#it’s very very local. takes you to a few towns & small cities

[https-hunter]

A little wwdits detail that I feel I must share with the world. You know how at the end of season three, Nandor leaves for his journey on a train in South Amboy, New Jersey?

That’s a local train station. It’s New Jersey Transit. The furthest out of state that’s gonna get him is New York City, where he probably came from, and Philadelphia.

Where did he think that was going to take him 😭

[triptuckers]

feels like home - tyler owens x reader

Request: nope Pairing: tyler owens x reader Summary: after years, tyler is back in his home town. so much has changed, yet everything is the same Warnings: some swearing, mentions of a slight panic attack, there's a tornado (surprise!), some angst, thats it I think?? Word count: 2.5K A/N: I know nothing about tornadoes. I do know if glen powell asked me to go storm chasing with him I wouldn't hesitate. also running on literally 7% left of my battery but fuck it we roll!! enjoy!

It’s spring. Tyler’s favorite season. During this time of year, it’s peak tornado season. It’s when he’s in his element, doing what he loves.

He’s driving across the U.S. with his loyal crew, chasing the tornadoes wherever they go. And always, inevitably, he ends up in his hometown. It’s a small town, right in the middle of tornado alley. 

Over the years, the people had started building their homes with stronger foundations that could withstand tornadoes better. Every year, there was still a lot of damage, but less than before. Most families had lived there for generations, and didn’t have any plans to move. 

When Tyler pulls up to the local bar, his crew is energized and happy. They’d just finished chasing a rather intense tornado, and everyone is still high on adrenaline. They’re going out for drinks before going to bed, as tomorrow’s weather forecast showed good chances of another tornado.

Little did Tyler know, someone he knows very well has also picked tonight to go out for drinks.

You’re sitting at your usual table with a friend, blowing off some steam after a long day. You like the bar. Everyone knows each other, the bartenders know your drink order and always have it ready for you before you can even order it.

It’s one of the things you missed the most while you were away; the kindness of the small town. You know everyone here, and you always help each other out. Especially during tornado season.

When Tyler steps in the crowded bar, he instantly spots a few familiar faces. Old neighbors, childhood friends, friends of his parents. Then his eyes land on you. His breath hitches in his throat as he watches you laugh at something your friend says. He had no idea you were back.

You look up when you see a group of people approaching you from afar. That’s when you see him. Exactly how you remember him, only a little older and with a belt buckle that says “tornado wrangler”. But you’d known him long before he called himself that.

You and Tyler had dated all throughout college, when you were both studying meteorology. Everyone knew you and while most couples broke up during college, you and Tyler stayed together.

But then Tyler started chasing tornadoes and you moved to a bigger city to enroll in an advanced PhD program. You agreed to part ways. It just felt too difficult to still be in a relationship when the two of you were always away.

But you never stopped loving him. You still watch all of his videos. And you don’t know it, but he reads all of your research articles.

He’s walking up to you now, and you forget you’re in a crowded bar with a friend. You don’t pay attention to the people he brought with him.

You smile warmly at him. ‘Hey, Ty.’

‘Oh, I wouldn’t do that, lady.’ says one of Tyler’s friends. ‘He hates when people call him Ty.’ 

He looks at Tyler, expecting him to say something snarky or mean to you, but he’s got a soft smile on his face.

‘Hey y/n.’ he says. ‘Still around, huh?’

‘Still around. I moved back after graduation. Even though people in a small town can be a handful sometimes, with everyone knowing everything about everyone, it’s still home.’

‘Yeah, it is.’ says Tyler.

Suddenly a few women approach Tyler, stealing him away from your conversation. Apparently, word got out the tornado wrangler is in town, and everyone wants to talk to him.

Tyler waves at you before taking off.

You’re looking at him as he walks away, and your friend nudges you.

‘I thought you guys broke up?’

‘We did. He went to go storm chasing, and I wanted to study more. It just wasn’t practical to stay together.’

‘But you still love him.’

You turn to look at your friend. ‘I never said I stopped loving him.’

‘So… kind of like right person, wrong time?’

‘Yeah, I guess.’

‘What are you waiting for then? He’s here now, go talk to him!’

‘Nah, he’s too busy with his crew. It was nice to see him though.’

You spend the rest of your evening chatting with your friend. You try to focus on the conversation and to not let your mind wander off to Tyler. He really looked good. And his crew looked like they are fun to hang out with. 

When it’s getting late, you walk over to the bar to pay for your drinks. You say goodbye to your friend and head out to the parking lot. 

You see Tyler and his crew standing around his red pick-up truck. They’re laughing and sharing a drink. Tyler spots you and waves at you from where he’s sitting on the hood of his car. You wave back as you get in your own truck. 

‘Tell me, who is she?’ says Boone, pulling Tyler from his throughs as he watches you drive off.

Before Tyler can answer, Lilly starts listing off possible answers. ‘Secret fiancée? High school sweetheart? Admirer? Girl you went on three dates with and then left?’ she counts on her fingers.

‘No, none of that.’ says Tyler.

‘Definitely looks like a high school sweetheart. She’s your age, from around here. I bet you two grew up together.’

Tyler sighs. They’re not gonna let this go. And since they’re all going storm chasing tomorrow, they’re probably going to annoy him about it until he answers them.

‘We did grow up together. She was not my high school sweetheart, more like my college sweetheart. We broke up when I became a chaser.’

‘Let me guess, she always called you Ty?’ says Boone.

Tyler smiles at the memory. ‘She did.’

‘Ohhh my boy is whipped!’ says Boone, giving Tyler a playful shove. 

‘Oh, fuck off, Boone. That’s all in the past. She probably has someone waiting for her at home.’

But you didn’t.

You hadn’t really dated anyone after your breakup with Tyler.

Sure, you’d been on a few dates people had set you up with. But somehow, it never felt right. It never felt like it did while you were with Tyler. Loving Tyler was just so easy. Like you were always meant to find each other.

When he walked in that bar earlier tonight, he looked different. Older, sure. But also very handsome. You could tell he loved being a chaser. You wish you could’ve talked more with him, just the two of you.

The next morning when you wake up, it’s much earlier than you would have liked. You didn’t have any plans today and wanted to sleep in. As you lay in bed, you hear the rain slam against the window. You’re used to it, and it usually doesn’t wake you up. 

But as the rain starts to get heavier, you hear the wind is picking up as well. You knew there was a tornado warning for this morning, but it wasn’t for your town. The tornado was supposed to move away from you. 

That’s when you hear the siren. It’s almost part of your routine, it’s so familiar. You’re quick to get out bed, grabbing your phone. As you race downstairs to get to your shelter, you pull up the weather map. Which shows the tornado going straight for the main street of town. Fuck.

You hastily pull on your boots and open the backdoor to your garden, which is where your shelter is. You run toward it, the wind whipping in your face and the rain soaking your clothes in seconds. 

It takes a lot of strength to open the shelter doors with the wind threatening to slam them closed again. Finally, you make it inside after nearly falling down the stairs. You close the doors and bolt them. 

Now all that’s left for you to do is wait until the tornado is gone. You switch on the tiny light and pull out a blanket. There’s not much here except for some canned food. If Tyler saw this, you just know he’d immediately go to the store to get more supplies “just in case”. 

Thinking of him, you pull out your phone. You’re thinking about calling him, when you notice you have no service. The tornado must have already done a lot of damage. 

Meanwhile, Tyler is in the of the storm, near the tornado. They’re ready to get some great shots, but something changes. 

The tornado was supposed to head east and then die out, but it’s too slow. Tyler squints his eyes, looking at it. It’s almost as if it’s getting closer again. 

He realizes what’s happening at the same time Boone yells ‘It’s turning around!’

And he’s right. The tornado is heading west again. And Tyler knows what’s there. His hometown. Your hometown.

‘Oh, fuck.’ he says. He prays that you’re safe. He knows you’re smart, you’re probably inside the shelter by now. But he still worries.

They wait out the tornado before driving back to the town, prepared to help in any way they can. Debris is scattered throughout the streets. People walk around, helping each other or trying to salvage what’s left of their possessions in the rubble of the houses. 

Ever since they got back, Tyler has been trying to call you. You’re not picking up. He’s desperately telling himself you know the protocols. Hell, you’ve lived in tornado alley your entire life. You’re probably taking inventory of the damage on your property right now. 

Meanwhile, you’ve been listening to the storm outside. It’s all quiet now, you don’t hear any rain or wind, or sirens. You climb up the stairs and push open the doors. Except they don’t open. You check all the hinges, which are all still secure in place. Then why won’t the doors open?

You walk back down the stairs as you slowly start to panic. There’s probably debris blocking the doors. You have no cell service. Everyone is busy with their own houses. How long would it take for someone to find you?

You’re trying desperately to stay calm. People will find you eventually, right? But soon the tears are streaming down your face. You’d been in this shelter before, but it’s terrifying when you can’t open the door and all you have is a dim light, some canned food, a blanket and a phone without service.

Tyler’s crew is helping the people in town. But he gets increasingly more worried when you won’t pick up a single of his phone calls. 

Lilly notices his worried glances at his phone while she’s handing out food to people. ‘Tyler.’ 

He looks up at her. Lilly jerks her head to his truck. ‘Go see if she’s alright. You know where she lives, right?’

Tyler nods. 

‘Go. We’ve got it here.’ says Lilly.

He takes a quick look around. Lilly is right, his crew can handle it here. He just really needs to know if you’re okay. 

There’s too much debris on the road, so Tyler ditches his truck and walks the rest of the way. He could walk this route with his eyes closed. The longer he walks, the more destruction he sees and the more the uneasy feeling in his chest grows.

What if you were somewhere buried in the rubble of your house and he never got a chance to ask you if you wanted to try again? To see if you still had that spark you had when you were younger? He knew you wouldn’t let him go that easily. It had hurt you both when you broke up. And seeing you again, it reminded him of all the time you had spent together during college.

When he finally gets to your house, he sees it’s mostly still intact. The walls are still standing, but the roof needs fixing. Most of your windows are broken and a tree had fallen on your truck.

Tyler rushes to the front door, which is hanging off its hinges. He quickly enters your house.

‘y/n? y/n! Where are you?’

When you don’t respond, he tries calling you again. 

‘Come on, pick up, pick up.’ he mutters. Still no answer. Damn it.

Where would you go during a tornado? He’s forcing his mind to stop spinning out of control so he can think logically. Then he remembers you have a shelter in your backyard. How could he forget? He even helped you stock it in case something like this happened.

He runs through your messy living room, pieces of broken glass crunching underneath his boots. When he gets outside, he sees your shed – or what’s left of it – on top of the doors to your shelter.

‘y/n!’ he yells again, running toward the shelter.

You faintly hear a voice yelling your name. You briefly think you’re actually going insane at that point. Your panicked mind is making this up because it knows Tyler gives you a feeling of safety. Tyler isn’t here, he’s most likely outside still chasing the damn tornado. There’s no way he’d be here.

‘y/n are you in there? Give me a shout if you can hear me!’

But that’s unmistakably his voice. You hear sounds outside near the door.

‘Ty?’ you say quietly. 

‘Come on! Are you in there?’

‘Ty!’ you say, louder this time.

Outside, Tyler lets out a big sigh of relief as he continues to draw away the debris from the doors of your shelter.

Finally, he can see the handle of one of the doors and yanks it open. 

You squint your eyes at the sudden sunlight. Your eyes are quick to adjust, and they land on Tyler.

Standing there, breathing heavily, looking at you and holding out his hand for you to take.

‘Ty..’ you say softly. Fresh tears start to run down your cheeks as you take his hand and allow him to pull you out of the shelter. 

He pulls you against his chest, one hand coming around your back and the other on the back of your head, holding you against him.

You allow yourself to get lost in the familiar feeling. Tyler still wears the same cologne, and you still fit perfectly in his arms. God, you missed him.

‘I was so scared.’ you mumble. 

‘I know, sweetheart, I know.’ says Tyler.

He pulls back slightly so he can look you in the eye. ‘Are you hurt?’ he asks.

You shake your head. ‘I got to the shelter as soon as I heard the sirens, like you taught me.’

Tyler smiles at you. ‘You did good.’

‘I brought my phone but there was no service and then I couldn’t open the door and I-‘

‘y/n.’ says Tyler, cutting you off. ‘You’re alright. I got you out.’

‘Thank you.’ you say, burying your head in his chest once more.

The two of you stand there for a while. You both need this right now.

‘Ty?’ you say.

He hums in response. 

‘Please don’t leave again.’

He presses a kiss to the top of your head.

‘I’m never leaving you again, sweetheart.’

A/N:If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rulesHere’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost, steal or translate my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love,Marit

[soarrenbluejay]

Supervillains for a community. (Well, except those jerks over in Gotham, insular lot, but they’re they’re one problem) Of course they do- supervillains are a group defined by strong opinions and a willingness to see them through, often with a healthy dash of societal failures and trauma as a catalyst.

The fentons, while not active even on the online message boards, are well known and explosive when they do show up, full of fascinating insights and hours long rants on mad science on hair pin turns courtesy of that ADHD attention span. Bit of the cryptids you feel honored to bump into kind of deal. Besides, like a good quarter of the community as it aged, they’d settled down and had kids (not necessarily in that order) and taken it very seriously! Out in the middle of nowhere, where even the most fearsome government outpost members, the local branch of the IRS, quake before them in fear. Out of the way.

Reveal gone okay-ish, Danny moves to Gotham still to get some air bc now things are Akward and he landed that engineering scholarship which is loads better than any other college would give him with his track record. So- the mysterious Fenton children are finally crawling out of hiding! Everyone is psyched! And roll in to Gotham en masse to witness the fireworks!

Except Danny is Determined To Be Normal. He’s had enough of the throwing himself into harms way shit for a lifetime- he wants to be free to peacefully built Rube Goldberg machines and unintentional increasingly complex bombs to his hearts content. JAZZ, on the other hand- the coveted token Normal One, has finally snapped! She’s watched her baby brother she practically raised throw himself into danger over and over and could do nothing, and now that she’s exposed to this whole network of superheroes outside of small town Amnity, some of those uglier emotions are coming out. And boy is she pissed! And can’t afford to show it much while filing the paperwork to have Arkham legally razed to the ground!

See I love this idea of like, niches in superhero society. A villain the heroes know they can plop their kiddo down with for an exciting afternoon brawl while they take care of a particularly grisly case and come back to a few hours later ranting about some new life lesson and a new move they really want to try. A villain who has a functioning moral compass despite their somewhat batshit long term goal and you can contact to fuck with another villains’s plan so they can laugh at them and you can have an easy afternoon. One who pries up hostile architecture and fills in pot holes, idk man. Get creative here, there’s such potential!

So Jazz becomes a Training villain- someone the heroes know their sidekicks will walk away from in a fight 100% of the time, usually with some new lesson to ponder and only a couple of bruises. Sometimes even snacks!

She also absolutely ambushes mentors to check that they’re worth the kiddo, which they appreciate once they get over being jumped in a dark alley by a 7 foot Amazon trained force of nature. They are not used to being on that side of the jumping, it’s a little unnerving.

(Yes, she low key adopts Shazam upon checking in with him on cursory ‘is the main hero of this city and asshole’ checkin. Yes, the super clones get yoinked out from under Superman’s negligent thumb to go have a blast with Ellie. What about it?)

This however only encourages more assorted weirdos to crawl out of the woodwork. It’s not often one of their own forfeits their potential spot for the running of the coveted Most Normal I Swear prize, but when they do it’s bound to be good! But jazz is off hounding various heroes and punching the faces in of pedophiles and shit whenever there’s no cape within easy reach, and so is a mite bit harder to contact than Danny, who has innocently gotten an apprenticeship under a clockworker for access to their workshop and is gleefully going about doing nerdy shit with great abandon.

Plus this is Gotham. No one gives a shit if someone in the Mad Alchemist uniform and still smoking from their latest experiment pokes their head in a window to bother the local shrimp teen- none of the usual social rules apply, everyone’s crazy here! So everyone drops any and all attempts at masking and just acts their genuine unhinged selves, much to the alarm of the Bats and frustration of Danny.

Bc he cannot get these mfers to go. Away. Even liberal use of the creep stick has little effect when the interloper is calibrated for an opponent with super speed or laser vision or whatever, and he’s trying to maintain his guise as a Normal College Student Do No Investigate.

So he calls in the big guns. He’s not super active in the supervillain kids group chat ever since things in amnity calmed the fuck down post becoming King and then immediately using a loophole that says he will not take the throne until he is grown, as defined by finishing learning his trade a la the medieval standards Pariah set up. So he can just take his sweet ass time with his graduate degree and out of inter dimensional bull shit that much longer! Point is, he hasn’t taken the chance to rant over there in a while, so his Crazy friends are getting a lil worried.

The change to come over and shout at their batshit crazy but (mostly) well meaning parent AND see Danny? Score!

The bats, however, are getting awfully suspicious about this one kid that villains from all over the country are flocking to, especially young and upcoming ones as of recently! And he’s acting his engineering course- all the worst rogues are known to have flown through their PhD studies prior to Cracking. They seem to have a real problem on their hands with this Fenton guy.

[sushirrrry]

wrangled

a harry styles one-shot. 14k words. cw: age-gap, sexual content, spitting, spanking, squirting, dirty talk, humiliation kink, coarse language, dom/sub kink

Forte Ranch.

Kettle Falls, Washington.

June Forte is the 24 year old daughter of Travis Forte– the owner of the largest bison ranch in eastern Washington. When she returned home from college, her wishes of becoming a teacher in the area land her with a few different jobs– one that also includes the family business.

It's not lost on her that when she starts noticing that a superbly handsome, older ranch-hand who introduces himself in a deep-posh accent as Harry Styles, that she seems to lose a bit of focus on the picture: make enough money to leave Kettle Falls for good.

But, the older man seems to keep running into her no matter how many times she tries to leave. Maybe, she recognizes, that it isn't a coincidence.

When Harry and June are one day left alone, the tensions are higher than ever. Once June gets a taste, her intuition starts to let her know that maybe seeing the dimples underneath the brim of the Stetson is easier to lean into rather than run from.

He's not letting her run away that easy.

"Goddamnit, Fury– let's go!"

She pulled at the lead; the rope pulled at her hands a bit when the horse continued to stand his ground, obviously more powerful than her.

A quick sigh, a puff of air to move some of the hair off of her face. June couldn't help but groan at the horse's stubbornness that kept him inside the confines of his stall.

She had a lesson in an hour now. Not that it would have been a huge deal— the family that she taught for were very laid back, but her need to follow a schedule made Fury's outburst quite annoying as it would take a bit of time to get him out now.

The horse-riding lessons that she had been giving were supplementing the cash flow through the summer. Next year, she would be starting a position as a teacher at one of the local schools in the area. June had gone to school in Seattle; it was the biggest culture shock for her when she arrived in the big city.

From growing up on the ranch to moving to the big city with just what she could fit in her dad's pick-up–she had loved every moment of it. She loved seeing the way that the traffic built up everywhere in the early mornings, the honking horns, the sleepy travelers in the coffee shops every morning.

It was a learning experience that she had been blessed with. But, in reality, her heart stayed in the eastern mountains; the smell of the fresh air every morning gave her such a high that she hadn't been expecting to miss with her whole heart.

Living on this ranch, in this small town, had been in her heart this whole time. She hadn't recognized how much of her she still had to learn.

When you're young, you want so bad to leave. Then, you see the rest of the world, and you find home so much more appealing. It feels secure, it feels like a place that you can come back to when you're finished exploring.

It's a place to relax. A place to replenish. A place to house your soul.

Now, she say her fighting with her horse who seemed to have the upper-hand.

"Fury, if you don't come on," She rubbed the horse's nose, giving him a look as he tilted up his head quickly. "You're being so stub—"

"Might wanna give him something to entice him."

The sound behind her makes June jump with a fright, a gasp escaping as she had been lost in her own world. There's a man standing on the opposite side of her now, unlocking the gate of the horse stall. She hadn't noticed him before, so she wondered how long he had been standing there watching her struggle with the ropes her hands. 

A chestnut mare stands, grunts softly in front of him as he looks back at her. June recognized the man, which didn't seem to happen often. The farm has lots of people coming through, many stay for weeks– months, maybe. The summer months are preparing for the winter; she knew that a lot more came around at this time of the year.

But she recognized him.

There wasn't a person who wouldn't.

The man's accent threw her for a moment– not realizing if she had heard him speak before. She mustn't have, or she'd know the low drawl of a foreign tongue.

But there's a few certain men that have been around for a bit. This man, in particular, she thought. He wears his hair longer, a bit down on his ears. He pushes it back into his Stetson, the chocolate curls have grown every time she sees him closer.

He has a soft scruff along his jawline that was really only visible up close; a white tank top that has seen better days when it was a pure white on the rack. June lets her eyes wander for a moment before she sees that he notices, a hint of pink painting her cheeks as she watches that he seems to go on about his day without another word.

Not to mention: if you stared at him in the heat of the eastern Washington sun, it was entirely too close to see the shade of green that his eyes shone. They practically became translucent at how luminous they became.

June was a bit taken; her hands adjust on the lead as she watched the man throw a bridle over the large mare's nose. He clicked his tongue to get her to follow, the mare following him out of the stall easily. June watched at how easy it was; she knew Fury was a bit hard-headed to begin with, so it couldn't have been that easy no matter what he had said to her.

As the man started walking away just a bit, Fury took a step forward which helped June aid him out of the stall. It threw her for a moment, her body moving forward to help lead the horse where he needed. He followed, though a bit slowly as he shook his head when she pulled in the lead towards the saddling. 

"See, told you," The man spoke once again, nodding his head a bit towards his mare, "Men are always enticed by pretty ladies."

He had taken the saddle off of the stand, throwing it over the mare's back. June's eyes stared at the way his muscles popped through the sleeveless shirt, pushing the heavy riding saddle up further on the horses back.

"Going for a ride?" The man spoke again, watching as June hooked Fury up to stand so that he was secured. June hadn't spoken yet, feeling her voice caught in her throat over the way that he had been a bit chatty with her.  Her eyes drifted over to him, knowing he had been talking to her again which elicited a response.

She bit her lip, pulling up on the loops of her jeans that hugged around the curve of her hips.

"No, I teach, actually." June commented, brushing down Fury's neck before pushing some of his mane out of his eyes.

The horse chewed a bit, making her smile as his lips tried to nip at her arm. "Have a lesson soon. He's the best with kids, gives them a hard time but it's good for them to learn how to be a bit more assertive. He listens when you're real strict with him, just not well."

"Really all the qualities of a man, huh?" The man smirked; they stood next to each other at the station before June looked over and he had started to move towards her. His hand outreached, his eyes truly on her now as they became closer with each step he took. "Harry Styles."

June swallowed back, her hand moving out towards his as they locked together in a moment. "June Forte. You're a worker here?"

Harry's eyes shift for a moment when he notices the deep blue of her eyes and the familiarity of her generational smile. His tongue flicks out to run over his bottom lip as he lets his eyes drag over her a moment. June squirms under his vision, her breath halted as he takes his hand away and their touch loosens.

"And this is your ranch, I presume." He speaks, his words standing in the air.

June shrugs her shoulders up as if his comment didn't mean much. "Not mine– well, my family's, so technically will be mine or my siblings someday. My dad's dream was to own it, and I guess now he does. Was my grandads, and my great-grandads. He built it, and it's just a family heirloom now. But yeah– we live up there."

Harry's breath baited for a moment, a small scoff of a chuckle leaving his lips as he moved back towards the mare. The mare stomped on the ground, his hand moving to comfort her outburst.

"Guess I don't need to be flirting with the ranch owner's daughter, then. May be a conflict of interest."

June raised a brow at his words, feeling a hotness come across her neck as she moved to throw the big brush through Fury's chestnut coat. She faced away from him now, her head turning to look over her shoulder at the way he continued to smirk at her.

For the first time in a while, June's sharp tongue felt dull. She didn't know what to say as she felt some hair fall into her face as she managed to push the heavy brush through the horse's coat.

"Never been a huge rule follower, though." He followed up, pulling the reins of the tacked horse; he walked backwards out of the barn with his eyes on June– the shape of her body only let his eyes fall down and around her curves.

A soft chuckle came from her lips as she heard the clicking of his tongue, guiding the mare out. "Easy, cowboy." She called back, in a surprising quip, "My ranch, my rules."

"So now you're the boss?" He quipped, "giving me mixed signals, June." Harry paused for a moment, giving her a moment to comeback.

"Let's just say I'm pretty close to the guy in charge." June tilted her head, "But I'd say that flirting with the boss's daughter isn't in your best interest if you want to stick around."

June watched the man quickly bite his lip as if he was stopping himself from another remark.

"We'll see about that one." He called back, his boots crunching on the gravel once again, his eyes staying on her even when leading the large horse out of the barn. "Might be the opposite effect if I'm lucky."

June bit her lip at the thought of him– wondering if he had seen her before. Her legs adjusted just at the thought of his low, raspy voice. She hasn't heard it before, but now all she could hear was his words in the back of her head.

"Hope you find a four-leaf clover out there, gonna need it." June said back, watching as he moved away, a wink flying back at her.

She huffed, looking at her horse before a shake of her head made her feel a bit dizzy.

Maybe it wasn't the head shake that made her feel that way.

***

The following morning, Fury continued to give June quite a time. He was a stubborn horse, but she knew that he trusted her and vice versa. June never felt that she had a problem with him, he had been her horse for over ten years now.

June grew up with horses, riding and watching them was in her blood. She loved riding and watching people become more comfortable as they rode more. It was a pleasure for her to teach young kids to be comfortable and confident while riding, especially when it taught discipline and hard work.

Nothing about riding horses was easy– she continued to learn that the hard way. It took trust, and lots of effort to make sure that the animal underneath you trusted every part of you. The hardest part was putting your life in their hands. But, it was always worth taking that chance.

He kicked a few times, the young girl that she had for the lesson this morning was mostly scared that she was going to fall off. June reassured her that she would hold his lead, but that she needed to be strong.

"When you're scared, he's going to be scared," June tried to reassure her, watching the young girl— her name was Natasha, she was around eleven. "You have to be in control of him, and he's going to respond to you. But we can end the lesson a bit early if you're feeling some nerves— that's okay, too."

Natasha gave June a look; she was unsure, and June could read all over it. However, Natasha pushed through some of her nerves, which led to June eventually letting go of the reins and letting the girl trot some laps around the outside arena space.

"You got it!" She yelled over, staying on the fence, her eyes lighting up at the girl's excitement over her accomplishments of getting the horse to where she wanted him. "Let's loop around one more time, and then bring it back to the center."

June pushed her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. The outside training grounds was a large area of the ranch, covered by trees and small patches of grass. She tucked some hair behind her ear that had fallen out of the messy bun she pulled at the base of her neck.

A small noise caught her attention as she started to make her way to the center of the arena to meet Fury and Natasha. June bit on her lip as she squinted in the early morning sun that was casting over the field down to the bison pasture. The gates had opened, watching the man from earlier in the saddle atop the chestnut mare.

His head turned to check that the smaller bison calves had made their way through to the other side of the fence.

"Shut 'em in!" He yelled, pulling at the reins of his horse before the other ranch-hand pulled at the metal gate on the other side.

The field sat opposite of the smaller training field that had been built for June's benefit; she absolutely loved teaching, loved the elements of getting young riders out on the back of a horse to feel the fresh breeze in their hair. It had been so therapeutic to her growing up when everything felt that it could have fallen apart at any moment— this was her world.

Growing up on the ranch had been a saving grace for her. It was the yin to the yang of the city that she had grown to love. She had never had the opportunity to fall in love with another place like she had with Seattle.

It didn't hurt that these were the kinds of views that she had, either.

June hadn't been paying attention as she heard her name being called; her head whipped around as she watched Fury stomp a few times and start to buck and push the young girl. June watched her expression as she held at the fence, watching the young girl struggle with the large stallion.

"Hold on, Natasha!" June yelled, sitting up on the large fence before she cupped her hands over her mouth, "Pull the reins real hard to the left!"

She could see the fear on the girls face as she tried to brace, tried to do what June had told her to. She wasn't strong enough to manage the horse as her foot slid from the saddle and her body flung to the side and off into the dirt of the ring.

June gasped outwardly with a few curses as she ran towards where the girl was flung off. Fury moved away now that she felt safe enough that she could grab her and move out of the ring. She felt horrible not being to stop it before it started, not reading the language of the horse before it was too late.

"Are you okay, sweetie?" June asked, the young girl sitting up on her elbows as she tried to brush herself off. "You're not hurt, are you? Nothing feels broken?"

She shook her head, the helmet bearing her fall as she seemed to just be a bit more traumatized than hurt. The adrenaline must've been moving through her as they stood up, June helping her as she looked around the ring to notice that the horse had made his way out of the ring through the gate she had opened, ready to lead them out.

"Shit!" June yelled out, her head moving around at an attempt to find the horse that had been trotting away. She tucked the hair behind her ear as she turned to look around.

"I'm so sorry," Natasha started, obviously in shock, "I-I didn't– I got scared."

June turned to the girl, shaking her head profusely. "No, no, sweetie. It's fine– as long as you're okay."

June took Natasha out of the ring, climbing up the fence and over to the grassy knoll. Her hands landed on her hips as she searched around for Fury who had gotten loose.

"Fuck," She whispered under her breath.

She didn't expect him to get so agitated. She hasn't had that happen before, which set her alert on high. Fury was the horse that she trained on, and without him, she couldn't hold onto her lesson schedule.

The next one was in twenty minutes, so she needed to figure out a plan on how to catch him.

The first part of the plan was to find the horse that had seemingly run away and out of the gate. Her attention moved back towards the young girl, who had taken off her helmet and seemed to have calmed down just a bit. She rubbed at her elbow that had a bit of a scratch.

"You head back to barn," She told Natasha, "If you see him, holler really loud for me. I'm going to go to the other fields, see if I can catch him."

The young girl agreed, making her way back down to the barns where her mother had been while she took the lesson. She would tell them what had happened, and to make sure they could catch him if he got around.

June started up towards the bison fields– the ranch handlers had been up there just a few moments prior to the incident, and she may have an idea of where the horse had run to. The property was large, almost three hundred acres of land. But, with the number of trees and wooded miles, it would be harder to catch him than it was with the open spaces.

The Forte ranch was surrounded by mountainous regions, which was good for the bison and the elk that were seemingly farmed in the area. June's family kept bison and yak, which was separate to the ranches out in the southwest. Their ranch was green and grassy, surrounded by lakes and streams with glaciers and chilly mornings.

The summer heat didn't always feel like summer, which was what made the mornings so delightful. It was June's favorite parts about the lifestyle of working outside, she felt like there was so much more to see and so much more to take in. It was her own sense of meditation.

"Hey," June called out to the two men sitting on the fences. "Did you see my horse run by? He threw my rider off and fled, and I didn't really see where he went."

The two men seemingly similar looked at one another before shaking their head, practically ignoring her as they continued to haul a few bales of hay into a truck that was backed up to the fence. "Sorry, hon, no."

June placed her hands in her back pockets before she stared at them for a moment. "Okay, well, he's black. Long white stripe down his nose, kinda pink on the end. His name is Fury, but he doesn't usually respond," She blinked a few times, starting to ramble as she thought for a moment, "Probably why he's being a pain in the ass."

She could tell that the men were seemingly uncaring for her request, so she sniffled out of awkwardness before her boots started to move her to the other end of the field.

A good thirty minutes flew by as she walked along the edges of the property, whistling softly for any sight of where the horse could've gone. The sudden sound of clicking made her head turn towards the wooded area; a strike of fear spooking her as she turned. It wasn't that she feared being on her own, but something about being vulnerable ate away at her.

Her heart instantly dropped as she saw two horses, one ridden and the other being held close by the familiar leather reins. The rider in question familiar as she felt her lips quirk up in a smirk at the look on the man's face. She released the breath she had been holding in.

"Think you're supposed to stay on the horse, not let him run away." The deep voice teased. He had been holding the reins of Fury while riding his own.

"He threw my rider," She told him, "I was trying to make sure that she was okay, and he ran off."

"She was quite young," He commented, obviously seeming a bit worried now. He slowed his horse down, the horse standing in front of June as she went to pet down the mare's nose. It crossed her mind that he had noticed her earlier, possibly been staring. "Was she okay?"

June shrugged, nodding. "No broken bones. Maybe a bit of broken spirit."

"You know what they say," He licked over his lip, "Gotta' get back in the saddle." It was then that a smile broke on his face, which halted her breath at the beauty of it.

She laughed at his dry humor, raising her brows. "They do say that, but I'm going to have to do a bit more training with him. He needs to be better for younger riders."

Harry threw the reins over his horse's head, June caught them in her own grip. She looked back up at him again with a small smile. "I appreciate your help– catching him and all that."

"Pretty good portion of my job," He told her, turning the horse a bit so he could face her better.

June had started to lead the horse back in the direction of where the ring and the barn were before Harry stopped her with his words.

"C'mon, hop on," He told her, shifting in his saddle, "We're almost a mile away. You don't want to have to walk."

June's eyes shifted a bit as she pulled at Fury's lead, walking backwards as she thinks about his request for a moment. It catches her off guard, but she shakes her head.

"I think I can walk," She assures him him with a chuckle. He sways a bit in the saddle as he starts after them, obviously going in the same direction.

"Didn't say you couldn't," He remarks back, June hears his tone and looks back instantly, watching his eyes lay on her. Her stomach dropped at the way his gaze felt; his words playing off the sharpness of his jaw, "Also wasn't looking for an answer, just action."

June eyed him for a moment, almost a stand off from her spot on the ground. She inhaled sharply before she bit the inside of her cheek. She didn't understand the feeling in her chest that had anchored its way down to a bit of heat. The authoritative speaking of his voice made her swallow.

"But what if I wanted to walk?"

June watches the twitch of his face when she denied him– when she didn't do as he asked. When she didn't succumb to his request; which, she was learning was more of a nice way to demand rather than request.

The man slipped off the saddle, moving away from the mare before he was now standing in front of June with her hair pulled from her face. The freckles on her nose were surrounded by a bit of sun-kiss, which the man took as a reward for being so close. His eyes trained in her for a moment before he noticed the hitch in her breath as they were toe to toe.

June subconsciously took a small step back before she felt the touch of his hand on her wrist. Her eyes stayed along the collar of the navy t-shirt that seemed a bit pulled at the collar. While a contrast to the white tank he wore yesterday, this accentuated the bronze of his skin from working out in the summer heat. The warmth of the summer sun has bronzed him, leaving the ink of his arms darker in contrast.

He took a package out of his back pocket, the cigarette between his fingers and dangling from his mouth now as his bright green eyes have a playful lift to them. She watches him teasingly as he lets it dangle from his tongue before placing one on her lip too, waiting for her lip to catch it.

She doesn't tell him that she only smokes when she can't sleep, or when she's stressed out by something her family has said. But she doesn't say anything, just sends him a smirk as they stand toe to toe. His fingers snap the lighter to his, hers next as he takes a draw.

"Anyone looking for you?" His voice was as smooth as leather as he kept his eyes directed to the way her cheeks sunk into breath in the smoke.

"Probably." She responds, drawing her lips between her teeth. She felt the stare down but folded as soon the dimple popped through the right of his cheek. "I have a lesson that should be starting."

He shrugged, "Your horse ran off, nothing you can do."

June went to speak, her head turning towards Fury before Harry looked down the gravel road towards the home– over a mile away like he had mentioned.

Her words got caught in her throat before she can respond, just putting the cigarette up to her lips before she licked her tongue over her bottom lip that had turned into a smile. June bites the inside of her cheek before she looks over Harry who's already moving away from her.

"What're you doing back here?" He asked her, his European accent ringing a bit different, "thought you moved to the city."

Her thoughts ran to the fact that he knew that much about her. She wondered if her dad had mentioned her before, or if he was just paying attention. Either way, her answer to him stayed true.

"I knew I wanted to work my way back here," June told him honestly, "I wanted to work back home. But I need to save some money."

Harry bit his lip as he held the reins of the horse, pulling his over just a bit to start back down the path. It was slow, but it was moving a bit. June knew she was late to her riding session, but she figured it would've been fine anyways– she wasn't going to let her students ride Fury at this point.

"You're young," Harry told her with a chuckle, as if he was trying to explain the world to her, "You've got to explore a bit before moving back home. How do you think I got here?"

June tucked some loose hair behind her ear, "How did you end up here, I mean? It's quite far."

"Five thousand miles, give or take." He tells her, walking alongside her now. They seem to be moving at a slower pace. Either way, Harry knew that he wanted to be next to her.

June took a last draw of her cigarette, throwing it on the gravel. "Way too far for me. I'd miss my family way too much."

Harry flicked the cigarette, the ashes falling a bit before he nodded a few times. "That's because you have a really great family," He looked ahead, chuckling a bit, which June caught before furrowing her brows. "I don't miss my family at all, truthfully. Not much to miss there. So, maybe I just don't get it."

June nodded a few times, understanding the implications and biting her lip at his words. There's silence in the air before she takes in a breath and pressed her lips together then, as if she's trying to find words to help alleviate a pressure that she added in. But, he speaks before she gets a chance to.

"I just think people maybe need to take a few more chances," He says, "Live a little more freely. What's the worst that can happen if you do what you want?"

"Well, most criminals live by that narrative," June tells him, which makes him laugh a little bit at her remarks before she looks at him with the blue eyes that he can't seem to fully grasp could be that color blue.

"Within reason." He adds, and he stops mid step before he watches as she turns to face him at his abrupt stop in the road.

June looks at him, a fluttering feeling in her stomach as his body moves, letting the leather reins go before he stops in front of her again. It's the proximity that sends her thoughts on a tailwind of what could happen next; the adrenaline pushes in her veins as she stares up at him. He's closer now than before, his head has dropped a bit so he can really look at her, but she's acknowledged that, pushing her chin up to make sure she can hear exactly what he's saying.

"Maybe it's the fact that I don't like playing by the rules, though." The smell of the tobacco was filling her nose as they stood so close. His eyes remained deferred from hers, watching the way that the lips and chin were pulling up, almost subconsciously.

"Seems a bit criminal, if you ask me." She teased, tilting her head a bit as she begged him to look at her. 

"I mean," He chuckled, letting his fingers move up to her chin as he took it between them to steady her, "It would be criminal to let you beg any longer. Bit pathetic to watch."

"Not begging." She pushed back, pulling her chin away from his grip, which tightened his jaw. She noticed the way that her defiance made him react, which sped her breathing up.

"Tell your body that, sweets," He bit, "I could say anything, and you'll react to it."

He licked over his lips, watching as she tried her best to stay calm, to keep her breath under control. Her lips were pursed, her stance was trying to stand off a bit, but he could see right through her—he saw that she was trying her best to stand on her own but knew that she would fold right then and there.

It was the game that Harry liked, he liked watching how she would react to him when he spoke to her. She was young, practically ten years younger or so, he could assume—she was so impressionable and the fight for dominance was almost sweet. Harry ached as he watched her try to stand him down and his eyes moved to her lips before they drew up to her eyes, watching the ocean waves of blue.

June pulled away, suddenly. She gave him a smirk before she clicked her tongue to have Fury follow her down the road.

"You think you've got me figured out," She called, looking back over her shoulder. "Not going to work with me, cowboy."

Harry bit the inside of his cheek, watching her walk away. His eyes fell to the way that she walked, seeing the swing of her hips as a tactic to use against him. But, he did what he needed to do. He followed close behind, watching her every move—the silence in their walk back not lost on him.

"Something enticing?" June teased, noticing the way that his eyes had danced over her curves from behind. Harry's eyes lifted just a bit, settling in her eyes before he sent a wink her way.

The silence on the walk back to the barns felt good; it felt understood. It's why they both smiled to themselves, neither one seeing the other.

***

"You think I can really pull him?" June looked at Shelby, "He's older– I don't know, Shel."

"You aren't even seeing the way he looks at you," Shelby said to her friend, taking a swig of her beer. He's not taken his eyes off of her, and somehow June knows that deep inside of her, but she can't bring herself to look back at him. She's a bit timid like that; a sharp tongue when confronted, but a tail between her legs when she thinks of it.

The next night, June had gone out with her friend, Shelby, for a drink. It wasn't lost on her that the town was small. Most everyone knew each other, which made the Friday nights out on the town hard to avoid people you didn't want to see.

You really needed to want to be there, or you would be seen by someone you didn't want to see. June hadn't even thought of it when they went out, that she could possibly see him there. After their encounter yesterday morning, June had kept her distance. Not in a way that she felt was stand-offish, but in a way that felt like she was trying her best to let him come to her.

Dating and flirting weren't new to her, but the idea of playing this game scared her a bit. He wasn't new to this; they weren't trying to figure this out together like she had experienced in college. He was older than her, he had experience with this game.

It scared her a bit, because she didn't know how to handle herself in this type of situation. She wanted to come across as confident, but she knew that he had the opportunity to make her fold.

"You need to be drunker," Shelby stated, pushing her half-empty beer to her, watching as June wrapped her hands around the bottle. It was warm to the touch, not fresh in the slightest. "Let's go to the bar to get more."

June looked at her friend after downing the rest before she fully understood what that meant for her.

Shelby had gotten up, which made June follow her. The strawberry blonde realized without another second to spare that she had walked into the lion's den– eyes were on her as she approached the countertop bar.

One pair of eyes, specifically.

At first, she hadn't recognized him. Without the hat and the dirt-ridden t-shirt, she saw the way that the denim jacket hugged his back. The curls had a bit of bounce to them, and her mouth felt dry as she tried her best to divert her attention away.

But they were almost arm and arm and she had wondered if he would notice.

Of course he had. The scent of cherries and lime only made sense when his attention turned back towards a person who had brushed against him now. He had seen her across the room as soon as she came in with her short skirt and boots. He noticed the way that her waist dipped in with the form-fitting top and the slight curl to her hair.

He sat with his beer in his hand, a rowdy few friends were next to him as he kept his attention on her. June felt heat down her neck as she tried to ignore the staring but started to enjoy the feeling of being seen.

"Two whiskey sours," Shelby leaned across the bar to ask for before June looked at her with confusion, knowing that adding a bit of liquor in the mix would either make it better or worse—she didn't know. Her friend smirked at her, watching the bartender start to assemble their drinks.

June kept to herself for a moment before she heard a stealthy voice next to her. The jolt of her head towards him even surprised her as she licked over her lips at the way that he was looking at her.

"You following me, doll?"

June scoffed; her sharp tongue ready. "You don't think I have better things to do?" She quirked her eyebrow at him; feeling the closeness of them as she stood, and he sat on the barstool under the dim light of the grungy pub.

"No," He shook his head, taking a sip from his bottle before he turned to face her now. She was practically between his legs, his knees on either side of her as she stood closer to him than she thought. "I don't think you do."

He looked the same as he had yesterday morning; he was clean shaven on his cheeks, a bit of scruff on his lip and a twinkle in his eye that was undeniable among the green. A denim jacket covering his shoulders and tattooed arms that were on such display this morning. The hair sat longer on top of his head, just enough to add the definitive addition of chocolate curls.

June could barely look at him without her knees buckling at the bar top. But she took the drink from the bartender with confidence, trying to anchor herself.

"Well, you're wrong." June tells him, taking ahold of the cocktail before taking a sip and trying to play hard to get. A game she knew– a game she played far too often.

Harry watched the way she popped her hip, knowing she did it on purpose.

"I'm never wrong," He bit back, still playful. His eyes met June's, and she didn't dare look away. "So, try again."

June cleared her throat, standing against the bar as she let a breath out. What she hadn't anticipated was the way that his bent knee fell behind her own, pulling her closer between his legs at the busy bar.

June went to speak, a small gasp leaving her lips as she placed her hand on his shoulder as she lost a bit of balance. Her hair fell into his face as she felt herself push away. The smirk on his face only made her blush as she pushed off from him.

"Go on," He urged, "Try again."

She raised her eyebrows, noticing her hand still placed on his shoulder. "What if," She cleared her throat, "It's you who is following me?"

Harry took a sip of his beer, lazily, eyes staying on June as he shook his head softly.

" 'Course I am," He bit his lip, "Who wouldn't?"

His honesty came across, making her feel a bit speechless when she looked at him. She downed a good amount of the whiskey drink quickly, knowing that the quicker it went down, the quicker she'd feel it.

"Looks like what I said about criminal activity seems to be true," She let the straw of the drink rest on her tongue as she looked at him, "You're a bit no good."

"Never denied it," He downed a bit more of his drink before he raised his brow at her, "But you keep coming back, don't you?"

Her tongue rested on the straw, playing with it a little bit as she felt the flirtatious spirit running through her. The cat and the mouse were at their height, now.

"Just gathering all the facts on why I should stay away," She told him, pushing her hair back off of her shoulder. The small top only leaving little to the imagination; Harry tried to hold it together as he swallowed dryly.

"How's that working out for you?" He asked, his hand making its way to her hip as he pulled her a bit closer. June took a step, finding her balance as she stared at him for a moment. He knew the look on her face as he had seen that look a few times before.

A part of him felt the words deeper, which initiated him to reach for his wallet.

"Mind if you let me drive you home?" His voice was thick with a dry, hoarseness that only solidified her position backing into his lap.

June practically melted at his touch, his hand on her hip as she nodded a few times before turning towards him then.

"Don't think that should be a problem." She muttered over the music playing across the bar.

June's eyes found Shelby who was standing at the bar, just a few people over before she winked at them. She moved away, just so that Harry could stand on his feet as she watched the man throw a fifty down on the counter to cover the drinks.

"Drinking fifty dollars' worth and then driving me home?" Her attention turned towards the man as he gave her a lazy smile. "Feels a bit dangerous to get in the car with a drunk stranger."

"Feel like it's my job to pay for you too if I'm getting you to leave your friend to come spend time with me, hm?" Harry walked backwards a bit, reaching for her hand before they reached the door to the bar. "You looked like you were having a good time. But I got something to show you."

Her hand fit into his, her breathing escalating just a bit at the way that he maneuvered her grip, making his stronger instantly as he led them back to the Ford pickup he sport around town.

"I was having a good time," She tells him with a bit of a flirty essence, one that held a bit of attitude as far as he was concerned, "And now you're taking me from it. Wherever you're taking me must be pretty good."

Harry bit on his lip as he sniffles, scrunching his nose at her comment. Her comment only pressing his buttons.

"I'd apologize but I don't know if I'm sorry." He commented, cocking his head.

"You'll only have to apologize if I'm left disappointed–"

When they reached the blue pick-up, his hands instantly grabbed at her hips. They pushed her body into the iron to hold her captive against the side of the truck. It wasn't hard enough to hurt her, but hard enough to ground her. She hoped there'd be a small amount of pain as a reminder of the moment.

"You're not gonna question me, are you?" He asked her with the softest voice; the threat in his tone only heightened her senses as she flinched at the way he spoke.

The inside of her thighs fluttered at his growl of a voice. "N-No," June answered, "No, no, never."

His lips brushed against the side of her ear, pulling his body away from her just for a moment before he nodded and found the moment to understand her.

"Good girl," He praised, moving his hands upwards to her waist. The slim part of her torso melted into a perfect hourglass figure. Her hips were wide and held his sight, but his hands loved the feeling of the curve.

June's breath halted at the way that he held her– at first with a physical grip so tight, and then an invisible string of persistence.

The small pub rested just on the outskirts, in the mountains, but just far enough from the ranch. The radio played lightly; the windows were rolled down as the horizon line were just baring a bit of light.

Harry had driven the truck up to one of the horse barns that sat just close to June's guest house, where she had been staying. It was a bit further on the property, but she drove past it almost every day.

"What are we doing here?" She questioned him before he opened the door. He went to the other side to help her out, taking her hand as she jumped down. He had taken her waist in his hands to help her, the touch of him on her was enough to make her breathing hitch.

"Have something to show you, I told you." He said, taking her hand in his as he led her back up to the darkened barn. When they arrived at the open door, he flickered on a switch that gave the large space a bit of light.

When they both walked into the small barn, the only lights were overhead, the sound of the crickets chirping filled the silence. June followed Harry's lead before she noticed that they stopped at the stall at the end of the row, down closer to the tack room.

"Here we are," Harry nodded, leaning his arms on the side of the stall gate. When June turned towards the mother horse and baby that were laying on the ground before them. She felt her heart melt at the sight of the small, brown foal that had two white spots on the top of its forehead.

"Oh my god," She gasped, watching as Harry smiled at her surprise. "Aren't they the sweetest thing?"

"He was born this morning," Harry leaned against the gate, watching the two horses on the ground before he turned back to June. The mare simply in awe of the small baby, seemingly tired as she laid next to him. "Needs a name."

"The ranch has a history of naming them after the stars, you know," June tells him, walking over to the little foal. His legs tucked under him, two bright white spots perfectly in the middle of his forehead.

June leans down a bit, hesitant not to scare him. Her hand reaches out to pet the small foal before she runs over hand over the white spots.

"Well, mum is Forager of Stardust," He tells her, keeping against the gate with his arms crossed, "So, we'll keep it in the family."

June starts to giggle as she turns back to Harry, eyes wide, "Ziggy Stardust– hands down, has to be."

"Ziggy Stardust? Alright, then. Sounds like a perfect name to me." Harry questions with a laugh; his smile becoming a bit more than the typical lazy one he likes to sport. June noticed that the crinkles by his eyes were a bit more defined, her nods insinuating her answer.

June turned back to the little foal before watching as his dark brown eyes blinked a few times with the lashes so long and fluttered. Her heart was built from the small creatures around the farm, the life that had been put into this lifestyle.

It reminded her of the sweetness; the parts of her life that continued to only get better the older she got and the more she enjoyed the peacefulness of simplicity.

This was it– this was the simplicity she craved. The rebirth, the gentle touches that reminded her of what life really was all about. She loved watching the ranch run on its own, watching as it grew everyday with small details.

Harry had moved towards a bale of hay that sat in the corner, taking a seat on it as he leaned against the stable wall. He watched June nuzzling the foal before she turned her head towards him again. He gave her a tilted smirk, dimple pressing into his cheek as he watched the nurturing love that nestled out of her.

"Did you grow up on a farm?" She asked, looking back at him before standing up from her spot. She managed to make her way through the tall stable hay before taking a seat on the bale with him. The small spot was snug, but neither of them seemed to mind.

"I did," He nodded a few times, "But it was a lot different. Sheep and goat, mostly. England is also a bit flatter, so it was a lot easier to ride than it is here. But I just figured that this would be a bit of an adventure."

"Think you made a good choice?" June asked, crossing her arms as her legs settled straight out just like his.

Harry raised his brows before he felt that he couldn't stop himself from smiling all the sudden. He wanted to believe that the few beers had something to do with it, hours ago now, but he knew that it wasn't. His eyes were downcast as he started to nod a few times.

"The views here are incredible." He answered, looking up at her, "But the scenery around here is good, too."

June nodded a few times, sniffling.

Harry decided to return the question, looking back at her. "Do you think you made the right choice coming back home? Assuming you liked the city, I guess."

June shrugged her shoulders, knowing that being home was always difficult in some capacity. She loved her family, loved the ease of being able to go places and knowing exactly what to expect. Home seemed to be a place that was easily accessible to her, all the time. Her family would always bring her back—she always knew that she could lean on them without an issue or judgement of feeling pressured to leave.

"I think I made the right choice to come home and to do what feels easy right now," She nodded a few times, "I think coming home from college is scary because you're like," She shrugged, "You feel like you don't have a direction anymore. You're in school practically your whole life—it's all you know. And then to think that you could go somewhere else and live a new life after that. It's just a lot. They're letting me stay in the guesthouse until I can get my bearings."

Harry understood, to some degree. But he was the opposite—if it wasn't new, it wasn't exciting. He wanted to see new things and to not see the same view twice. It meant that you weren't settled, even though the idea of settling wasn't bad. It was just different.

"It's probably good to know that you have a space in the world somewhere," He agreed, settling a bit, "I understand that. I didn't go to college, but I get that you want to feel like you're... you. And you're not having to reintroduce yourself to a new place or new people."

"My family knows exactly who I am," She smiled, "And that's what I want right now."

That was the truth—June wanted to just stay here until she was able to get her own place, maybe down the road. She could have the best of both worlds—one day she'd be able to live on her own, but still be able to stay connected to the place that felt so close to her heart. Teaching riding lessons was her only income, but it helped pay her loans and aided in her weekend ventures with her friends, specifically Shelby.

There wasn't much more she could have wanted now. Happiness seemed to manifest itself in the little things.

But, of course, after the small incident with Fury yesterday morning, she didn't know that she would have been able to trust him. It felt that there was more she could do about it, but she knew that his outbursts had been due to her lack of maintaining his trust and boundaries. He was also just an asshole half the time, and it wasn't something that she could put up with if he continued.

June sighed a bit, thinking of it when she noticed that Harry had taken interest in her sudden displeasure.

"What's wrong?" He asked. She blinked a few times, watching as he seemed to understand that her sigh was of annoyance.

"Well, I'm not going to be able to give anymore lessons until I can get Fury figured out," She shook her head, watching the man as he listened to her quandary. "I have to get him straightened out or I'll have to get another horse ready just to train on, and work with Fury until then."

Harry bit the inside of his cheek as he let his eyes move to the side, seeing if he would get the reaction he was looking for.

"Bet you're a real good rider, huh?" He teased, poking his tongue into the side of his cheek as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Probably give good lessons, too."

June pulled her lips into her mouth to keep from the smirk that was approaching, but she rolled her eyes instead. "What a line."

"I'm just asking!" He lifted his hands in defense as he chuckled out a bit, "Was maybe looking into some lessons to help you out."

Their outstretched legs bumped into one another as she pulled at bent knee up to hug into her chest. "I charge a hefty fee."

Harry shrugged, running his hand through his hair. The unruly curls were a bit out of control as he sniffled gently at the way that the hay tickled his nose. "I'll pay up-front."

June shifted her jaw as she licked over her lips. It was a bit dangerous, this game that they were playing. But she had an idea in her brain that she was going to take his advice.

What was the worst that could happen?

She sat up, back straight. Her eyes were downcast as she looked over at him, then. He didn't know how to respond to her stare before he felt the way that she pushed her knee over his lap. Her hands steadily placing on his shoulder as he looked up at her with a smirk that said all of the words that she desperately needed to hear.

"Alright, then," She sunk her teeth into her bottom lip, "Let me give you a lesson or two, cowboy." Her hips sank into his pelvis, pushing gently with the added pressure as she took a seat like he had inquired for.

Harry sat up a bit straighter, watching as she straightened up, too. Her skirt flowed over her thighs as he let his hands place on the outside of her hip for helping her balance. A smirk coated her blushing cheeks as she tucked her hair behind her ear in a nervous habit.

"I'm already learning so much," He teased her, waiting for her to make another move. She thought she may have a grasp on how to approach him but became nervous as she started to take charge. It was evident to him as she settled into his lap, but he loved the initiative.

They faced one another and she bit her lip at the way that he talked to her. He paid attention to her, let his hands get to know her before he pressed further.

"Dare you to kiss me, though." He said to her, watching as she gave him a look of confusion. She chuckled at him, as she shook her head, but he just smirked, "No one can pass up a dare."

She did exactly as he had dared, pressing down so their lips met. It was like finding water in the desert as she immediately pushed forward, needing more as soon as she got a taste. Her hips rolled at the feeling of his hand making its way to the back of her neck, almost like he was guiding her closer. He was showing her what she needed without words.

The kiss allowed him to press his tongue into her mouth which elicit a whimper from her, his cock straining underneath the jeans that she had been pressing on. He followed, letting his own whimper strain out at the thought of her pressed against him. The skirt not allowing anything between them except the panties he imagined she'd have on.

Deepening the kiss, he pulled her hips forward just enough that he was allowing her hips to ride into him. The coolness of his belt made her shiver, her thighs immediately reacting to the touch.

"You wanna let me take the reins?" He offered, his voice deep and raw as he felt the closeness of them. Her back arched into him, his words giving her a break as she nodded fervently.

"Please?" She asked, practically pleading.

It didn't take any longer before he threw his arm around her, picking her up into his lap as he found the grounding of his feet. Swiftly, he held her up on his waist as she wrapped her legs around his middle, holding on as they pressed their way through the barn.

The small tack closet next to the stable was the closest they got before he threw open the door and led them in.

Harry threw her on the table, letting her sit as he continued to let his lips fall over her again and again. With her help, his hands pulled the denim off of his arms and back, pieces of clothing seem to fall off easily.

He gently allowed his hand to move to the inside of her thigh, pressing down a bit to gauge her reaction.

Her skin was hot, his eyes were down as he guided his hand to the place that she needed him most.

"Please, please," She continued to plead, his ears ringing from the way that she needed. It was so innocent and cute, almost like she hadn't any idea how badly he could wreck her.

"Turn around." He demanded, pulling away just enough to give her room to move. When she didn't, all he saw was a deer in headlights, watching him for a moment like she didn't know what he was asking of her. She swallowed, licking over her lips as she got to her feet.

Her slow movement initiated him to grab her by the hips to turn her around quickly. His hand pressed on her back, pushing her to her elbows on the deck of the tack room.

"When was the last time you were fucked?"

Her throat was tight just at the words that left his mouth; her breathing racing as she anticipated the quickness of this. She had been waiting for it; hoping he'd understand she had been quietly asking for this.

"Been a while," She answered breathlessly, her legs pushed apart as he stood behind her. The flow of the skirt barely covered over her ass before he pushed it up to reveal it all. "N-Not that long."

His eyes grew three sizes larger as he took in the detail of the black lace that lay over her milky skin.

Harry pulled himself down, letting his knees sink to the ground. His eyes were level with the lace as he quickly let his fingers rest on the waistband, pulling them off of her and down her thighs.

She gasped at the feeling, his eyes never leaving.

"Goddamn," He commented, his thumb pressing softly into her. She jerked forward at the initial contact, eyes shutting as she leaned into his touch. "Knew it," He chuckled, "Knew you'd get yourself wet for me."

His thumb moved out slowly, her reaction exactly what he wanted. She pulled back with him, wanting to be filled– he knew exactly where he needed to get her.

"Needy," He berate, his words having a bit of edge. Her eyes flickered open as she gasped at the feeling of his hand slapping the harness of her skin. His thumb removed as he spanked her again, lurching her forward. "So fucking greedy."

Her knees trembled at the feeling, left untouched as he stood behind her. The sound of his belt made her eyes shut as he undid the button on his jeans and smirked at the way she settled underneath him.

"Don't mind that we don't have a condom, right?" He asked, his hand moving to the reddened spot on her skin that she ached took feel again. He smirked, knowing the words he would say would only make her a bit restless. "Can wait if you really need me to."

Her head turned around, her lips a bit raw from where she had been nibbling on it.

"No," She shook her head, "No– no. I'm safe, we're okay." She pleaded, and his smirked lifted at her neediness.

His hands pulled on her hips to arch just a bit for him. June quickly felt the teasing way his tip pressed against her soaked cunt, her hands turned white knuckled as she gripped tightly onto the wood. It was just the feeling alone– she hadn't even seen him, but her anticipation was high.

"Just letting you know," He pressed the tip right into the softness between her, giving her a sensation of euphoria just from how turned on she had been. She let out a moan, her eyes shutting. "We play by my rules. When I say down, you go down. When I say suck, you suck. No backtalking. I'm giving you the best fuck of your life, so you listen to me to get what I know you want. Got it?"

He hadn't even given her a reason to moan, her words caught in her throat as she nodded with. A subtle whimper— the strawberry blonde hair flinging over her shoulder as he moved it away. His lips found their home on the back of her neck, sucking gently at the skin.

"You're going to be such a good girl, though, aren't you? You would never disobey me, huh?" He cooed; his lips continued to ravish at her hair line as she threw her head back in an ache to feel the pleasure he was offering.

June's hips moved back gently, but his hands gripped at her before she could push herself onto him. The slight action gave him a sense of power; his hand smacking onto the curve of her.

The cracking sound familiar to one of a whip— she gasped at the feeling, her eyes closing shut just at the pain that radiated in such a burning sensation.

"Fuck," She whispered, knowing that she was simply dripping at the need. She had never been in a position of such need— she had never needed someone to give her what she needed in such a way that it brought tears to her eyes just to think about it. "I-I'm sorry— I—"

"I'm not." He stated, his breath hot on her neck. A coolness laying underneath—the metal of the cross hitting at her shoulder when he grabbed her hips towards him. When he pushed in, it took a fluid motion before they both moaned out in pleasure. It was a shock of intensity that Harry had truly never felt before.

Sure, he'd been in this position before— but like this? He had been with beautiful women, seen beautiful things. But the enticing scent of wildflowers and sweet vanilla only flourished as his nose brushed the softness of her shoulder.

Harry tried to keep his composure— trying to follow the red behind his eyes, but suddenly feeling the urge to cum at any moment which made him a bit nervous at the quick build-up. It was exceptionally better than he had expected; he had been more turned-on than he had thought.

His forehead rested on her shoulder blade; the small strap of her tank-top the only small detail that was between his forehead and her skin. Harry bit his lip slightly as he wondered when he would be ready to pull out to continue fucking her into an oblivion that would send her to the stars.

But he felt incredibly, incredibly close to the edge just at the initial feeling of her. He grunted in a bit of frustration as he shook his head to try to clear all the thoughts that had gathered there. The curls of his hair fell into his eyes as he shook his head. His hands kneaded into the fleshy skin that curved over the small skirt that still rested on her thighs. He had just pushed it up enough to give himself access to what he really needed.

Focus, he thought to himself.

"You are so goddamn tight," He watched as her back arched a bit at his words. Her chin turned to the side, just enough where he could now see her side profile. Her eyes were shut, mouth parted in a small, dainty way. "No one's fucked you in a while, have they, darling? You lie to me?"

Harry pulled himself out just a bit, watching where they connected as he felt himself slip back in. The tightness surrounding him made his eyes clamp shut. She felt incredible to him on every level that he couldn't think of anything else that moment.

It was dizzying.

"N-No, not like you— not like this," June muttered. The way that her hands gripped over the table in the tack room was almost pain to her fingertips. "You're so deep, fuck."

The sound of her voice elicits a response of his hips bucking into her, the rasp and grunt of June's voice painted a beautiful picture in his memory.

"You like me deep like that?"  Harry licked over his lips, eyes moving down her body as he moved his leg to her thigh. "Pull this up on the table— go on," He urged, "it'll be good for you."

June felt the pat on her thigh, Harry's hands slid the remaining clothes down her legs to leave her completely free on the bottom. He pulled out for a moment to help her lift her leg, balancing herself as she felt suddenly empty without him filling her up.

Watching as she lifted her leg on the table, pushing herself up, Harry dropped to his knees as he took in what he saw. A certain hunger elicits his eyes as he grabbed onto the back of her thighs, spreading them apart. In an instant, she felt the spit on her already dripping cunt as his mouth attached to her almost like it was made for his lips to wrap around.

Her head drew back at the feeling of his mouth on her, the knot in her stomach was undoubtedly loosening as she felt the nudge of his tongue against her clit; the feeling of his nose gracing her. In the last twenty-four years, she had never been blessed with a partner that would have given her the opportunity to feel this way. She had never been with an older man before, either.

Maybe her innocence had been brushed away by the complete raging needs of his wandering hands.

Either way, she didn't know if she could get any better than this. The softness of his tongue with a stiff edge and control, the scruff of his upper lip taunting her as he spread her thighs further apart while his mouth took her from behind.

"Could ruin you in so many ways." Harry hummed, his tongue dripping from her arousal that coated it. "You want me to ruin you, doll?"

Her hair fell into her face as she nodded fervently, her hand pushing the locks away as she tried to catch a glimpse of him but leaned forward instead.

"Yes— I want you to ruin me, please." Her voice was a shy, timid tone but it held all of the power of her needs. He knew exactly what she needed, and he would gladly give her every bit of it.

Harry immediately felt the words go straight to his cock; the feeling of arousal only tempting him further and further. What was it about this girl that gave him such an issue? He hadn't always been so easy to please, but something about the way that she moved her hips, her small movements only made him want to be rougher.

A girl that didn't know what she wanted was always the best— it was the moment when she found exactly what she was looking for, but never knew how to express it that made him cum the hardest. Harry wanted to push every ounce of her until she was begging for it.

June lurched forward just a bit as he stood back up from his position, moving to enter her once again. The slickness of his spit mixed with her arousal created the perfect lubrication that guided his swiftly back into her.

Deeper this time— much deeper. He held onto her thighs, pushing his hips into her at a steadier rate as the soft hums of her whimpers started to go deeper and become significantly more adulterated versions of moans. He felt the way he slipped in and out of her like she had been made to pleasure him.

"Keep quiet," He urged, "You're going to get us into trouble if someone hears us."

"I want them to hear how good you're fucking me," She urged, a whimper coming out as he slowed his motions to tease her further. "Fucking me so good."

He leaned in a bit close to her ear, pulling back her neck as her body contorted to meet his needs. She was in his grasp, only moving in the way that he needed her to. His hand pulled at her throat; the coolness of his undone belt buckle was against her thigh as he pushed in completely to get as close to her as possible.

The moan that escaped her lips was cut short by the hand that cupped over her mouth, which only pushed her further.

"You're going to be quiet or I'm going to pull out, do you understand me?" His voice was deep, low, and cold as she shut her eyes to the sound of it. She felt the push of two of his fingers into her mouth, a surprise at first. "Brats get punished and I'm going to leave your little cunt wanting more if you don't listen."

June hadn't felt this way in years— there had never been a man to satisfy the needs that had been built up in this way. It really hadn't been that long since she hooked up with someone, but she had never felt this way in her entire life. She had never felt this full— this satisfied. It was extraordinarily rough— it was to the point where she hadn't ever known a pleasure like this before.

She couldn't have imagined this.

"You understand?"  He says finally; she hadn't recognized that he had truly been waiting for a response before continuing. She had concluded that his pleasure was aided with being in charge. June couldn't understand the way that she became extremely, unbelievably pleasant for him. A few more thrusts pushed her to the brink of extraordinary delight before she dipped her head at the throbbing feeling between her legs.

"I understand— I do, I do, fuck– fuck." She whimpered out, unaware of the way that his thrusts had pushed on her enough that her muscles involuntarily ached as her orgasm became all the sudden wet— a solid gasp releasing her lips as she felt him pull out just at the feeling.

Harry's eyes darkened to a color of coal before he watched her inevitably drip down her own legs, the sight only causing his own mind to fall to a place of filth and absolute insanity. The gushing liquid was only a sight that he never thought he'd see like that– especially from her.

The innocent act was truly just an act.

"Jesus Christ," He commented under his breath, a bit taken by the sight. He choked back for a moment before he looks at the way he left her cunt dripping with need over the dark brown boots that had pushed her legs open. "So, fucking messy, aren't you?"

He watched the way that June's breathing heaved for a moment before he let his hand run down her spine— almost like she had been a bit surprised, like she hadn't expected her body to do anything like that.

Harry paused for a moment, watching to make sure that she was okay. Even in the rough moments, he watched to see if she seemed alright— his head tilting a bit as he hadn't heard anything else from her. A small coax from his hand on the small of back made him pause for a moment.

"Hey," He spoke quietly, "You're okay, doll, hm?"

June felt extremely exhausted already, almost like her body had started to fail her with how her legs trembled in this position. Her head turned back to look at him, a small nod coming from her without any words as she tried to find herself back in the moment.

It was an odd feeling in his chest as he started to feel an ache that went from extremely vile— filthy as he fucked this girl against the tack closet desk, to a sense of vulnerability that he made have started to push her a bit further than she was ready for. She didn't know it until her body was giving her pleasure that she hadn't felt before.

In an attempt to aid in some relief, especially to the legs that shook a bit more than a small foal, he pulled June back to a standing position. Her confusion on her face was obvious before Harry grabbed her by the waist to place her on the end of the desk instead. The skirt that had been pulled around her thighs had been pulled down completely.

"Get you off your legs so I can finish you off without you falling out on me," He told her with a sly smile, "Anyone ever made you feel this good?"

He watched the girl— completely wrecked with a face of pure softness. Her eyes were dazed, her attention stayed on him as he she shook her head. He felt better that she was conscious, even if he had taken practically everything from her.

"I can tell," He tells her softly before he tucks the hair out of her face, "Sorry you've been so deprived," Harry comments, "Would've done it for you sooner, if I would have known. Good thing I know now, hm? Won't let this happen again, angel, promise.

The feeling of their lips presses together as June grabs at her thigh so that Harry can move into the position between her legs once again. His tongue tastes like tobacco, a hint of the gum that he had been chewing.

Harry pressed the tip of his cock back into her to finish what he had started. His muscles ached in his abdomen as he felt himself tense at the feeling through a few more thrusts as he faced her now.

"Feels so, so good," June's words had whimpered out of her, a bit surprising at how quiet she had been and started to become even more so. "I-I'm— it's— fuck. Please, please more."

Harry's hands had made their way to her hips, making sure she had been pulled completely to the front of the desk so that he could feel her deeper. His vision moved down to the place where they connected; a hint of heat on the back of his neck as he thought of the moment more intrinsically.

"C'mon," He coaxed, their noses brush as he lets his forehead rest against hers. His breathing hitched for a moment as he felt her hand move to grab at his bicep. "C'mon, give me one more. You can do it."

His hips snapped further into her; June breathed into his mouth with a hot gasp as she screwed her eyes shut at the feeling of his cock nudging at a place that elicit such a firework of intensity that she hadn't ever felt before. It didn't matter how many college nights, bar hookups, serious relationships— none of those had the control that Harry had over her.

This was a feeling that he had crafted to ensure that the other person felt extraordinarily vulnerable and taken. She recognized that she wasn't the first, and certainly wouldn't be the last. 

She was okay to just be his right now.

"Mm," She bit on her lip at the thought of what had caused her to be sent over the edge prior. She wanted to know what to ask for; she didn't know what she needed, but she was certainly going to try. "W-Want you to...to c-call me a slut," she said with a small voice, just heard between them. Her eyes had turned away from him with a sheepish-shy feeling. "Need it."

Harry paused for a moment before he let his hand move to underneath her chin, propping her up to look into his eyes. He needed her to say it to him— needed to see her embarrassed and shy, wanting him to treat her like a one-night rather than a forever.

"I only call it like it is," He tells her with a grin carved like a devil, "I just have to call you a slut so you drench my cock? Is that it?" He knew he had to push her further, get her to a place in her head where she felt sexy, where she felt loose to the point of unraveling. "Letting me fuck you in a little closet on your daddy's ranch— such a pretty little brat." 

"Fuck me," She whined, knowing that her words would travel if she were any louder. "I-I'm gonna–"

"Do it." He coaxed.

Just at the sound of his words, he could feel the way that she unwound herself— simply, he didn't recognize that his words really did have the effect. His lips part as he watched her body fully shake with a convulsion the wetness coated his front with a small spray of her. Drenching his clothes and their boots as they sat with gasping breaths, he stared at the way that her pussy reacted to him, wondering how his words affected her so easily.

She was wrecked.

"That's such a good fucking girl," Harry told her softly, pressing himself back in, nodding fervently as he reassured her. Her cry was let out of the feeling of sensitivity that came after her explosive orgasm.

His hand placed on the back of her neck, pulling her forward a bit as he snapped his hips harder into her so that he could reach a place of pure euphoria. He couldn't begin to replay the actions of her pretended innocence, wondering if he would ever get to see anything like it agan. "Not going to last—fuck."

In an instant, his muscles tensed with an aching feeling that pushed his hips deeper into hers. Harry's lips placed themselves on her neck, kissing at the spots with a gentle softness—he knew what he had been in for in this intense, heated hook-up, but his cock had found a ferocious love for finishing inside of her all of the sudden.

It was all encompassing.

"Shit– shit." He hadn't even thought of the repercussions of not having the condom but needing to be careless for a few moments of time. He fell into her grip, holding onto her softly as he felt their breathing becoming less heavy.

June's legs were wrapped around his hips like an anchor, her head sat heavy on his shoulder as he mustered up the courage to pull away. He didn't really want to pull out completely, knowing it felt too good to let his cock feel the tight confines of her walls.

He slowly pulled his hips back, letting the mess fall out with him.

"Oh, fuck." He muttered under his breath, watching the display of a horribly sexual sight. One that someone would pay money to see. "I've never felt anything like that."

The way that she breathed against the wall, up on the table. Her eyes were shut as she held herself up and wondered if her choices had been worth it. She blinked a few times, almost like her body was now shutting down after the intensity of their passionate love affair.

Harry waited for her to respond to him, to look at him. He watched as her chest raised and lowered, knowing she was still breathing, but seemed to be missing from behind her eyes.

"Hey," He pulled her back from against the wall, whispering to her sweetly as he felt himself breathing a bit fast, too. "C'mon, doll, we should go clean up. I think we can sneak out the back."

Her movements felt heavy as Harry tried his best to bring her back to her feet. When he felt that she was steady enough, he let go of her to place his jeans and belt back into place, watching her shakily redress herself. The quietness of the small tack closet didn't hinder them, as Harry placed a kiss along her cheek before he let his hands fall on the doorknob.

"I'll go first and then you can follow me," He tells her, watching her nod in agreement. "Front door or back door?" He asks, in reference to the small guest house that June had been staying in. Her breathing had finally fallen into place. The desperation of need still on her eyes, which only excited him to get her back alone.

"Back." She tells him, quietly. Using her words wasn't so bad, but her legs became a bit unsteady, so she held onto the table behind her.

Before he opens the door, Harry gives her a quick once over. His eyes land on her lips before he steps forward to leave a kiss along her pout, letting her sink into him once again. The taste of her instantly feeds him as he groans into the feeling.

It was about time he found the feeling everyone told him he should be looking for. It was a myth for so long, but just in the way that he lips melted into his was enough to make to him blush. Her hands in his hair at the back of his neck, the feeling of her nails along his jaw settled his need for the moment before he pulled back and gave her another peck.

"Don't be too long," He told her, "Don't want to have to wrangle you back to me." 

She smirked at his challenge as he opened the door to slip out. Her eyes shut at the way moved, closing the door behind him. A settled feeling in her chest only made her stumble back just a bit, letting herself rest on the table before she took in a solid breath.

Home had seemingly never felt so right.

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

❤ Yandere Police Officer ❤

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

Female reader

WARNINGS: Manipulation/Power Abuse.

--

◾ Yandere!Officer who has his eyes on you the moment you step foot in his town.

You’re different from all the girls he’s known all his life, maybe because you’re a city girl. But that doesn’t mean you’re bad, no.

On the contrary, he likes you very much.

You’re not arrogant, arms crossed with a disgusted expression at the small variety of entertainment that the town offers, like many other city people have done before while visiting his town.

You came with a wide smile, the smell of hope and new beginnings incrusted in your figure. He likes that. 

◾ Yandere!Officer who immediately strikes a friendship with you. He’s nice and friendly, offering you all the help you need as you settle in the town and his heart beats faster when you inform him that you plan on staying there permanently. 

He immediately starts daydreaming about you, about the cute perfect couple you two would make. You could take care of the house - and whatever small bundles of joys that came along the way - while he’d work and provide for the family.

Coming home to the happy shrieks of children, a sweet wife and a hot meal sounded like a dream. 

◾ Yandere!Officer that will be there for you as you slowly start to organize your life, helping you find a job at a local coffee shop.

He’d stop by multiple times a day, a charming smile on his face as he’d place his order, asking you about how everything was going. 

His white and blue friends would laugh and throw indiscreet clues about someone having a crush on the waitress, but he’d ignore them, his eyes following you as you work, a smile on your face as you served customers. 

He’d start spending more time in your workplace, even during his off-duty days. His easy going personality making it easy to form a connection with you.

You seem to appreciate his concern and interest in your wellbeing and repay him by bringing him a few pastries for free. 

◾ Yandere!Officer who’ll ask you out when he gives you a ride back to your home, and despite feeling so flattered, you refuse him.

You’re not looking for relationships, still trying to achieve some normalcy in your life before jumping into the dating scenario. 

Besides, he’s not exactly your type. He’s tall and slender, firm muscles stretching out the clothes he wears. Not ripped and bulky, as you like.

But he’s not bad though, having really handsome features and you’ve heard your female coworkers whisper about him, their comments horny enough to make you blush. 

He smiles and assures you it’s fine and that he's okay being friends for now, but you have a bad feeling at the way his expression drops into a sinister frown when he thinks you’re not seeing. 

◾ Yandere!Officer who’ll keep his friendly demeanor, despite the new awkwardness between you two. He still likes you, even if you rejected him like he was an annoying bug.

Maybe you just need a bit of time before accepting him. He’ll wait as long as he can, but can’t stop himself from quickly getting irked when he sees some local guys flirting with you while you’re serving them food. 

Fingers tightly gripping his gun as jealousy burns in his chest. He should teach those guys a lesson for attempting to swoon you, don’t they know you’re his?

Fucking idiots. 

◾ Yandere!Officer who’ll ask you out a second time soon after that.

Your rejection leaves a sour taste in his mouth and this time he doesn’t bother pretending that he’s fine as he angrily storms out of your coffee shop, slamming the door behind him. 

◾ Yandere!Officer who’ll realize that he needs to move fast, otherwise you’ll end up choosing someone else. But knowing how stubborn you were, he’ll have to play dirty to get you in his arms. 

He apologizes for his previous behavior, genuine regret all over his face and of course you end up accepting it, alongside the flowers he offers you. 

But shortly after, you realize that it was all a big mistake. 

He playfully suggests you go out with him in return for him forgetting about the speeding tickets you didn’t even know you had accumulated. His goofy behavior almost makes it look like a harmless proposition.

But when he playfully implies that if you don’t, he may be forced to arrest and book you because of safety issues - that’s when you realize that maybe he’s not as innocent as you think him to be. 

◾ Yandere!Officer who points out that there’s nowhere for you to hide or run from him.

He’s a cop and that means access to a lot of information. Where you came from, your parents, their workplaces, their addresses, everything. 

So how about you play good girl for him? He’d hate anything bad happening to his future in-laws. 

[st4rfckerz]

Town Tramp | Anakin Skywalker x reader

word count: 2.5k

warnings: mdni 18+, sub!ani, dubcon (?), handjob, oral (male receiving), virginity loss

summary: Anakin has only lived in the small town of Meadowgrove for a few months and is already making new friends.

a/n: thank you all for being so patient with me while i took this little break, i really needed it 😭 but with that i’m very sure i’ll be posting normally very very soon.

The sun rises above the horizon, casting a warm haze over the quaint little town of Meadowgrove. Anakin Skywalker leaned against the counter of the local diner, chatting quietly with one of the cooks. He’d only been living in the small city for a little over three months, but he was already growing fond of its charm.

After exchanging a few final words, Anakin pushed open the door of the small restaurant, the bright summer sun blinding him, causing him to shield his eyes with his large hand. He glanced across the vacant sidewalk before spotting you casually walking along, your fingers opening a pack of cigarettes. As you stopped to pick a cigarette out of the box, a loud, obnoxious engine roared to life, accompanied by a chorus of rowdy laughter. A red, dilapidated pickup truck full of young men came speeding around the corner, the smell of old gasoline in the air. With a triumphant yell, one of the passengers threw a half-empty beer bottle out the window, aiming directly at you, its contents splattering across your shirt and legs.

Anakin's heart leaped into his throat as he watched the bottle arch through the air. It landed with a thud at your feet, followed by a chorus of degrading names and crude laughter. Your eyes flashed with anger, and without hesitation, you flipped the truck's occupants off as they sped away. Anakin marched forward, his strong hands balled into fists.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice a soft rumble.

“Yeah ‘m fine,” you respond, angrily wiping the spilled beer off your skin. Your gaze flicked to Anakin for a moment, and you couldn't help but take a second look. A small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. “Do I know you?” you say as you squint your eyes at him.

“Not that I know of,” Anakin replied, sticking his hands in his pockets. “I've only been here for a few months. Just moved in from a farm on the outskirts.” He glanced down at your pack of cigarettes, then back up at your face, unsure how to proceed. “Do you need help with that?” he asked, gesturing to the cigarette between your fingers. You smiled, your eyes meeting his as you bent down to meet the flame.

“Thanks,” you said, inhaling deeply, giving him your name shortly after. Your voice was smooth, like honey. Anakin flicked the lighter with a practiced ease, his face serious as he watched your lips part. “Anakin,” he replied, feeling his cheeks heat up slightly. He took a step back, unsure of what to say next.

“Well, I should get goin’,” you said, your eyes never wavering from Anakin's. “I'll see you around.”

“Wait,” He hesitated, concern lacing his face. “I don’t think it's safe for you to walk home by yourself,” he explains softly. You nodded, your smile returning as you tapped the ashes off the cigarette.

“Alright.” you said, taking one last drag before dropping it to the ground and crushing it beneath your boot. You started walking, your hair moving gently as you walked, reminding the boy of wildflowers swaying in the breeze. Anakin fell into step behind you, his own boots clicking against the pavement. “So, how long have you been in Meadowgrove?” he asked, trying to break the silence.

“Since I was a little girl,”you replied, glancing over your shoulder at him with a playful grin. “What did you move to this lousy town for?”

Anakin shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Just needed a change of pace.”

You chuckled, crossing your arms in front of you. “A change of pace can be good,” you agreed. “I like the quiet here, but it can also be a little lonely.”

Anakin nodded in understanding. “Yeah, I've been keeping to myself mostly. It's tough to meet people.”

“Not anymore,” you smile, your eyes gleaming in the light. “Now you've got a walking companion.”

Your small conversation flowed easily in between the comfortable silence you fell into, the stillness of the town around you broken only by the occasional chirp of a lone mockingbird.

Eventually, you arrived at a small, white house nestled between two others. It had a porch with two lonely chairs and an american flag hung up in the window.

“Well, here we are, I hope you weren’t expectin’ Buckingham palace.” you announce, stopping in front of the withered porch. “Thank you for the walk, Anakin.” He smiled, feeling a sense of satisfaction in knowing he'd been able to help you.

“Anytime. It was nice meeting you-”

Before he could finish his sentence, you gently grabbed his arm, your fingers barely brushing against the fabric of his flannel.

“Hey wait,” you chirp, your voice soft and inviting. “Do you wanna come in for a minute? It’s so hot, I can’t just let you tread back in the heat without a drink or something.”

He swallowed, his gaze flicking to your lips before meeting your eyes once more. “O-okay.” he finally replies, his voice barely above a whisper.

The rickety screen door swung shut behind them, revealing a quaint, rustic living room. Vintage furniture filled the space, each piece well-loved and showing the signs of a life well-lived. A soft, plush couch sat near the fireplace, its floral print inviting. A rocking chair sat in the corner, a knitted blanket draped over the armrest. The walls were adorned with framed photographs and paintings, each one telling a story of your past. A wooden coffee table sat in the center, surrounded by a few mismatched chairs.

“What’ll you have?” you ask as you head towards the illuminated kitchen. Anakin stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, rocking anxiously back and forth on his heels. He found himself admiring the intricate detailing on the wooden table.

“Water’s fine.” He says with a tight smile. You soon returned with two glasses of ice-cold water, Anakin's eyes flicked to yours. “Thanks.” he muttered, taking the glass from your hands.

You sit on the plush couch, patting the seat next to you. “Come sit down, I don’t bite.” you joke, a smile playing on your lips as you settle in. Anakin did as you suggested, feeling the softness of the couch envelop him. He glanced around the room, taking in the cozy atmosphere.

“So, where are you headed when you leave here?” you ask, your curiosity piqued. Anakin swallowed the last of his water, setting the glass down on the coffee table.

“I don’t know, maybe just wander around for a bit, get some fresh air before bed.”

You nodded, sipping your water. “Well, if you ever need a companion on your wanders, you know where to find me.” Anakin smiled, feeling a sense of ease as he gazed at you.

“I'll keep that in mind,” he replied, his heart warming at the thought of spending more time with you. You pulled your knees sideways on the couch, resting your head on your hand propped on the back of the couch as you stared at Anakin. As you shifted in your seat, your cleavage was momentarily revealed, catching Anakin's eye. His heart skipped a beat, and he felt his cheeks flush with heat. He quickly stood up, his movements a little too abrupt. “I uh, I should get going.” he said, his voice a bit strained.

You looked up at him, confusion in your sweet eyes. “So soon?” you asked, tilting your head to the side. Anakin fumbled with his words, his mind racing with any possible excuses.

“Yeah I gotta head back, can’t leave my folks waiting for too long y’know.” he replied with a nervous chuckle, his gaze darting around the room. You smiled knowingly.

“I’m sure they’re fine, you don’t wanna leave me here alone do you?” you teased, your eyes never leaving his. He hesitated for a moment, the heat in his cheeks refusing to subside. But your playful smile and the warmth of the room proved too enticing. Slowly, he settled back onto the couch, his body easing into its familiar position.

You chuckled softly, your hand brushing against his as you scooted closer. “There you go.” your voice a content hum.

Anakin sat stiffly on the couch, his nerves still on edge. You noticed his discomfort and reached over to gently squeeze his forearm. “Relax, Anakin.” you coo, your voice smooth as honey. His muscles slowly began to unclench, the tension draining away under your touch. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, his body finally relaxing into the plush couch.

As Anakin relaxed, his eyes fluttered shut, surrendering to the calm that enveloped him. His breathing evened out, and the tension in his body dissipated. But as his mind finally began to clear itself, a bulge began to form in his jeans.

You noticed the change, your smile widening. You shifted closer to him, your warm breath brushing against his ear. "I think you're enjoying yourself more than you thought, Anakin," you whispered, your hand gently brushing against his bulge.

His eyes snap open as he jerked away from your body.

“I didn’t- I’m so sorry, I’ll get going-” he stammered, his face a fiery red. You placed a gentle hand on Anakin's shoulder, your touch soothing.

“It's okay,” you coo, your voice soft and reassuring. “There's no need to be embarrassed.” You leaned in closer, your lips brushing against his ear as you spoke softly.

“Let me take care of you.”

Anakin's breath hitched, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew he should say no, but the temptation was too great. Anakin’s eyes peered down to your hand, and to his own surprise, he found himself slowly nodding his head.

“Just relax.” You whisper, your fingers deftly unbuttoning his jeans. Anakin's breath caught in his throat as you slide your hand inside his pants, your touch gentle yet firm. He leaned back against the couch, his eyes fluttering shut as you began to stroke him through his boxers. Anakin's body responded to your touch, his hips bucking impatiently into your hand.

You obliged by pushing Anakin's boxers just beneath his balls, revealing his leaking cock.

“Aw baby, look at you,” You leaned forward, your spit landing right on his enraged tip. The cool glob felt like heaven against his heated skin. Anakin's body jerked, his head falling back against the couch as he let out a soft whine. His grip on the armrests tightened, his knuckles turning white.

“You feelin’ okay, sweet boy?” Your free hand reached up to caress Anakin's cheek, your touch gentle as you leaned in to kiss him softly.

His eyes fluttered open, meeting yours for a moment before closing again. “Y-yeah,” he groaned, his voice thick with need.

You increased your pace, your hand pumping his cock with feverish intensity. As you leaned forward once more, your lips slowly enveloped the head of his cock, your warm mouth enveloping him.

Anakin's back arched, his entire body trembling as you took him deeper down your throat. Your tongue swirled around the sensitive tip as your hand continuing to stroke the base.

Anakin didn't know what to do with his hands, his brain hazy with pleasure. Eventually, he reached out and gently rested his hands on the back of your head, his fingers carefully threading through your hair. The tension in Anakin's body tightened, his hips bucking up greedily into your mouth and soft whimpers leaving his lips as he felt himself getting closer and closer.

Anakin whined softly, his body trembling as he felt the edge nearing. “I’m so, ah- I’m s-so close.” he whimpered, his grip on your hair tightening. Sensing his urgency, you pulled your mouth off his aggravated cock, your lips glistening with saliva.

“Not yet,” you warn him. Anakin's brows furrowed, his body still quivering with need. “You’re too pretty to let go of so soon.”

You stood up and gracefully removed your shorts and underwear. You straddled his lap, your warm, wet cunt teasingly close to his throbbing erection.

Anakin's heart raced, his eyes drinking in the sight of your exposed body. “I haven't done this before,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. You smiled, your hand stilling for a moment.

“It's okay,” you reassured him, your voice gentle. “Do you still want to?” Anakin nodded, his heart pounding in his chest.

He hums a ‘mhm’ his voice firm despite the nerves that coursed through him. You slowly lowered yourself onto him, your warmth enveloping him completely. Anakin let out a shaky breath, his hands gripping your hips as you began to move. The sensation was unlike anything he'd ever experienced, every nerve in his body alight with electricity.

You rode him slowly at first, your movements smooth and deliberate. You leaned forward and your lips brushing against his as you began to pick up the pace. Anakin's body responded to your touch, his hips rising to meet yours.

Anakin whimpered underneath you and his head tipped back against the back of the couch. You felt his hands finding their way to your hips, his fingers digging into your soft flesh as he began to gently guide your movements. Anakin's body tensed, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. He could feel his orgasm building once more, the hot burn coiling within him, just waiting to snap.

“I’m- I’m so close,” he gasped, his grip on your hips tightening. You increased your pace, your movements quick and precise.

“I know sweetheart. Be a good boy and make me cum with you.” you muse from above him. Your words set off the final spark, and Anakin's body convulsed as he released inside your cunt. Your own orgasm followed close behind, your body shuddering as you rode out your climax.

“That was-” The sound of the front door opening jolted the both of you back to reality. Your heart leapt into your throat as you heard your father's voice, speaking about coming home early from work. Anakin's eyes widened, his body instantly tense.

You quickly hopped off Anakin’s lap, your heart pounding as you scrambled to cover yourself. Your father strode into the living room, his expression changing from exhaustion to pure anger.

“What in the world do you think you're doing?” he demanded, his eyes narrowing as they landed on Anakin. His face paled, his heart sinking as he realized the gravity of the situation.

Your father's anger boiled over, his voice a bellow as he ordered, “Get out of my house!” Anakin scrambled to pull up his pants, his movements hurried and clumsy as he tried to leave. You were too stunned to move and watched as he fumbled with the zipper.

In his haste, Anakin tripped on the rug, his body crashing forward as he tried to catch himself. The fall sent him tumbling out the front door, his body landing on the porch with a thud.

“And I don’t wanna see you around here anymore!” Your father slammed the door shut, leaving Anakin alone on the porch. His face burned with embarrassment, but he forced himself to his feet to finish pulling up his pants. Anakin brushed the dirt from the front of his pants and went on his merry way.

The walk back felt like an eternity, his thoughts whirling while he tried to make sense of the situation. The town that had once felt like a haven now seemed to mock him, the houses standing tall and judgmental as he made his way back to his humble abode.

[koostattoos]

➳ There’s Only Me When There’s You || j.jk

~ Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

~ Genre: slight enemies to lovers, high school au, fluff, MAJOR angst, first love, young love (Inspired by 2000's film A Walk to Remember by Nicholas Sparks)

~ Summary: Being new was tough. Starting out in a new school and new town without any idea where to go or any friends was tougher. When coming across Jungkook and his friends, school hadn't got any easier. When you get paired with Jungkook for a project your life becomes hell, or was it heaven?

~ Warnings: MAJOR character death, a fight happens, mentions of a hospital, mentions of blood, fluff, fluff, fluff! 190811!jungkook (iykyk), jk’s lowkey an asshole but he’s actually the sweetest, they’re so incredibly adorable i’m sobbing, use of petnames (mostly baby)

~ word count: 15.1k

• currently playing: star by colde

a/n: this is pure fiction. pls don’t discern the characters in the story to them irl! happy reading! 🫶🏼

~

This past summer your family moved to a new city. Yongsan was small, that’s what you liked about it. But your family wanted to get away from the big bustling city of Seoul. They thought it’d be better for you. Moving was exciting to you. Being in a new place and all. The house they had bought was small, it had two bedrooms, with a bathroom, and a big enough living space for the three of you.  

The people in the neighborhood were nice. They welcomed you with fresh food and some plants to plant in the mini greenhouse next to the yard. It was very thoughtful of them. Tomorrow is your first day at your new school. You were going into your senior year. They say it’s supposed to be one of the most exciting times in high school.  

After you finish unpacking your things you walk into the living room where your dad was sitting. He was on the phone talking with the moving people to figure out where the rest of your stuff was. And your mom was in the kitchen preparing dinner. You decide to take yourself out of the house and explore the small town you now call home.  

Making sure your parents knew where you were, you turn your head around the corner of the kitchen and call for your mom. 

“I’m gonna go out and look around town, is that okay?”  

“Yeah, sure. Just be careful. Don’t go too far and be back before the sun goes down.” she tells you 

Nodding your head, you turn to put your shoes on and make sure you have your phone with you. The air outside was nice. It was still mid-summer but the weather around this time seemed to cool down.  

When you walk into the village you meet a lot of nice people. Mrs. Kim was the first person you met. “Hi honey. Are you new around here? I don’t think I’ve ever seen your face around here”. She ran one of the local restaurants.  

“No, I’ve actually moved here a few days ago. My family and I live nearby. I just wanted to come in and see what was around here. So, I know somewhat my way around.” you explain to her. She nods her head and gasps as an idea pops up into her head.  

“Well, if you ever need anything, please stop by. I’ll be glad to help” she says to you with a sweet smile.  

“Thank you, Mrs. Kim. I’ll keep that in mind. Have a good night” you smile at her and walk away to explore more of the village. There wasn’t much to do. There were a few bookstores you had walked past and a few other markets. Deciding to head back home you text your mom that you were on your way. Without looking at where you were going you bumped into a firm chest. When you look up, you’re met with a teenage boy. His hair was a bit of a mess but still maintained. He was actually rather cute.  

Before you could say anything, he says, “Are you okay?�� you pause for a minute trying to collect your thoughts. He looks blankly at you waiting for you to respond. Finally, after staring at him for what felt like an eternity, you answer him. “Yeah, I’m okay. I’m sorry for bumping into you” you bow your head slightly to him as you apologize.  

“It’s alright. Are you new around here? I don’t think I’ve seen you before” you respond the same way you answered to Mrs. Kim. You tell him that you had just moved here a few days ago with your family. He nods his head and excuses himself. But not before he introduces himself.  

“I’m Jungkook by the way.” He has a faint smile on his lips. You tell him your name. “It’s nice to meet you, Jungkook” he nodded and slowly started to walk away. “It was nice to meet you too” Finally, you both bid goodbye to each other and you make your way back home.  

~ 

Jungkook and his friends were out tonight. There was a bridge near one of the old farms, no one was allowed near there, yet they all agreed to meet up.  Taehyung brought along his girlfriend and her friends. Their other friend Jimin decided to tag along with them.  

Jungkook came up late (as usual) and Taehyung walks up and grabs his best friend by the nape of his neck playfully. “Where the hell have you been. We were all waiting for you” he says 

“Don’t worry about it, I’m here now, aren’t I?”  

Taehyung laughs at him. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Does anyone have the drinks?” Jimin walks up next to them and pulls out a case of Soju from the trunk of his car and places it next to him. Taehyung’s girlfriend, Ara, holds him by his waist and asks Jimin to pass her a drink. Her friend, Sooha, hasn’t taken her eyes off Jungkook since he got there. He walks over to Jimin and grabs a bottle for himself. As he stands next to Jimin, Sooha makes her way to the case and takes one. She ‘tries’ to open the bottle but fails. She pouts her lips and looks up to Jungkook “Can you open this for me Jungkookie”  

He looks down at her and grabs the bottle from her hand and opens it for her.  

“Who’s jumping first?”  

Jimin speaks up “I think you should Kook. Since you were late, you should make up for it” Taking a swig of his drink Jungkook shrugs his shoulders and places his down. He takes off his pants and his black t-shirt. He stands on top of the bridge and flips everyone off.  

Then, he jumps backwards into the river full of water. And yells at the top of his lungs  

“Fuck all of you!” 

With all the noise they were making a farmer flashed a light towards them.  

“Hey! Who’s over there! You shouldn’t be here! He yells at them.  

“Shit, shit, shit!” Jungkook says under his breath swimming back to where his clothes were.  

“Hurry get in the car!” Taehyung urges his girlfriend.  

Everyone fled and Jungkook was left to fend for himself.  

“Is that you Jeon!” the man says 

“Fuck” he runs for his car and speeds off.  

~ 

The next morning, Jungkook walks out of his room into the living room. His mom was already in the kitchen.  

“I heard what you did last night Jungkook” she says with a stern voice  

“Why do you always get yourself stuck in these situations! I mean this is the third time already and school has just barely started a couple weeks ago! You are so irresponsible. And you know what ever since you started hanging out with that boy Taehyung, that’s all you’ve been doing is getting in trouble” she yells at him in disappointment.  

“You’re hanging out with the wrong crowd here Jungkookie, you need to find new people to hang out with” she shakes her head at him and walks away.  

He sits there thinking about what his mother said.  

~  You wake up to your alarm blaring in your ear. Today was your first day at your new school. The feeling of anxiety kept you up at night and you barely had any sleep. The clock read 7:00 a.m. When you walk out of your room, you’re hit with the smell of breakfast. Walking into the living room your father is nowhere to be seen. Your mom had told you that he went out to find a job locally. 

“So how do you feel about being at a new school?” 

Registering her question in your sleepy state you make up a smile and answer her. “I’m nervous, I’ll be fine though” she nods her head at you and goes to make her morning coffee.  

Done with breakfast you walk over to your bathroom to clean yourself up. You haven’t bothered with makeup since freshman year. It only made your face feel gunky with the number of products you used to feel pretty.  

Your outfit was simple. It was a soft pink cardigan with a white skirt matching it. You tied your hair up into a half ponytail. Leaning down to pick up your backpack from your floor; you make your way to the front door and tell your mom goodbye. 

 “I love you, I’ll be back soon mom”  

“Okay, I love you too honey. Have a good day at school.” she tells you.  

The school was only a five-minute walk from your house.  

~ 

“Yo, check out her sweater,” Jimin says 

You were wearing a pastel-colored cardigan with flowers on it. It was a bit beat up because you’ve worn it so many times. But you still liked to wear it.  

“Yeah I think I wore it when I was nine” Sooha chuckles  

They see you walk past them with a few books in your hand and hardly any idea where to go.  

“Um excuse me, do you know where the front office is?” You ask one of them. You hadn’t noticed Jungkook, but he pays attention to you.  

Taehyung speaks up and laughs “It’s down that way” he points into a direction. You nod you head at him “Cute sweater” Sooha says sarcastically. Not reading her sarcasm you tell her “Thank you” and make your way over to the office. When you’re out of sight they all begin to laugh. Jungkook with a faint smile painted on his lips. 

~ 

“Jungkook to the principal's office, Jungkook to the principal's office” is heard over the intercom. Groaning, he makes his way over to the front of the school where he’s needed. He knocks on the door and Mr. Kang holds his hand up and tells him to wait outside as he finishes up talking to another student.  

A few minutes pass by and when the student walks out the principle motions his hand for Jungkook to come in. He walks through the door and shuts it.  

“So, Mr. Jeon, I’ve heard from your mother you’re causing trouble again? I thought we spoke of this.” 

Jungkook doesn’t say anything. He sits in silence and only waits for Mr. Kang to continue.  

“I also couldn’t help but notice your grades have slipped during last year’s final exam. And ever since school started a few weeks ago you already have such low grades.” Sitting in the chair in front of Mr. Kang’s desk he slouches, shakes his head, and laughs in disbelief.  

“Your absences and tardies have affected you severely. You haven’t always been like this Jungkook. I think it’s time for you to seek out new friends and join a new crowd.” Mr. Kang places his hands over his desk and continues.  

“From now on, you will stay after school to be tutored and I have asked the clean-up committee if they are able to let you work to help clean up around the school on the days you don’t have tutoring. I expect you to follow my instructions. If not, there will be consequences. Do I make myself clear Mr. Jeon”  

Sighing in defeat, he nods.  

“Yes, Mr. Kang” 

“Good. Now get out of my office and get to class” 

~ 

 When you got to the front office. They gave you your schedule for your classes for this year. When you walk out of the office you bump into someone. You don’t get to catch a glimpse of who the person was as they continued walking and didn’t bother to say sorry. Brushing it off, one of the student aids in the office is instructed to show you around campus.  

After the tour was done you walk to the first class of the day. Botany. Plants always caught your interest when you were younger. You always wanted to see the cherry blossom trees. They were looked beautiful no matter what time of the year it was.  

As you walk into class all eyes were on you. You slowly make your way to the front and the techer finally notices you.  

“Ah, you must be our new student. I’m Mr. Jung. Do you mind introducing yourself?” 

“Well, I’m from Seoul, and I’ve moved here only a couple of days ago. I hope you treat me kindly” you say to the class.  

When you say your name a certain person’s ears perk up. Jungkook looks to the head of the class and remembers you from the day before. The girl who bumped into him. Next to him he hears his friend, Taehyung, make a comment about you. “She looks” he pauses “Like a loser” he laughs quietly next to Jungkook. He disagrees strongly, but he laughs along with his friend.  

When you make your way over to your seat. Taehyung pushes his foot in front of you and you trip and almost land on your knees. If it weren’t for the desks next to you. Your face turns beet red out of embarrassment. The whole class starts to laugh at you. Quietly making your way to your seat, you sit down and take your things out of your backpack.  

“Alright everyone quiet down. Let’s start with today’s lesson”  

Completely blocking out what the teacher says you only think about when today was going to end.  

~ 

During lunch you sat by yourself. You had tried talking to some of the kids in your class, but they only said a few words to you before walking away. You shook it off and thought maybe you could find someone to talk to tomorrow. As you take your food out, you don’t notice a group of people walking to the table you’re sitting at. When you look up you see the boy who had tripped you earlier. You also take notice of the boy you bumped into yesterday.  

“Oh, hi Jungkook! I didn’t know you went here” you say to him. But the boy in front of him looks confused at him. There was girl next to Jungkook. She gave you a disgusted look as you spoke. 

“Kook, you know her?” he points at you. You have a look of confusion on your face as well. What you’re not prepared for was the boy’s response.  

“I don’t, I don’t know how she knows my name” he only shrugs. This has you extremely confused.  

“Alright weirdo looks like you have no friends. Now I know why” The boy you had yet to know the name of walks away. But before Jungkook could follow his group he looks back at you for a second, then he makes his way.  

~ 

After school you decide to take a walk into town. You stop by Mrs. Kim’s and hang out there and talk to her. You felt you needed to take on a small job to help boost your family a little bit. So, you bring it up to her. “Mrs. Kim?” you say “Yes, dear”  

“I was wondering if you were hiring? I want to help out my family. We're not really doing the best right now and I wanted to see if I could do a small job for you?” you ask hoping she would say yes.  

“That’s so sweet of you” she places a hand over her chest  

“Of course, I can get you something to do here. Can you start tomorrow after school?” she asks 

“Yes!” With that you make your way back home.  

~  It was getting close to the end of school. Your plan was to go straight to Mrs. Kim’s place so you could officially start your new job. But, of course, your plan had to be messed up in some way. Because when you make your way to the front of the school to go on your way. You run into Jungkook’s friend group. You try your best to ignore them, but their yelling of your name stopped you in your tracks. 

Taehyung walks up to you. He only stands in front of you before he speaks up.  

“Look new girl, this is a scary world we live in. But I think it’d be best if you kept your distance from other people. You know, since you’re new and all. Some kids find it a little weird when you know their name when they’ve never spoken to you. Okay?” he says in a mocking tone. Jungkook stands there and watches it all happen. They walk away. But the girl that gave you a look earlier bumps into your shoulder.  

“Oops!” she says as she walks over to Jungkook’s side and locks her arm with his. What you don’t notice when you turn back around is that he removes her arm from his and takes a different route from the others.  

~ 

It’s been almost a week since you started at your new school. You still hadn’t made any progress with making new friends. You didn’t mind though. You liked to keep to yourself anyway. What threw you off still was the way Jungkook had denied that he knew you. And the way he looked at you every time you walked into class.  

Everything about him confused you. When you walk into class today, he does the same thing. He looks at you but when you look back at him, he looks away. The boy you had now learned his name was Taehyung only looked at you as if you were some weird creature. You sat down at your desk in the back of the class and waited for class to start. Mr. Jung started the lesson and started to explain what he had planned.  “Okay class, today I have a partner project planned” he says.  

“You all have to make a presentation and I will provide you with a plant. You must discuss and explain how the operation of a plant affects our environment.  This will be due by the end of this month. Any questions?”  

Taehyung raises his hand “Yes, Mr. Kim”  

“Will we get to pick our partners?” he asks 

“I have already assigned partners so; no, you do not get to choose who you work with.”  

“Dammit” he says under his breath  

I have put your names up on the sheet I put in the front of the room. Please look at it as you make your out at the end of class” 

You weren’t too worried about who you’d be partnered with. You just hoped you hadn’t gotten paired with Taehyung or any of his group. When you walk up to the sheet of paper you read your name next to Jeon Jungkook.  

~ 

Spending the majority of your time at Mrs. Kim’s washing a few dishes here and there. You decide to work on part of your assignment for Mr. Jung’s class. As you took your things out of your bag you heard the beeping sound of someone entering the restaurant.  

A drink is placed on your table. You look up to see it was Jungkook.  

“Hi” he says quietly 

Ignoring him you go back to what you were doing. Sighing, he sits down at your table and puts a hand over your book. Looking up at him with an annoyed look on your face you puff out air from your nose with furrowed brows.  

“Do I know you?” you say in a sarcastic voice 

He scoffs at you and looks down at the floor. His elbow is resting on the table while the other is laid in his lap. “C’mon now don’t be like that”. He can’t be serious. After acting like he had no clue who you were and letting his friends treat you like trash he wants to act like you’re in the wrong.  

Furious, you pick up your things and try to walk out of the restaurant. Before you can make it out of the door you feel a hand tug on your arm. You stop in your tracks, and you hear Jungkook open his mouth to speak. Yet, nothing comes out. Turning around to face him and raise your eyebrows at him, waiting for him to say something.  

“Look, I came here so we could work on our project. I got you as my partner and I can’t fail this project.”  

Deciding not to be petty you oblige. You shake your head and walk back to the table you were sitting at.  

During the middle of working on your project Jungkook speaks up.  

“Um, look. You’re smart right? Do you think you can tutor me after school?” he asks out of the blue. You look up at him with a surprised look on your face. Should you really do this? After how he’s treated you? You think for a moment before you reply.  

“Okay” you tell him. There’s too much hate in this world. You take the nicer route and agree with him.  

He smiles. 

“Okay, great. What days are you available?” he asks. You begin to plan out the days you would tutor Jungkook and the days you’d be working with Mrs. Kim. This is more than you thought you’d take on. But if you power through, you would be okay.  

~ 

You told Jungkook you were available on the weekends and some days of the week. It was Saturday. You told him to meet you at the library at 8:00 a.m. The library opened an hour earlier than that, so you decided to show up a little earlier than planned to catch up on some of your other class assignments.  

When you look at the clock again it reads 8:17. He was late. Not having his phone number, you weren’t able to text him. It’s not when you hear the silent panting of someone coming up behind you that you begin to place your things back on the table.  

“I’m sorry I’m late. I woke up late and I completely forgot to set an alarm”  

You look down to the table and audibly sigh  

“It’s okay, let’s just start on this so you don’t have to be here as long as you should be”  

Finally caught up with his breath, he closes his mouth and stares at you. He takes his seat next to you and pulls out his textbooks. The book you had placed on the table had some loose papers in it. One of them being something for your eyes only. It fell on the floor, and you hadn’t noticed. Jungkook leans to pick it up. The only word he read at the top of the paper was ‘List’. Realizing what he had in his hand you snatch the paper from his hold.  

“What is that” he asks. “It’s a list of things I’d wish to do in my life” he nods his head and looks back down to his paper. “What’s so bad on the list that you grabbed it out of my hand like that?” You clear your throat and answer him. “There’s nothing bad, they’re just some things I’d like to do with the time that I have” Before he can ask what you mean you clap your hands quietly. “Let’s just start studying”  

Without pushing any further, he agrees.  

The next day at school you walk in and see Jungkook again. He’s standing with his friends by his locker. That same girl that bumped into you is standing next to him. You walk towards them. When you get closer, they’re all laughing at something you didn’t hear. You move your attention to Jungkook. “Jungkook, are we still on for Saturday?” you ask him. He looks around at his friends. They’re laughing at what you just said. 

He has a faint smile on his lips. He looks back up at you and says, “You wish”. You’re once again left, confused. You walk away and hear them all laughing again. “Oooh that’s gotta hurt.” Taehyung said. His arm wrapped around his girlfriend he starts laughing into his neck.  

~  Jungkook was on a late-night drive. There was a small garden just past the school library. Nobody went there except for old people and sometimes the gardeners to take care of the plants. “What the hell” he sees you make your way over to the entrance of the garden. He rolls his window down and yells out your name. 

You turn around scared half to death at the loud voice that just called your name. When you see Jungkook you continue your way over to the garden.  

“Hey! Wait!”. The engine of his car is turned off and you hear the slam of his door. He’s running up to you and you’ve slowed down your pace.  

“What are you doing out here so late? And why are you by yourself, there’s weird people out at this hour”  

“Well, that wouldn’t be a problem because according to your friends I’m placed under that category”  

You begin to make your way over to the flowers. There was a magnolia tree with a wooden bench underneath. Taking a seat under the tree some of the flowers fell off the stem and landed on the bench. Jungkook takes his seat next to you and looks up at the sky. Tonight was quiet. The rustling of the wind against the leaves of the tree is soothing.  

“Are you ever gonna tell me about that list?” 

You turn your head to him “Why would I? And why do you suddenly have any interest in me? What is it to you?”  

“I just want to be your friend; I know it’s been tough for you ever since you got her-” you cut him off before he can continue his sentence. “What the hell do you know? I’ve been treated like shit since I got to the school and it’s because of your friends.” 

He’s left speechless. His intention was never to make you feel like this. The reason why he acted like that is because his friends acted like that. Jungkook and Taehyung have always been friends. He would always follow Taehyung’s lead. They did everything together. Their friend group only expanded with the added years.  

He looks down in shame. Feeling guilty for the way he’s been treating you. You break the silence and switch to another topic.  

“That list” you say. This catches his attention as he looks up slowly and waits for you to continue.  

“I made it a few years ago. I want to try and fulfill it as much as I can” you smile down at your lap. Thinking about possibly doing the million things you wrote down on that piece of paper. “I want to visit a forest of cherry blossom trees. I’ve always had a fascination with them. They look so pretty, it’s a shame that they only bloom once out of the whole year. They don’t live that long. Just to experience them once would be amazing.” 

Jungkook sits and listens. “You’re really into mother nature. Huh?” he says. “It’s really great, how the Earth becomes so beautiful with the plants that surround us.” You smile at that. Looking around at the flowers planted in the grounds of the garden. You could talk endlessly about them.  

And you do that night with Jungkook.  

Out of nowhere in the comfort of the silence between you two he brings it up again.  

“What else is on that list? What’s the first one you have written down?” he asks curiously. You look down at your lap and smile.  

“That’s classified information Jeon Jungkook” you look up at him. Laughing and nodding his head he puts his hands up in the air.  

“Alright fine, then, what else is on there?” 

“Hmm” you think for a second.  

“I wanna experience love. The way they put it in movies. I want to experience that love so bad.” you sigh 

Jungkook looks at you and listens. “Another thing on that list is to learn how to cook. My mother makes it look so easy” you chuckle. 

“Okay what’s one more thing on there” he asks  

“I want to get a tattoo” 

The list went on and on and he sat there listening to you the whole night. 

Jungkook hears rustling in the bushes behind him. He brushes it off and looks at you as you speak about your passion for nature.  

~ 

Today was Jungkook’s birthday. It was also Saturday. You scheduled today to help tutor him. When he walks up to your front gate, he knocks on it and waits for someone to open it. Not expecting your father to open it, he gives Jungkook a glare. 

“What do you want and what are you doing here?” he says in a low voice. He’s heard a few words about the Jeon boy. The boy was a troublemaker. He didn’t do good in school, and he had nothing going for him except for being popular. Your father was skeptical, but when he hears you walk up to the gate, he settles down a bit, guard still put up high. 

“Dad, it’s okay. I invited him over; I told him I’d help him with his studies.” 

He looks over at you with confusion written all over his face. “Why are you doing that sweetheart? This boy is bad news” he points his finger at Jungkook, and he rolls his eyes.  

“Because Dad, there’s too much hate going around in this world. I think giving him a second chance is greater than having no chances at all.” you kiss him on the cheeks and only slightly agrees with you. You walk back to the house and wait for Jungkook to walk in.  

But your father stops him in his tracks. “Listen, if you try or do anything stupid with her, I’m kicking your ass. You understand?” Jungkook looks up at him and nods. He makes his way over to you quickly trying to ignore your father’s stare.  

~  When he enters your house, it’s filled with plants everywhere. A few boxes are left to be unpacked but the house is mostly filled. Entering your room, you have flowers decorating the walls of your room. Your window is open and looks out to a tiny garden in your backyard.  

The books spread around your floor are open to different pages about math. Jungkook had been struggling in it and considering your already high grade in calculus he should be in good hands.  

“I heard around school that it’s your birthday today. I stopped by Mrs. Kim’s and got you this.” You walk over to your kitchen and pull out a plastic bag. It was a bowl of miyeokguk. The seaweed soup that your mother cooks for you for your birthday every year. He looks up at you and smiles.  

“Thank you, you didn’t have to get me anything.” 

“Well it is your birthday. Everybody deserves something on their special day” you say cheerfully.  

Sighing you look down at the books on your floor and say, “Let’s get started shall we?”  

~ 

“You’ll never believe what I saw the other night” Sooha says. She pulls out her phone to show everyone what she was talking about. It was a picture of you and Jungkook sitting at the garden talking. “What the hell is he doing sitting and talking with her?” Taehyung laughs. “Yeah, I thought JK didn’t know her” Jimin says.  

“Yeah well looks like their best friends” Sooha pauses.  

“I have an idea” Ara says with a smirk on her face.  

“Come inside”  

She takes them to her room and opens her laptop. She pulls up an old picture of you from your old school. She had to do some digging to find it. The picture was of you at a dance. You had your makeup and hair done. And you were wearing a long silky blue dress. Ara clicks on it and begins planning out her idea. She crops your body out of the picture and pastes it onto a picture with a bed with red satin sheets on it.  

“This is gonna be so good” she chuckles 

~  Sitting in the library, you have a book in your hand about cherry blossom trees. It explains so much about things you hadn’t known about them, and your head is so deep into the book you don’t realize Jungkook pulling out a chair next to you. You look up to see him looking at you.  

“What are you reading?” You pull the book up close to his face so he can read it. “Ahh, the encyclopedia of the cherry blossom tree. Have you read anything more interesting about it?”  

“I read that they symbolize the beauty of both life and death. Spring is when they bloom and it’s the start of a new life. This is what I love so much about them, they have such beautiful meanings to them” 

“Hmm, that is really interesting” Jungkook says.  

You put your book down and furrow your brows at him. “What do you want Jeon, were in public you know? Someone can see you sitting here.” He scoffs and shakes his head. “Is it so hard to believe that I want to be friends with you? Maybe even something more, possibly? Why do you think I’ve spent so much time with you lately?” he raises his eyebrows at you this time. Trying to read your expression. You stare into his eyes and try to process the words that just came out of his mouth.  

After pausing, Jungkook leans in. His face close to yours, lips almost touching. His forehead leans against yours and he smiles. Jungkook closes his eyes and places a hand over your cheek. “I’ll see you after school tomorrow, okay?” he says under his breath.  

Taking a deep breath, you nod your head.  

~ 

During lunch the next day, you walked out of class to make your way to the roof of the school, where you always hung out, but you see Sooha from the corner of your eye. She walks up to you and places a hand on your arm.  

She calls out your name. “Hey, look. I need your help with something. Could you follow me to the courtyard please?” she asks in a soft tone.  

“Sure, but what for?” 

“Ugh enough with the questions already! Just follow me, it’ll be super quick.”  

“Um okay” 

As you make your way down the halls and to the exit of the building, you walk down the steps into the courtyard space where everyone was. When you get there, it becomes silent. All eyes are on you. Then, Jimin bursts out laughing. Taehyung is clutching his stomach because of how hard he’s laughing. Everyone has their phone in their hand, and they all point at it. “Oh?” Sooha says. She picks up Ara’s phone and shows it to you.  

“Is this you?” When you look at the phone, it’s a picture of you. It’s the picture from your junior year at your dance. Your body was laid on a red bed. Your clothes were edited to make it seem like you weren’t wearing anything. The text above the picture said ‘___ The Slut?’  

You feel a burning sensation behind your eyes. Your vision starts to become blurry. With everyone laughing at you; you turn around too embarrassed to be in front of anyone. But when you try to make it to the exit of the courtyard you bump into someone. You look up and you see Jungkook. “Hey, what’s wrong” he moves your hair out of your face and holds you cups your cheeks. He wipes your tears with his thumb.  

You hold on to his wrist and push him away. You run out, wishing the ground would swallow you whole. 

“Wait!” Jungkook yells after you. He turned around to see what had happened while he was gone.  

“What the hell did you do Sooha” he says furiously. He clenches his jaw and balls his hands up into a fist. Taehyung makes his way over to him with his arms crossed over his chest.  

“What JK? It was just a little bit of fun, what the fuck is wrong with you. You haven’t been hanging out with your real friends. You’re always spending time with the slut” he laughs.  

The amount of hate Jungkook feels in his blood right now is too much to handle. He’s never felt this angry towards someone. He rushes toward Taehyung and punches him on the cheek.  

“Jungkook!” Ara screams at him. Jungkook repeatedly hits him until he’s physically tired. Jimin reaches Jungkook’s shirt and pulls him away. “Enough man. He’s bleeding all over the place! Calm the fuck down!” It’s Jimin’s turn to yell, but he doesn’t care. All he cares about right now is finding you.  

He rushes his way out of the courtyard and runs in the direction he saw you walk away in.  

Finally spotting you in the front of the school he runs after you.  

“Hey!” he calls your name softly. After catching up to you he places his hands on your cheeks again.  

“What did they do? Huh? I swear to God, I’ll fucking hurt them even more if you tell me what’s wrong” Tears are streaming down your face. Seeing you cry makes him feel an ache in his chest. Jungkook tries his best to wipe them away. When you see his knuckles, they’re covered in blood. “Are you okay?” you ask him.  

“Baby, I’m fine. It’s you that I’m worried about right now.” 

You turn in his hold, but he refuses to let you walk away from him. He holds you by your arms and makes you look into his eyes. He quietly says your name. “Tell me what happened” he says in a low voice. You look up at him and completely break down.  

He pulls you in closer to his chest and wraps his arms around you gently. “They embarrassed me. So bad, I can’t do this right now.” you cry into his neck. He kisses the crown of your head and then your forehead. “I’m here, baby.” he says to you. Stroking the back of your head as you weep in his arms.  

~ 

Jungkook drove you home that day. After he parked in front of your house, he walked you to the front gate. Walking side by side you turn to face him. “Thank you for today, Jungkook. I don’t know how I’d repay you” you tell him. He looks down at you and smiles. “You don’t need to repay me, as long as you’re okay then I’m okay. Alright?” 

Nodding your head up at him you realize just how close your faces are. He looks down to your lips and back up to your eyes. His head leaning in slowly, hands placed lightly on your hips. Then, the buzzer of the gate opens and reveals your father.  

Standing, patiently he waited for you to come back inside the house. “Say goodnight to Mr. Jeon, sweetheart” he tells you. You look back to Jungkook and place a gentle hand on his cheek. “Goodnight” you say sweetly to him. He smiles down at you and says the same thing. After watching you walk through the doors of your house Jungkook looks at your dad. “Goodnight, sir.” He walks away and gets into his car. 

Later that night your phone starts to buzz with an incoming call. Picking up the phone you read the name. ‘Jungkook’ pops up on the screen and you slide the answer button. “Hey, what are you doing up so late?” you ask him with a tired voice. “I could ask you the same thing; I wasn’t sure if you’d even answer.” His heartbeat picks up at the thought of you in bed with drowsy eyes and cute pajamas on. “I just wanted to check in to see how you were doing” you chuckled at him. Butterflies erupt in your stomach thinking about him caring this much about you.  

“I’m doing just fine Jungkook, stop worrying so much. How’s your hand?” you say. You couldn’t help but think about what happened after you left the courtyard. Did he fight someone? 

“It’s been better”  

“What happened back there? Did you punch someone?” You ask, curious to know what had gone on. He sighs over the phone. He takes a deep breath before answering you. “Look, don’t worry about it alright? Knowing that your fine is enough for right now.”  

He looks up at the clock on his dresser and reads the time. It’s getting late and he feels bad for keeping you up at such an hour. “You should head to bed, it’s getting late.” Nodding your head, you agree with him. “You’re right, goodnight Jungkook.” 

“Before you go” he says and takes a moment to collect his thoughts and come up with something to say.  

“Um do you wanna, maybe, go out with me tomorrow?” He waits for you to answer. 

“I don’t think I can.” you tell him. His mood completely drops. His shoulders deflate as he tries to think of what to say next.  

“Oh”  

It’s silent for a moment. 

“Do you have something already planned for tomorrow or” he stops 

“I can’t date” you say softly, smiling even though he can’t see you.  

“I see” he says lost in thought.  

“Uh, you better get to sleep. I'm sorry for keeping you up” 

You laugh lightly. “Goodnight, Jungkook” you say for the last time.  

“Goodnight, sweetheart” 

~  Jungkook has tried his hardest to build up the courage to talk to your parents and get their blessing. He’s been spending a lot more time with you lately. Meeting you after school and walking to the garden together. Jungkook also, hasn’t built up the courage to confess how he feels about you.  

It’s driving him absolutely insane. But there was no way you hadn’t noticed it by now. He was so obvious. He always called you by petnames or he was always being touchy with you.  

One of the days he spent with you in the garden he brought a blanket and some food. Walking over to your usual meet up spot he sees you already sitting on the bench. Looking up at the leaves as they slowly fall. It was nearing the end of summer and fall was beginning to show itself.  

He couldn’t help but look at the way you sat there. Looking so effortlessly beautiful, you took his breath away. Walking up to you, you look up to see him with a bag and a basket clad in his hands. Your face lights up at the sight of him.  

Jungkook made you feel things you’ve never felt before, almost like you were sitting by a fireplace on a warm winter night, or cuddling in your blanket when the weather is rainy and gloomy outside. When he enters a room, your whole world completely lights up.  

The same goes for him. He can’t stop thinking about you whether it’s day or night. It’s every hour of the day that you occupy his mind. He’s so deeply infatuated with you it almost makes him sick with love.  

“Hi, baby,” he says. The petname makes your heart stop beating for a minute. You smile up at him and greet him back. “Hi,” you say with a sweet voice. He bends down to kiss your forehead and places the things down on the floor.  

Sneaking around behind your parents’ backs didn’t feel good but risking it all for him was worth it. “I brought a blanket and some food for us.” You giggle at his thoughtfulness. “Hmm, is today a special day or what?” you ask him. Feeling giddy as ever. “Nothing special, just felt like doing it” he shrugs his shoulders as he sets everything up.  

Moving down to the blanket laid over the grass you straighten out your white skirt and sit down. He sets the basket up next. Laying the food out for you, when he’s done, he moves to sit behind you and moves you, so you’re settled between his legs. Jungkook wraps his arms around your waist, kisses your temple, and simply breathes in the air around you.  

Sinking into his touch, you feel like you’re on clouds. The feeling he sets in you is magical. You so badly want to lay your lips on his soft ones, the thought of it makes your heart do flips. Jungkook could easily be the best thing that’s ever happened to you.  

~ 

Today was the day. The day that Jeon Jungkook finally found the courage to ask your parents for their blessing. He's scared shitless of what their answer could be. He’s praying that he gets a positive answer from them so he can finally give you something that you deserve. Taking a deep breath, he reaches the front of your gate once again.  

You were out today; you had told him you wanted to explore more of the town and spend some time with Mrs. Kim. He found this the perfect opportunity to come to your house and ask what he’s been dying to ask. He knocks on the gate to get your father’s attention. When the gate opens he’s met with your father and mother.  

Eyes flickering up and down at the boy. His heart is racing. Remembering what he was here for, he clears his throat and says, “Mr. and Mrs. __, I’d like to ask your permission to take your daughter out. I know she’s not allowed to date. But she deserves to be treated with the utmost respect and shown the love that she’s always desired for” he waits patiently for their response.  

They turn their heads to each other and close the gate. A strong rush of dissapointment washes over him as he starts to make his way back to his car. Heartbeat picking up he hears the rustling of the gate reopening and he hears your father yell for his name. “Mr. Jeon.”  

Jungkook turns his body so he’s facing your parents. “Yes, sir,” he says in a strong voice. “We will let you take our daughter out, only if you promise us you will never hurt her. And promise her you will fulfill her needs.” Elated, is what Jungkook feels. He feels like he’s on top of the world right now. A smile appears on his lips and falls to his knees and bows down to them. Not caring that his clothes are getting dirty.  

“I promise you both, I will take care of her.” he says.  

~ 

It’s the next day, you sat in Jungkook’s car still in disbelief that he got your parent’s blessing. “I can’t believe you did that for me” you look over at him with a fond smile. He places his hand over yours and brings it to his lips. “Baby, you don’t understand how long it took me to bring myself to them. I practically begged them.” he chuckles.  He pulled a bag out from behind your seat.

"What is it?"

"Open it up and see" he smiles

When you open the bag you see a pastel blue cardigan with butterflies and flowers decorating the hem of it.

"Oh, Jungkook you didn't have to"

"But I wanted to. I saw it and thought it'd look pretty on you" too shy to look at you he looks down at his lap and played with his hands

He planned out the perfect day for you. He couldn’t wait to spend it with you.  

Getting out of the car Jungkook made reservations for a restaurant that was way out of his budget. He had a little help from his mom and made sure to pay her back every cent. He holds your hand in his and guides you to your table. Pulling your chair out, he takes his own seat and scans over the menu. 

“Anything catch your eye? Order whatever you want” he tells you.  

Lips curling at the corners of your mouth you read through the different selections.  

~  Dinner was amazing. The waiter came to pick up your plates and Jungkook took you to an empty parking lot. “What are we doing?” Looking around and see no one in sight. “You said you wanted a tattoo, right?” From the front compartment of his car, he pulls out the fake tattoos you used to use when you were little. From the corner of his eye, he sees the biggest smile grow on your face.  

“Which one do you want?” scanning through the different types of tattoos.  

“Pick one for me” you tell him.  

He picked a cherry. Looking up at you he sees stars twinkle in your eyes as you look at him. “Where do you want it?” You pull down the neck of your sweater and show a bit of your chest. Right above your heart. Jungkook tears the tattoo out and gets a towel that was lying in his car and a water bottle. He dabs it over the tattoo where he placed it on over your heart. Pulling the paper back the print of the cherry is laying on your skin.  

He rubs his finger over it gently and looks at you. Averting your gaze, you start to feel nervous. Only Jungkook can make you feel like this.  

~  Jungkook wouldn’t tell you your next destination. He told you it would be quite a drive. So, you laid your head back and took a small nap. Jungkook placed his hand over your thigh and drove you to wherever he was taking you.  

It wasn’t until you opened your eyes; you saw a big white arch away. It was surrounded by cherry blossom trees. Jungkook looks over at your face. Smiling the biggest smile, you unbuckle your seatbelt and open the car door. Running up to the entrance you jump up and down giggling.  

Jungkook walking slowly with his hands in his pocket he watches you.  

“Oh my God! Oh my God! There’s so pretty!” you almost feel tears start to build up in your eyes. You can’t believe Jungkook drove all this way. He walks up next to you and tangles his hand in yours. “You wanna go see it?” he says, lips turned up into a smile. Nodding your head eagerly, you practically drag him over.  

Slowing down your pace you look around at the beautiful trees. The white and pinkish leaves fall into your hair. There’s a bridge that you stop at. In the middle of it, Jungkook places a hand on your cheek and turns your attention to him. You look up at him with those eyes. Eyes that he absolutely adores. He says your name softly and pulls you closer to you. “Do you like it? I tried so hard looking for them.” he tells you.  

“Jungkook, this is like, a dream come true. I can’t believe you did this, thank you so much.” You pull him in for a hug and dig your face into his neck. His hold around you tight as he closes his eyes and soaks in the moment.  

When you pull away your faces are close, lips to point they’re basically touching. He cups your cheeks with his hand and says, “I need to tell you something” you hum in response. He takes a deep breath in and finally spits out what he’s been holding in for a while.  

“I love you” your heart stops.  

You look into his eyes and scan his face. Looking at the little mole under his lip. And the scar that grazes his upper cheek. 

“Can I kiss you?” you ask him  

He only nods and slowly pulls your face closer to his. Noses brushing softly against each other. Your lips graze each other softly. Then, he slots them together. Connecting them. You feel a rush of blood go to your head. Your cheeks are warm and flushed with red. The sounds around you are the streaming water beneath your feet, the rustling wind against the leaves. And birds chirping in the trees.  

The leaves are falling on top of you. This moment couldn’t be any more perfect.  

~ 

On the drive home Jungkook held your hand the whole way there. Music played softly in the background and the windows rolled down to let in a gentle breeze.  

When you arrive at the gate of your house, he parks his car in the same spot that he does every time he visits. Walking up to the front your hand is warm in his. You stop and turn to him. “So, what does that make us?” you ask smiling up at him.  

“Well, I thought it was kinda obvious. You just want me to say it, huh?” He laughs at you. Nodding your head, you wait for him to say what you want to hear. “That makes you my girlfriend” he wraps his arms around your neck and gives your nose a little peck. You scrunch up your nose smile. You’ve been smiling the whole day your face is starting to hurt.  

“Then you’re my boyfriend” you giggle. He leans in and places his lips on yours. He smiles into the kiss, and you can feel it against your lips. The gate opens and reveals your father. Who has been waiting for you to come home. “Oh, hi dad” you say. “Honey, why don’t you come inside. It’s getting late and it’s cold” You sigh and turn back to Jungkook.  

“Bye” you place a peck on his lips. “Goodnight, baby.” he says and looks up at your father and walks back to his car. Once you’re on the other side of the gate your dad stops you for a moment. “Have you told him?” Smile dropping you look down to the floor.  

“Not yet” 

“Don’t make this harder for him or for yourself sweetheart” 

“I love him dad and he love me. I’ll get there eventually” 

~  At school, you’re walking hand in hand with your boyfriend. Walking past his (ex) friends, they all have their eyes on you. Sooha has an irritated look on her face. But walking past them made you feel more confident in yourself. Being with Jungkook like this made you confident.  

Walking into the library you and Jungkook take a seat by the window and just sit in comfortable silence. Your legs are over his on the small couch and you’re reading your books about cherry blossoms again. That day that he took you to see the cherry blossoms, he had kept a pedal that fell from the tree and kept it in a glass container. It’s a day he’ll never forget. It’s the day he got to tell his lover that he loved her and made her his. He’s so eternally grateful to whatever god that sent you to him.  

He was on his phone when he suddenly broke the silence.  

“Baby?” He calls for your attention.  

You hum in response, and he continues. “You wanna come over after school today? My mom said she wanted to meet you. You don’t have to if you're not ready or comfortable yet though. I was just suggesting” he says it as the words spill out of his mouth faster than you can comprehend.  

You laugh at his cuteness. Thinking over about how meeting his mom would go. It would be lovely if you got to meet the person that made Jungkook the person he is today.  

“Yeah, sure. That’d be great. Just tell me what time and I’ll be there.” you say softly. A wave of relief washes over him. He was worried you’d be too scared to reject him. “Alright” he pauses for a moment. “Okay, I’ll pick you up at six then?” Your lips curl up, delighted to finally meet his family. You nod your head in response and continue with your book. 

Jungkook places his hand over your thigh and looks down at his phone again.  

~  Looking at yourself in the mirror, you fix your hair one last time and touch up your makeup. You wanted to make yourself presentable in front of Jungkook’s mom. It’s not that you were scared of meeting her, you scared of what she might think of you. Straighten out your dress one last time your thoughts are broken by the doorbell ringing.  

When you leave your room you see your mom answer the door. “Oh hi, Jungkook are you here to pick up ___?” Letting him in he walks past her and waits by the door for you. “Yeah, we're going back to my place. We're just gonna eat dinner there.” He explains. “Ah okay, well have fun. I’ll go grab her and tell her you’re here” she says. Before she can move, you emerge from the corner of your room and Jungkook sets his eyes on you. He smiles at you and pulls you in by your waist to hug you. “Hi, baby,” he says, feeling giddy at the thought of you. Telling your mom goodnight and that you’ll be back soon; Jungkook guides you with a hand on your back towards his car. He opens the door for you like the gentleman he is and walks around the car to get into the driver’s seat.  

When you stop at a red light the silence between you two is broken by him. “How are you feeling?” he asks you. To be completely honest you were scared shitless. Afraid of what she might think of you. Afraid that she thinks you’re not enough for her son. Afraid that you’ll give off the wrong impression. Jungkook cuts off your thoughts by placing a kiss on your wrist.  

“Baby?”  

Coming back to reality you giggle softly. “Sorry, um.” You take a moment to collect your thoughts. “To be honest with you. I’m terrified.” You speak about your insecurities. Thinking about meeting his mother. You know you fully agreed to this earlier. But the drive to his house has become surreal to you now.  

“She’ll love you I promise. But no matter what, if she doesn’t like you; know that I love you okay? Never forget that.” Calming your mind down, you nod your head and settle in silence for the rest of the car ride.  

~ 

Jungkook walks around the car again to open your door. You thank him and look at his house. It wasn’t too big, but it wasn’t too small. It was the perfect size. Walking up to the front door, he unlocks it, and your heart picks up once again. You walk through the door and investigate the living room.  

His little brother is sitting on the couch watching TV. His youngest sister was sitting on the floor watching whatever her brother was. Jungkook was the eldest out of the three. His siblings being much younger. You walk into the living room and Jungkook yells out to his siblings. “Guys, turn off the TV for a minute. I want you to meet someone.”  

They both turn to look at you and you smile down at them. “This is my girlfriend, ___. This is Jungwoo and Jungha.” Cute. All of their names start the same way, you think. Jungha walks up to you. She seems to only be around four years-old and Jungwoo looks to be about seven. “It’s nice to meet you both” you softly smile at them.  

Jungha tugs on your sleeve and looks up at you. “Are you a princess?” she asks. Your heart melts at the sweet little voice. “She’s not a princess! She’s not wearing a crown!” Jungwoo exclaims from where he sat. You giggle at them, and then you hear footsteps come up from behind you.  

Turning around you see Jungkook’s mother. You’re a nervous wreck when you first see her face. You politely bow to her and greet her.  

“It’s nice to finally meet you Mrs. Jeon”  

“Oh, honey please stand up.” She motions for you to stand straight 

“No need for formalities, I hope you’re hungry. I made a lot of food tonight!” She smiles at you and walks back to the kitchen.  

Okay, this isn’t going as badly as you thought it’d go. You walk back to the living room with Jungkook to chat some more with his siblings. You sit down on the floor and Jungkook sits behind you on the couch. “So, Jungha. How old are you?” you ask the little girl.  

She looks up from her toys and holds up four fingers in front of your face “I’m four!” Her small voice makes your chest ache from how cute she is. She goes back to her dolls and plays with them again. You turn your attention to Jungwoo and start a conversation with him.  

“What about you Jungwoo?” you ask him. “I turned eight last month” You were only off by a year. This time he asks you a question. “Why are you with my brother? He’s annoying and he never lets me in his room” he pouts with his arms crossed over his chest.  

“Well, I think Jungkook is amazing. You should cut him some slack. I’m sure he’s a great brother!” you tell him. Jungkook leans down and kisses the crown of your head as he looks at the TV. Your arms are laid in your lap and his are wrapped around your neck.  

“Yeah, cut me some slack. I try my best!” he says to his younger brother.  

“I guess” Jungwoo rolls his eyes. You laugh at him and advert your eyes to the youngest one in the room again. She looks up at you and places a doll in your lap. “Will you play with me? You can be the princess!”  

You happily oblige and play with her until dinner is ready.  

~ 

At the table, Jungkook’s mother places the food around it. “Wow, Mrs. Jeon this looks amazing. Thank you so much for having me over” you say to her. She smiles back at her as she puts food on the little ones’ plates. “It’s no problem sweetie. Now please tell me more about yourself! All I hear from Jungkook is ‘my girlfriend is amazing’ and ‘I can’t wait for you to meet her’." She giggles. Hearing this makes your heart swoon. He talks about you like that?  

“Well, um. I’m new to town. My parents and I moved here just this summer.” you say.  

“Oh! How exciting! Where did you move from?”  

“Seoul, my parents wanted to get away from the city and thought it was better to move to some place smaller.” Talking about Seoul makes you miss it. Seoul is the place you grew up in. You didn’t have many friends over there, but you still managed to have some.  

“Well, Yongsan is small, but everyone knows everyone and it’s a great community all around.” She reassures you.  

Thinking back on your school experience you highly doubt that it’s great at all. You only smile at her. As the night goes on, embarrassing childhood stories about Jungkook may have slipped out here and there. Spending your time with them was refreshing. You adored his family. This is something you wished for in the future.  

On the way back to your house the car is silent. You think back to the events of tonight and reminisce.  

“So, how do you feel now?” Jungkook says 

“I feel content with tonight. I love your family. They’re so adorable. I wish I could come over a lot more often.” you say with a small smile on your lips.  

“Well, you can. Come over as much as you want, baby” He looks over at you and you nod. Your smile slightly fading.  

~ 

At the garden, Jungkook told you to meet him there after school. He told you he had a surprise. On your way over you pass by Sooha. Not caring about the way, she looked at you, you make your way over to your lover. He stood over the magnolia tree with a cover over the bench.  

Eyebrows furrowed you walk over to him and hug him. You tilt your head so you’re now looking up at him. He places his soft lips against yours and pulls something out of his bag.  

It’s the cherry blossom pedal that he kept from the day that he took you to go see them. You gasp, looking at what occupied his hand. “What is this?” you question. “It’s a pedal from the cherry blossoms I took you to see.” Those butterflies in your stomach bloom from within once again. You feel like the luckiest girl in the world to have such an amazing boyfriend.  

Jungkook has given you love that you’ve never experienced before. You want to thank whoever sent him to you forever. Grabbing the pedal, you hold it close to your chest. “Thank you honey,” you say under your breath and connect your lips together. Every touch of his lip is like a spark of electricity. You can never get enough of it.  

“I also did something else” He takes a hold of the cloth that was covering. On the bench, there’s a gold tag right in the middle. The engraving read ‘I love you for all eternity –J' you stand there, at a loss for words. He got this done for you? You start to feel tears burn at your waterline. Everyone in the world deserved a Jungkook. Wiping the tears from your eyes you rush into him and wrap your arms around his neck.  

“I can’t believe you did this” you muffle into his chest. He wraps his arms around your waist and digs his face into the crook of your neck.

“Do you like it?” looking down at you.  

“I fucking love it Jeon Jungkook” you laugh and kiss his lips again. This time the kiss lasts longer. Lips moving against each other with so much passion; moving slowly together. You’ve never been happier.  

~ 

Jungkook sat at his desk in his room and his mom walked through his door. “Honey?” She catches his attention. He hums in response.  

“I was cleaning out your room and I found this sitting on your dresser. I swear I wasn’t snooping but I was reading and” she pauses and opens it up. Jungkook wasn’t mad at her. He just sits and sighs as he waits for his mom to read what he wrote down.  

“It says study hard enough to get into college. Okay, reasonable, next one says read the encyclopedia of cherry blossom trees. The last one says, major in Botany? Since when were you into plants and nature?”

Jungkook walks up to her and rips the paper from her hand. “It’s a list I wrote up in the middle of the night the other day. ___ is my inspiration behind it.” He says with a fond smile.  

She’s never seen her son this happy and in love before. It’s truly the sweetest thing she’s ever seen. Such young love between the two. Her son’s happiness makes her a whole lot happier.  

~ 

One day, Jungkook gets a sudden call from you. He hasn’t been with you in the past few days due to you being away for some reason. He never questioned it, not wanting to push you to your limits. Over the phone you tell him that you needed to tell him something.  

You told him to meet you at your spot at around 8:00. It was usually dark by then and he was getting worried about you being there by yourself as you waited for him. When he pulls up next to the parking lot near the garden, he hurriedly makes his way over to you. You were sitting on the bench waiting for your boyfriend to show up.  

“Hey, baby, what’s going on? Are you okay?” he says in a soft voice. He takes your hand in his and pulls you closer to him. Jungkook looks at your face and notices your red puffy eyes. Have you been crying? Getting even more worried, he cups your cheeks, so your head is tilted towards him.  

“Hey, whatever it is we’ll get through it, alright? Please, tell me what the hell is going on” he weeps, Jungkook can feel his hands start to shake. Were you going to break up with him? Were you moving again? All these questions build up in Jungkook’s mind and he can’t stop thinking about the worst. Until it comes. You look down and a tear drops into your lap. The soft sniffles that come from you make his heart sink. He pulls you closer to him and you sob into his shoulders.  

“I should’ve told you this sooner” you say quietly 

“Tell me what, baby? What should you have told me?” He starts to panic. He’s completely clueless of what you’re trying to tell him. 

And then.  

It spills from your mouth.  

“I’m sick” Jungkook’s world stops to a halt.  

“Okay, let’s take you home and you’ll feel better”  

“No, Jungkook.” you pause 

“I’m sick”  

“No, you can’t be sick, y-you're perfect. That’s not possible.”  

You try to contain your tears, but they keep falling.  

“That’s why I haven’t seen you for the past few days. I was at the hospital for my checkup. I have a heart condition and it doesn’t allow my blood to flow correctly and it restricts me from doing a lot of things. I’ve had it since I was ten. This means I’d have to stay home and at the hospital a lot more.”  

Jungkook couldn’t hold it in anymore. He felt mad. He felt mad at the world. This couldn’t be happening 

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” His voice raises an octive 

“Because! This!” you point your hand between the both of you.  

“Because we were doing so good. This was going so well. I didn’t want to tell you because it would ruin things.” You stand up from the bench. And turn your back on him. “I’m sorry” you say under your breath. You run in the direction of your house.  Jungkook doesn’t let his tears loose until he’s back in his car. He feels furious. Not at you but at the situation.  

“Fuck!” He punches his steering wheel and sobs into his hand. He’s never felt so helpless.  

~ 

Jungkook needed time to think about what had just happened in the last few hours. How could you not have told him sooner? He feels guilty for not knowing. He’s made you do so many things not knowing the risk he’s putting you in. He was out on a drive, no location in mind. He continued down the road mindlessly.  

He doesn’t realize where he’s at until he stops the car. He’s in front of the cherry blossom trees. Maybe being here was good for him. There was a store right next to the exhibition. They had everything cherry blossom related. He walks through the entrance of the store and scans around.  

There was a man standing behind the counter. He watches as the young boy walks through his store looking around. “Hey, you” he says. Jungkook turns his head to him and walks to the counter. “Are you looking for something?” Jungkook pauses and looks at the wall behind the man. There were pictures of cherry blossoms all over. He notices a plant behind him. He lifts his finger and points at and asks, “What is that?”. The man turns around and carries the plant to his counter. 

“This is a cherry blossom plant” Without hesitation Jungkook pulls his wallet out and makes an exchange with the man.  

On the way back to Yongsan, you were all that occupied Jungkook’s mind. He was worried like crazy about you. The thought of you sitting in bed not being able to do anything causes an ache in your chest. From now on, he promises that he’ll stay by your side for all eternity. He prays to the gods above to keep you down here with him until you grow old.  

He promises to take care of you until he can’t anymore. 

~ 

You’re sitting in your bed reading a book. The clouds have covered the sky, and the air is a bit cold. All your medication is set next to your bedside table. Jungkook drove all the way to your house after visiting the cherry blossom tree. He stood under the arch of your door and knocked on the door twice.  

You look up from your book and he walks over to you. The sight he sees is making his stomach turn. You don’t deserve to live your life like this. You were still so young. You had your whole life ahead of you. Jungkook sits at the edge of your bed and holds your hand. He brings it up to his lips and kisses the back of it. He leans in to kiss your forehead and then your nose.  

Leaning his forehead against yours he speaks in a quiet tone. “Hi, honey. How are you feeling?” Trying to keep the mood positive you smile at him and say, “I’m doing great how about you?” He knows when you’re lying. But he only laughs and response to your question. “I’m doing good, baby.” he pauses for a moment. “I, um, I bought you something.” You look at him curiously. “What did you get me?”  

You tug the blanket away from your lap and you sit up properly. Jungkook holds your hands and carefully pulls you up. He brings you over to your window that looks out to the garden in your backyard. You see a little plant growing from the soil.  

It was a cherry blossom tree.  

Your heart swells with love as you realize what he has done for you, once again. You turn your body to him to engulf him in a hug. Burying your face into his neck, his scent brings you such comfort. You wish you could keep that scent with you forever. You place your hands over his cheeks and lock your lips with his. “Thank you, for everything. I love you so much.” Pecking his lips again. You’ve never been so full of love in your life.  

~  Today’s weather matched perfectly with today’s events. Your doctor told you it would be best if you got out and took in some fresh air. You spent your time with Jungkook in the garden and talked for hours. He brought you so many snacks and a blanket like he did all those months ago. You sat cuddled in front of him as he rested his back against the bench. His head rested against yours as you spent your time talking about anything.  

Jungkook brings up your list again.  

“Are you ever gonna tell me about number one?” he says into your ear. You giggle as you think about it.  

“Alright, I guess I have to tell you" You playfully roll your eyes. Jungkook pinches your waist and you burst out laughing.  

“Okay! Okay! Do want to know or not!” you say 

“Fine, I’ll stop. So, tell me”  

“The very first thing I put on that list is for something I need to do after.” It becomes silent. Jungkook thinks for a moment, letting your words sink in.  

After? 

There shouldn’t be an after. Life wasn’t fair to you. That’s all Jungkook knew.  

“And what is that baby?” he pulls you closer to his chest. Afraid that you’d disappear if he didn’t hold you tight enough.  

“I want to become a butterfly. I want my wings to grow strong and healthy so I’m free. I want you to look for me. I’ll show you so many signs that I’m with you. Always.” You turn in his arms and place a delicate hand over his heart. Jungkook can’t help the stinging sensation he feels in the back of his eyes. He pulls you in for a soft kiss.  

Lips moving slowly against one another. He can’t imagine his life without you in it. He’s not ready to let you go.  

You entangle your fingers in his slightly curly hair. You kiss the corners of his mouth and then his nose. You look at the tiny mole just under his nose. Cute.  

“You know I love you, right?” you say to him. The tears that fall from his eyes fall to his chin. You reach up and wipe them away. He takes hold of your wrist and kisses your palm. 

You’re going to be alright.  

With him by your side.  

~ 

Jungkook was out in the yard of his house watching his siblings play as his mom was getting dinner ready. He hears a car approach his driveway. It’s Jimin. He stands up from the step to his front door and walks over to his car. Jimin closes the door, and he walks up to Jungkook.  

His little siblings yelling at each other in their own little world. Jimin walks past them and smiles. He looks up at Jungkook and pats him on the back. Jimin and Jungkook were always closer than he and Taehyung. They basically grew up together. “I heard about __, I’m sorry” He looks down at his shoes and places his hands in his pockets “It must’ve been hard hearing that” Jungkook scoffs. Knowing that he has, who knows how much time with you is literally tearing him up inside. “Yeah, I mean I’m trying to spend as much time with her as I can, you know. Being without her right now is just killing me,” he says in a low voice.  

“Look, she’s going to get better. Stop thinking about the worst, just enjoy what you have right now, and don’t think about what could happen or what could’ve been. She needs you right now and you need to be strong for her. She’d trying her best for you.” he says softly. Jimin was always that friend you could go to for anything. He was one of Jungkook’s comfort people.  

“You’re right. Yeah, sorry. This is just so much information for me to take in. I can’t lose her, man” With a heavy heart Jungkook tries his hardest to not break down. Especially in front of his siblings. They’ve grown attached to you after you’ve visited them so many times.  

They’re always asking for you or wondering how you’re doing. It’s the sweetest thing. Jimin ended up staying for dinner. He hadn’t been over since the fight with Taehyung. He’s just glad that he has his best friend back.  

~ 

Jungkook’s never been this worried in his life. He’s called you multiple times and has sent over a hundred texts in the last hour. You haven’t responded to him at all. He decided to make the drive to your house to see what was going on. When he got there, he could’ve sworn his heart stopped beating; there were ambulence trucks parked outside of your house. He rushed over to investigate what was going on.  

He saw your father sitting on the doorstep of the house, with his head in his hands, hanging low.  

“Jungkook” he says  

“What happened? Where is she? In a panicked voice Jungkook walks into your house and looks for you. You’re nowhere to be seen.  

“They took her to the hospital. She was outside watering the plants and she collapsed. They said her heart is in critical condition.” Jungkook storms out of the house and speeds his way to the hospital. No way in hell is he letting you stay by yourself right now.  

He speeds through traffic lights, not caring if he gets caught. He needs to see you, now.  

~  He pushes through people to get to the front desk. “Excuse me do you have ___ ___ here. She was admitted not too long ago” he frantically asks the lady. She types into her computer and searches for your name.  

“Yes, we do. She’s in room seven.”  

“Thank you”  

Slowing down his pace he scans through the different doors. Being here makes his stomach sick. You’re supposed to be in bed at home. With him. Not in a hospital with sick patients all over the place.  

When he finally finds your room, he looks through the small window of the door. Your eyes are closed. He walks through the door, slowly as he approaches your bed. Your skin is pale, and they have you hooked to an oxygen tank. Jungkook makes his way to the side of your bed, and he breaks down sobbing. His hands shake as he takes your hand into his. Your skin is cold. Not like how he’s used to; he brings it to his lips and tries to warm them up with his breath.  

The motion wakes you up. You crack your eyes open slowly and meet Jungkook’s gaze. You place your hands on top of Jungkook’s hair, comforting him. His eyes are puffy from how much he’s crying. He cried on the way to the hospital just thinking about your condition.  

“Hi, honey” your voice comes out week. You slightly furrow your eyebrows as you take in his features.  

“Why are you crying?” Your hand making its way down to his cheek to wipe away his tears. He laughs quietly and looks down at the bed.  

“I’m glad you’re doing okay. I should’ve brought you something, but I was in a hurry. I was so worried about you I wasn’t thinking properly.” he says with guilt laced in his voice. He should’ve been there with you.  

“Baby, stop beating yourself up, there’s nothing you could’ve done to prevent me from ending up in here. I’m okay. See?” you make silly moves, and this gets him to smile even bigger. He leans over to kiss your forehead.  

“Don’t scare me like that again, okay?”  

“I promise”  

~ 

Jungkook came to visit you every day. They still told you they needed to run some more tests on you to monitor your condition. Until then you were stuck in the small hospital bed. Jungkook would stop by before and after school until it became late into the night. He brought you snacks, plushies, some of your clothes, and stories that happened to him at school or about Jungha and Jungwoo.  

You missed them so much. You haven’t seen them in weeks and Jungkook tells you that they keep asking for you. He also told you they prayed that you would soon get better so you could play with them again. The thought makes your heart melt.  

Jungkook has never left your side since the day you got admitted. He waits day and night for you to come back home to him.  

The TV was playing as you read your book (that Jungkook brought you) and he sits in the chair next to you as he’s on a call with his siblings. His hand is placed over your thigh, and he rubs back and forth gently.  

“I wanna say hi to __” you here Jungha’s voice. You peek your head from the corner of the screen, and she screams loudly out of joy.  

“Hi Jungha” you say softly with a smile spread across your face. She lets go of the phone and all you see is the ceiling. In the background you can hear her running around giggling. Her little face appears on the screen again and she yells “Hi __! I miss you sooooo much. Please come back soon!”  

With a fond smile you look at her and say “I’ll try very hard to come back healthy for you sweetie. Make sure you listen to your mom and Jungkook while I’m away” you tell her.  

“I always do! I’m a big girl!”  

You laugh at her silly antics. Saying goodbye to her Jungkook hangs up the phone and looks at you. You return to your book and feel Jungkook’s stare on the side of your face.  

Laughing, you look at him with confusion on your face.  

“What?” you say softly.  

He takes several minutes before he speaks.  

“Marry me” 

This takes you completely off guard. He wants you to marry him? There’s a warmth that spreads across your chest as you try to comprehend what just came out of his mouth.  

“What?” it comes out as a whisper.  

“Marry me __” he says in all seriousness. He’s never been so sure of something until he met you. You were his everything. He wanted to spend his life with you.  

A small smile appears on your lips.  

“Okay” His heartbeat picks up at your answer. He’s never loved someone as much as he loved you. He had already asked for your parents' blessing, and they surprisingly agreed.  

He was finally able to spend the rest of forever with you.  

~  They finally discharged you for one day. Having to beg and beg for them to let you out, they finally gave in.  

Today was a cool spring day. The flowers are starting to bloom wildly, and the trees finally have their color back after the winter season. You and Jungkook planned everything over the course of two weeks. You wanted to have something small. The place you both chose was a little greenhouse chapel not too far from where you lived.  

Your mother helped with your makeup and hair. The dress you wore was hers. It was an off the shoulder plain dress. You didn’t want anything too fancy, but nothing too little. It was perfect.  

As you wait to walk down the aisle you see everyone sitting in their seats. Mrs. Kim was sitting with her husband near the front where the altar was. Jimin was sitting with Jungha and Junwoo with their mother. Your father had his armed hooked with yours as he waited to walk you down the aisle. The bouquet of flowers clads in your hand you hear the music begin to play. The song ’Try Again’ starts to play in a ballad.  

At the end of the aisle, you see Jungkook. His hair is long enough to touch his eyebrows and his hands are crossed over his front. He can hear his heartbeat in his ears as he sees you standing there. You looked gorgeous in your dress. Walking down the aisle you see Jungha and Junwoo peek behind the chairs as they see you. Jungha has a huge smile on her face as she finally gets to see you.  

You smile at both of them and turn your head back to your lover. Your dad places your hand into Jungkook’s and returns to his seat next to your mother. Jungkook had tears building up behind his eyes. He can’t believe he’s marrying the love of his life today.  

“You may now be seated as we begin the ceremony of these two” everybody takes their seats, and the room becomes quiet.  

“Now, let’s begin.” He clears his throat.  

You look over to Jungkook and he mouths the words ‘I love you’ and you mouth them back.  

“Do you Jungkook take ___ to be your wife?”  

“I do”  

“And do you ___ take Jungkook to be your husband.”  

“May I have the rings please” Jungwoo emerges from his seat and walks up to the two of you. The pastor bends down slightly to take them from his hand. “Thank you” he smiles at him.  

He cutely runs back to his seat and places his hands in his lap.  

“Repeat after me Jungkook. I Jungkook” 

“I Jungkook”  

“Take you ___, to be my wife” 

He repeats after him. He says the same thing to you. He gives each of you your rings and tells you to place them on one another’s finger.  

“I know pronounce you husband and wife; you may now kiss the bride”  

Jungkook pulls you in by your waist and kisses you deeply. You feel a smile spread across your face as you kiss your husband.  

This was the happiest day of your life.  

3 years later  

Jungkook was sitting under the magnolia tree you used to meet up at. He had a piece of paper and a pen in his hand.  He spent most of his days here thinking. His favorite time of the day is when he gets to spend his time at your spot talking to you. The pen hits the piece of paper he holds in his hand and he begins to write

My baby,  

It’s been a long year once again without you by my side. There's not a day that goes by that I don't think about you. You're always on my mind, I’ve started classes and learned a lot of new things about flowers and nature. Now I see why you loved them so much. The tree outside of your house has grown a lot more. The pretty white leaves you loved so much are starting to show. I hope you're doing well. I miss you. I miss you so much it hurts. I wish every day that you would come back to me. I miss hearing your laugh, I miss your smile, I miss your beautiful face that lights any room you walk into, and most of all I miss hearing your beating heart next to mine

Jungha started school recently. She said that she would make you a painting whenever she felt sad, and I’d put it them next to my desk. I have a drawer full of them now. I told her that you would come in at night to check up on us and you’d plant kisses so light that she doesn’t feel them when she’s sleeping. She asks and talks about you a lot every day. Sometimes I run out of things to say to her. and just tell her that you’ll be back with us one day. But i can’t lie to her. I think she misses you as much as I do Jungwoo’s doing pretty well too. We’ve gotten closer these past few years. He misses you a whole lot too. We all do. Everyone is doing well; I hope you’re resting well now. Sometimes I dream that you're next to me. Telling me that everything is going to be okay.  

And I think it will be. Everything will be okay as long as you’re close to me.  

I love you, baby.  

Jungkook looks up and sees a beautiful bright blue butterfly land on top of the paper. It flies away and a smile spreads across his face 

Everything will be okay 

~

a/n: AHHH IM CRYING. gosh writing this was such a rollercoaster. the fluff was too much for me to handle 😣. i hope you guys enjoyed this one. this was my favorite to write bc it’s after my favorite movie!! i hope i didn’t make yall cry 😭. ughhh i love their story so much.

[carpkoinobori]

[⟢] cop car — karina x reader

[𖤐] 1/1 [please be aware this is all fiction! none of this is real and idols behavior is not accurately represented.]

song(s): cop car - mitski | no te pido mas - helenita vargas | de oro - la familia andre | la murga - willie colón | la cuchilla - las hermanas calle

summary: you grew up desperate and made your way to the top, even started working for DAS. but your first assignment shouldn’t have been this— they sent you to die. your body lived, though. you didnt.

pairing: patrón!karina x halcón!reader (also x teniente!giselle)

tags: angst, like horrible angst, toxic and I mean Very Toxic yuri, major character death, implied sexual content, this is DARK, set in 1970-90’s colombia, kind of ambiguous but happy ending? reader is lowk stupid and a bop

wc: 10.9k

cw: karina is horribly manipulative, cartels, guns, selling, making, and use of drugs, use of weapons, murder, bombs, death, etc. this is about the colombian cartel ok shit is fucked.

ex: before there’s any outrage I AM COLOMBIAN. all information is acquired through primary sources (ex: family who literally lived through it). most info will be accurate, but my family specifically lived in medellín, calí, and barranquilla. this is set in bogotá. apologies for any city-based in accuracies.

a/n: this is for you aettudae my #1 ❤️

1964, Cundinamarca, Colombia Local time: 1:00 A.M. Location: a small town in Soacha, Cundinamarca, Colombia Objective: . . .

You were born on the outskirts of the city. Bogotá, the capital— the inside was rich, used to be filled with tourists, big buildings and fancy cars. The outside was él pueblo, where you’d wake up at three in the morning, walk to the nearest bus stop, which was probably a few kilometers away, take the buses that never ran on time with the rest of the exhausted men and women heading to work— work for rich people that ran the city till nightfall, get on another bus, and walk a few kilometers home, every day, constantly, while getting paid barely enough to support your family.

That was if you didn’t get robbed, or blown up in the middle of the city, of course— political unrest stemming from La Violencia had made FARC, and the cartel had begun to ramp up production and organization, planting car bombs under public buses and cars. The country was rife with bombings and gang violence till the late 90’s.

But right now, it was in the very early morning.

You would be born in 1964 to a poor family living in Soacha, Cundinamarca, Colombia, right on the outskirts of Bogotá. Your mother would be killed in 1970. Your father would be killed en la cantina, at night, in 1972.

You had been working since 12, anyway. Being told of your pathetic father’s death by a police officer who clearly did not care was when it was decided— you would not die in this town. You would make a name for yourself.

You were right, of course. You did make a name for yourself— you took down one of the most prominent cartel leaders in the country.

Or, at least, that’s what the media thought.

LA VERDAD DE LO QUE PASÓ EN 1989. —————————————————————— THE TRUTH OF WHAT HAPPENED IN 1989.

1985, Bogotá, Colombia Local time: 2:00 P.M. Location: Departamento Administrativo de Seguridad | Administrative Department of Security (DAS) HQ Objective: Enter the meeting

You made it into DAS at 21.

Really, it was probably just because the high-rank workers felt bad for you. They understood— a girl from the outer part near Bogotá, no parents— you just wanted to make the country better for people like you.

You were given small jobs like paperwork and editing documents, until now. They were calling you in for your first meeting. Despite your usually serious nature, you couldn’t help a bubble of excitement. You’d finally be able to help like you’d always wanted.

which is why it was confusing why everyone was so somber when you walked in.

“Good morning,” you greeted, taking a seat.

“Good morning, y/n,” replied the woman who headed the ground-team. All your coworkers around her looked solemn, and you stared at them all puzzled.

“Your first assignment will be to infiltrate a specific branch of the Bogotá cartel— we fear they might be working with either FARC or plan to merge with another faction, and they’re already quite dangerous as it is— we don’t need more of them,”

the room was silent. You knew what this was— your first year on the job with barely any training. They were sending you to die, just to get some information.

You sat up straight, squaring your shoulders. You would get the information to help your people. You would live.

“I understand,” you replied, with a nod, standing to collect your file.

The woman handing it to you leaned in, a pained look in her eyes “Perdón,”

1985, Bogotá, Colombia Local time: 10:54 P.M. Location: Una cantina Objective: Scout an in to the “organization”

The woman in charge of the specific section of the widespread cartel that was causing so much destruction frequented a specific bar. You had been given her file— she was beautiful, with dark hair and pale skin, but she didn’t seem to be colombian. It didn’t really matter, to you— you weren’t here to ask her why she’d made these choices— you needed to infiltrate one of the largest cartels in Bogotá, on your first job.

you sighed, your head in your hands, the bartender giving you a cursory glance. The place was seedy, filled with alcoholics and sex-workers, as well as probable cartel members, which is why you were here.

You sat up, looking around. It was said Karina frequented this bar. You prayed she’d show up, making the sign of the cross.

God delivered— she walked in, with two other people you didn’t quite recognize— one had dark hair, as well, with big eyes, although her face was serious. The other was lithe, thin— her hair was shorter, and lighter in color, more similar to a brown.

You knew what you’d have to do to start getting information. It made you feel a little sick— a part of you, though, was grateful Karina was so beautiful. Her smile was cocky and smug, like that of someone who knew she was untouchable. She made conversation with her two accompanies, talking and laughing and drinking. You waited for an hour or so, so that she was now most definitely more than tipsy.

you walked over, wearing a short, tight black dress that let you fit the bill of another profession, looking at her through half lidded eyes.

another thing about the cartel. if they wanted a girl, they’d have her. The club was a dangerous place, the bar was a dangerous place— you’d seen a man get shot at a hamburger cart. The cartel was ruining the country.

you pushed down your sudden wave of resentment, focused on flirting with Karina. Her friend, the long haired girl, stared at you for a long time, scrutinizing. You wouldn’t know what that meant, for a while.

Karina grinned, tilting her head. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“I don’t see why not,” you smiled, voice practiced to be smooth and flirty. You didn’t drink, usually, but you needed the courage.

She handed you a shot of aguardiente. It was dry and burned your throat, but it was good. You made conversation. “What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” You smiled, putting a hand on her arm. “Seems a bit.. dirty,”

Karina smiled, predatorily, teeth glinting in the low yellowed light. “Just trying to relax. You don’t seem like the type of girl to frequent this place. Why are you here?” She asked back.

“Oh, just.. trying to have a little fun,” you replied, lowly, voice ghosting over her ear. She seemed to like that answer.

“Yeah? Why don’t you come home with me, then?”

Your smile widened, although your eyes with still half lidded, touches fleeting. You still played your part.

“I will,”

you ended up going home with Karina. It took months to get her to trust you, but you had finally managed to get her to let you start working. All it took was a sob-story, a fake name, and she allowed you to work in her jurisdiction.

and so began the first objective: names. You needed names.

1985, Bogotá, Colombia Local time: 4:33 P.M. Location: currently, a safehouse for the cartel Objective: Find the key members of the cartel

Karina had a home, of course, a large one— you had seen parts of the inside many a time. Of course, they also had some warehouses where they kept goods, where some of the members could crash for a night. You usually stayed with Karina, following her orders.

Some of the members used fake names. You had managed to catch onto one— Ning Yizhou, or NingNing. It was kind of stupid to put part of your real name in your fake name, but plenty of members didn’t use false names at all. You supposed it was just because they didn’t have much to hide.

The name was quietly recorded into your notebook— in code, of course, specifically pigpen-cipher, although you mixed it in with a few different things, referencing dice code as well to make it more confusing— the members of the organization sometimes forgot to call out their chosen names for each other, slipping up. You didn’t mind, though, it made your life easier.

The group had a whole network across Bogotá, planning to move into Medellín, which you felt was not a good idea, but had said nothing.

at one point, Karina brought you all out to eat at a very nice restaurant. You had become a favorite of sorts, for her. She didn’t suspect a thing, thank god.

They began to make small talk, conversations imbued with remarks about the ‘business’, people causing problems, supply and demand, and those annoying Americans.

the waiter came, and everyone quieted.

”Una cerveza, porfa,” Karina was first.

“Dame un refresco, por favor,” Giselle.

You felt something.. off. Obviously, Giselle wasn’t colombian. None of these four women were. But they all learned Spanish here. None of them really spoke Spanish beforehand. Giselle was speaking very.. correctly. Or, at-least, not using slang from colombia. Had she learned Spanish in Mexico? Castellano? Was she part of another gang?

you hadn’t noticed it was your turn to order with all the thoughts running through your mind. You looked at the waiter, glancing at Giselle.

“Si me haces el favor, una gaseosa,”

Giselle didn’t seem fazed by it. but something was off about her. Something was very, very off.

“Karina,” you called, walking into her office. She seemed to be writing something down. Most likely something about funds or money. She did have people in the banks to clean her money for her, but she didn’t like others running her finances. Too much of a chance for embezzlement. A part of you liked she was smart with her business.

“Winter told me you called for me?” You murmured, leaning against the side of her desk, tilting your head, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“Ah, yes,” she affirmed, turning in her chair to you. “I have a job I need you to complete. You’ll be going with Winter,” she informed. “It’s nothing that difficult. You’ll both be going on some runs. It’ll just be delivering a few.. products, to a contact. It’ll be a long drive, maybe a few hours. She’ll come get you at four in the morning, exactly,”

Your face stayed carefully blank, but you plastered a content smile onto it. “Of course, I’m glad to be of any help. Speaking of help, Karina, you seem a little stressed..” you smiled wider, voice imbued with a sultry tone.

Karina was honestly a bit foolish. Smart with money, bad with people. Perfect for you.

She still suspected nothing, you thought, as she kissed you, hungrily.

the night ended with her paperwork left unfinished, and you asleep in her bed.

Winter was probably not going to be happy.

Winter was waiting outside the room for you, arms crossed and leaning on the wall. You had dressed into something casual— just jeans and a shirt. You glanced over at her with a blank expression. “What do we need to deliver?”

She seemed to be thinking, before pushing off the wall, and beginning to walk. You followed.

“Guerrilla wants some weapons. We’re just there to deliver,” she muttered, cigarette hanging half out of her mouth, unlit. You made your way to the car, getting in the passenger, the supplies in the back. “It’ll be a long drive up the mountain. Let’s try not to get stopped, yeah?” She muttered, starting the ignition.

You drove in silence, for a bit. The humidity of the air was starting to get to you. You hated the heat.

Winter didn’t talk to you, much. You didn’t think she liked you. You were pretty sure it was because she believed you weren’t worthy to be in the gang— you were just Karina’s plaything.

you didn’t really care what she thought, though. You had a job to do.

after a few hours, you had made it sufficiently up the mountain to the trade-off point. You stepped out of the car.

It was still foggy, from the rain and the altitude. You almost felt a bit lightheaded— but it was nothing you couldn’t handle. The plants and mosquitos were certainly bothersome, but you said nothing. Helping Winter lug up all the weapons was definitely hard— you weren’t very strong. Winter stared at you in annoyance, mumbling curses, most likely about you, under her breath.

the trade off was successful, but then, yet again, you had to make your way down the mountain with duffel bags of money. It was heavy. Putting it away in the trunk was simple enough. You collapsed back into the passenger, wiping the sweat from your forehead. You felt gross.

“Why was that so heavy?” You muttered, under your breath. Winter closed the door of the driver’s side.

“It’s not that heavy, you’re just weak,” she spat, annoyed. “You made us take an extra half hour. You’re not efficient,” she continued.

“It’s hardly my fault, Winter! This was my first job, I don’t-”

“I don’t know why Karina thought it’d be a good idea to let you help, you’re absolutely shit at it,” she retorted, acidly. “The only thing you’re good at is being her whore,” she cursed, as a snide closing remark.

You turned to her as she drove. You may be making sacrifices to get information, but Winter had no idea what you were working towards. It was an insult to your pride. Yet, you couldn’t think of a retort.

“I’ll work harder,” you muttered. “I want to be useful,”

she scoffed, but at least you said you’d try. She still didn’t like you, though. “Face it, sweetheart,” she began. “You’re not cut out for this life,”

When you arrived back to the warehouse, Ningning spotted Winter before you. You were taking some of the bags out, but could still here from the inside.

“Kim Minjeong! What took you so long?” She chided.

Winter rolled her eyes with a scoff. “Quiet down, Ning. Karina’s toy isn’t supposed to know our names until she proves herself. And anyway, she’s nearly useless. She’s the reason I took longer,”

you obviously pretended not to hear as you hauled money bags inside.

Two names down. Two to go.

Giselle and Karina were two harder to find out then the other two. You were sure with enough time, Karina would tell you her real name. She seemed on the verge of it, anyway, with how much she wanted to hear it fall from your lips.

Giselle, though.. you had no contact with her. She was always off, managing distribution or making sure people stayed in line. You never saw her around much.

but slowly, you began to become part of the group. You mostly helped on small runs, with either Winter or Ning. Ning didn’t really care what name you called her, writing it off as semantics that didn’t matter. Winter, of course, took herself very seriously, so you continued to have to address her formally. She was such a pain, but honestly, you didn’t mind much.

what you had to focus on now, most of all, was getting Karina to trust you.

that came in the form of another run. Although this time, it went so, so wrong.

You were meant to drop off a shipment near Medellín. You didn’t think anything would happen, really— the mountains were a bit far out from Bogotá, and it was closer to the border anyway.

You had been given a gun. It was handed to you by Ning a few weeks prior, under the orders of Karina. You knew how to use one, and no one asked why.

the drive there was mostly silent. Winter still wasn’t very warm to you, yet, she didn’t hate you. You had begun to earn your place, and she respected the effort, if anything.

You drove, and the closer you got to the warehouse, the more dread washed into your bones. “Winter,” you called, under your breath. “I think we’re being watched,”

“We’ve been down this route a million times, y/n. We’re fine, no one would-”

a gunshot rang out through the silence.

It missed Winter by a centimeter, hitting the windshield. You cursed the fact these jeeps didn’t have roofs or side-door windows. Minjeong sped up, of course— if she braked they’d fire again. It was all a blur, from there. You got out of the car, your back against the corrugated metal of the drop off point’s doors. You stared around you, pointing at an old building. “There, Winter- it’s a-”

“Snipers,” she finished, eyes wide with panic. “Hijueputa! I fucking knew we should’ve stayed away from Medellín-”

“No fucking time for that, Winter, get down-”

bullets cut through the air. You dragged Winter behind the Jeep’s metal body, looking over it and shooting wherever the bullets rained from.

there was maybe three people, four, even. Winter focused on the right, you focused on the left. You only had a pistol on you, but luckily you had enough rounds. You aimed straight at one man’s head— it was a straight shot, and you saw the blood spew out from his forehead. It was a mess of blood and bits of brain as far as you could see, his body slumping over the sandbags where he was hiding. They turned red, quickly.

You peeked over the jeep, again, about to shoot the second man on the left when—

a sharp pain was felt in your right shoulder. The force of it sent you nearly falling back, but you caught yourself. You looked straight ahead.

the sniper.

You were panicking and filled with adrenaline— you set the gun on the other man, watching him rise slowly, and—

straight into the neck, blood rushed out of the wound, and you heard a disgusting gargling noise. Blood, in some areas, was highly pressurized— it would shoot out like a fountain.

Winter had managed to shoot the sniper, finally, which was a miracle considering the distance. Right now, you didn’t care about the logistics of how, all you knew was that this was a trap. More people were coming. “Winter, we have to go,” you demanded, looking over at her.

She was bleeding from her thigh and side. Fucking hell.

you shoved her into the passenger seat, ignoring the warmth you could feel trickling down your shoulder, the way it hurt to move your arm. You started the car, and drove straight out of there. You drove as fast as you could, making it back in just around two hours and a half. You had tied your jacket around Winter’s leg, and her own around her side, the other girl groaning in pain throughout the ride. “Ya, Winter, cállate!” You spat, stressed and frazzled. “You’re gonna be fine, you’re gonna be okay-” you continued, clenching your jaw to not scream from the burning in your shoulder.

When you made it back, you stumbled out of the car, glass shards all over the hood, opening the doors. “Ning,” you called, knowing she’d always be near, most likely cleaning some blood after an interrogation or packing some coke. “Ning, it was a trap- help, please, Winter got shot,” you continued, calling out desperately. Ning appeared a few seconds after, eyes wide, rushing to the car. She helped Winter inside, laying her on the couch. She had lost a bit of blood, but the bullet hadn’t hit a major artery. You knew the bullet shouldn’t have hit her heart, either. Ning looked at you, seriously. “Go get Karina. And Giselle,”

you did as told.

you rushed to Karina’s office, the older woman looking at you with a bored expression, gaze lingering on your shoulder.

She didn’t ask any questions, just raised an eyebrow. “It was a trap,” you replied, panting, ignoring your own bleeding shoulder. “Winter.. she needs- she needs a hospital,”

Karina looked unsurprised. “Oh, yes,” she replied, holding your gaze. “How unfortunate of an event,”

Her words were.. slow. Almost mocking or sarcastic— you didn’t have time to decipher what they meant. She brushed past you, making her way to Winter, calmly

“Ning, how bad is it?” She questioned, leaning over the other girl’s body. There was no hint of worry or concern on her face, just curiosity.

“Not fatal, but serious. It didn’t hit the femoral artery, but I suspect it either fracture or grazed her femur. For the side wound, I don’t think it hit anything major, maybe a rib, but no organs. Even so, she needs medical attention now, Karina— speaking of, where is Giselle?” She continued, exasperated and stressed.

“She should be on her way. She was coming back from a job, already. She should be here soon,” was Karina’s nonchalant reply.

you decided that she couldn’t really be waited on, and Karina was clearly unhelpful.

“Do you guys have an operating table? You know what— get me a table. Just get me a table,” you demanded, reaching for some surgical gloves.

They laid Winter on the table, turning on all the lights. You positioned a lamp right over her, and stared at the bullet wounds.

there were only 2. You could do this, you had been taught first aid. This couldn’t be that hard.

You began to clean the wounds with running alcohol and cotton balls, trying to wipe away the blood that wouldn’t stop, and clean the wounds. You had grabbed a pair of tweezers, planning on just yanking out the bullet yourself when Giselle slammed the doors open, staring at the scene in shock.

“What the fuck are you all doing?” She shrieked, rushing over and moving you away. “Do you have any surgical training at all? You could kill her!” She exclaimed.

“Well, you weren’t exactly coming very quickly,” you retorted, now insulted. “I’m sure it’s not that hard to remove a bullet, just take it out-”

“Are you an idiot?” She exclaimed, shocked. “Get out of the way, this is why I’m here. I’ll deal with this,”

she pushed you away, putting on her own pair of blue surgical gloves, and a mask. She moved the lamp to the wound on Winter’s chest, inspecting it. She took hold of the tweezers, cleaning the wound once again with an alcohol wipe— but there was no time for painkillers. She extracted the bullet carefully, holding Winter down so she wouldn’t squirm and hurt herself, followed by her stitching up the wound. It took around twenty minutes for the bullet hole to be stitched up.

she repeated the same process with the second, before cleaning the wounds, again, and beginning to wrap them with gauze. Winter looked pale, and in pain, but she tried to show no sign of it on her face. Once Giselle finished with her, she turned over to you.

“Sit,” she instructed, voice flat and providing no room for judgement.

Karina had shrugged, disappearing back to her office, while Ning had left to go help Winter, leaving you alone with Giselle. She removed your shirt, unclipping your bra with practiced ease, and inspecting the wound. It had started to really hurt, now, the adrenaline having worn off.

“Don’t you have painkillers?” You asked, petulantly.

“No,” she muttered back. “You can handle it. You’re part of a gang, now, there’s going to be pain,” she reminded, harshly.

She cleaned the wound with alcohol, a hiss leaving your mouth at the sting. Your breath hitched when the tweezers made their way into the wound on your shoulder, clenching your jaw in pain. Giselle looked at you, coldly. “Don’t scream,” were her final words before she removed the bullet, cleanly, in one piece.

you gasped in pain, breathing heavily as the wound began to bleed again. Giselle held your other shoulder, keeping you in place as she sewed it shut, cleaning it again, and wrapping it with gauze. “Fuck,” you hissed, wincing at the sting of alcohol.

“Stop squirming,” she growled, and it made you sit still, albeit breathing hard and cursing under your breath. She handed you two pills— painkillers— and a glass of water, after the fact.

“Don’t take baths, you’ll reopen the wound, make sure to shower. Someone will have to help you redress the wound and make sure it doesn’t get infected. Karina isn’t good with wounds, and Ning will handle Winter. I’ll keep an eye on you myself,” she muttered, and it felt more like a threat than anything.

you took the pills, drinking the water to wash them down.

you glanced over to her.

“What are you, a doctor?” You asked, curious albeit a bit sarcastic.

“Yes, technically, I am,” she responded back, flatly. “Worked in el campo for my residency, saw the Guerrilla, saw the way people were living— got into this business, just as it started. That’s all,” she finished, succinctly.

you felt like the story was too practiced. Too simple. You began to suspect that something was off with Giselle— something most definitely was. The way she was never with the rest of the group, her detachment, her strange accent— she was suspicious, and it occurred to you that if you could reveal whatever it was, you’d secure yourself a spot in the gang and officially cement your place, as well as weakening the structure and trust of the organization. It was perfect. This was a great chance, an amazing opportunity. You were sure to take it.

That is, of course, if everything went according to plan.

(It never did)

You couldn’t shake the feeling that Karina had something to do with this. She seemed so dismissive, so.. unimpressed. What was it? Why was she so cold?

You sat at the edge of Winter’s bed, the other girl listening to your ramblings and theories half-heartedly, dazed. Ning was leaning against the wall, the both of you speaking lowly, so as to not be heard.

“She was testing you,” Ningning informed, after mulling on it for a bit.

“What?” You blinked, the words like a shock to your system. “She sent one of her men— along with the newest recruit— into a trap, with only two pistols against a sniper and three other men, all to test.. no, why would she do that? She wouldn’t endanger her own members,” you dismissed, shaking your head.

“She would,” Ning informed, flatly. “Karina’s our boss, yes, we respect her. But she didn’t get to where she is by playing nice,” she reminded. “Karina will do whatever she has to do to ensure her business, first and foremost. That is what is the most important to her. Plus, the government has been far too close to us, lately,” Ning scoffed, shaking her head with her arms crossed. “She’s probably become more careful— which isn’t good if you’re new. You’re probably in for it,” The dark haired girl guessed, meeting your gaze. “I wouldn’t be surprised if we got dragged into it, too. We’re disposable. Just pawns in this game,” she continued, pushing off the wall and reaching the door, hand resting on the handle. “But I hope you make it out,” she added. “You’ve been helpful,” was her final compliment, before she exited.

You stared at your hands. You had thought— genuinely— that Karina was kind, maybe misunderstood. You really thought you were smarter than her.

you now realized that Karina was extremely intelligent. She didn’t care what sacrifices had to be made— she’d protect what was hers, what she’d built. Worst of all, she might even know you were an informant already, she might just be playing with you.

you had walked right into the lion’s den, without even knowing. All the while, you thought you were one step ahead, that you were in control.

your head fell to your hands, a choked sob leaving your body.

you were going to die here.

Every single one of you was going to die here.

1985, Bogotá, Colombia Local time: 6:25 P.M. Location: currently, a safehouse for the cartel Objective: Find the key members of the cartel

it had been a week since the incident. Winter had given you her real name— Kim Minjeong. Why? She said you had earned it, after saving her life.

Things had been tense, to say the least. Ning was considerably angry with Karina, which the older girl did not like. Giselle had been speaking to Karina more often, yet, she was also out the same amount of time.

Minjeong had told you that there had been talk of working more closely with the guerrilla, and that information worried you. The guerrilla was already enough trouble on its own— with the resources from the cartel, it’d be a horrible force for the government.

It was early November, already, and Giselle had seemed beyond tense, pacing whenever you caught a glimpse of her in her room, always thinking to herself, it seemed.

she was changing your bandages, now, a distant look on her face. The movements were practiced, almost like she was working on autopilot.

“Hey,” you called. “Giselle,”

“What?” She responded, flatly. “What is it?”

“Why do you seem so mad lately?” Was your question. She kept a blank, annoyed look on her face. She continued to clean your wound, but eventually responded. “Nothing. Just some negotiations that have been going in circles for days, now. Don’t worry about it,” she dismissed, stepping back once she had finished, moving to get some gauze.

“Really?” You hummed. “Anything to do with the guerrilla?”

Giselle stared, clenching her jaw. She began to bandage you, but spoke lowly. “Don’t talk about them. You have no idea what they’re like. You shouldn’t know any of this, anyway. I’m sure Karina wouldn’t like that,” she added, dangerously.

After the events that transpired on your last run, you had grown wary of Karina. You tried not to make it obvious, but everyone could tell, and the girl delighted in it. She loved the power and control, of course. Her smile was unsettling.

you quieted, after that comment. Giselle finished bandaging you, stepping away. “Stay out of things that don’t concern you,” she advised, but took a second to add something on. “Don’t worry too much. I don’t think she’ll kill you,” Giselle paused, a smile blooming on her face, “Yet,” she added, walking out.

Not very comforting in the slightest, but you should figure out what you could while you were here. You sighed, laying back on the bed.

Giselle was definitely lying about something— you just needed to find out what.

The guerrilla had led a siege on el Palacio de Justicia. It lasted two days, with many deaths. You saw the current news on it, even contacted your people in DAS about it— they had strictly warned you not to unless information was found, but those were your people. They could’ve died.

Giselle watched the news over your shoulder, or listened to it while she fixed your bandages. Minjeong had been getting better, too, her leg much better. Ning watched as well, her arms crossed.

Karina didn’t comment on it. Almost like she knew it would happen.

a suspicious amount of money was given to the guerilla by Karina a few weeks prior. You felt a shudder run through you, which Giselle responded to with a bark of “Stop squirming”.

later, Karina called you into her office.

“Y/n,” she smiled, tilting her head. “You seem.. on edge. May I ask why?” She was being overly formal, and it unsettled you.

“Ever since the attack, I keep feeling like it’ll happen again,” you began, rambling— it wasn’t a lie, per se, but it wasn’t the whole truth. The fear in your eyes and shakiness of your movement confirmed that, at least, it was partially true. “Im scared, that they’ll come here, and kill us. I don’t know what to do,”

Karina’s smile stayed in place, as she ushered you to sit down on the couch, there. “Don’t worry, corazón,” she assured, a hand running through your hair. You began to relax— maybe she wasn’t so scary, after all— It was understandable, maybe it wasn’t actually a test, maybe-

“As long as you’re loyal, nothing bad will happen to you,” she continued, hand tightening in your hair. “If you were to sell us out, then, you understand. I couldn’t promise your protection,” her hand strengthening its grip on your hair, speaking into your ear.

“Now, why don’t we get your mind off it?” She offered, looking into your eyes with a faux-sweet expression.

you complied, obviously. Despite the fear, there was a part of you that was drawn to her. She was threatening to kill you if you betrayed her, yet, you still kissed her, desperately.

she kissed back, of course, hungrily and heatedly.

That’s how most of the both of your talks ended, anyway.

1986, Bogotá, Colombia Local time: 12:01 AM Location: una discoteca Objective: Find the key members of the cartel

It was 1986, now— had just turned into the new year. You were at a club, celebrating another year alive.

You had no idea where the other three girls went, thoroughly tipsy and entranced with Karina.

Karina was a bad person, you knew this. She was ruthless, and you should be scared of her.

but right now, with her hands on your hips, in the flashing lights of the club, you couldn’t quite remember that.

The two of you stumbled into the quieter, back parts of the club where there were rooms. Karina knew this place better than you, anyway.

it was still loud, and you could barely hear anything. She pressed you against the wall, tugging your hair, beginning to suck and bite at your neck.

she was most definitely drunk, you could tell by the flush to her face and how her words were looser than normal.

You knew you should’ve taken advantage of this, but you couldn’t. Your body felt hot, and instead of finding information, like you should have, you fell right back into Karina like a rat to a glue-trap.

you were pathetic.

and you knew it.

1986, Bogotá, Colombia Local time: 2:23 AM Location: a safehouse for the cartel Objective: Find the key members of the cartel

Karina had called you into her office, except this time, Giselle was there.

You were beyond exhausted, but did not complain.

They were both intimidating. Giselle was staring at you, coldly, arms crossed, while Karina had an amused expression on her face, grinning, head tilted into her hand.

“Y/n, I have a job for you,” she called, in a cheery voice.

“It shouldn’t be too hard, but you’ll be working with Giselle from now on. It’ll be good for you,” she continued, standing up and walking towards you. “She’ll keep you safe— won’t you, Gigi?” She asked, almost mockingly, a saccharine expression in her face.

“You’ll have a body by the end of the day. That’s all you want her for, anyway,” Giselle retorted, irritated.

“How great! Come now, y/n, Giselle will explain,” Karina beckoned, quite happy today. Some expansion into the U.S. had gone well, you knew that much, but there was no reason she should be so.. animated.

Karina handed you a semiautomatic pistol, which you stared down at. She then smiled, handing you a small box of bullets. She still kept a smile on her face, remarking, “You know, these are special. They’re hollow point bullets— Ningning made them,”

“What? She made them?” You knew of hollow-point bullets, they weren’t a secret, just uncommon.

“Drill a hole into them, cut an X to make some petals, and there you have it— well, I’d ask Ningning, of course, I’m not a weapons specialist. It’s quite easy,”

“But why? They don’t-”

“Effectiveness. They leave a bigger exit wound, and leave shrapnel inside the body at times,” Giselle interrupted. “In other words, pain. They’re used to inflict pain,”

Karina smiled, sadistic as ever, as she watched Giselle load some rifles.

“Today, we have a few hits to get done,” Giselle informed. “You’ll be coming with me. You know how to shoot a rifle?” She asked, glancing over at your horrified expression.

“No, I-”

“What about a pistol?”

You nodded.

“Perfect!” Karina exclaimed. “You can help with the interrogation, then. Giselle, I’ll meet you at the location. Try not to dirty her too much, hm?” Karina advised, slinking away.

“That’s why she’s so happy?” You asked, in shock. “Because-”

“Because she gets to kill someone? Yeah, that’s why. She’s sick in the head. You knew what you were getting into,”

you stared at Giselle in silence. The other girl was grabbing some sniper-rifle that you had never seen before, and several rounds of ammunition.

she loaded it into the car, and you two began the drive.

you held the pistol in your hands shakily, silent for most of the ride.

once you got to the location, you watched Giselle pray. You had heard of hitmen praying before their job, and you still couldn’t understand. They prayed to God to protect them, yet, they were about to take a life.

“Why are you praying?” You asked, suddenly, acidly. “We’re about to kill people, God wouldn’t-”

“It’s my job,” she interrupted, which was a common occurrence with Giselle. “It’s my job, and I’m just asking Him to keep me alive until it’s over,” she spat, coolly. “You don’t know what I’ve had to do. But you will, soon. So just shut up, will you?” She got out of the car, slamming the door shut. You scrambled after her, and the both of you hauled the equipment up the boarded-up, run-down building, up several flights of stairs, finally beginning to set it up after a few stories, looking down at a busy road.

“Why are we killing him?” You murmured your question, watching as Giselle began to adjust the rifle.

“He owes Karina money, and he won’t pay it. He also stole some of our goods and has been cutting pure cocaine with some other shit, I didn’t really care enough to figure out what. His other friend is the one we’ll be interrogating. He’ll die no matter what he says,” Giselle shrugged, watching the empty street, the morning finally coming through the sky, although the dark, clouded sky blocked the bright sun.

“How long will we be here?”

“However long it takes,”

It turns out that “however long it takes” meant almost eight hours. You were bored to death, yet still terrified. You were about to kill someone. And you had been here, waiting on edge for it to happen, for almost eight hours. You felt like you were going to burst into tears.

“Giselle, how much longer is this gonna take?” You complained, although a bit shaky.

“Trust me, I don’t want to be here either,” she drawled. “But he should be here, soon. He works near here,”

It took maybe another half hour before he appeared. Giselle saw him before you did, obviously— you didn’t even know what he looked like— but she didn’t immediately shoot. Her eyes stared down at him through the scope, her fingers brushing against the trigger. He was wide open, walking slowly without a car in the world. He stopped for a second, someone crossing in front of him—

click.

you heard the gun go off before you looked down.

Giselle had shot him perfectly in the side of the head. You couldn’t see a lot, obviously, you were pretty high up, but you saw enough.

his body crumpled to the ground, immediately, blood pooling around him. People screamed, cars stopped, and they all were looking around frantically trying to find the shooter. Giselle moved the gun and herself away from the window, to the side where they weren’t visible.

“Come on, hurry up— we gotta go,” she urged.

“Hold on, won’t they see us step out of the building? Isn’t this a bad idea?”

“They won’t catch us, there’s too much chaos going down there. Now come on, let’s go,”

The drive to the warehouse was relatively silent.

Giselle was tense, but that wasn’t new. She always was. But she seemed almost.. solemn. Quiet.

you both arrived, stepping out of the car, into the meeting point. Giselle had her own pistol, you also kept yours on hand.

when you entered, there was a man tied there. Giselle tensed when she saw him, but said nothing. You figured it was because of Karina, standing behind him with the same placid, content smile. It was eerie.

“Giselle, Y/n! You’ve made it,” she smiled. “I take it the job went well?”

“It was all fine,” Giselle replied. “Nothing out of the ordinary happened,”

“That’s great, really, it’s good! I’m quite happy today, Y/n, because we have a special guest. I know I said he owed me money— in a way he does— but this is something far more important. He works with the Americans! Isn’t that just amazing?” She continued, happily, waving her gun around in the air as she spoke. “I’m sure we’ll get some good information out of him,”

“So, the both of you, come! Let’s begin,” Karina gestured to the man, in the dim lights.

you figured, well— the show must go on.

The man was tied to a chair, that much was obvious. The floor was concrete, and there were boarded up windows and maybe one or two hanging lightbulbs. It was a bit dark.

the walls were steel, corrugated iron, and it gave a prison-like feel. the man was looking around, wildly, straining against his restraints.

“Hey,” Karina called, walking closer to him.

“You’re going to tell me everything there is to know about those Americans, okay? And then I’ll let you go. As long as you don’t lie,” she assured, pausing. “Now talk,” she demanded.

“They’ve noticed the supply into their country. They’re working on stopping it. They’ve already sent a few agents to infiltrate a few different parts of the cartel—”

“Which ones?” Was her sharp, quick reply.

“Medellín, primarily, but they’ve been looking to Bogotá. I don’t know much more than that, I don’t even know who the agents are, I-”

“Ning!” Karina barked, the dark haired girl appearing out of the dark. She held a pistol in her hand, jaw clenched, staring up at Karina.. defiantly, almost. “Won’t you be a dear and deal with him, for me?”

Ning glanced to the man. His eyes widened, and he began to thrash. “No! I don’t know anything, I swear, I don’t know any agents! I don’t know anything!” He pleaded, desperately. Ning looked away, aiming the gun.

You heard a whispered ‘I’m sorry’, and she made the shot.

Through the head, perfectly center. Ning placed a hand over her mouth, the smell of blood biting and metallic, letting out a choked sob.

Karina looked over at Ning. “Now, Ning-ie, there’s a bus waiting for you outside. You’ll take that back to our meeting point, won’t you? So you won’t get caught?”

Ning nodded, wiping her eyes of tears. She went over to Giselle, they exchanged some words, hugged— she came over to you.

“Y/n.. I’m sorry. There’s no way to get you out, now. Be careful, don’t.. don’t trust anyone, don’t- just.. be careful, okay?” she advised, lowly, hugging you, still crying faintly.

“Ning, what- I don’t understand, why’re you acting like this?”

“You’ll tell Minjeong I’ll miss her, right? I wanted to say goodbye, properly, but.. I didn’t have time. I left a note,” she added, slipping it into your pocket inconspicuously, pulling away from the hug. “Give it to her, for me. You were fun to be around, I’ll miss you too. Don’t lose yourself, stay focused. It was nice to know you, y/n,”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll tell her- I’ll give it to her- Ning, why are you acting like this? What’s going on?”

Ning smiled, laughing wetly, still crying. “You’ll find out, later. You’ll find out..”

Karina walked Ning out of the warehouse. You and Giselle trailed behind, still a few paces away. The bus was parked right outside, filled with people.

Karina hugged Ning, whispered something to her which made Ning clench her fists and cry harder— you don’t know from what.

Ning got on the bus with a smile, crying— though you still didn’t know why— and waved goodbye.

You looked to Giselle, confused, watching the bus continue on, further down the street, already maybe a mile or two away from you. “What was that abou-”

your ears rang. You heard it before it registered.

the bus had exploded.

there was carnage, everywhere. Parts of it had been thrown into different buildings. There were body parts strewn across the street, a crater in the asphalt, fire, along the metal— cars had been crushed, it was now chaos in the streets. You had almost been pushed back from the force, nicking yourself with the small, sharp pieces of metal. Karina was still standing, her suit dusty and filled with ash.

“Karina, what- what did you do?” you cried, confused and distraught yet again, feeling the tears build in your eyes.

Karina cooed, crouching down over you, thumbing the skin under your eye. “Oh, mi amor, don’t cry,” she reassured. “Ning was working with the Americans. The man in the warehouse knew, and was helping her sneak information along our supply chain! Don’t worry, the traitor is gone,” she ran a hand through your now dirty hair, cleaning a cut on your face with her finger. She smiled, pressing a kiss to your cheek, speaking lowly into your ear.

“I’m tired of these Americans trying to ruin my business. They keep putting themselves where they don’t belong. Don’t worry, mi cielo, you’ll be safe as long as you’re loyal to me, and as long as you listen. I know you will. Because you’re trustworthy, aren’t you?” She smiled, looking down at you.

you nodded, dazed. Karina had just killed Ning. Ning was dead. You had to get out of here. You figured hundreds were injured. You had to leave.

Giselle was even farther back, looking at Karina with contempt.

you didn’t notice, though. You were too busy watching the flames dance in the street.

1987, Bogotá, Colombia Local time: 9:46 P.M Location: a safehouse for the cartel Objective: Find the key members of the cartel

it had been almost a year since the incident.

ever since Ning died, things had been different. Minjeong had been quieter, and angrier. Everything set her off, she came back covered in blood most of the time. You didn’t want to ask where she’d been— you’d just sit with her, quietly. Sometimes you heard her cry at night.

Giselle had been even more cagey, always out, defensive, on high-alert constantly.

and Karina.. well, you’d been spending a lot of time with Karina. You knew she was bad, you did, but there was something about her. It was just something about her, something that drew you in, and you hated yourself for it.

like right now. You were in her office, again, as she kissed you hungrily, hands gripping your hips in a bruising grasp.

your mind drifted. You reported back to DAS every so often, but you did inform them that you had to be very careful, that your reports would be sporadic. Truthfully, they didn’t event think you’d make it this far, do they were okay with waiting. They seemed to have several informants, anyway.

”y/n,” Karina growled, lowly, sucking and biting harshly at your neck. “You seem distracted. Focus on me, no? You promised you’d help me..” she murmured, almost a pleading sound to her voice. You weren’t stupid, though. Karina didn’t beg, she didn’t plead. This was mocking. You sucked it up, though.

you tried to focus on her, you did, but everything was beginning to get to you. DAS weighed heavily on your mind, and Minjeong’s grief did, too, and Giselle’s odd behavior, her accent, even the way she dressed— she didn’t seem like she was from here. She didn’t seem like she’d been her a long while.

“Y/n,” Karina snapped, annoyed. “Focus, will you? Or maybe you’ll end up like that bastard traitor,” she remarked, acidly, far too much emotion for the situation. Karina had been angrier lately, too. It must be the stress of the betrayal. Surely that’s why— it shook her to her core that there was a rat in her ranks. She had gotten paranoid.

the mention of Ning made you emotional, though. You felt tears prick at your eyes.

she looked down, and let out a laugh. “Oh, I love when you cry, baby,” she grinned, voice rough. “It makes you look so good. But not right now.. maybe in a bit. Stop being such a pussy,” she instructed, to which you nodded shakily.

and like that is how your work went, for a bit.

it wasn’t until late 1988 everything began to change.

Karina had been busy, lately. A lot of men came to her office, ones you didn't recognize and some you did, vaguely, from other meetings.

Karina had been overtly paranoid about informants— It was a miracle she hadn't discovered you, yet— or maybe she had. Maybe she was just waiting for the right time, playing with you, maybe-

"Y/n!" She called, in a sing-song tone.

You entered her office, quietly.

"I need your help for another job. A big one. If you do this, then it'll officially make you a part of us! Isn't that fantastic, baby?"

Karina had her hands on your hips, the same practiced smile she always wore on her face.

"Yes.. fantastic, it really is," you replied, in a murmur. "But what will I be doing?"

"You know the DAS building, here, in Bogotá? Well, amor, we'll be getting rid of it,"

"rid of it?" You tried to school your expression, but the shock and horror was plainly visible on your face. You felt sick.

"Rid of it. As in, you know— the building. I have a few ways to make sure it stays gone for quite a while. It’ll take nearly a year, I predict, but it’ll get done. You’ll be going to a few meetings with Giselle and me to make sure you can help. Is that okay, y/n?” She asked, in a faux-concerned tone. You both knew she wasn’t asking whether or not you’d do it, you had to. It was a rhetorical question. You would say yes, either way.

“Yes. It’s.. it’s fine,” you murmured.

“Good. Now, you can go. I’m sure there’s something for you to do to make yourself useful around here,”

MEETING ONE 1988, Medellín, Colombia Local time: 4:52 P.M. Location: a small town up in the mountains; el campo Objective: Find the key members of the cartel.

Driving with Giselle was really not a good time. The songs on the radio were good, though.

the other girl was so frustrated, for some reason.

“Giselle,” you chanced. “I don’t mean to pry, but seriously— why are you so.. stressed?”

“We’re about to blow up Colombia’s national security headquarters, I think anyone would be stressed,”

You eyed her, not quite convinced.

“You know, anytime we carry out a job you’re so on edge,” you commented. she whipped her head around, knuckles turning white as she gripped the steering wheel.

“Are you accusing me of something, y/l/n?”

“No,” you replied, slowly. “Not at all,”

the meeting took place up in the mountains.

the negotiations were mostly handled by Giselle, but she looked nearly ready to scream.

“We’re paying you what you’ve asked, just give us the supply,” she repeated, voice low.

“I think it’s fair to ask for a little more, linda,”

Giselle was seething. Honestly, these men had rifles, machine guns— you weren’t about to fight them. you took out your pistol.

you pointed it right at the 500kg of dynamite.

“Take the money,” you instructed, eyes wide. You looked crazed, most likely.

they stared at you.

“I said take the FUCKING MONEY! You think I won’t do it? We can add on 130,000 more pesos, but that’s it.”

They agreed.

Giselle was silent, in the car drive. You stared at your hands.

“You would’ve done it,” she murmured.

“I would have,” you agreed, and it came with a sick sense of realization. You would have killed everyone in there, including yourself. You would have done it. Who were you? What had you become?

Giselle laughed, one of the only times you had ever seen her show a positive emotion.

“Oh, God,” she snickered. “You really didn’t think when you signed up for this, huh?” She commented. Your eyes widened, but you schooled them back into place.

no, she couldn’t mean what you thought. She couldn’t.

“Careful, baby,” she hummed. “You don’t wanna become something you can’t come back from,”

well, that’s fucking ominous.

Your next meeting was scheduled in the following weeks. You felt like Giselle was.. watching you. Her gaze never left you, but whenever you looked back, she was always just staring out a window, or at something on the wall. It was unnerving.

The second meeting went smoothly, but ended late. Giselle was driving once again, smoking.

“Do you have another?” You asked, suddenly, glancing at her against the dark backdrop of the night.

“Another what?” She questioned, looking over at you for only a moment, before focusing on the old, pot-hole filled road again.

“A cigarette. And a light,” you clarified, holding out a hand.

“I have a cigarette,” she confirmed, handing you one. “But no light. Sorry,” she shrugged, seemingly unbothered.

“Oh, fuck off Giselle. Just light it with yours,”

She rolled her eyes. “Why should I? Don’t you have a lighter?”

“I didn’t bring my lighter, I didn’t think I needed it,” you shot back.

She sighed, annoyed, but complying. She kept one hand on the wheel, barely glancing at the road, lit cigarette half in her mouth, being held in place by her hand. You kept your own firmly between your lips, not wanting it to fall.

she pressed the lit end to your own, eyes dark, and you couldn’t help but stare into them.

the end finally caught a spark, lighting up, and you both stared for a second more before breaking away.

You took a long drag, averting your eyes from her gaze, glad the dark of the night would hide your blush.

“Thanks,” you muttered, gazing out into the fields.

“Don’t mention it,”

MEETING THREE 1988, Bogotá, Colombia Local time: 2:31 A.M. Location: Karina’s office Objective: Find the key members of the cartel.

It happened so very late, and you struggled to stay awake. You felt your eyes closing, but Giselle would push you, and you’d spring back up.

Karina was arguing with a man about the price of the job. She was aggravated, he wasn’t taking the accepted offer.

The meeting had started off very casual— she even offered him some of their supply. You didn’t take any, neither did Giselle, but Karina and the man each did a line, snorting it off the table.

You watched the cross that hung from her neck dangle along the table, occasionally tapping the wood. The other man wore one as well, as did Giselle, as did you— you felt just a bit guilty about it. Hopefully, He’d forgive you for your wrongdoings. Hitmen prayed to God and so did drug lords— as did nuns, priests, politicians— all prayed, all believed. At least, most did. They claimed so.

You were shaken from your thoughts by a loud crash. Karina had pushed the man against the wall, yelling, now— “¡Me estás sacando la piedra!”

Giselle never said anything like that. Come to think of it, she cursed under her breath, you weren’t even sure what language it was. you shouldn’t be thinking of Giselle, though, not when this man seemed like he would die. That shook you out of your stationary position.

you jumped up, rushing towards her. “Karina! Karina, let him go!” You demanded, trying to pull her off. Giselle followed suit, prying her off him. Karina was panting, she looked crazed. Blood trickled out of her nose, and you wondered how much of her supply she was doing.

“You don’t understand,” she growled, clutching her desk. “Just take the money,” she began, again, and the man finally nodded. She practically threw the money at him, watching as he scrambled out. She let out a frustrated sound, slamming her hands on the desk.

“Giselle, get out. Y/n. Stay,” she demanded, not turning around.

Giselle hesitated, for a moment, it was barely noticeable.

but she left.

Karina turned to you, and like so many times before— you were truly, deeply scared. And yet..

you fell right back into her, letting her kiss you, use you, until she was fine again.

1989, Bogotá, Colombia Local time: 3:13 A.M. Location: An old, unused road in the mountainside Objective: Find the key members of the cartel.

The meetings happened in quick succession. They took place all throughout the rest of 1988, and into early 1989. It wasn’t until September that things really began to change.

Minjeong was always out. She avoided Karina, and only spoke with Giselle sparsely.

You and Giselle were in the car, currently. The final meeting had just occurred, and the both of you had gotten tired of driving.

you were both just sitting there, with the car off. Giselle spoke, suddenly.

“How do you do it?” She questioned. “How do you put up with her?”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“Karina. I just.. sometimes, she’s too much. Especially lately. She’s paranoid,”

“I don’t know, I just-” you couldn’t say it was because it was your job. You couldn’t say it was because a part of you wanted her. You weren’t sure how to even reply to that. “I just do,”

Giselle seemed like she wanted to say something, but she closed her mouth. It was silent till she spoke again. “I don’t understand you. I mean, you’re like me, but.. you’re just so.. different— naive,”

“I am not naive!” You protested, even though you knew very well you were.

“Yes you are! I know you’re- I-” she wasn’t being very coherent, aggravated, fingers flexing like she was antsy.

“I’m what? What am I? Just spit it out, Giselle! I’m tired of-”

She cut you off, kissing you. You were surprised, for a moment, but quickly reciprocated. Her fingers curled in your hair, pulling you closer. You braced yourself on the dash, trying not to touch the wheel or anything else that could move the car.

“You’re so fucking infuriating,” Giselle muttered, pulling you into the backseat with her. “You just have no idea what’s going on, do you?”

You panted, now slightly confused. “What?”

“Nevermind,” she groaned, pulling you closer once again.

She pulled you onto her lap, and you snaked your hands into her hair, tugging at it, blunt nails scratching at her scalp.

You didn’t really feel bad about it, is what you’d realize later, when you were driving back in silence.

You kind of wanted her to do it again.

You and Giselle didn’t talk about anything that had happened. Partly because you didn’t want to, and partly because you feared what Karina would do if she found out. The weeks leading up to what you found to be a tragedy were tense. Minjeong was out more often than not, as was Giselle. You couldn’t warn anyone, because Karina had such a close eye on you, lately. She just wouldn’t leave you alone.

December came quicker than you would wish.

It was night when you heard Minjeong speaking to Karina.

“Jimin, you can’t do this,” she murmured, lowly, voice laced with an unseen anger.

“Why are you so tense, Minjeong? I thought you always agreed with me..” she sighed, and you could hear her walking through the thin walls.

“I can’t let you kill so many people, it’s just- it’s insane! You’re being irrational— you’ve snorted half of your own fucking supply!”

“Shut the fuck up,” Karina— Jimin, you’ve learned— spat, and the unmistakable sound of a slap resounded through the warehouse, Karina breathing hard. You heard a struggle, and panting. “I’ll kill you, Minjeong, don’t think I won’t. I’ve kept you around out of pity— and of course, you’ve always been so obedient. Why are you so hellbent on rebelling now?” She whined, in a mocking manner.

“You killed Ningning— how am I supposed to be loyal to someone who kills her own men?” Minjeong replied, voice breathy, as if she couldn’t breathe.

There was silence.

“You’ll learn. Now, leave here. If you argue against me again, I’ll feed you to the wolves,” Jimin growled, and the sound of Minjeong hitting the floor was heard all throughout the warehouse. “Get out of my sight,”

1989, Bogotá, Colombia Local time: 11:13 A.M. Location: a safehouse for the cartel Objective: Find the key members of the cartel.

Karina was, and always will be, a mystery.

you had found out now that Karina’s name was Yu Jimin. You had asked Minjeong, shortly after what happened. You went to sleep, and awoke to the sound of the radio, blaring.

“El edificio del Departamento Administrativo de Seguridad ha sido bombardeado.”

you woke up with a start. You knew it’d happen. But there was a sense of true hatred, in that moment.

you walked out of your room.

you walked into Karina’s office.

“Yu Jimin,”

she whipped around, smile morphing into a frown in seconds.

“How do you know that name?”

“Minjeong,”

She saw the gun in your hand.

“Oh, won’t you put that down?”

You stared at her.

She smiled, then.

“You know, I knew you worked for them,” she began, nonchalantly.

“What?”

all that work, all that secrecy— it meant nothing, in the end? She knew, she always knew?

“I saw you searching for our names. You were just so.. you seemed like you’d work for the government. And then I found that little phone you had! It’s been disconnected for years. They haven’t received a single message,”

You stared, still, dumbfounded. Suddenly, this made it all the worse. She did this, forced you to help— knowing? You raised the pistol.

“Giselle,” Karina called, and the other girl appeared a few seconds later. She stared at the scene in front of her, looking between the two of you.

“Get rid of her for me, will you?” Karina dismissed, shrugging off the threat.

Giselle slowly took out her own gun. She pointed it at you, and yet—

“Yu Jimin, you’re under arrest for drug trafficking, terrorism, murder, smuggling, and-”

“What? What are you talking about?” Her eyes widened, as she shot up to her feet, gripping at her desk.

“My name is Aeri Uchinaga. I work for the FBI-”

“It was you!” She shrieked, nearly mad. “You were the mole? But you- you’ve killed in my name! Won’t you be implicit?”

“I’ll be pardoned by the state, most likely,” she informed.

it all made sense now. The strange accent, the tray she was so tense, constantly— you were a bit proud of yourself for noticing all the off things about her, but now was not the time.

you stared at Karina. You wanted to shoot her.

“She could leave,” you pointed out.

Giselle glanced over at you. “She could,”

you aimed at her leg. Just a bit off from the major artery in the thigh.

a click.

The aftermath was severe. The building was destroyed, most of your department had dissolved. Minjeong was working with the police, you had found out— although you hadn’t heard from her since the arresting.

you weren’t sure what to do, anymore. You had dedicated so much to this— and it was all for nothing. Essentially, you had failed.

You were currently living with Aeri, actually. You were a valuable witness— you had seen and done things that would hopefully be able to incriminate Karina, more than all the other records there was of her actions.

Aeri wasn’t as mean as she had been. She was actually quite quiet— but not mean. You two spoke about it. A lot had happened, and you both lived through it. You could relate to each other.

it would take time, though.

1993, Bogotá, Colombia Local time: 11:13 A.M. Location: Washington, D.C. Objective: . . .

It had been 4 years since Yu Jimin had been arrested. She was facing many, many charges— although you tried not to keep up with the news. There was to much going on.

currently, you were with Aeri. You and Aeri had gotten much closer in the following years— how could you not? You spent almost every waking moment together.

Aeri had some work to do, so you were waiting. It was quite simple, really.

You had been offered a position, here— in D.C. You’d work on other jobs, similar to this, but far more investigative. It sounded.. good. You’d like to help people, thats alway’s something you’ve wanted.

You were shaken out of your thoughts by Aeri.

“Hey,” she called, to get your attention. “Let’s go, they’ve got some questions to ask you before you can get hired. You know how government jobs are,” she shrugged, leading you down a winding hallway.

“Yeah,” you replied, your hand in hers. “They kind of suck,”

“They do,” she agreed, with a sigh. “They kind of do,”

A/N: I HATE HOW THIS CAME OUT 😭😭 it took me so long but it’s done. I kind of just wanted to get it over with. I don’t have much to say, honestly I might delete this. I had a good idea for it but just couldn’t find the words to execute it. sorry </3 expect a better work soon. I’m hoping to finish up some less heavy ideas before returning to my cold war AU. In any case, asks are appreciated, and I’m open to requests! thank you for reading this mess </3 also aeri being endgame is payback for you (aettudae) making her married to a man in honeycomb. that should be ME.

EXTRA: when you read ‘mi amor’ keep in mind I’m imagining to pronounced like one word, so more like ‘mia-mor’. ‘mia’ kind of sounds like ‘mya’. this will make sense to spanish speakers.

[back2thebasics]

Charlie Swan x Fem Reader - Target Practice

Hopefully you guys like it! It's my first time trying to write Twilight fanfic but I had lots of fun writing this so I would be down to make more in the future if there is an interest.

Charlie Swan X Fem Reader- Target Practice -

Summary: You work as a Private Investigator. You first met Charlie at a gun range and ever since you saw him for the first time, you can't stop thinking about him. He notices you right away, not being able to keep his eyes off of you, intrigued by you. One day, he finally musters up the courage to approach you and start a conversation.

Content: 18+, MDNI, sexual content, guns, oral sex, public sex, age gap, 

WordCount: 4k

You had moved to Forks recently from a big city, looking for an escape from your stressful job as a private investigator. You had covered anything from cheating to much darker things that you were trying to forget about. You needed some time off, so you decided to switch things up and move to the small town of Forks, Washington. Not long after arriving, you discovered through a local newspaper that there was a gun range a few minutes out of town. The first time you shot a gun was for your weapon training course. It surprised you how easily you took to it and how you somewhat enjoyed the experience. The small rush of adrenaline and the focus required made your blood rush and made you feel alive. Luckily, you never required a gun for work, but you always kept one hidden in the glove box of your blacked out Mustang. The first time you went to the gun range, you had just wanted to check it out, but once there you felt stupid turning around. You entered the old looking concrete building, which almost looked like an old prison but smaller. You could already hear the loud gunshots, slightly muffled through the front door. 

Once inside, you went up to the front desk, which doubled as a large gun locker. The old man leaning back in an old wooden chair polished a gun looking up at you. He put the rifle down and stood to greet you. You pay the admission fee and the rounds of ammo and you, as you enter the second section of the range where the targets are, you feel the old man's stare. He probably knows every single customer, but you are new here and also the only woman in sight. You feel pairs of eyes on you as you go to your assigned booth at the very back. That's when you see Charlie for the first time. He is in the booth right next to yours, his focus remaining on the target ahead. You find him handsome from first sight. He was just your type. A little older, rugged, strong looking, with a full head of dark hair and a nicely trimmed mustache. He seemed quiet, observant, but discreet. You caught him glancing your way as you settled in your own booth at the very back. As you prepped your gun, you felt his eyes on you again, lingering, but not constantly. During your first visit to the shooting range, he stayed silent but sneaked intrigued glances towards you when he thought you wouldn't to notice. You had good aim the first visit despite being a little rusty. His was near perfect, you noticed. He pulled the trigger like it was breathing to him, never straying too far from his intended target. He also looked detached a little while he shot round after round like he did this every Sunday. Did he? You thought to yourself. It was only on your way out that first night that you noticed a patch on his jacket telling you he was a cop and the chief of police of Forks. 

The following two weekends, you made the trip to the gun range to shoot a few rounds, and you saw Charlie there each time. He seemed to allow himself to look at you more and more each visit, his gaze lingering longer than before. Then one day, he finally broke the silence at the end of a session. 

“Where you from anyway? Ive never seen you around?” He asked as you were taking a break. You pushed back the large noise canceling headphones that you wore while shooting. 

“I just moved here about a month ago. I’m from Seattle.” You explained, happy that he finally spoke to you. 

“Ah, that explains it. If you don't mind me asking, how did you learn to shoot like that?” He asked, arching a brow slightly. The sight made you hold in a giggle. 

“I'm a Private Investigator so the training came with the job but I ended up enjoying it so now I do it as a way to unwind, I guess.” You told him, looking up into his dark eyes. He nodded, as if finally able to solve the puzzle he’d been constructing in his head.

“Well, I have to say after me you might be the best shot in this town.” He chuckled softly, and the praise made your stomach do flips. You didn't think a random man’s opinion would mean so much to you, but you cared about what he thought of you. 

“Well Chief, thank you. My name is Y/N.” You stuck out your hand for a handshake, not yet knowing his name.

“Please call me Charlie.” He shook your hand, giving you a warm smile. His touch lingering slightly on your smaller hand. His hand slightly calloused and rough felt warm in your grip. You both pulled away and went back to your own thing. He kept shooting a few rounds. You found yourself simply watching him for the rest of the session. 

A few months later…

After settling in fully into the Forks' lifestyle, you noticed a few things. Charlie was everywhere, and everyone in town knew and respected him. He was also a very quiet, reserved man who was impossible to read at times. You always felt nervous talking to him for some reason despite his trustworthy reputation as the town's hero. You were sitting in the only bar in town. You rarely went out for drinks, but tonight you sat on a high stool dressed in a nice black jumpsuit. You took the time to do your hair and apply a little makeup, which was a rare sight. While you were lost in thought, a person suddenly occupied the empty seat next to you.

“Fancy seeing you here.” Charlie sat with an ease that made you think this was his usual spot. You flashed him a smile that he returned.

“Yeah, what are the odds?” You joked back, knowing it was the only bar around for miles. 

“You come here often?” You add in teasing him.

“Probably more than I should.” He joked back and gave the bartender a little signal. A few minutes later, a tall draft beer sat in front of him. Your cocktail sat half empty as you nursed it, taking your time to make sure you could still drive home after. The two of you sat and talked for a while, the time slipping by as easy conversation flowed effortlessly. 

“I have this cabin up in the mountains with an outdoor practice range. I usually go up there with my buddies during hunting season, but I was wondering if you'd maybe want to go there to shoot. I mean you don't have to but if it interests you, I could um.. take you.” He seemed to get flustered by the proposition. Was he asking you on a date? “Yeah, that sounds great. I'm free next weekend.” Your answer eased his antsy demeanor, and he settled back into the stool, smiling at you, pleased.

“Perfect then. Ill pick you up and we can go.” He confirmed and the thought of going on a weekend trip to his cabin excited you more than anything had in the past 2 months . 

The weekend came, and you felt like a teenager as you paced by your window waiting for his truck to pull into the driveway. The outfit you had spent hours debating was a functional but cute ensemble consisting of a pair of jeans, a black tank top paired with a soft Forrest green flannel, and a pair of lace up hiking boots. You heard the gravel crunch and then saw his truck slow to a stop. To your surprise, Charlie exited the truck and approached your front door. A loud but still polite knock sounded a few minutes later, and you had to stop yourself from running to the door like a love-struck teenager. Opening the door, you admired him for a moment. He had shaved, leaving only his signature mustache perfectly trimmed. He wore dark-colored jeans paired with a gray t-shirt and a faded leather jacket. He looked so handsome that you had to stop yourself from ogling too long and making things awkward.

“Ready to go?” He asked, flashing you a smile that almost took your breath away.

“Yeah, but I don't have a gun. Sorry, I forgot to mention that earlier.” You usually borrowed one from the range. 

"No worries, I got you covered." He replied, smirking. Walking back to his truck and you followed instinctively. He opened the hatch of his truck to reveal a black trunk of some sort. He pulled it towards him and unlatched the cover to reveal a whole arsenal of firearms, from pistols to rifles. 

There were loads of ammo and other things as well and you were relieved he came prepared. You were willing to simply watch him shoot if it had come to it. You climbed in the truck after Charlie held the door open for you. He drove the both of you into the mountains, the forest getting thicker the further you drove. You filled the silence with pleasant conversation. You couldn't remember feeling this comfortable with anyone on this level before meeting Charlie. He made you feel seen, safe and fuzzy inside. Like a warm roaring fire was slowly building within you every time you thought of him or saw him in town. Once you arrived at the cabin, he helped you out of the truck and gave you a quick tour of the property. He showed you around the little clearing where he had set up many targets of varying distances, sizes and difficulty. He seemed proud of his hard work as he walked you around, showing you all the little details he had thought of and engineered himself. He then brought you inside the cute little log cabin that had a small kitchen, bathroom and a single bedroom. The inside was decorated with memorabilia that had been collected over the years. The cabin had charm and you couldn't help but walk around appreciating all the little momentos that made the cabin feel alive. This place was Charlie's space and you could tell he had fun times here in the past with his friends. 

“Its so nice Charlie, wow.” You told him, admiring the little metal fireplace in the corner of the living room. He saw you looking and approached to start making a fire. “You like it?” He smiled, crouching down to add logs to the fireplace. 

“Yeah, I love it.” You replied, still finding more things to look at. Everything in here had a story behind it and you couldn't wait to ask him more about his different adventures. 

“We can take a little break and eat before we go out to shoot.” He lit the fire and then stood to cross the cabin over to the fridge.

“You brought food?” You asked confused, not remembering a cooler of any kind. He open the fridge door and the fridge was fully stocked.

“I came up here yesterday to make sure we had food and other supplies we might need.” He pulled out a few things, placing them on the counter and closing the door once more. The thought of him going through all this effort for you made your belly warm and a rush of butterflies to flutter around. There was a tension in the air but it wasn't the bad kind. You went to his side to help him prepare the food. You made some steak and potatoes along with some steamed green beans. 

“My daughter showed me how to cook. Without her I would still be eating tv dinners every night.” He laughed to himself, draining the boiling water from the potatoes carefully.

“You have a daughter? I didn't know.” There were still a few things you wanted to know about him and you were curious to learn more.

“Yeah, Bella, she doesn't live with me anymore. She has a husband Edward and they live together with their daughter, Renesmee. I go visit them as much as I can nowadays.” He seemed wistful but the love that shined in his eyes made it clear the level of affection he held for his daughter and her family. 

“Hopefully, I can meet her one day.” You smiled at him warmly.

“Yeah, that would be nice.” He agreed, looking into your eyes, his dark pupils flaring slightly. He looked away, going back to preparing the food. Once you were both done, you sat and ate in a peaceful silence. Then it was time for some fun.

You fired round after round, enjoying the rare sunshine that made the day even more special. You had friendly competitions with Charlie, who liked to tease that you were cheating by distracting him. In the end you won fair and square and you celebrated by opening a beer and sitting tother in the clearing on a large fallen log. He smiled at you as you took a sip of your beer. You were a little sweaty, your hair clung to the back of your neck from the beaming heat of the sun. Charlie seemed lost in thought, so you broke the silence first.

“What are you thinking about?” You asked softly.

“I can't remember the last time I was this happy.” He said simply, and the words flared something inside you like the fire that was building before it came to a roar suddenly. It gave you the confidence you needed to say the words that had been on your mind for the past month.

“I like you Charlie.” The words came out in a single breath, softly spoken, making you feel vulnerable.

“You do?” He asked, looking at you with a fierce look of longing. His question seemed like it served for his reassurance. Like he couldn't believe that someone like you could ever like someone like him.

“Yeah, a lot.” You replied nodding, a small smile forming on your lips. You felt nervous, giddy energy bubbling inside.

“Fuck sweetheart, you sure? I am a lot older than you are.” He seemed to be having an internal battle. You did have a considerable age gap between you, but that did not stop the attraction that you felt. He was kind, charming, warm and considerate, along with incredibly hot, which helped.

“I know, but that doesn't change anything for me. If it doesn't bother you then it doesn't bother me.” You said softly, scared he would reject you after bearing yourself to him. He looked torn and intense, and it made you nervous. 

“Listen, I don't want you to think I have ill intentions. I like you too, trust me. Shit, I don't remember the last time I felt like this. It makes me feel young again.” He swore and chuckled, shaking his head.

You felt hopeful, so you decided to take a leap of faith. You knew he would never make the first move, so you did. You leaned in slowly, giving him time to pull back if he wanted to. He instead pulled in closer as well and your lips met his. The kiss started slowly as you sighed into the soft contact of your lips. His mustache brushed against your upper lip and you gently griped the back of his neck with your hand. The kiss grew more intense as he brushed his tongue against your bottom lip mid kiss. You opened up for him and let your tongue explore as well. You pulled back breathless and the both of you held each other's eyes. Heat was building low in your stomach, sending a pool of liquid to your core. 

“Do you want to go inside?” He asked gruffly, his voice thick with desire.

“Yeah.” You led the way, standing from the log and feeling charlie follow behind you. Once inside, you couldn't hold back any longer and you almost pounced on him. Turning back to him once he closed the door and pressing him up against it, resuming the kiss you shared outside. It took him a split second to return the kiss, gripping your hips firmly with strong hands. He surprised you by turning the both of you suddenly so your back was pressed against the door. You released a small breath and looped your hands around his neck. He grabbed behind your thighs and lifted you effortlessly so your legs wrapped around his torso.

 The kiss continued fierce and passionate. Your hands gripped the back of his hair slightly, tugging the short strands between your fingers, earning a rough rumble from Charlie. The sound set another wave of lust to your core. You broke the kiss panting and looked into his blazing dark eyes that devoured you. 

“Charlie, I need you.” You spoke the words sounding needy even to your own ears.

“Fuck sweetheart, are you sure?” He asked for your consent, his eyes hopeful but careful, making sure you felt comfortable.

“Yes, Ive never been more sure.” You answered with a small smile, knowing this was important to him. 

“I don't have any, um, protection, darling.” His low, almost embarrassed voice made your heart swell. You stroked your thumb on his cheek. “I'm on birth control. It's okay.” You answered, soothing his worries.

You saw the restraint in him give in that moment as he carried you to the bedroom. You felt the excitement return, and you started peppering kisses to his jaw, down his neck, over the strong column of his stubbled throat. He groaned deep in his throat, a sound of pure male pleasure and it encouraged you. He set you down gently on the queen size bed hovering over you and leaning down to return the favour. He trailed kisses down your neck to your exposed collar bones, spreading kisses across them like he was appreciating every inch of your skin. You shivered with pleasure beneath his strong frame. He gently helped you out of the flannel you wore and then the tank top and jeans, leaving you in your underwear. Then you went to work on his clothing, shedding him of his layers until he was in his boxers and socks. 

The two of you continued the frenzied kissing like horny teenagers because that's what you both felt like. He was hard and you could tell it was big. It excited you and your hand trailed down to pull out his large cock from the confines of his underwear. He let out a huff of breath and he groaned when you started stroking him slowly, teasing him a little. He sat back and pulled you up with him so you were straddling his lap. He expertly unclasped your bra, and the look of admiration and pure lust thrilled you. He spent time appreciating your breasts, kissing them, licking your hard budding nipples, and then gently nipping the tips with his teeth, sending you twitching of pleasure in his arms. He made another guttural sound of pleasure and then you were beneath him again. He was trailing kisses down your stomach, going lower and lower until he reached your soaking wet clothed mound. He peeled your wet underwear from your legs and flicked them on the floor. He looked up at you with an intense lustful gaze, his dark eyes asking before his lips spoke the words.

“Can I?” The question was almost whispered against your core, sending shivers up your spine. You nodded quickly, flustered. Your cheeks felt warm and your breathing was still a little erratic from the intensity of the moment. He dipped down to your slick folds and got to work, starting with slow teasing licks that made you crazy. Your hands instinctively flew out to grip his dark brown hair. You felt his facial hair brush against your inner thighs and it turned you on. He devoured your pussy like a starving man, with languid strokes of his tongue that increased in speed slowly, followed by slightly sucking on your sensitive clit. You pulled harder on his hair, releasing little moans and soft cries at the pleasure. He increased in speed and intensity until you felt the slow climb of your orgasm forming. It came like a crashing wave, strong and sure. The white hot pleasure peaking and sending you free falling of the ledge. Your legs shook as you came on his tongue, moaning loudly and releasing his hair to grip the sheets tightly with bunched fists. He pulled back after you were done riding the comedown of your dizzying orgasm.

“You taste so good, Princess.” He praised low and throaty from his own desire. 

“Charlie, I want your dick.” The request left you without even thinking, you were still hypnotized from the rush of coming hard for him. He seemed pleased at the words and he pulled down his boxer briefs, his fully erect dick touching his happy trail. He was a good 7 inches for sure and the sight of him in his full glory made your mouth water. He positioned himself until he was lined up to your slick entrance and then, with a smooth slow thrust, he pushed in. The feeling of him filling you slowly was exquisite. He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut in pleasure.

“Fuck you're so tight.” He cursed under his breath as he started to test out a few thrusts. You moaned as he slowly picked up the pace. He braced himself on his elbows, caging you into him and sending his smell to flood your senses. He smelled faintly of pine and sweat and it turned you on more than any expensive cologne could. He fucks you deep, powerful thrusts and your moans increase in volume. He looks down into your eyes with lust, sweat beading on his forehead from the exertion. He lets out little groans and muffled curses as he fucks you. 

“You're so pretty when I fuck you, sweetheart.” He coos, pounding into you and sending you close to a second orgasm already. 

“Fuck yes Charlie.” You moan out his name, clutching the surrounding sheets in pleasure. 

Your back arches and you feel one of his strong, calloused hands on the small of your back, holding you up and pressing your front to his chest as he thrusts into you fast and strong. 

Your sensitive nipples rub against his hairy chest and it sends sparks of electricity through your body as you feel the peak of your second orgasm approaching. It rocks through your body and you pull him in for a needy kiss. You come while kissing him, breaking apart to moan out his name as you convulse in his powerful grip. Your toes curl, your back arching even more and then you come even harder than the last time. Your vision blurs a little as you come down from the high, still pressed close to a panting Charlie, who came at the same time. He pulls out slowly and then stands to grab tissues from the wooden side table next to the bed. He wipes you first, then himself. Then he approaches where you sit at the edge of the bed, watching him with a loving smile. He settles into the bed, pulling you close to him, and you cuddle with him in the drowsy post orgasm haze. His hairy chest serves as your pillow as you gently stroke his shoulder and then trail your fingers on his chest. You sigh happily.

“You know that was the best sex I've ever had.” He smiles down at you, flashing you with one of those breathtaking smiles.

“Me too.” You agree, smiling wider and then pulling him in for another kiss. 

[drdemonprince]

Would you ever live in nyc? How would you characterize Chicago vs nyc?

My one bedroom in Chicago costs $1010 a month and it's in a heavily populated, well connected queer neighborhood, of which there are several in the city.

In NYC, there are actually very few dedicated queer bars, no specifically gay neighborhoods, and you're not going to find a housing under $2000 a month unless you're living in some hole in someone's attic or across the water in Long Island or something.

Because everything is so expensive, almost everyone in NYC is wealthy, though many won't admit it. They're only able to be in the town because of a high paying career or family money to help them launch an artistic career they're aspiring for. And since virtually everyone living in the city is wealthy, there is not much room for queer culture to really take root -- there's fancy clubs and shows and pricey events populated by a certain class of very well off queer people sure. But it's all a very careerist wealth-driven enterprise. Everything is disposable. Nothing lasts long.

Here in Chicago there's a lot of scrappy broke real trans and queer people making all manner of shit for ourselves, and there's some real history that lives. We're the epicenter of the leather and rubber fetish communities in the country, and major nexus of furry life, all of which are primarily working class pursuits in their origins and present. We have the Leather Archives, Midwest Furfest, International Mister Leather, Mister International Rubber, and a variety of other kinky cons. We have multiple dungeons and leather bars, cruising rooms, and a gay sauna; NYC has almost none of those things. We have queer spaces and bars that aren't targeted to cis gay men, which is almost impossible in NYC because those more marginalized groups can't afford to run them. We have more small bookstores than NYC, more anarchist groups, the PSL has less of a chokehold on our local organizing.

I know a lot of people in NYC and have visited there quite a bit and I once felt a desire to move there, because so many of my publishing industry colleagues are out there. But having taken a real hard look at it and done a bunch of mushrooms about it, this is my home. And my neighborhood specifically is where I belong -- Uptown has been a haven for the hillbilly diaspora, Indigenous people, Black people, and queer people since the great migration and while it's changing for the worst in some ways due to craven property developers, corrupt alderpeople, and the steady march of gentrification, there's no place else I'm trying to take root.

[anika-ann]

Walking Back Into My Own Myth - A.B.

Type: long one-shot, significantly AU, supernatural elements

Pairing: sorcerer!Andy Barber x reader   Word Count: 22,2k (🥹)

Summary: They warn you not to wander the woods alone; but the woods feel more like home than the house you grew up in. They warn you not to confuse your head with childish tales of supernatural; but sometimes fiction feels more real than your own life. They warn you not stay alone with a man you just met, let alone in his house; but sometimes danger lurks in unexpected places. Sometimes, one can rely on the kindness of strangers. ... Or can they?

Warnings: soft dark, NSFW, 18+, smut (unprotected sex, oral, fingering); softdark but rather soft I think (come on, it’s me, also sort-of redemption arc?), dubcon, sex pollen and non-consensual ‘drug’ use, orgasm control, allusions to praise kink, possessiveness; supernatural elements, near drowning, mention of a dead animal, arseholes relatives, allusions to mostly emotional (past) abuse, minor injury and blood, language and SO MANY words and so much smut; 'little bird' as a term of endearment

A/N: Alright. First of all, this is one of rare occurrences of me writing softdark, so be warned. Second, this story is a callback to a perfectly innocent lovely event by @yenzys-lucky-charm back in autumn, specifically to this post. And third, I do realize that 22k fic is a massacre. I believe it flows best when read as a one-shot, but if you are understandably intimidated by that, there is a heart divider approx. in the middle where I feel taking a break is most suitable. At your convenience. Enjoy 💕 A/N 2:Dividers by @saradika-graphics 

The frozen leaves were crunching under your boots, a soothing sound between your harsh breaths and huffs and occasional curses interrupting the otherwise peaceful song of the woods; rustle of the glazed grass, soft creaks of the branches bowing to the wind, a barely audible clinks of sharp snowflakes having created a beautiful harmony.

A harmony much needed after you had just left the utter chaos of a family gathering which, as usual, ended up in drowning the holidays in a cesspool of negativity. And as it often did, the negativity seemed to revolve around you.

You didn’t know what you had been thinking, coming here. You had a life outside of this small town, a mostly good one too; you had no reason to visit your hometown whatsoever, year after year, naively hoping for a change. But family was family, your mother always said; one did not turn back to their own blood, even if they had become the almighty big city girl.

As if. As if you were that.

The said big city was now finally feeling at peace as she had walked out of the door, having had her fill of lousy loud human beings, turning to the quiet of nature instead.

The one place where you all truly came from.

The one place that loved you no matter what.

The one place where you had never been and never would be judged.

You had always been drawn to woods, even as a little girl.

To the quiet place to hide from the overwhelmingly loud world, from boys pulling your hair until your eyes watered for their fun, from other girls cutting it for the very same reason, from teachers waving it off with kids can be a bit cruel, so what?

Of course you kept escaping. The embodiment of the cliché of a small town since young age; the designated weirdo. The one who’d rather ran through the woods than the few streets and newly built clothes store; the one who was more interested in fairytales and myths than videogames; the one fascinated by pagan tales from the old continent and local legends than the Bible. The very definition of pariah; side-eyed by peers, looked at through fingers by the adults and elderly. No matter how much you had moved towards normalcy to be approved of during the years, the small-town folk, as always had put the label on you having used the special kind of glue they were experts at making. It stuck.

And so did your love for the woods.

Hikes became your hobby, the woods your only solace. The safest place on Earth; for which many gave you strange looks still, more so since you had moved to a big city that offered but a daily walk in a minuscule patch of greenery.

Naturally, parks weren’t the same as here; here, in the woods, you felt like you could finally breathe.

The only reason why you had chosen the city was your job; your job and the visceral need to leave the very people you had just left in the house far behind. The city was but a jungle of steel and glass and concrete, constant noise and raging sea of people crushing your soul; but if there was one thing you hated more than the suffocating atmosphere of a city, it was the small-town gossip and narrowmindedness. 

You only came back to your hometown once a year, for Holidays. And every year, you regretted it.

The constant jabs from your family, about your job, your tiny apartment you finally moved into after years of having to cohabitate with various unique personalities; about your hair and make-up, about your weight, wrong no matter which side of the scale it leaned to. The never-ending biting remarks about being unable to keep a man. And all that, followed by offended comments that you couldn’t take a little teasing.

Mocking was the right word. Goddamn bullying.

So no, you could not take a joke like that; especially when they were twenty in a row.

And you had tried, you truly had. You nodded and chuckled and complimented and helped around the house, but nothing was ever done right. And you suffered the mocking, because in the end, those people were your family and family loved each other and maybe you were indeed a little too sensitive. So you kept trying, year by year. You had been to Sunday school as a kid, despite despising it, really – so for Holidays, you joined everyone in their prayers, coming to midnight mass, participating in traditions. Like a good girl; like a good daughter.

You accepted the family hypocrisy too and participated in that silly and very much non-Christian tradition of theirs, of all single family members throwing apple peels into water to reveal the first letter of their future spouse’s name; every year, despite the game being rigged, an utter nonsense, if for nothing else then for the fact that everyone ended up with an O or C or U, because, well, that was what apple peels looked like. Ironically, all your siblings and cousins had actually married someone whose name started with the very letter they had received in their ‘prophecy’, a little too self-fulfilling for your taste; but you congratulated them anyway and kept throwing the apple peels in too.

And you did it wrong, again; a scandal. This year, your apple peel curled mysteriously enough to a create a form resembling a cursive A, the first in family history. You always had to have something extra, didn’t you? God.

You loved your family; you did. You told yourself you did, because no one was perfect and unconditional love was bull. But you had never felt so completely alone and unloved as when you were with them.

You wondered why that was; and the answer was clearer than the skies on a freezing December night. The tears that stung in your eyes had little to do with the wind growing icier and sharper; it had everything to do with clearly being an unlovable person.

If you never came back from your walk, they probably wouldn’t even notice. Not until they felt like humiliating someone, again, and suddenly realized their favourite target was missing. Who would be their next victim? Probably you. The joy of talking about someone behind their back was a great substitute to laughing to their face, you supposed.

You scoffed and sniffed, shaking your head as you resumed walking. The short trail you had set off to – slightly underdressed, you had to admit – looked different than usual this time of year. Indeed, only the frozen over, crunchy leaves instead of snow; not even winters were what they used to be. You should have never come back.

As the falling snow finally seemed to stick, rather pieces of messy ice than soft snowflakes, you made the executive decision to stay away from your relatives and this town next year.

This year would be last they ever they’d ever see you.

Arriving to the clearing among the trees brought a genuine smile to your lips, the first one in two days. The sight of the lake – too small to become a favourite destination of families during summer heatwave, hugged from afar by tall white birch trees and caressed by long leaves of grass and reeds with a single old willow tree offering a sanctuary to a little girl wishing to enter other worlds through reading – moved something deep within your chest. A memory of peace, nostalgic longing for days when life had been easier – but it hadn’t.

You gulped, letting you heart lead your steps. Pulling out hands from your pockets, your fingertips grazed over the white bark, flexing gently as if to grasp the harmony of the old days where escaping the judging looks by getting lost in old myths still appeared like a plausible solution to all problems. Brushing over the thin branches of the willow tree, you could almost feel the summer breeze toying with the leaves, protecting your ears from the echo of scoffs and cries. Stupid fairytales! Pick a real book for God’s sake at least! Learn the Scripture instead! Blasphemy! Fables for silly children! You’re messing and confusing your head with those childish fantasies!

One corner of your lips rose higher, a memory of just how much fonder you grew of the stories with every speck of dirt people threw at them. Folklore, was the right word. Old wives’ tales. Legends. A touch of magic from times when people still believed in it and wrote their faith into traditions that could be sacred and bloody all at once. How was that different from drinking the blood and eating the body of Christ?

The hypocrisy of a small town.

You too, were a bit of a hypocrite, you assumed; you badmouthed the apple peel tradition, only to dive with fascination into myths and traditions of another; but those, those were yours to explore, yours to cherish. Not pushed at you.

You remembered sitting in the willow’s shade, much smaller at the time, reading with batted breath the stories of crime and punishment for toying with forces beyond human compression, with life and death. A series of stories passed by word of mouth, gathered and weaved into simple poems; a tale of two sisters walking in the death of a night on Christmas Day to a frozen lake, wishing to glimpse their future in the water surface. You recalled the moral of this particular story too; it was better not to know; in the story, one of them learned about her upcoming marriage, the other about her own death. Was it truly something one wanted to know…?

Perhaps there was morbidity to it, but it used to fascinate you; the mystics of it all, the morals, the question of what if you had that chance. What would you do? Would you, too, be seduced by a mirage of your dead beloved to walk to your near demise? Would you give in to the temptation of riches at expense of a life? Would you risk gods’ punishment for wishing to know what only gods were meant to know, your future?

Would you?

With a bitter chuckle, you crouched by the lake, fingers carefully caressing over the thinnest layer of transparent ice.

Years and years ago, even a month ago, you would say it was not worth it to tempt fate. It was better not to know, to be content with what one had at any given moment, to only keep on hoping for a happy ending rather than to learn about an inevitable tragedy; such was the message of the old tale, sticking with you firmly your whole life. 

Then, two weeks ago, your cheating dick of a boyfriend – ex-boyfriend, naturally – graciously gifted you a broken heart as an early Christmas gift on top of everything else barely kept together with your weak hands.

Would you like a glimpse of the future, a speckle of hope, looking at you from the water surface? Yeah. Hell, you might jump into the ice-cold lake if it meant someone would tell you everything was going to be okay.

A shiver ran down your spine as a gust of cold wind blew, weaving snowflakes into your hair; a prompt and a warning, you would have thought several years ago, a childlike faith in the supernatural.

But there was no supernatural. Oh no, humans managed to punish themselves and each other just fine on their own, sometimes without a crime preceding it.

With another chuckle – because what was the worst thing that could happen? You’d see your own face staring back? – you pressed against the thin layer of ice, surprised by its firmness.

“What the-“

You leaned into it further, pushing harder, more bewildered by the resistance than anything; a distant sound of a creaking wood reached your ears, the wind playing in the branches.

An echo of a voice.

A soundless whisper of your name.

Your head snapped to the direction of the almost haunting voice, nothing but the clearing and the woods surrounding you.

“I’m losing my mind…” you muttered under your breath, sighing, turning back and pressing against the ice once more.

The sudden loud crack took you by surprise, your feet slipping as you retreated your hand too quickly, losing your balance.

The next thing you knew, a scream was dying in your throat as you gulped for air, the freezing water gripping you neck to toe, your suddenly heavy limbs feeling like having to move through thousands shards of glass.

Your body spasmed painfully at the brutal temperature drop, even your lungs burning from the seemingly colder air.

Your heart thundered in panic, beats so wild the poor muscle might actually burst or simply give out, your temples pulsing with its frantic echo. Your vision blurred with black blending into all the white surrounding you.

This was what encounter with death looked like; ice-cold, sharp, pale and hopeless.

You were going to die and your heavily flailing limps barely keeping your head above water would not be enough to save you. You were going to drown. A bastard child of a sob and desperate gasp for air tore from your lungs, the ice cutting through your skin and flesh.

Then, the haunting call of your name again, closer, warmer.

Come to me.

I need you.

Fight.

You hungrily bit for more air, your head spinning, the voice growing louder with every word, urgent, but soothing all the same, like a helping hand extended.

Don’t you give up.

Come find me.

It might have been God; might have been the spirits of the woods. Most likely, it was the shock making you hear imaginary voices.

Your fists clenched despite feeling like your knuckles were being grazed by razors, a deep cut not drawing blood but making it turn into ice instead. Still; you pushed against the water, feet kicking madly, the tears springing from your eyes as burning as lava in comparison to your skin.

Another kick. Push. Arms so heavy, and so, so cold, thousands of knives piercing your flesh, tearing a desperate raw cry from depth of your lungs.

You squeezed your eyes shut and screamed again, pushing with all your remaining might, throwing your arms around.

Solid surface. Crunchy leaves. Your dug your numb fingers into the stiff ground, grabbing nothing but dirt but pulling and kicking out at the same time anyway.

A minuscule motion; your chin, your neck, on the solid ground. Not thick ice – earth. The woods. Your best friend.

A pathetic cry of laughter burst from your ribcage, shaking violently as you forced your muscles – not even feeling like your own anymore – to keep pulling. To keep kicking out, an absurd imagery of your ex’s face being behind your feet causing you to choke out a brief bark of laughter again and pull. And again and again, your shoulders, torso, legs, sagging against the frozen land.

Your body shook beyond your control as you tried to roll over, your boots making a pathetic splashy sound that barely reached your ears over the pounding in your head. Your chest was expanding and deflating rapidly as you laid on your back, slow blinks against the still falling snow and the sight of grey skies. Every single cell in your body screamed in pain, every motion like a fresh stab wound, but you couldn’t stop; you couldn’t stop shaking.

Whatever survival instinct you had took over as your hands pushed pathetically by your lower back so you could sit up and then scramble to your feet.

The process of standing up seem to last an eternity and half, the temperature dropping further; and when you did stumble to your feet, standing on legs that bent to the wind almost as much as the leafless branches, you nearly toppled over and fell head first back into the lake, your vision blurring.

Whether the water surface would show your future was the furthest thing from your mind; it was just the cold. Brutal, deadly cold. That and warmth.

That, and the strange kind voice, perhaps your very own guardian angel who seemed to love you, the only being in this goddamn universe, whispering in your ears.

Come, my love.

Keep walking.

And you did. Dry sobs erupting from your throat, boots practically freezing to the ground in between every step, exhaustion and the unforgiving cold etched into the very fibre of your being, you dragged one foot along the other, step by step, the miniature distance walked mocking you harder than all your relatives combined.

But it wasn’t their voices you heard; this one was sweet. Like a hot chocolate with whipped cream and pinch of winter spices on top, warming your frozen bones; like what you imagined a hug by a fireplace felt like, a kiss to your temple with affection without pretence. Like gentle palms cradling your face before his lips touched yours, tasting like true love; like a burning touch to your bare skin, dragged so softly, teasingly, before finally giving you what you desired.

Come to me.

I’ll keep you warm.

Keep you safe.

Dark spots danced in your vision, making you dizzy, your heavy eyelids slipping shut; your knees, quaking so hard they could no longer carry you, buckled and sent you plummeting.

Your palms met a rough surface as you flailed your arms out, barely caught against the bark of a tree, scraping your skin enough to draw blood. Your eyes snapped open, another ragged sob tearing from your achy throat.

And that was when your vision cleared despite the blur of tears.

A light.

A cabin. A small house; a cottage? Who the fuck cared.

It was an occupied house; warm light spilling from one of the windows, smoke coming out of the chimney, a promise of everything your body desperately cried for. Almost feeling its warmth radiating all the way to your numb fingertips, you gritted your teeth, strength you never thought you possessed poured straight into your veins, having already almost frozen over.

In the very back of your hazy mind, it occurred to you that you had never seen the house despite your numerous hikes; then again, you had no idea where you had walked, left being right and right being left, the only one certain direction being forward.

Again, who the fuck cared. You had never seen a cozier place in your lifetime; a lifetime that was soon going to end should you not will your useless legs to keep moving forward.

Reaching the porch staircase, you grabbed onto the beautiful wooden railing for balance, propping up to make the step.

And missing it.

You sagged against the railing, barely catching yourself before hitting your head. You propped back up, forcing your leg to rise higher, one step, two steps; the one remaining as tall as the Everest.

You sobbed again, lamenting the absence of the warm honey-like voice. Where was it now, huh? You were so close and needed another nudge, another-

The door of the house opened cautiously, revealing an outline of a figure, inviting light spilling around him; a tall, broad man, his face, the most handsome features you had ever set your eyes on, twisted in a frown and a flicker of horror.

For a beat of motionless silence, it flashed through your slippery mind who of the two of you appeared more frozen in the absurd scene; another beat, light and delicious warmth pouring from inside the house, like an oasis in the middle of a Siberian dessert.

And then he was moving, without a word, only sucking in a horrified breath as his hands slid under your arms and lifted your near deadweight with little effort, helping you not only to overcome the last step, but also the endless distance from the stairs into the doorway.

The interior was warm enough to make angels weep, enveloping you like a loving hug; but his touch felt like a central heating poured into your veins, his grip firm and certain despite the ice patterns having grown on your clothes surely cutting into his skin. Perhaps all alarm bells in your head should be ringing as he kicked the door shut behind you, leaving you alone in the middle of godknowswhere in a stranger’s house, a stranger who was now leaning you against the wall as your legs gave out at last and fought with the zipper of your coat no less, but they didn’t.

No alarm bells; all you heard was his gentle whisper.

“Let’s get you out of these.”

Zipper torn away, hands sliding under the fabric to peel it off of your violently shaking body, your teeth kept clattering.

“I’ll get you warm in no time.”

Your sweatshirt next. Your boots. Your socks; a cry of pain escaped your bluish lips, his warm hands gently enveloping your foot to allow you bask in his warmth.

“I’m sorry, I have to do this. We need to get all these off.”

Your shirt followed.

Your body, as if on instinct, moved slowly but willingly in tandem with him, small motions to aid him rid you of the cold until it didn’t.

You could feel the change of temperature bite into your icy wet skin, a lick of sharp pain; an instinct led you to reach out back for your clothes to fight the once again brutal change.

He grasped your hands, easily gathering your wrists in one palm, a gentle but uncompromising grip.

“No--- no! Look at me. Can you hear me?” he asked.

The squeeze on your wrists and the direct question finally pushed you from mindless haze to blurry reality.

It dawned to you that yes, climbing back into cold soggy clothes would not help.

Jaw quivering, teeth still clattering, you nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, only following his order. And oh, were you looking, the reality creeping in slowly, but gaining sharp edges just as a brief smile passed his lips.

“Good.”

That he was. Good.

And incredibly handsome.

Not but a few years older than you, dark well-trimmed beard complimenting his sharply cut features, elegant nose girls must have swooned over as much as over the surprisingly warm blue of his eyes and his slightly messy hair combed up in a way that called for your fingers to run through it. His shoulders and arms, while not enormous, gave impression of being able to carry you without too much issue, lean waist and long legs with muscular thighs making him look like some sort of a fever dream of yours; or in this case, a brain-freeze dream.

“I’m going to pick you up and carry you to the bathroom, alright? I’ll start a bath for you,” he explained, his hands already sliding under your body – and gods, was his touch like a taste of heaven, so deliciously and thoroughly warming against your painful goosebumps – rising to his full height and delivering on his promise as your hands automatically reached to wrap around the back of his neck for stability.

He did not even flinch at the icy touch; he did not even blink at the fact he was now carrying a woman, a perfectly vulnerable woman, stripped to her underwear sticking to her stiff nipples, so cold and soaked through that the fabric might as well be non-existent, completely see through because of course you had chosen white today. But he just kept walking. His gaze roamed, perhaps growing slightly darker, but mostly focused on your face and the path.

He truly must have been a figment of your imagination.

The cloudy droplets remaining on your skin seeped into the lovely light blue of his henley, a shaky apology spilling from your tongue, earning you another smile and a shake of his head, the former turning softer when you stuttered out a ‘thank you’ as well.

Without a word, he set you down once he reached his destination – bless the floor heating feeling like prickly heaven against the soles of your feet – moving to the bathtub and starting the water as you simply stood there, wrapping your arms around your body for both warmth and keeping your non-existent modesty. As he tested the temperature, he checked up on you from the corner of your eye, a swift head-to-toe glance before he took a small bottle by the tub, adding a few droplets to the water. Soon, the bathroom was filled with pleasant smell of fresh blossoms and herbs.

“We can’t have the water too hot as not to shock your system, but this essence can work true magic, believe me. Come on.”

An absurd idea of being thrown into the water and having your head held down under struck you, freezing your feet to the floor.

He remained stood straight by the tub, tall and large and so much stronger than you, hovering. His concerned eyes met yours, suddenly wide with fear.

A warm voice; a haunting whisper.

Come to me.

I’ll keep you warm.

I’ll keep you safe.

A shudder rocked your body, still trembling with the cold having seeped deep enough to reach your very soul.

Come, my love.

I need you.

“Can you hear me, little bird?” a voice cut through the fog of your mind, causing you to wince, an image of a baby swallow of all birds flickering in your vision.

A hazy memory of the innocent sweet creature having fallen from its nest, your own small hands, hands of a curious child, tenderly holding it in both palms as you lifted it back to its home. There you go, little bird.

A sharper memory, hands stained with dirt as you covered the small bird in its shallow grave, having found its wing torn away just as a group of boys were running away from the lake, with a burning hope in your heart that the bad luck meant to follow those who kill a swallow would catch up with them. Your tears felt cold on your cheeks, so cold against the white-hot anger of having seen them hurt an innocent creature, a breathy whisper of sorrow and compassion on your lips. There you go, little bird. No one can hurt you now.

“I’d never hurt you, little bird. I promise.”

You blinked, eyes refocusing on his sincere features, his hands raised in the most universal gesture of meaning no harm.

What an odd phrasing, you thought. What an odd nickname. Endearment, really.

Another shudder ran down your spine, but your feet began moving on their own volition, shaky steps towards the bathtub, the man’s steps, in return, retreating to give you space.

Something in your heart trembled softly at the gesture, the smallest of relieved smiles in the corner of your lips, one he hesitantly reciprocated.

“I’ll leave you now. I will only bring some dry warm clothes and leave them by the door, okay? I’ll wait so you have time to get in,” he assured you. “I’ll knock and I won’t look.”

“W-why?”

The question fell from your lips before you could think twice about it, earning you a sad smile speaking of just how profoundly he understood the duality of the question.

Why wouldn’t you take advantage when it would be so, so easy?-- - Why do you, hell, everyone, think I am not worthy of staying for and looking?

“Because you deserve better, little bird,” he said, sincerity threaded in the simplicity of his words.

You deserve everything, the echo of the warm voice washed over you, fresh tears stinging in your eyes.

“Stay as long as needed. We have all the time in the world.”

With those words, he finally left the bathroom and closed the door. The key remaining in the lock from the inside; you could easily deny him access and force him to place the clothes outside. It would be a wise thing to do, too, to protect yourself, especially with how vulnerable you had already revealed yourself to a stranger, a much larger man who could choke the life out of you or take whatever he pleased.

So why did you want him to come here, to check up on you, to come closer and look, the thought awaking an entirely new kind of heat inside you?

You shook your head, peeling off your ice-cold underwear and climbed into the tub as fast as possible, even as you knew it might hurt at first, the reward only coming after a while.

Instead, an entirely different experience awaited you.

You couldn’t supress the moan of pure bliss as the water enveloped you and warmed you through in an instant with what could only be described as love; tenderly grasping your frozen-through flesh, caressing your skin in a way none of your lovers had ever bothered, leaving not warmth, but heat in its wake, your muscles relaxing and stringing with anticipation all at once.

You observed the water, not having even stilled yet, with mute wonder. Your skin, having earned grey undertones, was back to its natural colour without a tinge of pain, having you swallow a cry of relief. Essential oil or not, your stranger had not exaggerated; this indeed felt true magic.

It was a mere bath; but it felt so sinfully good your body turned pliant in an instant, your adrenalin-filled mind clearing and fogging in bliss.

Carding your fingers through the water curiously, it felt as if the water returned the affection tenfold, caressing your skin all over again, slow and sensual. A circle on the water surface with your middle finger felt like an invisible soft touch up your inner thighs, a teasing that left burning need in your core, so painfully out of place and oh so right and addictive. Swirling your hand in the water playfully; a sensation of hot lips attached to the apex of your thighs, firm and hungry.

“Good--- heavens-“ you sighed, head tipping back, your lips parting with a gasp, something in the back of your mind tingling with danger.

Having nearly died – and the realization should be like a bucket of ice-cold water, a terrible pun intended, but it was nothing short of exhilarating instead – you did not retreat from the danger, sinking into it instead.

The delicious warmth inside you only grew as if a reward, your fingers gliding through the water again, a breathless whimper on your lips as you felt a delicious stroke deep within your sex. Another curling touch to the water; a curling pressure against your special spot, stars flickering behind your eyelids.

“Fuck-“

Come, my love.

I’ll keep you warm.

I’ll keep you-

A knock shattered your illusion; you grabbed the edges of the tub with a gasp, blinking open your eyes not having realized you had closed them, sinful images of the very man who now stood behind the door dissolving and yet remaining torturously vivid in your mind.

“Everything alright, little bird?”

“Y-yes. You can come--- come in,” you stuttered, heat of embarrassment washing over you like a tsunami.

God gracious-

What kind of a crazy person were you?Who in their right mind, no matter how scrambled from near-death experience, would lust and touch themselves – but were you? It felt like someone else did, and gods, did you love that feeling, needing more – who would do this, right in the bath that the kindest stranger, so respectful of their privacy, ran for them? Imagining him, no less, his large warm hands gripping you as if he never wanted to let you go, needed you more than air-

He slowly opened the door ajar, a careful, respectful peek inside the room as he slipped a pile of neatly folded clothes through the crack, his gaze finding yours.

“I hope you’re feeling better, little bird.”

Oh he had no idea just how much better. He couldn’t have and yet, something in his gaze sparkled, something dark akin to amusement, so alluring, quickly replaced by a flicker of contentment once you nodded, not trusting your voice, again. It was only then when you realized you were still slightly above water and perhaps, whether he wanted or not, he did get a peek of your breasts.

Not that he commented on it. Because out of two of you, he was apparently the decent one.

“Good.”

Without any prompting, he moved back.

He was already closing the door, when you blurted out the question. “Wait---! What’s your name?”

You gulped as he paused, his gaze meeting yours again.

“Andy. You can call me Andy.”

You tested the name on your tongue, a sweet treat you found yourself wanting to taste over and over.

He rewarded your efforts with a smile, one that had air catch in your throat.

He had smiled before, a heart-stopping curl of lips on an exceptionally handsome man. But now, for the first time, his smile reached his eyes; warmth like no other spread through your veins, a longing settling in your chest as the door closed and you were left alone – and wanting – once more.

The clothes were too big for you, sleeves and pantlegs too long, unsurprisingly; and unsurprisingly, they were as just as Andy said, warm. And very soft and comfortable, with tones of a scent that made your head spin in the best way, tempting you to bring the sleeves up to your face and breath in deeply just before you rolled them up.

They were just a pair of sweatpants, a henley and a sweatshirt, boxer briefs and a pair of fluffy socks; but they felt like home.

And so did the space.

Andy had carried you up the stairs; a beautiful staircase made out of light wood with traditional sturdy railing, offering a view of the ground floor. Sneaking from the bathroom however, it was not where you headed straight away, your eyes drifting towards the other two door at your level, your stomach making a funny flip; perhaps an office or a guest bedroom and his bedroom. The tingle in your fingertips as your hand reached out of its own volition for the doorhandle was almost unbearable; you had to clench your fist hard enough for your nails to leave moons on your already scraped palms.

You shook your head at your own creepy urge to explore, turning a sharp right towards the stairs instead.

Heading down where you could hear clinks of dishes, you took every step slow, fingertips brushing over the railing; it almost seemed to pulse with warmth of life, causing your breath to catch. Or perhaps it was the view of the ground floor.

When Andy had brought you inside, your vision was still rather blurry, all your attention focused on not dying of hypothermia and on the handsome stranger sent to you by heavens itself; now, when you had the opportunity to appreciate the interior, you did.

The living room seemed as if cut out from a lifestyle magazine, except it didn’t, little details making the scape appear actually lived in. A quilt thrown over the armrest of a small sofa, a pillow or two on each of the pair of armchairs in earthly tones of green, large enough to hide in comfortably with a book, the stony fireplace inviting for cosy winter evenings; the three books balanced on the coffee table in a hazardous stack whispered of how Andy might have spent some of his evening exactly like that. Four bookshelves filled with readings of various length, in between several pieces of art on the wood-panelled walls, not expensive on a first glances, but perhaps all the more loved. A pair of wide windows offered the last remnants of daylight, aided by the warm fire of the fireplace. Multiple plants to compliment the earthly tones and woodwork; and yet what made you smile was the abandoned empty cup, whispering of this place being someone’s home.

Resisting the urge to linger and perhaps examine just how soft was the quilt and how comfortable the armchair would be, you followed the noise to the kitchen; rather spacious as well, tuned to slightly darker colours than the rest of the house, the light entering from large windows prevented it from being too dark in daytime, the lamplights immersing it in warmth at nighttime. The wide counter stretched along two walls as well as the cabinets, creating enough space for variety of dried herbs, teas, spices and other casings as well as several basic appliances, the workspace almost robust in comparison to the dining table with three wooden chairs and soft emerald cushioning.

There seemed to be so much love and attention poured into the space, much like into the cozy living room, that couldn’t but you wonder which of the two were the true heart of the house to Andy.

As you entered and he turned to you with a smile, you couldn’t but believe it might be the kitchen, for he looked as if he belonged; and with an unfair pang of jealousy, you realized it was also hard to believe he lived in his home alone.

Then why did he give you his clothes, a voice in the back of your head questioned. Why did you see no photographs of a lovely wife or family? Why did he look at you from head to toe and back, meeting your gaze with his smile growing, a content, almost possessive glimmer in his eye?

You were losing your mind, you were sure; and the unfairly handsome stranger was the cause of it.

As he was the cause of you liking the fact all too much, the flash of a memory of how good it had felt to play with the water, imagining his hands mapping out every inch of your body, made you shiver and your breathing waver.

You needed to get a goddamn grip on yourself.

But how could you, when his warm voice washed over you, a gentle deep timbre, friendly, resonating in your ribcage?

“Hey. Good enough fit?”

“Yes,” you agreed quickly, clearing your throat as your voice came out rather choked. “Thank you, Andy. I can’t repay you enough.”

“Nonsense. Come sit down,” he beckoned to the table lightly, taking a wooden tray with two cups of tea and a teapot and setting off the same direction. “I don’t know about your tastes, but I think this tea could be just what you need.”

You smiled hesitantly, your heart swelling at his offer. He had already done so much for you, helped you in, ran a downright magical bath for you, lent his clothes to you; sitting down and stealing more of his time felt like an imposition, taking all too much with no way to repay him indeed. And surely, he had so much better things to do.

But it would be impolite to refuse, you argued with yourself as your steps instinctively followed him, as you pretended it wasn’t the way the muscles on his shoulders and back shifted under the thinner navy shirt he had changed into hypnotized you, his mere presence, a certain quiet charm, tempting you to stay. And if was asking you to linger for a while longer… yes, it would be very impolite and you’d be your worst enemy.

After all, tea sounded like a wonderful idea for your suddenly parched throat.

“’Kay.”

His smile with a crinkle in the corner of his eyes was like a caress on your cheek, ending with his fingertips under your chin to tip your head back for a kiss.

You needed to get a grip on yourself. Fast.

As you sat down across the table from him and he set one of the cups in front of you, the strangely sweet herbal aroma washing over you as well as his attentive gaze, you caught yourself wrapping your hands around the cup not only for warmth, but for steadiness as well.

Your heart seemed too unsteady in the face of the handsome man, skipping a startled and entirely too pleased beat when you took note of him doing the same with his cup – almost comically small in his large hands – revealing an absence of a wedding ring.

Come to me.

Come, my love.

I’m all yours.

Heat flushed your face at your observation and at the painfully clear echo of a sweet voice, your head snapping back up.

Andy observed you with certain kind of curiosity in his blue eyes, wordless intensity that almost made his irises appear darker. It had your heart hammer in your chest with everything but fear. It was magnetic, almost coaxing you to climb over that damn table separating you and-

“Thank you,” you blurted out, nodding towards the tea, taking a quick centring breath and then cleared your throat. “You have a lovely home, Andy.”

“Thank you. It took a while but… I did make it into my own space.”

My own space, he said. A deliberate or coincidental choice of words?

Was he telling you, between the lines, that there was no one else and that he had noticed your ogling and didn’t mind, welcomed it even?

Or was it subtle reminder that you were but a guest invading on his own space and peace and his hospitality was nearing if not already overcoming its limit? People did not choose to live secluded like that on accident.

Mostly, you reminded yourself self-deprecatingly.

“Thank you for letting me into your home. I promise to be out of your hair soon,” you assured him. It earned you a disapproving frown.

“Nonsense. I’m glad you’re here. It’s pretty cold outside.”

“No kidding,” you muttered, lowering your gaze briefly. “I just… I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

Meeting his eye again at his thoughtful hum, there was something infinitely warm in his features; it travelled through your veins, a shot of ecstasy of being wanted spreading into every cell in your body and making you feel light and anchored at once.

“Don’t worry, little bird,” he said, one corner of his lips rising higher in almost a smirk as your breath caught at the endearment rolling off his tongue with what could only be liked to indulgence. “That’s impossible.”

He held your gaze, your heart thundering in your ribcage, minute breaths coming out short by the minute as he seemed to lean in closer, stealing oxygen from your lungs, heat pooling in your belly. Fuck, he was so close, tempting lips framed by the beard you just knew would be soft and just the right amount of harsh against your skin, against the intimate flesh of your thighs-

“What happened at the lake?”

You startled in your seat a little, hands twitching, a powerful painful skip of a beat of your heart, the intimate bubble having grown around you popping with a loud snap.

“W-what?” you breathed out. “How did you know-“

“It’s the only body of water nearby,” Andy responded, voice perfectly levelled, oblivious to the cold fingers of fear creeping to the back of your neck. He smiled even, despite the concerned lines on his forehead. “Suppose you didn’t decide to get a dip in the fountain and walked all the way from the centre of the town.”

I’d never hurt you, little bird, I promise, his earlier words echoed in your head, followed by another almost haunting promise.

I’ll keep you safe.

And then, a sultry one:

I’ll keep you.

“Oh.”

You laughed nervously, shoulders slumping.

It felt so silly to be thrown off guard by his question; it made perfect sense he’d figure out you were by the lake. And you had to admit, that quip of his was quite funny too – as much as it was clear he added it to put you at ease.

“Eh, sorry,” you muttered, unsure where to look, too embarrassed to meet his gaze. Your hands found the cup again like a salvation; a steady point and the ideal excuse.

Taking a sip, you were shocked at the alluring taste; sweet with just a hint of something savoury, tingling on your tongue and sending pleasant heat all the way down your spine, euphoria exploding behind your eyelids. You didn’t remember closing your eyes but when they fluttered open, you imagined this was what seeing the world in colour for the first time after years of being blind felt.

You took another sip almost instinctively, certain it had to only be the first impression, sweetly warm liquid a blessing for your body; but it tasted just as delicious, striking every chord of your senses just right and beyond.

“Good?”

You refocused your gaze on Andy, his eyes firmly set on you, an almost mischievous twinkle in his irises.

“Like nothing I’ve had in my life,” you said bluntly, earning a chuckle and – was that a hint of a blush on his cheeks as he lowered his gaze a took a sip as well?

“Uhm, thank you. It’s one of my favourite blends I’ve ever made.”

That stunned you.

“You’ve made this? That’s incredible.”

Granting yourself another taste, you then set the cup down almost religiously. Andy watched you do so, a pleased smile in the corner of his mouth, having returned to holding your gaze, expectant.

Right. He had asked you a question before you experienced a little taste of goddamn Eden on your tongue.

You taste like Eden on my tongue, honey.

A shiver ran down your spine, your mind scrambling for the ice-cold memory of the lake, so wistfully distant and yet digging its claws into you all over again.

“And uhm, to answer your question. I just… I was by the edge, slipped and fell right in,” you said, shrugging it off to hide a different kind of shudder, freezing water as if beginning to pool at your feet, slowly swallowing your ankles and creeping up ad up…. “I didn’t-- the ice wasn’t too thick and I just--- it was… I barely made it out.”

You didn’t realize your hands had started to tremble as your voice trailed off, vision blurring slightly, until a warm hand covered it, steading your hold on the cup. The air had grown too thick in your lungs, making it difficult to breathe in; and then it was gone along with the water, with just a few words and a lingering touch.

“I’m glad you did,” Andy whispered, voice as gentle as his touch. “I’m glad you found this house too. That you’re safe.”

I’ll keep you warm.

I’ll keep you safe.

Concern. Care. A ghost of a promise you had trouble grasping, a voice so close to your ear you could almost feel the warm breath on your skin, but you knew that should you turn, you’d only see air. So you didn’t.

And you could not keep looking forward either, not anymore. Unable to bear the sincere weight of Andy’s words, you instead glanced at his hand enveloping yours so easily, so naturally; so right. As if it belonged there and always had.

But it didn’t, did it?

Your hands, you – didn’t seem to belong anywhere. Never had. No one had ever wanted you to stay. No one had ever cared enough.

Not until Andy.

“Well at least someone is…” you muttered absently, swallowing the sardonic chuckle.

And how pathetic was that? Not of him, but of you? A complete stranger, taking you home like a stray nearly-drowned kitten on Christmas Day, because no one else wanted you and he was the only one to give a damn.

Gods, how sorry he had to feel for you? How fucking lame was it of you to have even thought of him such sinful thoughts when all he must have seen was a-

A gentle press to your hand had you squeeze your eyes shut as to keep the tears suddenly gathering at bay.

“Hey now. What do you mean by that? I’m sure there are plenty of people who worry about you, family, friends… a partner,” he added after a brief hesitation and was that not a case on point.

Of course he was hesitant.

Why would there be one? Who would want you as their partner?

You scoffed.

“Sure,” you echoed.

Heavy silence settled over the room, suffocating and itching, only interrupted by your slow wavery breaths. Andy’s hand remained over yours, as motionless as he seemed overall; a scene frozen in time.

Was he judging you? Resisting the urge to laugh at you? Pitying you? Or did he feel nothing at all, so profoundly disinterested now that you slipped so carelessly, opening up?

That was how things always were, weren’t they? Once façades began to crumble, once people started to reveal true colours, they were vulnerable to judgement; and with the mystery cracked like an old toy, the intrigue was lost, along with their interest.

Was that what was happening now? All the kind care, all the sweet words Andy had said, losing meaning because they never held one in the first place?

Swallowing thickly, you looked up, unable to bear not knowing, preferring to tear off the band-aid at once.

A lump grew in your throat as you caught his eye, worry etched into his expression, a soft frown above an even softer gaze. Compassionate. Gentle. And laced with an inexplicably deep understanding.

He might as well be staring into your soul.

And you didn’t know how; but suddenly the dam just burst.

And you told him all, barely pausing to take a breath.

You told him about having been the pariah all your life, about feeling so alone, only finding solace in nature and fables and myths, at never being enough, for your family, for your friends, colleagues and boss… and clearly for every single one of your boyfriends since two of them had simply left and the latest one hadn’t even had the decency to leave before jumping into someone else’s bed.

About being but a side character to your own story, because no one ever believed you could be important enough to be the lead. And perhaps not even you; not anymore.

But the funny thing was that as the words spilled, you didn’t sob once. As if someone had untangled your tongue and the coil of pain in your chest at once, you went through tender, achy points of your life as if you were listing important plot points of someone else’s story, someone you did not even care for, really.

You wept silently, voice hoarse but steady, tears of not pity nor rage but cold comfort streaming down your burning cheeks.

You sipped your tea in between and all you felt was relief; speaking these things to a man who was basically a stranger, a stranger who showed you more kindness than all people you know had in a year and judged you less than all your past company combined,was incredibly liberating.

It felt like letting go. It felt like dropping dead weight you hadn’t realized you had been carrying, just so you could rise to greatness.

And something unreadable in Andy’s unwavering gaze whispered with tender determination that he believed that was exactly what you were meant to do for some reason.

His thumb ran over the back of your hand, having relaxed in his grip, turning it over to caress the sensitive skin of your wrist, sending a pleasant tingle all the way down to your toes.

“You deserve so much better than your family’s poison, little bird. As for those assholes, the last pathetic piece of shit in particular… well, I bet he doesn’t even realize what’s he lost, he’s just that daft.”

Normally, you had tendency to defend Jason when anyone bad mouthed him, the habit sticking for days after he had revealed himself to be a lying cheating bastard; but now, you remained quiet, a corner of your lips even rising up in a genuine smile as Andy’s finger seemed to draw a nonsensical pattern over your skin as if he wasn’t spitting profanities. Your gaze, tears having already dried, lifted to meet his.

You felt warm; so thoroughly warm as if your bones had been never known a day of summer, achy in the constant cold, until now.

Until this strangely charming man whose silence could speak volumes, whose words felt like a balm to your soul; because unlike when spoken by others, his words threaded lace as tenderly as a spiderweb around the wounds in your heart, cradling it with gentleness and a promise of steadiness.

You couldn’t put your finger on it; something about Andy made you want to believe. And to give in; to anything. To give in to something you hadn’t even realized you had buried and was now creeping its way out to the sun, eager to bask in his comfort and praise.

And gods, the quiet powerful outrage in his voice made your heart flutter, your core stirring with heat and whispering that ‘pathetic’ was the last thing that came to Andy’s mind when looking at you. The heat having taken permanent residence deep within you had nothing to do with the warmth of the bath or the tea and everything to do with his ever-present touch, the rich timbre of his voice, his undivided attention.

“And you’re never alone, little bird.”

Gods, he was handsome; almost maddeningly so. He must have chosen secluded life, you thought; attractive people like him had it easy, people agreeing with them left and right, tripping over their feet to be in their social circle and tend to their needs, bask in their light.

And he was quiet, respectful and so incredibly inviting, making you open yourself up and wishing to be seen, because being seen by him meant being appreciated; it was too much to resist.

“I’m sorry I sprang all this on you,” you said, so dully in comparison to the power behind his own words, but as you did, you realized you should be apologizing. In fact, you should be going; it was getting dark and as lovely as Andy’s attention was… burdening him with your past was the least attractive thing to do and the crawl of embarrassment found its way out onto your skin, your hand retreating from his. “I… I don’t know what got into me. I should go; I definitely am overstaying my welcome at this point.”

Andy tilted his head, brows creasing; not in quite in anger, only discontent. 

“I told you; that is impossible. We haven’t even finished the tea,” he pointed out, already reaching to pour you another cup. “And I’m glad you got this out of your chest, it feels like you needed that. And I was happy to listen… as much as I feel like someone should teach your asshole ex how to treat a woman as precious as you.”

You gulped at his last words, the flutter in your heart inevitable at his praise, your exhale slow and shaky as Andy’s fingers carefully found your hand again once he finished serving the tea. You hesitated in retreating your hand again, the touch almost electrifying.

You were flattered; so awfully flattered and absurdly needy for this man and his attention which seemed to go way beyond what you could imagine in your wildest dreams.

It would be so easy to be convinced to stay a little longer, perhaps explore what turn the afternoon, evening or even night might take; which was why you had to leave. Because this was not you.

Was it?

Andy’s fingers interlaced with yours, his voice dropping to a murmur. “If I had a woman like you, I’d cherish her every day. I’d treat her like a damn queen.”

You couldn’t explain it; the sensation came as sudden as lightning from clear skies and just as powerful; his words like a tender kiss to your throat, right over your carotid, your eyes fluttering shut, your breath stuck in your lungs.

A hazy image of a living room, a cup with a couple of swallows drawn in thin lines on the coffee table, fading into a blur as the focus shifted on one of the armchairs; you sprawled in it like a queen indeed, one hand laid on the armrest in a fierce grip as your fingers interlaced with those of another, the other hand tangled in his hair.

Bare thighs held apart by Andy’s shoulders wedged in between, a large hand pressing firmly against the flesh of your inner thigh as if burning a brand, his tongue licking deep into your pulsing channel, his beard the most delicious burn against your sensitive folds, his groans and your moans mingling in music of eager lovers, head thrown back with your throat raw from the cries of his name.

“Andy, please-“

The potent jolt of pleasure in your core snapped you back to reality with a gasp on your lips, furious blinks focusing your vision back to Andy’s face; there was a gleam in his eye, but it was his smile, so genuine as he squeezed your fingers reassuringly, so damn gentle and completely unaware of how aroused and wet you were, that had you feel a pang of shame in your gut.

What was wrong with you-

“Like you deserve. You deserve so much better and so much more, little bird.”

You deserve everything.

I will give it to you.

You’re mine to keep and cherish-

“Thank-- thank you,” you stuttered out, head swimming with the echoes of the poignant image, swearing you could feel brands tenderly burned into your skin where Andy had touched you, a tingle in your core as he tasted you so indulgingly, an echo of his beard burning your intimate flesh--- except Andy had not done either of these things outside of your messed-up head.

“Nothing to thank for, little bird,” he said, a lopsided smile adorning his lips even as his brows creased in a soft frown. “We’re missing something here. How would you feel about cookies with your tea?”

Staying for another cup of tea was a terrible, wonderful idea.

Basking in Andy’s presence with his attention focused solely and so unwaveringly on you flushed your cheeks with heat and kept stirring the barely containable explosive attraction to him; but worst of all, it lowered your inhibitions bit by bit, your confidence, as shaky as it was these days, growing under his touch and seemingly genuine interest.

Interest in you.

You had long abandoned the idea of him viewing you as completely pathetic; and with each inch of space between you disappearing, your heartbeat was picking up. With each half-smile, with every question about what you considered the most boring cliché parts of you, you were being pulled into his orbit, intrigued by the lack of sharing information about himself all the more.

“I’m not all that interesting, little bird,” he said when you asked. Instead of an answer, you were gifted another inch of distance erased, his stormy blue eyes boring into yours. “I’d rather hear all about you.”

He was a beautiful puzzle; and the more enigmatic he appeared in comparison to you as you stripped a layer after layer of yourself, the more you craved to figure him out.

And with every entry into his mind kindly denied, you found yourself craving to explore him in the physical world then at least.

To feel the muscles of his arms shift under your palm, to confirm his lips tasted as sweet as the tea he had been drinking with you, to find out just how much of a mark his beard could leave behind when his lips trailed down the column of your throat, over the sensitive skin of your thighs. The need burned within you, causing you to shift in your seat several times already in search for friction, your body almost beyond your control as you turned your still connected hands so your smaller one covered the back of his, most of your willpower focused on not slipping your fingers under the hem of Andy’s sleeve to brush your fingers over his forearm, the very forearm you could almost feel pressing against your throat softly as he pushed you against the wall and drove into you with wild abandon, over and over until your knees could not hold you-

“Give me something, Andy,” you asked, fighting to keep your voice steady as you felt your breathing quickening again with the unholy images painted in your head. “What do you enjoy doing? What is your favourite meal, favourite colour, season even… scent or taste?”

Oh honey, you know my favourite taste.

I’ll have you taste it on my tongue once I’ve had my fill.

A scorching shudder rushed down your spine, your hand automatically reaching for your cup as your throat turned dry for the n-th time in Andy’s presence.

“I enjoy working with herbs,” he admitted after a while, an absent, fond note to his voice. “Essential oils. Natural remedies. Teas and… others--- What?”

For the first time in a while, his words did not provoke a visceral reaction; not the kind that kindled the crackling heat within you. Rather curiosity and admiration, your smile softening without your permission.

“I know you said you’ve made the tea… hell, probably the essential oil for the bath too.” He nodded in confirmation, tilting his head slightly in curiosity. “It’s just… I would have never guessed. You…”

“What is it?”

You chuckled, shaking your head, worried you’d offend him not by your thoughts, but by your clumsiness. But a squeeze on your hand encouraged you gently, having you lick your lips as you gathered your scattered thoughts.

They all seemed so scattered in the past hours, gathering only for all of them to be pulled to Andy and the intense stormy gaze of his.

Storm. Danger and freedom. Freedom to be.

“It’s silly, you just… you seem like the kind of person whose mind is always racing. This… quiet force, keeping to yourself, intelligent, so strictly rational,” you tried to explain, already feeling like you were failing.

“Are you saying I’m a madman for my interests, little bird? A charlatan?”

Something flashed in his eye, but not angry; challenging almost, tantalizing, making your breath hitch.

Try me, honey.

Oh? Look at you, giving up so easy.

Giving yourself up to me.

You shook your head, both to erase the sultry voice in your head and the sinful images it painted and to deny Andy’s words.

“No. I’m saying many people would argue that trusting herbal remedies and nature’s healing power is everything but rational. But-“

“But you are not one of those people, are you?” he finished for you, a slow smile spreading on his lips, just a hint of condescending that seemed to pull you in closer despite your better judgement. “You know better than that, little bird, don’t you?”

Let me, honey.

Let me and I’ll teach you all you need to know.

You gulped, willing your lips curl up in a smile. “I do. That’s why I keep coming back from the city. Nature will always feel like home.”

Andy hummed, a satisfied smirk that felt like a lick straight up your core settling on his lips, causing your free hand to curl in a fist at the sudden blissful assault on your senses--- gods what was happening with you?

“Speaking of power… you called me a quiet force. What did you mean by that?”

Caught off guard in more ways than one, you cursed the slip of his--your tongue.

“Well, I didn’t mean that as a bad thing-”

“Explain it to me then, little bird,” he coaxed, gaze hypnotizing you, seeing so deep you were sure he was becoming aware of the effect he had on you, if he hadn’t known the whole time, that goddamn smirk of his almost wolfish, a taunt you desperately wanted to respond to as your body had been for hours now. “If it’s not bad, what is it?”

It was obvious it had to be the opposite then; but he wanted you to say it. There was no denying the heady tension in the room, setting your skin aflame; there was no denying he was flirting and he was not at all subtle about it anymore and yet, the cold silver of insecurity whispered to you that you should hold back, hold up the last defence before he could destroy you completely.

“Sometimes… there’s power in silence,” you whispered, honestly and yet evasively. “It makes words even more powerful then.”

He considered your words for a moment, gaze flickering down to your lips, your tongue instinctively flicking out to wet the sudden dryness.

“So you’d rather we sit in silence?”

But you make such beautiful noises for me.

Don’t hide from me.

Let me hear it all.

You were going to suffocate.

You were going to suffocate if Andy’s hand didn’t move, didn’t grasp your wrist and pulled you up, his body colliding with yours so your lips could meet and he could drink the answer straight from your mouth just for his other hand to sneak between your bodies to tease and taunt you with his fingers, sliding so easily into your sweatpants, his clothes like a claim on you, more of a claim to have them pool at your feet as his fingers finally breached you-

Your breaths were coming out short despite your efforts to slow them down, your core pulsing as if you had been kept on the edge of bliss for hours, knowing the feeling all too well despite never having had a lover attentive enough to bother with even five minutes.

“Not-- not quite. I like… talking to you.”

“Mmm, me too. Why is that?”

You shrugged with a shaky smile, shifting in your seat and rubbing your thighs together as his voice, that damn voice, Andy’s and the sultry one in your head sounding just like him, felt like a relentless teasing in its own right.

“I--- I like hearing what you have to say. And I… like your voice. It’s warm… gentle.”

And sinful. Powerful.

So powerful you could command me to get on my knees for you and I would, without a single thought, stripped bare if you wished so, lips parted for you and awaiting, dripping down my thighs like I am now, pleading for you to use me, basking in your possessive touch, gentle or rough or both, crying my voice hoarse when begging for more-

The potency behind your own thoughts had you jump to your feet with a loud scrape on a chair that seemed to barely rattle Andy as you slipped from his grasp, his gaze simply following you, the smile remaining on his lips.

“I should go-“

He straightened in his chair, forearms leaning onto the table, his sleeves riding up just an inch, the silver of skin causing your head spin with the urge to touch it, to lead him to lay it over your own throat as you’d walk backwards toward a wall-

“Stay, little bird. It’s already dark and… don’t you want a reprieve from the chaos, from the terrible behaviour of your relatives?” he questioned, both reasons somehow seeming like but an afterthought. “You should stay. I have a guest room if that’s what you’d like.”

But I don’t think you do.

I think you want something else.

All you need is to ask, honey.

Ask and I’ll make sure gods themselves hear your cries when you shatter for me over and over and still beg for more.

“I-“

He reached out for your wrist, long fingers circling it easily and pressing just a little.

The touch rushed through you like a wildfire, whiting out your vision.

A large sculpted body covering yours, lips drinking hungrily and sharing the sweet tangy taste on his tongue as you whimpered, craving more and more and more. One hand circled around your wrist to keep your hand pinned next to your head, his free hand roaming, pinching, squeezing, until it settled on your hip, grabbing firmly to guide you as he thrusted into you, so deeply and fully, his tongue wickedly exploring your mouth and swallowing your every plea to never stop, his name the only thing in your mind and on your lips, your other hand fisting the sheets as you desperately tried to meet his thrusts halfway; to have him reach deeper, to own you, to mark you, to make you his, only you, only him, always.

The pleasure pulsed within you as strong as if you were just there, nearly causing your knees to buckle, your hand barely catching onto the edge of the table.

And all of sudden all you could see was Andy’s face, smirk wiped off to make space for concern as he towered over you, one hand firmly holding yours while the other carefully rested on your hip to support you.

“Are you alright, little bird?”

No. No you weren’t.

You were losing your goddamn mind and he was not helping and you should go whether it was dark or not, because if you didn’t, you’d grab Andy by the hem of his stupidly ordinary shirt that was hiding the most delicious body and you’d kiss him deep, begging him to do to you all the things your mind had conjured in his presence, pleading him to have you however he’d like, to use your body in the most depraved ways he could think of.

“I’m fine,” you choked out, stepping back hastily and on instinct beaten into you – verbally and more than once literally – since childhood, you grabbed your empty cup and walked to the sink, feeling Andy’s worried and bewildered gaze on the back of your head as you started the water.

The worry etched into his gaze just before you escaped his grasp – so genuine and kind – made you wonder just how out of your mind you were.

How much of the flirting you had imagined as an aftermath of hearing a voice so painfully similar to his giving you promises dripping with sin? How much of it had been real? Your own body was your worst enemy, betraying your attraction to the man who hadn’t hesitated to help you, respectful when he had had all the chances to take advantage---

Just how much of his actions had been sincere, nothing but selfless aid to a person in need, that your brain had twisted into a desire of his to mirror your own?

Your hands trembled as you washed the cup, the echoes of pleasure still travelling through your body, now soured with doubt and fear of your own wild imagination.

Andy’s warm presence behind you made your breath hitch, tension building in your back as all your body called for was to drop the damn ceramics and lean back to his front, rubbing like a cat in need of affection, to grasp his hand and lead it to the apex of your thighs and just press to relieve some of the painful throbbing. He reached around you to stop the water as you stood taut like a bowstring about to snap, feeling his breath fan over your cheek, your lips parting to taste it on instinct, eyes falling shut.

Please, you wanted to whisper or scream, not sure what you would beg for. Just please.

“No, little bird… queens don’t do the dishes. Less so when they are guests in my house.”

You gulped as you felt him take the cup from your now motionless hands, setting it down carefully to the sink, the heat radiating off his chest too much to bear.

“I’m… not a queen.”

The words were meant to be filled with humour, self-deprecation even, but you barely spoke at all, throat almost too tight to get the words through.

“I will treat you like one,” he promised, a tempting rumble in his chest, his lips mere inch from your burning skin, his beard scratching it just slightly, sending you spiralling into madness. “If you let me.”

Let me, honey.

Let me break you in ways you didn’t know you always yearned to be broken and then put you back together.

Ler me claim you.

And fuck, you should go.

You really, really should go, but as you opened your eyes, catching a glimpse of your reflection in the window, your eyes wide and cheeks flushed as if you had a fever, his presence the problem and the remedy at once, you couldn’t will your feet to move.

As if trapped in his orbit as he watched you in the reflection too, eyes as dark and burning as coal, his gravity pulled you in; you turned your head towards him, hesitantly meeting his gaze, instantly finding yourself trapped in it.

Scorching heat licked at your core, spreading through your veins like a wildfire when his fingers traced along your jaw, lips hovering so close to yours as if still asking permission and yet, his thumb pressed against the corner of your mouth as if he was the one who couldn’t contain himself. You shuddered violently at the simple touch, your muscles clenching harder as not to fold and lose your last crumbling defences.

Why resist, little bird?

You’re already mine, aren’t you?

Always have been.

“Stay, little bird. Stay and I’ll show you how you deserve to be treated… loved on,” he coaxed, gaze flickering to your lips having pressed in thin line to contain the whimper threatening to spill; his thumb brushed over your lower lip and tugged lightly, leaving no hope for the next needy sound not to escape. Gods, the spark of lust in his eye, the satisfied drop in his voice at seeing your body betray your desire, gravitating towards his. “That’s it. Let me show you how precious you are. How beautiful… how tempting.”

He released your lips from his touch only in favour of skimming his own over your mouth, nothing short of a temptation, as if you weren’t already seduced by the sweet promise alone.

Shock of pleasure rippled through you at the barely-there contact, images flashing though your mind anew, Andy kneeling between your legs as you lied sprawled in the armchair, your body trapped under his so sweetly and torturously as he filled you like no other, his lips devouring you as you laid facing him on the very bed, bandaged hand on your hip, his dextrous fingers sneaking to tease you open for him, his hardness pressing against you, his name a breathless plea falling from your lips.

And as the mirages dispersed, the throbbing need stayed.

“Please,” you heard yourself whisper and for the second time today, the dam broke, letting all you had been keeping for what felt like eternity spill out without control.

The second his lips fully pressed to yours, you were lost and felt finally found.

Explosive desire all but set you aflame as his hand moved to your hip to spin you just so he could corner you against the sink, his other hand grabbing the back of your neck to keep you steady.

And fuck did you need to be kept steady, because his lips didn’t explore carefully; he devoured you right away, your desperate whimper swallowed by his tongue licking into your mouth, your hands having somehow scrambled to grip the fabric of his shirt and fisting it as you pulled him even closer, every inch where his body touched yours a salvation by hellfire; every empty space between you like icy winds. 

Coming out for air felt like drowning in the frozen lake all over again, body only warmed by Andy’s lips tracing a burning path down your throat, the zipper of your hoodie tugged down, fabric pushed aside to reveal the painfully stiffened nipples under the thin fabric of the henley, a satisfied groan vibrating against your carotid as Andy cupped your breast and flicked his thumb over the hardened peak.

He might have as well relentlessly played your body for hours, the surge of pleasure causing your hips to meet his in a frantic search for more, your head spinning. You were burning. You were burning and you were cold and you were going to lose your damn mind unless he spun you around, tore your clothes away and filled you up with his cock this very fucking second-

“Andy, please-“

“Please what, little bird?” he chuckled darkly, the scrape of his beard and the huff of air against your throat unfairly spine-tingling.

His hand sneaked under the henley, fingertips brushing over your belly, over your ribs, squeezing your flesh higher and higher, his other hand carding into your hair and not quite tugging, but keeping it in a firm enough grip to prevent you from escaping the assault of his mouth on your throat.

As fucking if you wanted to escape this-

“I need you,” you choked out, feeling the desperate tremble in your body.

Somewhere back in your mind was a small voice wondered how you had never needed a man like this, wanted yes, but not like this; you craved him. For this, for his touch, for his mouth back on yours, for a single point of contact you’d claw your way out of hell.

You released the dead grip you had on his shirt just to slide under the fabric and the pulse in your core at finally truly touching him was nothing short of unholy and you needed more.

“Oh honey. What do you need from me?”

He rocked his hips against yours, his hardness pressing briefly against your mound and you whimpered, your knees nearly buckling.

Yes, yes, yes, again-

“Maybe this?” he suggested huskily as he repeated the motion against your arching body, a cry escaping your lips, feverish words you no longer had a control over spilling as the all-consuming fire licked at your insides.

More, more, more-

“Yes. Please--- touch me, take me-- make me yours- please”

Andy stepped back, your body suddenly feeling freezing cold, his hold on your hair easing so you could face him as he stared straight into your eyes – the perfect picture of desire personified with crimson lips curled in a smirk and irises almost swallowed by how wide his pupils were blown. Absurd fear of him rejecting you now, now after he had given you a taste, filled your lungs like icy waters, reluctantly melting as his broad palm made its way down your front torturously slow, fingers almost absently tangling in the laces of your sweatpants as he stopped just so far from where you needed him the most.

He held you gaze just as you held your breath in anticipation, his fingers sliding under the hem of your sweats, under the waistband of the boxershorts and lower and lower as he spoke, the sight of him hypnotizing like eyes of a predator to a willing prey.

“Oh little bird, that is exactly my intention,” he assured you, barely audible over the roar of blood in your ears, your whole body vibrating with need. Please, please, touch me- “But I’ve been a good host, haven’t I? So I think--- fuck, you’re drenched for me, so fucking needy--- that it’s time for me to feast and taste as much of you as I want.”

You didn’t quite hear him over the whine crawling out of your throat as he dipped his fingertips in your slick only to quickly retreat his hand and leave you so torturously empty again.

But gods, he kissed you and you could breathe again even as it wasn’t enough, his grip on your hip steering you to move, to walk backwards, your vision a blur, all your senses swallowed by Andy; his hot lips and skilled tongue, demanding touch echoing your own, grabbing you, searching almost frantically for places he hadn’t explored yet, mirroring your own greedy hands, your sweatshirt lost somewhere on the way as he steered you to the right, your nostrils full of his scent and the sweet aroma of the tea indeed having lingered on his lips—and suddenly you were stumbling and falling, soft landing in Andy’s arm as he lowered you to one of the armchairs, pulling at your sweatpants and boxers at once, his touch finally back where you craved it more than anything you ever had in your damn life, his name a broken prayer on your lips.

And then his lips were gone from yours, trailing down your neck, a graze of teeth that made you see stars, his thumb circling your sensitive bud and causing your hips to jerk into his hand, a sweet chuckle dripping of sin filling your ears.

“So responsive, little bird, so needy… don’t worry, I’ll give you what you need,” he vowed, your eyes opening half-mast only to witness him retreat and sit back on his heels, his hands planted on your knees, mouth attaching to your inner thigh just above your knee, a poor substitute to the taste of heaven his thumb had offered you.

He was tormenting you; he was tormenting you, denying you what you craved, not only stalling but stalling further, his mouth leaving hot wet trail up your drenched inner thigh, the sensitive flesh burning under the soft scrape of his beard, your legs spreading in mute yet urgent plea. And still, he continued indulgingly slow; your hand twitched as to move and give yourself some relief, but an instinct warned you that it could only prolong your torture.

“Andy-“

He smiled at you from where he had just pressed a bruising kiss to your flesh, eyes dark as the night itself, glimmering in the dancing flames of the fireplace reflecting on the goddamn mug you had spied earlier too, reminding you of how his lips had touched the edge of his cup with indulgence, how he had met your gaze as if he had known, as if he had known already he was about to drink from you.

It was not enough; nothing was enough, and you shifted in his grip, your hips sliding lower on the chair, core pulsing in emptiness.

“Please, please, Andy, don’t keep me waiting, I need you-“

One of his warm palms sprawled over your lower belly, pressing hard to keep you still, his tongue licking a languid stripe up your skin glistening with your juices, and he was so so so close-

“Fuck, honey, you taste so sweet… such a vision, begging for me so prettily.”

You didn’t recognize your voice as you sobbed in frustration of being praised in vain when he didn’t touch you when you NEEDED IT--- and then you were throwing your head back as wave of ecstasy washed over you, Andy finally flicking his tongue over the cut of you.

You grabbed the armrests with such vigour you might worry about breaking it had you not been delirious with want, hips bucking forward and this time, Andy had mercy on you – he groaned at the taste of you, licking with indulgence, twisting his tongue just right, his hold on you easing as the pressure inside you built and built and you were meeting his advances with enthusiasm, your hand finding purchase on his hair, to ground yourself, to beg him to continue without words because you had no voice.

You were tittering on the edge of release, every single cell in your body singing praise to Andy’s name for the waves of bliss almost reaching you, when his hand found yours and tore it from the armrest, fingers interlacing with yours and squeezing.

You would have never thought that could be your undoing, but it was.

Stars exploded in your veins and you tasted stardust on your tongue, a raw cry torn out from your throat, your back arching as white-hot pleasure shot down your spine and curled in your core with the heat of supernova being born.

And it wasn’t stopping. Andy wasn’t stopping, instead he pushed harder against your hips as you writhed against the overwhelming sensations, his tongue curling and breaching you, tasting the very depths of you and your cries were a breathless plea to the gods to have mercy on you and to Andy to give you more and more and more-

His pleased groan resonated in your bones, the force of bliss nearly shattering them to dust for the winds to take; but instead, Andy’s grip on your body moulded them into something torturously  beautiful and divine, the sound pulled from your lips nearly unhuman as you fell apart, the world tilting from its axis and balancing on the only steady point of the damn universe, on his hold on you, his tongue gathering proves of your undoing with lustful glee, his thumb drawing circles and swirls over your hipbone in silent approval.

By the time his mouth finally retreated, you were shaking, chest rising and falling in rapid successions, your vision blurry with tears as he rose to his feet and released your hand in favour of cradling your wet cheek, the forefinger of his other hand following the salty path of your tears, painting your swollen lips with them tenderly.

Even with vision unfocused, you were all too aware of the straining fabric of his pants, of the lustful glimmer in his eyes, lips shining with your arousal curling in an almost sweet smile.

“You’re stunning when you fall apart for me, little bird. Even more so than I imagined,” he declared softly, so painfully softly you couldn’t but whimper at the praise, the sound muted as his thumb pressed against your lips much like back in the kitchen, this time pushing its way inside your mouth, gaze zeroing on the eager reaction of your body.

You sucked his finger right in, almost blinding desire bursting in your belly, a carving for just a taste of him, for feeling the weight of him in your mouth as you’d swirl your tongue around him, heady aroma of sex filling your head. You needed. You needed to feel him and your hand acted without your permission, reaching to stroke his hardness, to move to kneel in front of him right there and feel the hard floor against your knees because it wouldn’t matter, it would be fucking privilege to-

Andy’s hand landed on your shoulder, light but firm, his eyes still feasting on you hungrily sucking on his thumb with a heart-stopping smile, tongue sneaking out to lick his lips as you still reached to feel the weight of him in your hand at least, moaning around his finger as the true craving – to have him fill you where it mattered the most – rocked through your entire body.

“So eager, little bird… but not now,” he retreated his hand from your mouth, gently slapping away your hand from him and pulling you to your shaky feet instead, body flush to his, lips on your ear. “You asked me to make you mine and that’s exactly what I’m gonna do.”

You weren’t sure how exactly you got upstairs between stumbling on your boneless feet, your greedy hands and all-consuming assaults of his lips on yours; but what you were all too aware of was how whenever his lips detached from your mouth, you were already missing them as if it had been eons, and when he released you from his hold in order to strip his pants and boxers and to rid you of your top, it made your body cry for his attention all the more.

You had but a glimpse of his length and it made your mouth water, your core pulsing in desperate emptiness all the more painful when he sat on the edge of the bed and you could finally take him in your hand, appreciating the smooth warmth length, precum leaking, inviting you to stroke him and sink onto him right away.

“Come to me, little bird,” he husked, tugging at your wrist to have you straddle his thighs, hand like a burning brand landing on your hip, already pushing you down as if you needed encouragement.

His name fell from your lips like a prayer when you felt the head of his thick cock catch at your entrance, hips bucking in foolish need to take him all at once, to have him fill you to the brim.

“Yes, little bird, I’m right here… look at me.”

His broad palm cradled your cheek, sliding along your jaw to grip just a little too tight and force you to meet his hungry gaze even as your own irises must have glazed over when you slowly begun sinking down on him, satisfaction and greed shooting through your veins and curling in your lower belly, your thighs shaking with effort to hold yourself back.

Until you couldn’t.

With a desperate whimper you pushed your hips flush to his despite the slight tinge of pain, the reward of white-hot pleasure all-consuming, Andy’s groan like the sweetest melody and a soothing caress down your back.

Fuck, he was breath-taking and you could die right there and hell you would die if you didn’t move, didn’t feel the deliciously thick length of him drag slowly through your pulsing walls, driving into you again and again, filling you like no other, slow, fast, deep, sloppy, it didn’t matter, you just needed more, you needed to move, bracing on his broad shoulders, nails digging into his bicep, you needed-

He pressed firmly on your hip to keep you still, your cry of despair at being denied swallowed by his mouth, his smile wicked and addictive, only feeding your desire to feel him more, your muscles straining as you fought to rock your hips just a little, needing the smallest friction like your life depended on it.

And Andy wouldn’t let you.

With strength beyond comprehension, he held your middle in a cage, his mouth having never ceased to devour you as his free hand slid from your face, fingers trailing over your collarbone to your breast, fondling all too briefly as you tried to arch into his touch, before he moved on over your belly, pads of fingers circling in the slick dripping down his length, a languid caress where you were connected like a bolt of lightning down your spine urging you to try and thrust forward only to remain achingly still, a whimper pushing past your lips.

It bordered on cruelty; your core pulsed with such force it almost hurt, every cell in your body as if on fire only Andy could quench but instead continued to tease you, groaning into your mouth as he indulged at the sensation of being sheathed in your throbbing warmth.   

The relief when his fingers retreated was a punishment all the same, the second his touch disappeared your body crying for it to return. His lips detached from yours just as his palm sprawled over your lower belly, so full of him, his voice a rumbling siren’s song as you felt sweat running down your back from the tension taunting your muscles.

“You feel me, honey? Feel how deep I am?”

He watched you with hooded gaze, predator boasting at catching his prey in a deadly trap she so willingly crawled into, your core spasming at the hunger in his dark eyes hypnotizing yours, half-mad with the animalistic desire.

“Yes-“

With a satisfied hum, his hand retreated again, causing you to whimper because no, that was where you wanted him to touch you, you wanted it everywhere, you needed him to keep owning you—

“Fuck-“ you sobbed as his fingers trailed over your throbbing clit, your walls clenching around his length, your abdomen trembling with effort to fight his grip and chase your release. “Andy, please, I-“

“Oh, but this isn’t just about you, honey, is it?” he scolded you gently, hoarse voice dripping sin and satisfaction as he returned to petting the apex of your thighs, the sensitive flesh gripping him like a vice and it was just not enough. “I wonder how long you could keep still on your own if I asked you, how long until you’d beg me-“

Not a second longer was the answer, more so when he twisted his hand so wickedly that long fingers continued teasing your entrance while his thumb circled your clit, agonizing need rushing through you like an electrical current, your whole body arching and yet staying so painfully still, writhing in his hold, tears of frustration gathering in your eyes.

“Please, please, please, please, Andy, love, please-“

His fingers stilled, ceasing their torture and yet it felt like denying you further until just as your sob pushed past your lips, his hand gently cupped your face, so painfully tender it had your wet eyelashes flutter, a sudden reprieve as Andy’s gaze seemed to trapped you outside of time and space and your own body; it felt like a sip of fresh water on an unbearably hot day, his damp fingers tracing the lines of your face, something flashing in his gaze, something you could not hope to comprehend but felt so achingly soft.

“Gods, you’re a vision, little bird, so beautiful… so thoroughly and undeniably mine, aren’t you?” he whispered, something akin to reverence in his voice as he continued to brush his fingertips over your skin as if committing you to memory.

And then he was kissing you; your breath caught at the unspeakable delicacy of the kiss, even his beard feeling softer as his lips carefully danced against yours, almost meekly, as if you could dissipate into thin air if he pressed too hard. The disparity to his previous advances was staggering, your heart fluttering, tears gathering in your eyes for an entirely different reason. He was just so damn soft.

“Andy…”

His smile against your lips was just as delicate as his kiss, your heart stumbling in your chest when you found him observing you with glassy eyes, his thumb, still carrying the heady aroma of your juices, brushing over your lower lip lovingly.

“I’ll give you everything I have, love… can’t seem to deny you,” he mused, one corner of his lips twitching up, his hand slowly sliding down your body, appreciating every inch of flesh in its path, his touch growing firmer as he went, his lips nearing yours again, his deadgrip on your hips releasing at last, speaking his next words directly to your mouth and angling the world from its axis all over again. “Take what you need, little bird.”

The words cut through you like a bolt of lightning, burning through every fibre of your being at once, the violent desire having been building through the past hours slamming into you at once, twice as hard, impossible to contain.

A breathless scream tore from your throat.

You cried out Andy’s name, your body acting on an animalistic instinct of chasing pleasure now that it finally could, nails digging into his shoulders for support as you rocked your hips against his with wild abandon, head thrown back in ecstasy every drag of his length through your tight walls sparked anew, coil rapidly tightening and undoing in your belly as it wasn’t nearly enough, never enough, more, more, more-

“Fuck--- that’s it, honey, keep going-” he groaned, hand stroking your back slick with sweat, his other hand gripping your ass cheek to guide your movements just the tinniest bit to your mutual pleasure.  

And you listened, chasing an unreachable peak, grasping at Andy’s neck, moving closer to his still maddeningly clothed torso, bouncing up and down, grinding your pelvis against his and it was not enough, not with your hands so firmly planted on his shoulders when your thighs alone quivered with exertion, a rare catch of his shirt against your clit nearly making you see stars and pushing them away from your reach all the same, fingers fisting his shirt in breathy outrage.

“Andy, please-“

“I’ve got you, honey.”

Next thing you knew your head was spinning, your body achingly cold as you were tossed on the bed on your back, Andy’s touch gone; and then he was hovering above you, his warm body completely bare at last, stretching over yours as he sheeted himself in your heat in one single thrust, stretching you to your limit again and feeling like heaven and hell combined.

His mouth captured your needy whimper when he once again remained all too still, one of your hands, having started to explore the god-like body of his, grasped at the wrist and pinned next to your head in an exhilarating display of control, leaving an ounce of it for you too as you jerked your hips against his, over and over, unable and not wanting to stop for even a moment, because you could feel it at your fingertips, the taste of pleasure unparalleled awaiting you when you’d come around his cock and felt him spill inside you.

The thought alone had you writhe under the soothing and yet frustrating weight of Andy’s body, his kiss tinged with amusement before he released your lips, setting them free to chant his name.

“Patience, little bird. I told you I’ve got you.”

And by gods, he did. He did, pinning you to the mattress and driving into your tight channel over and over at almost punishing pace, his hand sneaking between your bodies to swipe up the juices smeared all over your and his thighs and toy with your swollen bundle of nerves, blinding pleasure lighting you alive.

“Yes-“

“You feel like fucking heaven, honey. Will never have enough--- come for me. Give it to me, show me you’re mine-“

Falling apart felt like scorching heat consuming your body, burning every single cell in its wake, a shuddering breath of Andy’s name like a prayer rising from the ashes back to life, his spent filling you to the brim just as you were being reborn.

And so was your need.

You had never felt anything like it, the crushed seeds of logic in your mindless haze whispering of how this shouldn’t be possible, how you should be beyond sated but with every taste, with every peak, each more powerful than the other, your thirst was not quenched but rekindled, your limp body craving more, more, more; more of this, more of Andy, more of anything and you would die unless you’d get it.

You could barely focus your gaze on Andy’s face hovering above yours, a bliss having flushed his cheeks pink and his eyes with tantalizing glimmer, his fingers tender as he pushed your damp hair from your face.

“Please…” you rasped, not recognizing your voice anymore, blood rushing past your ears wildly. “More.”

His smile was soft, a gentle press of his lips to your forehead and the slightest rock of his hips against yours pulling a desperate keen from your parched lips.

“Do you want to be truly mine, little bird?” he asked, his voice grave and raspy as his breath fanned over your face.

“Yes!”

“Truly? Bound to me?” he continued, the words not carrying any meaning, his voice, gods, his voice, like a caress over your inner thigh, like a touch of bliss somewhere deep within you, in your very soul, a promise of endless pleasure. “You’ll be mine, mine to love and keep and protect… and I’ll be yours…”

Anything. Anything, just more, more-

“Yes- Andy, please.”

A peck to your lips, then another to your cheek and one to the corner of your mouth; each sparking a flame licking at your womb, causing your muscles to spasm, your hands, now free of his hold, grasping at him, nails dragging down his back, urging him to move inside you, your hips buckling pathetically as all your energy had been burned out while your need pulsed with life within you all the more.

Please, just-

“Bless you, little bird, I waited for you so long and did not even know… tell me you want me.”

“I want you-“ you sobbed, vainly pulling yourself up to be flush against his body.

“Need me-“

“Need you. Only you- please.”

“As you wish, little bird.”

All of sudden, a flash of ice-cold clarity cut through your haze, an agonizing stutter of your heart in your ribcage.

The low lights of the bedroom reflected on the blade which seemed to materialize in Andy’s hand out of thin air, a gleam of determination in your lover’s eye.

Wincing helplessly under his heavy weight, you squeezed your eyes shut, your life – a good life, not bad at all –flashed before your eyes, a muffled cry of confused want and utter terror escaping your lips as you tried to make yourself as small as possible.

You could feel him shift above you, inside you, the smallest motions sending almost nauseating desire through your body still, tears of overwhelm gathering in your eyes and spilling over as your heart fought for every last beat you’d be given in this life.

You were going to die.

It was the most absurd thought flying through your head, a painful chuckle almost tearing through your lips; you were about to die, mad with arousal for you own murderer and should anyone ever learn, you were going to turn into inspiration for a cautionary tale for the very books you had been reading since you were a child. Or perhaps those on serial killers.

You didn’t want to die!

“N-no, please, please, Andy-“

It was pathetic. Voice hoarse from having pleaded him to fuck you, for more and more and more; it was almost a foreign voice and yet undeniably yours, somehow still laced with devastating desire not to live, but to be ruined by his cock over and over, still thrumming deep within you.

A low grunt and a hiss; droplets of thick warm liquid landing on your forearm, coppery smell tickling your nostrils.

You couldn’t help it; you always had been morbidly curios, hadn’t you?

With a shuddering inhale, you cautiously blinked your eyes open, heart once more skipping a painful beat, your hand twitching to cover your mouth.

Features twisted in mere discomfort, Andy glanced from his right palm – from the crude deep cut on his own palm – to your face, grimacing as if only now his pain registered, eyes wide with something other than lust and satisfaction for once.

Compassion?    

“Don’t worry, little bird. I’ll be gentle and I promise it will hurt for but a second,” he rasped, your body turning rigid with horror. “Stay still for me, love.”

And you did.

Mutely, with but shaky breaths on your part and his, his grasp on your left wrist was shockingly tender as he laid your hand on the sheets, staining your skin with crimson, his blood seeping into the fabric below. His gaze held yours just as gently, something apologetic and warm in the thin ring of blue around his blown pupils.

You inhaled sharply at the sting of pain, a whimper of Andy’s name pushing past your trembling lips and then it was gone. From the corner of your eye, you could see the blade, having appeared so suddenly, disappear just as fast.

Andy’s thumb stroked the heel of your palm, his lips curling softly in a smile, the hand which had held the blade moving to cradle your cheek.

“Are you ready, little bird?”

As the fear slowly dissipated, you left the forgotten hunger for his body creep in slowly, blooming from your core through your belly, your chest, through your limbs all the way to your fingertips and toes, warming every single muscle, every nerve ending, tingling in your lips, growing and growing with every rapid beat of your heart, a shudder rushing up your spine at the gentle onslaught of want.

A single beat of your heart, two, three, four- and then it slammed into you with force of a star being born in midst of chaos, back arching, muscles straining with instinct to continue chasing the carnal pleasure, hips thrusting up as you felt Andy stiffen inside you again with a breathy chuckle.

“Yeah, you’re ready, love,” he hummed, lips slanting over yours, stealing your breath, every minute roll of his hips sending a shock of ecstasy through your system bordering on pain he drank straight from your mouth.

His hold crept from your wrist to your hand, fingers interlacing, palm sticky with blood pressing against your own wound.

You wailed.

The guttural sound rippled through you just as you hit another peak, Andy’s thrusts stuttering with a curse on his lips as your walls gripped him in a vice, your whole body spasming with paralyzing waves of euphoria, tears springing from your eyes.

Your body floated. You’d swear, had you had any control over your lips, that your soul ascended to another plane of existence. Nothing held you chained to earth anymore. You felt free and weightless and full of light, all-consuming but so so warm and soothing you felt a sob tearing from your chest, a distant sensation of your lover – your lover, your love, your everything – spilling inside you, his lips pressed to your throat, his weight on you, his gentle hold on your hand the only things grounding you and wrapping you in an overwhelming feeling of safety. 

Your name, softly spoken; whispers of little bird, tender pets to your hair.

Growing aware of your body trembling in aftershocks, whatever unbearable pressure you distantly remembered crushing you finally released you from its clutches. You opened your heavy eyelids, a blurry image of a stunningly handsome man, Andy, all you could see; and you were at peace with that.

He still held your hand firmly in his, leaning over you, worried gaze roaming your features as you felt your chest heaving with slow ragged breaths.

“Andy…”

“I know, little bird… it was almost too much, wasn’t it,” he whispered, your heavy eyelids slipping shut again, a tender kiss landing on them.

“Mmm… ‘most,” you echoed, exhaustion settling in every fibre of your being now that feeling of deep contentment washed over your body, cleansing you of the insatiable hunger.

“That’s my pretty little bird.”

A brief peck to your forehead was the only warning you got before Andy’s warmth slowly lifted from you, oh so carefully sliding out of you, a vague sensation of your nose scrunching in discontent reaching your brain. He squeezed you fingers too, you thought, but his voice sounded as if from miles away.

“I’ll be right back, honey.”

His retreating steps were the last sound you heard before sleep took you into its merciful arms at last.

You didn’t feel the careful touch of a warm cloth washing away the proves of intense love-making from your most intimate flesh, nor the kiss to your hipbone. You didn’t feel another cloth wiping away the blood from your hand, couldn’t see Andy’s pained frown at the shallow cut on your palm, nor you could hear the hoarse whisper as he traced his fingertips over your wound, erasing it without trace, a weak smile passing his lips.

No one but him could see him even as he felt thousands of judging eyes on him when he walked back to the bathroom, washing the blood off of his hands and tearing away a strip of clean cloth to wrap around his own palm, tightening it more than necessary with every tug, the throbbing pain only justified; a fraction of punishment that should be inflicted on him, a lump growing in his throat as he dreaded and couldn’t wait to walk back and lay on his bed, sharing it with someone after endless years of solitude.

Leaning his hands on the sink with a shaky exhale, he hung his head low even as something so light and beautiful thundered in his ribcage, fingers flexing, the fresh wave of pain pushing him to look up. The face starring at him from the mirror was one of a selfish monster; a selfish monster craving love just like any other being with hot blood pulsing through its veins.

He just wanted to love and be loved. Was that really so wrong of him?

It didn’t matter anymore; he’d made his choice and made yours as well.

Stepping back into the bedroom, he found you sound asleep, somehow having turned to your side, facing the door as if you eagerly awaited his return and the dreams took you too early. The frown on Andy’s face softened, something sweet humming in his heart, the lump in his throat releasing just a bit at how peaceful you appeared.

Circling the bed, he stretched alongside your body, propping on his elbow to feat his eyes on you.

You glowed with wild beauty, hair a soft tangled mess around your head, skin still flushed, kiss-swollen lips parted, bare skin of your tempting body enticing him to touch.

My little bird.

I’ll keep you safe.

I’ll keep you warm.

You deserve everything and I will give it to you.

You are mine to love and cherish and protect.

With a sigh releasing the immense pressure in his ribcage, he brushed his lips over his fingertips before bringing his forefinger to the side of your neck. Drawing tender lines, his touch trailed to your nape, down your neck, over your shoulder blade and shoulder, a swirl of ink left in its wake reaching gently over your collarbone almost to your breastbone. Curls as delicate as your soul, thin petals of wild flowers and trees; and surrounded by the beauty of nature, a little swallow.

Content with his handwork, pressing a soft kiss to your nape, Andy laid himself behind you, arm wrapping around your waist to pull you flush to his chest, your soft warm body moulding into his perfectly as if it was always meant to be.

He draped covers over you both to keep you warm as he had promised.

Slowly pulled into consciousness by fingers carding through your hair as gently as if threading through dreams, you felt your lips curl in a brief smile, the sensation of a warm firm body wrapped about you protectively rousing you from your sleep with finality.

Just as slowly, the events of yesterday came back to your memory like an echo, echo of freezing-cold water, all-consuming need and overwhelming relief found in Andy’s arms, in Andy’s bed.

That was where you were, feeling just as relieved; just as light even as sleep still weighted your body, delaying your movements and making them sloppy, your hand landing ungracefully on Andy’s chest, his quiet chuckle causing you to purse your lips and finally will your eyes to open.

The first sunrays were peeking through the bedroom window, casting light to the warm space, illuminating Andy’s form from behind and giving his tousled hair almost supernatural glow; and yet it was nothing compared to the soft glow in his eyes as he watched his fingers toy with your hair, as his gaze met yours, dreamy, with a tinge of concern.

“Good morning,” he husked, voice warm and gentle like a cup of coffee on a cold winter afternoon.

“Gd mornin’,’” you muttered in response, causing a brief smile pass his lips, before his brows drew together, his dark blues roaming all over your face, his fingers trailing down your cheek.

It was a little unnerving, the attention, your awareness of just how much of a mess your appearance had to be after a long wild night spent tangled in the sheets insistent in your mind; and the fact you were still completely naked safe for the duvet Andy must have covered you with did not help your case.

He did not seem to mind.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like a changed woman,” you replied without as much as a thought, only to be surprised how true the words were.

You did feel different; transformed, for the lack of a better word. A huge weight you hadn’t been aware you had been carrying seemed lifted, aches and worries in your heart and mind soothed, the only ache remaining being a pleasant reminder of last night. One brief flash of fear; a memory of a blade and blood, yours and Andy’s – but where you could see a cloth wrapped unceremoniously around his hand, you realized you could flex both of your hands without as much as discomfort.

Before you could ask – why your hand carried no mark while Andy’s carried a potentially still bleeding mark of something you did not understand and yet seemed to understand better than yourself – he spoke, hesitance lacing his voice.

“Well… you are. You are mine,” he whispered.

The thought sent a surge of warmth through your chest, a smile unwittingly spreading on your lips. Feasting your eyes on the man who had indeed made you yours quite thoroughly, his unfairly handsome features made you almost oblivious to how quiet and shy he sounded; and how fast his heart thundered under your palm.

“You’re bound to me now, little bird, as I am to you. Forever.”

Forever mine.

Forever yours.

You blinked, unsure what he meant and yet; the sincerity and gravity of his words left no doubt that he was sharing a profound truth. A quiet, powerful presence of an ancient entity not to fear but certainly respect hummed in the depths of your ribcage.

In your silence, Andy moved his hand so the pads of his fingers now laid tenderly over your collarbone, instinctively drawing your gaze, air catching in your throat in awe.

Dark indigo-like ink adorned your skin, stretching from the curve of your shoulder as far as you could see over your collarbone and cleavage, a breathtaking piece or art; a love letter to nature etched onto your body in simple precise lines without shading. You heart raced in your chest as you reached out cautiously, fearing the tattoo you did not remember getting might disappear.

It did not; but images filled your mind, images of your bare body standing in Andy’s bathroom, your back to the mirror, glancing over your shoulder and marvelling at the intricate pattern, delicate leaves and swirls as if protecting a small bird; a swallow.

The astonishment stayed within you as your gaze refocused on the inked skin of your chest, your mind a whirlwind of confusion. You would say with certainty you had never stood in the bathroom like that nor admired the tattoo; and yet, you were absolutely sure, somehow, that this was what your back now looked like, this was what you would see if you walked to the mirror and made the image true.

Your stomach fluttered, a tingle of caution; and still, no matter how much you tried to make sense of why, you were not scared. Curious, rather; fascinated even.

Glancing up at Andy, you found him watching you closely, his eyes brimming with careful hope and expectation of a blow to his face at once.

“How?” you breathed out, his unhappy grimace deepening.

The sight twisted your heart.

You were lost; and yet it seemed he was the one needing guidance and support and all you yearned for was to give him exactly that.

As you placed your hand on his cheek, already missing the sensation of his heartbeat, his eyes fluttered shut, a shaky inhale rattling his ribcage. He nuzzled into your touch, a soft scratch of his beard against your palm. His hand slid to your waist, fingers flexing briefly as he met your gaze, his eyes a storm of emotion.

“A bonding like that… requires three elements of a body; saliva, seed and blood. Once exchanged, along with your consent and with the drop of potion in your tea… we belong together now, little bird. And… there’s no force on the earth that could tear us apart.”

Your pulse skyrocketed at the gravity of his words.

It sounded terrifying; it sounded definitive.

It sounded wicked.

And it sounded right.

It should scare you, a low voice whispered in the back of your mind, but it was drowned in the melody of your heart finally finding peace.

Forever. No force on Earth that could tear us apart.

The echo of the voice having been with you ever since you fell through the ice and nearly drowned washed over you sweetly; if felt like coming back to a safe harbour after years and years spent on a raging sea.

You didn’t understand technicalities; you did not understand at all. But you understood how the fact this was right was everything that mattered.

That and the fact Andy was watching you now, perhaps even more overwhelmed than you, awaiting your reaction to the confession because that was what this was. A confession. No matter what his words would have said, the weight of his transgression was written in his cerulean eyes.

And your heart ached and called for his.

Sliding your hand to his nape, you shifted closer, slow enough to see his eyes widen and lit up with hope before you brushed your lips over his, a pained sound in the back of his throat almost making you stop; until his fingers flexed in the flesh of your waist and gripped, pulling you flush to his chest, free hand sliding under your cheek to angle your head and deepen the kiss, your lips parting in invitation and a plea.

Like a spark of life to your body; like a drop of the most precious of wines on your tongue. Exhilarating. Addicting.

“Oh little bird…”

The soft cautious voice turned warmer, lighter and heavier with desire all the same as both his and your hands began to roam, every touch like sunbeams shining from within your bones, your body arching against him in instinctive search for bliss.

“What if they come looking for me?”

Andy smiled as you blurted the question, licking into your mouth instead of an answer and making you keen, the hold on your hips encouraging you to meet the roll of his own.

“They’ll never find you, love. This house does not exist in the earthly realm, not for most of the year… don’t worry, little bird.”

That piece of information should worry you, yet you could not bring yourself to care enough; instead, the tingle in the back of your mind whispered of earthly plane and other realms, of forces beyond comprehension, tales remembered from childhood of unhuman entities coaxing people into their grasp with a promise of what their heart craved.

Feeling the thunderous heartbeat under your palm, the warmth and firmness of Andy’s body, there was no denying how wonderfully alive and human he was; and yet, words of potions and bonds and forevers were telling a different tale.

“What are you, Andy?”

Another smile, mischievous as his touch trailed down your chest over your belly, along your hipbone, grasping the back of your thigh to lift it so he could slot one of his muscular legs between yours, the delicious friction against your rapidly dampening core causing your thoughts to scatter.

“Does it matter?” he whispered to your ear, teeth nibbling under your earlobe, drawing a whimper from your lips.

No. No, it did not. The one thing he was was devious, his lips chaining one kiss after another along your throat, your head thrown back as your nails dug into his back.

“I’ve had many different names, little bird. The only one that will ever matter to me is the one falling from your lips as you shatter for me again.”

The image was almost palpable, Andy’s soft hair in your fingers as he lifted you towards the stars and yet; another question, much more urgent, cold fingers of doubt creeping along your spine, threatened to put the flames of bliss igniting in your body out at once.

Forever was a long, long time, no matter how much of a hyperbole Andy could have used.

And in your experience, men did not love for even half of it or less and chose their forever with much more care than he had.

“Why me?”

Andy’s body turned rigid for a moment, safe for his head snapping up to search your gaze, the wheels in his head turning as he tried to decipher your tone.

You willed yourself to hold his serious gaze even as your heart raced, worried you had overstepped; worried you might get what you bargained for. Heartbreak.

Whatever Andy found in your gaze – be it pride or desperation – it drew a sigh from his lips, his touch retreating from your intimate flesh in favour of grasping your hand and linking his fingers with yours.

“The moment you fell into water… I knew you were mine and always had been,” he said slowly.

Your breath hitched, threading uncertain waters again, in more ways than one.

The moment you fell into water… he knew. Whatever that meant. The moment you fell-

The moment you heard him for the first time. The voice, even as it had been veiled with mystery at first, the voice you later recognized as his own pleading for you to fight. The very moment…

“I… I think I heard your voice,” you whispered, certain you’d find laughter in his eyes, because what you were saying was absurd, a figment of imagination of an extremely stressed mind, but there was no trace of it. Not at all.

Warmth, yes. Humour? Not in the slightest.

“Yes, that’s possible.”

“But… how? Why?”

Sighing again with a gentle squeeze to your fingers, he let his other hand wander, soft pads of his fingers brushing over your skin, following the lines of your tattoo with his touch and sight alike, speaking lowly, almost absently.

“Time is an illusion, little bird. An elaborate one, but only an illusion. On Christmas Day, the veil surrounding it is the thinnest – that is why people who come to the blessed lake on Christmas Day and cut though the ice do glimpse their future. Those who fall in… they literally soak their body in the ability.”

“Ability…?” you echoed weakly, your breaths coming out shorter as intangible weight settled in your chest. “Ability to… glimpse into the future? No, that’s not--- not-”

Flashes. Images of you looking over your shoulder, a precise picture of a tattoo you had yet to see, Andy kneeling between your legs as you laid sprawled in the armchair, his body draped over yours, hand pinned next to your head, his bandaged hand on your hip as his lips devoured you on this very bed-

“Little bird?”

You opened your mouth, no sound coming out, your head spinning as the images replayed in your head, over and over, hazy and yet sharp, details you could have not imagined, not truly. “I-- yesterday, I saw these… flashes, I was sure they were-”

You gulped, cheek flushing with heat at the admission, your gaze fixed on Andy’s chest, unable to meet his eye until his fingers slid under your chin, tipping your head back just a bit, his gaze intrigued – and serious.

“…fantasies.”

A little smirk passed over his lips, a flicker of mischief that soon gave way to something softer and graver. “But they weren’t, were they?”

You shook your head, even as the glaring truth was only now dawning to you.

“I saw this too. I think? Maybe. Your injured hand… and I think I saw-- I have a swallow on my back, don’t I?”

His eyes widened, a speckle of pride in his gaze as he slowly nodded.

“Yes. I’m sorry, little bird, I know it’s difficult. From what I know it is hard to make sense of these images. Those who bath in the lake at the sacred time…” he trailed off, a frown twisting his gentle expression, another sigh leaving his lips. “If they survive, they are bound to fall into madness, the strain on their mind too great.” 

Your heart stopped.

It must have, because the sudden stab of ice-cold fear tore straight through it, blood crystalizing in your veins.

You couldn’t breathe. A few words and the icy waters of the lake surrounded you all over again, filling your lungs with thousands of needles, the glassy shards all around you pulling you under, pulling you down, down, down-

“But--- but does that-“

And just as fast, a warm firm grip pulled you back up, a protective cage of hands cradling your face, gentle and steady, your vision reducing to pair of fiery blue eyes.

“No. No, because you are mine. We are far from the earthly realm and you are bound to me the most potent way there is. And if, if that’s not enough, I will find a way to protect you even if it’s the last thing I ever do.”

I’ll keep you safe.

I’ll keep you.

I’d never hurt you.

You’ll be mine, mine to love and keep and protect and I’ll be yours.

Your heart was soared, tears gathering in your eyes at the warmth radiating from Andy’s palms alone. There was no space for doubt left whatsoever. His blazing determination would scorch the entirety of the earthly realm he had spoken of and leave nothing but ashes if it meant keeping you safe.

And that, that was exactly what made no sense; because you had not encountered a single human being in your whole damn life that would feel a fraction of the affection Andy seemed to harbour for you in less than a day.  Nothing was as real as his hands on you, as the sweet ache in your body from yesterday, and yet this, this could not be real.

“Why? Why of all people, why would you choose-”

“I told you,” Andy said, just as passionately, pleading for you to understand. “You fell and I knew better than anything that you were mine and always had been.”

You didn’t understand. But perhaps you did. Or you would.

Perhaps that was what he meant when he said time was an illusion; right now, you did not know, but you would and that was all that mattered, because you might as well know already.

Your head spun, pressure building behind your eyes and yet you could not tear your gaze away from the soft storm in Andy’s eyes.

Let me, honey.

Let me and I’ll teach you all you need to know.

“So what… it was fate?” you muttered, the words, yet again, absurd to your own ears.

Andy smirked, the expression so out of place and so perfectly fitting to his handsome face your stomach made a little somersault. Releasing you from his grip, he simply continued to cradle your cheek as his other hand began to toy with your hair, his smile softening as you felt yourself relax at the tender yet playful action.

“Fate is a series of deliberate choices, little bird,” he said, letting the strand of your hair fall only to wrap another one round his finger. “I… I made my choices, some of which I am not proud of, and you made yours. You chose to come back to your hometown. Chose to escape the family gathering. Chose to walk to the lake and try your luck looking at the water surface with shy hope – because years ago, when you were still a child, you chose to read a particular book of legends.”

With every word, your heart was picking up again, hammering in your ribcage, your mind latching onto pieces of information Andy could have guessed but spoke with unshakable certainty.

But then, the look in his eye was painfully tender you shuddered at being at the receiving end, thoughts scattering again, reducing themselves to one single thought.

No one. No one had ever looked at you like that.

“Much like you chose to help out a little bird back to its nest when only a child yourself. Chose to release a spirit of a baby swallow mere days after, perhaps even unwittingly calling luck upon yourself that would once find its way to you.”

“How- how do you-”

“I told you. I knew when you fell. Because I got to glimpse beyond the veils of time too,” he explained gently, letting silence stretch, allowing you to process the information that was nothing short of absolutely overwhelming. Mind-blowing.

He had seen; he had seen parts of your life no one even knew about, moments you barely remembered. He knew about a small, meaningless act of kindness years and years ago, he knew-

The sudden realization stuck you like a lightning, a choked sound born in the back of your throat, a breathy whisper.

“Little bird…”

“Yes,” Andy confirmed, just as quiet, gaze glimmering with affection as his fingers moved from caressing your hair to your shoulder, reaching behind you, blindly following lines of a tattoo you knew were there and now knew why. A small swallow amongst the leaves and swirls. “And that’s your why. All these images of your life, past, presence, even future, flashing before my eyes. They showed me all of you. Who you were, how good, how sweet, an innocent soul with faith in forces of nature and beyond… you were perfect. You are perfect, little bird. And I couldn’t let you-- not when I knew what might happen if I--- I knew you were to be mine and I wanted to be yours. I steered you, just a little and I knew it was wrong of me to meddle with your life and I knew I should have let you go… but even when I did, your steps lead to me still and then you were here, and I-”

Your fingers silenced his laments, confession and declaration all at once, a simple touch to his lips working like a charm, his eyes falling shut.

Your heart was beating so vigorously you were sure it would beat its way out of your chest.

There was so much to process, so much to feel, so much to understand and thread through; but at last, you understood two things.

One: this truly was meant to be, be it fate or series of choice or divine intervention.

Two: he needed to stop.

“You saved me.”

Andy shook his head, taking your hand into his and holding it to his chest, lips barely moving as he whispered.

“No and it’s not that simple. My voice and enchantment might have helped, but you saved yourself. And since the moment you did, since you came in, I’ve done things, wicked things to have you-“

You recalled the scorching need for him, the bath, the tea, his touch eliciting visions, little puzzle pieces falling into place, even as the image remained all too incomplete; the puzzle of him, a simple man with something extraordinary throbbing in his soul, a lonely man craving love beyond what you could possibly imagine, tortured way beyond what he had brought upon you yesterday and had soothed all the same and you couldn’t.

You couldn’t but forgive whichever transgressions he had committed if he was beating himself over them and his original intentions were threaded by something soft and pure.

It was your turn to cradle his cheek and wordlessly ask him to look at you and trust you.

Obeying, Andy hung onto your lips, two two pools of cerulean sadness awaiting judgement and asking forgiveness all the same, almost absurdly so, because you had a feeling that should he want to, he could have made you mad for him all over again, a drop of a potion, a flick of a hand, and you’d have no choice but to succumb to him.

But he didn’t.

It only solidified your decision.

“No, Andy. You saved me… your very own little bird,” you added with a smile tugging at your lips. “And maybe calling a little luck upon yourself in the process, I suppose. I—whatever you have done… it only sped up what I would have felt for you either way. And… if I was meant to be yours, if I am yours… then you were meant to be mine.”

A shaky inhale. You had never imagined a man of his built would spoke in such small vulnerable voice, but he did. A single word, tinged with careful hope:

“Yeah?”

“Oh Andy…”

Actions speaking louder than words, you pulled him for a kiss, soft, slow and deep, the softened flame of your desire flaring up again, this time with no doubts or unspoken questions.

His lips tore away from yours with an urgent plea.

“Show me, love.”

“Was trying to,“ you muttered, confused and a little hurt, only for Andy to shake his head and bring your hand to his lips, a tender kiss to your fingertips sending a tingle of electricity rushing through your body all the way to your toes. “Andy, what-”

“Think of us… of a pattern, a mark… much like your tattoo. If I am yours… where would I carry your mark?” he whispered, the fervour in his voice making your heart stutter in your chest.

Oh Andy.

You did not need to think for long; there was only one choice, truly.

As he squeezed your hand, enticing you to touch him as if that was enough to make the pattern appear, his gaze eagerly followed your movements as you carefully brushed over his sternum.

With a breathless chuckle on your lips, you watched the ink of a familiar colour – the colour of your eyes, you realized, only slightly darker, much like your own tattoo mirrored a darker shade of Andy’s eyes – draw a line of the pattern on your mind, perfectly matching your own. Over his collarbone; over the mass of his shoulder; over his shoulder blade.

As you retreated your hand, content with your handiwork, you caught Andy’s soft, so achingly soft gaze, zeroed on your awed smile.

Whatever he was – whatever he was beyond yours – he carried something good and beautiful in his very core.

“Thank you, love.”

A gentle kiss to your fingertips, another little jolt of energy; as he placed your palm over his rapidly beating heart, no ink spilled anymore. Before you could marvel at that, he captured your lips with his, a brief kiss before he sighed with emotion so profound you felt your eyes prickling with tears again.

“I think you saved me, little bird. And I will spend forever by repaying you.”

You didn’t know how long forever was. You didn’t know what awaited you, even as you soon might get a glimpse of it, but one thing you knew for sure.

“There’s no rush, love… we have all the time in the world.”

And in the earthly realm, just as Andy said, as soon as the clock struck midnight on a Christmas Day, the house disappeared from view; along with the woman, once a superstitious kid, carrying her to a happier realm she may never, ever leave.

And with the house was long gone, invisible and untouchable to mere human senses, the only trace of her left was but small droplets of blood on the white bark of a birch tree; giving birth to unearthly crimson blossoms as soon as the first spring sunrays caressed it with its warmth, the ices of the lake melting.

Complete masterlist

Andy Barber and misc masterlist

Phew... You did it! You finished reading!

If you find some time and energy, please, let me know if you enjoyed 🥺 Honest. This is one of my rare soft dark babies and I'm nervous as hell posting this and I obviously spent a lot of time on this one, so... hoe with me? 🥹

Thank you for reading either way 💕

BTW, the book referenced in the story is very much real and used to be one of my favourites as a teen. It’s Kytice by K.J.Erben (translated as A Bouquet of Czech Folktales, I cannot tell if it's a good translation as I haven't got my hands on it; or biligual version simply called Kytice).

P.S. everything is a oneshot if you post it in one go 😌🤭

[jacesvelaryons]

I have a request for billy!!! an angst to fluff fic, where the reader gets shot, maybe on the shoulder so its not too severe but billy is just frantic

peace.

masterlist

requests OPEN

a/n: thank you for your request! apologies they’ve been taking long, but hopefully from now on, my requests will be answered more consistently and sooner 🩷

please continue to like, reblog, comment and share what you think as i love to hear feedback/comment on what you think of my content. thanks a lot!

billy the kid x reader

word count: 1.0k workds

summary: Billy fears he may have lost you when you're shot, but he makes it just in time.

You wince every step you make, pulling over your shawl closer over your torso. Only a few more steps, you assure yourself. 

Being a schoolteacher at the local school on an abandoned farm house a few missionaries founded a few miles from where you lived with Billy did not make much, but it was honest work. It was what you and Billy deserved running away from the rising tensions in Lincoln, trotting off to a village closer to the Midwest where no one knew who you were and you could start anew. 

It was a quiet, idyllic town of under a thousand people, full of very welcoming locals who accepted you both as newly weds, haphazardly making your vows with the priest before you left when it became too violent and unruly. It was that, or more salacious livelihoods, which gave you a shudder. 

As a newly married couple, the town came together to help you both choose a new home, a simple but suitable old barn, nothing much but enough for comfort. Billy picked up work as a ranch hand to the farm next door, and you were approached by some nuns to help with the new school due to the growing population of little ones with the families moving in the growing city. 

Which is why you did not expect during a lesson of arithmetics, a drunken, fractious vagrant barges in the farmhouse, careless with his firearms. You panic, instinct driving you to huddle and protect the children, until help could come to ward him off. Screams,frantic footsteps, cries for help, until two loggers were able to hunt him down and get him under custody with the sheriff and arrest him for questioning. 

You were relieved and grateful all your students were spoken for, but you were not spared, a bullet made its way to your arm before he could be captured. Your headmistress dropped you off on the carriage in front of your home with Billy, ignored her worried look as you strutted home, praying he wasn’t home to see you in this condition. 

Just as you opened the door and sauntered in quietly, you stepped on the loose plank that squeaked, alerting Billy who was having coffee and toast at the dining table. As his eyes met you, his eyes widened seeing the blood trail starting to form from your arm. 

“What happened to you?” 

“I know, don’t panic-”

“How can I not panic, you’re bleeding?! Let me see.” He marches up to you, waiting anxiously for you to take off your shawl and blouse. Billy helps you peel it off, seeing the bullet on your bicep, tugging you gently towards the couch. 

Billy agitatedly goes through the cabinet searching for his first aid kit, or the basic stitches, needles, and bandages he could have acquired before you both absconded to the new town. 

“We have to call the town doctor, love. I can’t believe they let you walk out like that.” 

You looked down sheepishly, realizing he was right. Your tendency not wanting to make a ruckus and stay out of trouble even at the possibility of death or infection would be the end of you. 

“Y-You’re right. I’m sorry.” Billy kisses you on the forehead before he runs out your home, calling out for a doctor to help, or at least some learned healer women if they were predisposed. Not that there were many in this small town, at least more than Lincoln. 

A doctor and his female assistant ran into your home several minutes later, bag in hand to take the bullet out your arm the best they can, and seal up your wounds. 

Billy watches you tensely, feet tapping against the wood floor, arms crossed deep in thought and sweat down his brow as he worries about your well being. You smile weakly at him, even as you grow slightly pale and cool from the pain of the bullet still in your arm. 

“I’ll be fine, darlin’. Don’t you worry, I’m not going anywhere soon. You can’t get rid of me that easily.” You assure him, reaching for his hand with your unhurt arm, tightening your grip around his, a teasing undertone to your voice. He chuckles slightly, the worry still consuming him.

He gets on his knees, pleading with a tight grip on your hands. “You’re a fighter, my girl. Please don’t leave me. “  

“I won’t, my love, I promise.” You take a deep breath as the doctor begins to operate on you and remove the bullet carefully, the morphine and opioid he gave you earlier beginning to kick in. 

Billy is escorted out your humble abode by the assistant, but he refuses to keep his eyes away from you. He refuses to look away ,as if he would lose you if he would. 

To both of your relief, the doctor explains the wound will heal, leaving a scar, that the bullet has been removed and you were lucky it was just a graze, because a few centimeters left, it could have been fatal and hit a major artery. 

He thanks the doctor and his assistant, handing a small bag of coins into their hands before they leave, before he turns back to you, still worried but relief washed all over him. 

“I could have lost you, my sweet. I wouldn’t know what to do without you.” Billy tears up as he caresses your face gently, cradling you close to him in apprehension. 

You lean into him weakly, mindful of the newly stitched up wound on your arm. “I’m not going anywhere, Billy.”

Billy sniffles, wiping his tears as he watches you fondly, relieved you were to recover. 

“Do you know who may have attempted to shoot at me and my students?” 

He nods grimly. “They have, he’s been rounded by the sheriff and won’t cause us any more trouble, darling. I promise, you’re safe, we’ll be safe.” You nodded, tearing up at him as he presses his forehead to yours. 

No one would haunt you or Billy no more. No longer would the ghosts of your past, of violence, of instability, of bloodshed haunt you both anymore. Together, you’d find peace in your small town.   

[morbethgames]

Halloween Special, Current Projects, New Patreon Content

I am so sorry about the radio silence as of late. Between the stuff earlier this week (yes, that stuff), dealing with deaths of people, and university; I've been very busy and mentally drained. However, the good news is, you can play the mini game of The Bureau, "Witchy Woman" right now! The link is at the bottom of this post! Eventually I'll integrate it into the main game, or put it out as potential free DLC or something, but for now there are no stats and it's not tied to choices from the base game.

Tonight is a special case. The MCT has been called in as a favor after finishing up our most recent case. A friend of Kris's reached out, and the local P.D. has let the MCT take the lead on this one. A house party in the beginning of October up in Maine has turned sour. A party-goer has been reported deceased.

We just finished a job, but in this line of work, there's always another case to solve. So here I am, approaching the residence with my team, about to find out exactly what happened on this cold, damp night.

Because it's not part of a bigger game or story, and the only pacing I had to worry about was that of the investigation, this is much more freeflow than other investigations in the main story. Go back and forth between the crime scene, the perimeter of the house, interrogations, and more! The more you discover evidence, the more new options will unlock in conversations, and you have an evidence log in the stats section that updates every time you find out something relevant to the case.

I'm only promoting this now, even though it's been done for a couple of weeks, because it was part of a Jam and I didn't think it would be fair if I got votes from a community built over a few years when others in the Jam would not have had that same benefit. I wanted it to be an even playing field, even if it meant holding out for a bit. So, I apologize for making you all wait.

There are still things I'd like to do for this game, things I'll end up adding, but it is at the very least ready to play. It's 40k words, so have at it!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Right, next up, something I'd like to announce. I'm working on a serialized fiction that I'm (hopefully) planning to turn into a book. The first 3 chapters are going to be posted for free, both here on my blog and on my Patreon, though not quite yet. Chapters after that will be released on Patreon for the people who pay the $5 tier.

I'll be honest, it has been extremely cathartic to go from writing an IF where the chapters are all pretty much the length of a book themselves, to writing an actual book where a chapter is about 4k words. It's a very nice breath of fresh air, and it by no means, entails that I will stop working on Bureau. In fact, it may even help speed up rate of production, funnily enough. Having something to keep my mind turning while having writer's block about a scene in the IF will help me constantly generate ideas, and that's really nice to think about.

A small college town is rocked by a horrific murder. In wake of the events, a couple of friends begin investigating this personal tragedy, determined to get to the bottom of what happened at the Scribe City college. The lesson is quickly thrust upon them that loss leads to pain, but pain is temporary, and loss can be forever. So what comes after the pain? They need to explore that journey together, and in the process, navigate the complicated things feelings that have started to bloom.

The book (serialized fiction for now) , called Love In Stasis, is going to be a 'WLW romance small town college murder mystery'. You will explore the relationships that these characters have and continue to form, and just how messy things get when tragedy sparks love. I have almost 25k words done for it, about six and a half chapters, and I'm going to try to get 50k words done with it by the end of the month. A writing challenge that's totally not tied to the name of any organizations.

If this works out, I could reward patrons with static fiction while not having to worry about providing everyone with constant things tied to the IF itself, and I could work on The Bureau at a pace I'm very comfortable with.

I'm still learning as a writer. I'm still learning new things I like, and how I like to produce content. All I know is that I like producing art in the form of writing, and I most certainly will not stop doing that anytime soon, and now that the Halloween Special is done, I will be getting back to the base game.

Which will start with a complete recoding of the gender variables. I've already started on that process, so no more multiple versions of each chapter. One version. One set of gender variables. Much more condensed coding and script. So, people out there who said that wasn't going to change, I just have to say what I'd said all along. My coding was indeed bad. However I will also say something else I've said all along. I do take criticism.

That being said I'm never using multi-replace and you can't make me. I like being able to read what I'm writing.

More to come in the near future.

Stay Brilliant,

-Vi

https://cogdemos.ink/play/viisbae/the-bureau-halloween-special-witchy-woman

Patreon Link

[bucky-fricking-barnes]

Someplace Like Home

Title: Someplace Like Home

Pairing: Nomad!Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 8.3k

Warnings: Canonical violence, minor injuries, minor blood, non-descriptive mentions of hospitals, mild language

Summary: Y/N owns a hostel in Croatia. When the very handsome Grant comes to work for her, she falls hard and fast for the new handyman.

A/N: This story takes place between Civil War and Infinity War, when Steve is on the run. There are a handful Croatian phrases/words used, which are translated at the end of this fic. Don’t ask me why all my Steve stories suddenly have foreign languages in them. As always, thanks for reading and supporting my writing in all the ways you do. Enjoy!

Dividers are by @firefly-graphics

Your morning starts off slow, like it always does, and after the handful of guests have finished breakfast and left to spend the rest of the day at the beach or in the mountains, you settle yourself behind the front counter and pull out your laptop. The dirty dishes can wait until later—Ana will be here in an hour, and she prefers doing the dishes over going over the books, so you have an unspoken deal that you’ll do the bookkeeping if she cleans up after meals.

You’re just opening up the software on your laptop when the front door opens. The bell above it jingles as a man steps in, bringing with him a warm gust of air. June has been unseasonably cool, but today is the warmest it’s been in weeks. You’ve kept most of the windows open all morning, even though it was still a bit chilly.

“Dobro jutro,” you greet. You carefully shift the laptop off to the side a few inches, being careful not to mess up the carefully arranged papers you’ve sorted out on the counter.

“Kako vam mogu pomoći?”

The man has a gray hiking backpack slung over his shoulder. He’s tall and blond, a dark blond that looks golden in the light from the outside but brown in the shadows. His thick beard and mustache are well-trimmed. You automatically open up the leatherbound reservation book and reach underneath the counter for a key. 

“Dobro jutro. Uh, govorite li engleski?” asks the man. He smiles politely, and you smile back, nodding.

“Of course,” you answer. “How can I help you?”

His eyes move to the pen in your hand, already poised over the next open spot in the reservation book. “I’m not here for a room. I’m here about the opening for a handyman.”

Surprised, you close the book again and tuck it back under the counter where it belongs, along with the key you’d grabbed. No one has come about the open position since you’d posted it months ago in the local cafe. Not even a sign outside the hostel has helped.

“In that case, my name’s Y/N. I’m the owner here.”

“Grant,” he replies, his hand already held out for you to shake.

You oblige with another smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Grant. Can I ask how you found out about the position? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around town.”

He nods once. “I just moved here from Italy, and from Switzerland before that.”

“So you’re making your way through Europe, then?” you ask. You’re not entirely surprised—he looks rugged enough that he could handle a long backpacking trip or several months of solo travel, unlike some of the college students you normally have traipsing through your village.

“In a way,” he answers. “Truthfully, I’d like to settle down someplace, but it’s been a rough few years. I haven’t quite found the place that feels like home yet.”

Secretly, as you listen to him explain the various European cities in which he’s lived, you wish that he’ll come to feel at home here. Brdonik isn’t large enough to be on any maps, but it’s been your home for almost a decade now, and you can’t imagine a better place. The whole community bands together, and people look out for each other. There’s enough tourism from backpackers and small cruises that you’re not totally isolated, but you’re still far enough removed that your daily life isn’t saturated with commercialism and the big city nonsense you often hear about through your guests. You’d experienced it enough before coming to Croatia, and you don’t ever plan on going back to the life you’d had before you moved.

“To answer your question,”—Grant’s gentle continuation pulls you from your thoughts—“I saw a flier posted in the cafe down the street. I stopped there for lunch.”

“What did you order?” you ask. You prop an elbow up on the counter and level him with your gaze.

“Is that important?

“If you want this job it is. You can tell a lot about a person based on what they order at a restaurant.”

He smiles a little. “I got the turkey sandwich.”

You consider his choice for a moment before giving him a nod. “Simple, but respectable. A clear tourist choice, but I like it.”

“You can’t go wrong with a turkey sandwich,” he adds.

“It’s a classic!” You smile back at him and then come around the counter into the main part of the lobby. You grab your clipboard from its hook on the wall.

“Let me give you a tour,” you tell him. “I’ll point out some of the things that need fixing, and then you can tell me if you still think you’re a good fit.”

Grant agrees, and he walks beside you as you lead him through the hostel. You show him the currently unoccupied rooms, as well as the common areas, and you give him plenty of time to inspect the stalled projects and major fixes that he’d been in charge of. While he looks around, you watch him carefully. There’s something familiar about him, something you can’t quite put your finger on, but he doesn’t set off any alarm bells in your head like some of the previous candidates had. He’s respectful of the property and the few lingering guests you come across, and Grant is polite enough to open doors for you as you approach them. He speaks softly and clearly, and his sense of humor is well-timed. Somehow, despite his hulking frame and obvious strength, you feel safe around him.

Eventually, you lead him to your office. Grant takes the seat in front of your desk and you close the door behind him, then sit behind your desk and pull a pad of paper from the drawer. He’s almost too big for the chair you normally reserve for college-age backpackers looking for a few days of housekeeping work. He’s relaxed, though, and he rests both arms on the thin wooden armrests as you get out what you need. You sneak a glance at him as you sit upright again. His eyes move slowly and carefully over the framed photos and documents on the wall, taking in each one of them individually before he moves onto the next—your college diploma from NYU, a photo of you with your family the last time they came to visit, a certificate of operation from the local government. His backpack is leaning up against the front leg of the chair and his left leg, and you briefly wonder how he’s afforded to travel so much. The bag looks brand new, and high-tech, too. Is he a tech mogul of some kind? A grown-up trust fund kid? Did he steal it, or is he just really good with money?

“You’ll have to excuse me, I don’t have any questions prepared for you,” you tell him as you reach for a pen.

He nods and looks back at you. “You weren’t expecting me to walk in today, I understand.”

“Either way, I have to say that so far, I’m very impressed with you.” You glance up again and give him a polite smile, then look back down as you write his name and the date at the top of the page. “What did you say your last name was again?”

“Carter,” he says.

Nodding, you add that at the top and make your first bullet point.

“Grant Carter. Are you named after someone? That seems a pretty traditional name for a guy your age.” You immediately cringe at the question. “I’m sorry, that was inappropriate. You don’t have to answer that.”

Chuckling, Grant shakes his head. “No, it’s alright. My mother was a big fan of Ulysses S. Grant.”

“The 18th president?” you ask, grinning wide.

He nods and lets out another small laugh. “That’s the one.”

“He’s not normally up there on peoples’ lists of favorite presidents.”

“She had her reasons, I guess,” Grant shrugs.

You hum a little with a smile and look back down at your almost empty legal pad. You have a million questions that you want to ask, and more that you know you should, but you allow yourself to think for a moment before you look up again. Whatever you ask has to be the right mix of the two.

“You’ve lived in a lot of really impressive places,” you begin, and Grant nods in confirmation. “Why come here? There are plenty of larger cities with more job openings. Better paying job openings,” you add.

“You sell yourself short,” Grant easily replies. He sits forward a little, his elbows sliding closer to the ends of the armrests. “Your town is beautiful. It’s comfortable, and a bit secluded. I’m looking for something quieter.”

“A lot of people are, but we’re not often what they want in the long run. How long are you planning on staying?”

Grant stares at you for a long moment before he replies, “Until I’m needed elsewhere.”

You raise an eyebrow. “That’s a bit cryptic, so I hope you don’t mind if I ask for a clearer answer.”

“I plan on staying indefinitely, but if it changes, I promise you’ll be the first to know.”

Not quite satisfied with his answer, you still scribble down the response and make a second point on the next line down.

“Do you have handyman experience?”

Grant shakes his head. “But I’m a quick learner and I’m stronger than I look. Whatever I don’t already know how to do, I’ll pick it up quickly if I can get the information from someone or somewhere.”

I highly doubt you’re stronger than you look, you think, forcing yourself to look down at the paper and write, rather than at him. You already look pretty damn strong.

“Do you have a previous employer I can contact? Or references?”

“I can have that information to you by the end of the day.”

You nod and keep writing, and you don’t look up as you say, “We don’t typically provide housing for employees, as we’re a small enough village that commute isn’t an issue, but given that you’re new to town, I’m going to assume that you don’t have a place to stay yet.”

“No ma’am, I don’t.”

“I can get you set up in a room here, if that’s alright with you. I won’t expect you to work outside of normal business hours, except in an emergency, but that’s the same even if you lived off-property,” you tell him, looking up. You don’t lift your pen, and it’s a little satisfying to see that Grant looks mildly surprised. He doesn’t seem like the kind of person who could be surprised by anything.

“You’re hiring me?” he asks.

“Should I not?”

He quickly recovers and shakes his head, giving you a small smile. “I was just surprised that you’re not waiting until after you’ve seen my references.”

“Are you a horrible person?”

“I don’t think so, no.

“Are you a terrible employee?” you ask, putting your pen down on the desk.

“I’m loyal to a fault.”

“Should I be concerned about criminal activity?”

Grant laughs. “I’m a model citizen, though I did steal a piece of cake when I was a kid.”

“I’ll be sure to inform the local authorities,” you tease, grinning. You slide the notepad onto your desk and stand, holding out your hand for him to shake. Grant obliges. “You’re hired, Mr. Carter. If you’re ready, I’ll show you to your room so you can get settled in before your first day tomorrow.”

“I’d like that, thank you,” he replies.

“I won’t take the room out of your salary unless it prevents us from taking guests, but I don’t see that becoming an issue, except maybe in mid-July,” you tell him as you move around the desk to the door. “The handyman position pays 800 euros a month. You’ll be paid bi-weekly in check or cash, whichever your preference. We don’t have direct deposit here. If you need an account in town, there’s a bank down the road.”

“Cash is fine,” he says. He picks up his bag and swings it over his shoulder before following you back out into the hallway, then out to the lobby. You make a pit stop at the front desk to grab a key before heading up the main staircase.

The private, single person rooms on the third floor are a little older, and you briefly worry as you climb the stairs if the beds will be able to hold Grant’s weight. You don’t use them as often now that you’ve finished transforming the old hotel into a hostel. There’s a thin coating of dust on the handrail and you make a mental note to give this floor a thorough cleaning tomorrow while he’s occupied, that way you won’t be intruding. 

You lead Grant to the end of the hall, where the rooms are slightly larger and the windows overlook the ocean. While the view is great, most of your summer guests only fill the dorm-style rooms, so you’re fairly certain you won’t be missing out on any profit by giving him this room.

“Here we are,” you say, and you open the door before stepping aside so he can enter first.

Grant ducks through the doorway and flips the light switch, then looks around in silence. You wait in the hallway, holding your breath as he makes his inspection.

“This is nice,” he finally says, looking back at you. He drops his bag at the foot of the bed. “You’re sure it’s alright if I stay here?”

You wave one hand dismissively. “It’s fine.”

Your phone chimes in your back pocket and you pull it out, quickly reading the notification. It’s only mildly urgent, but you can feel Grant trying to look occupied as he waits for you to leave, so you look up and gesture back towards the stairs with your phone. 

“I’ve gotta take care of something, but you’re in luck. Every Thursday night we host a group dinner for the guests. The food is all cooked by a chef from a local restaurant in an attempt to promote the local cuisine, so you’re welcome to join us, or I can recommend some other restaurants in the area, if you want to explore a little bit more. We eat at seven.”

Nodding, Grant smiles and crosses the room to pull the key from where you’d left it in the lock. “I’ll see you at seven. It was nice to meet you, Y/N.”

“You too, Grant. Welcome aboard!” You smile once more, then turn and head back down the hall. His door closes as you reach the top of the stairs, and suddenly, you can’t wait for dinnertime.

You occupy yourself for the majority of the day by compiling a list of projects for Grant, as well as contacting the references he sends you using the email address on the hostel’s website. He gets glowing reviews from each and every person on the list, though they all seem a little confused when you first ask about him. 

Grant comes down to the first floor at five minutes to seven, and you’re just greeting the first small group of guests to arrive back from their excursions when he steps down from the bottom step. You glance over and give him a quick, acknowledging smile before turning back to the guests.

��Dobor dan! How was your time at the beach?” you ask. They reply politely in a mix of English and their own native language. You vaguely recognize it as French. You’re about to tell them in English about the dinner schedule, hoping that they’ll understand at least partially, but Grant begins talking in rapid-fire French before you even open your mouth.

It takes everything in you to keep your jaw from dropping straight through the floor. None of Grant’s references had mentioned he was bilingual, and neither did he. It feels like it should’ve been obvious, however, given that every single person he’d talked to had mentioned his incredible intelligence and ability to pick up skills quicker than anybody they knew.

Still, you watch in stunned silence from behind the front desk and Grant chatters with the guests. He leads them from the lobby and into the adjoining sitting area, where you hear them sit down and continue to talk. Someone laughs, and then Grant does, too. It’s a deep, mellow baritone, and you catch yourself grinning before you manage to stifle it.

When the next group of guests walk in, you guide them into the sitting room with the others. Grant catches your eye as you turn the corner, and when he smiles, you swear that your heart stutters in your chest.

He’s your employee, you chide yourself, and you turn your back on the group on the premise of prepping a plate of cookies for the coffee table.

“Dinner should be ready soon,” you say as you set the plate in the center of the group. Grant translates for you, first in French, and then in a language that sounds almost Spanish, but you know enough of that to know that it’s something different. All the guests nod in agreement.

You settle against one of the heavy wood bookshelves and watch quietly as Grant chats with the guests, switching fluidly between languages whenever he turns to a new person. It’s amazing, so you simply stay silent as you listen to the flurry of foreign words in the sitting room. You’ve never heard the pre-dinner conversation so lively. It brings a new warmth to the hostel, and you can’t help but smile as you watch the guests come alive, even though they’re exhausted.

“Dinner is ready!” Ana calls. She pokes her head in the door, and she smiles wide when she sees the guests talking excitedly. Every seat is taken. When she turns to look at you, you only grin.

“What’s going on?” she asks, stepping closer so she can lower her voice. “Who is that?”

You lean in, whispering, “His name is Grant. He’s the new handyman, and apparently, he speaks multiple languages.”

“Apparently?”

“I didn’t know when I hired him! This,” you gesture with one hand towards the circle of guests, who have started to rise now that Grant has passed along the message about dinner, “was a surprise to me, too. He just started talking to them on his own. I didn’t ask him to do anything.”

Ana raises her eyebrows, giving you a meaningful look. Before you can scold her for trying to meddle in your love life, she slips away and Grant appears at your side.

“Who is that?” he asks.

Goosebumps erupt on your arms at the sound of his deep voice so close to your ear. He’s leaned down so you can hear him clearly, and though he’s not quite in your space, he’s still close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from him. It should feel stifling in the early summer heat, but it’s comforting, and you turn towards him with a bright smile.

“Ana. She’s the manager when I’m not here. I’ll introduce you later. How come you never told me you spoke all those languages?” you ask.

Grant just smiles back at you. “You never asked.”

“I’ll make sure to add that to my list of questions for the next time I have to hire someone.” You gesture at the line of guests filtering through the doorway to the hostel’s dining room. “We should eat. Most of the guests have spent all day hiking or at the beach, and they’ll be hungry. Our local chefs are all amazing, so the food always goes quickly.”

“What’s on the menu?” Grant asks. He starts to walk and you fall into step beside him, noting how he angles himself sideways and stoops through the doorway so that you’re not squashed into the doorframe. It’s a miracle he doesn’t hit his head on any of the lowered ceilings or hanging decor in the building.

I’ll have to warn him about the lights in the rooms on the second floor, you note.

“Punjene paprike. Stuffed peppers,” you translate. You pause and watch as the guests choose their seats, silently making sure there are enough chairs. When it’s clear you’ve done the math correctly, you look over at Grant. “How many languages do you speak?”

He shrugs and surveys the long table filled with food. People are already piling their plates high and chattering with their friends and family, and the room is filled with amicable noise. The sun coming in from the windows is golden. The windows face south, which is one of the many reasons why you’d first purchased the building. It needs a lot of work, and it always has, but the view of the ocean from the dining room windows, along with the way the sun illuminates the whole room, helps make all the work worth it.

“This place is beautiful,” says Grant, quietly. “You’ve done well.”

You look over at him, surprised at the praise. It warms you from the inside out, and you smile when he meets your eyes. “Thank you. I’ve worked hard.”

He nods, and after a moment, he gestures towards the table. There are two empty seats beside each other, near the far end of the room. Ana has taken the seat across from them and she’s already begun to eat.

You follow Grant across the dining room, and you try not to act surprised when he pulls out the chair and helps you sit before taking the spot beside yours. Ana catches your eye as you reach for a dish, but you look away. You can’t risk having her embarrass you in front of the guests.

Or Grant, the cheeky little voice in your brain adds, but you quickly push the thought to the far reaches of your brain. Showing your hand—and your burgeoning feelings for Grant—right now is something you need even less.

“So, you’re from New York?” he asks.

You look up from where you’re pulling a napkin into your lap. “What?”

“Your degree. It’s from NYU, so I’m assuming that you’re from the States.”

Nodding, you allow him to serve one of the peppers onto your plate, and you heap an extra serving of rice onto the side of your plate before handing him the bowl. You don’t want to assume he likes anything, especially since he ordered one of the most American things on the menu at the cafe.

“I am. I grew up in Manhattan, and I decided to stay there for college. Once I got my degree in hospitality, I decided it was time I see more of the world,” you tell him. 

“Why Croatia?” Grant asks.

You shrug and pick up your fork. “Honestly? I don’t know why. I didn’t even mean to come here. I ended up on the wrong train and decided to stick it out. I figured it would be a fun experience either way, but I fell in love with it here. On my second day here, I saw that this building was up for sale and I had just enough money in my savings to buy it. It was a big risk, but I think that it was worth it.”

He looks around the room, listening to the conversations for a few moments before he smiles. “I think so, too.”

“Where are you from?” you ask. “You’re clearly American.”

Grant laughs at that, nodding. “I grew up in Brooklyn. When I was old enough, I served in the army for a few years, and since then I’ve just been… traveling.”

The army thing makes sense, and you file that information away for later. The two of you start to eat, exchanging a few more words throughout the meal. Grant offers to help Ana with the dishes. She’s giddy at the proposal, so you let them head into the kitchen as you help guests arrange their plans for the next day. You find yourself straining to listen for the sound of his voice during the quiet moments, however, but by the time the dishes are finished, Grant tells you that he’s exhausted and he wants to get a good night’s rest before his first day on the job. You wish him goodnight from the front desk, then wait for Ana to appear and barrage you with a million questions about the new handyman.

You learn quickly that there’s even more to Grant than meets the eye. He’d been telling the truth in his interview—he’s deceptively strong, and he really does learn quicker than anyone you’ve ever met. His Croatian improves leaps and bounds in the first few months at the hostel. By the end of the summer, he’s practically fluent, even if he does bumble through some of the more complicated phrases with a faint blush on his cheeks.

The longstanding projects for the hostel are all completed by the end of August, leaving you scrambling to keep Grant busy. When you can’t find anything to do, however, he busies himself by exploring the far reaches of the island, speaking with the guests in a myriad of languages, and keeping you company in the lobby or in your office. His presence, which had once seemed much too large for the old brick building, has settled. He seems at home in the armchair you buy for the corner of your office, and he’s become a fixture in the doorway of the lobby, where he likes to stand and watch traffic pass by.

It’s on one of the hottest days of the year that you first get a glimpse behind Grant’s ever-friendly facade. You’re behind the desk, going through the reservations for the upcoming week, when there’s a shout from outside. The front door to the hostel is propped open in an attempt to let in a breeze, and Grant has taken up residence in his normal spot. You’ve only just processed the shout when there’s an explosion. The floor beneath you shakes and shudders, and you grip the edge of the desk in an attempt to keep upright.

Grant whirls around and fixes his eyes on you. He’s scanning you, up and down, searching for any sign of injury.

“Are you okay?” he asks. You nod, swallowing thickly, and peer over his shoulder. There’s no sign of what’s happened outside, but you can hear screaming and shouting. There’s a gunshot and you flinch.

“Stay here, and stay hidden,” says Grant, and you know in an instant that it’s an order. “Stay quiet and don’t let anyone in. Okay?”

Nodding again, you drop to a crouch, then curl up on the floor with your back against the desk. You clutch your phone in one hand and listen as Grant closes, then locks the door. When he doesn’t appear behind the desk, you crawl over to the side and look out into the small lobby. He’s gone.

Your arms shake beneath you and you have to fall back against the desk for support before you fall flat on your face. Squeezing your eyes shut, you listen to the commotion outside. There are no more explosions, but you hear more screams and shouts, followed by a crash and gunshots. Your heart pounds in your chest as the noise gets closer and closer. You know that Grant was in the army, so he must have military training, but the thought of him outside—the thought of him in danger—makes you want to puke.

There’s a thud against the front door and you flinch. Your body tenses and you curl up in the fetal position, trying to maintain your breathing. It doesn’t work, however, and when there’s another bang, you scream.

“Molim! Molim, let me in!”

You look around the edge of the desk again. It’s a woman on the other side, and the desperation in her voice propels you to your feet and into the lobby without a second thought. You twist the lock and yank open the door.

A slim woman dressed entirely in black grins at you. Her eyes are a shocking shade of electric blue and her teeth are bright white—a stark contrast against the mask that hides the rest of her features.

“Sorry, dragi,” she says, and you gasp when she reveals the gun in her left hand. With the other, she reaches out and grabs you. “You’re coming with me.”

“No!” You fight against the woman’s grip, and when you lift your eyes to search for help from someone else, you can’t believe what you’re seeing.

Grant is lifting a car off someone. He lifts the car and tosses it aside with a heave and a grunt, and then he’s fighting someone hand-to-hand. The man in black is clearly trained because he gets in a few hits, but Grant never stays down for long. He’s slowly forcing the man back down the street, towards the beach, instead of towards the line of shops that’s on the other side of the hostel.

There’s a blast as another explosive goes off, this time in a restaurant diagonal from your front door. Stone and rubble flies in every direction. The street is empty of people, thankfully, except for the people Grant is fighting. Somewhere down the street, a car alarm is going off, and the light from the harsh midday sun is almost blinding. Your ears are ringing from the blast and the alarm. You think you scream at some point, but you’re not sure.

The man that Grant has been fighting has been thrown back by the blast, but Grant is still standing, as if he’s anchored onto the pavement. There’s a metal car door in his hand. He’s gripping onto a piece of the leather interior, and the red painted finish on the outside has been battered by the flying debris. His chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath.

The woman drags you out of the hostel and onto the street. She wraps her arm around your shoulders and places the gun against the side of your head. You stop struggling then, and your breath catches in your throat as your heart begins to pound even harder. Your vision is going blurry along the edges, but not enough to miss the way Grant’s jaw clenches when he catches sight of you.

“Captain Rogers!” the woman shouts.

He throws a second man off of him and turns fully towards you and the woman. “Let her go!”

In your ear, the woman chuckles. It’s low and dark, and full of malice, and you shiver. You close your eyes and pray that it’s all just a bad dream.

“Not until you come with us,” the woman replies.

“Leave her and the others out of this.”

When you open your eyes, Grant is looking past you at the woman. The light reflects in his deep blue eyes, and it’s then that you realize what he’s been hiding from you.

How did I miss it before?

“Steve Rogers,” you choke.

He looks at you again. “Y/N…”

“You’re Steve Rogers.”

There’s a pause as he watches you with clear regret, and then the woman laughs, shocking you out of your revelation.

“How precious!” she exclaims. “Your little boss had no clue who you were?”

“Let. Her. Go.” Steve takes a step forward and the woman’s grip on you tightens. You can’t stop the whimper that escapes you when she pushes the gun harder against your head, making you crane your neck to one side.

Two new men in black come up behind Steve. He turns his head slightly, listening to their approach, but he doesn’t move. You can tell that he’s calculating what to do next.

There’s a moment of clarity as you watch them launch themselves at him. Steve fights like he was born for it—and maybe he was, you rationalize—and as he easily overcomes them both, you have a revelation that’s nothing short of a rock at the pit of your stomach.

Steve has to get out of this alive. So many people count on him, and they always have. Though you know that there are a lot of people all over the world who consider him a criminal, you also know that there are a lot of people just like you that think Steve deserves a place of honor for all that he’s done and all the sacrifices he’s made.

The safety on the woman’s gun clicks off and Steve freezes. The two men take advantage of that, and they grab his arms, pulling them tightly behind his back and pushing him to his knees. He falls with a grunt. One of the men grabs a fistful of his hair and yanks his head back until he’s looking at you and the woman from his place on the ground. He doesn’t fight back.

“Steve,” you plead. “You have to fight. You can’t let them take you.”

“I’m not leaving you,” he replies. He shifts his gaze to the woman without moving his head. “If I go with you, you’ll let her go?”

“You have my word.”

Heat swells in your eyes and you know that you’re about to cry. “No! Don’t trust her, Steve! You can’t believe her!”

The woman jostles you and you close your eyes on instinct. A tear slips down your cheek.

“Shut up,” she growls. 

You swallow thickly. At your sides, your hands and fingers have gone numb, and your legs are barely holding you upright. 

“Alright,” Steve agrees. “I’ll go with you.”

A sob bursts through and the woman releases you. She practically throws you to the ground, and you have just enough time to get your arms out in front of you before you hit the road. Pain shoots up both limbs and the pavement digs into your forearms. From where you lay, you watch the men pull Steve to his feet. He moves with them and doesn’t fight back as they drag him to a black cargo van on the perimeter of the blast zone.

“Steve!” you scream. Your voice breaks and your throat feels raw as you push yourself up and stumble in their direction. The movement sends pins and needles into your hands and feet, but you do it anyway. Your limbs feel completely out of your control as you attempt to go after them.

Steve looks back at you. He’s too far now for you to make out his expression, but you can see that he’s trying to tell you something. The man on his right shoves his shoulder and he’s forced into the van. 

“Let him go! Steve!” You start to sprint, running after the van as the back door slides shut and the woman, who climbed into the driver’s seat while you were getting to your feet, begins to navigate it through the rubble from the explosions. The tinted windows keep you from seeing Steve inside and your mind immediately goes to the worst.

“Someone help me! Stop that van!”

You run until you physically can’t. The van is long gone, and when you collapse onto the street, a crowd gathers around you. People are murmuring and asking you questions. There are too many hands, too many faces, even if many of them are familiar. Your vision swims as you’re rolled onto your back. The summer sun beats down on you harder, and you try to focus, but all you can manage is a mumble of Steve’s name before you lose consciousness on the pavement.

When you wake, the soft beeping noise is enough to tell you that you’re in a hospital. You open your eyes, expecting to be greeted by white walls and bedding, and maybe a wall of cabinets with a sink. Instead, there’s a slanted wall of glass windows, each separated by a pillar of concrete. Thin, almost invisible computer screens with golden text are scattered around your room, each displaying charts, figures, and data in a language you can’t read. Some are embedded into the walls on either side of the bed, while others float above white counters that look more like control panels for a spaceship. There are scans of someone’s body and brain—your brain, you realize after a long moment—that spin in circles on the floating screens.

A hiss makes you flinch, and you quickly look away from the brain scan to where a young, dark-skinned girl is walking in through a set of sliding glass doors you hadn’t seen before. Her white, high-necked sheath dress looks nothing like hospital attire, especially since it’s sleeveless and only has mesh to cover her shoulders and a few inches below her knees, but she’s holding a tablet and looks so serious that you wonder if maybe she’s not a regular doctor. After all, this doesn’t seem like a normal hospital. Where are you? Did the men in black come back to get you, too?

“Y/N, it’s good to see you awake. How are you feeling?” she asks.

Her accent is jarring, and you blink. When you go to speak, you have to lick your lips a few times. They’re dry, and your mouth feels so much like sandpaper that for a moment you don’t think you’ll actually be able to say anything at all.

“Where am I?” you finally ask in return. “Who are you?”

She smiles briefly and checks something on her tablet, then glances over at one of the floating screens off to the side. Seemingly satisfied, she locks the device and sets it aside.

“My name is Shuri. You’re in Wakanda. You will be safe here.”

You frown. “Wakanda?” None of the hospitals even remotely close to the hostel hold that name, not even in passing, but it sounds familiar.

“Yes. We’re friends of Captain Rogers. When we heard about his capture, and how you were involved, we brought you here.”

Tears burn hot in your eyes as the memories from the street outside the hostel come flooding back all at once. How long have you been in the hospital? Who’s looking for Steve?

“We have located him already,” she continues, and you inhale sharply, shifting in the bed as you reach up to wipe your face. “And the Dora Milaje has been sent to retrieve him.”

“The what?” you ask. Your voice shakes and you swallow hard in an attempt to steady yourself.

Shuri smiles again. “The Dora Milaje. They are our special forces here in Wakanda. Let me ask again, how are you feeling?”

You move in the bed a little bit more, testing your limbs for stiffness or pain. Surprisingly, there’s very little. “I’m… I’m okay, I think. Confused, mostly. Thirsty.” Your stomach growls, so you quickly add, “Hungry.”

She laughs and nods, then picks up her tablet. Shuri taps a few times before glancing down at something through the slanted windows. 

“Someone will bring you food shortly. I’ll also have someone come change the bandages on your hands and wrists. Your injuries are healing nicely. You should still rest a while longer, but I will make sure you’re notified when Captain Rogers has been safely returned.”

Nodding, you sit back against the pillows, but you quickly sit up again with a gasp. “The hostel! Ana!”

“We’ve sent someone to assist Miss Mitrovich in your absence,” Shuri soothes. She steps closer to the bed and you lie back as she approaches. “There were very few repairs that needed to be done to your building, but they are taken care of, and all your guests are safe. I have already dispatched a team of Wakandan specialists to help with the rebuild of Brdonik. We are also installing a security system in your building.”

You sigh in relief and close your eyes, swallowing against the dryness again. You lay in silence, listening to Shuri as she moves around the room and mutters to herself. When you finally open your eyes again, it’s because she’s greeting someone as the sliding glass doors hiss open for a second time.

“Grant,” you murmur, and he gives you a weak smile from just inside the doorway. You correct yourself, shaking your head. “Steve.”

“Grant is my middle name,” he quietly explains. “And Carter…”

“Agent Carter,” you finish. “I see the connection now.”

While waiting for your food, you’ve slowly been piecing together the different parts of Steve’s life that you knew, trying to get the full picture. You’ve known him personally as Grant, the quiet man from Brooklyn that is good with his hands, always knows exactly what to say when you’re in a bad mood, and is a hit with every guest that crosses your threshold. On the other hand, you also know him as Steve, the All-American super-soldier that’s plastered across every history textbook you’ve ever been given. He’s also the super-soldier that you’ve watched on the news, listening to reporter after reporter praise him like he’s a god, then publicly curse and shame him on their next breath.

Shuri quietly excuses herself. You stare at Steve as she leaves through the sliding doors behind him. There’s a cut above his right eyebrow, and blood caked in his beard, right below a nasty split in his lower lip. He’s standing lopsided, like he’s keeping the weight off his right foot, and he looks like he could use a shower and a long nap.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

He nods again. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For dragging you into this,” Steve answers. He sighs. “For getting you hurt. For putting you in danger.”

You shake your head and sit up a little more in the bed, allowing the pillows to prop you upright. “None of this is your fault.”

“It is, and—”

“And nothing,” you interrupt. You give him a stern look and he presses his lips together with a wince. “You didn’t know that there was any danger. If you had, wouldn’t you have left?”

After a second, Steve nods, and you continue,

“And if you’d been able to stop it from happening, you would’ve, right?”

Another nod and you smooth the surprisingly soft hospital blanket over your legs.

“Then it’s not really your fault, Grant. Steve,” you correct again, more firmly this time. You’re still coming to terms with the fact that he’s not 100% who he said he was.

“But you still got hurt. I still put you in danger just by being there. I shouldn’t have stayed as long as I did. I got too comfortable, and too close, and I was careless.”

You purse your lips and watch him for several moments. Steve stays still under your inspection, waiting for you to say something.

Finally, you tell him, “I don’t regret what happened, and if I had the chance to go back in time and change things, I wouldn’t. I’m not in mortal danger, and you’re safe again. The hostel is being taken care of. None of the guests got hurt. Tourism might be down for a couple months but…” You shrug. “It’s the end of the busiest season anyway, and I have enough savings that I’m not going to worry.”

Steve shakes his head at you, then turns to look at the screens. He doesn’t seem to be actually reading them, but he puts his hands on his hips as he stares at a spinning scan of your hand and wrist.

“Do you regret it?” you ask.

He turns back. He’s silent for a few seconds as he watches you fidget with the hem of the blanket in your lap. “No,” Steve finally replies. “I don’t.”

“Me neither.”

When he doesn’t move, you swing your legs over the edge of the bed. You’re not dressed in a normal hospital gown—someone has put you in leggings and a tunic of some kind—but you still shiver when your bare feet touch the floor.

“Y/N—” Steve limps towards you, holding both hands out to steady you if you lose your balance. You don’t, and he stops a few feet away.

“I don’t regret any of it, Steve,” you say. You start to close the distance between the two of you even more. “Not a single minute.”

“Volim te,” Steve murmurs.

You freeze, now within arm’s reach. “What?”

“Volim te.”

Your brain is working a mile a minute to catch up with what he’s said. Steve shifts in place, wincing as he transfers the weight to his injured leg. 

“You should get that checked out,” you quietly tell him, glancing down at his leg.

He stares at you, as if he was expecting a different response. You know he was, but you’re suddenly so overwhelmed by everything that it’s the first thing out of your mouth. 

“I—” You close your eyes and shake your head, letting out a small self-conscious chuckle. “I’m sorry. I love you too, Steve. I do. I love you. I don’t— I don’t know why I said that. I guess I’m just worried—”

He cuts you off by stepping into your space and cupping your face with one hand. His fingers thread up into your hair and he tilts your head back so he can press his lips to yours. Your arms fall limp at your sides for a second, but then your brain catches up. You close your eyes and reach up to put one hand on the back of his neck. The other slides around his waist, pulling him closer as he kisses you.

Steve’s body is warm and though he winces with pain, then pulls away slightly to touch his fingers to his busted lip, neither one of you actually moves away from the other. You stay close enough to feel the heat from his breath on your skin.

“You need to eat,” he murmurs.

“And you need a doctor,” you reply.

He smiles a little, more just pressing his lips together than anything, and kisses your forehead. You close your eyes again when he lingers.

“Don’t go,” he says as you step away. 

You frown and crowd close again, and you place both hands on his chest. “Steve?”

“No. I mean, you should go now, but…” He struggles for a second, trying to find the words he wants to say, and you wait patiently. “What I meant was: Don’t go back to Croatia. Stay with me.”

“What about the hostel? What about Ana and the guests?”

“I’ve heard you say a thousand times that she could probably run the place on her own. Plus, it’s the end of the busiest season, and after everything that’s happened, tourism will probably be low. You said it yourself.” 

Steve reaches up to pull your hands off of him, but he holds them and rubs little circles over your knuckles with his thumbs. He watches you carefully, giving you his full attention. His eyes are deep and blue, and the crinkle between his eyebrows has disappeared completely now that he’s sure you’re okay.

“So, what? I’d stay here in Wakanda? What would I do?” you ask, frowning. “They don’t really have tourists here, do they? It’s not like they need a hostel.”

“No, but I need a partner.”

“Don’t you already have partners, Steve? What about the Falcon? Or Black Widow? Or even your friend that you told me about—James? Isn’t he a superhero, too?” 

Shaking his head, he answers, “That’s not the kind of partner I need, Y/N. I don’t need a partner to fight with. I need a partner that I can live with. Someone to make a home with.”

You stare at him for a second, allowing your brain to process what he’s just said, and then you give him a slow, sly smile. Inside, you’re giddy and jumping up and down, but all you do is pull your hands in a little more so he has to step closer to you.

“Steven Grant Rogers, are you asking me to move in with you?”

“I guess I am.” His ears are starting to turn a bright shade of pink, and it’s beginning to creep along his cheekbones as well, just above his beard. 

Steve’s still holding your hands captive, so you simply raise an eyebrow. “Do you have a place to live here in Wakanda? Or are we going to be staying here in my hospital room until you find one?”

He shrugs and grins back at you. “King T’Challa gave me an apartment.”

“The king gave you an apartment?” You pull your hands away and step back. You can’t hide your disbelief, though deep down, you figure it’s very likely that the king tried to give Steve more. He’s a hero, even if most of the world doesn’t believe it.

“The princess was just in here going over your medical information, and you’re shocked that he gave me an apartment?” Steve asks, a smirk on his face.

You gape at him even more. “You’re kidding. Steve, that was not—”

“Princess Shuri. She’s made most of the technology around here, and she oversees the recovery of important patients. Like you,” he adds.

“If I’d known—”

He leans in and kisses your forehead again. “You don’t need to bow or anything. They don’t do that here, though I’m sure she’d appreciate a thank you the next time you see her. Maybe compliment one of her inventions. T’Challa says she likes that.”

“The next time?” you hiss. “Steve—”

This time, he laughs at you. It’s a full-bodied laugh, unlike the sparse chuckles you’ve gotten out of him since his return, and you relax. You smile, too, a real smile that makes your cheeks ache as you press your burning face against his chest. Steve wraps his arms around you. His body shakes as he laughs, but he quickly settles down and kisses the top of your head.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” you tell him, not letting go. In fact, you hug him tighter around the waist with both arms.

“Me too. Come on, ljubavi. Let’s go home.”

Dobro jutro = Good morning

Kako vam mogu pomoći? = How can I help you?

Govorite li engleski? = Do you speak English?

Dobor dan = Good afternoon

Molim = Please

Dragi = Darling

Volim te = I love you

Ljubavi = Love/my love

Thank you for reading! If you liked this, please consider reblogging my work so that others can enjoy it too.

I do not consent to have my work posted, translated, or published to any third party site or app. If anyone sees my work anywhere other than my personal tumblr, Patreon, or ao3 accounts, it has been reposted without my permission.

If you want to support me further, consider buying me a ko-fi! My ko-fi is also under my SPN fanfiction blog, but I promise it’s me.

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Forever: @aya-fay

Steve Rogers: @lipstickandvibranium​ @delicatecapnerd

[littlejuicebox]

A different kind.

Written for a prompt given to me by @coyote-mint! Thank you!

Also, peep this Dadstarion drawing by @supplementalfigures which I adore and is the inspiration for Astarion wearing baby Gale.

Summary: The Ancunins take their first outing as a family of three. They aren’t quite prepared for the new experience.

Tags/Warnings: all fluff, family, parenthood, babies, Astarion being Astarion

*

Astarion protectively wraps his hands beneath the small infant in his arms. Gale is just under two months old and sleeping curled against his father, lulled by the steady thrum of the older man’s heart.

The little one is held snugly against Astarion’s chest with a wrap made of gauzy blue cotton, intricately embroidered one night by the previously-expectant father. Gold-threaded stars and planets dapple the inky night sky of the fabric, keeping the infant sleeping peacefully among the celestial bodies.

The stars certainly shine for Gale. At least in the Ancunin household.

The first outing as a family of three is to the newest shop in town, Rivington Raiments, the first fine clothier in the outer city. Both Astarion and you hoped this newest addition meant journeys into the city for every new garment would be a thing of the past.

Over the years, trips would have been even more frequent had your husband not been a fair clothing alterer himself. In the past nine months, he’d had to let out your favorite dresses more than once as your stomach grew to encompass the life that had been growing within.

But now, you’ve lost majority of the baby bump, and a few new pieces are in order to replace some of the well-worn garments currently in your closet.

The tailor fusses around you, placing pins in a winter-ready dress you’ve decided to try on. Astarion is watching with rapt interest as the middle-aged human woman adjusts the hem. He thinks that, in another life, that might have been him.

“How do I look?” You ask after you turn to face Astarion once the seamstress has finished pinning her proposed alterations.

“I think you’d look gorgeous in anything, darling,” Your husband remarks with a soft smile, his hand sliding from its resting spot under the bundle in his arms to lightly pat the infant’s back. He’s swaying gently as he speaks; the constant soothing movement while holding Gale has quickly become a habit for you both.

It’s a compliment, but he means it’s a no.

You nod your head in understanding and then turn to look at yourself in the mirror, feigning thought, before sighing and saying, “I believe I would like to think about this further before I make a purchase. But thank you for your time. Perhaps you could direct me to the children’s clothing once I change?”

As the seamstress busily works to unpin you, Astarion catches your eye and flashes you the briefest crinkled nose behind the woman’s back.

Ah, so he’d meant the dress was a hell no.

*

“Don’t you think you went a little overboard on your purchases, my love?” Astarion inquires as the two of you enter the local tavern for lunch.

“We go through so many diapers and burp cloths a day, it’s hard for the poor maid to keep up with the wash,” You respond, narrowing your gaze at your husband, “Just because you don’t have to wash them doesn’t mean we have enough.”

“Very well,” Your silver-haired spouse responds, choosing to avoid the argument though he cannot avoid rolling his eyes slightly as the two of you sit down.

Gale begins to stir against his father. The movements are followed by tiny grunts of disapproval coming from layers of cloth. Your husband manages to calm the infant, at least for a moment longer, with a few gentle caresses along the baby’s back.

A quick glance to the wall clock and the older elf warns, “Ah, I’m afraid it will be feeding time soon and my charms will no longer work, dear.”

The two of you place an order with the barmaid. She returns moments later with a pitcher of water and focuses her attention on the flash of silver hair peaking out from swaths of navy.

“I see the new addition is here,” She remarks, her hand moving to touch the all too tempting, downy soft patch of curls upon the baby’s head.

Astarion instantly intercepts the well-meaning gesture with his own hand, his mouth forming a thin line of irritation as he releases the woman’s wrist from his grip.

“I would thank you to not touch me or my children without consent, Beatrice. And certainly not without washing your hands first.” The male elf says, the normal gentility of his tone lost in favor of a much sharper one.

“O-oh, of course. I apologize, Lord Ancunin,” The barmaid responds, splotches of rose appearing across her face as she quickly takes a step back to increase her breadth from the infant.

Your husband gained a reputation for being highly litigious years ago. Though he slayed his enemies with contracts and court appearances rather than daggers nowadays, he was still seen as quite dangerous. No one has yet forgotten the dispute the Ancunins had with their neighbors over property lines shortly after the manor was purchased.

Perhaps Astarion had lied to get his way in that one. But what did your neighbors truly need with a single colonnade of fruit-bearing trees when you two held rights the rest of the orchard?

Beatrice quickly dismisses herself and heads to assist another table of customers. When Astarion turns his attention back to you, he spots your arms folded across your chest in signature displeasure and groans, readying himself for the chastisement.

“She’s going to spit in our food now, Astarion.” You remark with a soft, slightly annoyed sigh.

“She can spit in my food thrice if it means she doesn’t touch my vulnerable child,” Your husband retorts, his pale hand once again finding its habitual resting place along the infant’s back.

You shrug and give a vague wave your hand in a sign of truce. Because really, how can you argue against a protective father?

As if on cue, Gale begins to cry just as the barmaid places your orders on the table. It’s a loud, shrill, hungry wail, earning the two of you several bothered glares from other patrons scattered across the tavern.

“Oh, please, as if none of you have heard a crying baby before,” Astarion snaps, just loud enough for the nearby tables to hear as he begins to pull Gale from the carrier. The elf tries in vain to soothe the babe, but as predicted, the little prince is demanding satiation.

You sneak one bite of mashed potato in your mouth and then sigh before gesturing for your husband to pass you the infant. Astarion gives you an apologetic look as he places the little one in your arms.

Unfortunately, daddy just doesn’t have the correct anatomy for this part of parenting.

Gale quickly finds a proper latch and stops crying as he searches for nutrients with happy hums. Astarion eats a few bites of his own meal and soon sets his sights on feeding you.

At first you refuse, already bothered by the prying eyes staring at your partially exposed breast — typical — and not wanting to attract further attention. Your husband throws the wrap over your chest and then stares as you expectantly.

The intensity of his eyes and the set of his jaw say you’re not getting out of this one. He’s going to feed you like a child since he cannot feed his own child in this moment.

It’s both embarrassing and adorable.

You watch the fork approach your face, keeping your lips firmly sealed in a final protest. But then both a narrowed glare and irritated huff from Astarion cause you to instantly open your mouth, where he places a few green beans upon your tongue.

“How do you expect Gale to have proper nourishment if you keep leaving your meals half finished, little love?” Your husband lectures before placing a bit of mashed potatoes in your mouth and planting an affectionate kiss upon the apple of your cheek.

The child in your arms coos in assent.

“See, the little prince even agrees with me,” Astarion remarks with a cheeky wink, taking a moment to steal a bite of food from his own plate.

This was the first time these two silver-haired little loves of yours formed a coup. It wouldn’t be the last.

You roll your eyes at your husband and then peer down at the baby nestled in your arms, suckling without a care in the world.

“Traitor,” You whisper, the word laced with more than enough affection to negate the connotation before placing a loving kiss on the crown of Gale’s head.

*

Your little family is almost all the way home when Astarion stops dead in his tracks with a look of horror plastered upon his face. He peers down at the small bundle of blue and baby with wide-eyed surprise.

“What— what is it?!” You practically shriek, motherly instincts jumping into anxious overdrive as you reach for the child tucked safely against his father.

Astarion quickly grabs your hand, much like he grabbed Beatrice’s earlier, though with a decidedly more gentle clasp. You can tell by his lack of panic that Gale is safe, and your initial reaction begins to wane as the elf lowers your hand away from your son.

“He pooped, dear,” Your husband sighs, a sudden wave of weary exhaustion slapping the still-new father in his face, “And if you stick your hand in the wrap, it’s going to be all over you… because it’s all over Gale… and me.”

The look upon Astarion’s face is hilarious. And you can’t help it, you simply have to laugh at the new father clinging to what little patience he has.

“Not. Funny.” The retired rogue hisses, narrowing his eyes at you before walking briskly in the direction of the house.

There was roughly a half mile left to the front of the property and he seemed intent on crossing that distance at rapid speed, “From now on we are always taking the carriage into town. With extra clothes and supplies for all of us. I don’t care how much you abhor it, Tav. Walking this far with a needy infant and scant supplies is simply impractical and we are not arguing about this further.”

As if to prove a point, Gale begins to shriek like he is suddenly aware he’s covered in his own filth. The sound causes Astarion to practically break into a sprint, both arms coming to hold the infant fast against his chest. You run after the two, trying to keep up, but your husband is moving so quickly you’d think he’s still a vampire if you didn’t know better.

*

The little prince is now clean and perfectly pink as you rock him in the nursery. The early afternoon sun is shining through the window, casting the two of you in an ethereal backlight. Gale has forgotten all about the poop incident; his father, on the other hand, will never be able to let go of this particular memory.

Astarion sits in the nursery with you two, sipping a cup of tea. His wet curls hang around his ears, still occasionally dripping water onto his house clothes. He admires you, and the sunlight dancing in your hair, watching as you hum an Elvish lullaby to the sleepy infant in your arms.

His memories quickly flash at the sight.

The day you told him you loved him.

The day you two won the battle.

The day you accepted his proposal.

The day he saw you walking down the aisle.

The day you told him you were pregnant.

He thought you were the most beautiful in every one of those moments, each one always outdoing the previous.

But this vision of you, right now, happy and calm, rocking the little prince you two created?

This certainly outdid all those prior memories.

After two hundred years of pure shit, Astarion is beyond thankful to now have over a decade of better memories.

Though, he’s beginning to see the next decade will also be full of shit.

Just a different, and somehow better, kind.

[t-a-a-1]

The Darkest Hour

(TFP Optimus x Female Reader)

Summary:

After being labeled as crazy for trying to report that robot aliens exist on national television, you lose your job and move to Jasper City. In a drastic turn of fate, you meet Optimus Prime. You and Team Prime get together to find ancient relics that are vital to the Autobot's cause.

Along the way, you and Optimus start to develop feelings that go beyond comradeship.

But what happens when he discovers you've been lying all of this time?

……..

This story is a slow burn. Eventual smut. Optimus develops an unhealthy attachment (he is smitten, obsessed) to you but nothing OOC. Lots of yearning, craving, hurt, betrayal, erotic and that good stuff. Ok bye. In case of any questions, comments, concerns, suggestions, requests, etc, you may message me here. Thank you for reading! For A better reading experience you may read this story on Ao3.

>>> https://archiveofourown.org/works/60642838/chapters/154846393

Ch.1: The Crossroads Of Destiny

"During times of war, there is no good or bad. Everyone is a victim and an abuser. But it's good to remember that the best thing a person can do is to be kind and show mercy to the enemy."

Everyone needs a pep talk once in a while. Even Optimus Prime.

After the death of Cliffjumper, there wasn't much morale going around in the base. Just a very uncomfortable quietness. It was like an unspeakable agreement between Team Prime to never really speak of their feelings. Whether it had become customary to lose the ones they cared about, they didn't see the point.

It's a war after all.

"It takes one act of kindness to change people's hearts and everyone has the ability to change. Together we can transform this hateful world into one of peace."

Nonetheless, he found comfort in the small things. He wasn't fond of human entertainment but he deemed it necessary to learn the current happenings of the world. That was the main reason he installed a TV in his private quarters. With all the main news channels. He wasn't surprised to see robberies, murders, abuse and the constant wars. He was too familiar with it all.

But one day as he passed by one of the channels he found something, or rather someone who caught his attention.

"I believe anyone can be a hero."

The reporter always had something good to say. Just like him, this individual has been through countless wars and witnessed many misfortunes. Optimus knew this because he would never miss the news just to watch this specific reporter. Or if he did, he made sure to record it so he could watch it later. This human had somehow become a small hope for him. Encouraging words when he needed it the most.

"But the world will always need a true leader in the darkest hour."

And Primus knows he needs it.

.

.

.

"Reporting to you live, (Reader), CNF News."

You should have stopped being so biased and giving your opinion on everything when your boss first told you to.

You hated watching your old reports but you needed to see what was so wrong with them for CNF to fire you. Now you can see why.

Hero? Hope? Peace? Love?

You were young and stupid to believe in all of that. You had grown now and after seeing so much malice in this world, your opinion had completely changed.

Now you were in Jasper City. Not so much of a city more like a town. With its small population, they had a local news station that was willing to give you a job.

"I have insiders in the government telling me that aliens are real! I even have footage and locations where they have appeared!"

That was one of the few things you told your boss before he fired you. Of course, it wasn't just that. Your ticket out was trying to report your findings live on national television, with video, graphics and all. Of course, the station cut you off the broadcast the moment you started to sound like crazy.

But it was enough to ban you from all major broadcasting companies. Not even print media would accept you. Not the New York Times, not The Wall Street Journal, not even lifestyle magazines wanted you.

You had so much information to share. Like how you were able to track down locations that lead to items of alien origin. You didn't know what the items were for but by investigating ancient legends, you assumed that they were important.

"So, (Y/N), what are you going to be reporting on?"

Your new boss came into your small office. Not really an office but rather a desk that you shared with the other ten people.

"I've been investigating and on a few forums, it says that this town has a government base not too far from here," you typed in your laptop and quickly flipped it to show your boss various pictures. "Apparently, the base is used for weaponry manufacturing and other .... Illicit activities."

"Look, when we hired you, we didn't need a crazy alien believer," he put a hand on his eyes and moved it down his face, clearly frustrated. "We just needed someone who met deadlines."

"But isn't our job as journalists to bring the truth to the people? Don't you want to know where your taxes are going?"

"Look, this is Jasper City, the most interesting thing that has ever happened here is a pig that gave birth to another pig with two heads," he pointed to the wall and you followed it with your eyes. It was indeed, a newspaper cut out of the birth of a mutated pig.

"There is a new coffee shop opening tomorrow, why don't you report on that instead?"

"But, Mr. Jones-"

"Coffee shop. Tomorrow," he said in a commanding tone. "And upload the package on the rundown before midnight."

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You pulled out a lighter and started smoking a cigarette on the outside of a bar. You were planning on coming down from your car and drinking a beer. However, after careful consideration, you didn't want to deal with strangers. You didn't want any 'Are you new to town? Haven't seen you around."

You knew that would happen, after all, you came from a small city before moving to New York to be a reporter. Now you are back to a smaller town you weren't even familiar with.

You had gone to the coffee shop opening and turned in your report before the deadline.

From reporting on corruption, war and crimes ... you went to reporting ... whatever this was.

You looked outside your car and noticed a military vehicle parked in front of you. Two guys in uniform come out of it, stretching their arms and yawning.

"Do you think it's safe for us to let that box unguarded?"

"Yeah, it's just some papers. Nothing to worry about. We are close to base anyways, we deserve a beer for our hard work."

One of them carelessly put the truck's keys in his back pocket and as you expected, it fell to the ground.

"Old job, here I come."

You were in the back of the truck, looking at the documents that weren't too impressive. It was stuff you already knew. Alien artifacts were located in different parts of the world. Nothing new. Still, you decided to take pictures of it with your phone. You needed more time to read them, maybe they contained something you didn't know.

Nonetheless, you knew that wherever these documents were heading was going to be more interesting. So you decided to leave the truck keys in the front seat with the hope that the men wouldn't even question how they got there.

You were right. It was too easy to predict men.

You were heading to somewhere unknown, miles away from your new home and somehow it felt more liberating. Could you be killed by the government for doing this? Probably. But then again you've survived worse and you have nothing left to lose.

You hid and didn't make any sound. It's probably been around two hours of driving.

Everything was going smoothly.

Until the truck came to a complete stop. You almost hit your head as you lost balance.

Then, the vehicle moved uncontrollably as you heard the sound of a missile impacting it. You recognized the sound, you'd heard it before. Countless times while reporting the wars.

You did not only hit your head but other parts of your body as the truck rolled multiple times through the dry desert.

You were dizzy but still managed to hold onto the box. You saw the two soldiers come out of the truck, holding guns. Next, you heard shots.

You heard heavy steps. The type that made the ground tremble.

You came out of the truck, not caring anymore if the military men saw you. Curiosity was always your weakness and you needed to know what made a five-ton truck flip like a coin.

You held into the box like your life depended on it. Stepping into the fuel that was leaking from the truck. You saw the soldiers, helplessly shoot bullets to that thing.

A thing.

That's the best way you could describe it.

Made of metal. 20 ... No, 30 feet tall. Robot. Silver and grey. Red. Sharp ends. With missiles and guns at its disposal.

You stared at it with awe. It was good to know that you weren't crazy, that you were right. On the other hand, you don't know if you will live long enough to tell the world about it.

The enormous metal creature pointed at you with one of its missiles.

"You, give me that box."

It spoke.

You knew that aliens must have their ways of communication but speaking perfect English was something you didn't imagine.

"I won't ask again ... Give me that box."

He wanted the documents. You didn't know why nor wanted to find out. It didn't take much for you to realize that you indeed had important information. So much that an alien came looking for it. But your body didn't respond. It was your first time seeing something out of this world. In the dark night and the starry sky of Nevada, you suddenly felt so little. So insignificant and the realization made your body unable to move.

Then, there was light.

That of metal clashing. Of the little chemical reaction when two metals collide.

Another creature. Bigger and taller. Stronger. Red and blue and silver.  Punching in the face the creature that was threatening you. They engaged in a battle too fierce to be in front of.

Your attention was drawn towards the men who lay on the floor unconscious. The soldiers must have been knocked out during the intrication. Dropping the box, you ran towards them as the two creatures fought against each other.

You thought your ears would explode from each impact, from each crash. You checked their pulses, they were breathing, but you knew you were too weak to move them, especially with uniforms on.

"Give me that box."

You ran towards the box, falling in the way as the ground trembled. You have to think fast. Two titanic robots, fighting. The first one spoke to you, demanding the box. The second one came in to fight.

Who was good? Who was bad? You weren't sure. You only knew one thing.

This box was important. It's content at least. You weren't a hero but you knew this was bigger than you. Maybe the information gave the robots a way to conquer the Earth. Regardless, you couldn't afford to think about it too much.

The box was made out of carton. For such an important thing, it sure wasn't guarded safely. But this was the United States Government, you didn't expect much. It was already covered with fuel from the leaking truck.

People say smoking cigs is bad. Well, at least you always carry a lighter with you.

The aliens keep fighting. You thought of them as aliens because you couldn't describe them better than that. They weren't green and skinny, nothing like you imagined. They were more like giant robot aliens. Aliens that had guns and that each bullet was so loud that you felt your entire body shake within.

You dropped the lighter on top of the box and it immediately caught on fire. You ran as fast as you could away from it, as you knew that the fuel would travel to its place of origin, the truck.

The truck explodes, and you use your body to cover the bodies of the still-unconscious men.

"NO!"

You hear one of the creatures scream. Both creatures had their attention on the truck on fire. However, the silver one took a step back and in a blink of an eye, he transformed into a jet. It flew away and it went away just as fast.

You couldn't even afford the time to be in shock.

The red and blue creature slowly came towards you. It kneels in front of you and its face is covered by what you consider to be a battle mask but somehow, it made it disappear. Its face moves closer and closer, observing you, moving in ways that are not human. Yet, you didn't feel threatened, it's as if it was amused with your presence.

Suddenly, you hear whimpering and grunts of pain. One of the soldiers was waking up.

"Did ... Did we win?"

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"She wants to talk to you, Prime."

It wasn't like Optimus was waiting around because he didn't trust Agent Fowler's procedures. It was mostly because Ratchet was having difficulty opening up the groundbridge again.

"She's actually a very prestigious reporter ... before she started ranting about aliens, I mean she was right, but you know what I mean."

The whole area was guarded in a 100-meter diameter, not another human would enter without Fowler knowing. A few helicopters had arrived at the battle scene, fastly constructing tents. One is for the medics to treat the injured soldiers, and the other is for you, for a questionnaire. Everything was quickly contained.

"Why don't you take her for a ride and convince her to sign the confidentiality papers? ... I hate to use brute force on women."

He sees you walk out of the pre-made tent. You had a small blanket wrapped around your shoulders. Optimus sometimes forgets how delicate humans can be. The nights in the Nevada desert can be extremely cold and deadly for a small organism like you.

He looked at Fowler and the agent wasn't budging. He was waiting for him to take the next step.

Optimus vents heavily and transforms himself into his human-based design. A semi-truck with 18 wheels. He slowly drove towards you and when he got close enough, he opened the pilot door as an invitation to go inside.

You seemed hesitant but ultimately you walked towards him and got inside the truck. He closed the door for you and drove off into the distance.

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You couldn't keep your hands to yourself. You touched the steering wheel, the windows, the seats, the radio buttons, the stick shift. Everything looked and felt like it belonged in a regular truck. Yet, it did not feel inanimate. It all feels somehow alive. You were quiet, literally, inside a robotic alien.

"I do not wish to be rude, but would you be kind enough to stop touching me?"

The alien spoke to you.

"Oh, forgive me, does it hurt?"

The truck stays quiet. But you can feel that the hot air coming out of his vents becomes hotter for a few seconds.

"My name is Optimus Prime from the Planet Cybertron. I am-"

"The leader of the Autobots? And you are in a war against the Decepticons?"

Silence. It was even comical to you. The bot was probably tired and the last thing he wanted to do was deal with a pesky human. Not like you cared much.

"Yes," he simply responds. From this point forward, you knew that this is how most of your conversations with him would go. Short and straight to the point. You'll easily find common ground with him.

"Fowler gave me the rundown of things."

"Then I must ask ... why are you hesitant to sign the confidentiality contract?"

You didn't know where he was taking you. You thought that he is probably driving for the sake of it. He is a truck, after all, he must enjoy the drive. But the night is dark and everything around you made it eery.

"I am a reporter ... If I sign that contract my career is over. Can't talk about the government ever again," you weren't completely lying. "And I just happen to love exposing corruption."

"I know."

"You know?"

"I've seen a few of your works,' Optimus said, making a small pause. His voice is very pleasant, nothing like you expected from a robotic alien. "You speak of truth."

"It's the only way you can fight a war without violence," you try to be vague without giving out too much information. You can't trust someone you just met, especially not someone from another planet.

"And maybe the only way to win one."

"What do you wish for? What would make you sign the contract?"

"The truth," you said. "I want the truth."

"I will sign the contract under one condition," talking was one of your strengths. You let out one important fact, leaving you vulnerable. It was a risk but you needed to create the illusion that there was trust.

"I have the information that was in the box, stored in my personal phone. If you let me accompany you in retrieving these ancient items, I will sign those contracts without complaining."

Suddenly, Optimus comes to a slow stop. The middle of nowhere in Nevada's desert. Just a couple of mountains, some big rocks, and cactus. And of course, a clear night sky.

You see that the bot had locked the doors. You mentally curse yourself. Did he have some type of power that could read through you? You should probably have done better research before lying.

"Why do you want to venture yourself in such matters?"

It was your time to shine.

"No matter how much I try, the truth is not enough to fix my world. At least it won't happen during my lifetime," you say words that your old self would say. Maybe a small and tiny part of you still believed in it.

"I heard your world is not even habitable because of the war. Even after that, the Autobots and the Decepticons won't stop fighting."

"I was just taught a quick rundown of everything so I am sure there's still much to learn but," you think carefully about what you are going to say. It's cheesy and cringe but you could only hope that this robotic alien is a fool and can't see your human nature of deceiving others.

"By learning and telling the truth, you can build the base of a new future for your planet. I can't fix my world but I want to help fix yours."

There was no reaction from him. You started to get worried as seconds turned into minutes. He wasn't stupid either. He was testing you to see if you would break or say something suspicious.

"I'll allow you to accompany us during our expeditions if there are no risks."

You were about to let out a heavy sigh of relief but you stopped yourself. For all he knows, there was nothing to worry about since you were not lying.

"But you will be under my surveillance," he adds as he starts to drive once again. "Starscream has seen your face, we can't afford for you to be alone for long periods of time."

That's going to make your work a bit more complicated but you had to do everything in your power to get your old life back.

"It's a deal then."

Optimus makes a sharp turn, instantly making you fall from your sit. He wasn't the most delicate. He probably didn't even measure his own strength.

"We'll start immediately."

"Immediately?" you rubbed your head, surprised he didn't even apologize. He probably doesn't care or Cybertronians have different manners. There's much to learn. "Well, as long as I am back for work on Monday it should be fine. But can we leave tomorrow morning? I want to go home and rest."

You felt the hot air from his vents coming out stronger than before for a few seconds. You assumed this was his way of sighing, with much disappointment.

He didn't say much after that and you just waited until he spoke to ask you for directions. .

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You were renting a small home in the suburbs. You weren't sure if semi-trucks were allowed but one night should be fine. Prime wouldn't fit in your garage but the driveway gave him enough space.

Optimus opened his door for you and you jumped out. Stretching your legs felt nice, it was a bit chilly outside but nothing compared to the coldness of the desert. Turning to look at the Autobot, you wonder what you could say.

"Do you need anything?"

Did he drink water? Or oil? Did he need a bath? Did he even bathe?

"No."

His voice interrupted your thoughts.

"Alright then, if you need something, let me know," you said, trying your best to get some conversation going. "We are leaving as soon as the sun comes out."

He doesn't say a word. You didn't blame him, it was too much to expect him to trust you just after a couple of hours of knowing each other, and it's not like you could blame him. You wouldn't trust yourself either.

"Goodnight."

He doesn't reply.

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"I'll return in two days. I am on a special mission to seek for a Cybertronian relic. I was assigned to work with a human. I am unsure if the subject can be trusted. I'll keep the human away from the base until I conclude their trustworthiness. I'll explain more later. Do not worry."

Arcee, Bulkhead and Bumblebee looked at the message on the data screen as Ratchet read Optimus's message out loud.

"Seems like he had an interesting patrol night," Arcee said as she looked at Optimus' vitals on the screen. They looked normal. "Shouldn't we go with him?"

"If Optimus needs backup, he will ask for it," Ratchet also keeps looking at Optimus' vital signs. There weren't any abnormalities, nothing that would require him to come to the base. "Besides it's not like we can go to him even if we wanted to. I am still trying to fix the groundbridge."

This wouldn't be the first time Optimus would be assigned a solo mission by Agent Fowler. Everyone knows that as the leader, Optimus has to be on constant missions, taking jobs that are too dangerous. Not because he didn't trust the abilities of his team-mates but because he didn't want to risk the spark of the others.

"It's better if we stay here in case we find an energon mine."

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You did not dare to write your findings on the laptop. You weren't stupid. You knew very well that the wifi and your laptop must be rigged by the government by now. Watching and revising every search.

Instead, you opted for doing it the old way. Writing today's events on a notebook and little by little, fill it up with more information and most importantly, evidence.

You could already imagine it. Getting your job back. Being recognized as the best reporter of all time. The one who exposed the government and told the world about the existence of alien life. You will be set for life. You won't be a simple reporter anymore. No. Maybe, you'll become the CEO of CNF. Or even better, have your own news station.

That's if the government doesn't kill you before. You have to be extremely careful.

You look outside your window and see Optimus Prime. Agent Fowler didn't tell you much. Just that's he is a sentient being, with a strong sense of justice. Leader of the Autobots, a group of soldiers who fought against the Decepticons to gain control of their home planet.

Oh, how much you hated soldiers. Whether they were fighting for a good cause or not, it didn't matter to you. They all had blood on their hands. They all were guilty. Especially leaders who make others fight their useless war.

But your hatred won't get Optimus to trust you and you need to get as much information from him as possible.

You sigh. You were new here as well so you have a lot of boxes lying around. Nonetheless, you remember seeing an old tarpaulin in the garage, probably from the previous renter.

You look out the window again. It shouldn't hurt to try.

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Optimus finished texting to Agent Fowler. A simple text that explained the current situation and his next steps.

It had been a long night. He thought his patrol was going to go as smoothly as others before. But nothing turns out as he expects it.

He still doesn't know how you convinced him to let you come. It's not like he doesn't know who you are. He has never missed one of your reports. Regardless of everything, all the war, the pain and suffering you've seen, you always ended things on a good note.

It was the kind of thing he needed.

Words he needed to hear.

He is always wary of people. Of anyone in particular that hasn't proven to be worthy of trust.

And you?

He just knew you for a couple of hours. He would be lying to himself if didn't admit his spark glowed for a small moment when he saw you.

Against the lack of his better judgment, he wanted to accept you immediately. To show you the base, for you to meet everyone and become that individual with unbreakable morals that keeps the team together.

A duty bestowed upon him ... that he so wanted to share with someone. He has been carrying it for so long, it has become too difficult to carry it by himself.

Can someone ... Can anyone ... Please, help him?

He feels something on the back of his fifth wheel and suspension.

Optimus doesn't respond, pretending to be in resting mode. However, he is always alert. No matter how tired, he tries to be awake in between sleep cycles in case something happens.

That's how he noticed you approaching him, carrying a large plastic cover bigger than you. Dragging it and carelessly putting it over him.

He is curious but doesn't say anything.

"There you go, big guy."

You patted your hands and you finished covering him up.

"I don't know if you get cold but you can't never be too sure."

He sees you walk away, shivering a little as you enter your home once again.

A part of him wanted to answer your question. But he is left without words. Would you even care to listen to him? Care enough to listen to his long explanation about Cybertronian biology?

He wants to say so much. The archivist in him has so much knowledge to share, yet no one would listen.

"I don't get cold. At least not on these temperatures."

That would be the easy answer. The not-so-boring one.

But if given the time and patience, he could tell you all about the biology of it and the reason for it. About how their bodies were perfectly made to the image of Primus.

And you?

He wonders about the things you could share with him. The things he could learn from you.

You know the land better than him and have experienced things in this world that he has yet to experience ... or maybe never will.

He is so lonely. That's the truth of it all. He craves for a connection.

But of course, he won't allow it. Not to himself. Not ever.

At least, under the starry night, covered by a dirty tarpaulin, he can pretend that his worries no longer exist. As his only worry is the ache of his spark wondering if the stranger in the house could become what he needs.

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Ch.2: >>>

https://www.tumblr.com/t-a-a-1/767425691778203648/the-darkest-hour?source=share