up instead.

the lines of collected wine on your skin shimmers under the light, and like bees drawn to honey, he runs his tongue on every line of wine within his sight.

a loud whimper escapes your throat, and your grip around his arm tightens even more. there was nothing in your head telling him to stop, and you hated it.

this was your body's way of telling you that it didn't want him to stop, despite how much you wanted it to.

his lips replace his tongue every now and then, and the suction of your skin into his mouth tells you that he wasn't going to let you go free of any reminders that you chose to fuck with the other half of two areses.

his nose finds your cleavage, and the tugging on your bra starts to send loud, alarming signals through your head. he finally removes his palm from your throat but he quickly finds both your wrists and holds it in the air like it wouldn't hurt after awhile.

you tilt your chin down only to watch him attack the skin of your chest with his lips and teeth, and the sight coupled with the drills of shock and ecstasy makes you cry out loud even more.

"for someone who hates me, you seem to be enjoying this a lot."

the smugness in his eyes was so overwhelming, the muscles around your nose tensed up and you grunt in anger under his hold. he yanks harshly on your wrists to force you to sit up, but your head hangs low in slight defeat which you refuse to admit. your wrists were held above your held like it was tied to a bar, and his free hand finds your chin pressure you into looking at him.

the effort required to shake your head out of his touch was rendered useless when he grabs your jaw instead, and his head tilts downwards just so you were made to look down at him.

"you're just having fun, aren't you?" if words could cut, you wish they were aimed straight at his chest.

his ares flashes across his face for a split second before his lips were pulled out into a merciless grin.

"aren't you?"

you were on the verge of spitting in his face, but he pulls you away from the table and drags you to the living room, throwing you on the sofa and leaving you to process the next few seconds of chaos.

"your safe word is 'stop'," he finds your ankles that were struggling to push your body away from him and yanks on them. "it's an easy word so i doubt your brain would forget how to use it."

your back gets dragged down against the rough material of the sofa while he pulls you nearer and nearer to him like you were the rope in tug of war.

"so if your brain can’t bring itself to say it, then i suggest you apologise and i'll consider playing nice."

"i don't fucking--" your legs aimlessly flails around his arms holding onto your knees now, pulling them past his hips. "--need to apologise."

"you don't want to apologise? that's fine," he shakes his head ever so slightly. "but we'll see what happens after i break you."

to your dismay, he releases your hands without hesitation, and you watch his eyes gouge your soul out of your body.

do something.

stop him.

anything.

your fingers dig into the space between the pillows on the couch and the cushions. heavy, reluctant breaths pushed and pulled on your chest like someone was using a defibrillator on you.

the clothes continue to leave lines of wine on your skin when he peels them off, and your gut fills with a disgusting mixture of hatred and lust when the warmth of his tongue lines the rim of your shorts.

the piece of cotton comes off your legs messily as he leans back, and the soaked, heavy material hits the floor with a loud thud.

the organs in your chest become so painfully detached from your thoughts when they empty themselves of air when he plants his lips to the space right above your underwear, licking and dragging his taste buds all over your skin in a bid to taste whatever droplets wine that wasn't rolling off your stomach.

"your apology can come anytime now, tiger," he hums into the little hairs on your stomach, finger hooking onto the material around your hip. "unless you're only refusing to do it because you want me to break you."

tears of grudge and resistance start to pool in the back of your eye sockets when you squeeze them shut. a puff of air hits your stomach when he scoffs, and the wet piece of lingerie comes off your hips. he drags it down your legs and it rolls up into an ugly look of a short rope, tossing it right above your head, challenging to fuck with your mental even more.

ares returns for a split second to drill all the memories of him back into your head, and a scorn washes over your face when lucifer violently pulls you nearer to him.

"you can't break me."

his thighs lock your legs apart and you completely ignore the fact that you were exposed to him.

but the pooling heat that was slowly seeping out from your south you betrays you.

"your lips say that, but your body says i’m already halfway there."

no amount of preparation could've prevented you from letting out an inhumane growl out your throat when he wraps both arms around your thighs and hoisted your hips up to his face.

your shoulders were anchoring your neck and head to the couch, but your knees were over his shoulders, your painfully wet core close enough to feel his breath on your neediness.

your hips get circled and he presses his palm on your abdomen, the position rendering most of your struggling useless when he locks his strength against your hips.

your tongue suffers from the ruthless clenching of your teeth when he lightly brushes his tongue over you. the friction of the buds on his wet muscle sends you into a frenzy of muffled cries; cries you muffle by biting on your tongue and sealing your eyes shut.

your hands balled into fists and every inch of you shivers when he presses a finger onto the sensitive nub that shouldn't be in his reach in the first place.

the effort and strength you were channeling into keeping your mouth shut was being hungrily lapped off your south, and your lips finally fall apart to let the lewd sounds fill the room without your consent.

he doesn't once push his tongue in, and your body's hatred towards the emptiness replaces your hatred for him.

it was like ares and eros were having a death match inside you, and one was winning by a large margin.

the pressured circles remain consistent while he does nothing but lick your skin like he was licking a lollipop, only every now and then giving the skin between your entrance and thigh a little suck instead of sucking up your soaked lust.

cries and mewls start rolling off your lips when desire forces you to look at him at a forty five degree angle. all you could see was the look of satisfaction eating your insides while watching you crumble under him.

desperation starts to suck air back into your lungs like a vacuum cleaner and your hands reach up in a bid to shove him off you. but before you could even touch him, he lifts your left leg over his head and flips you.

the action was carried out by him, but it felt like all your energy had been hurled out of your body with that flip. your arms lay flat against the surface of the cushion and your forearms push your torso back up in a bid to support yourself.

but his weight comes from behind you and he violently removes your shirt, pushing you off your train of thought and action. he finds both your wrists while he unhooks your bra, giving your torso a little jerk by yanking on your arms so the cups would come off your breasts.

you wonder for a moment what was the point...

until the tips of your breasts start to rub against the rough material of the couch.

a hiss seeps through your teeth upon the contact, and he pulls your torso back up by your arms like they were reigns.

"last chance, tiger."

the weight on the couch behind you shifts and dips, and you hear more clothes being thrown to the ground. the hands on your wrists switch for a moment, but the grip his fingers had on you was enough to absorb all your physical strength.

your knees were digging into the seat cushion, and your bra was hanging messily around your chest, with one strap already dropping to your elbow. the devil of lust pastes wild thoughts in your head but the ares inside your heart provides you with one last burst of arrogance atop all the lack of fight left in you.

an exaggerated scoff ripples through your throat when his 'threat' tickles a funny bone in you and his palm finds the spot on your neck where you wished you could slit your skin.

"fuck you."

he shakes his head in your peripheral vision and releases your neck, pushing you back down into the sofa by your shoulder blades. your wrists writhe and struggle in his grasp as if it would do any good, and lust shows itself in a tight smile of defeat on your lips when you feel something slippery prod at your entrance.

his chest comes down onto your back and his voice rumbles through you like an earthquake, blood rushing from all over your body to your face and down to where you needed to be filled against your will.

"if you're going to act like a bitch, then i'll treat you like one."

your lips part while a sneer slaps itself across your face at his words, but it doesn't last long.

a drunken concoction of defeat, resentment and pleasure gets pushed into you where lust wanted you to be filled, and the nerves that pulled your walls apart upon the harsh penetration start to rip ares out from your body like an exorcism.

a loud groan exits your throat by force and your temples tighten when your legs tremble under him. your forehead finds the tiny bumps of the material on the couch, and he releases your wrists when he starts to thrust into you.

he starts recklessly flicking and playing with your sensitive nub from under you, and the sensation drills brutal bolts of pleasure through your physical existence.

your entire body starts to jerk along with his thrusts, and the tears return to your eyes when his free hand digs into your hips.

the stimulation starts to become overbearing and it exposes itself as harsh grunts and moans that were dripping out the corner of your lips with drool.

little threads of the surface of the couch get scratched out while your fingers curl against the material. your breasts being pushed and pressed into the roughness only adding on to what the rampant fucking he was doing to you.

he was painfully quiet, only because he wanted you to hear yourself enjoying it. lust was having fun eating every inch of your gut, but your head was on fire at the realisation that you've physically resigned to him.

every thrust pushed a dollop of pleasure out of you, and it was doing nothing besides fuel his pride and ego.

turbulent tremors start ripping through you like chainsaws when the magic spot inside you reveals itself, and the moans were gradually replaced with cries of agony at the thought of him making you come.

ares is brutal, but you were the weaker one of the two.

he stops without pulling out, grabbing your forearms and yanking you upwards like before. your chin tilts towards the ceiling when his knuckles find your throat, with enough pressure to make you feel the heat growing in your stomach, but not enough to knock you out.

the edge of your high was in sight, merely a few thrusts away, and feeling every inch of him throb inside you was only pushing your tolerance to the limit, if not, through the roof of your abilities.

“one word and i’ll give you what you want.”

“i don’t--” he cuts you off with a harsh thrust, the hard smack of his hips against your flesh electrifying your entire nervous system for a second.

"apologise and i'll consider letting you come."

"ha," the noise that left your lips was so dead and strained, you couldn't stop your teeth from clenching from the sudden, rough thrust he pushed into you again. "there's nothing... for me to apologise for."

his palm presses against your core with the other still wrapped around your throat, and he gradually increases the pressure with every circle he draws on you.

the molars lining your jaws would’ve cracked from the intense clenching, and your face contracts into an ugly mess of emotion. the tears finally push through your lids and roll down the side of your cheek, the lack of movement where you needed it was forcing your want to win into oblivion.

“aw, what’s wrong?” he draws a sloppy trail on your neck where his fingers didn’t cover with his tongue. your walls clench down on him with discontent and the force pushes a groan from him. “cat got your tongue? you were moaning just a few minutes ago.”

one. harsh. flick.

“i gave you a simple word to use but you haven’t even uttered it.”

another clench, but he doesn’t even flinch.

“you’re getting wetter around me, in case you didn’t know.”

he pulls the skin around your jaw downwards so you could see the reflection in the glass sliding doors opposite you, and the lewd sight made you pool around him even more. the tears become relentless and your south was throbbing so hard, you couldn’t even tell if it was you, or him.

“one word,” he whispers, eyes locking with yours as tiny, white orbs in the reflection. “and i’ll let you come.”

the last hint of ares vanishes when eros steals the crown, and your lips part to provide him with a shivering exhale.

“i’m sorry.”

“for?” his shaft inside you twitches, and it cues a sharp inhale.

each word crawls its way up through your voice box and out your lips, and you’ve never felt so powerless in your life.

“...for removing your report.”

this was what breaking your spirit felt like,

and lee hyunjae just broke you.

he finally releases, and gravity pulls you back down into the seat cushions of the sofa.

“good girl.”

your nails start to leave marks in your palm when he starts ramming into you ruthlessly, there nothing else besides the sound of slapping and lewd noises polluting the air.

the smell of wine on your skin starts to mix with the scent of sex; the scent of you and him slowly dripping down your inner thigh.

"tell me who's making you feel so good--"

tears start to find their way to the corners of your eyes again, and you bury your face into the cushion of the sofa. you let out a strained growl when he tugs harshly on your wrists, cuing you to look up and capture the sight of him violently throwing his hips against your ass.

“tell me, darling, or i’m going to stop.”

the sound of him slapping against your ass cheeks pushes out painful whines and mewls from your throat, and he revels in the vibrations that run along his shaft with each cry you offer.

"...you--”

“i can’t hear you over all your moaning--”

“you! you... you are--”

the tears hit the couch and the entire piece of furniture starts to jerk along with you.

“i don’t think my name is ‘you’, darling.”

your forehead pressed into the rough material when he finds your nub again, and now he was pressing harsh kisses onto your spine, overloading your senses altogether as if each cell inside you wasn’t already coming undone.

“hyunjae, you’re... making me feel so-- please--”

the horizon starts to shine and glimmer in your head, the visual getting clearer and more vivid with every thrust and eros was eager for you to reach that finish line.

“louder.”

“hyunjae,” the name runs out cold into the air around you as a loud moan. “let me come, hyunjae.”

no need to see the smirk of victory appear on his face when you could already imagine it.

“that’s it, darling, that’s it,” the kisses on your skin become hungrier and the thrusts become harder, if it was even possible.

“oh, fuck--” he starts playing with your extremely sensitive nub now, and the kissing on your shoulder blades were pulling and ripping your grip on reality apart. eros smiles at you when the horizon comes nearer, and your lips part again to beg.

“yes-- hyunjae-- please-- oh, fuck, please don’t stop.”

his pace picks up upon your pleading, and your entire body goes into hyper mode.

“yes, yes, yes, yes, oh-- hyunjae-- right there--”

with every thrust, your edge gets closer, and with one tight snap inside, you erupt into a sputtering mess of inhumanely loud moans and whimpers when your vision blinds.

your south was throbbing, and not a single muscle in you was functioning anymore. your thighs were shaking when he pulls out, and some hot, wetness start to land on your back.

your vision returns, and your breathing struggles immensely to regain composure. the skin that was hugging your bones, muscles and organs were rippling with painful tremors, and saliva was dripping off your lower lip onto the couch beneath your chest.

the cushion behind you lifts, the change in weight pushing you off your little hold on balance and you crash into your own sofa like a corpse.

you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, but you could hear his heavy breathing and panting. how you wished that there was a genie somewhere for you to rub your hands on its lamp to take you back in time, so that you weren’t dumb enough to take the report.

had your ares been wiser, eros wouldn’t have destroyed you from the inside.

‘stop’ was an easy word, yet not once did it cross your mind.

it was like he heard your thoughts and you reprimanding yourself, and a small scoff motivates you to look up with the last pinch of energy you had.

he was pulling his shirt over his neck, his pants already hugging his thighs and hips. his hair was in a slight mess, but not enough for anybody to guess that he just broke you.

“ares my ass, you’re not so hard to break after all.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter VI: Venerum

A/N: i need to BATHE and PRAY for myself--

#hyunjae smut #hyunjae fanfic #lee hyunjae #hyunjae #the boyz hyunjae #timetohajima #no #fml #i DIED

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starlordsandrockets · 5 years ago

Text

Gold Dust Woman: Ch. III

semi-warning: light smut

summary: (Star-Lord x reader) The walls that you had built around yourself begin to crumble as you start to fall for Peter’s charm.

a/n: sorry for the wait between chapters. i edited this fic more than i wrote it. but i’m happy with the chapter, even if it is shorter than the others. enjoy

GDW: the compendium

Peter’s gentle touch trailed along the front of your neck, making a whimper leave your blushed lips. The small noise made a smirk appear on Peter’s lips, as if he was pleased with himself, “Come on darling,” he cooed, trying a new name and trying to break the wall you built around yourself, “why don’t you tell me what’s going on in your pretty little head,”

You turned your head, neck still in Peter’s gentle grasp. Meeting his eyes, you searched for bad intentions but all that reflected back into your y/e/c eyes was unquestionable compassion, “Peter,” his first name slipped between your lips as your hand found the soft fabric of his grey shirt. The fabric fell between your fingers as you studied him. Peter’s hand left your neck, cradling your cheek with a smile, “I can’t let my guard down,” you almost choke out.

“What happened to you,” Peter smiled, the two of you inches apart, “was it a guy, because I’ll kill him. I swear to god,” his tone turned serious, making you laugh.

“I’ve been on countless guy’s ships,” a nervous smile crossed your lips, eyebrows furrowed as uncomfortable encounters flooded your mind, “I can never let my guard down, or else I’ll regret it,” Peter’s thumb ran across your skin after every word. Peter’s free hand found your cheek, holding your heated face in his hands, “Peter,” you whispered as you watched his blue eyes take you in. He scanned every inch of your face with a soft smile.

“Talk to me,” Peter almost pleaded, leaning closer. You felt his breath against your skin, making your eyelashes flutter closed. Peter’s rough lips fell flush against your forehead in a sweet kiss, “please darling,”

Peter’s words made you melt in his hold and suddenly you had a need to tell him all of your worries, “Some guys thought that I owed them, for giving me a free ride,” your gaze bounced between his two blue pools, “a ride for a ride,” an uncomfortable smile played on your lips, jokingly coping with your claim, “and there were times that I wouldn’t be able to sleep,” you almost whispered, “because I was afraid to wake up underneath them,” you found yourself rambling under Peter’s gaze, “it’s just easier to not trust anyone,” your hold on Peter’s shirt tightened as he brought his lips to your face, peppering you with gentle kisses, “mhm,” you whimpered, “I had to fight him off me so many times, I was so tired,” your voice shook in a low whisper, “I’m so tired,” pulling on the fist fulls of fabric, you brought Peter closer to you. Your lips found his jawline, leaving tired kisses along his rough beard.

“Oh, darling,” he nearly sighed, your lips taking his breath away, “I’d never hurt you,” his strong hands found your waist, pulling your body against his. Not wanting any space between the two of you, “Stay,” he pleaded as your lips pressed against his cheek, before pulling away. He watched as you met his eyes, “I won’t let anything happen to you, if you stay with me,” Peter cleared his throat, finding himself rambling, “with us,”

Your fingers trailed along his chest as your eyes followed them, “Such a hero,” your eyes found Peter’s cut lip. Raising your thumb, you traced the cut lightly, “Star-Lord,” you smiled as you raised your gaze, boldy meeting Peter’s blue eyes.

Peter’s finger tips dug into your hips as he pulled you against him, roughly placing his lips against your own. He took your breath away, that or his sudden force pushed the air from your lungs. You let out a groan that vibrated against his lips as his fingers began to leave bruises against your delicate skin. The tattered fabric of your shirt easily traveled up your skin as Peter’s fingers followed the dark hem. His fingertips were rough, barely grazing your skin making you shiver.

The cold, stuffy air of Peter’s room kissed your exposed skin as Peter’s lips did the same. The fabric of your black, lace bralette caught Peter’s eyes as he took in the curve of your chest, making you self conscious without delay. Raising your head, you met Peter’s hungry eyes, but not for long. Attaching his soft lips on the skin of your neck, he left rough kisses along its surface, taking the delicate skin between his lips.

A crash rang through the Milano, making you jump, backing out of Peter’s hold, “Darling, come back,” he spoke as his hands chased your hips, “it’s probably just Groot or Drax messing around,” your ears rang from the loud noise, something did not sit right in your stomach.

Another crash came, this time the Milano shook. Bumping your arm on your hip, you activated your blaster, making Peter’s brows furrow, “Y/N, it’s probably nothing,” he spoke as you clothed your exposed skin. You stood before his door, it slid open as you quickly passed through its frame, “Sweetheart,” Peter called after you, his feet following right behind his words.

Looking to your left, you met an alerted Gamora. Her eyes searched for the source of the sudden disturbance. She walked next to you now, her shoulder brushing your own as you both made your way to the cockpit of the ship.

Staring through the ship’s large windows, they were illuminated with golden rays. Blasts rattling against its glass. Your head pounded as Gamora’s garish call rang over the unidentified threat. As you approached the blinding light, the blasts stopped, your eyes meeting those of the golden woman. Your golden chain laying against her heavenly skin.

Peter suddenly appeared at your side, drawing your attention away from the Sovereign who held a large blaster. She was unlike any other Sovereign you have heard of, she was not hiding behind a ship or even from the comforts of her cushy planet. For once, she was getting her hands dirty.

Turning your head sharply, you met Peter’s shocked expression. You felt as if anger coursed through your veins as Peter studied your furrowed brows. Clenching your hands, your nails dug into the skin of your palms. With a swift swing, your small fist struck against the bridge of Peter’s nose.

You thought Peter was different than every other guy that picked you up off whatever planet you had found yourself on. He captivated you. He chased any negative thought away. He made you think that you could trust him, and for a brief moment you succumbed.

“You asshole,” you cried out towards where Peter stumbled backwards, “you set me up,” the anger in your eyes reflected the crimson that sat on his skin.

Peter brought his hand to his nose. His calloused fingertips were draped in red, “You really think I set you up,” he almost laughed, raising your temper, “Sweetheart, come on,”

“You can drop the act,” you reflected his unsettled laughter, “Come on Quill,” you pointed your blaster at him as you spoke, arms mirroring your changing expression, “how stupid do you think I am. I mean, she just happens to know exactly where I would end up,” you rambled on through your blind rage, “I almost let my guard down,”

Peter approached you again, a wide grin growing on his lips, “I mean, it wouldn’t be the first time I brought a girl back here, word gets around I guess,” he chuckled meeting your eyes. Immediate regret washed over him as your eyes pierced his like tiny daggers.

“And it wouldn’t be the first time you dug yourself in this deep of a hole either,” Gamora commented, reminding Peter of her presence, “I like you,” her gaze quickly left Peter, falling on you, “don’t fall for his, sorcery,” Gamora’s words were drawn out, as if she was recalling a memory from her and Peter’s past.

Your eyes left Gamora’s, then Peter’s, finally falling back to the golden goddess that was waiting for you, “Shit,” you groaned, realising she was not going to leave without a fight. Her large blaster reflected the sunlight that bounced off her perfect, golden skin.

#marvel fanfic #marvel fic #marvel smut #marvel fanfiction #peter quill fanfiction #peter quill x reader #peter quill fanfic #peter quill smut #star-lord x reader #star lord fanfiction #star lord x reader #star lord fanfic #star lord smut #star-lord fic #star-lord smut #star-lord fanfic #star-lord fanficiton #GDW

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pendragonsandbuckleys · 5 years ago

Text

hold me like the moon holds onto the tide (3/3)

Summary: Kidnapped and locked in a cell with no escape. Alex and Michael are faced with an ex-Caulfield employee who is prepared to do anything to get alien powers of his own. (Inspired by the Daisy/Sousa scenes in Agents of Shield 7x06)

Word Count: 3,804

[Also on AO3] [Part One] [Part Two]

“What about the time he tripped over your guitar and smashed his head into the table?” Flint leaned back as he spoke. The hard plastic of the chair was digging into his back and it squeaked as he tried to get comfortable.

He’d never liked hospitals. The strong antiseptic smell that seemed to linger in the air. The rush of people in the day and the quiet hallways at night. The big scary words that made no sense but always seemed to mean something bad. The unnatural mix of cleanliness and death.

He didn’t mind them so much when he was younger. His mother had always told him that they were hopeful places, where illnesses were cured and lives were saved. Thinking back, it was probably just her protective way of trying to calm his nerves whenever a grandparent was sick.

But at that age, her positive nature imbued in him a childish hope that the doctors would be able to help his brother. That soon they would realise that that many broken bones and bruised ribs a year was so much more than just a clumsy child falling off his bike or losing his grip whilst climbing a tree.

He couldn’t remember when he’d stopped wishing for someone to work it out and just accepted that no one would. It was probably around the same time he’d stopped accompanying his brother on his too frequent visits and had left that responsibility for someone else.

The last time he had actually stepped foot inside a hospital was after his unfortunate accident during CrashCon. Healing up in the unwelcoming, lonely hospital room for a week wasn’t fun but at least he hadn’t needed to worry about the condition of anyone else during that time.

No, the last time he’d been on the waiting for news end was during his last tour when several members of his team had been seriously injured.

Until now. Which is why part of him was glad that he wasn’t alone in his vigil.

“He must have been about eight, right?”

“Oh my god, there was blood everywhere!” Gregory grimaced as he looked over at him, horrified that his brother was even bringing up that memory.

Flint laughed softly at how uncomfortable the recollection had clearly made his brother, ”You felt so guilty! I don’t think you even got your guitar out of its case for months afterwards.”

Gregory shook his head, a smile playing on his lips. He wasn’t sure when this game between them of who had the most embarrassing moments had just straight up turned into a list of which brother had managed to injure another the most.

It was true though. He hadn’t slept properly for days after that incident. Every time he had closed his eyes he had seen Alex’s poor little face covered in blood and tears and snot and he’d felt the guilt brewing inside him. He had avoided the guitar out of fear that he would somehow manage to wound his brother with it again.

To this day he still makes sure that the instrument is kept off the floor.

“You know, growing up, I think that was the last time he was in the hospital where it wasn’t dad that put him there.” He replied sombrely.

Flint hummed in response. He had run out of words to say on that subject. It was a topic that had slipped frequently into discussions between the two of them during their months of reconciliation and it always ended in the acknowledgement of their guilt and desire to do better.

Gregory pressed the heel of his hand into his eye. It had been a long day and he could feel the hours catching up with him. “I really hoped I would never have to see him in a hospital again.”

"Were you there after he lost his leg?” Flint asked.

“No, I didn’t even know it had happened ’til months later. Did you?”

”No. I think Dad went though.”

“Seriously?”

Flint nodded with an unamused look on his face.

“Why? It’s not like he went to go play the loving father.” Gregory asked, genuinely confused as to why his dad would even bother to take the time to go and see Alex.

Flint shook his head as he repositioned himself again. At this rate he was honestly considering going on a hunt for a pillow. “That man didn’t know the first thing about being a loving father.”

Gregory’s brows furrowed as he failed to hide his surprise at that statement. The expression was so familiar and Flint couldn’t hold back an exasperated eye roll.

“Don’t give me that look, I may have followed in his footsteps but I know exactly what kind of man he was.”

Gregory watched as his brother played with the cuff of his jacket, his thumb and forefinger running along the edge before tugging uselessly at the material. It was a nervous habit that he’d always thought their father had managed to train out of Flint.

“Do you regret it? Following him?” He asked delicately, noticing how Flint’s eyes remained trained on his sleeve as he answered.

“We all followed him.”

“Into the military, yeah, we didn’t exactly have a choice. But on his little homicidal mission? The rest of us hopped that train before it reached the station.”

“Umm more like he didn’t even invite you onto the train. You have no idea what you would have done.” Flint replied defensively and Gregory was caught off guard by how much the look in Flint’s eyes reminded him of their mother.

“Pretty sure I wouldn’t have done that.” He teased, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah alright, well I’ve apologised, okay?” Flint rolled his eyes again as he leant over and gave his brother a playful shove.

Their conversation fell into a comfortable silence as their gaze drew back to the third presence in the room.

Alex hadn’t woken since Flint had found him but in the hours since they had brought him to the hospital his cheeks had gained more colour and he looked to be resting more peacefully.

Clean bandages hugged his various wounds, several IVs were in place to begin replenishing what Hughes had stolen and now all they needed was for him to wake up.

It was strange watching their brother sleep. The last time they would have had the chance was when they were all living under the same roof together, but Alex was always so guarded back then with their father in the house that he would never allow himself to be seen in such a vulnerable state. Starting after their mum had left, Greg could probably count on one hand the number of times he’d seen Alex sleep and they’d all been due to illness or injury.

The hospital ambience of the room, along with Greg’s wandering mind, was interrupted by a text alert on Flint’s phone. He slid his hand into his front pocket and pulled out the device, unlocking it with a quick tap of four digits. He opened the message and Greg watched as his eyes scanned the words.

“It’s Clay. He says he’s glad we found him and to keep him updated.”

Greg’s eyes crinkled slightly as he smiled. It had been a long while since he’d seen Clay in person but he was glad to hear that their brother was also onboard for acting like a family again. “Who would have thought it. It only took us until our thirties but we’re all finally learning how to be brothers again.”

Flint opened his mouth, ready to give a sappy reply about how he much he’d missed the bond they’d all had during childhood, when a small groan from the bed caught his attention.

Alex’s brow was furrowed as he poked his tongue through his lips slightly - a tiny habit that Greg could recall seeing him do all the time when he was younger. After a few moments his eyes blinked open as he let out another involuntary groan.

Greg couldn’t help but grin as he watched Alex slowly register his surroundings. Being closer to the top of the bed than Flint, he leant forward and gently placed a comforting hand on Alex’s arm.

“Hey.” He whispered, keeping his voice low as to not startle his brother.

Alex turned his head slightly, his unfocused eyes drifting to the left as he followed the sudden sound. “Hey,” he replied, his words slow and soft. “You’re here?”

“Of course we’re here.” Greg began to rub his thumb back and forth along Alex’s arm in a soothing gesture. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired.”

Greg was unsurprised at the answer. Alex’s eyes were already struggling to stay open. “Go back to sleep Alex. You’re safe now.”

Alex had only allowed his eyes to close again fully for a moment before they were flying open again, Michael’s name being drawn from his lips with a gasp.

Greg continued the soothing motion, bringing Alex’s gaze back to him. “He’s fine, he’s okay. He’ll probably be here the next time you wake up.”

Alex nodded as he let his body relax once more and drifted back to sleep.

Greg looked over to Flint to find him wearing a matching smile, nodding to himself in an unspoken acknowledgement. Alex was going to be okay.

The door to Alex’s room opened carefully.

Michael had noticed that the lights inside had been dimmed so he hadn’t wanted to wake anyone, though he was wholly unsurprised to find Greg and Flint watching him with raised eyebrows as he entered.

“Thought you were gonna try and get some sleep?” Flint asked in near amusement.

“I did get some sleep.”

Greg tilted his head sympathetically. “Michael, you’ve been gone barely an hour.”

Michael shrugged as he took a seat in the one remaining chair on the other side of the bed, “No one specified how much sleep.”

He had tried to get some rest but every time he closed his eyes it was like there was an invisible string yanking him back to the hospital.

Isobel had taken him home as soon as Kyle had assured them all that, in time, Alex would be fine. She had spent the drive spouting on and on about how he had been through as much of an ordeal as Alex had and he needed to rest and look after himself. Or at least let someone else look after him.

The words had been left hanging in the air between them for a good few minutes before he had fully registered her kindness. And then he had just felt a horrible pang of guilt deep in his stomach. Guilt that her compassion and protectiveness didn’t quite warm his heart as much as Alex’s had.

So he listened to her. He ate the small plate of food she had lovingly made for him. He drank the hot cup of tea that burnt his tongue. He showered, letting the scolding water wash away the overwhelming fear that had been building up inside him ever since he first woke up with his hands chained to a wall. And then he crawled into Isobel’s bed and tried to ignore the nervous energy that was still sitting heavily on his chest.

And he had slept a little, he wasn’t lying about that, but it was like his brain knew that there was somewhere else he should be and he just couldn’t take it any longer.

“How’s he doing?” He tugged at his bottom lip as he observed Alex’s still sleeping face.

“Better.” Greg nodded, taking a moment to hide a yawn with his hand. “The doctor came back while you were gone. Said he’s probably gonna be quite weak and achy for a few days at least. But the transfusions are helping and he should be fine.”

Michael ran a hand through his curls. It wasn’t much more information than Kyle had provided earlier but to hear that nothing had gone wrong in his brief absence was relieving.

“He woke up not too long ago.” Greg continued and Michael looked at him, somewhat horrified that Alex had woken without him. It must have shown on his face.

“Calm down Guerin,” Flint snorted, “it was for like thirty seconds, he probably won’t even remember it.”

Michael could practically feel the heat crawling up his cheeks. No matter how protective and borderline possessive he felt of Alex at the moment, it was still embarrassing for anyone but himself to be aware of that fact.

“No it’s good, I’m glad he’s okay.” Michael coughed as he tried to deflect the conversation.

But Greg seemed to know how to catch him off guard all of a sudden as he turned it back onto him. “And how are you feeling?”

Michael took a few seconds to process the fact that Alex’s brother seemed genuinely concerned in his questioning.

“I’m fine, my powers are back and everything.” He replied warily. With Jesse Manes gone, he knew that he wasn’t in any danger from anyone currently in the room, but it still felt strange talking about his alien abilities to any Manes man that wasn’t Alex. “I could probably do with a bit more sleep before I try to use them, but whatever Hughes did to me has worn off.”

“That’s good that it wasn’t permanent. We’ll still go through all the data that Hughes managed to collate though and find out exactly how much he knew.” Flint said strategically and Michael could practically see the mental to-do list he was creating in his head. “And as long as you’re aware that you should be sleeping, I think our job here is done.”

Greg smirked at his brother’s comment. It was very clear that getting Michael to rest was a battle they were not going to win tonight.

“Talking of sleep, you know you two look worse than I do and I was literally being held hostage a few hours ago. If you want to head home for a bit I can stay with Alex.” Michael said innocently as he watched Greg yawn once again.

“Greg, I think that’s code for he wants some alone time with our little brother.” Flint mocked in a hushed tone.

“Hmm I think you’re right Flint.” Greg joined in, watching as Michael’s eyes widened as he spluttered in defence. “Or do you think maybe it’s just our company he doesn’t like?”

“Oh definitely. He’s been waiting for the moment to get rid of us.”

“We must have done something really wrong considering the person he wants to be left with is still asleep right now.”

“That is so true Greg. I mean he’s clearly desperate so we should probably leave now before we make it even worse.”

Michael rolled his eyes as he failed to control his smile. It was a display of brotherly mocking that he never imagined he would ever experience from someone other than Max and Isobel and as embarrassing as it was, it was somewhat heartening to be on the receiving end of it.

Flint chuckled as he stood, his back instantly grateful to be out of the chair, and he took one last look at Alex before leading the way to the door.

“Text us if you need anything, okay?” Greg placed a hand on Michael’s shoulder as he passed him and squeezed reassuringly.

Michael nodded as he watched them leave, afraid to open his mouth incase no words came out around the sudden lump that had formed in his throat. Having seen the hateful side of the Manes men in action, there was something so heartwarming about seeing Alex’s brothers actually be brothers. And to be included in the familiarity was a whole new feeling entirely.

Michael looked out at the stars shining through the window. The lights were still dimmed which allowed the moonlight to fill the room around him with a soft, pale glow.

He still remembered all of the constellations that he had taught himself as a kid, back when he was so desperate to soar high into the sky to join them. Back when he’d give anything to find his home planet again.

But looking into the glimmering darkness now, he couldn’t remember how long it had been since he’d stared at the night sky in search of the home he was unwillingly torn away from.

In fact he couldn’t quite remember how long it had been since home, for him, had started to be a person again.

Michael made no attempt to stifle a yawn as he rubbed at his eyes. They were aching terribly and he could feel his body hopelessly crying for sleep but there was no way he was leaving until Alex was awake.

As if on cue, a small noise from beside him shook him out of his doziness.

He watched Alex’s throat bob as he swallowed reflexively before slowly blinking open his eyes.

“Hey,” Michael whispered. His voice so soft the word barely left his mouth.

Alex’s eyes wandered momentarily, seeking out the owner of the voice. Once his gaze locked with Michael’s, all Alex could do was stare, a small smile emerging as he took in Michael’s presence. “You’re okay?”

“Yeah,” Michael looked at him tenderly as he leant forward and laced his fingers with Alex’s. A somewhat casually intimate move that he didn’t regret in the slightest. “And so are you.”

Alex looked down at the touch and relished in the warmth of Michael’s skin against his. The act of their hands together feeling so natural.

“How are you feeling?” Michael asked, his tired eyes looking longingly into Alex’s.

“Sore.” Alex replied and Michael couldn’t hold back the huff of laughter.

“Well, that’s what happens when you offer yourself up to be a guinea pig for a crazy psychopath.”

Alex playfully rolled his eyes at the accusation. He could practically feel his head pounding in time with his heart but he did his best to ignore it. He’d willingly accept the throbbing of his muscles and the coldness in his bones right now if it allowed him to just stay in this moment.

A few aches and pains were worth it. He was just glad to be alive.

“Did he hurt you?” He asked, enjoying the way the moonlight was shinning on Michael’s curls.

“No, he didn’t touch me.” Michael assured him, “Isobel, Flint and Kyle got us out before he could do anything else.”

“How did they find us?”

“Turns out Sanders was still at the junkyard. Luckily he managed to catch the tail end of our little kidnapping so he called Isobel who called everyone and they spent the entire night trying to figure out who had taken us.”

Michael still couldn’t believe the luck they’d been in that the old man had chosen that night to stay late. They may never have been found if he hadn’t.

“Flint went to the bunker to look for possible alien connections when he found emails between Hughes and your dad. He recognised the name as someone he worked with in Caulfield so he followed the trail and it led him to us.”

Alex added another bullet point to his mental Project Shepard to-do list. If thoroughly digging into every email on the bunker’s computers was what was needed to prevent Michael being targeted again, then so be it.

“Of course he won’t tell me how it led him to us. It seems that’s classified.” Michael brought up the hand not holding Alex’s to do some one-sided air quotes.

“What about Hughes and his men?”

Michael shrugged, “Dealt with, apparently. Your brother is very secretive when he wants to be.”

“Must be a Manes thing.” Alex smirked sleepily.

“They were here earlier by the way. Flint and Gregory. They would have stayed but I used my charm to convince them that you’d much prefer to see my face over their’s any day.”

Michael winked at him and Alex felt butterflies. “Always.”

Michael gazed down at their locked fingers as he slowly ran his thumb up and down in a comforting gesture. He knew what he wanted to say next, but the words just felt so big and he needed to get them right.

“You shouldn’t have protected me like that. And I shouldn’t have let you.” He began sincerely.

“Michael-”

“But I’m grateful that you did.”

Alex’s lips parted but he couldn’t find the right words quick enough.

“We need to talk. Like properly talk. But what happened today, it made me realise how stupid it is to not be honest about how I feel.” Michael looked up and could see how intently Alex was listening. His beautiful brown eyes eager and hopeful.

“I can use as many excuses as I like. How we’re not good for each other. How it’s not our time right now. But you almost died, Alex. And if you had, it would have killed me. And if you had gone not knowing how much I care about you.” Michael shook his head as he looked away. The lump forming in his throat again. “I’m completely and totally in love with you Alex Manes. Always have been, always will. I can’t run away from it anymore and I’m done hiding it.”

Alex bit his lip as he felt the tears start to form in his eyes. He had been waiting to hear those words for so long.

He had been waiting to say them for even longer.

“I’ll never stop protecting you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I’m sorry I didn’t appreciate that before. I’m sorry I’ve pushed you away in the past and I’m sorry that I wasn’t ready. But I’m ready now.” Alex grinned, almost giddy at the declaration, “I love you Michael Guerin. Always have, always will.”

Michael could feel his heart hammering in his chest as his breath caught in his throat. He pursed his lips in an attempt to curb the ridiculous grin that was threatening to unfurl.

He gently unlaced his fingers, pushed himself out of the chair and leant over to delicately cup Alex’s cheeks, feeling the cool skin under his palms.

As dramatic love declarations go, tonights was pretty remarkable. But maybe it was exactly what they needed. They were here, they were alive and they were in love. That was the truth, spoken aloud with only the stars as their witness and there was no taking it back.

And Michael didn’t want to wait a second longer as he closed his eyes and met Alex’s lips with his own.

It was a gentle kiss. Slow and sweet and just as perfect as he remembered it being.

It was home.

#roswell new mexico #alex manes #michael guerin #malex #alex manes fic #michael guerin fic #malex fic #my fic

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marcos-scorpion · 6 years ago

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hello? (steve harrington x reader) part two of three

hiiiii! im sososososo sorry ive been gone. a lot has happened since i posted part one, and i have decided to make this a three-part (or maybe more) series, on a suggestion of my friend in sixth form. So, here is part two of hello? although its not the part two you were hoping for ;)

part one-- hello? part one

part three-- hello? part three

requested- technically I always planned on writing it, but people have requested it

warnings- anGST, tears, asshole s1!steve, swearing, smoking

word count- 1067

}{}{}{

Grinning as he rambled on about today’s drama with Tommy and Carol, Steve was thankful for the girl across the street. She never judged him and didn’t expect him to be anything but honest. And he loved her for it. It had taken him months to admit it to himself, and he could never admit it to anyone else, let alone her. She was everything he wanted, everything he needed.

But he couldn’t have her.

She was too perfect. Too smart, too pretty, too kind, and he couldn’t come into her life and ruin that. She was smeared ink and vanilla perfume, and he was bruised knuckles and strong cologne. They were too different. Worlds away, and yet so close.

Realising she hadn’t responded in a while, he decided to startle her out of her daydream with a chuckle.

“Fuck, Y/N, am I really that boring?” a laugh following his statement. “C’mon darlin’, are you there?” His voice cracked slightly at the pet name. How much he wished you were his.

Her reply came back, crackly through the phone, but he could still hear the gentle, joking, tone of your voice.

“I’m here, I’m here, just enjoying the show.”

Running to the window, he faked a look of disgust, crossing his arms over his bare chest.

“Don’t go all modest on me now, Harrington. The show was just getting good.” She let out a with a giggle.

Ugh, he hated when you said his name in that teasing tone, it made him want to make you moan his name instead.

Looking at her through the widows, shorts and massive t-shirt on her frame, he decided if he didn’t go to bed now, he’d say something he’d regret.

“It’s getting late, Y/L/N. Night, weirdo.”

“Night Steve.”

}{}{}{

He watched her dive into the front seat of Freakshow Byers’ car, watched them drive off with gritted teeth and a clenched jaw.

Fuckin’ Byers. You were supposed to be his girl, not that freakshow’s. How Byers got a girl like her it was beyond Steve. But all he knew was that she was his soulmate, and he had to have her.

But he couldn’t. She cared for Byers. And he couldn’t hurt you. Because sometimes, you have to hurt yourself to make the one you love happy. And for Steve, poor, oblivious Steve, it was killing him.

}{}{}{

Steve watched (Y/N)leave Jonathan’s car, watched her reach out to hold his hand. Why were they so late to school? Probably stopped to take fucking pictures.

Steve never had trouble getting the girl before. But (Y/N), oh (Y/N), she was special. You wrote poetry and always had a smile for him. And he decided she were so perfect he hated her. For not being his, for being Jonathan fucking Byers’, for being kind and eloquent and so goddamn beautiful it hurt.

At school, he would normally at least sneak you small smiles, and gentle touches in crowded corridors. But today, he was all hard looks and cold eyes. He could barely touch you without screaming, barely look at you without tears in his eyes.

So, yeah, he decided he fucking hated you.

}{}{}{

When Steve went to open his locker at the end of the day, a piece of pale-yellow paper fluttered to the ground. In her messy scrawl it read, ‘How am I supposed to stay away, when you made me everything I am?’. Doodles of little droopy daisies filled the rest of the paper, a small heart drawn in smudged ink at the end of the message.

Suddenly filled by both an intense anger and sadness, he ripped the note to shreds, throwing it to the floor, before stomping out of the school, just before he began to cry.

Sat shaking in his car, Steve wondered how the fuck he let himself get this fucked up over a girl. Over a fucking girl! He was King Steve, and he had a trail of broken hearts in his wake to prove it! He didn’t cry over any girl, especially not Freakshow Byers’ weird poet girlfriend. He was supposed to be the one making a girl cry, not the other way ‘round.

But here he fucking was.

So, he must take matters into his own hands.

Steve Harrington has to break (Y/N) (Y/L/N)’s heart, before she breaks his.

}{}{}{

He hadn’t called you. And it was killing him. But he couldn’t face you. Couldn’t face what he’d say when he spoke to you. What he was going to do.

While the boy was mulling over how to deal with her, his phone wrung.

“Hello?” Steve’s voice crackled through the phone. “Hello?”

“Steve,” she murmured, “Are you ok?”

Absently answering, he almost choked when he heard her voice.

And with that, Steve Harrington broke down.

“You know what Y/N, I’m not! I’m not o-fucking-kay because you won’t leave me alone! I thought I’d pity you, maybe try and be nicer to a weirdo, but I finally realised I made a shitty mistake. You’re dull, and annoying, and your fucking voice drives me up the fucking wall Y/N! It was fun talking to you, messing around, treating you like a fucking friend, when in reality, it was all fucking bullshit. You’re fucking bullshit. I hate you Y/L/N, but I seem to be fucking stuck with you. I phone you once, ONCE, and suddenly you’re on my back all the time. So, would you kindly fuck off, so I can live my life, and you can go back to shagging freakshow Byers.”

His heart broke with every word, every fucking syllable.

And when she let out a sob, he had to restrain himself from crying out. But he forced himself to the window, forced a fake cruel expression on his features. And when he met your eyes, forced himself to close the curtains.

And he fell to the floor, breaking down.

}{}{}{

The next morning, Steve watched her cry into Byers’ shirt.

He spent all day watching her broken form walk around the school, watched her smoke cigarette after cigarette.

And he realised what a terrible mistake he had made.

}{}{}{

He couldn’t fucking believe he was calling her, but he was. Oh god, he needed to talk to her, needed to apologise, make her understand.

He didn’t even know if she’d answer.

“Jonathan, I told you I’m fin-” Her voice was gravelly

“Hello?”

#steve #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #angst #harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x female #steve h #jonathan byers #jonathan byers x reader #st #Stranger Things S1 #stranger things season 1 #stranger things season one #part two of three

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hollandroos · 6 years ago

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just to see you smile | peter parker

summary: you and your boyfriend are in europe for a school trip and you sneak into his and neds room.

words: 1.1k

warnings: none, it’s all fluff

a/n: this was inspired by the far from home trailer!! i wrote it on my phone so there are no capital letters.

“you’re such an idiot, did you even pack your toothbrush?”

peter furrows his brows together, trying to remember what he chucked into the large suitcase just yesterday. “uhh… i think so?”

you laugh and rummage through the boy's bag, attempting to find even one jacket besides the one he was wearing himself. peter was known for forever being in a hurry, throwing things together instead of making sure he was prepared.

that was one of the reasons you worried so much about him being spider-man, especially after the events just a few months ago.

peter didn’t like to admit it out loud but he was still riddled with persistent nightmares and fears that he’d have to relive everything he did right from the point where he was thrown into outer space to seeing Tony Stark turn into nothing but ash.

but peter parker as determined and selfless as he was had made you promise not to bring up the events of the past starting the second you landed. you planned to stick to that promise.

outside, europe waited for you both in all its glory. your trip was planned in great detail, with a different activity each day to keep you both occupied. for you, this wasn’t just a school trip but another step in your relationship.

“oh so i see you remembered the toothbrush but not the toothpaste.” you hold up the plastic stick and shake your head at him. “smart, parker. real smart.”

knowing you were ever so sarcastic, your boyfriend takes the toothbrush from you and chucks it back into his suitcase. “oh and i can’t wait to see what you forgot.”

“bold of you to assume that i forgot anything. i’m prepared… unlike someone here.” you raise a brow in suggestion and gaze up. from your spot on the floor, you could make out a hint of adoration in his coffee coloured eyes, laced with swirls of amusement and affection.

you didn’t realise it then but you’d left your hairbrush at home.

you knew that you’d get in trouble for sneaking into his room but ned wasn’t going to say anything- wherever he was and honestly? you didn’t expect the teachers to be knocking down the doors at nine pm.

besides, all you were going to do was have a few laughs and hopefully catch up on some rest.

peter stood a few feet away above you with his phone in hand right after sending may a text. you knew it was may because he’d previously chuckled about something she’d said. you liked seeing him happy like this, carefree and content.

“you’re staring at me.”

you blink and screw up your face, nearly missing the way his cheeks flushed red. after a long flight, you both looked exhausted, dark circles lined the area beneath both of his eyes and his cheeks looked drawn but maybe that was from a few nights of missed sleep. at that moment, you couldn’t think about it twice.

your hand rested on his open suitcase, right on top of the spider-man suit and you grasp the material, feeling web shooters beneath them.

“i am not.” you defend yourself.

“you are, and that usually means that you’re thinking.” peter gets down in front of you and crosses his legs, sitting right beside the discarded suitcase holding items of clothing you had yet to steal. he strokes the area just above your brows once where a crease had formed. “what’s going on inside my loves head?”

his simple action was enough to make you relax- somehow even more then you already were. peter may be clumsy but he was also gentle in the way he spoke, moved and touched when he was around you.

if he tried hard enough, every small circle drawn on your arm or stomach or ever gentle twirl or your hair could feel like nothing more then being brushed by a butterfly. you ease closer to him until your knees are touching, hands laced. outside the streets hurl into chaos as taxis force their way through traffic and men and women shout between streets.

“we’ve been together for two years and i still love you as much as i did the day i said i love you for the very first time.” you speak over the chanting of teens down the hotel halls. “you still have every inch of my heart and there is no one else i’d rather be here with right now.”

peter feels his chest swell with love, corners of his lips curling up and in his back pocket his phone vibrates only once but he ignores it.

“and here i was thinking you were thinking about something serious.” he shakes his head playfully and presses a kiss to the side of your face. they say actions spoke louder then words.

“this is serious!” you exclaim. “I’m proclaiming my love for you despite having done it yesterday too.”

peter throws his head back in laughter, thumb running circles across your knuckles and you smile, small creases forming beneath your eyes in the darkened room illuminated by street lights and a dull, overhanging bulb.

“pretty girl, you proclaim your love to me every single day and i never get tired of it. you’re a huge sap.” he brings a hand away and you almost whine at the loss of contact before he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “by the way, i love you too.”

you raise a brow and inch your face closer, basking in the fact that for the first time today there were no teachers staring you both down, waiting for one of you to step out of line so they could scold you.

“do you though?”

peter gasps in faux offence and places a hand over his chest. the smell of mint settles between you. but still, peter smiles a real smile.

“are you questioning my love?”

“depends, are you insulting my romantic gestures?” you tease.

peters lips come down, soft and gentle at first as they run over your own only barely before he captures them in a love filled kiss. the taste of his mint gum lingered on his lips and yours too, but from the piece you stole from his back pocket when he wasn’t paying attention.

fun fact: he was paying attention and he was aware of your hand snacking into his pocket. at first, he thought you were using it as leverage to pull him closer for a much-needed hug but soon noticed you popping a piece into your mouth.

the gum wasn’t important- despite the fact that he had bought mint over strawberry knowing it was your favourite.

you truly loved him and you’d tell him every day if it meant giving him something to smile about.

Please remember to reblog or send me an ask telling me what you thought of this

Everything tags: @cosmetologynerd @holland-ish @smexylemony @thewiseandfree@zendayacolemen @dej-okay @hollandsletters @ive-got-some-lies-to-tell @liz-gayllen@marvelismylifffe @lovelyh0lland @tomhollandandmarvelsworld @woah-jess @southsidefandoms@justannothermonday @its-claire-louise @sophiatomlinson23 @mockingjaygirl1221 @joyfullyjenny@damnhisfaceisliketheskyatnight @bride-of-loki-odinson @in-the-corner-coffee-please@futuremrsb-r-main @spideyyypeter @saturn-aka-six @c0prolalia @buckykinz@ashtonsbandannas @dennasaur @amyyleblanc1999 @fnosidam@randomfangirl1701@maybeandperhaps @acciorinn @marvel-language @micki-smiles@justmesadgirl @converseskyline @niall2017 @gavemylifetotomholland @tomuchmarvel@leslieandjensen @painted-soulss @practicallylivesonline @mischiefmanaged49 @its-the-unknownspidey @holyrose96 @for-my-mind @mlxbm @erindillon11 @captainbuckyy @shawnandhisroses @converseskyline @smitten0-0kitten @parkeroos @whileinparis @unicornio-vomita-mierdas @draqcnheartstrinq @rainyboo-posts @mikalaka @petxrpxrker @tony-starks-ego @thedaydreamingwriter @peter-quackson @kateelyse96 @lesbian-jesus-jr @wheresmyquill@elyshugh @hollanderheart @tomshufflepuff @marvelismylifffe @tomsh0lland @obsessed-fandoms @girl-in-the-chair @trashqueenbitch @dramatic-and-young @honey-honey-5644@parkerluvs @chingonaconcha @captainbuckyy @jes-sica1 @tomsfireheart @Rainbow-marvel @spideysimpossiblegirl @spideys-gurl @thomasstanley-holland @mlxbm @ixchel-9275@parkerssweb @peter-parkersbb @tom-hollands-eyelash @starlightfound @vldlvj @paradoxparker @lustfulcry @mlxbm @musiclover1263 @justatheatredork @peterparkerscamera@fandomnerdsarecool @thequeensardine @cutesy-angst @httplayer @mischiefmanaged49 @loca-lola @softboyparkerr @desir-ae @dangerousluv1 @t-hotland @laucontrerasv @peter-parkersbb@whatdafricklefrackle @thatblondebelgiangirl @fairydustparker @they-call-me-le @jamiemac26@nephalem67 @underoos-tom @quaxon-holland @lovelyspidey @no-shxt-sherl @xlatinaaxx@starlightfound @mikexpeter @moonandstars-xo @httpmcrvel @evelyn120700 @fromheroestodust@hollandfieldblurbs @ghostlypandacolorpersona @spazclaiire @curlyhairedparker @josierosie@unicornio-vomita-mierdas @icondy @euphoricholland @desir-ae @lovelyspidey @thelazypangolin@ameeravioli @ramen-tically @mellifluous-tom @mrs-webslinger @krazykiara @scottyisthatyou @@s0cial-retard @sithskywalkers

#peter parker #peter parker fanfic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagines #peter parker x reader #peter parker x reader insert #peter parker fluff #peter parker oneshot #peter parker imagine #peter parker blurb

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clockworkrobotic · 6 years ago

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OOOOUUUGGGH H HERE IT IS

Thanks everyone for your patience while I took three times longer than intended <3

final word count 5234 ;;

I’m planning to write more but this ended up so absurdly long that I’m splitting it up. It’s a wild dumpster fire of headcanons and canon canons, ive tried to avoid exposition but if something doesnt make sense shoot me an ask lol

sort of vaguely around the end of BL1. Rowdy teenage calypsos. Dramatic backstory. Go

“Do it again.”

He sits cross-legged, facing her, watching intently. Tyreen scans the grass for another flower and finds one, a small purple thing that’s braved the blistering Pandoran heat to spring up from the rare lush patch they’ve settled into this afternoon. Her brow furrows with concentration as she touches it and searches for the not-quite-uncomfortable breathless feeling that precedes what she’s about to do. In honesty, she’s not entirely sure what she does to trigger it, but if she focuses hard enough, it seems to happen eventually.

Sure enough, after a few seconds, it’s wilting against her hand, the colour draining to a dull brown as the petals dry and shrivel and crumble to dust. Her chest feels hollow and then it doesn’t, her arm is tingling slightly as the pleasant warmth travels up and leaves her markings glowing a faint blue, and she feels content and floaty for a moment.

Troy is watching in awe, and he reaches out suddenly and grabs her arm.

“These are getting bigger,” he tells her certainly, inspecting her tattoos, “they didn’t go around your hand the other day. D’you think they’ll keep growing?”

Tyreen pulls back and looks at the ground. She doesn’t want to tell him that she feels them, at night, a scratching needling feeling drawing patterns down her body, and that as pretty as they are she doesn’t really want any more of them, they might make her face look weird. She also doesn’t want to tell him that he’s right.

“So cool…” He trails off, and Tyreen enjoys the quiet envy in his voice.

“I wish I could do other stuff,” she confesses. Troy shrugs.

“Maybe you can. But you haven’t found it out yet.” He pulls up another flower and hands it to her. “Do it again.”

* * *

“When was the last time you ate?”

“Dunno,” Tyreen answers honestly, “I’m fine, though, really.”

She feels more than fine. It’s the only use she’s managed to put her powers to - as long as there’s something small and alive nearby, she can draw its energy in place of food. Some days she’s been getting by just running her hands through the grass. When she thinks about it, she can’t even remember what being hungry feels like.

The past few weeks have been a blur of trudging through the arid desert and scavenging abandoned camps and just trying to stay away from trouble. They had learnt early on to avoid active settlements - the local bandits didn’t take too kindly to thieves - but rummaging around in waste and ruin yielded little in terms of rations. Tyreen had pocketed herself a neat little pistol that she (thankfully) hadn’t had to use yet and Troy had secured some kind of baton that looked as though it might have once doubled as a taser, but other than that, resources are scarce. At least this way she can make sure he’s getting something close to enough to eat.

“You should still eat something, Ty. This can’t be good for you.”

“I’m not sure living in the desert is good for anyone.” Tyreen pulls her jacket up over her shoulders to shield herself from the heat. Little as she might physically need it, she’d kill for a cold drink right about now. Beer. She isn’t even sure what beer tastes like, but she’s parsed that it’s a noble option on hot days, and under the blistering sun came now to consider it some kind of ambrosia.

Troy’s footsteps stop behind her and she turns wearily to look at him. He’s shielding his eyes and squinting into the distance.

“I think there’s a town up ahead. Let’s move.”

* * *

“It’s no use, Troy,” Tyreen groans, trying to hide how pissed off she’s really getting. Not that she doesn’t appreciate his enthusiasm, but there’s only so much she can put up with. She starts to pull her jacket back on.

“No, no, c’mon, just - one more try,” Troy pleads, darting forward to grab her wrists, “You heard the guy in the bar back there. He reckons you’re a Siren. There’s - there’s so much more you could lea-”

“Most powerful being in the universe were his exact words, Troy.” She slouches a few exasperated feet away and slumps onto a rock cluster. “Killing plants is a far cry from that.”

Troy runs a hand through his hair and sits himself on the ground in front of her. “It’s not killing plants, Ty, it’s - some kind of energy thing, like you can - steal life force or something -”

“Troy,” Tyreen cuts him off firmly, then pinches the bridge of her nose and softens her tone, “I know you want to believe there’s more to this but - I think this might be it.” He’s watching her in earnest, but she can see the light die behind his eyes a little, and it hurts. “You heard him, too. Sirens are dangerously powerful, from birth, he seemed to think they’re killing their parents and levelling bandit camps before they can walk. Do you - don’t you think, if I could do anything like that, we would’ve found out by now?” She tries to offer a small smile. It looks more like a grimace. Troy opens his mouth to say something, and she cuts across him again. “I’m sorry, Troy. It’s a fairy tale. We’re stuck on the same shitty planet as everyone else.”

Troy’s mouth is pressed into a grim line and he looks away from her. Tyreen gets up and offers him a hand. “Come on. It’s getting dark. I can start us a fire, at least.”

* * *

They come for her that night.

Tyreen is jolted awake by a hand over her mouth, and finds herself face to face with a masked marauder. Even with the ventilator covering the majority of his face, she can tell who it is.

“Hello, little Siren,” he croons, and the grin in his voice is sickening. She shrieks, one hand going for his face, the other scrabbling above her head for her pistol, kicking and howling muffled under his thick glove, trying to make enough noise to wake Troy up. The marauder is bigger than her by a lot, pinning her easily to the floor, and to her panic she can see two others advancing behind him.

“Never seen one in real life,” one of them comments, stepping over and kicking her gun out of reach, “Is she dangerous?”

“Nah, they told me everything,” says the one holding her down, and shifts to press his knee into her abdomen. Tyreen feels tears springing into her eyes. “She can’t do shit, least, not yet, anyway. Reckon we can fix that, though.”

Tyreen twists beneath him and makes another lunge for the pistol. It catches her assailant off guard, and she manages to choke out a breathless “TRO--” before he regains his hold on her, hand twisting in her hair and slamming her face hard against the ground. She can taste blood.

Several hands seize her arms and haul her to her feet, and there’s one covering her mouth again. She kicks frantically at them, feet slipping against the dusty earth floor.

“Come on, sweetheart,” is the rasped attempt at sweetness against her ear, “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.” And with that they’re dragging her from the shack, impervious to her muffled pleas and the tears streaming down her face.

Through her panic and probable concussion, she tries to find some clarity, to find that little breathless inkling she feels with the plants. It’s a long shot, she’s never managed anything more complex than a small cactus before, but maybe Troy is right, she can do it, she just needs to -

CRACK

The hand around her mouth goes limp and after a couple of beats, she feels the weight drop behind her. The other two let go of her arms, instinctively leaping away from whatever has just felled their comrade, and for one absurd moment she thinks that she’s managed something incredible.

“TYREEN!” Troy grabs her arm and pulls her behind him. He’s holding a thick piece of wood that looks like it might’ve been Tyreen’s height to begin with, but now hinged almost completely in two, bearing thick, vicious splinters where it had collided with the marauder’s head.

The other two have drawn their guns, but Troy is faster. Even at 16 he towers over them, wasteland-formed muscles knocking down both attackers in one swing of his makeshift weapon. There’s a loud BANG that jolts Tyreen unpleasantly back into reality and she dives for the dead marauder, seizing his gun from its holster and realising too late that she’s never done this before.

Troy has one of the men pinned to the ground, and the other is taking aim again. Tyreen doesn’t think, just points and shoots, aiming as far from her brother as she can get away with, fighting the resistance of the trigger until she lands a solid hit. Silhouetted by the light of Elpis, she sees him go down, his fingers twitching as his weapon falls from his grip. Her heart is racing, vision blurred by tears and adrenaline, but she can’t risk him getting up. She can hear the panicked pleas choked beneath Troy’s fingers to her left as she shoots her attacker between the eyes.

* * *

“Can’t sleep?”

“Nah.”

Tyreen sits on the mottled grass and watches the sun rise. Troy seats himself next to her, legs crossed like he used to when they were kids. Tyreen fidgets with the sleeves of her shirt.

“You can’t wear this, Ty, it’s a hundred degrees out,” Troy says, picking at the worn cotton. Tyreen pulls them further over her hands.

“I don’t want anyone to see them.”

He doesn’t have anything to say to that, and the pair of them sit in silence and watch the orange sunlight wash over camps and communes as far as the horizon.

“We have to go,” Tyreen says eventually. Troy glances over his shoulder to where the bodies of the three marauders are still lying. It’s only been a few hours, but in the heat the flies are already buzzing lazily around the corpses, and a swarm of rakk are beginning to circle overhead.

“Don’t you want to get some rest first? Nobody’s going to find us up here for a while.”

Tyreen shakes her head and lets the silence fall for a little while longer, punctuated by the occasional shriek from above.

“I’ve never killed anyone before.”

“Me neither.”

They both ponder the absurdity of the situation. Pandora isn’t renowned for its peaceful living, its occupants consisting mostly of violent bandits, escaped convicts, and the mutated casualties of Dahl’s mining operations. Yet they’d managed to avoid confrontation up until now, and it had dragged them screaming from their cabin in the dead of night. Terrified as she’d been, Tyreen wonders why she isn’t feeling more, well, anything - she’s just taken a life, and she feels as indifferent to it as if she’d walked away from a bar fight.

“They deserved it,” Troy says suddenly, as if reading her mind. His voice is flat and stony, “They were going to hurt you.”

Tyreen looks up at him. His expression is cold, and there’s something different about him, like a vengeful spark in his eye. She sighs and leans her head against his shoulder (well, arm) and then pulls away abruptly.

“Troy, you’re bleeding!”

Troy snaps out of his reverie and glances down, noting the deep indent in his bicep where a bullet must have skimmed past him.

“Has that been open this whole time? Damn it, that’s hours old, we have to get that cleaned up-”

“Calm down, Ty, it’s just a gra-”

“It’ll get infected, Troy, you could lose your arm.”

“It’s fine, leave it-”

“Let me help you.” She’s standing now, furious tears pricking her eyes. Troy doesn’t say anything. She storms inside to get the med kit.

* * *

They play it safe and don’t stop until they’re a couple of towns over. Despite the sparse population news had a habit of travelling fast here, and Tyreen is keen not to become the focal point of a planet-wide manhunt. She stays small, keeps her arms covered despite the sun, though thankfully they appear to be moving north and it’s getting a little cooler.

Troy keeps an anxious eye on her. She’s growing skittish, recoiling inward whenever anyone passes too close, avoiding eye contact as much as possible. She refuses to use her powers any more and at night she insists on sleeping next to him, terrified of what might happen if they get raided again and she can’t wake him up in time.

They’re sitting in a tavern one lazy afternoon when a conversation the next table over makes Tyreen freeze up. Troy hears it too; they’re talking about a local faction of the Crimson Lance, and the word Siren hangs heavy in the air. Tyreen cringes inwardly and looks up at Troy with pleading eyes, desperate to get as far away from this conversation as physically possible. Troy shushes her, trying to tell her without words that they can leave in a moment, but what they’re hearing could be important - Commandant Steele is old news at this point, but it sounds like they think there’s another Siren in the area. Tyreen pulls nervously at her sleeves. They can’t be talking about her, surely - she hasn’t said a word to anyone since they arrived. Low profile isn’t the word.

Tyreen gets up suddenly, upsetting their glasses, no longer resigning to sit and listen. She grabs Troy with a shaking hand and all-but drags him out of the bar.

* * *

Tyreen sleeps restlessly, tossing and turning uncomfortably, too hot and too cold at the same time, her brother’s protective hold the only thing preventing her from falling out of bed. She swears the ground is shaking like they’re resting over a tremorous fault line, yet the room and its contents remain still and Troy sleeps undisturbed. There’s a nagging urge telling her to head outside and look for… something, like a magnetic pull calling her out into the darkness, but she vehemently fights it, fear outweighing abject curiosity. When she finally drifts off, the sun is rising, spilling in through the frayed curtains, and she’s curled up in Troy’s arms, safe as she’ll ever be.

* * *

“Ty.”

Tyreen barely hears him. Her head feels like it’s full of radio static, has done since she woke up somewhere around 3pm. She’s focussing on just walking straight forward, though she’s not sure she’s doing a particularly good or convincing job of it.

“Tyreen,” Troy insists, grabbing her arm and forcing her to stop.

“Wuh,” is all she can manage, her hazy state making the sudden halt feel vaguely like whiplash. She presses her eyes shut and rubs her temples.

“Ty, look.” Troy is pointing behind her. Tyreen turns around and waits for her head to stop spinning.

“What ammi lookin’ at?” She mumbles after several seconds of attempting to decipher the blur that is her vision.

“Are you alright?” Her brother sounds incredibly worried and incredibly far away. She aware of his hand on her back, although she’s not sure that is her back, it feels thrice removed, as if she’s watching through someone else’s eyes and thinking with someone else’s brain.

“M fine. J’st dizzy. Water,” she manages, and fumbles around for her hipflask. The motion is disoriented, almost drunken, but she finds it and struggles with the cap for far too long. Troy takes it off her and opens it. “What’s am I lookin’ at?” She says again.

“Ty, you’re leaving footprints.”

“So? S’a desert.”

“In the grass.”

Tyreen blinks several times and tries to focus on what’s in front of her. It takes what feels like minutes before she can see clearly enough, and when she can, she’s not convinced she isn’t hallucinating.

As far back as she can see, as far as they’ve walked - which is not the sandy wasteland she’d been picturing in front of her for the past couple of miles, but more of a, admittedly ill-attended, pasture - there’s a set of footprints leading up to where she’s standing. Where she’s set foot, the grass has wilted away beneath her, leaving dead foliage and dry earth in its place. Tyreen looks down to where she’s standing now, and sees it; around her, the verdure wavers and leans in, towards her, pulled taut by some invisible force, before drying up and shrivelling to straw. It seems to slow as the circle around her grows, but it’s happening alright.

“This is bad... issnt it.”

“It’s…” Troy’s tone does not match hers. He seemed elated. “Ty, it’s incredible. I’ve never seen you keep this up for so long!”

“Mm?”

“You’re getting stronger, I told you, you just need to practise-”

“Troy…”

“- We can find somewhere safe next time we stop, you can try it on something larger, like, an animal or something-”

“Troy, I’m n- not -”

He’s still talking, but his words are blurring together into one excited stream of noise. Tyreen feels a drop in the pit of her stomach, like the ground has just fallen away with her still attached to it. She tries to feel for the hipflask he’s still holding.

“Troy I’m going to throw up,” She manages, surprisingly coherent, and her brother catches her as she blacks out.

* * *

Troy is holding a cold cloth to her face when she comes around. She’s lying on his jacket, but the ground beneath is hard and uneven, and the fabric pulls uncomfortably against her as she moves to sit up.

Troy breathes a hefty sigh of relief and against his better judgement, gathers her into a tight hug.

“Oh my god, I was so scared, Ty, I thought I’d lost you,” he mumbles brokenly into her shoulder.

Tyreen pats his chest gently. “’M fine. Can I have some space?”

Troy gives her one last squeeze and lets go. His face is wrought with worry, and she can tell he’s been crying. She opens her mouth to say something, and he shoves her hipflask into it.

“Drink. It’s been hours.”

She complies gratefully. He’s right, she’s completely parched, and the flask is empty in seconds. The awful fuzziness from earlier still isn’t quite gone, but she can see clearly again, and Troy doesn’t sound like he’s half a mile away when he talks. Tyreen takes a few deep breaths and scopes out the room.

It’s not a room. They appear to be in a cave of sorts, the grey walls dotted with condensation that’s slowly crawling down the walls and keeping the air comfortably cool and refreshing. Up ahead, the entrance opens out to a deep blue sky dotted with bright constellations and a full, luminous moon.

Troy is watching her. “I’m sorry, it’s not great, but it’s the only place I could find without anything…” He trails off, and she sees his jaw flex as it does when he’s nervous. “...Alive.”

Tyreen blinks at him, at a loss. He doesn’t elaborate. She draws her legs up to her chest and rests her head on her arms.

“It’s a good thing you’re wearing long sleeves, anyway.”

It’s then that she sees it. His shirt is torn - no, burnt, the edges frayed and blackened, pulling away to reveal an angry mess of red, blistering skin dragging down from his shoulder.

“Oh my god…” she murmurs, reaching out to touch him. He flinches.

“You, um,” Troy laughs uneasily, trying to lighten the mood and failing, “You were a bit grabby.”

Tyreen can only stare. She can barely remember anything before she passed out, only a static headache, and footprints, and Troy catching her, and now…

Now her brother is recoiling from her touch, on instinct, like a frightened animal, and he looks as though someone has raked at his chest with a hot poker.

“Troy,” she says slowly, “What’s going on?”

Troy runs a hand through his hair and looks at the ground. His shoulders are hunched, making it hard to see the scars she’s left on him, but she knows they’re there now, and she can’t take her eyes off them.

“I don’t know,” Troy answers honestly, after what feels like forever, “But I think those bandits were right.” Tyreen flinches at the memory. “I think I was right.” Troy looks up under his hair and offers her a half smile. Tyreen feels like her heart is in her throat, too anxious to smile back. “You can do more than kill plants.”

* * *

Tyreen is glowing.

Whatever cover the long sleeves offered her before is lost now. Through the tired grey of her shirt the markings weave a prominent blue around her arm. She wonders if they will actually burn through eventually.

She walks a few paces behind her brother, hopeful that his hulking presence will shield her from view, or at least deter any would-be attackers.

She wears gloves now, although she’s not sure it’s doing much. Foliage still wilts as she brushes past it, and it’s getting worse. She can’t control it. Her heart is hammering in her chest and she can’t sleep, so buzzed constantly that she can’t get a moment’s rest. The static headache is coming back.

They’re back to raiding bandit camps, reluctant to risk running into any enthusiasts in towns, but it’s taking a toll on the both of them. Troy still needs to eat, and as they venture further into the tundra the camps grow populous and more secure. Few are abandoned and they’re more complex, civilised almost, rickety shacks climbing multiple levels up cliff faces, connected by makeshift stairs and ladders that can barely hold Troy’s weight.

After a few close calls, they decide Tyreen should sit out the raids. Night is a lost cause, her luminous tattoos making her a walking target as they try to stealth through the camps, and during the day her vision blurs and vertigo hits her in waves.

She resolves to sit outside the camp, standing guard, although there’s not much she can do if disaster strikes. At least Troy can find her easily in the dark. She learns quickly not to mention the growing collection of marks and scars he’s amassing with each trip.

“I think we should turn back,” she says one night, as they’re huddling together under blankets, deep in the safety of a cave. Tyreen can barely feel the cold but her brother is shivering (much as he tries to hide it) and she’s giving off enough body heat for the both of them.

“We can’t.” Troy’s jaw is clenched.

“We were safer in the desert. There’s too many people here.” Troy shakes his head. “Troy, come on, we can’t stay here. You’re going to freeze to death.”

“I’m fine,” Troy mumbles, breath rising in a mist before him, “Have to keep you safe.”

“Troy…”

Her brother presses his eyes shut and shakes his head again. “It’s better for you… here.” He draws in a shivering breath. “Nothing… to hurt you.”

Tyreen knows exactly what he’s talking about, and he’s right. As they wander deeper into the frozen wasteland the greenery is dwindling, giving her body less to draw on, the headaches becoming tolerable background noise as opposed to the constant, nauseating buzz when she was brushing through the foliage a few miles back.

She wants to tell him to leave, that she’ll be fine here on her own; but she knows that’s a lie, and he’d never abandon her anyway. Troy is the only thing keeping both of them alive, and it’s killing him.

She looks up at him, in time to see his head drooping as he drifts into an uneasy sleep, resting against her shoulder. She’s managed not to burn him since that fateful night in the nexus, but she also hasn’t managed to do anything else. For a few days Troy had insisted that she try channelling the energy she’s built up, convinced that that’s what had hurt him, but after several frustrating, failed attempts, Tyreen was starting to think they’d both imagined it. Maybe she hadn’t burnt him, just clawed at him a whole lot, enough to draw blood. That must have been it.

She wishes she could sleep. Instead, the best she can do is curl up close to her brother and keep him warm until the morning sunlight seeps in through the windows of their makeshift home.

* * *

Tyreen is sitting in the snow a few hundred feet outside of Troy’s latest charge when she hears him screaming. The sound reverberates within her, shaking her to her core, raw and visceral and unmistakably him. She’s on her feet before she can stop herself.

He’s done this before… don’t get involved�� it’s too dangerous… She stops trying to convince herself. She’s never heard that sound from him before. He needs her.

Nobody looks at her when she bursts into the camp. They’re too busy huddling, watching, jeering at something she can’t see up ahead. The ground is spattered, warm and wet and soft with blood, so much blood. They’re at least a hundred yards away and the vicious spray reaches as far as where she’s standing.

Tyreen feels as though she’s wading through water as she approaches the spectacle. She can’t move fast enough, terrified of what she’s going to see, but desperate to see it. The buzzing headache is creeping an icy path behind her eyes and obscuring her vision, her heart pounding so hard and so fast her chest hurts and she can’t breathe, her blood races like molten metal through her veins and she can see out of the corner of her eye the vibrant blue radiating from her, the only visual she can place as the static pulls a cloudy veil over her sight.

She isn’t sure if the crowd parts for her, or if she pushes through them. The taunting subsides for a moment as her presence is noted, and then starts back up again, wordless yelling and mockery coming from all sides. Who is she? She shouldn’t be here.

Tyreen doesn’t need to see clearly to know what she’s looking at. Her brother is slumped motionless before her, propped half-upright against something, his form through her murky vision painted merciless red, red, red. She can make out her hands in front of her as she reaches out to him, her palms coming away from his torso hot and damp. Her mouth forms silent words, begging him to wake up, fingers drawing thick red lines along his face.

“This is heartwarmin’, truly.” The voice comes from all around her, barely audible through the haze of shock. Tyreen gets unsteadily to her feet. The world tilts sideways. “But you can’t be here, darlin’.”

Tyreen half-staggers around to face the speaker. He’s a blurry mess of colour and motion, and he’s pointing something hefty and probably dangerous at her. “You got ten seconds to leave, or you’re joinin’ him.”

What happens next, Tyreen will later justify as self-defence. It’s a lie. She’s never wanted to hurt someone so badly. She wants him dead.

The figure takes a step towards her, and Tyreen moves, hand outstretched. She thinks she hears his shotgun go off as she connects with his throat. Something surges within her, rippling through her body and charging the air around her with a terrifying electricity. Her vision goes white.

Tyreen comes around to chaos. Her clothes cling to her uncomfortably, and she’s vaguely aware of screaming and raucous movement all around her. She looks down at her hands.

She’s covered in blood. It’s coating her arms, her body, drying against her face, plastering her hair against her forehead. Through the vibrant red, her tattoos glow faintly, the light dying peacefully against her skin. The headache is gone.

Heart in her throat, Tyreen reluctantly surveys the area around her and nearly passes out. The bandit who threatened her is gone, replaced by a violent spattering of blood and viscera. An amalgam of decimated organs and what might be clothing is dotted around, hanging from various buildings and structures, painting a few unfortunate nearby bandits caught in the splash zone. Only the gun remains intact, lying in the midst of the gore, seemingly untouched by any of it. It’s almost comical.

“Don’t touch me,” she says shakily, aware of one particularly brave or foolish bandit cocking his gun off to the side. He doesn’t need to be told twice. Tyreen casts a sweeping glance around her, and the remaining spectators scatter.

“Tyreen…”

“Troy! Oh my god!” Tyreen spins around and all-but throws herself at her brother. The colour is drained from his face, his skin cold and clammy, but he’s alive.

She pulls away suddenly, remembering what has just transpired. “Oh, fuck, oh my god, I didn’t-”

“That was... awesome,” Troy manages. He smirks weakly, hand reaching up to grasp her shoulder. Hand…

“Troy, your arm!”

Troy follows her gaze to bleeding crater where his arm used to be. It’s been blown completely from the socket.

“Huh,” he mumbles. He moves to touch the wound, and Tyreen grabs his wrist. “That’s not good, is it.”

“Can you walk?”

“Th... think so.” Troy attempts to push himself up with his remaining hand. “No.”

“I- I don’t know what to do.” Panic settles solidly in her throat as the magnitude of the situation dawns on her. “Troy, y - you need a doctor.”

“Yeah…” Troy trails off, his eyes starting to drift closed.

“No, no, god, don’t go to sleep, Troy-!” Tyreen taps his face firmly, hands shaking. He doesn’t respond. “Stay awake, please, wake up, oh my god - HELP!” She scopes the camp frantically. “SOMEONE HELP ME!” There must be something, someone who knows what to do, a settlement out here couldn’t last this long without medicine…

There. She can make out the crudely-drawn Aesculepion hammered into the ground a few hundred feet off.

“I’m gonna be back soon, okay?” She presses her forehead to her brother’s, fighting tears. “I’m getting help.”

She draws herself to her full height and takes a deep breath. Picks up the discarded shotgun with bloodied hands and marches towards the medical tent.

* * *

Troy’s hand twitches lightly against hers. Tyreen springs to attention, the most she’s moved in two days.

“Hey,” she greets him softly as his eyes flutter open, “Don’t move too much. You’re in safe hands.”

Regardless, Troy awkwardly tries to push himself upright, knocked off balance by the missing appendage. Tyreen pushes him gently back to lie down.

“You need to rest. Doctor’s orders.” She shoots a smile over to the far corner, where the medic is cowering, terrified. “Isn’t that right?”

“You’re not glowing,” Troy murmurs, his voice cracking slightly from the anaesthesia. He moves over like he wants to touch her. “I can’t feel my arm, Ty.”

Tyreen brushes the hair from his face and smiles tenderly. “We can fix that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Troy squeezes her hand weakly, too worn out to inquire any further. He mumbles something incoherent and sinks back into the mattress. Tyreen pulls the worn blankets over him, feeling real relief for the first time.

It’s refreshing. Liberating. Nobody’s out to get them here, far contrary - the commune dwellers have proven quite eager to help her. For once in her life, they don’t have to run.

#borderlands #the calypso twins #Troy calypso #Tyreen calypso #gratuitous self indulgence #real talk i had a blast writing this i hope yall enjoy reading it #more to come!! like comment and subscribe!!#it's 6am i should go to bed #ive gotta go to college in like two hours lmao

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graceful-defender-of-paris · 6 years ago

Note

Theonsa high school sweethearts

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20115370

Sorry for the late reply!

(2347)

If you had asked Sansa a month ago or even five minutes ago what she thought about Theon she would have said he was like a piece of furniture, he was always around the Stark household.

He had always been Theon her brothers best friend. Theon who was her brother in all but name if Robb had his way, he was an honorary member of the Starks.

So why was it that after being dragged along by the rest of the family to Theon's swimming gala. So she of course was disgruntled because she had planned to visit Margaery to watch ‘Love Islands’. each year they took attractive singles from all over Westeros and put them on an island, the year before they were in the Arbor but this year they were on Dragonstone, it was so exciting! Especially since Margaery's brother Garlan was on so it was basically her civic duty to watch it and support her friend's brother.

But, instead, she was watching Theon. In his swim shorts, that showed off his surprisingly toned body with a chiselled abdomen that the droplets of water cascaded so attractively down, as he pulled himself out of the water, her eyes were drawn to his muscled biceps that glowed as though sun-kissed in the fluorescent lighting of the Winterfell leisure centres swimming pool.

Oh, gods, she might have a crush on Theon.

This was TERRIBLE! No no no this cannot happen , she absolutely cannot like Theon because he is much older (a year above her) , he is a notorious womaniser and worst of all he definitely sees her as his little sister.

So, all in all, she was definitely screwed.

There was no way she could ever look Theon in the eye again, let alone be in a room with him so obviously, her best option now was to run away and join the silent sisters.

Yeah, that could work.

They were going to arrive home late-probably after midnight so she would have to watch Love Island on catch up at home. After Winterfell academy swim team won they were all invited for a celebratory meal where Sansa found herself increasingly panicked at the realisation that Theon was not just hot but extremely hot.

So she did what any normal person would do. She panic texted her best friend Margaery.

[Sansie]

Okay so

Has Theon suddenly become hot or have I been blind my entire life?

[Margie]

You’re only just realising??

If I wasn't having my world rocked by your stupidly hot brother I'd jump on that

Also, have you realised that you are in love with him yet?

[Sansie]

please don't use 'world rocked' and 'hot brother' in the same sentence ever again

AND I AM NOT

[Margie]

Sure San…

[Sansie]

I mean it!

It's just that

Did I blackout for ten years or something cause I swear he was Robb's annoying best friend yesterday but now he's all attractive and annoying and oh god's I like him don't I?

[Margaery]

Yep

Now go get him before anyone else does

Since there were so many of them the family had been split into their mum's people carrier and Robb's small Toyota Prius, unfortunately for her, she was in Robbs car, which also seated Theon. She was in the back in the middle seat squashed between Arya and Theon and wondering if her life could get any worse.

She was terrified to even check her phone in the case any more of Margaery's messages came through and he would see it- which had happened with Rickon earlier.

He kept making kissing noises at her and Theon and now she found herself here.

It was nearly impossible to ignore him now. All her senses were heightened when he was around and now all she wanted was a scented candle of him, How he managed to smell like the sea and Winterfell would forever elude her but gods it was intoxicating.

Arya had been giving her odd stares as though she had been acting weird- which given the situation was understandable but it was when Theon whispered close to her ear “are you okay Sans? You're not acting like yourself” that she really fell apart.

Turns out all it took was watching Theon get out of a swimming pool for her to question everything in her life and then some.

She squeaked out an affirmation that was supposed to mean “I am fine” but sounded more like a smothered cry for help. Which Theon took to mean “I'm cold” as he took off his jacket, put it around her and put his arm over her shoulder and snuggled her closer to him.

And to make it worse, she fell asleep.

“Sans”

Her pillow seemed to be wriggling so she held on to it tighter to keep it still

“Sans, c’mon you have to let me go now”

Why was her pillow trying to talk to her?

“hrmph”

She could hear a little some bickering that sounded like one of her brothers but she just wanted to go back to dreaming of a world where Theon didn't just see her as his little sister.

Ahh Theon

Unbeknownst to her, of course, was that she had just said this out loud in front of said object of desire

“Uhhh… okay” her pillow seemed confused, “Sansa, Robbs about to drop me off at home, I'm just going to remove your arms from me so I can get out..”

Wait, what? Was she lying on Theon? Suddenly a rush of adrenaline shook her awake and she was keenly aware of how she was lying on top of Theon

She blearily tried to blink the sleep out of her eyes when she saw Theon's sea-green eyes staring intently at her, his mouth broke into a relieved smile and she fell deeper.

“You can keep my jacket, I know its cold, it's about a minute or two till Robb drops me off and I didn't want to have to wake you while everyone was watching” his eyes darted to Robb and Jon who were happily oblivious to the affairs of the back seat, and Arya who was texting away on her phone.

[Sansie]

Oh god it's so much worse I've gone completely 0-60 and now I can never show my face again

I slept on theon in the car

[margaery]

That's it?

No outburst of I love you?

boring

though if you were going to do a random declaration of love I would've liked to be there so I could do it justice in my maid of honour speech

[Sansie]

Let me live! ive only realised I liked him four hours

[Margie]

And he's liked you for at least the past four years

Honestly, I'll be dead before either of you make a move

I heard Jeyne has a thing for him, so really confess your undying love soon before we have to go on a ben & jerry's rom-com binge to mend your broken heart

[Sansie]

JEYNE?!?!

I'm so screwed :(

[margie]

You're using emojis

It's worse than I imagined

******

Its been three months since her startling realisation that she had a crush on theon and so far she had done absolutely nothing about it- not for Margaery's lack of trying.

“You know he likes you back” Margaery all but declared in the middle of the hallway on their way to geography- the one class she hated (she was failing at geography). What made that matter worse was that her teacher, Mr Luwin, had organised for Theon to tutor her for her upcoming exams.

Apparently, her teacher was out to get her as well.

“He doesn't! And I don't want to make things awkward for him and Robb. I also don't want to fail geography”

“c’mon! You cant say that you haven't loved every minute of your late-night study sessions” Margaery teases, Sansa could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks at the thought of Theon in his oversized hoodie and messy hair sitting at the desk in her bedroom.

“That's irrelevant.”

Margaery shot her an incredulous look and opened the door to their class, “you never know until you try and I have it on good authority that he would be very open to you advances” and gave Sansa a knowing wink before sitting at her desk.

Ugh, there was really no escaping it anymore was where Margaery would rest until she finally jumped the bones. And at the rate she was going she thought that theon probably would just be bones before she finally had the guts to tell him.

Thought of theon consumed her throughout geography and she found herself at a complete loss when she was called upon to answer in class.

“Miss Stark?, I asked you a question.”

She felt her heartbeat race as she stuttered out “um, could you repeat the question please?”

“How many islands make up the archipelago of the iron islands?” Mr Luwin repeated

She knew this one, Theon would always talk about his homeland and the way his eyes crinkled when gushing about the bracing wing and the waves crashed against the rocks had embedded itself in her mind “31 Sir”

“That's right Miss Stark” She let out a breath of relief, perhaps she might survive this after all.

****

She had taken Margaery’s advice to heart, so she had decided that tonight would be perfect. He was coming over for their study session and her parents and younger brothers would be away for Rickon’s Skagosi fighting tournament, Jon would be at his “nights watch” band practice and Margaery had promised her that she would keep Robb occupied.

She didn't want to know how , all Sansa knew was that she needed to do something now- or forever hold her peace.

Maybe that's a bit too much , she thought. No need to scare him senseless like “oh hello theon thank you for helping me study, by the way, let's get married”

‘Bzz’

her phone vibrated alerting her of incoming texts. She had been in the middle of getting ready- but not too ready for Theon's arrival and she rushed over to check her messages.

One was a snap from Margaery with her fingers crossed with “GOOD LUCK!” and “GET IT GIRL” splashed across it, the other was a message from theon.

[Theo]

Swim practice finished early so I’ll be there in ten

I'll lift some coffee on the way, your usual?

Oh no.

She was supposed to have at least another hour to prepare herself. She was supposed to be calm and collected not frazzled and panicked.

[Sans]

Sure :)

Crap she must sound like a prat.

She began pacing the house- her room couldn't contain her anxious energy and was midway through her second tour of the living room when Arya ambled in and said “could you please stop pacing! Just tell theon that you like him and be done with it” she had forgotten that Arya was home.

Spluttering she could barely form the words to try and denounce her claims when the doorbell rang.

Her eyes locked with Arya’s and it was a race to open the front door. Arya was using her training to vault over the sofa but Sansa’s determination drove her to push herself faster until she almost slid past the door entirely,

Her hair was a mess, Arya had just clung onto her jacket- which coincidentally was a leftover from theon when she had slept on him so long ago and opened the door. To a quite perplexed theon.

Her mothers teaching kicked in after the awkward pause since opening the door, she shook off Arya's grip and welcomed theon “Come on in!” in her best imitation of her mother's hostess voice.

Arya had other ideas, “Sansa likes you, you like Sansa. Can you two go off now and stop moping?” and pushed Sansa into Theon's arms before trudging up the stairs to her room to presumably notify the family group chat of this occurrence.

She thought Margaerys matchmaking was bad but now she was screwed.

No way to come back from this.

There was little that Sansa could really do about her predicament, Theon had dropped their coffees to catch her, “uh, hey sans” theon appeared confused as she looked up at him and then a mischevious glint appeared in his eyes and he teased “so you falling for me?”

She felt embarrassment take over as her worst fears were realised.

Pulling herself up with as much dignity is possible she turned to theon to say “There's no need to make fun of me if you don't like me that's fine and I can study just fine on my own” and made to close the front door on him.

Mother would baulk at her for such rude behaviour.

Before the door could close theon had stuck his foot in the gap preventing her from pushing him out, “Sansa,” her heart sunk further theon never used her full name. “Do you want to maybe get coffee?”

She nods tentatively in response.

Theon smiled in relief and he offered her his arm- if Margaery was here she would say his arm.

The remnants of their spilt coffee lay at their feet but maybe this was her chance, maybe he does like her.

As he opened the car door for her he bashfully asked “Was, was what Arya said true? Because, uh… if it was I would say that feel the same way about you.” she leant against his car stumped at his revelation. Sansa struggled to find the words to say to him and her eyes became drawn to his lips before dragging them back to the ocean pools that were his eyes.

So, instead, she pulled him in closer to her and placed a quick, barely-a-kiss on his lips.

He murmured “Do you have a map? Cause I got lost in your eyes��

Idiot she thought but still found herself giggling at it.

He held her closer to deepen their kiss and she could feel his smile that threatened to break out.

#sansa stark #theon greyjoy #theon x sansa #theonsa #my writing

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ilovebtsandexoalot · 7 years ago

Text

rosie

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: angst, fluff

You exited your chaotic home early on that Wednesday morning. Your sister had taken the last of the quinoa cakes and you had had enough, so you opted for walking to school rather than enduring an extra 5 minutes with your sister even if it did mean having to leave 20 minutes earlier.

You didn't mind walking for another reason though. Spending time with Yoongi had you half in ecstasy he was your best friend and you enjoyed sharing banter. He was also your crush. Now you knew to an outsider this may seem great seeing as you live right next door to each other, therefore you get to spend a lot of extra time with him. However, for you its different. You were crushing on him, and you were crushing damn hard. The only problem was, not only did he have no idea you felt this way but he also had a crush on someone else. To make this whole awful situation worse his crush was the most kind perfect beautiful girl you had ever seen, Rosie.

Even though all of your friends had said otherwise, you couldn't help but think that you were just, well Sophie, nothing special really. If you were pretty, Rosie was stunning. If you were kind, she might as well have been the reincarnation of Mother Teresa, you supposed. Every time he talked about her to you, (which was a lot) because you were his best friend damnit and you couldn't pretend that you didn't like her or discourage him because the you'd seem like a shitty friend PLUS you did like her because who wouldn’t. Him talking about her felt like daggers through your heart. It felt like you were running in a race that you knew you'd never win.

That morning you exited your driveways and the exact same time. You too always shared such remarkable timing.You were always in perfect sync. Your heart always screamed “THIS IS A SIGN YOU’RE CLEARLY MEANT TO BE” but the logic in your brain hastily corrected your hearts foolish mistake and washed out the disillusions with a wave of self hatred.

You observed him. He managed to look breathtaking even in his idiotic leaf green school coat and you mentally cursed him for pulling off anything he wore. His black hair was fluffy and looked freshly washed. “Hey friend!” he said casually. Right you thought ‘friend’ because thats all you'd ever be. The one to come to when he wants to know what ring to to choose when he inevitably marries someone outstanding and completely worthy of him, while ripping you to shreds without even knowing.

You walked for a while in comfortable silence until he said it. The words that made the ground around you crumble to pieces and left you with no way to escape. “I think I'm gonna ask her on a date” he said confidently. Your heart plummeted and as if you weren't already having a bad morning this made it five billion times worse. “Huh?” was all you could come up with . You just hoped to God that he was talking about something that wasn't about to rip your frail heart to shreds. “Rosie!” he said ‘“hey are you ok your voice sound a bit shaky” he said lightly punching you on the bicep. “Oh yeah I'm fine why wouldn't i be” you said hoping that your voice would betray the self destruction that you were experiencing. “Also thats sound great hope she says yes! “ you lied. You had to lie, for the sake of you friendship. What if he didn't feel the same way. How could you continue this friendship normally if he knew you harboured feelings for him and he was fully responsible for your heartbreak. You couldn't do that, because doing that would not only ruin your close friendship, but hearing the confirmation that he really didn't love you would destroy you. You would finally plummet off the tightrope you have been trying so hard so maintain balance upon. Plus you suppose spending time with him this way was better than not spending time with him at all.

That day at school was torture all you could think of was Yoongi and all of the threads of him being cut out of your grasp and being left with a broken heart and theres nothing you could say or do about it because nobody knows about this. to everybody else your Yoongis best friend. Nothing more. Nobody knew the pain you felt every time he looked at his love interest. And thats how it should be, because if nobody knows than nobody will ever find out especially Yoongi.

You gathered your books for homework rather a huff as your teacher was a huge bitch and gave you a hell of a lot of homework. As you walked out of the school building you found your eyes drawn to the effortlessly stunning silhouette of Rosie along with Yoongi’s rather nervous looking one.He was doing it. There’s nothing you can do abut it. You lost him. The realisation punched you in the face. You never even had him. How can you lose something that wasn't even yours in the first place? You needed to get out. You needed to get home. You willed your tears to at least refrain until there weren't people you knew in the vicinity but it was no use.

“y/n!” You barely heard the familiar voice over the constant ringing in your ears. You couldn't stop now. You couldn't face him now. You heard footsteps speeding up against the tarmac and felt a warm hand on your exposed arm. You reluctantly turned your head towards the confused boy. “woah woah hey hey hey why are you crying? are you ok?” You breathed a choked laugh and the question. No you weren't ok. Far from it actually. You had a constant pain in your chest because you were constantly wanting something you knew would never be yours in the way you needed it to be. “I-I’m sorry” you choked. “I can’t do this.” you ran. Ran away from the pain. Away from his shouts of your name. Away from the boy who broke your heart and had no idea he had done it.

You sat in your room on your bed crying and crying. Just crying. Your phone constantly ringing and Yoongi’s name flashing upon it. The ringing stopped. Had he given up? The thought brought sickness to your stomach. Did he really not care that much. Just then you heard a knock on the door. You didn't want to talk yet. You weren't ready. You needed him and you were too scared of the consequences of what you needed to say. Having him but being in constant emotional pain was better than not having him at all.

Wasn't it?

You're parents weren't home yet so nobody would answer the door. What if it wasn't even him? What if it was your mum needing help with the shopping. You thought there was no harm in checking, So you reluctantly trudged through the hall and checked the peep hole. No mum. No sopping. Just a worried looking, incredibly gorgeous, kind and hilarious by that you had known so well. You didn't want to answer. You didn't mean to answer. You knew it wast wise. But you did it anyway. They say when you truly love someone the pull is strong and you find yourself alway drifting back. This was that. True love. The pull. You felt it and it threatened to consume you. And that is why you opened the door.

When you opened it you saw Yoongi looking almost surprised that you did. “Come in.” you said flatly. You knew being cold was unreasonable because technically he didn't quite know what he had done wrong, but you had had enough. He needed to know the truth before the pain controlled you. “So are you gonna tell me what I did to make you so pissed off at me or are you just gonna be bitchy and ignore me again.” He had no fucking right to say that and now you were angry.

“You think I'm being bitchy” You almost screamed “wow how could you be this stupid” you said under your breath. “You think I'm being bitchy.” you said calmly this time. “Do you want to know whats bitchy?” you started. At this point Yoongi looked even more confused than when you told him what a period was in 4th class. “Longing, and yearning for your best friend and knowing he’ll never love you back.” you said breathlessly.

“What are you talking about? Of course I love you” he said weakly.

You laughed humourlessly. “Not in the same way I love you. Do you know what I’d do for you to look and me, to talk about me, to love me like you do Rosie. God I love you! How can you not see that!” You felt like all the life had been sucked from your body. “Please love me.” You whispered

Yoongi stared blankly back at you. And so it being the painful demise of your weak heart. “I-I need to take a walk” all you could do was stand helplessly and watch him leave. Probably never to return. He grabbed his jacket and you heard the click of the front door. Thats when you sunk to the ground and cried, and cried and cried.

You just sat there and thought about Yoongi, his hugs his touches his soft kisses at your temples that made you melt and didn't do a thing for him. All the things you had just lost. His company made you feel like you were finally happy and there was nothing anyone or thing could do to change it. Until now. Now you were alone. And your heart was broken. Forever.

You didn't know how long you were asleep for. You almost had forgotten what had happened but not for long. You must have been so emotionally drained you fell asleep. But now you were faced with the soft expression of Yoongi looking fondly in your direction. It felt like a dream as he moved a strand of hair from your face and around your ear. “hey!” he said softly, “Are you awake?” you groans in response. “Good.” he said “Cause i need to tell you something.”

“no” you said “can we just say like this for a while. Please”

So you did. You stayed in his arms for a while. It felt just like it should. It felt perfect. It felt like Yoongi.

“rosie said no.” he said softly. what. Was she crazy? “huh?” was all you could manage. “yeah, she mentioned something about having a boyfriend in Andrews or something.” he looked slightly dejected as he spoke. “oh I'm sorry yoongi..” you said.

“Look y/n, I’m gonna tell you something. It may not be exactly what you're looking for but its the best i can give you right now. I’ll be honest. Ive never thought about you in that way before. BUT, if you're willing to I'm willing to try it as something more. I love you sophie not in the same way as you do yet, but I can see myself with you in the future. And that is why I'm asking you now, to go on a date with me on the condition that if it doesn't work you'll be willing to go back to friends, best friends.”

“yes.”

10 years later.

You and Yoongi had just finished your 10 year anniversary dinner. 10 years since you decided to be boyfriend and girlfriend. 10 years since he told you he loved you. In every way.

It was the middle of summer. It was 9pm and as you walked through. The park where you and Yoongi had spent much of your childhood. The park where you went on your first real date. It was perfect. The sun was sinking into the horizon like quicksand. You made it to the top after a slow ascent. You walked handed in had over to the balcony type thing over looking the bay. “Oh my God that is beautiful!” you exclaimed. “not as beautiful as you.” he smirked. “that reminds me actually.’ and that moment was when your life truly began. The moment where he knelt down one knee and spoke. “y/n y/l/n. I know we’re both young, and i know this may feel too soon to you, but it doesn't for me and well the more i think of waiting, the less i want to , and i just want today thank you for being you. Thank you for telling me your feelings so i would stop being such an idiot and realise mine. Thank you for making me study for the Leaving cert. thank you for reminding me not to eat too many koka noodles. thank you for not being Rosie. Thank you for being amazing, intelligent, beautiful you. There is not a single other person in the universe I’d rather spend the rest of my life with and thank you for letting me realise that. y/n y/l/n, will you make me the happiest man on earth, will you marry me?” By now obviously the tears were GUSHING but you didn't care. The man you adored loved you and wanted to marry you. All you could think of saying was

“yes!”

#bts #bts x reader #yoongi #min yoongi #suga #BTS suga #yoongi x reader #suga x reader #bts army #bts imagines #bts scenario #yoongi imagine #yoongi scenario #suga imagine #suga scenario

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owakoblack-portspa · 6 years ago

Text

A Dream of Bethlehem

Fandom: Hetalia: Axis Powers

Pairings: Knights Hospitaller x Knights Templar; Prussia x South Italy

Characters: Teutonic Knights/Prussia (Gilbert), Knights Templar (Chris), Knights Hospitaller (Giovanni), Kingdom of Sicily/South Italy (Lovino)

It is not a very good day to go to Acre, not a very good day at all, people warn little Gilbert. The deeper you go into the city, the more dangerous it becomes, people say. But I am a knight, I am not afraid, Gilbert braces himself. He has seen blood flowing like a river, he has seen corpses piling up a mountain, but he has never seen a hell like this, right in the heart of the capital of the Holy Land. In the streets of Acre, where Christians fight Christians, where brothers kill brothers, homicide and fratricide become natural, even though themselves are not natural at all--it is not a holy land, it is a wild world inhabited by evils. To Gilbert’s utter disgust, after the fall of the Genoese flag, advance the crimson Hospitaller banner and a group of knights in black uniforms into the burning street. ‘Wait, can’t you spare the citizens’ houses?’ Gilbert stands in front of the charging army, but he is unwilling to draw up his sword. ‘And can’t you see the Venetians are our enemies? Step aside, child!’ a tall Hospitaller waves his naked sword towards the little albino. A heavy sound of two clashing swords--a white knight shields Gilbert from the gigantic man, and a string of blood instantly spills onto the red petit cross embroidered on the chest. Even though his left palm is pierced by the sword, and an ugly, bloody hole appears as his enemy’s sword is swiftly and cruelly drawn away, the knight does not show any sign of fear, and quite on the contrary, his angelic face still keeps on smiling. ‘Brother Chris!’ ‘Christien!’

Two boys cry out at the same time. As Gilbert is lying on the ground and Chris is standing in front of him to protect, Giovanni appears just in time, his handsome face furious and sweaty. ‘Stop! The little one is the Teutonic Knights! Our ward!’ Giovanni shouts angrily to the tall Hospitaller. The anonymous Hospitaller sheathes his sword immediately, despite Giovanni the teenager looks much younger than him. ‘I’m sorry, Your Eminence,’ the Hospitaller now looks pallid and trembles like a leaf, ‘I didn’t mean to hurt His Eminence the Order of the Temple, but...’ ‘It’s nothing.’ Chris waves his injured palm impatiently to everyone, smiling as usual, ‘I love playing the role of a martyr. I am so glad that I protected little Gil, in spite of the fact that YOU are his guardian, Gio.’ Giovanni can tell the satire in Chris’ words, but he is not going to argue with a wounded person--after all, his another profession is doctor. ‘Let me see your wound, Christien.’ Giovanni’s voice becomes softer, but firm. ‘I’ve told you it’s nothing.’ Chris’ face becomes paler as he draws his sword in a position of defence, his flaming purple eyes threatening, ‘If you dare to touch me, I’ll revenge myself on you now!’ Giovanni stops short, staring at the blond with sudden coldness, ‘I won’t if I can.’ Then he turns to Gilbert, and raises up the little boy, ‘Are you alright, Gilbert? I’ve promised the Kingdom of Sicily to take care of you. I hope you’re not hurt.’ ‘Don’t treat me like a child!’ Gilbert’s reddened eyes make him look more like a rabbit, and he jumps high to protest. Giovanni does not take his protest seriously. He simply holds up Gilbert’s clenching hand, and retreats with his army, without casting another look at Chris, who remains standing in silence .

‘Brother Gio, can’t you treat Brother Chris a little better? He has saved me! And of all things, why do you two fight each other? You both are christian military orders!’ At the Hospitaller headquarters, Gilbert enquires. ‘The Knights Templar are stronger than us. If we don’t fight to protect ourselves, we’ll be destroyed by them.’ Giovanni replies calmly. ‘Why do the Knights Templar want to destroy you? Brother Chris in fact is very kind-hearted. Even though he knows I am on your side, he teaches me combat skills...hoops!’ Gilbert just realises that he has leaked the secret between Chris and himself. ‘Gilbert, you know I’m not happy to hear this. I hope you won’t betray me as you’ve developed a good relationship with my archrival.’

It has been a week since Chris was injured, and since that day, Gilbert has been bringing medicine to the Templar castle on Giovanni’s command as a punishment of his ‘betrayal’. What Giovanni requires Gilbert to keep in mind, is that Gilbert must not let Chris know who is actually prescribing medications. However, in the end, Gilbert cannot help telling the truth to Chris, ‘Brother Chris, I really hope you can stop fighting with Brother Gio. You see, he regrets what he’s done to you, and sends...’ ‘I hope Gio is not behind this, otherwise I will not accept medicine from you any more.’ Chris interrupts quickly. ‘Why do you hate Brother Gio so much, Brother Chris?’ ‘I hate him for not sending me medicine, and I will hate him more if he asks you to send me medicine. In sum, I just hate him.’ Chris strokes his bandaged left palm with tender passion, but Gilbert is too young to observe this detail or understand these words.

After this street fight, the two gangs seem to have ceased fire for a while, not only because one of their leaders is injured, but also because the festive spirit is approaching. In the Cathedral of Acre, people busy themselves with the preparation of the biggest event of the year--Christmas. The interior of the church is semi-decorated, and still more flowers and plants are coming. ‘Gilbert, have you understood the ceremony process that I’ve just told you?’ Giovanni bends down to speak in the ear of the absent-minded little knight. Both of them stand beside the alter. Gilbert jumps, and finally turns his attention from revery to the taller knight, ‘Sorry, what did you just say?’ ‘Could you tell me why you can’t take your eyes off the audience seats in the church? Are you expecting someone?’ Giovanni frowns. ‘Brother Gio, do you know if Frater will visit Acre for Christmas?’ Gilbert asks carefully. ‘Yes, the Kingdom of Sicily told so me in a letter. And he will attend the Christmas mass as well.’ On hearing the news, Gilbert reacts dramatically: firstly his jaw drops, then his grin broadens, and finally he raises his hands high up in the air, ‘Hallelujah! What a good tiding!’ ‘Calm down yourself, Gilbert! Shouting is forbidden in the church. And if you don’t want Sicily to be disappointed with you, you have to work hard in preparation, understood? It’s your first time to celebrate Christmas, there’re many things for you to learn.’ ‘I know, I know! I’ll work hard for Frater, and on Christmas I’m going to pay my homage to Frater, and then I’ll become a real knight! I’m so awesome! Everything’s going to be perfect! Kesesese!’ Gilbert laughs happily. ‘Don’t be too proud, Gilbert. You have to work hard to achieve your goal. Remember: no pain, no gain.’ ‘But there’s someone lazier than me! Even though Brother Chris’ wound is getting much better, he never comes to the rehearsal, and he’s going to sing in the choir!’ ‘Christien’s done the mass many times so he doesn’t need much rehearsing, and in fact, I don’t think he wants to see me.’ Giovanni looks at the choir practicing singing in a corner of the church, which is consisted of young boys in white dresses. The most beautiful one is missing, just as he has expected.

The Cathedral of Acre has already been enunciated with devout Christians hours before the bells announce the approach of Christmas and the beginning of the Christmas Midnight Mass. The interior of the cathedral is full of the festive spirit, decorated with myriads of flowers, draperies, hangings, ribbons, and candles, making this spacious sacred place shine with all colours of the solar spectrum. Now the congregation is holding its breath to hear the steps of the approaching holy moment, that is to say, waiting for the mass procession enter into the nave. After the bells strike twelve times, silence remains as if time stood still, so everybody turns their head to the church entrance to look for the priests and professed knights. After several seconds pass, finally, to everyone’s relief, the door opens, and a group of people in surplice solemnly walk in. At the head of them is little Gilbert with silver hair and red-pupiled eyes, swinging from side to side a golden, smoking censer in his hands. The little albino holds his chin high and looks straight ahead, so even the distant audience can tell from his rigid movements and his slightly reddened physiognomy that he is at the moment very nervous. Many in the congregation do know that for this new-born German military order, it must be his first time to perform holy services in such a big event, and accordingly they understand his nervousness and cross their fingers to pray for his success in the debut. Among the understanding, kind-hearted people, is Lovino, the Kingdom of Sicily, who comes all the way from Palermo for this special occasion, and who now sticks his little brown head out from the crowd into the aisle covered with red carpets, which makes him so distinct that even Gilbert’s sweat-filmed eyes cannot prevent the little knight from noticing this great kingdom from afar. Consequently, Gilbert starts short, as if petrified, but Lovino is no malicious Medusa--quite on the contrary, he is the most amiable personage here, so he tries to unlock the magic spell by waving his little hand and smiling sweetly to his little knight, to salute, and to encourage him. However, for Gilbert, this is more like an ignition before an explosion than a mere encouragement, for in response, stuffed of energy, he sets himself off high in the air like a rocket, the censer in his hands swinging like a mad turning wheel, spilling hot incense everywhere. All at once a commotion is caused--people sitting nearby the aisle stand up to run, only to find that within such a dense crowd running is almost impossible, thus some panic is caused as well. At this critical moment, Giovanni, who walks beside the bishop in the middle of the procession, dashes out to catch the censer which now is flying out of Gilbert’s hands, and fortunately, after the catch, he is agile enough to regain his balance in time, and stands upright with the golden censer safely contained in his hands. He makes some effort to restrain himself from panting heavily, and immediately resumes his solemn, imperturbable look to hide his shock of this unexpected episode. Realising what has just happened, Gilbert becomes the most panicked person in the cathedral. He dare not look at Lovino’s face to see his disappointment, so he looks down onto the floor, feeling too shameful for himself to move. Seeing this, Giovanni pats Gilbert’s shoulder from behind to urge him to proceed, otherwise the procession would be blocked even though Gilbert is short and tiny. Accordingly Gilbert moves on, and from now on, he becomes half absent-minded for his sense of guilt, head drooping. Despite this, the following process goes on smoothly, the episode is soon forgotten, the audience watch the performance of the servers quietly, listen to the priests’ sermons attentively, and respond by saying ‘amen’ when their heart is quite touched. However, Gilbert’s tribulations are not yet finished. As a novice, he is to give a speech in front of the holy altar, in the face of the public. It is a narration of the nativity, which should have been already familiar to any christian, so before the mass, Gilbert was so confident that he did not bring the script with him. Now, it is high time for Gilbert’s speech, and for the sake of the sense of guilt he is still sweating heavily as if he had just been fished out from the sea: ‘It was...it was in the year of four before Christ, before Christ was born. (A pause.) On the day when Christ was born, Mary found no place to lie down herself and give birth to her child, so she just...she just lied down on the floor, (some hiss from the audience) and she saw stars shining bright in the sky. Oh, I forget to say, (laugh from the audience) there was an angel coming from the sky to tell her that the child is the savior of mankind. So back to the night when Jesus was born, there were three magicians...(somebody hoots)’ Finally Gilbert’s frustrated voice seems to fade away, and people can hardly hear what the little knight is saying, and neither can they see his mouth moving, for he persists in hanging his head down. Lovino, who sits in the front row for the prerogatives possessed by such a great kingdom like him, clasps his hands all the time to pray for Gilbert, and he even dare not bat his big, radiant eyes lest they would distract his knight, but it seems all his prayers are in vain. Giovanni, who stands righteously and solemnly among the priests and servers, is as anxious as Lovino from the bottom of his heart. ‘Can anyone please do something?’ he asked without producing a sound.

‘--Long time ago in Bethlehem So the Holy Bible say Mary’s boy child, Jesus Christ Was born on Christmas day.’

Suddenly, people hear someone singing. At first, people think it is the ringing sound of a crystal stream, for it is so limpid, so pure; and then, when they realise that it is from above, they take it as the voice of an angel, for it is so beautiful and so unearthly, like a beam of light piercing through thick clouds to warm the earth, to fill everyone’s heart with bliss. While the confused audience are looking about themselves, only Giovanni immediately finds out whence the voice is from--he has heard this voice on every Christmas, and yet he still can hardly believe it--as soon as he hears the singing, he raises his head and looks up to the carved balcony facing the altar where he is standing by, and sure enough, he sees a thin, pale figure stand out of the choir boys, beneath the enormous silver organ. It is Chris who is singing. He is clad in white, laced surplice, his pale countenance becomes more tender in the radiance from the white texture, and his soft, curly blond hair makes him shine like a midnight sun. He is not yet grown up, his delicate human form hardly tells his gender, and therefore he looks more beautiful than any man or woman, and so clinks his sweet, heavenly singing voice. Here he stands, so pure he looks, so angelically he sings, even Giovanni has to admit that on this particular occasion, if Chris were not the messenger from God, he cannot tell who this sweet creature could be. ‘It’s the Knights Templar!’ a little girl cries out happily, and her mother quickly quiets her. Even Gilbert looks up from the floor to the balcony gratefully as if he has found his savior, so continues Chris:

‘While shepherds watched their flocks by night Them see a bright new shining star Them hear a choir sing The music seemed to come from afar.

Now, Joseph and his wife, Mary Come to Bethlehem that night Them find no place to born she child Not a single room was in sight.

By and by, they find a little nook In a stable all forlorn And in a manger cold and dark Mary’s little Boy was born.’

The choir boys standing behind Chris, who are also sweet-looking, though not as beautiful as he, begin to sing harmoniously, and all the people in the cathedral sing along:

‘Hark, now hear the angels sing A new king born today And man will live forevermore Because of Christmas day.’

Now everyone rejoices again, because they take part in such a beautiful choir led by an angel, and has never felt so close to God before.

In many aspects, the midnight mass is as successful as last year, so afterwards everybody goes home happily. However, in a dark corner of the sacristy, Gilbert is found sobbing quietly. Because others are gone, only Giovanni and Chris see him. Chris bends down over Gilbert, beaming innocently as ever, and says cheerfully, ‘Gil, don’t cry, it’s Christmas!’ ‘I’m so stupid, I know nothing of Christmas! I’m not fit for being a knight!’ Gilbert tries to conceal his tearful face by burying it between his crouching knees. Even though Giovanni was unhappy for Gilbert’s failures of performance at tonight’s mass, which he believes are the results of Gilbert’s arrogance and ignorance of his persuasion, his benign heart is touched by the little one’s sadness and frustration, so he attempts to comfort Gilbert: ‘To err is human. If you learn from experience, you’ll be forgiven.’ Nevertheless, Giovanni’s austere tone makes Gilbert feel more miserable, ‘Forgiven? Will I be forgiven by Frater? Perhaps I can’t never become his knight!’ ‘Gio, you frightened little Gil!’ Chris criticises his big rival, and continues to console Gilbert by an even more tender voice, ‘come on, Gil, I’ll show you something. I’m sure you’ll learn Christmas by heart. Don’t worry.’ He winks, stands up, and leads Gilbert to the courtyard of the cathedral. Giovanni does not trust Chris, so he follows them into the cool midnight air. Standing under the purple starry sky, Chris brings out from his pocket a plain stone cup. ‘I’m going to use this to bring us to the night when our Lord Jesus Christ was born. You can come with us if you want, Gio.’ ‘Wait, is this...the Holy Grail?’ Giovanni is astonished. ‘Exactly.’ Chris replies matter-of-factly. ‘I didn’t know you possess it.’ Giovanni says darkly, and quickly makes the sign of the cross. In secret, he feels his stomach aching--how come his rival obtains the most sacred relic in the christian world? ‘You don’t have to know everything,’ smiles Chris. It happens very fast. After a flash of blinding light, the three knights are altogether brought to another time and place. The time is still night, but the environment is changed into a dry, rocky wild land. ‘Look! There’s the bright shining star!’ Chris points to the enormous brilliant star hanging in the eastern sky. ‘What does this mean?’ Gilbert is bewildered by this strange environment. ‘Gilbert, how many times have I told you to read the Bible more carefully?’ Giovanni’s austere look makes Gilbert wince. ‘Relax, Gio. It’s the Holy Night, let’s behold the miracle!’ Chris leads the group to walk in the direction of the bright star. After a while, they see a manger at the top of a hill. ‘Is it...?’ Gilbert is shushed abruptly by Giovanni. The three of them carefully approach the manger on tiptoe. The manger basks in the bright shining star right above, so they can see the scene clearly: Mary has just now given birth to baby Jesus, who is sleeping comfortably in his mother’s arms, and Joseph stands by them, watching the baby with great interest and affection. Noticing people approaching, Mary is alert, but as soon as she sees these people are three good-looking young boys in some kind of cassocks, she smiles and gestures them to come closer. ‘Our Lord Jesus, we’ve come to worship you.’ Both Giovanni and Chris kneel down before the little baby who opens his beautiful eyes to look upon them curiously. After realising who the baby is, Gilbert imitates his brothers to fall on kneels, not without clumsiness. Seeing this, Mary smiles affectionately to the timid little knight, and says, ‘thank you for visiting us in such a bleak winter night. Don’t be anxious, little knight, baby Jesus is very happy to see you.’ Gilbert looks up to see Mary’s smiling face, and sees a mother in her, a mother he has never had, or met, in his life. Suddenly, the albino bursts into tears, ‘oh Mother, Mother!’ Mary pats Gilbert’s silver head, speaks to him in a voice so gentle as if singing a lullaby, ‘little child, you have such beautiful hair. Don’t cry, you’ll be loved.’ It is Gilbert’s first time to be praised by someone for his hair--being an albino, he has been jeered and teased all his life. It is not necessary to describe how happy Gilbert is in seeing the Holy Virgin, and he lays his head upon her knees. Meanwhile, Giovanni finds Chris’ pale face full of tears too. Before the little Lord, the beautiful knight clasps his hands tightly while on his knees--he looks so pious, so humble that he makes this moment divine. Unconsciously, Giovanni wears a smile on his face-- O Silent Night! O Holy Night!

On the next morning, Gilbert is woken up by a familiar voice: ‘Gil, wake up! Are you alright?’ When he opens his eyes, he sees Lovino shaking his shoulder anxiously. Thus he sits up abruptly, ‘Frater! Why are you here?’ ‘Dear Gil! I was worried about you so I came to the morning mass early to see if you’re alright, but I didn’t know you slept in the courtyard over night!’ Lovino exclaims, ‘it is not good! You’ll catch cold!’ His puffing face is on the brink of tears. It is Gilbert’s turn to feel worried too, for his heart will break if he sees Lovino cry. ‘Dear Frater, I’m totally fine, so please don’t cry!’ he holds Lovino’s little hand, faking a smile to comfort him, ‘I spent a whole night with Brother Gio and Brother Chris to worship little Lord Jesus in Bethlehem, you have to know how happy I am! Please don’t worry about me!’ ‘Really?’ Lovino’s watery emerald eyes look into Gilbert’s rubies, and he sees truthfulness in them, ‘good, then. But where are Gio and Chris?’ Both of them look around. Beside the wall of the cathedral, they see Giovanni and Chris lying down there, holding each other’s body closely as if to keep warm and sleep more comfortably. Hearing noises, the two sleepy knights are awakened--it is not difficult to imagine the surprised look on their faces. However, instead of letting out a shriek or kicking each other away, in peace, they exchange morning greetings: ‘Morning, Gio.’ Chris smiles like an angel waking up from his sweetest dream. ‘Good morning, Christien.’ Giovanni blushes. He will never admit that it is Chris’ crystal purple eyes that make his heart beat fast, and he feels a little reluctant to let Chris’ warm body leave his arms when both of them get back to their feet. ‘Christien, wait!’ ‘What?’ Chris quickly turns back to face Giovanni, his huge eyes sparkling. ‘I want to apologise for the wound in your palm. I should have stopped my people hurting you.’ Giovanni smites his handsome brow. ‘It’s not your fault,’ Chris smiles mildly, ‘and I want to thank you for healing me.’ ‘You know the medicine was sent by me?’ ‘Of course, do you forget how long we’ve known each other? And as I’m your archrival, who do you think could know you better than me?’ Smiling mysteriously, Chris briskly wheels around. Without knowing why, Giovanni suddenly feels a special attachment to his rival and comrade, so he instinctively follows Chris’ white robe, which is billowing in the wind like an angel’s enormous wings. Later on, in the Christmas morning mass, people are surprised to see the two long-term rivals stand side by side in the procession, and even exchange friendly looks at intervals during the liturgy. ‘It happens once a year that the two great military orders make a truce. After all, it’s Christmas, it’s time for peace, for forgiveness, and for love.’ Among the audience, some Venetians whisper quietly, and then they shake hands with their Genoese neighbours. As for Gilbert, this time, he has done much better especially in the narration of the nativity. When the mass is done and the cathedral becomes empty, he cautiously kneels down before Lovino, ‘dear Frater, I want to be your knight, but I’m not yet perfect--could you wait until I’m fit?’ ‘I don’t need you to be perfect. Whenever you feel yourself is ready, I’ll be ready to take you as my knight.’ Lovino blushes. ‘I promise it won’t be too long, Frater.’ Gilbert tenderly kisses Lovino’s hand.

(End)

#hetalia #APH #prussia x south italy #prussia x romano #APH Prussia #aph south italy #aph teutonic knights #aph knights templar #aph knights hospitaller #prumano

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tonystarktogo · 7 years ago

Text

Tiny Tony Overlord Part 10

Betaed by the amazing @folklejend within three hours of receiving it because I have no time management skills to speak of and they’re just that wonderful. All remaining mistakes are my own.

Summary: In which Tony realises he’s been thinking about the wrong fandom all along. This isn’t Kim Possible at all—this is some super-duper messed-up Supernatural crap. Also for an uninhabited island, there sure are a lot of bodies on this one…

.On a tiny, uninhabited island in the Bahamas.

What happens next is something nothing, not even nine years of futuristic knowledge, could have prepared Tony for. He’s leaning back and forth, trying to make out the shadows of the creepy helicopters that have been following them like wasps drawn to a glass of lemonade in between the leaves of the trees surrounding them. The choppers appear to slowly lower themselves, though they probably, hopefully, don’t plan to land. By now, the booming noise of their motors is impossible to ignore, as is the wind that blows Tony’s hair out of his face—which is convenient, so that’s something.

The girl is muttering under her breath, but Tony doesn’t pay her any mind. He’s transfixed by the sight of their doom descending down on them in slow-motion—alright, that might be a tad dramatic. They aren’t dead yet. Besides, he’s got Dead-Eyes. If that guy is anything like his future self, he’s damn hard to kill off. As is Tony himself.

Focusing on those reassuring thoughts isn’t as easy as Tony would like it to be. Or maybe he doesn’t trust bland drivel as much as he used to.They had all stopped believing in hope eventually, hadn’t they? Some just held out longer than others.

“We could really use a miracle right about now,” Tony whispers. The words are lost in the sound of rustling leaves, ripped away by the sharp wind, but he feels better for having said them out loud all the same.

Dead-Eyes makes a noise that falls flat before it can become a full word, and Tony turns his head reflexively, unnerved by anything that can make Dead-Eyes break his apparent vow of silence. But the frantic question never makes it past his lips because in that moment, the sky explodes.

The funny thing is, there is no noise. Tony hears the choked yell of the girl as clearly as his own reflexive, “Get down!” Hears branches break and small stones roll as he throws himself onto the ground. There’s a light so bright, even though Tony isn’t looking at its origin, it sears through his closed eyelids, burns itself deep into his skull. And it doesn’t end. Doesn’t let up. Doesn’t give.

Its brightness is loaded with a physical weight, a heaviness that presses down onto Tony’s limbs, his torso. Pushes the air right out of him—and that, that isn’t right. Light isn’t supposed to do that, isn’t supposed to press you to the ground and keep you there. Like a butterfly stuck with needles to a collection. The pressure keeps building up, like lightning racing towards the earth. And then, as sudden as it came, it’s gone again.

Tony blinks. And blinks. And blinks again. He rubs his hands over his eyes, a pointless attempt to soothe the ache, and regain something approaching a clear vision. By the time the bright sparkles in his eyes finally clear up, Tony finds himself still lying on the hard ground, shaky but unharmed. There’s a gentle breeze caressing his skin, leaves rustling above him. A mockery of peace in the aftermath of a devastating storm.

It takes him a long time to realise that the soft, choked sound Vic makes are sobs. And even after the realisation, Stark can’t work out what, exactly, they mean. He can’t remember the last time he saw anyone cry—real tears, tears that don’t stand for pain or manipulation, that is.

“Every morning,” Vic says eventually, her voice as shaky as her hands when she clasps them in front of her.

Stark turns to face her, observes her profile in the dim twilight. There are tears running down her cheeks freely, utterly unashamed of her lapse of control in a way he’s never witnessed Vic be. She’s too guarded to be comfortable expressing emotions. Usually, at least. Wound too tightly to let anyone close. Even him. Especially him.

Barnes told him they were too alike once. Stark doesn’t see it.

“Every morning,” Vic continues, stares straight ahead, not acknowledging his presence at all. She doesn’t appear to see anything at all either. “I get up and I wait for it happen. For the sky to burn down around us. For the world to implode in itself. For the poison that seeps into everything we touch to finally reach the heart and kill .” She giggles, high and perhaps a little unhinged—not that Stark can judge her now, can he?

“But it doesn’t. Even when you’re stuck in standstill, frozen by a pain so terrible, you’d rather rip out your own lungs through your ribcage than take another breath… We’ve all got that one person, don’t we? The one that keeps us from giving up, from lying down and stop fighting. And when we lose that person that we’d do everything for, that we live for… It doesn’t change anything, in the end. Night still falls, and morning still comes. And the world just keeps on turning. No matter how much it hurts. How impossible it seems. We keep talking about it, keep preparing for the worst, keep saying the world could end tomorrow. But it doesn’t .”

She turns then, looks at him, eyes brimming with fresh tears in the wake of devastating understanding. “It never will, won’t it?”

And Stark wishes with all his heart that those words could still bring him hope. That they could feel like anything but yet another punch in the gut, another curse carved into his skin. As it is, Barnes’ hand—cool, and unnatural, and safe—is the only thing that keeps him standing.

As the last stars in Tony’s sight dissipate, so does the memory. Unfortunately, this one is a little harder to shake off. It’s yet another one involving that woman, Victory—and what a bitch it must have been, living in a post-apocalyptic world with that name. Tony remembers her, of course; years spent fighting side by side are hard to erase in full. But it’s curious, isn’t it? How his memories seem to focus on her, when other people, like Natasha and Barnes, were by his side almost as long?

Tony shakes his head, focuses on getting back onto his feet for the time being. Dead-Eyes and the girl they have with them seem to recover as well, though Dead-Eyes looks a little shell-shocked—a downside, Tony assumes, of having enhanced senses in the face of whatever the fucking hell that was.

The girl looks pale as a ghost, sick even. She’s staring blindly at the sky. “They’re gone,” she whispers, horror and relief and something more primal than fear etched into her face.

She’s right, but then Tony has already known that. Even if he hadn’t fully processed it until this very moment. Because the noise, the clear rumpa-rumpa-tab of the helicopters is missing. It’s impossible, Tony recalls his fragmented thoughts when the light show first started. Followed by a less urgent, but just as damning, where lightning strikes, thunder will follow.

But there hadn’t been any thunder, had there? Or at least, none that he’d heard. And so Tony does the only thing he can think of. He tilts his head up and states with a calmness he most certainly doesn’t feel; “Well, that was anticlimactic.”

* * * * *

.In a great hall made of stone.

“Are you sure about this?” Gracie, a young woman who has been with them for less than a year, questions quietly. She isn’t obnoxious or challenging about it—a fact that Epolia appreciates—but doubt, in any shape and form, has the potential to cause great harm. And with how far they have already come, well. There is a delicate balance to these things. It wouldn’t do for a youngling like Gracie to upset the Eye through inexperience and poorly-timed hesitation.

Epolia rises from her chair, a motion that immediately quietens the mumbling as the eyes of everyone present seek out their eldest member. There is no such thing as a leader among them—there can’t be, even though there has to be, for only the Eye shall judge and order, and only Its word shall be their law—but Epolia is the eldest, a position that comes with a certain amount of recognised expertise and respect.

“My dear friends,” she says in a gravelly voice that travels through the entire hall despite her low volume. “Do not fret. There is no cause for worry-“ here, her eyes find Gracie in the crowd, and Epolia holds her gaze steadily, “for our mission has succeeded.”

Her bold declaration is received with the expected excitement, and it pains Epolia to do this, to use their trust in her this way. But it is the only way. She will not allow their faith to waver now, when they have come so far, have achieved so much. Their sacrifices can not, will not be for nothing. Epolia will ensure it.

“How?” Gracie asks, but this time there is no doubt in her eyes, only a growing, desperate hope that reminds Epolia why she had chosen her despite Gracie’s young age all those months ago. “Have you felt the Eye? Have—have we not been found worthy?” Her brown eyes fill with tears at that thought, and Epolia adamantly shakes her head before the girl’s terror can take hold.

“No!” Epolia insists, and that, at least, she knows to be true. “The Eye will approach us when It is ready, and our fidelity will be rewarded. I know this to be true, not because I have been judged, but because I have seen the Heart with my own eyes!”

“The Heart?”

Epolia can’t make out who in the crowd has said the words, but when she meets their gazes one after the other, she reads the same awe in them she has felt herself upon being graced with the Heart’s presence.

“Yes,” Epolia confirms. Remembers her encounter with the Heart, the pain, the suffering, the bloodshed she had seen in them. The cool detachment of something too big to be fully concealed by its human shell. “It was a youth with eyes of the old, a true warrior, leaving shadows and darkness in its wake, just as the legends have told us to expect.” Epolia takes a deep breath, willing her racing heart to calm down at the memory of having to endure the weight of the Heart’s judgement as it deemed her trustworthy, the warmth, the aching familiarity of its touch.

“But more than that, their very presence resonated in my soul. I—“ Epolia’s voice catches in her throat for a moment, unprepared for the wave of emotion her words bring down upon her. “I have felt Luca. I have heard the calls of our children. There is no doubt, the Heart has been returned to us. And soon it will rejoin the Eye. Soon it will turn this earth’s tide, as it was always meant to be.”

Epolia does not bother to suppress the growing smile on her lips, not when she wishes for her fellow believers to find the same comfort in this knowledge that she has been given. The silence is broken by excited chatter, relieved laughs, and the brilliant tears fuelled by hope alone. Epolia’s eyes pick out Gracie in the crowd, and the young girl’s happiness—written all over her face—eases some of the hollow pain she has carried ever since her grandson’s passing.

“Rejoice, my friends, for the Heart has been returned to us,” Epolia whispers, and watches, as she always does.

And with the return of the Heart, darkness shall fall, and the Eye shall be joined by Its Highest, Its Brightest, Its Warmth. And together they shall rise, to purify this bitter earth of its greatest sacrilege. And though the price shall be high, the sacrifice of the faithful shall be rewarded and their peace shall remain untouched, she recites the words she knows by heart in her head.

Epolia smiles. So the end comes upon us then, not in frost or ice, but in flames.

* * * * *

.On a tiny, uninhabited island in the Bahamas.

“One moment they were right there and the next they were just thrown away, like paperweights!” the girl says numbly.

Tony turns his head so fast he’s sure he’ll give himself whiplash. “Wait, you saw it happen?”

“Yeah.” The girl wipes a hand over her face. Takes a loud, deep breath, as though she wants to force her body to calm down through sheer will alone. It seems to be working somewhat, because when she looks up again, her gaze is less frantic, almost centred even. “They just—stopped, in mid air. Like they were bouncing off an invisible wall or something.” She shakes her head with a weak laugh, rubs her eyes. “And then the light thing happened—which hurt like a bitch, what the everloving fuck was that anyways?—and I lost track of them. But I’m guessing they crashed? I don’t know. This shouldn’t be possible. Bloody fucking hell, I saw it and I still don’t believe it!”

Tony shakes his head, even as his mind already runs over the options that might explain what they have witnessed. Unfortunately, almost all of them lead back to a single word Tony used to hate ever since Loki first showed up with his brainwashing stick—and hasn’t grown fonder of in recent years: magic. Of course, there is always a second option, a sarcastic voice in the back of his head reminds him.

“Either I seriously need to overthink my stance on the existence of all-knowing deities or I really, really picked the right island,“ Tony ends up saying, stunned despite himself.

Dead-Eyes doesn‘t appear particularly moved by this declaration. He’s still carefully blinking, too slow to be anything but deliberate. Tony wonders whether his eyesight has recovered yet—enhanced senses have to be a bitch when you’re watching a detonation-without-the-explosion-part first hand—but doesn‘t ask.

“Come on,“ Tony says instead. “Let’s see if there’s anything worthwhile on this island. A boat, for example.” Though their luck can’t be that unreal. But hey, it’s not like they have anything else to do, right? They’re essentially stranded. And if they don’t move now, Tony knows he’s gonna sit down somewhere and not get up any time soon. Hell, just the simple question What the fuck just happened? runs in circles through his mind, so fast it leaves him dizzy and disoriented. A small—or maybe not so small—breakdown might be in his imminent future. Not that that‘s ever stopped him, but it‘s sure to put a damper on things.

Dead-Eyes complies immediately, a reaction Tony has grown used to. He shouldn‘t, he reminds himself, but it‘s become an afterthought at this point. Or maybe it‘s always been, Tony muses as he brushes the dirt off his hands and knees. Dead-Eyes had been his silent shadow long before he‘d woken up in this crazy world, where nothing made sense and no one acted like they should, after all. And maybe that was precisely the reason Dead-Eyes took so little shape and form in his memories—because a shadow was all he had ever been to Tony.

But thoughts like that have no place on an abandoned island that may well be warded against black helicopters, what with the way Tony’s day is going. And that reminder is enough to motivate him to start moving again, despite the protests of his sore muscles and aching limbs.

We‘ll rest when we‘re dead, Tony thinks with a grim smile, and stumbled onward. It‘s not like there are may directions to take anyways. Up sounds like the most logical choice.

“Really?“ the girl mutters somewhere behind him. “Why do you people always have to do things the hard way, seriously’ What the bloody hell is wrong with you, and how come I always end up with the batshit crazy ones anyways?” She continues her tirade quietly—though not as quietly as she seems to think—under her breath.

When Tony chances another glance at Dead-Eyes, he’s certain the guy is rolling his eyes. It’s such a fundamentally un-Dead-Eyes-action, Tony actually takes a double-take. But Dead-Eye’s expression is as even as it ever was. He must have been imagining things. Or projecting, more likely.

Next to him, the girl—and Tony really needs to learn her name at some point, this is starting to get awkward—stumbles. Tony turns, more out of abstract curiosity than an earnest desire to help, to find her expression strangely blank. A startling echo of Dead-Eyes’ regular appearance. It doesn’t look as out-of-place on the girl’s features as it should.

“What’s wrong?” Tony asks because Dead-Eyes definitely won’t. He’s observing the girl with a tilted head, like a small boy might watch a butterfly he’s caught in a marmalade glass. And okay, that’s a disturbing comparison to make, even for Tony.

“I think you chose the wrong island,” the girl deadpans, her gaze fixated on something behind Tony.

Tony whirls around, the familiar thrill of threat, attack, chase racing down his spine. He doesn’t know what he expects—a gun, a knife, a machete aimed straight at his throat—but what he sees definitely isn’t it.

Without Tony noticing, they’ve reached a high point that allows them to oversee most of the grounds—the ones that aren’t covered completely by trees and bushes, that is—only there isn’t just the expected sand, rock and grass.

“I thought you said the island was uninhabited?“ the girl asks surprisingly even. Perhaps she has reached her limit of shocks per day, and is now simply accepting the twists heading her way, without processing the information or reacting to them at all.

That must be nice. Tony wishes he could say the same for himself. “It is,“ he winds up answering mechanically. Followed by an unhelpful—though entirely appropriate—“Well, fuck.“

* * * * *

.On the helicarrier.

Fury watches as two of his best agents stare down at the files laid out in front of them. He’s survived a damn long time in the business he’s chosen for a reason, which is why he’s entirely unsurprised when Barton leans back in his chair, obnoxiously chews on his gum—and Fury has no idea how he got a hold of the damn thing—and drawls, “Sooooo, what’s those numbers supposed to be?”

Thanks to many years of dealing with men way more irritating than Barton—politicians, lawyers, Stark, just to name a few—Fury manages not to throttle the man. He’s well-aware that Barton is smart, certainly above average. But as good as Barton is at putting things together at the drop of a hat, he’s even better at dumbing himself down. And turning important meetings into games for his own amusement. And giving Fury just cause to plot his more violent retirement options.

Yes, Barton is a man of many talents indeed. Luckily, Romanoff has a habit of keeping Barton’s most irritating habits in check—if only because she lacks the patience to put up with them.

“So there was a energy spike so high it was picked up all-around the globe.” Romanoff taps a finger onto one of the many diagrams that have been the cause of Fury’s latest migraine. “A spike which originated from a tiny island we didn’t even know existed.”

Well, they had known it existed, theoretically. The island was in their records somewhere—Fury had checked, the last thing they needed was a blot of land appearing out of nowhere—it was just that, until now, no one cared.

“This spike that could be recorded everywhere,” Romanoff continues with an unhappy curl of her lips, “happened only minutes before Iron Man was attacked. A couple of hours before White went rogue. And we’re only hearing about this now?”

Fury’s scowl deepens. Truth is, he’s thought the exact same thing—coincidences don’t happen in their line of work, and a signal like that, while obvious, couldn’t be missed. “The techies recorded it just fine, only we were in the middle of our black-out and missing Stark case,” Fury growls. “And then you developed that charming traitor theory of yours, which meant we were too busy vetting our own men to get the information through to the right people as fast as it should have.”

Barton raises his eyebrows. “That’s awfully convenient.”

If possible, Fury’s expression darkens even more. “Indeed.”

“You know, this could be the signal that activated White.” Romanoff tilts her head. “She might not have been the only one either.”

“It’s not my first day in the bureau, Romanoff!” Fury snaps. “I have people on that already. But they can only interpret the data we already have. I need eyes on the scene. I need the two of you to get your asses onto that fucking island and tell me something I don’t know. Like what the fuck caused such a massive spike and who the fucking hell is behind it!”

And Fury swears, if this is another magical alien letting them run around and chase their own tails, he’s not going to hand this one off to his own people’s court. He’s gonna shoot the fucking bastard himself.

“Take a quinjet and get moving,” Fury barks when neither Barton nor Romanoff make a move to get their asses going. “Dismissed!”

Barton grins brightly—which causes Fury’s head to throb in advance—but Romanoff pulls him out of the office before he can get someone killed. Possibly himself.

It’s only after the door falls shut behind the troublesome duo—and damn, but why do his best agents always have to be such a fucking hassle?—that Hill, who’s been standing quietly by his right side, clears her throat. “Are you sure about this, boss?”

Fury grimaces. The blunt truth that he despises more than anything is that he isn’t sure about anything. Hasn’t been since Stark dropped off the map. And with good reason. The last time the man went missing, he blew himself out of a terrorist cell, revolutionised clean energy and turned into a vigilante with multi-million-dollar resources. Just the thought of not having eyes and ears on Stark makes Fury itchy. That he also had a traitor under his nose and everything has gone pear-shaped without any apparent reason is almost negligible at this point.

“No,” Fury grumbles after a moment of careful consideration. Hill is a remarkable woman and an even better agent, but he knows better than to trust in that. Still, as his second-in-command she deserves certain insights—especially regarding the Avengers. “But I’d rather have Romanoff and Barton causing havoc on some island than in my own backyard. They’re wildcards, Hill. And they’re pissed. You leave them alone too long to stew, and they’ll blow up in your faces, probably bring the whole agency down with them too.”

Hill furrows her eyebrows in consideration. “You saw the footage, though. You really think there’s anything they’ll be able to tell in person that we don’t already know?”

Fury shrugs. “If there is, they’ll find it.” But that isn’t the point. “Besides, I had to clean up your mess somehow, didn’t I?”

Hill tightens her mouth at that, clearly displeased, but she doesn’t disagree.

She better not. Really, suspending Romanoff, Barton, and Rogers? Giving them endless free time, a dangerously capable AI, and a reason to start a little private hunt? It’s a recipe for disaster if Fury has ever seen one. No, those two are far better off investigating some messed-up freak shit as far from the Stark tower as he can reasonably get them, that’s for sure.

* * * * *

.Still on the same tiny, uninhabited island in the Bahamas.

Tony doesn’t know how long he stands there, frozen. Staring at—he doesn’t know. Except, that’s a lie, isn’t it? He does know. He’s seen sights like this before, and with every time he blinks, the view changes, like a new layer or filter has suddenly been slipped over his eyes. Different faces, different backgrounds. Sand. Grass. Rocks and stones. Children. Adults.

“Stark?”

“Stark!”

A hand grasping his forearm. He whirls around, knife at ready. This close up, it’s personal.

Victory stares at him. A little wide-eyed. A little scared.

He doesn’t lower the knife.

“Tony.” She says it softly, like a prayer. He wants to laugh at that—the gods are all dead, there’s nothing left to pray for—but he can’t find his voice.

“You can’t help them, Tony.” She’s gentle. As though she’s talking to a child. Victory hates children. “They’re gone.”

He isn’t listening.

Victory closes her eyes in defeat.

His hand—holding the knife, don’t let go—trembles.

“Barnes!”

It’s always the same.

He’s been wrong, Tony admits to himself, with the sort of black humour one might show before his own execution—before the execution of someone else. This isn’t a Kim Possible episode at all. This is some next level Supernatural shit if he’s ever seen one.

The small clearing Tony is staring down at is covered in bodies. And not the skeletons of some ancient sacrifice either. They’re fresh, can’t be more than a few days old. Still so easily recognisable as people, even from where he’s standing. Children.

“Jesus, how many bodies are there?” Tony whispers, unable to keep the horror out of his voice. He should be used to this, he inwardly scolds. He used to be better at shrugging these things off.

“Forty-two,” Dead-Eyes replies immediately, eyes sharper than they’ve been in a while. He’s standing stock-still, but there’s a faint restlessness in the way his gaze shifts from one unmoving body to another.

“That’s…oddly specific,” the girl comments from where she’s leaning against a tree.

“Yeah.” Tony takes in the way the bodies are lying in a circle. The cut throats, the blood. He’ll have to take a closer look to know for sure, but it looks like these children—fuck, they look about as old as he currently is—were killed here. More importantly, they didn’t fight, didn’t run. The blood is very localised, only soaking the grounds where the bodies fell. Maybe they were held in place. Maybe they were willing. “I'm no expert on the occult, but does this look like a ritual to you?”

“You think someone sacrificed these kids?” The girl swallows. “What kind of ritual would include something like this? And who’d be crazy enough to actually do it?”

Tony grimaces. Unfortunately, he knows people who’d do a lot more than this to accomplish what they want. It’s not a short list either. “Nothing good,” he promises darkly. He’s never been a fan of magic, and if there’s any brand of it that has ever deserved his every prejudice, it’s blood magic.

His hands are clenched into tight fists at his sides when Tony remembers—and how could he forget in the first place? Has he really gone this soft already? Been lulled into a false sense of security because the danger isn’t imminent yet?—the haunting words of that strange, old lady he met at the airport.

“Don’t worry, you will find the answers you seek on the grounds of the bloodless children.”

The words echo in his head. Mock him. Mock the sight of countless children slaughtered for nothing. And Tony—Tony doesn’t think. Stumbles forward, down the hill, toward the bodies that have just been left here. Discarded. Forgotten. He’s seen this all before, and he can’t stop.

He can’t stop.

There’s someone yelling, shouting his name, and Tony can’t tell if it’s real or a memory. Can’t tell if any of this is real. There are footsteps right behind him, a steady presence shadowing him—Dead-Eyes, Tony knows, because this is the only thing he knows, the only thing that’s always, always real.

Dead-Eyes doesn’t stop him though, so Tony doesn’t stop either. Walks even faster. Stumbles. Sinks to his knees besides a body, a little boy with hands as small as his own. Tony doesn’t reach out, but he wants to. Despite the smell, and the insects, and he’s long gone but Tony wants to—

You’ll find the answers you seek.

The air is heavy, saturated with a pressure Tony has felt before. But this time, he doesn’t fight it, welcomes it even. Feels as though he’s floating away, is being pulled into different directions, all over the place, and this weight is the only thing pinning him down. The weight and Dead-Eyes’ heavy breathing.

“If only we could turn back time.” Victory laughs, shakes her head at her own folly. Stark wonders whether she realises that it is this light-heartedness he admires the most in her. “Would solve all our problems, wouldn’t it?

“That’d be easy. Convenient,” Barnes speaks up with a voice as unused as Stark’s first name. “S’not how the world works.”

There’s something sharp in the glance he throws Victory, something Stark notices but doesn’t quite understand that passes between them.

He shrugs, reloads his gun. They have people to kill.

Barnes and Vic fall into step behind him like he knew they would.

Tony stares at the boy’s face. He must have been cute, he thinks, when he was alive. Children always are.

“It’s everywhere. In the water, the earth, the air. We can’t fight this.”

“But we can draw it out.”

“What would be the point?”

“To find a cure. A better way. To put a stop to this. Save the world. That’s our job, remember?”

“Save the world for whom?”

He’s been promised answers, even if he hadn’t realised. Hadn’t taken the woman seriously at the time. Because the prospect of someone else knowing had been too daunting, too terrifying to consider. Now Tony can’t stop wondering which questions exactly he’s supposed to get answers to.

You’ll find the answers you seek.

It’s nothing but a whisper. A product of his own imagination. And like a key that has finally been put into the correct lock, Tony feels the words slide through his mind, bypassing walls and safety measures he hadn’t been aware of existed.

And with a soft click, the door opens.

“Thanos was the catalyst, not the cause. We were only ever going to be brought down by an enemy from the inside. But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

Barnes’ gun doesn’t waver. “You killed Captain America.”

Neither does Stark’s. “You killed Iron Man.”

Thoughts? :)

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littlebitoffanfic · 8 years ago

Text

Never Lost

Fandom: IT Character: Henry, Vic, Belch Relationship: Henry/reader Request: Can you do another henry bowers one where the readers there when his dads shooting at the ground (in the movie) and the reader runs over to him after to see if hes okay and he pushes her away and accidently hurts her and she runs away from him? Like, that’s the reasons Henry kills his dad is because he thinks he has nothing else to live for. You were lying on the grass just outside Henrys house while the boys played with his dads gun. You had already told them they shouldn’t be doing it but none of them listened. You knew how bad Henrys dad could be and, to be honest, you didn’t want to see Henry hurt again. You had started to drift into a light sleep under the warm rays of the sun, your mind only being kept away by the sound of the gun every now and then. You heard a cat meow somewhere and the boys talking but didn’t think anything of it until you allowed your head to lazily roll to the side and see a rather scared looking Belch holding a car on the podium they had been shooting cans off of and Henry pointing the gun at it. “No!” You called out, turning to scramble to your feet when another voice filled the air and you saw Henry freeze in spot. His back was only slightly to you and you saw his eyes widen as his father came out of the house. You stayed where you were, having a deep fear and hatred for Henrys father and always trying to keep as far away from him as possible. Henrys father had a very nasty habit of trying to destroy your relationship with Henry. You had been dating for a little over a year now but had known each other since you were a child and been friends from the first moment you toddled up to him. Your friendship had blossomed into a relationship when he kissed you out of the blue one March night you had been inseparable ever since. But his dad didn’t like this. He would sneak ideas into Henrys head when you weren’t around. He would tell him you had no feelings for him, that no one could ever care for him. “I was just cleaning it.” You heard Henry mumble, holding out the gun to his father. He had shrunken into himself, his head low and his shoulders hunched. You wanted to run over and wrap your arms around him but fear had glued you to the spot. You looked over at Vic and Belch, who looked just as on edge as you felt. Henrys father mumbled something you didn’t quite catch and your attention was drawn back to him as he turned to walk away. You let out a sign of relief until he twisted back and held the gun up. Gun fire filled the air and you let out a cry of fear which only stopped when you saw he was firing at Henrys feet, missing them by mere inches. Henry became jumpy, filching but trying not to move as he held his hands up, protecting his face. “See how the paper man crumbles.” His father called to you, looking directly at you as he motioned the gun at Henry. You glowered back at him, trying to stop the tears coming to your eyes. But all he did was laugh and walk back into the house. Once he was a little closer to the house, you heard Henry let out a whimper, still standing with his hands in front of his face. You knew his friends would do nothing. They couldn’t comfort him for fear of facing homophobic reactions. You raced forward, throwing your arms around him. You wanted to comfort him, to tell him it was all going to be okay. To tell him you loved him. He meant the world to you and you to him. You weren’t going to let that asshole get in the way of you two. You wanted him to wrap his arms around you and hold you until he felt strong enough to pull away. He did that often. He pulled his strength from you. And you knew Vic and belch wouldn’t say anything. You were pretty sure they could walk in on the two of you in any way and it wouldn’t reach anyone else’s ears. But that didn’t happen. In fact, you weren’t really sure what happened. He pushed you away slightly, before full force pushing you back. You wondered if he had maybe punched you by the force in which you were thrown back from him. You managed to look at him as he did so, and his eyes went on you, they were on his father. But due to the new holes in the ground, your heel caught in one and you fell backwards. As you hit the ground, you put your hands out to try and stop yourself, but you felt something sharp penetrate your skin before your head hit the ground, scrapping across a rock. Your ears started to buzz as you blinked wildly, tears running down your cheek. Pushing yourself up, you looked at your hand to see a massive shard of glass had cut across your palm, blood pouring from the new wound. Your other hand reached up to touch your head and you instantly felt the blood. Someone appeared in front of you and you hoped it would be Henry. But it wasn’t. “Geez [y/n]. you need to get to a hospital!” Vic said in shock, his eyes on the glass in your hand. You knew you had to get the glass out, so you grabbed it and pulled it out the wound, letting out a cry of pain as you did. “I told you that you’d hurt that girl!” You heard Henry and you glanced over to see he was standing at the door, pointing at you. He had seen the whole thing. You looked up at Henry, who had stopped shaking. He stood, frozen to the spot, his eyes wide as he looked at you. His mouth was slightly open in shock. A part of you wanted to scream at him, to tell him to help you up, to take you to the hospital. But then it hit you. He had pushed you away. He had hurt you. Maybe not intentionally but he wasn’t making any effort to show it was an accident, to tell you he was sorry. Tears ran down your cheek and joined with the blood on your cheek. Looking away from Henry, you stumbled to your feet with the help of Vic. Belch seemed to be in as much shock as Henry. “Ive got to go.” You mumbled to Vic before turning away from the group and walking down the drive way. You could feel your whole body shaking as your tried not to cry. You could feel eyes on your back, but you didn’t know if it was Henry, Vic or Belch. Or all three. ---------time skip------------------------- You had gone to the pharmacy first, only because you knew Gretas dad would probably be able to take care of you without you having to go to the hospital. He gave you a shot in case the glass had anything nasty on it and cleaned your wound, which he said should heal nicely without stiches since it was a clean cut and not nearly as deep as it looked but you had to keep it bandaged up. He did his best with your head, saying it was just a graze but if you felt lightheaded or if you felt like you were going to pass out, to get help immediately in case you had a concussion. He gave you some drugs for the pain but nothing strong before letting you go. You were very thankful that you were close friends with his daughter, because it cost you nothing. Just before you left, he called you back, asking you how you had gotten your cuts. When you didn’t answer and tears welled in your eyes, he asked if it was Henry. This took you by surprise and you shook your head, saying Henry had just been trying to protect you. Realising what you had said, you left in a hurry. You were walking home, your mind racing. You weren’t angry with Henry, although you were very hurt. He didn’t mean for you to fall. You wondered if it was because you tried to help him too early. His father had still been around and had seen what happened. Maybe if he had accepted your affections, it would have led to another altercation, possibly involving you. Then your mind fell on the words Butch had yelled. “I told you that youd hurt that girl.” He had spoken about you before. He had told Henry that he was a danger to you. You shook your head. He wasn’t a danger to you. He would never intentionally hurt you. Ever. He had proven that countless times. He had went out of his way to make sure you were safe. Arguments, though rare, never ended with punches or even the slightest pain. He just wanted you to be happy, so would often cave in to you. You tried to think of a time you were actually frightened of him or scared he would hurt you. But nothing came to mind. Before you realised, you found yourself on Henrys drive, walking up. You needed to see him. You needed to talk to him. “[y/n]?!” Vic called you, drawing your attention to the car, which him and Belch were leaning against. You didn’t know why you were surprised that they were still here. You just hadn’t counted on anyone being here except Henry. “You alright?” Belch asked warily as you approached. “Yeah. Nothing serious.” You raised your hand to your head, but smiled. But then you saw something in their eyes. Fear? “What?” “Its henry. Something wrong. Like really wrong.” Vic nodded to the house. You were off like a gun, bolting to the front door. Was he in danger? Was his father beating him again? It had to be bad if they were this worried. You opened the door carefully, your eyes falling on Henrys back. As you crept quietly inside, you noticed something odd. He was standing directly behind his dads seat, his father sitting in said seat. But his fathers legs were shaking and you saw his hands reaching up to grasp at something. At Henrys face. His knife had been lost ages ago, something about falling down the side of a hill, but you didn’t know why. You knew Henry had taken a beating for it though. “Shes gone.” Henry mumbled, breathing hard as you ventured closer. The sight you saw made you gasp in horror. Butch was bleeding from the weapon in his neck. Henry was holding his knife into the side of his father neck and Butches movements slowly began to stop before he slumped down. Dead. “Shes gone.” Henry let out a sob, his eyes squeezed shut as he shook his head, his hands shaking. “’Cause of you.” He growled at the now corpse. “Henry?” You made your presents known, for fear of making a noise and him lunging at you with the knife. Henry froze, his eyes wide but unseeing as he stared straight ahead, as if listening to see if it was just in his mind. “Love?” You called gently to him, using a nickname that you knew he adored. It was something sweet that he craved, loving it so much that he didn’t even mind you calling him it in school. “[y/n]?” He whispered, looking at you. He had blood splattered on his face as his gaze switched to the TV, which was only playing static. He let go and backed away from the body, shaking his head. “No, no, not her.” He mumbled to himself as you took a hesitant step forward. “[y/n]?” He said again, looking at you. He looked lost, broken and scared. you felt a strong pull of protection as you looked at him. You knew it was only a matter of time before his father went too far, not that anyone in Derry cared. They wouldn’t care that Butch Bowers was dead. Many would agree he would beat his son black and blue then go drinking. Henry would have no chance if the town thought he had been killed in cold blood. Henry needed someone to protect him for once. Not to validate his actions, but to protect him. “i-i-i-“ He trailed off, looking to the body and back to you. “H-H-He. “He attacked me.” You say, your voice strong and sable, unlike Henrys who was shaking like his hands. “He attacked me with a broken bottle. And you thought he was going to stab me, so you ran up behind him with your knife. You only meant to stab him in the shoulder to give me time to get away but he moved and your knife went into his throat. Vic and Belch saw the whole thing.” You didn’t drop his gaze as you spoke, telling him your plan. A very, very small part of you was screaming that you were letting a murderer get off the hook, but then your eyes fell on the cigarettes burns on his arms, the bruises on his skin and the permanent scaring. A fresh start. That’s what he needed. And that’s what you would give him. “I never meant to hurt you.” HE whispers. “I know.” You smiled, but your eyes flicked to the knife and you couldn’t help but shudder at the blood. Henry saw this. He looked down at the knife in his hands, and the blood. The knife dropped from his hand, clattering on the floor by his feet. You moved forward, pausing every couple of steps to make sure everything was still okay. Once you were close enough, you wrapped your arms around his neck. He instantly responded, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulled you tight against his body. “I thought I lost you.” He whispered as he buried his head in your neck. You could feel the blood smearing on your skin, but you supressed a shudder. “No, baby. Im still here.” You ran your finger up the back of his neck and back down, feeling his hair. “I love you.” Henry whispered, his voice breaking as you froze. Neither of you had ever said the cursed words to each other before. Not even when you had held him as cried from beatings. Not when he fucked you into his mattress or when he made love to you in your bed. Never. You had always just assumed he couldn’t say it. He hadn’t known love before you so you just assumed he wouldn’t be able to say it. You pulled back, looking at him dead in the eyes. “Really?” You asked, your heart beating hard in your chest. Henry nodded, his eyes showing some signs of embarrassment for showing his feelings but you didn’t care. “I love you, too.” You threw yourself at him, feeling him stumble a little but he held you, letting out a small chuckle. “I love you, I love you so much.” You mumbled into his neck, feeling fiercely protective over him. Tears ran down your cheek and onto his neck, but you didnt care as you mumbled your love for him again and again. The words soothed him and you felt his shaking stop. His hands no longer clutched at your sides but now started to run up and down your spin as he held you. “We should go and speak to the guys.” You pulled back, wiping your tears away. You pulled your sleeves down to cover your hand and you used your sleeve to wipe the blood off his face. Henry moved forward quickly to smash his lips to yours in a needy but passionate kiss. You could tell it was his way of saying ‘thank you’, of saying ‘sorry’ and that he loved you. Neither of you knew what would happen when you stepped outside that door. You had no doubt that the guys would back you up, and you could say you had been scared and ran to the pharmacy, who would verify you were there and it was because Henry had protected you. No one would care, it was just how Derry was. In a couple of months, everything would blow over and everything would be forgotten. Just like the children. Whatever uncertainties that Henry was feeling vanished when he kissed you, knowing you would be by his side through it all.

#IT #Henry Bowers #henry x reader #henry bowers x reader #henry/reader #henry bowers 2017 #reader insert

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soaimagines · 8 years ago

Text

Roses 🥀

Request: Imagine Jax finding roses on his ex-wifes counter when he goes to pick up their son.

This is the one I struggled with so much. I had it all planned in my head like a fucking movie but when I tried to write it i forgot all words. lol. I hope you guys like it. 💕

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You look very pretty mommy.” You smiled down at your son, who was watching you lovingly from his spot on the bed. “Thank you baby.” After one final coat of mascara you stepped back and looked at your reflection. Not bad. You were just lifting your favourite perfume when you heard a knock on the door. Abel squealed in excitement and you laughed. “Why don’t you go let daddy in?” You suggested as you sprayed yourself with the perfume. He hopped off the bed and ran to the front door while you finished getting ready.

The front door swung open and Jax grinned at the sight of his son, bouncing round excitedly. “Daddy!” He squealed. Jax leant over him and pressed a kiss to Abels forehead. “Hows my boy?” “Good!” Abel giggled. He took hold of Jaxs hand and dragged him inside. Jax pushed the door closed behind him and looked around the house. “Mommy getting ready?” Jax asked. “Yeah, she looks pretty daddy.” Jax smiled and ruffled his sons hair. “She always does.” Something in the dining room caught his eye and he let Abel run over to his crayons while he stepped into the room. In the centre of the dining table was two dozen perfect red roses, wrapped delicately in white tissue paper and sitting in a tall vase of water. The flowers were huge and dramatic, a grand gesture of romance and Jax wondered who was sending his ex wife such gifts. Jax glanced back in the hallway and when he found it empty he stepped closer to the table. Next to the roses sat an envelope and he lifted it carefully and slid the card out. He checked the hallway again before reading the hand written note inside the card. ‘A little something to let you know you’re on my mind, always. I can’t wait to see you tonight. x’ He frowned as he read over the note and couldn’t help the pang of jealousy that coursed through him. He read over it once more before sliding the card back into the envelope and placing it back where he had first found it. Abel ran back into the room, a picture he had drawn in his hands. Jax inspected the art, an expression of admiration on his face as Abel beamed up at him and he tried to stop the thoughts form running through his mind. For three months now you had been divorced, and before the papers were finalised you had been separated for the better part of two years. So why was he jealous? This wasn’t the first guy you had dated since him, surely. But Jax had never seen it. You had always kept your relationships private, not even letting your dates meet Abel. None of them had been serious, just casual flings to fill the hole in your heart. And its not like Jax hadn’t been with other woman. All he had to do was ask and he could have a dozen girls in his bed. So why was this wave of jealousy washing over him? Why now, after all this time, did he feel sick at the thought of another man being with you. You, the woman he had loved for so long. The mother of his child and the love of his life. The decision to divorce had been mutual. You loved each other, of course you did, but somewhere along they way and amongst all the chaos that surrounded him the two of you had lost the spark. There was no real fighting, no bad feelings towards each other. You had wanted him to move on and be happy and Jax had wanted the same for you. But now the idea of it actually happening scared him. Maybe a part of him still hoped that you would find your way back to him one day. Abel giggling brought his mind back into focus and he pushed the thoughts out of his mind.

You chewed on the side of your lip and looked at your reflection in the full length mirror once more. It had been a long time since you had been on a date and after inspecting your outfit you finally felt more confidant. You wore a black off-the-shoulder dress that hugged you in all the right places and ended a couple of inches above your knees. Your hair hung loosely down your back, with a few strands framing your face. After watching several make-up tutorials on youtube you had achieved the look you were going for.You had perfectly groomed your eyebrows and perfected a smokey eye with a sharp wing of eyeliner. Tonight you had gone for a fairly simple pair of false lashes, long and sleek rather than dramatic. A thin layer of foundation and a light blush and you were done, leaving your lips fairly natural to draw all attention to your eyes. You took a deep breath and smoothed down your dress. Not bad. You thought to yourself with a final glance at your reflection. You quickly slid into your heels and left the bedroom, feeling slightly guilty to have left Jax waiting. You walked elegantly across the hallway and joined them in the living room. “Wow momma!” Jax looked up at Abels words and saw you smiling at your son. He gulped, his previous feelings only becoming stronger as he took in your appearance. “You look amazing.” Jax said, his voice soft and sincere. A blush came to your cheeks and you rolled your eyes. “I always do.” Jax chuckled and nodded in agreement. “You do.” You smiled and ruffled Abels hair before moving to the sofa and reaching for your handbag. Jax couldn’t help but watch as you leant over the sofa to lift your bag and his breath caught in his throat as the dress rode up your thighs slightly. You swung your bag on your shoulder and checked the contents, making sure you had everything you would need before turning back towards Jax. “Thank you for taking him.” “Anytime.” Jax smiled. “Big date tonight, huh?” He hoped his question sounded casual and by your response he knew he hadn’t been caught prying for information. “Something like that.” You said with a shrug. “He picking you up?” You shook your head. “Said i’d meet him there. Its still early days.” Jax nodded, knowing that you wouldn’t have wanted Abel to meet him just yet. “You wanna ride?” You looked at him and laughed. “My ex husband and our son dropping me off for a date? I think I’ll pass.” Jax chuckled and stood and placed his hand down on Abels shoulder. “Well better not keep the guy waiting.” You knelt down and pulled Abel into a hug before kissing his cheek softly. “Be good for Daddy. I love you.” “I love you too Mommy.” You straightened and smiled at Jax as he gently moved Abel towards the door. “Have a good night, darlin.” He placed his hand on your waist and leant in,pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Thank you Jax.” You smiled at him and he nodded before walking out of the house, Abel in front of him and his backpack in his hand. You watched them leave with a smile before grabbing your keys and heading for you car.

“Afternoon, lass.” You smiled at Chibs and kissed his cheek before Abel wrapped his arms around his legs. “‘Ello little man.” Chibs chuckled and ruffled his soft blond hair. “Jax around? He asked me to meet him here” You asked, scanning your eyes across the Teller-Morrow lot. “Aye, he’s inside.” Chibs nodded towards the clubhouse. “I can watch Abel for ye.” “Thank you.” You smiled and waved at Tig and Juice who were leaning against the office smoking. This morning you had received a text from Jax, asking you to meet him at the clubhouse this afternoon. You hadn’t thought much of it, assuming he wanted to let you know he was heading out of town for a few days and wouldn’t be around. It was a Sunday afternoon and the sun was shining down warmly as you walked across the lot. It was so warm in fact that you wore your denim cut off shorts and a white tank top, your hair piled on top of your head in a messy bun and converse on your feet. Jax was sitting at the bar when you entered and he didn’t see you you come in. He had a cigarette pressed between his fingers and a beer in front of him as he hunched over a notebook. “Hey,” You called across the room. Jax looked up and smiled once his eyes found you. You walked up to him and he opened his arms. You stepped into them and pressed a friendly kiss to his cheek before sliding onto a barstool next to him. “Thank you for coming, darlin.” He slid off his seat and stepped behind the bar. He reached into the refrigerator and pulled out a beer and handed it to you. “What did you wanna talk about?” You asked as you accepted the beer. Jax took a deep breath and walked back to his stool, trying to find the words to start. “I keep thinking about the other night.” You frowned and tilted your head to the side, your eyebrows furrowing together. “At my house?” Jax nodded and ran his hand through his hair before looking at you. “You’ve been seeing this guy a lot.” “Yeah, thats usually what happens when you date someone.” You said. Jax smirked before his face turned serious. “Is it serious?” “Jax, what is this about?” He sighed and ran his hand over his face. “I saw the roses on your table.” You watched him as he spoke and when he didn’t continue you frowned. “And?” “And it made me jealous. I know you’ve been with other guys but I didn’t know you were going to get serious with anyone.” “Jax we’re divorced. I can-“ “Let me finish.” You paused but nodded, allowing him to speak. “I spent the last few days thinking about you. When I signed those papers I never really thought about you being with someone else. Really being with someone else. It was selfish of me but I always thought we would end up together and seeing those roses and how.. happy you looked made me realise that that was never going to happen.” He paused to check how you were taking this and when he saw your calm expression he continued. “I didn’t know how to be a dad and a husband without sacrificing the club. I know now that what we had.. It cant happen again. I love you so much (y/n), I do. But I know that me wanting you to wait until Ive figured out how to do this is selfish. I know that now.” You watched him closely as he spoke, watched the raw emotions in his eyes. He had been your everything once and you fought back tears, determined not to cry as he opened up to you. “Im sorry that I didn’t appreciate you when I had you, (Y/n). You were a good old lady, a good wife. You’re a good mother. You deserve to be happy and Im not going to stand in the way of that.” You smiled, unable to stop a tear from escaping and rolling down your cheek. You stood and wrapped your arms around him, burying yourself in his neck. He held you close and stroked your back as you gathered yourself. “I love you, Jackson.” You whispered. He smiled and nodded as you pulled away. “I know.” You wiped your cheeks and sat back on the stool, taking a much needed swig of your beer. “But if this guy hurts you, I swear to god I will kill him. I already know where he lives.” You groaned, but your eyes were playful and a smirk appeared on your lips. “Why you gotta ruin a moment like that?!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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cutaepatootie · 8 years ago

Text

A fallen bookmark on a Thursday afternoon

Pairing: Jungkook | Reader Genre: ANGST, Fluff and soft Smut Word Count: 19k

He came to you like the air comes into the train station after the fast arriving of the machine.

It comes fast and unexpected, making you hoist your head to look at the long vehicle and the people inside. It is so fast you can’t even distinguish the different wagons.

As the train comes to a stop, the wind that it creates plays with your hair, leaving you breathless.

That’s how Jeon Jungkook came into your life.

“I’m so done with this shit,” Paula complained as you climbed down the escalator. “I don’t have enough time for anything.”

You smiled as you adjusted your backpack.

Paula and Rachel were one of your best friends at University. The three of you had a lot in common and you always found something to gossip or laugh about. Since you met them the first day of uni, two years ago, you knew you were going to love them. And you did.

“Teachers suck,” Rae complained, sighing and turning left to go to the platform where you had to take the train. “They think we don’t have anything to do besides their own subject.”

“Yeah, they tend to forget about the fact that we have another four fucking subjects,” you laughed, making Paula and Rae laugh too.

You remember feeling happy that afternoon, despite the huge amount of studying you had to do when you would arrive home. Maybe it was because you had started your practices at the hospital as a nurse that week, or maybe it was because of the incredible view you had of the majestic business towers of the centre of Seoul from the train station. Maybe you were happy because you were with your two friends laughing and venting about the teachers. Maybe you were just happy.

As the train made its entrance into the station you remember hearing a loud noise, basically because it made you jump in your feet.

“What the fuck?” your murmured, bringing a hand over your chest, where your heart was beating rapidly.

You turned around to search for the origin of the noise as the wild wind the train created played with your hair, making it fly all over the place.

When you managed to put back your rebel strands of hair into place, your eyes landed on the source of the noise. The loud sound had been made by the hard wheels of a skate making contact with the ground. Your eyes slowly travelled from the wheels of the skate up to the boy who was on top of it. His eyes were fixed on his mobile phone, engrossed in the music that was playing through his headphones.

You were left breathless as the boy with dark brown hair passed by your side, creating a new wave of wind that made your hair fly again.

“Y/N?” Paula asked, waving a hand in front of you.

You snapped and tore your eyes away from the boy, who had stopped a few metres away and had planted a feet on the skate so it would flip upwards and magically land into his hands.

“Hmh, what?” you asked, bating your eyes innocently, waiting for the people to get off the train so you could get in. Your cheeks turned red as you saw your two friends looking at you. “What?”

“And I thought I was the indiscreet one,” Rae laughed.

You blushed even more when you realised that you hadn’t torn your eyes away from the skater boy for nearly an entire minute, your eyes cautiously following his every move.

“I heard a loud noise and I got scared, okay?” you tried to cover yourself up.

“Oh, c'mon Y/N. Don’t lie to us, you were eating the boy with your eyes.” Paula laughed as you stepped into the wagon.

You softly punched her arm. “Like you didn’t get scared because of the noise.”

“I did, but I didn’t checked the boy as if my life depended on it.” Paula said, laughing again at you. You took a seat, reminding yourself to be more discreet the next time.

“I promise I didn’t do it on purpose, I wasn’t even aware that I was looking at the boy like that,” you finally said, knowing that your two friends wouldn’t stop teasing you until you recognised it.

“I don’t blame you, the boy was hot,” Rae said, shrugging.

“Speaking of the devil…” Paula said, wiggling her brows, indicating you to look forward.

And when you did, you blushed again, your eyes meeting the boy’s for the first time as he took a seat a couple of seats away.

For the second time that day, you were left breathless as you felt yourself falling into the depth of his black eyes.

“You’re looking at him like that again,” Rae laughed.

“Oh shit,” you said, tearing your gaze away, even though you knew the boy had caught you red handed. Well, he was staring too.

That scene repeated almost every Thursday since then.

You’d be in the station, waiting with Rae and Paula for the train to arrive when you would hear a loud noise. But you wouldn’t get scared anymore, since you already knew where the noise was coming from - from the hard wheels of the boy’s skate colliding with the ground. You’d look at him and he would pass looking at his phone, sometimes with a small smile drawn on his lips, letting you know you had been caught red handed - again. Paula and Rae would tease you as you stepped into the train and would tease you even more when the boy took his usual seat a couple of seats away from yours, always facing you.

He would step off the train at the same stop you did, and then he would take the same bus you took. He only lived a couple of blocks away, but you had never seen him, and you never saw him apart from Thursday’s afternoons.

. . .

That Thursday afternoon you were exhausted. You had had a really tough day at the hospital. As an intern you simply had to draw blood or place IVs, but it wasn’t that easy, especially with the older ones. Just before your turn ended that day, an old woman who had fallen from a chair had arrived to the emergency floor, you were the only intern who was available in that moment, so you told Rae and Paula to go home and not wait for you. When you were going to place the IV into the woman’s arm, she started moving and tossing around, telling you that she didn’t want an intern to place her IV. As she was moving, the needle poked her arm and blood started coming out like crazy. The woman started crying, you started crying, the nurse started shouting… It was a complete chaos. Finally, she placed the woman’s IV and sent you home with a scolding face.

More than being disappointed… You were scared. Scared that maybe being a nurse wasn’t your thing. But you had drawn blood before, and you had placed more than five IVs, why did an accident have to determinate how good or bad as a nurse you were?

You were so stuck into your own world, you even forgot what day it was. So when you heard the loud sound of the train entering the station mixed with the sound of hard wheels colliding with hard pavement, you didn’t even flinch.

Instead, you kept reading your book and walked closer to the train.

“Hey,” you heard a voice say from behind you, but you kept reading and waiting for the doors to open.

“My parents danced together, her head on his chest. Both had their eyes closed. They seemed so perfectly content. If you can find someone like that, someone who you can hold and close your eyes to the world with, then you’re lucky. Even if it only lasts for a minute or a day. The image of them gently swaying to the music is how I picture love in my mind even after all these years.” You smiled whilere reading one of your favourite parts from The Name of The Wind by Patrick Rothfuss.

“Hey, sorry,” the voice said again, this time closer to you, so you lifted your gaze up from the book and found a couple of dark, doe eyes. “I think you dropped this.”

You gasped before you could do anything.

There you had it, the skater boy close to you, looking at you, speaking to you, waiting for you to answer him. You snapped when the boy started laughing while he shook something in front of your face.

“This, I think it’s yours,” he said, the bunny-like smile never leaving his face.

You blushed, realizing that once again you were staring at him, your feet glued to the floor and your mouth hanging open. You cleared your throat before quickly composing yourself and looking at the small object the boy was shaking.

“Oh,” you said, softly picking the item from his hands, careful not to touch him if you didn’t want to die there and then. It was your bookmark. “Oh, yes, thanks.”

You smiled at him, not even daring to look him after what had happened. You stepped into the train, taking your usual seat by the window, not wanting to look back and find the boy laughing at you. How could you be so stupid. You had stared at him like you were some silly teenager staring at her crush.

You faced palmed yourself thinking that the boy would sit on his usual seat instead of sitting right in front of you. If you thought your cheeks couldn’t get any redder or hotter, you were wrong.

Mortified, you looked at the boy as he looked back at you, his smile still drawn in his lips.

“So you like The Name of The Wind?” he asked.

Your head was spinning , your brain screaming, and you… You just couldn’t believe what was happening. You turned your head to see if he was talking to somebody else, but when the train started again you saw nobody was behind you because behind you was the end of the wagon. Great, Y/N, just fucking great. You’re embarrassing yourself in front of the boy you have been crushing on for the past two months.

“Sorry I… I just…” you stuttered, looking even more ridiculous as your eyes landed on the boy’s again. You had always been a shy and quiet girl around people you didn’t know, and even more around boys. An even more around boys you liked! Can you even like a stranger? “I like The Name of The Wind, yes.”

You decided that taking a deep breath and trying to calm yourself down would be the best option. The soft smile the boy dedicated you afterward was so sweet you felt a little bit more relaxed around him.

“You have a good taste then,” he said. His voice was as soft as his smile. As soft as the curve of his nose. As soft as his dark, doe eyes.

“Thanks, I guess…” you murmured. You bite your lower lip, trying not to say something that would embarrass yourself even more. Maybe the boy was just being polite towards you and didn’t want to start a conversation.

“Have you read the second one?” he asked, surprising you.

“Er… Yeah, I’m just rereading it because I feel like I forget important things about it,” you said, still a bit surprised that the boy still wanted to talk to you.

Maybe he was just bored because his phone had run out of charge and he couldn’t listen to music so he was talking to you instead. Maybe he was just playing with you because he knew how you looked at him. Maybe he was pranking you. Maybe Rae and Paula have paid him so he would finally speak to me. Maybe you’re just being paranoid Y/N.

“Oh, now that you say it, I have forgotten a lot of things about it too. I should reread it too,” he simply said. He didn’t seem like one of those boys to play with girls… But then again, he was just a stranger to you.

“So you have read it too?” you asked.

“Yeah, and the second one too. I’m just waiting for the author to finish the third one,” he shrugged and set the skate between his legs.

“That’s why I am rereading it. I want to remember everything when the third one comes out,” you didn’t expect him to like that kind of books, but then again, he was just a stranger to you.

“Huf…” he said, accommodating himself on his seat, making your knees brush against each other. You readjusted yourself too so your knees wouldn’t touch, which he noticed. He smiled again. “He has been ‘writing’ it for six years now, I don’t think I’ll get to read it,” he said, making quotation marks with his fingers as he said “writing”.

You laughed a bit.“Maybe when he finally publish it we won’t be able to read it because books won’t exist anymore, because we’ll be in year 2060 and we’ll have microchips that will insert the words in our heads instead of books,” as soon as the words left your lips, you face palmed yourself again. This time mentally, of course. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, it wa-”

“Oh my God!” he interrupted you, making you blush when he started laughing. “I’m so happy I’m not the only one that thinks like that!”

“What?” you asked, frowning. Were you hearing alright? Were you dreaming? He had to be a weirdo, because had he been a normal boy, he would have already run away. Even if the train was still in motion.

“I thought I was the only one who thought that in less than fifty years there won’t be any trees left and we will have to use microchips instead of books,” he simply said, as if it wasn’t weird at all.

“You’re pulling my leg, right?” you breathed, making the boy go serious.

“No, why? Are you?” he asked.

“No, not at all,” you blinked a few times, hoping you hadn’t offended him. “I have a lot of weird theories about the future.”

“Cool, because I have a lot of weird theories about the future too,” the boy smiled again and you relaxed.

Suddenly, neither of you knew what to say and you stared at the window, not knowing if the conversation had came to its end or not. You didn’t even have time to open your mouth again.

“I’m Jungkook, by the way,” he said, quickly offering you his hand.

Not knowing what else to do, you awkwardly shook his hand. “Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you Y/N,” he smiled. “I see you every Thursday here.”

And that’s how your friendship with Jungkook started, over a fallen bookmark and The Name of The Wind. Just as fast as a train enters into its station.

. . .

“He did what?!” Paula exclaimed, clapping her hands while laughing. You looked at Rae, she hadn’t said anything because her mouth was hanging open.

Blushing, you softly pushed Rae’s chin so her mouth wouldn’t be open anymore.

“Calm your tits, he just gave me my bookmark,” you said, hoping he wouldn’t be in that same wagon. But it was Friday, and you never saw him unless it was Thursday.

“Yes! He gave you your bookmark and after you embarrassed yourself in front of him, he still sat in front of you and spoke to you for the rest of the way home,” Paula said, still shocked about what you had told them.

“The skater boy talked to you?!” Rae said, leaving her trance behind.

“I’m shocked too, okay?” you said, shaking your head and caressing the hard cover of the book you were holding in your hands: The Name of The Wind.

“I can’t believe you, he’s so hot,” Paula exclaimed, making you shush her. If they kept speaking in that loud tone, even Jungkook would hear your conversation - and he wasn’t even in that train.

“What? I know I’m not the most beautiful girl in the planet, but…” you began to say, a bit offended by your friends words.

Of course you knew how the World span, how it worked. Boys like him didn’t like girls like you. You didn’t stand out in the middle of a crowd, while he stood out everywhere he went. You were in the ordinary side, while he was in the extraordinary. You were one more straw in the middle of the hay loft, while Jungkook was the needle. So hard to find, but once you did, you could only see him in between thousands straws.

“No, that’s not what we’re saying, don’t be stupid,” Rae said as she nudged Paula on her side. “It just seems taken out of a fanfic or some romantic as fuck novel.”

“I wished a boy as hot as…” Paula said, trying to remember the boy’s name.

“Jungkook,” you smiled, liking how easily his name rolled out off your tongue.

“Well, I wished a boy as hot as Jungkook would talk to me,” she said.

They started to talk about how lucky you were and how hot Jungkook was, with his skate and his long bangs nearly covering his eyes and giving him a mysterious look. How could your stomach churn every time they mentioned him? You had only spoken to him once, why where you willing to speak with him a second time?

“Stop girls, don’t get my hopes high,” you said as your stop finally came. “I have only spoken with him once, and we didn’t even exchange our phone numbers. Maybe he was just being polite with me and really thought I was crazy.”

She told you that you were being negative and that getting your hopes high wasn’t a bad thing at all. You doubted that last part as you stepped out of the train on your own. Of course getting your hopes high was a bad thing. You had heard before that hope is one of the most dangerous weapons the human being possesses, it can destroy cities, countries, it can destroy people.

. . .

When the next Thursday came you felt anxious waiting for the train. Paula and Rae were chatting animatedly, as always. You’d usually join them, but that day you were so nervous that you couldn’t do anything but look towards the stairs from where you knew the loud noise of hard wheels making contact with the ground would come.

You felt a bit stupid as the train entered into the station and the skater boy was nowhere to be seen. You had even applied mascara that day in case you saw Jungkook and he spoke to you again. You had put on your favourite boyfriend jeans and your baby blue shirt. You had even painted your lips in a burgundy colour! You didn’t look like you were trying to impress anyone, but you looked more feminine than you usually did an you felt dumb for trying to look pretty for a boy you didn’t even know.

“Stop looking at the stairs,” Rae whispered. “He’ll appear, he has a pending conversation with you.”

You shook your head as you walked towards the wagon’s door, tearing your gaze away from the stairs.

“He doesn’t have any pending conversation with anyone,” you huffed, stepping into the train followed by your friends. What if he was avoiding you because he really thought you were weird?

“Oh, c'mon Y/N,” Paula protested, sitting in your usual seats. “The boy spoke to you, he approached to you. There are two options. One: he really likes you and just wants to get to know you; or two: the boy liked you but you scared him with your stupid conversation about conspiracy theories.”

“Hey!” you whined, cheering up a bit. “My conspiracy theories are actually interesting to hear, but you never listen when I tell you about them.”

Just then the doors started closing and your heart speed increased as you heard the familiar sound. When you turned your head you saw a boy running towards the wagon’s doors and stepping inside at the last minute.

He caught his breath and pushed softly his dark bangs aside.

When he lifted his gaze, his eyes found yours and you immediately blushed, but instead of just looking towards you and then going to his usual seat as he always did, he smiled towards you and started approaching you.

“Tell me you are seeing it too, Paula,” Rae whispered.

“Yep, I’m seeing it,” Paula said too, both of them observing every single movement the boy made.

You didn’t know who was more breathless; Jungkook, from running towards the train, or you, because that same boy was now seating just next to you and his dark, warm eyes were burning into yours.

“Hi,” he timidly said, smiling at you. His bunny-like smile made him appear so innocent, almost like a little kid.

“Hey,” you said, almost sounding bored. Oh, you wanted to face palm yourself again. “I thought you weren’t going to make it,” you joked, trying to change the awkward atmosphere a bit, just making it even more uncomfortable as you heard Paula and Rae’s sighs.

I’m not good with boys, okay?! was what you were whiling to shout.

“Yeah?” he laughed, as he laughed every time you said something a bit dumb. “I thought so too.”

You smiled and then looked at your friends, who were looking at the boy with curious eyes.

“I’m Jungkook,” he said, introducing himself and leaving the three of you speechless.

Your friends said hi to him and introduced themselves too. The rest of the route was spent talking with Rae, Paula and Jungkook. About university, about anything and everything at the same time. But finally, yours and Jungkook’s stop came. You waved goodbye to your friends and prayed so Jungkook hadn’t seen your friends winking towards you and wiggling her brows.

“Oh, I forgot,” he said, opening his backpack and took something out of it. “I started reading it too.”

He handed you a damaged-looking copy of The Name of The Wind. Its cover was hard, just like yours, but it was filled with small scratches and cuts. You thought about his beautiful hands caressing the cover, his curious eyes wandering around the book’s pages, soaking every little word in.

“It seems like you take good care of it,” you joked, glancing through the different pages and seeing that there were some small drawings and notes in some of them. “You mark your favourite parts?”

“Yes, I try to mark the most important parts so, whenever I feel like I forget something important, I can easily find it,” he said as he observed your hands delicately caressing the pages.

“I wish I was like that too, but I’m too lazy to always carry a pen with me every time I read something,” you gave him back his book. “I’m glad I made you reread it again.”

He just drew a small smile on his lips as he put the book into his backpack again. He didn’t even need to show you his white teeth or his bunny smile, all he needed to do was look at you with those black eyes.

If someone asked you what was the thing that had attracted your attention the most about Jeon Jungkook, your answer would always be the same: his eyes, adding later how much life they held and how he could speak through them.

. . .

Jungkook and his bright personality slipped through your bones and into your soul as fast as the cold slipped through the warm days and cool nights, leading to freezing days and even colder nights.

At first it was just his “mysterious boy” look, then it was his eyes, his personality, his strange laugh, the small crinkles that appeared next to his eyes every time he laughed so hard he had to grab his stomach so it wouldn’t hurt anymore. His bunny smile, the small mole he had under his lower lip, his beautiful hands and how they got red from the cold wind. The small puffs of white air that slipped through his lips every time he spoke as you waited for the train to arrive.

It was everything, from the way he appeared on his skate into the station, to the way he cracked up every time he scared you, making you jump when he suddenly appeared next to you.

From the way he made you laugh with every single dumb thing he said or did, to the silly way in which he waved towards you each time you said goodbye to each other every single Thursday.

Paula and Rae told you that they had to stay a bit longer at the hospital, but you knew they just waited until you were gone so they could take the train after yours and you could be alone with Jungkook. The next day, they would bombard you with questions.

He became your best friend, someone you could trust and tell everything. He knew when something was wrong just by looking at you and he wouldn’t stop asking until you told him what was wrong, whether it was something about university, about the hospital or about your family. You could tell him about it, and in return you’d get that beautiful bunny smile and the best funny story you had ever heard. He always knew how to cheer you up. He trusted you too, in fact, he trusted you like he had never trusted nobody.

Just his way of showing you was different from yours.

He didn’t speak too much about him, you just knew the basics. He had an older brother and lived with his parents. Every single Thursday he met with his group of friends at the basketball court that was in the sports centre near the hospital. He loved reading good books, drinking crappy coffee, listening to good sad music and he loved his skate.

You loved when you spent your route laughing and talking about stupid things, making everyone around you look at you, that young couple in the back that were always making noise and being loud.

You loved when you spent all your route speaking, opening yourselves towards each other. Speaking about life and more important things like time, dreams, imagination, happiness, about the future and what you hoped of it… Even thought Jungkook always said that he lived in the present, and he never thought about the future, you could see the spark of young dreams every time you spoke about that topic.

But the routes you loved the most where the ones where you and Jungkook would just sit next to each other in silence, your eyes, mind and soul immerse in some book one of you had recommended the other. The one who had recommended it; rereading it, while the other read it for the first time. You would read it, taking notes in the pages you had loved the most and the next Thursday you’d share them with each other, explaining the meaning you had found behind the author’s words.

Suddenly, Autumn was long gone, and Christmas lights were hung all over the city. You could hear Christmas carols everywhere and see Christmas trees decorating the cold Seoul’s streets. Suddenly snow started falling replacing the forgotten orange, Autumn leaves. Suddenly Winter came and the holidays came with it. You were having Christmas dinner with your family and going to Rae’s party on New Year’s Eve. Suddenly you found yourself wishing a happy New Year through text message to the boy that had occupied your mind and your every thought since you first saw him. Suddenly, Winter was gone too, and suddenly, you were in love with Jeon Jungkook.

. . .

“Bless you!” you said while laughing.

Jungkook had been sneezing since the moment he greeted you in the station that Spring Thursday. You had been laughing at him, founding cute how he sniffed after each sneeze and how his eyes seemed smaller.

“It’s not funny, okay?” he said, blowing his nose with a tissue.

“It’s not funny, okay?” you mimicked him, with a loud, obnoxious tone. “You sounded like the little kid from that meme. You know, the boy who was-”

“I know what meme it is,” he interrupted you, blowing his nose again.

You couldn’t help but laugh again as you searched for the meme on your phone, just to show it to him and tease him a bit. He whined, but ignored you as he stepped into the train, that had already arrived to the station.

Before stepping into the train, you looked back and took a deep breath, loving how Spring smelled in Seoul. Sitting next to Jungkook, you took your denim jacket off.

“Oh, Spring is beautiful, don’t you think?” you asked, admiring the tall green trees from behind the train’s window.

“Yeah, Spring is beautiful when you aren’t allergic to everything it creates,” he said.

Just like the bright pink petals of the cherry trees, your love towards Jungkook had blossomed too, growing stronger and stronger as days went by. Without realising it, your love had surrounded you like the cherry blossoms, as beautiful and breathtaking as them. But you knew cherry blossoms only lasted for a couple of weeks before they fell down the cherry tree and it was left naked again, waiting for Spring to arrive again and hit it with its beauty.

You were dying to get it out of your chest and tell him as Rae and Paula had encouraged you to do since you told them what you felt for the doe-eyed boy. But you didn’t have the courage to do so. You tried searching for some answers in the boy’s eyes, hoping you’d find them like you always did when you looked into his eyes. Every time you searched for love in those black eyes, you only saw care, but never love.

Maybe you didn’t know what love looked like. Maybe you were hoping to see fireworks, flares, anything… Maybe it wasn’t in his eyes where you had to search for love.

“Y/N?” you heard him call your name. He was looking at you with a cocky smile in his face, just like every time he caught you immerse un your own world.

“Mhm, sorry I didn’t hear you,” you said, your cheeks reddening a bit.

“I know,” he laughed. “I was about to ask you something, but maybe you want to keep thinking about what you where thinking.”

“Yeah, because I was thinking about how stupid you are,” you mockingly said. “But I always have time to think about that, so ask me whatever you were going to ask me.”

Jungkook tried hiding his smile as he shook his head. “Well…” suddenly, he seemed nervous. “My friends and I are going to some club this Saturday and… Er… They asked me if you wanted to come.”

He didn’t look at you in the eye as he said so, but you didn’t care, because all you could think of in that moment was that he was - somehow - asking you to go out with him. You had only met at the train and you spoke through texts, but you had never met away from that train station.

“If you don’t want to come or you have made plans already…” he began to say, seeing that you hadn’t said a word.

“No,” you said, snapping from your trance. Jungkook looked at you frowning and you smiled. “No as in ‘no, I don’t have made any plans for Saturday night.”

Jungkook relaxed a bit and his playful smirk returned to his beautiful face. “Not that you have many plans every Saturday night anyway.”

“Oh, shut up Jeon,” you whined, hitting him hard in the arm.

. . .

“I don’t know what to wear!” you almost cried as Rae and Paula finished their make-up.

You didn’t go partying that often, that’s why your closet was full of trousers and oversized jumpers, but not a single dress could be seen in it.

“Just wear a dress and some high heels,” Paula whispered, not paying you much attention.

“Thank you for being such a good listener Paula,” you said in a harsh tone. “I have said that I don’t have any dresses or high heels nearly fifty times!”

“Woah, relax, you are going to age faster if you don’t calm down,” she said, still concentrated on her winged eyeliner.

“Paula, shut up. She’s nervous because she’s going out for the first time with the boy she likes,” Rae said, approaching you. “Well, the boy she is in love with.”

You only sighed and sat on the edge of your bed. “If I would have known this I wouldn’t have asked Jungkook if you two could come.”

“Hey, listen,” Paula said, finishing her eyeliner. “You’re going to look beautiful tonight and Jungkook will see what he’s missing.”

“You’re speaking as if he had rejected me,” you laughed a bit. “He’s not missing anything because he doesn’t feel the same.”

“You won’t never know it if you don’t tell him about your feelings,” Rae encouraged you. You just stood up from the bed and searched for something to wear in your closet. You had had that same conversation with your friends before.

“I won’t tell him about my feelings, okay? And you won’t either,” you said, throwing a simple black skater skirt into the bed. “The last thing I want to lose is his friendship.”

“He told his friends about you, Y/N!” Paula said. “Wake up, that’s a signal. He likes you.”

You rolled your eyes. You paired the black skirt with a white blouse. “He told his friends about me because we are friends. And shut up, you’re always getting my hopes high for nothing.”

You started dressing yourself quickly, putting a black lace bralette and black matching panties. You didn’t have much time since you would meet with Jungkook and his friends at the club at ten and it was already nine.

“You always say that, but when you first said it Jungkook appeared in the train out of nowhere and sat beside you,” Paula said, putting on her red stilettos.

“And the last time you said it, he asked you for your number, so don’t be pessimistic and just enjoy the night,” Rae said.

You sighed, knowing they were right. Even if Jungkook didn’t feel the same towards you, you could still have a fun night out with your best friends and the boy you liked.

The club was packed when you arrived. Fashionably late, of course. Jungkook had texted you, letting you know that they were upstairs getting some drinks.

The music was too loud to hear anything that your friends said as you climbed up the stairs. When you finally arrived to the bar in which Jungkook had told you that he was waiting for you with his friends, you saw a group of boys. They were at least seven, each one of them more handsome than the other. Despite the dim lights and the dark atmosphere, your recognised him immediately.

You approached, taking short, shy steps. Jungkook was with his back facing towards you, so he didn’t see you approaching them until one of the other boys nudged his back. Jungkook’s eyes made contact with you, shining under the multi coloured lights.

His smile was drawn on his lips as soon as he saw you, pushing some of his friends so he could greet you and start introducing you to his friends. They were six other boys and Jungkook was the youngest of them all. They greeted you with wide smiles and soft nods of their heads.

“She’s even more beautiful than you told us, Jungkookie,” the eldest boy named Jin teased.

You blushed, but blushed even more when you saw how flustered Jungkook was. You didn’t knew if it was because Jin had just called him Jungkookie in front of you or if it was because Jin had admitted that he had told them you were beautiful. You just smiled as Jungkook punched Jin in the arm.

To break the awkward moment, you introduced your friends to the boys, Rae immediately setting her sights on a quiet boy named Yoongi.

“I nearly didn’t recognise you,” you told Jungkook, leaning over Jungkook so he could hear you.

He turned his head to face you, making you gasp at the proximity of your faces. He was smirking as he looked into your eyes, probably knowing the effect he had on you. “Yeah? Why?” he said in a playful tone. Even though he was always comfortable around you and he had never been shy towards you, you saw a different side of him that night. He was more cocky, more playful with you. You just blamed the alcohol.

“I’m so used to seeing you in those oversized hoodies and sweatpants that I thought this guy in a white shirt and black trousers wasn’t the Jeon Jungkook I know,” you said, feeling a bit uncomfortable under his intense gaze.

“And what Jeon Jungkook you like the most?” he asked, making you blush once again.

“The one in oversized hoodies and sweatpants, to be honest,” you said, and when you saw his eyes widening you explained yourself. “Not that you don’t look… Interesting in that shirt and those tight trousers.”

“Interesting, hum?” he hummed, taking a sip from his glass, filled with a dark liquid you supposed was alcohol. “You are really interesting too in that skirt,” he said, and as soon as the words left his lips, his eyes widened again and he took a sip from his glass once more, this time longer. You blushed and cleared your throat.

“Hum… I’m going to grab a drink,” you said.

“Okay, I’ll go with you,” he followed you towards the counter where the barmen where serving the drinks.

You weren’t inside of your comfort zone: the train and at first it was a bit difficult for you both to start a conversation. But as always, you ended up talking and laughing about everything and anything at the same time.

The boys joined you and all of you ended up taking shots of tequila and screaming so loud you couldn’t even hear the music anymore. There was a boy that shouted over the rest, Taehyung. He wasn’t drunk, he was completely wasted, inviting everyone to do shots and trying to flirt even with Jimin, who always answered him with “No, Tae, you know my girlfriend and she would kill you.”

As the night carried on, you were left alone with Jungkook once again. Namjoon disappeared with Jimin because they were really tired. Jin was with Hoseok trying to tell random girls bad jokes and make them laugh. Yoongi and Rae where nowhere to be seen, and Tae and Paula were wasted, dancing on the dance floor.

“Wanna go to the dance floor?” Jungkook said, slowly since he had to think twice what he was going to say.

“Sure,” you said, leaving your empty glass on the bar. “But we won’t be dancing with Paula and Tae, right? I don’t want to be kicked out.”

Jungkook laughed, but you didn’t hear the beautiful sound of it since the music was blasting through the speakers. There were so many people, the place was so packed, that you thought you would lose Jungkook in the crowd. He was following you, so you stopped a bit to look at him and see if he was still behind you. He knocked the air out of your lungs when his hand grabbed yours and he lead you towards the dance floor.

It wasn’t the first time he had grabbed your hand, but it was the first time he intertwined his fingers with you, the first time you could completely feel his skin against yours.

When you were in the middle of the dance floor, Jungkook stopped and let go of your hand. He turned so you were facing each other. You were awkwardly looking at each other, both with silly smiles on your faces. You smiled widely when you thought about what someone would think if they looked at you both in that moment. They’d probably see a boy and a girl whose life had just started, young and beautiful, falling in love under the lights of the pub. Oh, they’d be so wrong.

“What?!” he shouted so you could hear his voice above the music.

You smiled. “Nothing,” you looked at your feet. Jungkook was lazily moving them to the rhythm.

“Tell me,” he pushed you, taking a step towards you, so close to you that your chest were touching. You were nearly trembling when you lifted your head and found his eyes, burning into yours with so much force you thought your heart would burst into flames.

“Tell you what?” you teased.

“Tell me why you were looking at me with that smile on your face,” he leaned his face mere inches from yours. He lowered his head a bit so his eyes were right in front of yours. You bit your lower lip.

Your body started moving along the music. It was as loud as it had been for the rest of the night, but it had faded into the background as Jungkook smiled and started dancing too. At first it was just the two of you dancing and joking around, laughing and touching every once in a while, but with every passing song, your bodies started getting closer. And suddenly Jungkook’s hands where on your waist and your hands were seductively playing with your hair.

You saw him biting his lower lip as he looked down at you, dancing for him, just for his eyes. You had never felt so sure of yourself or so sexy as you did then, in that moment, under the burning gaze of the boy you loved. Maybe he wasn’t in love with you, maybe he didn’t even like you as something more than a simple friend, but in that moment he wanted you and you could see it in his burning gaze.

The desire you felt, the desire in Jungkook’s eyes and the tequila shoots you had behind, made you feel confident and you moved closer to Jungkook until you could feel his stomach against yours. You could barely hear anything that wasn’t your erratic breaths or your heart beat, but you swore you heard a low grunt escaping from Jungkook’s lips.

His hands were holding you in place, so your bodies would move at the same pace. Your arms circled his neck until your fingers were playing with his hair.

“What are we doing?” was all that Jungkook could whisper into your ear as you danced against him.

“We’re dancing,” you said, as innocently as you could.

You’d be lying if someone asked you if you desired Jungkook or not and you answered no. Of course you yearned for him, for his body, for his hands, for his eyes, for his voice, his soul, heart and everything he could offer to you. And even though you knew none of that things belonged to you, in that moment you wanted to believe that yes, Jeon Jungkook was yours and only yours.

As the temperature escalated, Jungkook pressed you more and more against his body, so much you could already feel the growing bulge in his pants. You bit your lip. Were you really getting Jungkook horny?

You got your answer when he moved his hands a bit lower and, with a bit of force, spun you so his chest was pressed against your back. His arms circled your waist and his hands landed on the waistband of your skirt. You couldn’t believe what was going on as Jungkook’s lips started grazing the skin of your neck. In that moment you were biting your lip with so much force, you thought it would start bleeding. You were feeling on cloud nine, closing your eyes and letting Jungkook’s body lead yours. You intertwined your hands with Jungkook’s, the touch so intimate you almost believed that what was happening was real.

Of course you knew it wasn’t real. It was a product of two young people, wild hormones and alcohol, mixed with the loud music and the atmosphere that surrounded you both.

“Jungkook,” his name escaped from your lips in a strangled moan when the boy sunk his teeth in your neck, licking the spot afterwards.

He leaned into your ear and whispered something, but you didn’t understood it. You turned around to face him and ask him what he had said.

“Kiss me,” he breathed, loud enough for you to hear.

He didn’t even give you time as he leaned in and his lips touched yours, softly at first, roughly and passionately as a couple of seconds passed. You followed his lips, still shocked about what was going on. You closed your eyes and focused every sense of your on Jungkook and his lips. They felt softer than a marshmallow, the bottom lip being a little more plump that the upper one. He tasted like tequila and fireworks - fireworks that were exploding at the same time in the pitch of your stomach.

The kiss escalated quickly and soon, Jungkook’s tongue traced your bottom lip, making you open your mouth a bit so his tongue could play with yours. Meanwhile, his hands kept you pressed against him as he grabbed you by the waist.

You swore two, three… Maybe seven songs passed and you were still kissing, pouring yourselves into the kiss, without any care about what was going on around you.

When you felt breathless for the hundredth time, you pulled away as Jungkook’s teeth bite your bottom lip. You opened your eyes to fin Jungkook’s eyes already on you. His lips were plum and red, and his eyes wilder than you had ever seen him. Oh God, he was so beautiful and so young, and you were so in love with him.

“I live ten minutes away from here,” is all you could say in that moment. “Just a few blocks away.”

Jungkook looked intensely into your eyes. “Are you sure you want this?”

You bit your lip while looking at him. He sure wanted that, you could see and feel it. But… Did you want it? Of course you wanted it, but you didn’t know if you’d feel the same the next morning. You already were too head over heels in love with Jungkook, but maybe if you took that next step there would be no turning back. All of your thoughts were summarized in one soft nod of your head.

That was all Jungkook needed to grab your hand and drag you out of the club. As soon as you were outside, he kissed you fiercely again.

You nearly ran towards you house, the ten minutes walk being the longest in your life. As soon as the door of you small shared apartment was open, Jungkook nearly pushed you inside, his mouth being all over yours once again. Your roommate was visiting her parents that weekend, so you were lucky you had the house all to yourself.

You laughed when Jungkook led you towards the wrong room, nearly tripping when you told him it was your roommate’s room.

In between kisses, bites, moans, laughs and silly jokes you finally finished undressing one another. Jungkook climbed over you, your back pressed against your soft white sheets. You looked at him, looking like a prince to you, hovering above you under the moonlight that slipped through the window. His obsidian hair falling into his eyes, casting shadows all over his face, making his lips look plumper, his eyes darker and his jawline sharper.

Jungkook was art, a piece of the finest carved marble. There was no flaw in his body or his face. You could look at him all day and you would still not get tired of it. You could have spent hours observing every little mole that adorned his body like constellations adorn the sky. From the mole he had under his bottom lip, to the one he had on his neck, and ending in the round mole just next to his belly button.

Whispering sweet nothings into your ears, planting passionate kisses all over your body, leaving his mark in your neck, caressing every curve of your body with his fingertips as if he wanted to always remember it - as if he was afraid he would forget about the curve of your hips, your legs, your breasts, your collarbones, your cheekbones or your lips - he made love to you that night.

His way of pushing softly into you at first and roughly afterwards drove you crazy. He spoke with his body that night. With his face, his hands, his fingertips. With every touch, he told you a million things he couldn’t voice out - a million things he wouldn’t voice out. With every whisper, he let you know how much he was enjoying fucking you. With every moan he let you know how good you made him feel. With every push of his body into you, he let you know how much he had been fantasizing about your body pressed against him.

He knew that making love to you would be a turning point in your relationship, that he had not only let you see him naked, but he had let you see him completely naked. Body and soul. You were different, he felt it in the way he reacted towards you. Maybe you’d be the only constant in his life. Maybe you’d be the one that stays in his mind forever.

. . .

You woke up to the sun high up in the sky, hitting your naked skin. You woke up to the sound of soft snores beside you.

You blinked a couple of times, lazily batting your eyelashes so your eyes could adjust to the light that filled your room that Spring morning. Turning around you found Jungkook, asleep by your side, his arm hanging lazily over your waist.

He was sweating, hair sticking to his forehead. With a soft smile drawn on your lips and careful not to wake him up, you moved away the dark strands of hair. But you failed in your attempt of not waking him up as he stirred and growled.

Your hand travelled then to his forehead, the side of his nose, until you finally placed it over his cheek.

Sudden anxiety took over you as Jungkook started opening his eyes, slowly at first and then all at once. What if he regretted last night? What if he just wanted to be your friend? What if he was just drunk?

He looked at you when he finally opened his eyes, observing every inch of your face. Slowly, he traced his eyes over your lips, your chin, your nose and they finally landed in your eyes. You remained silent, your hand placed over his cheek, not knowing what to do.

Something in the boy that was lying in your bed, naked next to you, snapped as he frowned and quickly got away from you. Your hand fell lifelessly onto the bed, just as fast as your heart feel and shattered too.

“Who… What am I doing here?” he asked, with a raspy voice, standing up from your bed, blushing when he saw he was naked. “What the fuck?”

You blinked your tears away a couple of times before you felt too naked under Jungkook’s gaze and you covered your body with your sheets. You sat yourself up in bed. Without looking at you twice, Jungkook had started dressing himself.

“Look Jungkook… I… We…” you stuttered.

“Jungkook?” he sounded confused. He put on his shirt and brushed his hair with his fingers. “Why do you even know my name? I mean… I’m sure I’ve never seen you before.”

You saw it in his eyes. It was there. Emptiness. Nothing. You saw nothing in his eyes as he looked at you.

“What?” you blinked a couple of times, confused, angry, humiliated, heartbroken… All at once. “How dare you say that you have never seen me before?”

Jungkook picked up his phone and his wallet before stuffing them into the pockets of his jeans. He really looked confused.

“I… I don’t know how I ended up here but-” he said, sounding angry too. Why was he even angry. You had been the rejected one there. “But I’m sure it was fun and well… Thank you.”

“Thank you?!” you nearly shouted. “What the fuck Jungkook? You’re kidding me, right? You’re fucking thanking me as if I was a whore!”

The boy that was in front of you wasn’t Jungkook. He looked like Jungkook, but he definitely wasn’t him. Those empty eyes, looking at them just made you sick.

“I… I gotta go,” was what he said before looking at you one last time and grabbing the doorknob to open your bedroom door.

“Jungkook!” you screamed, wanting to go after him, but your body felt somehow stuck to the mattress of your bed.

Seconds later you felt the front door close and your tears run down your cheeks. You had hoped Jungkook would stay, you had hoped that maybe he would whisper a “good morning” to you and then make love to you again as he did the night before. You hoped you two would stay in your bed forever, letting the sunrays warm your skin. You hoped.

. . .

You were never someone that regretted what they had done. If you did something, then you’d take the consequences that came with it.

But you regretted sleeping with Jungkook.

You regretted it all, from the moment he stepped off of your apartment pretending he didn’t even knew you to the moment you texted him, saying that you could act as if nothing had happened, and the text was never delivered - meaning that he had blocked your number.

You tried reaching out to him, looking for him at the train station, even at the sports centre. He was nowhere to be seen. You missed the noise of his skate colliding with the floor, you missed the way he always went pass you as if he hadn’t seen you. You missed your conversations, his laugh, his eyes. You thought about look for him at his house, but you realised you barely knew anything about him, other than he loved reading, skating and making you laugh.

At first you were sad, you blamed yourself for what had happened. If you had been able to contain yourself, it would have only been two drunk friends kissing at a pub. Maybe Jungkook would still speak to you then. It didn’t feel the same stepping into the train on your own, looking at the cherry blossoms or simply stepping off the bus.

Your sadness turned into anger as Spring slowly turned into Summer. You started blaming Jungkook instead of yourself. If he hadn’t wanted to sleep with you, he could have stopped you. Or he simply could have contained himself and not have dragged you out of the club and towards your house. And he even pretended he didn’t know you and that he didn’t remember anything! What a fucking coward.

Anger turned into nothing as your final exams came and you needed all of your brain focused on one thing: studying. You buried yourself in books and notes, the uni’s library becoming your second home. Reading and writing also helped you with the J thing. You had became so pathetic you couldn’t even say his entire name.

Internship at the hospital helped you with that too, but each time you had to take the train and go to the station, you panicked, thinking that maybe he would be there, with his skate or his book. With his oversized hoodie or his brown beanie. But he would never be there.

Final exams ended and you only had a week left at the hospital before summer holidays started.

“Where are you going?” Rae asked you, absentmindedly playing with his hair.

“Hm… I think I might visit my family,” you said. Since your family lived in another country and you had moved to Seoul with your parents when you were little, you barely saw them. You and your parents usually visited them every summer. “And you?”

That day you had finished practice at the hospital earlier, so the train station was almost empty, except for the three of you and some more people.

Your friends had been trying to distract you every time they accompanied you to the train station, since they didn’t want you to look around searching for Jungkook. You spoke about ordinary things, too ordinary and boring.

As the train came into the station, you lifted your eyes up from the floor. What you saw, almost made you fall to the ground.

Round, wide, black eyes were staring at you from a couple of metres away. He looked as surprised as you to see you there. A sudden wave of anger shook your body and you had to contain yourself not run towards him and slap him in the face with all the force you had.

You tore your gaze away from his as if his eyes burned you. But it was true, they burned you. Paula and Rae had seen him too, so they followed you into the train without saying a word.

The conversation about what you’d be doing that summer continued, your friends trying to distract you somehow, but your mind was somewhere else. You were sure you were red from anger. Not only did he dare to look at you with puppy eyes, as if he was the one hurting there, as if he hadn’t been avoiding you for two months. He dared to sit on his usual seat, just a couple of metres away from you, in the same wagon you were.

He was looking out of the window, with that impassible face, avoiding to look towards you. But you couldn’t avoid him, no when you suddenly remembered how his lips felt against yours, how his hands traced every curve of your body, how his eyes looked at you that night as if you were a piece of art. No when all you could think about was he sleeping next to you, pulling you closer to him.

“Y/N!” Paula said as you stood up from your seat, leaving your bag there. “Y/N, where are you going?” she whispered, already knowing where you were heading to.

You sat in front of Jungkook, making him look at you.

“Hey,” you said, putting on a fake smile. “Do you remember who I am or are you going to pretend that you don’t know me once again?”

For a brief moment, your swore you saw hurt in his eyes, even regret, but his impassible facade was still there. You were being cruel, but he had been cruel too for the past two months.

He huffed and readjusted himself in his seat. You frowned as you didn’t see his skate with him. He always carried his skate board with him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

If it weren’t for the anger you had felt in that moment, that blinded you completely, maybe you would have seen the tired look in his eyes, covered behind the cold facade he was putting on. Maybe you’d have seen that he had lost weight, that he had bags under his eyes, that his hair was longer than usual and maybe you’d have found the reason why he hadn’t brought his skate with him. If you hadn’t been seeing red in that moment, you’d have seen him fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie. You would have even found strange that he was wearing a hoodie in June.

“Woah, I didn’t expect such an elaborate answer from you,” you said, anger filling every single word.

He shrugged and just looked away from you, towards the window. The once cherry trees covered in pink cherry blossoms were naked then, just normal green leaves making it look like an ordinary tree.

“I don’t know, Y/N. What the fuck do you want me to say?” he spat, finally looking at you. “Do you want me to tell you the truth and hurt you, or do you want me to keep avoiding you and save you the heartbreak?”

Maybe if you hadn’t been that angry and selfish, you would have found the double meaning behind his words.

“Heartbreak?” you laughed sarcastically. “You? Saving me the heartbreak?” you looked at him, throwing daggers towards him with your eyes. “You can’t save the heartbreak to someone who is already heartbroken, so go ahead.”

He flinched and took a deep breath before speaking again. “What happened that night…” he made a pause for a brief moment. “We had fun, that’s all.”

“That’s all?” you repeated. “Oh, that’s all, yes,” you laughed sarcastically again. “That’s all you have to say to me after two months? That we had fun and that’s all?”

“Yes, what do you want me to say?” he said, raising his voice a bit. You both were trying to speak in a normal tone so the rest of the wagon wouldn’t hear your conversation. “You wanted the truth? That’s the truth. I slept with you, I can’t get anything else from you.”

Those were the last words you were expecting to hear. You thought your heart was already broken, that’s why you didn’t expect to feel such a pain in your chest as the boy you loved told you what you knew but you never wanted to see. You were nothing for him.

You opened your mouth, trying to say something, but you couldn’t. Don’t, Y/N. You breathed as you closed your eyes, and when you opened them again to found those black eyes looking directly at you, you gathered the courage to speak. “You just wanted to fuck me?”

Jungkook looked at you, as if wanting to tell you something else. But he didn’t. “I’m not the guy you thought I was.”

“You definitely aren’t,” you said, standing up from your seat.

“You shouldn’t have trusted me, you don’t know anything about me other than random insignificant things,” he said, looking away from you.

“You’re right…” you whispered, your eyes glued to your hands as you kept playing with your t-shirt. You gulped. You didn’t want it to end like that, but you didn’t want anything from him either, so you just walked away.

You took your seat next to Paula and Rae, who had been eyeing you the entire time. You told them you didn’t want to talk about it and when the train stopped in the next station, Jungkook gathered his things and stepped off the train without looking back again. You felt a pang of hurt in your chest and you had to swallow your own tears. You’d get over him.

. . .

Your summer holidays began, days were longer and nights shorter. Stars shone brighter than ever that warm summer. But not for you, since you spent nearly every night thinking about him, your heart shattering into pieces all over the place.

You were supposed to be travelling with your parents to visit your family, but since being in Seoul reminded you of him, you flew home a month earlier than your parents.

Being with your grandparents, helping them around and playing with your little cousins helped you a bit. Until one day, one of your cousins - the one that had eighteen years old - told you he had started reading The Name of The Wind, and Jungkook came crashing into your mind again. When would it stop?

Everything started reminding you of him at home too, and forgetting him was starting to feel like an impossible mission. So instead of trying to forget him, you simply pushed the memory of him to the back of your head.

By the end of summer, Jungkook was something you had locked in a hidden place you didn’t even know it existed, or you just simply ignored it.

Starting uni again and seeing your friends again made you incredibly happy.

Just as a new season started, your routine did too. You couldn’t wait for cherry trees to blossom again, but you loved the colours of Seoul’s autumn too. After starting your internship at the hospital again, Seoul became your home once more. You were always doing something, always listening to music, reading or going out with your friends, filling those empty gaps that could give you time to think.

Those who didn’t really know you, would say that you had changed, that you had become a more mature and serious person. In a way, you did, you changed. But you were still the same. Still the same stupid, naive girl who fell in love with a boy she met at the train station on a Thursday evening. The same girl who fell in love over a fallen bookmark and an unfinished book saga. That same girl that got her heart broken and fixed piece by piece over time.

. . .

“… and after that, you have to visit Mr. Choi and check his glucose,” the nurse told you, writing something in a paper.

It was being a hectic day at the hospital. Two car accidents, one of them a bus filled with teenagers. As one of the intern nurses you were left out of the action and you just had to check the hospitalized patients.

Nodding, you gathered your things and did your tasks, chatting with the people that you already knew because they had been hospitalized before summer began.

As you were heading to Mr. Choi’s room you stayed paralysed in the middle of the corridor.

The laugh that escaped from the door right in front of you slipped into your bones, suddenly breaking the wall you had built in a remote part of yourself, hiding behind it the name of the boy your heart still yearned for. You felt like you were going to collapse on the floor right then and there.

Without even thinking, your hand grabbed the doorknob of the white door. The nurse would kill you for not following your schedule, but you had to know if he was there. You suddenly needed to see him, despite the hurtful words he directed towards you the last time you saw him. Your heart still ached at the sound, so pure and vibrant it made your heart beat faster.

You hoped you’d see him sitting on the visitor’s chairs, but what you saw left you completely breathless. It was funny because, every single time you saw him, he somehow made you feel breathless.

You recognised the person that was sitting on the visitor’s chair, but it wasn’t Jungkook. Jimin stared at you, wide eyes and open mouth, his laugh dying and evaporating in the air. Then, with jaw clenched and tear-filled eyes, you looked at the boy that was lying back in the hospital bed. Jungkook looked as breathless as you did, but for obvious different reasons.

In that moment, you saw what you hadn’t seen that Thursday’s afternoon, in the wagon of the train, just before summer began. You saw it all. You saw his tired eyes, his dark, dishevelled hair. His pale skin, the bags under his eyes that contrasted with the soft skin of his beautiful face. You saw he had lost weight, his wide shoulders seeming smaller and hunched.

You felt a wave of feelings of all kind hit your body, the force of the impact making hot tears roll down your cheeks.

“Y/N,” Jungkook breathed.

You frowned, your hand still over the doorknob. You didn’t know what to do, what to say or simply… What to feel. So you just stepped back and closed the door again as if you had never stepped into that room.

“Y/N!” you heard Jungkook calling out for you from the other side of the closed door.

As you dried your tears with the back of your hand, you started running down the corridor, ignoring everyone that was looking at you with confused eyes, and ignoring Jimin, who was running towards you, calling out your name.

Arriving to Mr. Choi’s room, you closed the door behind you and took a deep breath. You felt safe there, away from Jimin and Jungkook.

“What’s wrong, honey?” the old man asked you with a sweet voice. He was one of those people that had been hospitalized before summer started, so you already knew the man and you really cared about him.

You tried breathing normally again as you told him that nothing was wrong, just that you had a lot of things to do that morning and you couldn’t risk being late. You checked Mr. Choi’s glucose and chatted a bit with him. His wife would be visiting him soon, so you said goodbye to him and promised that you’d say goodbye again that afternoon before going home.

“Y/N,” a voice called out your name again as you stepped out of Mr. Choi’s room. Jimin had been waiting for you outside, his back resting against the opposite wall.

You ignored him as you kept walking along the corridor.

“Please, Y/N, wait,” he pleaded. You stopped so abruptly he almost bumped against your back. Your head was still spinning and you were mad at Jungkook, not Jimin, so you would at least hear what he wanted to tell you.

“What?” you said, turning around so you could face him.

You had only seen him one night, but you were sure that night he didn’t look half as tired and devastated as he did then, in the middle of that corridor.

“I… Hey,” he softly smiled. “How have you been?”

You frowned. “I’ve been doing fine,” was all you answered, narrowing your eyes towards Jimin. His hair was no longer a pink shade. You nearly smiled as you remembered how his pink hair had reminded you of the cherry blossoms the night you met him. You nearly smiled as you remembered how his, now chestnut hair, reminded you of the brown, dead leaves that fell from the trees in autumn.

“I’m happy to hear that,” he said. He was looking at your eyes, looking calm and relaxed, but he was nervous, you could see it in the way he was playing with his grey jumper. “Please, you need to speak with Jungkook.”

You sighed. You spoke with Jungkook four months ago, and he already told you everything you needed to hear. “Sorry, I have things to do. Bye, Jimin, it was nice seeing you.”

You turned around, but a hand kept you from walking away. That same hand forced you to turn around again, softly. “Please, you’re the only one that can make him change his mind.”

“What? Change his mind about what?” you frowned. You hadn’t even given yourself time to think about everything. About why was Jungkook at the hospital.

“Talk to him, please,” Jimin pleaded you a last time.

You looked into his eyes for some more before nodding with your head. You were just going to talk to him, then you’d follow the rest of your schedule.

“Thanks,” Jimin said, suddenly embracing you in a tight hug. “Talk to him, talk to Jungkook,” he broke the hug with what you thought were tears in his eyes. He disappeared from the corridor and you were left alone.

You started walking towards Jungkook’s room. You stayed there, in front of his door for almost five minutes, just thinking. What would you feel when you saw him from up close once again? Why Jimin wanted you to talk to him? What was he going to tell you? Why was he at the hospital? And… What ‘you’re then only one that can make him change his mind’ meant?

You knocked on the door before opening and finding Jungkook’s eyes again. You doubted for a moment, not daring to step into the room.

“Come in, please,” Jungkook said, his voice softer than you ever remembered it.

You nodded and closed the door behind your back. You kept your back pressed against the shiny material of the door. Your eyes examined Jungkook, and his eyes took their time to examine you too.

“Well, here I am,” you said, hoping he would tell you already what was going on. Why he suddenly wanted to talk to you.

“I…” he looked around him, his facial expression changed as his eyes landed on the different devices that were connected to his body. His eyes closed for a moment but when he opened them again, they found you immediately. “How are you?”

You huffed and crossed your arms over your chest. “I’m fine,” you said, in a monotone voice. You didn’t want to sound rude, but after all those months waiting for something to happen…

“Are you still an intern?” he asked.

“Yes,” you answered. He asked you a couple more questions about your life, you giving him the same answers: yes or no. “Jungkook, I’m not here so you can ask me questions.”

“Sorry,” he murmured. “I just wanted to speak with you for a bit. To know how you have been doing.”

“Well, you told me that after fucking me you couldn’t get anything else from me, so I don’t get why you want to know about me all of a sudden,” you said as Jungkook flinched at your harsh words.

“Don’t say that, please,” he pleaded, closing his eyes again.

“I’m just telling you what you told me,” you shrugged, your eyes never leaving his.

“I didn’t mean it, I was just trying to distance you from me,” he sighed.

“Yes, you were trying to distance me from you because you had already gotten everything you wanted from me, right?” you said, sounding cruel, pouring everything that had been eating you up from the past months in your harsh words.

“Don’t say that!” Jungkook raised his voice. “I didn’t mean it!”

“And why did you say that, then?” you raised your voice too. “You knew I was in love with you. Why did you do that to me then, Jungkook?” you paused yourself so you could catch your breath. You waited for Jungkook to say something, but he just stayed there. “Why are you here?”

Jungkook’s eyes looked at the window instead of you. He had been delaying that moment, thas question, since you entered in the room. In that moment, you knew. But you waited for him to answer anyway.

“I’m…” he began to say, his eyes fixed in something else. Maybe the blue sky, so clear you couldn’t see a single cloud in it. Maybe the sun, shinning bright above you, its rays entering into the room. “I’m ill. I’ve always been ill but lately it has gotten worse.”

It all was a paradox, a cruel and beautiful paradox. The sun was shining, the weather was clearer than ever, but it all somehow stopped at the other side of the window that separated the small hospital room from the outside. Yes, the rays of sun entered into the room, but the energy and happiness that came with them didn’t. How can you feel energetic and happy when the boy you’re helplessly in love with tells you he’s ill? The world outside of that room carried on, but your world stopped in that moment, in that hospital room.

It was one of the most beautiful autumn days you had ever seen, and yet it became one of the saddest days of your life.

Of course you knew that Jungkook wasn’t okay since the moment you stepped into that room, but your silly and naive mind still hoped that he was there because he broke his leg skating or because he just had an appendicitis.

You were left breathless. He, somehow, always left you breathless.

“H… How ill?” you stupidly asked.

He swallowed harshly, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “I’m just ill, that’s all you need to know for now,” he looked at you again, his eyes finally leaving that outside world and stepping into your own world. When his eyes widened, you realised you were crying. He wasn’t just ill. “Don’t cry, please. Come over here Y/N.”

You shook your head no, but you still approached him until you were at the feet of his bed.

“You’ve always been ill?” you asked, sniffling as you tried to calm yourself. He nodded. “You knew this when we met?” you asked. He nodded. “Why didn’t you tell me?!”

Jungkook flinched a bit when you raised your voice. “I just… I just saw how happy and bright you were and I didn’t want to change that.”

You frowned, you waved your hands all over the place as you spoke. “And do you think I was going to be bright and happy when I found out by myself?!”

He sighed. “Okay, no, I didn’t think about that…”

You shook your head again and then rested it in between your hands, trying to assimilate everything. “I just need to set it all in…” you sighed.

Suddenly, you felt a hand against your shoulder, hesitant. Your head snapped up, and you gasped when you saw how close Jungkook was from you. A device started beeping as it had detached from Jungkook’s body.

“No, no, no, lay down, please,” you urged him, gently grabbing his cold hand and placing it next to him, over the bed. You connected the device again to Jungkook’s body, avoiding eye contact with him.

“I don’t want you to cry,” he whispered, sounding out of breath for the mere effort he had done of sitting himself up.

“And I don’t want you to get even worse. I won’t cry, I swear, but don’t move, please,” your voice was softer than before. Even after you connected the device to Jungkook’s body, your hand was still caressing the skin of his collarbone. He noticed and tensed up a bit, which you misunderstood and took a step back, separating your skin from his. “Tell me everything, I want to know everything.”

“Everything?” he repeated, as if making sure you wanted that.

You nodded, remaining by his side, but not touching him.

“I have an odd brain disease. It’s like Alzheimer, but different at the same time. My neural connections die a hundred times faster than yours, or even than the neural connections of a person with Alzheimer,” he couldn’t look at you in the eye. “My brain forgot about everything every week. Every Thursday I was like a blank piece of paper… Until my parents found out about an experimental treatment that helped neural connections reestablish themselves for a limited time. It worked for me, so every Thursday I had to go to the hospital to take that treatment… It was like chemo, but worst. It made me want to throw up, it made me forget about everything and then remember everything the next second, and the feeling was so strong it left me breathless and weak.”

“That’s why I saw you every single Thursday at the station,” you murmured. “You came from the hospital, not from the sports centre.”

He nodded. “I’ve been coming to this hospital to take my treatment since I was five. My parents and I moved to our neighbourhood so we could be relatively close to the hospital and so I could ‘have a normal live’” he smiled. You saw the sadness in his smile. The raw emotions of a boy that had been deprived of his childhood. You imagined a little Jungkook, sat in a room like this on his own, everything too white and boring for the happy and energetic boy with the bunny smile. “I come here every Thursday to remember what happened that week, and the week before. I come here so my brain can act like the brain of a normal person would, at least for one week more.”

“I’ve never heard about this,” you frowned, trying to settle all the information.

“That’s because just a handful of doctors and nurses know about it. It still is an experimental treatment after all,” he smiled again, and you hated him for it. Why was he trying to comfort you while he was the one who needed comfort? “I’ve known the perks and the risks of this all my life… Or at least I thought I knew all of them until last year. My body doesn’t react to the treatment as it did anymore. Each time, the doctors increased the dose, I felt worst and it worked less.”

You absentmindedly approached your hands towards his. You intertwined your fingers, letting your warm skin heat up his cold one.

“And then I entered one Thursday into the station, it was an ordinary Thursday, just like the rest. But that Thursday I found a bookmark lying on the floor and it turns out that it belonged to the girl that always got scared each time I threw my skate onto the floor. And you know what? Each Thursday, I threw it even harder to the floor so that girl would look at me and then she’d get all flustered when I would caught her looking at me,” he said, his voice soft as he told you the story.

You sniffled again. “Let me guess… That girl was wearing a grey jumper and black jeans?”

“Woah, I don’t know, I forget things, remember?” he said before laughing loudly at his bad joke, you smiled softly, wondering how he could still smile when he was going through one of the darkest moments of his life.

“You shouldn’t joke about this,” you sounded serious, and you were.

“Sorry, I just… I accepted what I have a long time ago. I sometimes forget that people around me can be hurt by my jokes about it. Sorry,” he looked at you in the eyes and wondered how your eyes could still bright up his world, even if they were covered in tears, red and puffy.

Your eyes. Your eyes were what caught his attention first, they way he could read you like an open book through them. Even in the beginning of your relationship, he could see your soul through them, so pure and so untouched, that he immediately was bewitched by it.

Since you didn’t seem to have any intentions of speaking, he continued with it.

“At first you were that girl I spoke with in the train, that girl that somehow made me enjoy Thursdays a bit. And by winter, you were the girl that made me wish that it’d be Thursday as soon as possible every single week,” he smiled and looked at your intertwined fingers. “I would always replay your face and our conversations in my mind so I wouldn’t forget about you, I would even write it all down in a piece of paper, but at the end of the week, you’d be a mere few paragraphs written in my notebook. Like the rest of my life,” he swallowed, his eyes never leaving your fingers. A shiver run down your spine when his fingers started caressing yours.

“You… You knew how I felt towards you?” you asked.

He took a deep breath. “I could see it in your eyes every single Thursday.”

“So, that night…” you began to say, referring to that awful night. If you could go back in time…

Ignoring your previous words, Jungkook sat himself up in the bed.

“Jungkook, I told yo-” you scolded him, trying to move away your hands from his. He didn’t let you. He had let you go once, he wouldn´t make the same mistake twice.

“That night,” he interrupted you. “That night I felt everything I did-”

“You were drunk, I was drunk… You told me it had been fun but nothing else, at least for you,” you whispered, your face inches from his.

“I wasn’t drunk, I cannot drink while I’m taking the treatment. And you say you’re a nurse?” he smiled. It was one of his sweet smiles.

“But… But I saw you take the tequila shots a… And you were drinking and you… You looked like you were drunk,” you babbled, trying to remember that night.

“I was drinking coke, yeah. And I didn’t take the shots, but you were so occupied taking yours that you didn’t even notice,” he said. You looked so cute, looking at your intertwined fingers, your cheeks a beautiful shade that reminded him of the cherry blossoms you loved so much.

“So… Everything that happened…” you mumbled again, unable to look at him in the eye.

“Everything that happened was because I wanted it to happen and I wanted it to happen with you,” he said, putting his finger under your chin and making you look at him. He smiled, at the sight of your beautiful eyes covered in tears once more. “I wanted to make love to you and so I did, and it was one of the most beautiful nights of my life, and I don’t regret any part of it.”

“And why did you tell me that all you wanted to do was to fuck me?” you narrowed your eyes.

“Because the next morning when I woke up next to you and I didn’t recognise you, I panicked. When I got home and I read about you in my notebook I understood that I had to distance myself from you if I didn’t want to hurt you,” he winced, as if there mere fact of remember taking that decision hurt him. In fact, it did.

“Well, you did. What you told me in the train… It just made me feel like I was useless,” you said, making Jungkook wince again.

“I know, and I won’t ever have enough words to tell you how sorry I am about that, but I achieved what I wanted. You distanced yourself from me, because I wasn’t strong enough to distance myself from you,” he gulped, looking at you in the eye, hoping that maybe someday you would be able to forgive him. Even if he was no longer by your side. “I love you, Y/N. I love you every single day of the week, but as it comes to an end, it’s more and more difficult for me to remember who I am in love with. Even though I love you with all my heart, my mind keeps forgetting about you.”

As you closed your eyes, tears rolled down your cheeks, ending in Jungkook’s fingers, which were softly caressing your skin.

“I love you too,” you said. “I was so afraid you wouldn’t feel the same, that when you runned away from me the morning after sleeping together I thought I had fucked up everything.”

“How could I not feel the same when you love The Name of The Wind and Iron Man?” he joked, trying to make you laugh. And you did, you laughed a bit because he was like that, he could make you smile in the saddest moment of your life. He could appear in your life like the bright light of a lighthouse could appear in the middle of the sea to brighten up the sailor’s path. He could appear into your life, like s train stepped into the station, the air that it created as the machine stopped, playing with your hair; leaving you breathless.

As you were laughing, he placed both of his hands on both sides of your cheeks and he sweetly pressed his lips against yours. You hummed a bit, missing the feeling of his sweet mouth covering yours.

“What now, Jungkook?” you said, suddenly remembering Jimin’s words and softly moving away from him. “Why did Jimin tell me that I was the only one that could make you change your mind?”

He shook his head, as if telling you to forget about it. He hoped you would forget about it as he kissed you again, this time eagerly than before. He tasted sweetly, but you found a new taste in his kiss. It tasted like goodbye.

You moved your lips away from his again. “You’re not taking the treatment anymore, are you?”

The idea somehow popped into your mind and as you looked into his dark eyes, you found the answer to your question. You always found your answers in his eyes. The answer was “yes”.

You moved away from him even more, as he stood there, silent, looking at you his a sorrowful expression all over his beautiful features.

“What will happen if you don’t take the treatment anymore?” you said, your voice was barely a whisper.

“I just… My brain will not only forget about people and things that happen in my everyday life,” he said, his voice was barely a whisper too.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“My brain will forget to breathe, will forget to make my heart beat inside my ribcage,” he said, his voice somehow becoming serious, as if he was sure about what he was saying.

A sudden wave of need and fear spread through your body, you approached him and kissed him passionately, pouring your heart into the kiss, hoping you’d make him change his mind as Jimin told you.

“You can’t leave the treatment. You have to keep living, for yourself, for me Kookster,” you breathed.

He smiled, his lips still touching yours has his hands covered yours, which were caressing his cheeks, your index finger tracing the soft scar he had on one of his cheekbones.

“You hadn’t called me Kookster in a while,” he said, smiling at the soft nickname that one day escaped from your beautiful lips. He smiled at he remembered how you had flushed after saying the nickname. He smiled as he remembered how rosy your cheeks got when you told him how you had been thinking about a nickname for him because Jungkook was just too long.

“I’m being serious, Jungkook,” you said, your tone changing. “If you don’t take the treatment you’ll die. We’re not joking here, we’re talking about your life.”

The smile disappeared from his lips as he understood you were being serious. Nevertheless, you never stopped caressing his cheeks and it comforted him. He wanted you all for himself until the end of his days. He wanted to be selfish, kiss you again and ask you to stay by his side during the journey he was about to take until his last stop. He wanted to have you by his side when everything turned black. But he wanted even more to see you smile. He wanted to see that beautiful, pure smile. He wanted you to be happy, living a long and satisfactory life. He wanted you to become a great nurse.

He was going to take the last doses of his treatment, a stronger one that would keep him alive some more time. How much more? No one knew. Maybe it could be six months, six weeks. Or maybe it could be less than two weeks. No one knew. He wanted to travel. Maybe go to Greece, find Hercules and the tales he loved when he was a kid.

“I can’t stand it anymore, Y/N,” he breathed, moving away from your touch, making your hands fall onto the bed. “Everyone thinks that they know what I’m going through, but no one knows… No one knows what it is to wake up in a strange bed every week, a bed that has always been mine. No one understands what it is like to speak with two people that tell you that you’re their son. It is awful, awful not to remember anything, to see the pain in the eyes of those who love you. It’s awful to then come here, take the treatment and remember all at once. It hits you with so much force you want to throw up, Y/N,” he grabbed your hands in between his. “I’m tired of hurting people and tired of hurting myself. I don’t wanna live another day scared that I would forget something and never again get it back.”

You tasted your salt tears as they slipped into your mouth.

“Don’t cry. I’m sure about this, it’s what I’ve always wanted. If I can’t live a normal life, those around me will be finally able to do so,” he smiled, and his smile wasn’t sad or melancholic, it was pure and radiant, as it had always been. “Did you know that seeing someone reading a book you love is seeing a book recommending a person?”

You sniffled, leaning towards Jungkook’s touch as he caressed your cheeks, whipping away the tears. You nodded a bit as you had heard that phrase before.

“Well, that day at the station, The Name of The Wind recommended you to me,” he whispered, his face getting closer to you. “It was the best recommendation anyone has done to me in my entire life. I don’t regret a thing. I don’t regret making you laugh and laughing at your stupid jokes and conspiracy theories. I don’t regret falling in love with you.”

“And neither do I,” you began to say. “And that’s why you should think twice about not taking the treatment anymore,” he was just about to interrupt you when you noticed, and continued speaking. “I don’t know what you are going through right now, I’ve never experienced anything like that. What I know is that we deserve to be together.”

He sighed. Oh, how he wished you had time to be together. “I know, I know…” his thumb traced circles over the soaked skin of your cheek.“But the thing is that the treatment isn’t working for me anymore. If I keep taking it, maybe I’ll live another year, maybe even two. But there will be one, or two, more awful years living in this body that can’t keep up with me.”

You swallowed. You knew he was right, but you were selfish. You were human after all, and for the human being, death was something to be scared of, not something you were willing to embrace, like Jungkook did.

“I know I’ll remember you until the last of my days,” he said, lifting your head up. “I’ll remember who I love and that’s more than I ever dreamt off. Not even in my sweetest dreams had I ever dreamt about meeting a girl like you.”

How could he forget about you when you were everything he was made of? Every fibre of his body carried your name written on it. Every fibre had your smell, your laugh, your bad and good jokes, your tears, your words, your gazes, your little sniffles. You had given him something he wanted to remember more than anything.

“This is my goodbye, Y/N,” he whispered, his touch felt like daggers as his words stabbed your heart. “I don’t want you to see me at my lowest. I want you to remember the Jungkook that gave you your bookmark back. Look at me. Where are my oversized hoodies? And my muscled thighs that you loved so much?” he softly laughed as he joked.

His laugh felt like daggers, straight to your already broken heart.

You shook your head, stepping away from Jungkook. His hands were the ones that fell onto the bed then.

“You… You can’t just leave me like this,” you murmured, taking small steps back. Everything about him was breaking you. It wasn’t because of his goodbye, or because of his illness. It was because he looked happy, happier than you had ever seen him in fact. He wanted that. He didn’t want to add another comma to his story. He wanted to add a full stop. He wanted not to forget or remember anymore. “I… I can’t, I can’t say you goodbye when my heart’s not ready for letting you go.”

The boy swallowed. He could see the hurt in your eyes and he hated himself for being the cause of it. But he knew he would the hurt in your eyes would be nothing compared to the hurt he saw that morning when he woke up next to you. When he didn’t know who you were. He hated himself as he remembered how he had thought you were just another pretty face. How he had looked into your eyes and had felt nothing, just a strange familiarity. Now, when he looked into your eyes he could see the entire world, his world.

Hi saw cherry blossoms in your eyes, remembering how the light up each time you admired them from the train. Jungkook felt a pang of pain in his chest, knowing he wouldn’t see another cherry tree blossom again. Knowing he wouldn’t see the pink colour of the beautiful flowers reflected in your eyes. Knowing he wouldn’t spend another spring day by your side.

“I can’t let you go, Jungkook. Sorry,” was all you said before looking one last time to the boy’s eyes before sprinting out of the room and into the changing room. You cried, thinking about the unfairness of life. Life was greedy, she wanted the purest souls just for herself.

That night you dreamt about unknown train stations and new destinations, places to visit and fall in love with. About a Thursday afternoon, fallen bookmarks and doe eyes. You dreamt about two young people, rosy cheeks and silly smiles on their faces. They reminded you of someone, but you never saw their faces clearly. Anyway, their faces weren’t what you looked into that night, as you looked into their hearts.

And they were in love.

Over a fallen bookmark on a Thursday afternoon.

. . .

You had never been good at sports, let alone running. But as you ran through the corridors of the hospital, without your ordinary clothes still on, you even enjoyed the feeling. You enjoyed the way you created a soft wave of air as you passed by someone, the air playing with their hair, leaving them breathless as they turned around to look at the stupid girl that was running through the hospital’s corridors on a Thursday morning.

But you didn’t care. Maybe it was what people liked about running: it made you feel somehow, free.

The dream you had had the night before was still replaying in your mind, over and over again. Vivid images of the young lovers pushing you towards the familiar room of the hospital.

“Jungkook!” you nearly cried when you stepped into the plain white room. You were breathless from all the running, knowing that day he was returning home. He was leaving to hospital to never come back again.

The boy looked at you wide-eyed, his mouth forming a small “o”.

You run towards him, not even bothering to close the door behind your back. You placed both of your hands on both sides of his face and you leaned in, so you could touch his lips with yours.

Jungkook was confused. When you stepped out of his room the previous day he knew there was a chance that he would never see you again, since he was planning on flying to Greece the next day.

He saw tears in your eyes when you pulled away from him, your noses still touching.

“A year ago, a boy in a skate and an oversized t-shirt handed me this,” you whispered, pulling out the damaged bookmark from your backpack. You handed the rectangular piece of paper to Jungkook, who was still in shock. “And I immediately fell in love with him. Over a fallen bookmark on a Thursday afternoon.”

Jungkook couldn’t hold the tears back anymore as he hugged you and held the bookmark in between his fingers. When you broke the hug, Jungkook took a moment to observe the bookmark. That Thursday, a year ago, he was so dazed because of you that he didn’t take a moment to look at the piece of paper.

It was plain black, your favourite colour. But when he twirled it, he found some small white letters on it.

“Seeing someone reading a book you love is seeing a book recommending a person,” he whispered.

“I wasn’t aware that it was written on my bookmark until I heard you say it yesterday,” you smiled. “Jungkook, you were recommended to me, and I always read those books other people recommend to me. I’m trying to do the same with people.”

“But-” he began to say.

“Yesterday I acted like a selfish little girl. A coward, selfish little girl,” you sighed, interrupting Jungkook and intertwining your hands with his as you had done the previous day. “I’ve never been a coward, I’m not going to act like one now.”

“W… What are you talking about?” the boy looked at you with a frown in his face. You touched the scar on his left cheek, the tip of your finger making goose bumps appear all over his body.

“Even if you decide not to take the treatment anymore, I’ll be by your side. Every single day, and when you don’t remember me, I’ll introduce myself again to you, like I did that Thursday afternoon a year ago,” you said. Your voice was like a soothing balm to him.

“But I told you yesterday that I wanted you to remember the boy from a year ago, not… This one,” he said, the derogatory tone in his voice making you shiver.

“This boy is the same boy I met a year ago. Nothing has changed, just your physical appearance,” you whispered, your hands still caressing his. “Do you really think I’m that frivolous?”

He shook his head. Clearly, you weren’t understanding what he was trying to say. “When I told you in the train that I wanted to save you the heartbreak, I meant it. I pushed you away from me because I don’t wanna hurt you-” you opened your mouth as if going to interrupt him, but he shushed you. “I’m gonna die, Y/N. I don’t know if it’ll be in two months, six or just one week. It is going to be a tough journey and I don’t wanna drag anyone down with me.”

You finally interrupted him because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut anymore. “I know what I’m signing up for Jungkook, and I don’t care.”

“You think you don’t care because that morning when I looked at you and I didn’t recognise you, you thought I had been drunk the night before, or that I was just lying to you to avoid you. But you don’t know what is like to love someone that loves you back, but sometimes forget about it. You don’t know what is like to look at me in the eyes and see a stranger there. It destroyed my parents, I don’t want it to destroy you too,” he said. But you had thought about it, about it all.

“I think you’re underestimating me, Jeon Jungkook,” you said. Of course you knew you’d hurt, that there would be more bad days than good ones. That you wouldn’t be the same at the end of it all. But you knew too, that you loved Jungkook with all your heart, and you wanted to spend his last days with him, no matter if they were twenty, six months or an entire year.

“You just deserve someone who can love you until the end of your days, someone that can be there with you every single morning, waking un by your side and remembering your face…” his voice cracked at the end.

“Jungkook don’t say that,” you said, raspy voice and furious tears running down your cheeks. Jungkook tried approaching you to wipe away your tears, but you took a step away. “I’ll love you until the end of my days and even if you don’t remember me, you will still love me deep inside you.”

The boy you had fallen in love with, nearly a year ago shook his head. “You know that’s not how this works. If I keep doing this, if we keep doing this, I’ll bury you down with me,” he took a deep breath. “Maybe I won’t love you until the end of your days, but I’ll love you until the end of mine, but that’s not enough for you.”

You looked at him in the eye, making all his walls fall down. “That’s more than enough for me.”

. . .

It was a sweet autumn, the sweetest you have ever lived, in fact.

You learned to love the orange and brown colours that decorated the nearly naked threes of Seoul as you learned to love by Jungkook’s side. Being by his side was like a constant lesson. You learned from him and in exchange, he learned from you. From your lively eyes and your bright smile. He learned from the girl he loved that time was precious, even if you had a little left. That you could make the most out of anything if you really wanted to. And so he did.

He made the most out of the little time he had left.

A week after Jungkook was discharged from the hospital, you finally convinced him to let you fly with him to Greece. You’d have to skip university and the internship, but you didn’t care. The long journey by plane from Seoul to Greece reminded you of those Thursday afternoons you shared with him in the train on your way home. You spoke, laughed, read… You were that young couple everyone observed in the train, with yearning eyes from past memories.

You learned that Jungkook loved the ancient mythology, its myths and characters. He told you the tales of Aquiles, of Hercules, Troy and its wooden horse. You loved how his entire face lit up whenever he spoke about something he loved, with so much passion, pouring his heart in everything he loved. But the thing you loved the most about it all, was how his entire face lit up whenever he looked at you, or smiled at you, or just whenever he said your name.

Every day, when you would arrive to the hotel after an exhausting day, he would sit on the bed, writing what had happened that day on his notebook.

He had his bad and his good days. You would love to say that there were more good days than bad ones, but you’d be lying to yourself.

As days went by, Jungkook started to feel how something slipped away from him, little by little. That something slipped through his fingers and he couldn’t do anything to stop it. Whenever you kissed him, he would come back to you. Whenever you made love to him, he would come back to you. Whenever you traced your fingers over his skin, slightly stopping at his little moles that you called stars, he would come back to you.

You made him make the most out of the little time he had left.

But not everything was ideal and rosy. There were days when you would wake up to a crying Jungkook in the bathroom, covered in sweat and scared. Scared because he didn’t know where he was, why he was in Greece or who was that girl that was comforting him with such love in her beautiful eyes. You would try to cover the pain each time Jungkook looked at you with those oblivious eyes, knowing that he just needed time to come back to you. As he would read his notebook in the bathtub, you would cry in the balcony of your hotel room, trying to hide your tears from Jungkook.

There were days when you were just walking around the ancient city, or having dinner at some cozy restaurant, and he would suddenly look at you with a frown on his face. He would start crying and shouting like a little lost boy, calling for his parents, his friends. He would yell towards you. “Who are you?” “Why am I here?”. After you would give him his medicine, he would calm down and he would let you take him to the hotel, where he would break down, apologizing to you as everything he had done came back to his mind again.

That hurt more than the oblivious eyes, the screams or the tears. The way Jungkook hurt each time he came back to you, crashed you down into pieces, pieces he would later put back into place as he kissed you, made love to you and reminded you how much he loved you as he pushed into you.

By the time you returned to Seoul, it was already winter.

Winter, nevertheless, wasn’t as sweet as autumn was.

Jungkook was worst each day. Not only physically, but mentally. He kept coming back to you after each episode of amnesia, but you started realising he wasn’t fully coming back to you. A part of him stayed behind each time.

He began being colder and distant towards you, without even realising it. He could feel it too, that missing part of him that had stayed behind since the last episode of amnesia. All the hurt, all the tears, the cries, the shouting, disappeared as he began to feel nothing.

Winter was bitter and cold, just like the wind and the snow that covered Seoul.

Happy memories with Jungkook started lessening and now you can only remember one.

You had just stepped out of the hospital after a tough day of internship when you noticed the tall and lean figure waiting for you outside.

“Kookster?” you said, your voice trembling a bit.

Even though you saw him every day, you never knew which Jungkook you would be facing. That night, the smile he directed towards you let you know he was him, your Jungkook. You ran towards him and he kissed you with force. Something in him knew that night would be his last night with you, not physically, but mentally. Something in you, knew that too.

He insisted on blindfolding you with his scarf and you gave in, smiling as he led you with his hands placed on your hips. He didn’t stop talking to you, so you couldn’t guess where he was leading you. But when he came to a stop and his hands left your hips, you immediately recognised where you were. The noise, the wind, the smell…

And you suddenly heard it, the loud impact of hard wheels making contact with the ground. You smiled as a soft wave of air played with your hair.

As he passed by your side, on his skate, he observed you as much as he could, knowing that it would probably be his last chance to do so. He felt like he was falling in love with you all over again.

“You can take it off,” he said, making you jump a bit as you didn’t expect him to be so close to you.

When you took his scarf off, you saw Jungkook holding a notebook in his hands.

“Hey, sorry. I think you dropped this,” he said, repeating the exact same words he said to you the first time.

You smiled and blinked a few times, stopping the tears to fall down your face. “I think that’s not mine, sorry.”

“Oh, but now it is,” he said, smiling at you, with that bunny smile you hadn’t seen in a while.

With a wide smile, you grabbed the notebook, but before you could open it, he put his hands over you to stop you from doing so.

“Save it for later, we have a train to take,” he said, as the train entered the station. As it came to a stop, the air it created, played with yours and Jungkook’s hairs. You understood what he meant with “later”.

He took you to a restaurant you both loved in your neighbourhood. You chatted, both of you forgetting about everything: about winter, about time, about his disease… You were looking at each other, both with silly smiles on your faces. You smiled widely when you thought about what someone would think if they looked at you both in that moment. They’d probably see a boy and a girl whose life had just started, young and beautiful, falling in love under the dim lights of the Italian restaurant. And oh, they’d be right, for you were so in love with each other.

That night, as Jungkook made love to you for the last time, you both took you sweet time caressing each other’s skin. Love words were exchanged between the young lovers, their ephemeral love story coming to an end. You looked at his dark, loving eyes for the last time. He kissed your rosy lips for the last time, taking his time to caress every inch of your body, to listen to your moans and your voice whispering his name, wanting to remember you with everything he had.

Jungkook never came back to you after that night. His eyes never recognised you anymore, even though you knew his heart did. Each day, when you visited him, you introduced yourself as his friend. He would be nice to you, but that would be all. He was weaker, thinner and paler as days went by.

Jungkook left you and the rest of the world on a Thursday afternoon, cherry trees had bloomed again and pink cherry blossoms decorated Seoul’s streets. As you walked towards his funeral with Paula and Rae, you smiled. He had an unique way of doing things, even leaving the world, making sure everyone remembered him like he hadn’t been able to do. He lived in everyone’s minds and hearts. Making sure you remembered him and that he lived forever in your mind and heart. And how could he not? He was the love of your live, and he would always be.

That night you opened his notebook, finding your bookmark on the first page.

“To Y/N, who I hope always remembers me.”

You didn’t cry, nor did you feel sad. You fondly smiled as you read Jungkook’s memories.

. . .

He came to you like the air comes into the train station after the fast arriving of the machine.

It comes fast and unexpected, making you hoist your head to look at the long vehicle and the people inside. It is so fast you can’t even distinguish the different wagons.

As the train comes to a stop, the wind that it creates plays with your hair, leaving you breathless.

That’s how Jeon Jungkook came into your life.

That’s how Jeon Jungkook left it too.

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