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runnning-outof-time · 2 years ago

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I Did It Myself | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: no - written for @evita-shelby ‘s follower celebration

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x reader

Summary: (Y/N) has to take matters into her own hands after she gets taken by Luca Changretta.

Warnings: language, violence (typical to series), weapons, character death

Word Count: 3272

A/N: this was so very fun to write ... I tried my hand at writing a character in the tune of your lovely OC, Eva, although I still think that Eva is still more badass. Congrats on your amazing milestone @evita-shelby !! Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future stories similar to this one!

(Y/N) had had enough. It had been weeks now and the Shelby family was still stuck in Small Heath. The war with the Changretta family was still raging on, and it seemed as if it had no clear end in sight. Even though Tommy had managed to kill three of his men, Luca himself was still alive, which meant danger was still imminent. This also meant that (Y/N) still had to be sequestered in her old Watery Lane home. And she hated it.

Tommy insisted that she only leave the premises to either go to see Linda, Polly, or Ada, who were occupying other houses on Watery Lane. It wasn't safe for her to leave the confines of that street...he reminded her of that daily.

But going from doing so much at Arrow House to doing practically nothing in Small Heath was incredibly hard for her to adapt to. She often looked forward to when it was time to cook meals, which was surprising because she hated cooking. There was nothing else to do, though.

Today, however, (Y/N) had something planned. Instead of sitting inside and watching the world go by through a window, she was going to go out and enjoy herself. What would she do? She didn't quite know yet. But what she did know was she wanted to get as far away from Watery Lane as possible while still being within the Small Heath protection limits. Tommy left early in the morning. He was spending most of his time over at Charlie's yard; planning with his brothers and the other men, or working on perfecting his gin recipe...which was still a little too sweet for (Y/N)'s liking.

She waited until mid-day to go out on her own, after making sure that she looked presentable, of course. This was the first time in weeks that she had a reason to wear something other than a house dress, and she surely was going to make the most of it.

The Lane was quiet; people were either off at work or content inside their house. This benefitted (Y/N), because it meant that she didn't have anyone who would be going to her husband with the intent of telling on her. Everything seemed to be going to plan.

The first place she went was to a café that sat just two streets over. She got herself some tea and some pastries, happy to be eating something other than her own bland cooking. After sitting and enjoying herself there, she continued on down a few more streets until she made it to her favorite consignment store in the city. Dolly's as it was called, was run by an elderly woman who, you guessed it, went by the name Dolly. She was always very friendly and happy to see her repeat customers. She and (Y/N) had developed a sturdy relationship over all of the times that the younger woman had visited the shop.

"(Y/N)!" Dolly cheered as (Y/N) walked through the door.

"How are you, Ms. Dolly?" (Y/N) asked with a wide smile, happy to see some familiar faces after being alone for so long, "it's been a while, hasn't it?"

"It most certainly has," the other woman agreed with her, "I've been getting by. How have you been?" she then flipped the question back onto (Y/N), who had finally reached the counter.

"Oh, I've been fine," (Y/N) answered, letting out a slight sigh. "Things have been a bit hectic since Tommy's been dealing with a...a problem with the company, but we've been alright," she then disclosed, unsure of how much detail to go into.

Dolly's facial expression told her that she already knew more than what was just said to her. "Oh, yes...I've heard," she responded in a voice that clearly showed her shock of the situation, "those Shelby boys'll figure it out though...they always do," she finished her statement with some assuring words, which made (Y/N) smile. It was evident that the whole of Small Heath was still rallying behind the Shelby family, and that alone made (Y/N) feel proud.

"Here's hoping," (Y/N) said, nodding her head slightly before Dolly allowed her to go and peruse the wares that had been on display.

After finding two small jewelry pieces that she liked, (Y/N) made her way back over to the register. "Find anything special?" Dolly asked as the younger woman sat the items down on the counter.

"Just these two little things," (Y/N) responded as she pulled the correct amount of billnotes out of her purse, "I think they'll fit well with several of the dresses I have back at home."

"They're lovely pieces. You have such magnificent taste, (Y/N)," Dolly praised her, her kind words making (Y/N) smile slightly.

"Thank you, Dolly," the younger woman smiled before she pulled two more notes out of her purse and slipped them over to her. "For being a familiar face," she said, sending the older lady a wink.

"Thank you, darling," Dolly smiled widely, "take care now," she said her goodbye as (Y/N) turned and made her way back to the door of the shop.

She made her way back onto the street, deciding that she would walk even further from home and maybe sit on a bench at the park for a while. It was a beautiful day out...she was going to make the most of it.

She'd only gotten about a block down the road when someone called out to her: "it's rather brave of you to be out walking alone considering everything that's going on, Mrs. Shelby." It was a man, and his voice was coming from the passenger's side of the car that had slowed down next to her.

"I'm doing fine, thank you," she responded, barely glancing in their direction as she continued walking. She hoped that her disinterest in having a conversation would make them keep driving...although she couldn't quite shake her suspicions behind their reaching out. He spoke in an unfamiliar accent.

"Let us drive you home. Get you some place safe again," the guy called again as he continued to coast down the road alongside her.

"I said I'm fine," (Y/N) repeated her previous answer, stressing her words a bit more now.

"I don't think you picked up on it...this isn't up for your choice," he continued on, his voice dropping slightly.

"I said I'm ok," (Y/N) continued on with her insisting, stopping so that she could finally look at the man.

"Get in the fucking car," another man's voice came out of nowhere beside her, and the slightest glance in his direction made (Y/N) realize that he was holding a gun.

“Do you know who you’re messing with?” she asked, still standing her ground.

The men were persistent though. “We know exactly who you are, and that’s why you’re coming with us. So get in the fucking car,” the one standing beside her said as he then grabbed her arm and began walking her to the car’s rear door. She should have screamed...she knew she should have, but nothing would come out. So she gave in to their demands and got into the car. She’d have to fool them if she wanted to get herself out of this situation.

Some time later, the car pulled into the back lot of a hotel building. (Y/N) wondered how they were able to make it this far without being detected, but still managed to keep up her act. If things were going to go the way she was hoping, she’d have to make these men think that she was helpless and like putty in their hands.

Soon enough, she was sitting in a chair in an otherwise empty room. There was nothing physically holding her to the chair; the two men who brought her there were standing on either side of her. Her plan was definitely going as she’d hoped it to.

Not after long, the man, who up until this point she’d only heard about, entered the room. Luca Changretta. He was donning a rather nicely tailored three piece suit, and he had a cocky smirk on his face. Surely he felt like he had the upper hand in this whole feud now.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” he asked as he came closer to where (Y/N) was sitting. “(Y/N) Shelby...what a pleasure it is to meet you. I see you haven’t been following your husband’s orders of staying off the streets,” he continued, tutting at her wrong doings.

“My husband isn’t in charge of what I do in my own time,” she snapped back at him, feeling annoyed at the fact that she was expected to do as Tommy said and not bat an eyelash.

“Oh, he’s not...but what you’ve decided to do with your own time is now going to kill him,” Luca stated, his words making (Y/N)’s eyes widen slightly. He only laughed at the reaction he’d caused. “You thought that we took you to kill you? No, sweetheart...we want to end this thing once and for all, and you’re going to be the one that brings him to us.”

(Y/N) felt her stomach drop at his words, and at once, the severity of the situation kicked in. She hadn’t thought of this possibility...that Luca would use her as bait to bring Tommy in, and she kicked herself for that. “You can’t possibly fool him like that,” she tried to defy him, hoping that her true emotions wouldn’t show.

“We’re surely going to try,” Luca was still grinning.

The door to the room opened before anything else could be said. “Mr. Changretta, Mr. Solomons is on the phone for you,” the man announced, making Luca finally look away from (Y/N).

“I’ll be right in for it,” Luca answered the man, who then left the room, before he turned back to (Y/N) and the help he had standing on either side of her. “Watch her, huh? This call shouldn’t take long,” he addressed the men before looking at the woman, “and you, think of what you’ll say to your husband...it’ll be the last time you speak to him.”

With that, Luca left the room. (Y/N) glanced up at the guards before she stared straight ahead at the door of the room. She couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling bubbling up in her stomach. There was a way out of this...she knew that much. But what it was wasn’t so clear to her yet. Yet.

Like Luca had said, it wasn’t long before he returned to the room. The cocky smirk was still apparent on his face as he came to a stop in front of (Y/N). “Our second option still needs some convincing, but we may not need it thanks to this darling right here,” he told his men before looking down at (Y/N), “have you decided what you’ll be saying?” he asked her then, his one eyebrow quirked.

“I have,” she kept her response short, nodding her head as she swallowed thickly.

“Good,” Luca nodded before snapping his fingers at the man on the left, “bring in the phone,” he ordered. The man nodded, leaving the room before hurrying back in with the phone in his hands, its chord trailing behind him. It only took a few seconds before Luca was talking with the receiver up to his ear. “Mr. Shelby...thank you for answering my call. I have someone here that wants to talk to you,” he said, his grin growing as he handed the receiver over to (Y/N). ‘Speak’ he mouthed to her.

“Hi...hi, Tommy,” she said, hating how shaky her voice was. At least it helped play into her charade.

“(Y/N)?” Tommy sounded extremely confused, “(Y/N), why are you with Luca Changretta?”

“His men found me. They brought me to where he’s staying. I’ll tell you where it is in a moment, but you need to come get me,” she said, speaking slowly as a way to try and keep her nerves down.

“I’ll come get you. Yeah, I’ll get you and then I’ll put a bullet in that fucker’s brains for thinking he could lay a hand on me wife,” Tommy responded with anger in his voice. She didn’t need to see him to tell how worked up he was getting. She took a deep breath to keep herself calm.

“Just come get me, ok?”

“I will. What’s the address, (Y/N)?” Tommy almost immediately insisted.

“It’s the one on Drinker Street,” she answered, not being too specific. Before Tommy was able to comment on that, she continued: “don’t forget to put the tea on before you leave...I might want some when I come home.”

Tommy froze after hearing her words. That was their sentence. The code they made up for ‘stay in place and I’ll get myself out of this’ so many years ago. Her tone was serious, so he knew he had to believe her. He had to stay back and hope that she’d be able to get herself out of this. “Ok,” he said as he exhaled a breath, “I’ll put the tea on and then I’ll come get you,” he played along just in case the lines were bugged. He knew that (Y/N) would understand what he was saying though. He wouldn’t be leaving his spot until he heard from her again.

“Ok. I love you, Tommy,” she added to make the situation more believable before the phone line went dead and the conversation ended. “He’s on his way,” she told Luca in a monotone voice, her words making his grin grow.

“Perfect,” he said, snapping his fingers at one of the guards before waving for the man to follow him out of the room. The man obliged, leaving (Y/N) in the room with the other guard.

“You realize you’ve just sent your husband to the slaughter,” the guard spoke up once the door shut, a similar cocky grin on his face.

“I do, and I’d like you to not mention it again,” she snapped, taking a deep breath then to try and control her emotions. She was going to need to be calm and collected if she wanted this plan she’d thought up to go as planned. A long period of silence went by before (Y/N) cleared her throat and spoke up again: “could you please give me my purse at least. My throat’s dry and I need a lozenge,” she made her ask believable by clearing her throat again.

The man let out a huff but pushed himself off of the wall and made his way to the table that stood on the other side of the room. (Y/N) watched him carefully, grinning internally at the fact that her plan was going off without a hitch. Dumb man, she thought to herself as the guard grabbed the purse and brought it to her. “Here you go,” he said, extending it to her.

She accepted it and made it seem as though she was rummaging through it for a few moments. Then, in one swift motion, she grabbed the knife that she always kept in the bag’s bottom. She then stood up and took a few steps towards the man who was still retreating back to his original spot. She wrapped her one arm around him to stop his movements before swinging the other arm around so that she’d be able to plunge the knife into his chest. The man yelped, but (Y/N) quickly silenced him, pushing him against the wall and bringing her hand up to cover his mouth before she began repeatedly plunging the knife into his chest. She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, repeating the motion a few more times for good measure before leaving the weapon stuck in his chest for good. The man’s eyes widened and dulled as she then stepped back from him, allowing him to slump lifelessly to the ground.

After taking a deep breath to contain herself, she wiped the splattered blood off of her face and then quietly walked towards the door. Opening it ever so slowly, she then peeked her head out to see that the larger room of the suite was indeed empty. She shook her head and grinned, realizing that her plan had worked out perfectly. There surely wasn’t an inkling in their minds that she could manage to escape. So she quickly managed to make her way down the side fire escape, moving as quietly as possible to get down to the ground from the third floor.

The sun was starting to set at this point, which made it easier for (Y/N) to slip into the alleyways that she knew like the back of her hand. Soon enough, she was making her way back onto Watery Lane.

She knocked on the door of her and Tommy’s home gently and waited for someone to come to it. A good bit of time had passed since she made the call to her husband, so she hoped that he’d returned to the house for the night.

Her hopes were answered moments later when the door swung open to reveal a very worried looking Tommy. “(Y/N),” he breathed, exhaling a sigh of relief as his eyes swept over his wife; who was covered in splattered blood. “You’re back...you’re ok,” he said, then taking her arms into his hands so that he could bring her in closer to him. “Are you ok?” he flipped the second part of his original statement into a question.

“I’m fine,” (Y/N) answered, a dejected look in her eyes. She had had a long day and was more than ready for a warm bath and sleep.

“What about Luca? What about the men? Did you inflict any casualties?” he asked, his eyes still slightly frantic.

“I killed the man that was guarding me. There was no one else left in the hotel room when I left,” she explained to him, internally hating to he was now putting her through a questioning session.

“I’ll have men watching over you now...now that Luca’s realized that his plan didn’t go the way he wanted,” he assured her, but (Y/N) shook her head.

“No, Tommy. I don’t need men. I’m fine by myself, because I did all of that myself. There’s nothing your men can do that I can’t,” she told him, putting her foot down on the situation before she was finally able to begin walking to the stairs in the house. Before she was on the second floor, she stopped, “oh...Alfie Solomons called Luca while I was there. They’re concocting some sort of plan,” she informed him as she twisted back to look at him.

“No,” was all he said in response, a look of disbelief on his face. There was no way that Alfie would go behind his back again...not after what happened to him and his son.

“Yes,” (Y/N) insisted, nodding for an additional effect. “Believe me, or not...I don’t care at the moment. I’m going to go take a bath, see that Charlie is sleeping, and go to bed. I’ve had enough of everything for today,” she said, letting out a long sigh before she turned around again and continued up the steps to go and do just that.

Tagged: @alreadybroken-ts @mgcllovdrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @golden-hoax @elenavampire21 @peaky-cillian @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @easilyobessedbutflighty @shelbydelrey @december16-1991 @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @sunsetmourners @anotherblinder @midnightmagpiemama @cillmequick

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#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x y/n #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic

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eroticcannibal · 2 years ago

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Hey Risu I think ud have some sound advice about this... I want to learn to draw n be an artist (digitally) but my brain screams when I try cos I'm new n not good at all and idk how to counteract the brain so I can draw shitty things until I get good.... It's hard to have fun when my brain is saying I'm shit and should quit :( Any advice? (I love ur art on ur art blog BTW... Ur art is good but like, not what I'm used to seeing and it's kinda nice to see how a hobby artist art looks cos I'm so used to more professional artists who take comms on twitter)

I was thinking of doing some of my shitty art to song lyrics (they're some of my fav, I draw my ocs in some sort of pose and then slap the lyrics on top in fancy font text or write it on my drawing tablet by hand) - and just don't care how bad it looks but I'm unsure if I can get my brain to not scream at me for not being enough long enough to do it :(

Any advice would be nice <3 p.s. My art is so bad it's like a kid trying to draw (derogatory but only at me) n I don't really have anyone in my life for support cos if it's not good they don't care :/// (well I have one friend, he's also a hobbyist as well, rarely draws cos he has the same issue of not being good and perfect type deal)

Oh hey its how I feel about my art 24/7 (and how most artists do!) So I will run u through all the things I find helpful

Listen. Brains are little bitches, ok? They LIE. They are MEAN. You need to practice telling ur brain to shut up. Like "hey, thats not fucking nice, I'm not listening to u until u have something helpful to say!" And its hard, cus its you, but with practice it gets easier to ignore ur brain being on one. Treat it like a toddler who is kicking off and calling u mean names cus u won't give it chocolate. "Thats nice dear im busy with my art". Like u gotta remember, for anyone trying to get started with art, it looks like a kid trying to draw because that's when most people stopped drawing. Same with any other skill u stop in childhood. My kid struggled so much with handwriting due to being ND that it switched to typing and guess what? Still has the handwriting u would expect from a small child. Because it stopped writing as a small child. I have the coordination with running and throwing of a young kid cus thats when I stopped doing sports. People who stop reading books young will find it harder to read books for an older audience. U do those kiddy drawings, do lots of them, you WILL get better.

Another thing. Heres a secret. For every artist, the majority of what they produce is shit. No really, all of them. Not just the crap you have to produce to git gud, but like, every amazing piece of art you have seen has like at least 5 fucked up sketches that got scrapped. Whole bits of painting that got covered up. All art is made up of mistakes and fuck ups. And even if u are sat there going wow this is perfect! The artist is DYING because they can see a hundred little mistakes that u cant. Art is all about perspective and honestly the perspective of the artist is the worst one. We are too familiar with the details to see our art for what it really is.

The thing that helped me most tho was when I went to art museums in Paris. I saw so much "good" art and im like. OK. This is technically good I guess? But it was kinda meh. The museum of modern art was the most disappointing cus, and listen I stan modern art ok there was some good shit in there, but there was a fucking rack of skis. Someone gone bought some skis and put them away and thats art. Hello? Oh someone painted some squares and came up with some deep meaning and im meant to be impressed. And then I go outside for a fag and I open tumblr and see some crappy 2 minute MSpaint vent art and u know what? It made me fucking feel. It make me feel like NOTHING in that museum had. Who is fucking deciding what "good" art is? I dont remember being consulted! I dont think I fucking agree that "good" art is good! I think shit art is good! Some fucking ship art scribbles has more meaning for me than the fucking mona Lisa, yknow?

And then I went to an exhibit of Picasso's sketches and doodles. Napkins with little scribbles on and shit. And they were so normal. Nothing impressive. And it was wonderful. I've done better sketches! I promise u u have done better than some of that stuff. Honestly so many artists aren't even "better", they're just successful. And idk but I think success is a poor way to measure arts worth.

There is a genuine magic to a hobby artist just. Doodling what makes them happy. Not for money, not for fame, not for skill, just because they want to. Art for arts sake, yknow?

Also I understand it can be very hard to share ur work but I would encourage u to do so with ppl u trust to give u fair feedback. Feel free to send me what u make I will be more than happy to tell u how great it is

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kookingtae · 4 years ago

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falling into you (pt. 8) PREVIEW

pt 1 | pt 2 | pt 3 | pt 4 | pt 5 | pt 6 | pt 7

→scenario: Jungkook’s innocence is like a breath of fresh air in your wild life, and though you know you’re toxic for him, you just can’t seem to stay away.

→genre: college au, slow burn, mutual pining, shy/nerd jk + bad girl oc (mature themes)

→a/n: so i’m not finished with pt 8 yet, since it’s such a climactic chapter it’s taking a bit longer than i anticipated unfortunately BUT i dont want u guys to think ive forgotten about it!!! i know u all are waiting so patiently, and i cannot thank you enough from the bottom of my heart <3 i hope this preview keeps you excited for what’s to come!

Jungkook could never face Y/N again.

God, how could he, knowing that he’d not only finished in five minutes like a pubescent teenager, but also in his pants while she was on top of him?

Embarrassment didn’t even begin to describe the mortification he felt. He’d never wanted the earth to swallow him whole as much as he did in that moment. Sure, he was aware of his slight social anxiety, the way he was constantly looking to bolt from uncomfortable situations—but this was different entirely. This was new territory for him; he’d never done anything remotely sexual with someone else, period, much less with the girl who hung the stars, moon, and sun in his eyes. What was he supposed to do? There was nowhere to escape to in his own bedroom, no running away from his problems that made him uncomfortable. No, he had to stand there with his head down and his crotch dripping wet while he practically begged her to leave. He had never been so ashamed of himself. He had never felt so pathetic.

But then Y/N surprised him like she never failed to do: she’d given him reassurance, another kiss even, while telling him that she actually enjoyed the experience—went so far as to say it was the best in her life. Now he knew she was lying to spare his feelings. Of all the men Y/N had been with, there was no way a virgin cumming untouched in his pants was the best of them. She was cruel to make him believe otherwise, to give him false hope.

He wouldn’t allow himself to think any differently. He couldn’t allow himself to get hurt.

Which was why he made it his mission to avoid her at all costs—something he’d gotten very good at over the past few months, and the past few weeks, specifically.

But in the same way he’d learned from the patterns of her daily routine and used them as a means to remain hidden, she’d also learned his and utilized them to her advantage as well. It was the only explanation as to how he was turning a corner inside the art building (about to take the rear exit, since she usually waited for him out front) and suddenly she was standing right in front of him.

He instantly skidded to a halt, heart rate shooting to astronomical levels and eyes widening on their own accord. “Y-Y/N,” he stuttered out involuntarily, the sight of her causing every single detail of their time spent together to come rushing back to him like a tidal wave ready to wipe him out.

As if he needed another excuse to think about the moment they shared that had changed him forever, about the way her moans sounded in his ear and her body felt on his lap and the way she touched his cheek, his neck, the way her lips felt on his skin, god help him—

Already he could feel the beginnings of a blush start to rise to his suddenly hot cheeks, and he cleared his throat and shifted his weight from one foot to the other to keep from springing yet another boner in front of her.

He slid his books in front of his waist, just in case.

While she usually approached him with the natural ease of self-confidence and charm, today she seemed worried, unsure. She chewed at her lower lip—something he didn’t think she really ever did, as he would certainly remember the way it stirred within him—and looked up at him beneath delicate lashes that framed her eyes.

He didn’t have it in him to keep from outright staring at her beauty.

“I… I missed you,” she finally murmured, and he felt the breath physically whoosh from his lungs to join his butterfly-filled stomach all the way at the floor.

It had been a few days since he’d last seen her, since she’d been in his room that night where they opened up about their past and confessed how they truly felt about one another and shared the most life-altering moment he’d ever experienced. He missed her too, god he missed her. He missed everything about her the moment she left his side—would picture her face in his mind as soon as she left his field of vision. But for some reason unknown to him, she was too kind to him, spared his feelings despite knowing what little experience he had. There was no way he’d be able to satisfy a girl—mentally, physically, emotionally—who could have anyone she wanted. Perhaps she pitied him. Either way, if she wouldn’t put a stop to it, then he would.

Or so he’d try, but alas, nothing ever went according to his plans where Y/N was concerned. And here she was, three simple words mumbled into existence and he couldn’t even remember his own name, much less why he’d been trying to fight this.

She seemed to expect he would say nothing—either that or she’d grown used to his silence—because before he had enough sense in him to even think about responding, she was speaking again. “How have you been?”

The question was asked with deliberate, genuine curiosity and concern; she really wanted to know if he was okay, how he was handling things after what had transpired between them. And no matter how hard Jungkook tried to fight this, fight her, fight himself, he was only human.

And so he stopped fighting.

“I– I missed you too,” he breathed out, and it was like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders and relocated to his gut. He tensed at his confession, mentally berated himself for his words even though she’d been the one to say them first. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, what with the way his throat locked up.

Though the second he witnessed the smile that sprang to her tantalizing lips, he felt as light as a feather floating in the breeze.

“You did?” Her eyes lit up, sparkled under the fluorescent hallway lights that still managed to capture all of her beauty despite the unflattering lighting. He didn’t think it was possible for any scenery, not even that of a dull and stuffy university building, to make her appear any less breathtaking than she always was.

“I was so worried after I left last week,” she continued without prompt. The mention of his premature finish had him stiffening in dread, though she didn’t let enough silence fester between her words for the anxiety to claw its way up his throat. “I didn’t want you to beat yourself up. I’ve noticed you tend to be too hard on yourself sometimes.” She glanced up at him with the hint of a sheepish grin dancing on her lips.

Her expression said it all: that’s an understatement.

And this shocked him to his core, because she was absolutely right.

Just how well had she gotten to know him in their time spent together over the last few months? And how? And why?

The last question would always boggle him until the end of time; he would never understand why she was interested in him. Why was he the one she had feelings for, when she claimed she never had feelings for anybody? Though he supposed he could ask himself the same thing: why did he feel things for Y/N that he had never felt for anyone else in his life? And the answer was quite simple, really: because it was her.

He didn’t know what about himself was so special to make him stand out in her mind, and as a result he still couldn’t help but be skeptical, even after her confession. But it wasn’t like he had any choice in the matter on what to do with that skepticism—not when his heart kept leading him back to her.

At some point after her accurate description of the inner turmoil that’s been plaguing his mind, his mouth had fallen open slightly. He couldn’t hide the surprise from his face even if he tried; he was speechless.

Y/N gazed up at him, not seeming in any hurry to rush the conversation along, and for that he was grateful. He’d never met somebody so patient and understanding before—just another reason to make Jungkook’s heart flutter with endearment. And it was no secret to himself anymore that he yearned to be in Y/N’s presence for as long as possible whether he was aware of it or not.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed, you know,” she continued as if she could read his mind, and that was when he realized the way his eyes avoided hers and the fact that his skin was the color of tomatoes must’ve been dead giveaways. “I meant it when I said that was the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced.”

Jungkook balked, practically choking on his spit at her forward, shameless words. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to the way she spoke her mind so openly without any fear holding her back. She’d gone through so much in her childhood, in her life—Jungkook not even knowing the half of it, he’s sure—and yet she was still so strong and brave and everything he wasn’t. He couldn’t help but admire the person she was today, despite all the prejudice and judgment he’d held for her when they first met.

He realized now that he was too quick to judge her, to write her off based on rumors and first impressions. He realized now that he was too quick to do that to a lot of people. Just how long had he closed himself off from others based on his skewed, morally righteous perspective? His whole life, if he had to say.

The epiphany that she was physically prying open his third eye with a crowbar, that he was now self aware and changing for the better for her—for himself—hit him all at once.

It was the most frightening sensation of his life, the introvert in him wanting to crawl back into his shell where it was safe and comfortable and dull. But deep down he knew it was also for the best.

“W-why?” He heard himself asking before he knew what he was doing. “Why do you keep saying that?”

He had to know why she insisted on standing by her statement that his mishap was not only hot, but the hottest ever. Why did she insist on lying to him, on giving him false hope? She spoke her mind in every other situation, or at least that’s what he assumed; why did she insist on sparing his feelings in this incident? Was he really that pathetic? Did she pity him that much?

She simply blinked at him once, twice, before: “Because I really like you, Jungkook.”

As if in slow motion, you could visibly see his eyes expand to the size of saucers at your words.

You would’ve found the sight comical had the situation been any different. But the way he continued to disbelieve that you could have feelings for him, that you could be attracted to everything about him despite who he was, despite his inexperience—it made your heart break in your chest. You now knew from where this inferiority complex stemmed—he’d told you himself about his family situation—and if anything, it made you want to rebuild his confidence that much more. He needed to see himself the way you saw him.

But you also didn’t want to overwhelm him, either. And you were more than willing to walk that fine line with Jungkook no matter how long it took.

“So are we on for a study sesh tonight?” You continued nonchalantly, wanting to return things to normalcy for him as much as possible before he ran away mid-conversation as he’d done so many times before. You wanted to ease his self-doubt so he’d stop avoiding you—like he’d been doing the past few days—as much as possible.

Jungkook blinked as if trying to adjust from the whiplash of your subject-change. “U–uh… if you want?”

“Of course I want to,” you replied without missing a beat, not caring how desperate you seemed so long as he didn’t question where you stood. You took a step forward, unable to help the intangible, magnetic draw you felt to him as you gazed up at him beneath your lashes. “That is… if you want to.”

You watched in agony as a gulp slowly raked its way down his throat.

“I–” his voice was hoarse before he cleared his throat. “I uh, can’t tonight. I have to study for math.”

You weren’t even sure how one studied for math, but you weren’t about to question the expert. “That’s fine! We could… do it tomorrow?”

Jungkook chewed at his bottom lip, an action he always did when he was internally struggling with something before he finally nodded his head yes in a slow, hesitant manner. “N–not in my room though,” he added as an afterthought, and when your gaze snapped to his he had a pleading expression in his eyes.

A mix of emotions rolled through you. On one hand, you were horrified at the possibility that he thought the only reason you wanted to study again was so that you could get in his pants. Which—okay, you’re not going to lie, you would love to have a repeat of last week—but that definitely wasn’t why you wanted to see him. He meant more to you than just a means to get off, which was what you’d thought of flings in the past. You didn’t want him to be just a fling, though.

You didn’t want to think of the meaning behind that fact right now, either.

But on another hand, you understood where Jungkook was coming from. Maybe it was because you’d studied him enough over the past few months to learn some of his behavior (for once you finally saw the appeal of studying), so you knew that level of intimacy was probably extremely overwhelming for Jungkook and he needed a moment to step back. Hell, it was even overwhelming for you, and that was saying something. Never had your senses, your heart, your body, your soul been attacked like that with such an abundance of emotional pleasure, and you hoped with all your might that Jungkook was feeling the same—that that was the reason he needed a breather from being alone with you, and not the fact that he just didn’t want to be intimate with you.

Unless…

Oh god, had you misread the situation entirely? Had Jungkook hated everything about that night?

Suddenly you were feeling sick to your stomach. The thought of you misunderstanding his confession—or worse, him changing his mind completely—made you want to escape to a dark and desolate stairwell and cry in the hidden nooks of the windowsill again; the irony that not only would you be pulling a Jungkook by escaping mid-conversation, but that the stairwell was also the place the two of you had your first real conversation, wasn’t lost on you.

“M–my roommate is staying in, studying for finals.” The sound of Jungkook’s voice was like a breath of fresh air whooshing into your lungs after almost drowning underwater. You blinked out of your inner turmoil, focusing on him. “So he’ll be there, i–in my room, this whole week.”

And suddenly your heart was warming with relief, hope, appreciation, like flowers blooming in the spring after a torrential downpour. Just when you thought you had him figured out, this enigma of a boy continued to surprise you. It was usually easy for you to hide your emotions—you’d been doing so for years, always wore a mask around others so that they couldn’t see the real you—and yet somehow, Jungkook must’ve sensed them anyway. He sensed the doubt, the pain, the fear that you vowed never to cage you crawling up your throat and threatening to consume you whole, and he eased it. He didn’t want you to misunderstand him. He wanted to reassure you.

If anything, that was just a testament to how Jungkook had broken down your walls—how much you had let him in, how well he was able to read the emotions you wanted to keep hidden. Your mask had begun to break, the real you showing through the cracks, and Jungkook was still standing here. He hadn’t run away.

You fought the urge to grab him and slam your lips onto his.

“Not in your room, then,” is all you managed to breathe out beneath a fluttering smile.

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts fanfic #bts smut #jungkook scenario #bts x reader #bts scenario #i hope this is good enough for the time being!!! im sorry its taking me so long to get pt 8 posted #u guys are the best i love u <3333

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zurxmxru · 3 years ago

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“With you it was different, it was more fun.”

a/n: woo!! I’m finally finished with this little thing I wrote!! I’m pretty proud of it ngl,, for context I found this writing prompt and thought it would work perfectly with Meohara in a scenario where they are both school idols,, [those of u who don’t know Meohara is an oc ship between my oc Hibiki and my friend @frogeloise‘s oc Ava,, they’re canonically childhood friends and I adore this ship a lot!!] so anyway!! I hope u enjoy this thing I wrote,, apologizes if it isn’t the best,,

[SUMMARY: Hibiki is in a slump and can’t think of lyrics when her group has practice after class and is worried and stressed out over it. Luckily, her childhood friend, Ava is in the same idol group as her and tries mews best to comfort her while they were on their way to practice.]

It was the afternoon. Around 1:00 and classes were almost over. After that, well, Hibiki would have to attend practice for her school’s idol club. She tried to not focus on her idol activities though, as she wanted to try and pay attention to what was happening in math.

But she couldn’t help but think about how practice was going to go for her. Practice is always fun, but she was stuck in a slump and haven’t thought of lyrics for the song the group was going to preform soon. How would she explain that? She doesn’t want the others to be mad at her—.

But then, her train of thought was suddenly interrupted when her math teacher called on her.

“Miss Saihara?” The teacher asked. “Could you please come up to the board and answer this equation?”

Hibiki gulped and slowly arose from her seat and walked over to the whiteboard. All eyes where on her, everyone was looking at her and all the attention made her anxious. Once she got to the front of the class, she glanced around at everyone. Some students where snickering to themselves quietly while others watched her quietly. Internally, Hibiki was freaking out. But the teacher still handed her the red marker to solve what was written on the board. “Now, we already went over this twice, so you should know how to solve it by now.” The teacher stated.

But the thing was, Hibiki didn’t know. She was too busy thinking about how practice was going to play out at the school idol club to even focus on math. And now, if she writes the wrong answer, she’s bound to be made fun of by the other kids in class. She was about to write her answer on the board when, just in the nick of time, the bell had finally ranged. Singling the end of the period.

“Ah, it seems like we’re out of time for today.” The teacher let out a sigh. “Okay class!” The teacher called out to the class. “We will pick this up tomorrow, no homework for today!”

Most if not everyone in Hibiki’s class cheered and rejoiced over the fact that they weren’t going to be assigned homework. While Hibiki took a deep sigh of relief and went to go put away her things. Thank god the bell ringed just in time before she could make a fool out of herself. A few minutes later, and almost everyone had left the classroom. It was a lot quiet, and empty now. Hibiki was just about done packing up and was about to leave, but she was hesitant.

How am I going to explain that I didn’t think of any lyrics for the song? She thought to herself. They’re all going to be upset with me, and we have a live to perform soon too.. Hibiki had an unsure, yet gloomy expression on her face and frowned slightly. “W-What am I going to do n-now..?” She muttered quietly.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a familiar person appeared in front of the exit of the classroom. Just when Hibiki was about to leave, her childhood friend, Ava showed up. The tan skinned girl was holding her knees and panted, trying to catch her breath. She was wearing the same uniform as Hibiki but mew was drenched in sweat. “I-I— I finally found you— H-Hibiki—“ Mew said in the mist of catching her breath, trying her best to make a coherent sentence. “A-Ava.? A-Are you okay.!?” She asked as she ran over to her friend while carrying her school bag. Hibiki now had a concerned look on her face.

Ava finally looked up at Hibiki, with halos eyes meeting hers. And eventually, Ava finally caught mews breath. “Oh.. Yeah, I’m fine. I was looking for you actually..”

Hibiki’s eyes widened with surprised “M-Me.? For what.?”

Ava stood up and mews eyes looked to the side, avoiding eye contact with Hibiki while twirling mews hair. “Well.. I was hoping we could go together. To the school idol club.” Ava responded.

“Eh? R-Really.?” Hibiki felt a sense of comfort when Ava said that. I mean, they’ve both known each other ever since kindergarten and they are extremely close. So, it’s normal to have that type of feeling, right?

“Yeah! Plus, I don’t wanna get yelled at for being late, so it’s best to be early.” Ava looked back at her and smiled. “Now, we should really get going. C’mon!” Hibiki nodded in response and went out of the classroom with mew and they both made their way to the school idol club.

This feeling didn’t last long, though.

A few minutes later, as they were walking to the club, Hibiki’s feeling of uneasiness, worry, and nervousness resurfaced. She ended up frowning slightly and took a deep sigh. Mew heard her sigh and immediately glanced over at her “Hibiki? You okay? Halo asked. She shook her head. “N-No..” she said quietly. “I’ve haven’t came up w-with lyrics for that song.. A-And we have a p-performance coming up.!” After she said that, Hibiki started dumping all her feelings out like a pipe overflowing with water. She could feel her tears overflowing in her eyes as well. “I-If I don’t have the lyrics, th-th-then everyone will be mad at me a-a-and—“ As the tears started rolling down her face, she looked down at her shoes. “…I’ll mess e-everything up..” she said quietly as her voice cracked from all the emotions she was feeling.

Ava stood there for a moment before quickly taking action. “H-Hey, calm down.!” She said panicky. Mew didn’t really know what to do but she wanted to try and comfort her friend. So, mew stopped walking and put halos hand on Hibiki’s cheek. “Hibiki.. You’re being a little too hard on yourself, don’t you think?” Hibiki looked back up at Ava, with their eyes meeting again. “You won’t mess anything up, I think. Plus, it’s normal to be in a slump. Mew added on. “Hell, I’ve been in slumps all the time!” Ava attempted to wiped the tears off of Hibiki’s face with her fingers. “My point is, I don’t think the others won’t be mad if you don’t have the lyrics figured out. So, don’t be too hard on yourself.”

Hearing all that made Hibiki feel relieved and she formed a weak smile on her face. “A-Ava..” she sniffed. “Oh, and also,” Ava added on. “You have us! I’m not as good with writing lyrics, but we’re all supposed to support each other as idols, right? That’s why I’ll try my best to help you.”

“R-Really..?” Hibiki asked. “You don’t mind?” Mew nodded. “I really don’t. I hate seeing you all frustrated.” Mew smiled at her and put her hand on her shoulder. Hibiki wiped away her tears with her sleeve and smiled back. “T-Thank you, Ava.. I-I guess you learned a-a lot since joining, ehehe..” she giggled, causing Ava to blush a little.

“W-Well, I’ve come to like it. But only a bit. Because I get to make the dances..” Mew looked to the side as she said that. “Y-You really love being a s-school idol..” she remarked, smiling. “B-But really.. Thank you for b-being a school i-idol with me..” Hibiki said. “Y-You really enjoy yourself w-whenever you’re dancing, and I-I love your energy.!” Ava yelped in surprise as halos face got even more red. “R-Really?” She gave a little sheepish grim. “Thanks.. But, you’re a pretty good idol too! You always look super cute on stage.” Mew responded. “I usually don’t do this sort of school idol-thing, but.. With you, It’s always a blast whenever we’re performing or practicing.” Hibiki let out a little gasp of surprise and also blushed a little.

“A-Ava..” she muttered in a flustered tone. “Y-You really do shine a lot..”

“We both shine. Even if you don’t think you do, you’re pretty amazing too.” Ava grabbed both of Hibiki’s hands and chuckled. “We should really get going now.. Don’t wanna be late.”

“Y-Yeah! Let’s go.. T-Together.!” Hibiki said in a somewhat enthusiastic tone. Ava let go of both her hands and walked along side her again. Hibiki slowly held mews hand. Ava noticed this of course, and smiled at her, blushing a tiny bit. She fully held Hibiki’s hand causing her to smile a whole lot, also slightly blushing.

But the two of them didn’t mind, they both continued walking to the school idol club together, happily.

#oc bullshit #writting #writting prompt #meohara #maru’s writting

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perfectpaperbluebirds · 3 years ago

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@sicktember Prompt # 27: Blankets

Title: Sick Day Spells

Fandom: N/A

Based on an ask box prompt. The prompt: “It’s all well and good until the cleric gets really sick.”

What does a party of adventures do when their cleric is forced to take a sick day after a battle? Featuring a Halfling Rogue, a Dwarf Fighter, an Elf Sorcerer, and a Human Cleric.

(Author’s note: Holy crap this was fun to write, and I’m thrilled with how it came out! I can’t believe it took me so long to write a D & D-based story. This is the first time I can say with confidence that you will almost certainly see these OCs again. I loved them way too much to let them go. And there's three more people here for me to whump in all ways magical and physical. So keep your eyes peeled for them again soon!)

They say pride comes before the fall, but most people like to think that applies to everyone except them. Still, perhaps the adventuring party should have kept their pride in check, or else watched more vigilantly for the possibility of falling.

The party of four were riding out of the village they had simultaneously saved and partially destroyed. True, they had fought off a school of necromancers that were terrorizing the local area and destroyed the necromancers' constructs, but the fireball they had used to wipe out the zombies had also wiped out the entire market and half of the residential district. Still, collateral damage was to be expected, and the slightly-singed foursome were in high spirits as they left the smoking town in their wake.

Their calamity came from a very unexpected source, and it started with a sneeze. The party always traveled in pairs of two, with the fighter and the sorcerer in front and the cleric and the rogue in the back. This meant that Filius and Kandry were generally surrounded by a cloud of dust while on the road, but they didn't usually mind, both being the hearty sort.

Today though, the dust began to make Filius sneeze even before they'd left the town. After two sets of three sneezes nearly back to back, Lorellyn turned, looking at him with concern.

"Are you all right, Fil? Your cold is still bothering you, isn't it?"

"I suppose. Honestly I'm so tired I barely notice it right now. I just want to get back to camp and sleep for a day or two," said the cleric, congested and hoarse, trying not to cough.

"Well yeh certainly earned it. It seemed yeh were everywhere at once ou’ there, throwin' out healin' spells left an' right, an' destroyin' th' zombies in droves, plus flingin' necromancers here an' there with tha' mace o' yourn," Gundor said.

"He's right. We couldn't have done this without you," Lorellyn said earnestly. "You're the hero of the day."

Filius smiled tiredly, but before he could reply, a sickly green bolt of energy hit him in the back, making him spasm. He froze, then slowly his eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped forward on his horse.

The other three jumped into action immediately. Kandry leapt off of her mount and onto the back of Filius’ with flawless acrobatics, somehow managing to prevent him from falling off of his horse and take control of the steed immediately, though she couldn't reach the stirrups.

Lorellyn whipped around, immediately shooting a firebolt from her palm, aimed at the bush from which the offensive spell had come. The dry bush caught fire immediately, causing the pair of tiny goblin mages hiding inside it to run out shrieking, heading toward the smoking village. Gundor was already off of his mount and chasing them down with rage in his eyes, ending them with his axe before they knew what hit them.

Gundor and Lorellyn were at Kandry's side as soon as the threat was eliminated. The halfling was anxiously checking Filius over for visible injuries.

"He's burning up!" she cried. "What did they hit him with?"

"It was a wimpy Ray of Sickness. I saw it out of the corner of my eye," Lorellyn said, taking over assessing the cleric. "Those mages were barely second level. I'm surprised they were able to hit him at all. There's no way this is just from that. There's something else."

"Well can't you figure it out?" Kandry snapped.

"I'm trying! But divination is Filius' specialty, not mine!" Lorellyn snapped back.

"Let's jus’ get ‘im back ta camp. We need ta get off th' road. We're too exposed, an' distracted ta boot," Gundor said, looking around worriedly. "Yeh can look ‘im over there just as well as here."

The other two quickly agreed. They hastened back to their base, with Filius slumped in the saddle in front of Lorellyn, and Gundor leading Filius' horse behind his own.

The ride was somber, the high spirits from their successful battle all but forgotten. Filius had a raging fever and was dead asleep, unable to be woken, but seemed to be in the throes of terrible nightmares, for he writhed and cried out the whole time they were moving. Whenever he would yell, it would send him into an awful coughing fit that left him panting and sweating. Lorellyn tried her best to soothe him, but she was clearly distressed, especially when it seemed to have no effect, and she had tears in her eyes most of the trip.

Arriving at their camp, they made a makeshift stretcher for him from a blanket, gently carrying the tall man to his tent and laying him down on his mat. They lingered at his side, unsure how to proceed.

"Why don't you do a healing spell on him or something?" Kandry snapped at the sorcerer. "There's got to be something we can do!"

"I don't have any spells left after that battle," Lorellyn hissed. "I need to rest my magic! And anyway, sorcerers can't do healing spells. Our magic is too chaotic. Bad things would happen if I tried. Do either of you have any healing potions?”

"I never waste time with that. They're too heavy to bother with. You all always carry them... Or Filius takes care of it," Kandry mumbled.

"I gave mine ta th’ villagers tha' got hurt in th' blast," Gundor said sheepishly. "Filius planned ta brew some more, so I wagered I wouldn't need 'em."

"Some adventurers we are," Kandry groaned. "We can't even take care of our cleric."

Lorellyn wrapped Kandry in a hug, which the halfling immediately tried to wriggle out of, but the elf was stronger.

"We'll figure something out. It will be fine," Lorellyn said bravely.

At that moment, the party heard a commotion on the highway, with many people screaming and yelling loud enough to be heard at the camp, though they were well away from the road. The three healthy members of the party gave each other worried looks. Lorellyn attuned her hearing to better assess the situation while Kandry and Gundor waited breathlessly.

"It's a green dragon," Lorellyn gasped after a moment. "Something angered it and now it's flying around, attacking randomly. It's already killed dozens of people."

"It's all well and good until the cleric gets really sick," Kandry groaned, covering her face.

They didn't have time to make any sort of plan, for immediately they heard the sound of running footsteps approaching their camp. A young man with wild-looking eyes dashed into their midst.

“Adventurers!” he gasped. “Have you heard? There’s a dragon terrorizing us! We need your aid to defeat it!”

Gundor stepped forward. “We hadn’t heard o’ this trouble. O’ course we’ll do what’s necessary in this time o’ danger.”

“So you’ll come? We must go right away!”

“Give us time ta make our necessary preparations. Leave us fer now.”

The lad nodded, hurrying away again.

Gundor, Lorellyn, and Kandry shared a look. Without a word, they quickly began to break down their camp, hastily packing their things and snuffing out the fire under cover of Lorellyn’s disillusionment cantrips, and taking full advantage of Kandry’s stealth. In minutes they had packed their belongings on their horses and were heading in the opposite direction of the main road, deeper into the forest. Through it all, Filius remained unconscious, mumbling and sweating and weak with fever.

After another hour or two’s ride, having hidden themselves deep in the forest, Kandry found a secure cave in which they could hide out. The party was in no shape to fight a dragon right now. Here, they wouldn’t be in danger, or be run out of town for not assisting with the dragon. Gundor secured the perimeter while Lorellyn attended to the sick cleric, laying him out gently on his bedroll once more and bathing his sweat-slicked face with a wet rag while Kandry saw to the rest of the camp preparations. The cool water slowly brought Filius to consciousness, with much coughing and trembling. However, wakefulness did not bring awareness with it. He looked around dully, his eyes heavy-lidded and fever-bright, but seemed to take in little of what he saw. He closed his eyes again wearily without acknowledging his companions hovering over him worriedly. Shivers wracked his body.

“ ‘m so cold,” he coughed. “Thirsty….”

Kandry rushed to get him a mug of water while Lorellyn snatched the blankets off of each of the other bedrolls and brought them over, covering him in all of them. They seemed to have no effect though, and he continued to shiver violently. Gundor built up the fire frantically, but it took a while to catch, and the smoke only made the sick human cough more. After drinking two mugs of water, Filius fell back asleep, which was somehow both a relief and a worry to his friends. His fever never changed, neither going lower nor higher.

“I’ll run ta th’ village ta get ‘im some kind o’ potion,” Gundor murmured over supper. “I can’t watch ‘im suffer like this.”

“And risk being seen, or worse attacked by a dragon?” Kandry scoffed. “After all the trouble we went to to find this place and stay hidden? Please don’t.”

“She’s right,” Lorellyn said. “That’s at least two hours' ride, and one of us will be left alone and vulnerable. At least wait until morning, when our health and spells are back up. If he’s the same or worse, then go. We’ll see how he does through the night.”

Once night fell, with nothing else to do, the party tried to sleep, rotating 6 hour shifts keeping watch, as usual. However, even when not on guard duty, the party members found they couldn’t settle, and kept lifting their heads to shoot worried glances at their cleric, or make sure he hadn’t worsened. Gundor had had the first watch, and when it came time for him to rest, he settled on his bedroll, but then tossed and turned for a long time. He was usually snoring like a bear within moments of shutting his eyes, so this had the ladies on high alert. Finally, the dwarf got up with a huff, picked up his bedroll and carried it over to Filius’ side, dropping it there. When he lay back down, he was close enough that his shoulder touched the cleric’s. The dwarf then pulled a corner of one of the blankets over himself and rolled to his side, pressing up against the human, and immediately falling asleep with a weary snore.

Lorellyn had the second watch, and she kept shooting tender, but envious looks at the sleeping men. Filius never woke, but he seemed to sleep more peacefully after Gundor had joined him. As soon as her watch was finished, she followed the dwarf’s lead, pushing her bedroll up against the other side of the sick human, sliding under the blankets, and resuming her meditation.

Kandry was not so easily swayed, and tried to ignore the thoughtless sharing of germs happening behind her as she took her turn at the watch. However, when no one was looking, she surreptitiously slid her bedroll around to the other side of the fire, placing her closer to her companions.

Had Gundor and Lorellyn been aware of their surroundings, they would have noticed that in the wee hours of the morning Filius began to sweat profusely. He had hardly moved after the other two had settled in with him to share their body heat, but he began to mutter and toss a bit once more. Finally, just as dawn was creeping over the horizon, he woke with a gasp, sitting bolt upright with a hacking cough. Lorellyn and Gundor were instantly awakened as well, and Kandry was at their side in an instant. Filius tried to catch his breath, pushing his sweaty hair out of his eyes.

“Where ‘m I?” he croaked. “What happened?”

Lorellyn leaned over to press the back of her hand to his forehead, then his neck. “We’re safely hidden in the forest. Are you alright? How are you feeling?”

“Awful,” Filius groaned. “Sick. How long have I been asleep?” He yawned hugely.

“Almost a day,” Kandry said, pressing a mug of water into his hands. “You scared us half to death. You got hit with a Ray of Sickness and you just… passed out.”

“I did?” he said worriedly, looking confused. “I don’t remember that….”

“Yeah. Did you have some poison in your system too or something? I’ve never seen Ray of Sickness do that,” Kandry said accusingly.

“Not that I know of. Might have to do with me already being sick when it hit me. Just exacerbated everything, made it worse temporarily.” He coughed roughly into his shoulder, wincing, then downed the mug of water.

“Well your fever is much better,” Lorellyn said happily. “Let’s hope you’re on the mend now!”

“I’d be on the mend faster if I got some whiskey,” Filius sniffled, looking meaningfully at Gundor. The sleepy dwarf readily got up and shuffled to his pack. Finding what he was looking for, he returned with an amber-colored bottle and handed it to the cleric, who took several unceremonious gulps.

“Good ta have yeh back, mate,” Gundor rumbled happily, reclaiming the bottle and taking several swigs of his own.

“What are you all doing over here anyway?” Filius said after a moment, yawning again. “This cave is plenty big enough for all of us.”

“You were freezing, so we shared our blankets with you,” Lorellyn said.

“Really? You mean you slept here all night?”

“Tha’ we did. ‘Twas a mighty fine night’s rest, too,” Gundor said. “Matter o’ fact, I could use some more shuteye if it’s all th’ same ta you lot.” With that, he lay back down right where he was, pressing up against Filius once more and closing his eyes. The cleric looked surprised, though not unhappy with this development.

“Some more rest would be nice. Filius, are you able to put up some protection spells so we can all relax for another day? I hate to ask so much of you--” Lorellyn began.

“No, it’s fine,” he said, coughing chestily. “I can manage.” He grasped his talisman of Njord and closed his eyes, his brow furrowing. After a moment, an opaque barrier appeared over the cave’s entryway. No creature, magical or otherwise, would be able to pass through. Looking exhausted now, he lay back down alongside Gundor and shut his eyes, a tiny smile appearing on his face as the dwarf shifted cozily against him and Lorellyn too pressed closer.

Lorellyn was also grinning. “Come join us, Kandry.”

The halfling rolled her eyes. “I don’t cuddle.”

“I don’t either, but here we are,” Filius mumbled, almost asleep. “Just call it team bonding.”

Kandry almost declined again… but it really did look very cozy to be surrounded by blankets and pillows and teammates. With a little sigh, she shuffled over and slotted herself in, with Filius’ long legs on one side of her, and Lorellyn’s on the other.

They spent the rest of the day just like that, sleeping and eating and talking, content to take a day to simply enjoy each other’s company as they let their cleric take a sick day.

#sicktember2021 #everyone is hotter with a fever #prompt 27 #sickfic

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babeyvenus · 3 years ago

Text

The Wolf Among Us

Bigby x OC

Summary: Sonya Blaze, A.K.A. Hell Rider, is a half fable, half mundy girl who comes to Fabletown to learn more about her side of the folktales. She works alongside Sheriff Bigby Wolf as his newest partner and together they strive to find out who's behind the unexpected murders in Fabletown.

TW: Mentions of death, gore/blood, alcohol, smoking, drugs, sex implications, suicide, guns and ofc language.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Chapter 20: Break in

The Woodlands

Sonya made it back to the Woodlands and parked in her usual spot in the back alley before walking back around to the entrance. “Hey, Grimble.”, she greets, not worrying about the man’s response as he sleeps.

She walks over to the elevator, waiting for the old box to come down. ‘ Maybe being on leave isn’t too bad …’, she thought as she looked at the bag in her hand with the big bold word of BEST BUY . She grinned as she stepped in the elevator and pressed the button to her floor.

When she reaches her floor, she walks down her hall and notices her door in a weird position. Almost like it was open…

She stopped once she got a bit closer to see that it was indeed open. She snapped her fingers to herself, “Nope.” She turned around and headed toward Bigby’s apartment.

She knocked on his door, looking around the empty hallway. She could her clops coming to the door and the door opened to reveal Colin. “Hey, toots. What’s going on?”

She looks around and looks at the pig. “Hey, Colin. Is Bigby here?” He shakes his head. “He’s probably at his office, if not then he’s out beating up other fables.” She doesn’t respond, keeping her eyes on the empty hallway. “What's up?", he asked.

"Someone was in my apartment while I was gone...", she says. Colin steps aside and lets her in. "You could call his office to see if he's there.", he says, closing the door and managing to lock it.

She scrambled to the phone and dialed his office number. 'Please, pick up. Please, pick up. Please, pick-'

"Hello?", his gruff, mumbled voice answers. She assumed he was smoking again as she lets out a shaky breath of relief. She slid down to the floor by the phone.

"Hello?", he calls again. She clears her throat a bit. "Hey. Uh, are you busy?"

He's silent for a moment before answering, "You're back already? I'm not busy right now– what's wrong?"

"Can you come here? I had to go to your apartment. We need to talk,” she says. She could hear him bustling around, most likely getting ready to come over. "Yeah, I'm on my way."

She nods, even though he couldn't see it and hangs up, waiting for his arrival.

Moments later, she could hear him unlocking the door and he walked in. He looks around to see her give him a smile but it didn't meet her eyes. "Did you have someone in your apartment?"

She stood up. "That's what I called you for. I didn't even get to go inside yet." He led her to her apartment, seeing the old door opened for everyone who walked down the hall to see. He growled, keeping her behind him as he walked up to the apartment.

He peeked from around the corner, his nose twitching as he took in the smells. He took note of her scent, the wood of the old door, a small candle on the lamp table she had and a very distinct scent. It was familiar but he couldn't put his finger on it. Nor did he like it.

He frowned as he walked in, taking silent steps. Sonya looked around before stepping in. "Who do you think was in here…?", she whispered enough for him to hear.

He gave her an unsure face, and looked around the dark apartment. She didn't have much so why would anyone break into her place?

Sonya looked in her kitchen, seeing the window in the kitchen open. She closed it and locked it, sighing. Bigby closed the other window. He looked into her empty bedroom and bathroom, frowning at the sight of no one.

He walked up to her. "From now on, you go through the front entrance. No shortcuts, nothing. Not until we figure out what's going on. Are we clear?"

She nodded. He crossed his arms, giving her his signature glare. "I mean it, Sonya.", he says as if he were lecturing a child. She looked up at him with a frown. "I got it.", she says.

Unsatisfied, he leaves it alone and brings her go the Business Office. He frowns at the sight of Bluebeard discussing with Snow and locking eyes with him. "And the dog himself appears.", he says.

Sonya walked up to Bufkin, giving him a smile. "How are you today?", he asks. She rubs behind her neck. "Pretty off today, Bufkin. What about you?" He gives her a worried, soft smile. "I'm as well as can be."

Snow walks up to Sonya, making her frown. "I thought you were supposed to be on leave.", she says, placing her hands on her hips. Sonya crossed her arms. "I am. I'm going through something right now and I definitely don't need you to start anything with me."

"Sonya, I could care less. We don't need you right now. There's nothing happening. There's no case, the Crooked Man is gone. You two handled that very well .", she sneers.

Sonya rubs at her temples, feeling an oncoming headache. Bufkin took that as his cue to leave. "I don't need this right now.", Sonya sighs.

"Whether or not you want me here, I still have a job . Which means it's my only way to even pay for my apartment. Unless you feel like paying the rent yourself, I'd suggest you turn your business elsewhere.", Sonya says, walking toward the mirror as Bigby and Bluebeard nitpick.

"Hey, Mirror.", she calls. The green face appears. "Hello, Miss Sonya."

She rubbed her arm. "You wouldn't happen to know who showed up at my apartment a few minutes ago...would you?"

"Alas, Miss Sonya. For I cannot tell the past.", the mirror replied. She looked down dejectedly. "Sorry about that. I won't need anything else. Thank you." The mirror nods with a smile before showing her reflection.

She sighed. "Dammit. Who would’ve wanted to go to my apartment? I don't have anything like Beauty and Beast..."

Snow looks up from her desk. "Do you need anything else or are you headed out?"

Sonya's jaw clenched. "I don't think I need any of your help. I haven't needed your help since I got here." Snow glares. "If you don't need any then you can go. We sure don't need yours."

Sonya scoffed. "What the fuck is your problem, Snow?" Snow crosses her arms. "That's Ms. White to you. My problem is that you're trouble."

Sonya's eyebrows rise. "I'm trouble?"

"You're often reckless and you add fuel to Bigby's fire. Which he already doesn't need. You don't give him restraint, you egg him on and just watch from the sidelines.", Snow says.

"We went over this already. Bigby is not a pet. He doesn't need to be kept on a leash 24 fucking hours of the day.", Sonya argues. "And did we or did we not get stuff done? Was anyone killed on our behalf?"

"No, but that's not the point.", Snow says. Sonya places her palms on her temples for a moment. "How is that not the point? There was no bloodshed and even if there was, it sure as hell wasn't coming from the opposing side. They were out for blood and over the stupidest shit. The Crooked Man tried to kill us multiple times, for fuck's sake!"

Sonya walks up to the desk, placing her hands on it. "We got the job done. We may have hit a few bumps on the road but in the end, we got justice. So this,"

Sonya gestures to Snow's glare. "Know-it-all, high and mighty, snobby, by the books shit you got going on isn't gonna cut it with me. And it sure as hell ain't gonna cut it with our next problems. Especially if our next problems commit another murder that we have to solve once again."

Sonya stands up straight, crossing her arms. "You've got no reason to act the way you're doing right now. If anything, you're acting like a child . You're "trying" to be mature and "professional", but it's not working. You were better before you thought it was okay to put me on leave over some bullshit.", she says, making Snow's hardened expression falter.

"So if you're writing a book and you must know, I'm here because someone thought it was a good fucking idea to B&E in my place while I was " on leave ".", she says, making Snow’s eyes widen.

She pauses, noticing the silence coming from the room. She turns to Bigby and Bluebeard, meeting their confused eyes.

Bluebeard smiles and adjusts his clothes. "Well, I think it's about time I leave. I take you all have something wondrous to talk about.", he says, walking to the door.

"Hold on, Bluebeard.", Bigby calls. Bluebeard pauses. "You didn't see anyone suspicious enter the Woodlands, did you?"

Bluebeard looks at him over his broad shoulder. "No, not am I worried about that because it's not my job. That should be your job as well as Grimble. Ask him.", he says before leaving.

Bigby shakes his head as he looks at the two women. “Yeah, someone broke in today. I’ll ask Grimble and I’ll see what to do afterwards. I don’t know what’s going on with you two and this hostility thing you guys got going on but it needs to be handled. As for you,” He points at Sonya.

“You need to be on your guard. C’mon.” he says, walking toward the office door. Sonya sighs before following and exiting before him.

They walk to the elevator; Sonya storms in irritation and nearly leaves Bigby in her dust. Once they enter the elevator, Bigby glances at Sonya. She leaned on a wall of the elevator, her eyes closed as her chest rose and fell heavily, as if she were trying to calm down.

He frowned softly, disliking the sight behind him. He didn't like being around someone when they were riled up. It didn't help his own anger and irritation but seeing her so worked up, it made him feel….helpless.

"So...", he speaks up, looking away. Her eyes opened. "You wanna explain what that was about?", he asks.

She frowned, rolling her eyes. "Girl talk." He snorts. "You guys fight. That's girl talk?"

Sonya bit back a sigh. "Just a little powwow. Frankly, I think it's something she's been needing to hear for a while.", she says. Bigby shakes his head. "She means well. She's a disciplinarian but she's doing her best."

Sonya glances at him, her lips pressed in a slight pout. 'Doesn't matter what anyone says… Snow's still an angel in his eyes…'

She frowned in frustration before the elevator doors opened to the lobby. They walk up to Grimble, frowning at the man's snores.

Bigby knocks on the front desk. "Hey. Grimble." Sonya frowned at him in disbelief. "No, "hey, sorry to wake you up"?", she asks, making Bigby shrug.

The sleeping man looks up, rubbing his eyes. "He'd be lying if he apologized. What's the matter?"

"Have you seen anyone suspicious walk through here?", Sonya asks. Grimble frowns and shakes his head. "No, not that I don't think."

"It's even weirder because even if he is asleep, he knows anyone and everyone that comes through here.", Bigby tells her.

"I literally have nothing that's valuable. Unless they're looking for my phone, that might be another story.", she says. She frowns sadly. "If it's not one thing, it's another…"

Bigby frowns, placing a hand on her back. "Let's go take a breather."

She looked up at him. "But I just went out." He shrugged. "So?"

She sighs. "Fine.", she says, walking out of the Woodlands with him.

However, across the street, far into a dark alley, someone watches the sheriff and deputy leave the building.

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kpop-s-akura · 3 years ago

Text

Back to You | Chapter One

Pairing: Lee Suho x OC

Genre: fluff, angst, romance, comedy

Warning(s): strong language, mentions of violence (nothing too bad since I suck at writing), smoking, slight sexual harassment

Word Count: 6.6k

(Gif is not mine; credits to rightful owner)

"This is stupid and unnecessary."

"You're stupid and unnecessary!"

"Real mature, Junie."

"You just said that meeting my friends is 'stupid and unnecessary', what did you expect?"

Chaewon rolled her eyes, very well knowing that the boy had a point, but still unable shake to her nerves.

Meeting new people has never really been in the girl's forte; no matter how confident she seemed in a crowd, "properly" meeting new people turned her into an entire new shade of shy and introverted.

And the fact that these specific people were important to one of the most important people in her life, didn't make her or her anxiety fare any better.

Seojun noticed and stopped to turn to her.

"Don't be so nervous. These guys are really nice, you'll be fine."

Chaewon nodded, still unsure, but followed his lead up the staircase that led to Suho's house, one Seojun's friends she was meeting.

Seojun spoke in a soft and comforting voice, "I really think you'll like them, Chaewon-ah."

She smiled.

❀❀❀

"You're an idiot!"

"Shut up! You're the idiot!"

"I'm not the one who messed with Yongpa High thugs and got them to chase us right now!"

It would be an understatement to say that Han Chaewon was pissed when her post-noraebong bliss with her brother was very quickly squashed afterwards when the two siblings were approached by delinquents from Yongpa High.

Though to be fair, the siblings themselves were both kind of delinquents themselves; but the girl's anger was more directed towards her twin brother, Han Seojun, rather than their chasers for her current mood.

"Well-!"

"Just shut up and get on the damn bike!" Chaewon ordered as she did so herself as well as securing her helmet.

"Yah! I'm older than you, don't tell me what to do." But despite the elder's words, he put on his helmet and sped off alongside his sister on their motorcycles.

With Lee Seongyong right on their tail.

Chaewon led her and her brother through various roads and alleyways, knowing this part of town like the back of her hand; Seojun riding just a couple feet behind her, trusting that the younger would get them out of the mess he created for them. She always did.

It seemed like an endless cycle between the two: Chaewon getting Seojun out of trouble while causing chaos herself and leaving him to clean it up and vice versa.

They were quite the chaotic neutral duo, if you would.

And the majority of the time for them, it was fun. Even the slight life-risking aspect of it; although "life-risking" could be a bit of an exaggeration.

It was fun as long as you weren't alone, and Chaewon always managed to snag a sibling or friend (not that she had many of either) and rope them into being her partner in crime.

But as much as she enjoyed the trouble-maker lifestyle, she thinks of it's disgraces. She thinks of Seyeon.

Seyeon and how much he disapproved of her trouble-making since she was much more frequent in doing so compared to her twin counterpart.

Even when he would (un)willingly take part in his friend's mischievous shenanigans, it was something he loved about her. Something he loved about all of them.

Chaewon was aware of this, but what would he think of the current me? She would constantly ask herself questions like these; though the "he" could be any of the three boys that were constantly on her mind.

The thing is, she already knew the answer. It saddened her to think of it, but what else could she do?

"Chaewon!"

She briefly looked back at her brother, wondering what that was about, before realising what he was warning: a girl was straight ahead, and she was about to hit her.

The unknown girl braced for impact while the twins jerkily swerved to each side of the obstacle.

Avoiding her, but not avoiding falling on the ground along with their bikes.

"Shit..." They cursed simultaneously.

The girl recovered from her shock and went to go apologise to them.

"Excuse me, are you two okay? What should I do?" She muttered the last part to herself. "Are either of you hurt?" Seojun irately pulled off his helmet, shaking his hair out while breathing heavily and glared at the woman who stood behind him.

Hearing a moan of pain from Chaewon, still lying on the ground, he rushed over to her and pulled off her helmet as well.

"Chae-ah, are you okay?" Seojun searched for any injuries, spotting g several messy scratches and gashes on her legs.

"I'm fine." The girl grumbled. Seojun lightly brushed over the bleeding wounds, causing her to wince and smack his hand away.

"Sorry..." He said half-heartedly. Seojun could never handle seeing someone he loved in any sort of pain or hurt in any way.

Still somewhat blinding with anger, Seojun carefully helped his twin up before angrily walking towards the worried and now scared Im Jugyeong.

"Yah!" But before the temperamental boy could chew her out, he spotted the group of motorcycles after them and quickly dropped his and Chaewon's helmets to the ground.

He took his sister's hand as they ran away, not realising that they had left Chaewon's fallen sword hair sticks on the ground.

She was struggling to keep up with him, but her adrenaline was going full force and it soon felt like there was never an injury in the first place.

She wouldn't let him carry her, knowing it would just slow them down even more.

They got to a certain point where they decided to split up, Seojun going left and Chaewon going left. A bit of a last ditch effort.

But as some of Seongyong's boys gained on her, Chaewon realized she couldn't run from them forever with her injured legs. So she stopped, putting her hands up and feigning surrender.

The boys caught up with her and grabbed at her shoulders, only for Chaewon to grab one of their wrists and flip them over her shoulder.

She turned to the other guy and back kicked his chest, causing him to take a tumble backwards and onto the ground. Chaewon started walking over to finish him off, not noticing that the first guy was up again.

He kicked her square in the back, causing her to fall onto her injured knees with a pained yelp.

She squeaked slightly when the second boy stepped on her back to push her fully onto the floor, putting more and more pressure every second.

"Not so tough now huh, princess?" One of them taunted before they both grabbed her arms and did their best to keep her under control. The boys brought her to the rest of the group where Lee Seongyong had Seojun cornered.

"Look what we found, boss."

Seojun's eyes went wide at his sister's slightly beat state as Seongyong turned to his underlings and smugly smirked at the captive girl.

"Well, well, well. I thought it was weird when the Han Twins weren't together."

"She put up a bit of a fight."

"I'd expect nothing less." The head gangster (if you could even call him that) chuckled to himself and lifted Chaewon's chin up with his index and middle finger. Seojun growled lowly as he started towards the two but was almost immediately stopped by two boys "guarding" him.

"Such a pretty thing," the slimy boy said, trailing a finger to a loose strand of hair, "perhaps you can be accepted as payment." He brushed it out of the way, only for Chaewon to savagely bite at his finger, Seongyong only just pulling away in time. Seojun chuckled at his reacted while shaking his head.

"You're a delusional bastard to think for even a second that Seojun would agree and that I would allow that." Chaewon narrowed her eyes and glared at the still slightly shaken boy. But nonetheless he went back to being smug.

He walked back over to the male twin while cracking his knuckled. "Well then I guess I'll have to find another way to get even with your brother." Chaewon gasped as Seongyong punched Seojun in the stomach, causing him to fold over.

"Oppa!" She rarely used the term "hyung" or "oppa", but when she did, it was usually blurted out on accident or during a time of distress.

"Hey, when I think about how, because of you," She screamed again when Seongyong kneed him in his stomach, bringing him to his knees. She could feel the pain of her twin almost vividly, she wanted wanted to throw up at it. "I have no money left, I just..."

He brought the boy back up by his jacket.

"Hey. You didn't come out that day intentionally to backstab us, right?" All Seojun did was scoff with a mocking smile. "Did you think we wouldn't do anything if you ignored and avoided us?" Seongyong went in to land another punch, but only ended up hitting air as his target shifted slightly over.

"Don't hit the face." Chaewon mimicked her brother's reaction from earlier in chuckling while shaking her head.

The teenage bullies just started to scoff in disbelief at the boy's brazenness.

"Yes, you avoided it. Okay, you're dead today." Just as Seongyong placed his hand on Seojun's shoulder with his other fist poised for another punch, the sound of a siren alerted the group: causing Chaewon to stop her struggling.

"Hey, the cops are here."

"Let's go quickly!"

Chaewon shook off the boys that held her hostage before straightening out her clothes.

Lee Seongyong however was hesitant before finally letting go.

"We'll meet again, Han Seojun."

As soon as the boys ran off, Chaewon ran up to her brother and practically jumped into his arms with a hug to the best of her abilities. Seojun returned the affection, whispering sweet nothings into her hair and assuring that they were okay now.

"Are you okay? Does anything seriously hurt?" Seojun smiled at the girl's concern for him and just opted for kissing her forehead.

"I'll survive. Are you okay? Did they hurt you?" Chaewon smiled back and shook her head.

"I'll survive."

Im Jugyeong, who had turned on the siren, came out of her hiding place and stared in the direction of where the group of boys ran off.

She slowly backed up with Seojun's helmet in one arm and Chaewon's hair sticks in the other hand, gasping when she distractedly bumped into said boy's solid chest with said girl beside him. The two were staring down at the bewildered girl.

She turned around and became even more intimidated by the twins' height. Although Chaewon wasn't much taller than her, Jugyeong being 5'7 and the other girl standing at a strong 5'9, her stare was enough to make her quiver.

"What's with you?" Seojun said with a blank look on his face.

"Uh, about that... Oh, there!" She pointed at a space between the twins who did nothing but turn their heads slightly at her finger in synchronisation before rolling their eyes.

"What are you doing?" Chaewon said with the same bored look on her brother.

Jugyeong bit her lip, realising she was pretty much screwed before turning to run away, almost falling on her face.

Chaewon caught her by her backpack and brought her back up, causing the girl to slam into her surprisingly also firm figure. Jugyeong slowly turned to look at her.

Chaewon tilted her head. "What do you think you're looking at?"

There was a slight silence before Seojun spoke up, "Run."

The girl seemingly snapped back into reality, running away. "Oh, oh, bye!" She ran away screaming.

"Saebom High School?" The twins pondered in unison.

"What an odd girl..." Chaewon wondered as Seojun scoffed at the interaction. She brushed her hair out of her face and ruffled it when she realized something.

"My hair sticks..."

Seojun stopped as well.

"My helmet!" They looked at the fleeing figure of the girl realizing she possessed their personal items.

"Hey!" But she was pretty much long gone.

"Aish..." He cursed.

"Want me to go get them?" Chaewon offered, ready to go sprint for her and her brother's possessions. They were both of fairly high emotional importance.

"No, you're injured. No more running for you." She rolled her eyes, but conceded.

"Let's go home; Gowoon is probably worried about us." Chaewon patted Seojun's shoulder, he looked at his sister and nodded before they started on their way back to where they left their bikes, the girl relenting in letting her brother carry her via piggyback ride.

❀❀❀

"Gowoon-ah! We're home!" Chaewon called out into the mostly empty house.

"Hey! How was noraebong?" Gowoon was sitting at their kitchen table with her schoolwork spread out.

"Good! Until Seojun was an idiot..." Said idiot glared at her.

"When is he not an idiot?"

"Yah!"

Chaewon laughed and placed her bag on an empty space on the table when Gowoon noticed her wounds.

"What happened to you?!" Chaewon looked down, she nearly forgot about her messed up legs.

"Consequences of Seojun's idiocy and a little bit of my own." She vaguely said before taking a seat next to her younger sister.

"Need help with anything?"

"Nah, I'm good. But you should clean those up and get some sleep."

"Eh. I'll pass." Chaewon winked with a smirk before getting up.

She's gotten into enough trouble and enough accidents that she's gained quite some knowledge about injuries and how to treat them.

"Imma patch myself up a little and then go out."

After cleaning and bandaging her plethora of scratches on both of her legs, wiping off the little makeup she had on, and changing her clothes, she grabbed her bag and made for the door.

"See you later!" She called out to the other two, though Seojun was probably asleep; that being a major reason as to how Chaewon was allowed out of the house at that moment.

Seojun trusts Chaewon to handle herself, but with everything that had happened earlier that night, his big twin brother instincts were skyrocketing; they have him either keep his counterpart in the house after a certain time, or demand he go with her.

"Be safe and don't get into too much trouble!" Gowoon cautioned.

"I make no promises on either of those things!"

❀❀❀

Having decided to take a nice walk instead of rising her motorcycle, Chaewon entered Prince Comics; a place that she's called her safe haven since...

Anyways, the atmosphere of the comfy bookstore had helped her more than she though it would.

She'd spend most of her free days there whenever she just needed a break.

She rarely actually ever read the books, only when she was really bored but not tired enough to nap-- so she just took cat naps.

2-3 hour long cat naps.

The Ahjussi didn't mind though, he liked the company and personality of the young girl. He even put a bean bag, pillow, and blanket especially for Chaewon. He was always happy to see her enjoy it.

Like right now, Chaewon nestled her head further into the bean bag; setting aside the blanket and pillow since she had since changed into short sporty shorts, tucking her exposed and bandaged legs into the warmth of her oversized hoodie.

Lee Suho entered the area with couches and chairs that were bathed in the light yellow-orange light, taking in the place he hadn't come to in awhile.

As he was about to go search for his desired book, he noticed a small, curled-up figure to his right-- face covered by their hood.

He turned to the body, studying it for a second. His eyes roamed over the person before spotting sliver of a certain tattoo on their ankle-- a tattoo he knew all too well.

It was of a key.

"Chaewon...?" He whispered in disbelief. The girl opened her eyes at the all too familiar voice.

Though Chaewon has always been a heavy sleeper, there was one voice that always seemed to get her up and moving besides her brother's.

"Suho?" She said in a similar tone to his. He froze.

God how he missed his name coming from her lips, only she could have that effect on him.

They tried to keep their eyes from checking the other out (in a non-sexual way. sort of.), though their voices and facial expressions already gave away their shock.

It's been so long since she's seen Suho. She noticed how he seemed to get even more handsome, if that was even possible.

But there was something else. Something obvious. But at the same time, Chaewon couldn't quite put her finger on it. Or maybe she didn't want to.

Because this new thing about the boy before her wasn't something good.

She wasn't a fan. Then again, she wasn't a fan of Suho in general.

"What are you doing here?" He asked in a monotone voice while holding a cold façade, Chaewon decided to do the same.

Her expression hardened and became slightly agitated. "Well I was taking a nap before someone so rudely interrupted me." She began stretching out her limbs like a cat, getting prepared to get the hell out of there.

"This is a comic store to read, not a motel to sleep in." He scolded.

"What's it to you where I sleep?" She snipped getting up. The boy slightly blushed at the double-meaning of her words while the girl hadn't cared to notice.

Her new position had exposed her injuries, Suho's eyes notably widening at the sight before quickly going back to indifference.

"What happened to you?"

Chaewon scoffed.

"Since when do you care about me or my wellbeing?"

"Well it's kind of hard to miss all of that." He gestured to her legs. "It doesn't mean I care about you."

Ouch.

The girl just scoffed again and rolled her eyes for what seemed to be the billionth time that night before going to leave.

She didn't need this, not after the day she had.

But she was suddenly pulled back by her hood and stood in front of a puzzled Suho once again.

"The hell?!" She brushed his hand off her hoodie. There was a jolt of electricity when their skin met, though neither addressed it and settled for just staring (glaring) at each other.

This went on for another minute or two when the Ahjussi came back from his bathroom break and went to see if Suho had gotten his book or not.

"Yah, Lee Suho. Did you get the-" He stopped short, noticing the position of the two and their tension.

"Am I interrupting something?" Suho and Chaewon looked at the owner, stepping apart after noticing how close they had gotten. Chaewon cleared her throat before bowing to the Ahjussi, thanking him for letting her stay as always, and then scurrying out of the store.

"Is Chaewon-ie okay?" Suho couldn't bring himself to answer.

He just stood there as he replayed their interaction in his head; wondering what the hell just happened.

❀❀❀

"Motorcycles! Motorcycles!" The friend group turned around to see two motorcycles heading right towards them, jumping away just in time.

The twins continued to clear a path for themselves, parking in the designated area for bikes.

The bustling students continued to stare and chatter amongst themselves in awe and shock.

Chaewon and Seojun took off their helmets, shaking their hair out while doing so.

She tugged and tightened her high ponytail as he brushed his fingers through his hair a couple of times.

When they got off their bikes, Jugyeong froze, recognising the two siblings from the other night.

"They're..." The memories replayed in her head as if they were on tape. "They're from out school?" The girl couldn't believe the unbelievable coincidence.

"The Han Twins are back," Sua remarked.

"Why are they here?" Sujin rhetorically asked, Taehoon echoing her. The group watched as Seojun and Chaewon started to walk to the school's entrance; the elder's arm around the younger's neck.

"The Han Twins?"

"Like how there are the Bermuda Triangle in the Atlantic and black holes in the universe," Sua began, "there are three charming students at our school, whom if you fall for once, you can never exit and get out: The chic, cold beauty God Lee Suho; the rough, wild horse God Seojun; and the dangerous, seductive Goddess Chaewon. Just like deciding between three of your favourite foods is so mind blowingly hard, they're the three ethereal beings at Saebom High School. They're the three top ones!"

Jugyeong's eyes comically widened upon hearing Chaewon's description.

Dangerous? She wanted to facepalm herself for already making an enemy out of a girl who was known to be not-so-friendly.

Meanwhile, the Han duo and Lee Suho had finally come to a stand-still at the front of the building, the two boys looking at each other intensely.

Although Chaewon was able to keep her poker face upon seeing Suho, she kept looking everywhere but him.

She didn't know if the feeling she was getting in her stomach from seeing him again were butterflies or knives.

"Forget the top three nonsense, I hate them. Though I can't really say too much for Chaewon since she can be more enigmatic than Lee Suho or her brother at times. And yet they're still the heartthrobs of Saebom boys and girls alike."

Despite the tension between the three being completely visible to anybody and everybody, the students kept chattering away, loving how this was going.

"The Han Twins returned!"

"They'll get into a fight again."

"Oo, it's already so loud!"

"I love it!"

But as Jugyeong and the group started getting nearer towards the three, she could see how they didn't really seem like friends.

"What's with them? They don't get along?" She asked, turning her head towards Sua.

"They used to be best friends, but they somehow fell apart. When they meet, the atmosphere gets so cold. It's especially weird since everybody thought that Suho and Chaewon were together during that time since they acted much closer than the other." Jugyeong was shocked, trying to process and imagine the two together.

In her mind, they fit pretty well look-wise and personality-wise.

Suho saw how Chaewon's eyes could never quite meet his own and kept his eyes on her.

Seojun took notice of this and roughly brought her closer into his side and raised an eyebrow at the boy who had since then turned his attention back to him. Chaewon's eyes traveled to the ground while Seojun turned his head and scoffed before eying his nemesis once again.

"So annoying."

Chaewon, wanting to escape from the situation, started tugging at her brother's hand that was still hanging off of her shoulder. "Let's go, Jun." Seojun kept his eyes on Suho for another second or two before complying with his sister's wishes.

The frozen exterior of Suho's heart cracked a bit as Chaewon's expressions burned and lingered in his mind, watching the siblings walk off.

The girl in question fighting the urge to look back at him.

❀❀❀

"Hello!" The teacher greeted the class who greeted him back while walking into the room with Seojun and Chaewon in tow.

Suho slightly perked up as they went up to the front of the room, both with their heads held high and looking bored as ever.

This time it seems, Chaewon had no problem in locking gazes with Suho before looking over the class again.

"Alright, Seojun and Chaewon are back now. Good to see them, right?" The class answered back 'yes' before giving a round of applause as instructed by the teacher.

"Bravo!" Cheers kept ringing throughout the classroom, Seojun looking off to the side in faux embarrassment while Chaewon just kept a blank and cold face, intimidating some of the students into silence.

"One of you can sit next to Suho—" The twins looked at each other in alarm, though not particularly showing it.

"What?"

"What now?"

They looked at the teacher.

All eyes were either on Suho, who just looked straight ahead, or the twins, one sighing before walking to where Jugyeong was sitting.

Chaewon watched him kick the leg of the desk, startling the girl.

"Yah. You go."

Jugyeong was just as bewildered as when they first met, only being able to point at herself and ask, "Me?" in a meek voice.

"This was originally my sister's spot." That alone was almost enough for Jugyeong to jump out of the seat, not wanting to test the girl's 'dangerous' reputation.

"Oh, Jugyeong has weak eyes, so she's sitting there." The teacher explained, causing Chaewon to quietly scoff and mumble to herself, "'Weak eyes' my ass..."

Though the teacher had heard her, he elected to ignore it before asking Taehoon to move.

"Taehoon. Our handsome Taehoon, can you switch spots?" The boy, of course, readily and excitedly accepted; the class laughing from his antics.

But before he could get up and walk to his newly appointed spot, he noticed that Seojun had still not moved from his place near Jugyeong's seat.

Chaewon walked up to Seojun, noticing that he was about to refute his senior and demand that she have her seat back.

But she was tired and didn't feel that it was necessary; even if it meant having to sit next to Lee Suho, it was better her than her twin.

She nudged him, getting his attention before nodding to the seat in the corner of the class, "It's fine, Jun."

The seat she motioned to was perfect for napping and not paying attention, she really knew how he was in school. But that didn't matter to Seojun if his sister had to sit next to his rival. He started mumbling about how her sitting next to said rival wasn't happening, but Chaewon was persistent in her glares, slightly pinching him and making the boy wince as he felt her sharp, ruby-red stiletto nails.

He conceded, but not before throwing a sharp and dangerous look at Suho, though the boy wasn't phased.

The twins split ways; Seojun going to his new seat in the back, Chaewon taking the one next to Suho's with Taehoon two spots behind her.

She felt Suho's gaze burn into the side of her face, but paid no mind and rested her head on the desk as her brother was doing for a nap.

Not even 5 minutes later, the sound of a door slamming open caused Chaewon to wake up, looking to the side instinctively. She didn't quite know how to feel when she didn't see Suho there, but quickly turned her attention back to the source of the sound that disturbed her sleep.

A group of boy entered the room, crowding around Seojun who still had his head on the desk.

"Yah, Han Seojun. If you and your sister returned, at least one of you should've shown your face and said hi." Chaewon suddenly stood up from her desk, the object making a horrible screeching sound that had all eyes on her. Seojun banged his fist on the desk before doing the same, exchanging looks with his sister once he felt her presence beside him.

The siblings had a stare off with the taller boy, causing the students to tense up.

This continued outside the school, Seojun and Chaewon standing a couple feet in front of the group of boys when the big one spoke.

"Hey, brother. Today's such great weather for you to die." Seojun rolled his eyes.

"Are you guys a girl group or something?" He scoffed.

"Seriously. Why are you standing like that?" Chaewon questioned, but the boys just sneered and chuckled mockingly among themselves.

"Why? Are you going to hit us? Okay, come in. Come here!" They all got into fighting stances.

"Yah, Kim Chorong!" Seojun's voice boomed, the two stepping up to the boys intimidatingly before he spoke up in a mock bravado tone.

"Your joke was a bit too much." That's what did it for all of them. Everyone started laughing, Chaewon even turning to her brother and playfully punching him before mocking his words.

"Hey, great acting for a pair of trainees." Chaewon playfully rolled her eyes at the boy while smirking.

"Ex-trainees, thank you very much." Chorong just stuck his tongue out at her to which she did the same.

"This is so childish." Seojun said, feigning irritation, "How much longer do I have to play around?"

"Yah, brother!… it's honestly fun, you know?” Chaewon started to laugh harder at the sound of their joy and the sight of seeing her brother teased further.

“Have you guys been well?” She asked.

“Yeah.”

“Woah!” Seojun suddenly exclaimed. “Kim Chorong, I think you gained more weight. Did you bulk up?” The victim of the taunting was staring at the taunter with incredulity while the rest started to crack up again. Chaewon rolled her eyes and shoved her brother’s shoulder, going to wrap her arms around the bigger boy.

“Yah! Leave him alone, Junie.” She pouted.

“Thank you, Chaewon! And for your information, I lost 10 kilograms!” Chaewon giggled at the banter as one of the boys commented that he could see the muscles.

Chorong turned to look down at the girl who was still clinging to his side.

“If your mother better?” He asked. She smiled fondly at her friend’s concern and nodded her head.

“She’s a lot better. Thanks, Chocho.” The two exchanged eye-smiles as the rest let out relieved sighs.

“What a relief. I’m sorry I couldn’t make a munsang.” Chorong said, turning back towards the other twin.

“Yah, what do you mean by munsang, you fool?” Seojun scolded. “It should be munbyeong.”

“Hey, hey, hey.”

“Smart!”

Chaewon smiled as her brother proudly pulled her towards him, wrapping his arms around the girl and resting his head on top of her head, both smirking.

It was good to be back.

❀❀❀

Chaewon decided to break off from the group to get food from the cafeteria, having forgotten money to go to the snack bar.

While in line, she spotted Lee Suho.

He’s so different... She couldn’t help thinking the obvious, but it felt so unsettling for her to see the boy she once thought she knew so well to be so... cold.

But under the circumstances that occured, it was understandable. And she couldn’t be a hypocrite by saying that he was the only one that changed.

Then all of a sudden—

“That girl...” Im Jugyeong had come to the lonely looking boy and gave him a red ginseng juice.

His favorite.

How did she know it was his favorite?

Why did she give it to him?

Why did I care?

Why am I asking all these questions?

“The hell?” Jugyeong walked away as Chaewon started placing food onto he tray.

Later that day while Chaewon was looking for her brother and friends, she saw Suho sitting on a bench looking at his phone with earbuds in, when the girl came up to him again.

This time, she was holding a large bag and took out one of his earbuds before whispering something to him and quickly running off.

Ah, so she’s another one of his fangirls. I should’ve known. Chaewon rolled her eyes, starting to walk again.

Only to stop again, seeing Lee Suho actually get up and seemingly follow the girl.

Chaewon couldn’t contain her curiosity and decided to quietly follow him, ending up at the rooftop.

She stayed by the door and watched their interaction. She almost felt bad for Im Jugyeong, knowing how harsh Suho could be.

It seemed to be worse this time around though since Jugyeong decided to flee from the rooftop, not even noticing her eavesdropper.

“Wahhh, you’ve really changed, Lee Suho.” Chaewon said walking out from her hiding place.

Suho turned to her and looked irritated, but also somewhat guilty and surprised. He didn’t want her to see that.

“Did you follow me or something?”

“Mm-hm.” He was quite surprised by her honesty, but he should’ve seen it coming. “I was quite curious when that girl was so brazen as to do what she did. I had to see what would happen.”

Silence stood between the two for a moment before Suho sighed and brushed past Chaewon and back into the building. She continued forward to the edge of the ledge and placed her hands on it, observing the view and breathing it in before pulling two things from her pockets.

Suho watched from the entrance as the girl took a cigarette from the box and lit it with her lighter.

“You still do that stuff?” He couldn’t help but to ask. He, Seyeon, and Seojun always hated whenever she smoked, even though it was a pretty rare occurence. But it still came to a point where they organized an intervention and her family had almost sent her to rehab. After that, he thought she was sober, or at least got better at hiding her actions, but things change he supposed.

Chaewon didn’t answer, seemingly unbothered by his still being there and instead blowing another puff of smoke.

“Does Seojun know?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your busine-”

“I’m making it my business because I’m not going to stand here and let you ruin your life doing that shit!”

“Oh please, Lee Suho. I’ve done plenty of other stuff that’ll ruin my life, and I’m not going to start giving a fuck just because you say so.”

Suho internally cringed at the stuff implied by her words. He knew she was reckless and liked trouble, but he didn’t know how bad it might’ve gotten over the time they’ve been apart.

Seeing and interacting with her now made him question how close they really were back then.

“Besides, as if me dying wouldn’t make you happy.” Chaewon softly spoke, it almost sounded sorrowful; though it still held some hot resentment.

Suho felt his facial expressions go awry.

I wouldn’t be happy. I’d be devastated.

“Maybe I should do it more often. Speed up the process, put us both out of our misery, finally put a smile on that frustratingly, emotionless face of y-”

“Don’t.” He interrupted. Neither noticed how close Suho had gotten while she was talking.

“Don’t say those things.” He whispered.

Chaewon didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know what to say. And all she could hear was her heartbeat about to break out of her chest.

“Why not? It’s not like you care about me, right...?” Chaewon shakily asked with an almost mocking undertone.

He didn’t say anthing and neither did she.

After about a minute of nothing, Chaewon turned back around to face forward. She closed her eyes, trying to reel her emotions in. Bringing the cigarette back up for another hit, Suho took the death stick from between her lips and threw it onto the ground, putting it out aggressively with his shoe.

She was too shocked to even scold the boy and his actions, seeing how he had seemingly gotten even closer.

Suho stared intensely at the girl. His eyes were full of caring and warmth. Yet at the same time, they were full of cold nothingness. But Chaewon could see under that, she always could; that’s one of the things that made them so compatible.

She just didn’t know if her senses were trust-worthy or not this time around.

They could always tell how the other actually felt. But times have changed.

They changed.

They weren’t Suho and Chaewon anymore.

They weren’t anything anymore.

❀❀❀

It was the next day during gym.

The students were outside playing dodgeball while Chaewon had her tracksuit jacket wrapped around her waist, exposing her normal clothes, and sat on the sidelines watching her brother play.

She could feel a certain pair of eyes on her every so often as she felt herself do the same, but nobody else seemed to notice it.

“Yes! Han Seojun, out!” Chaewon laughed at the fact her brother was eliminated, especially with it being by the hands of Lee Suho and Yoo Taehoon.

As he walked off to join his sister who was now standing up, the ball from the girls’ side traveled to where the twins were, Seojun stopping it with his foot before Im Jugyeong could grab it.

“Yah. You’ve seen us before, right?” Jugyeong laughed awkwardly as the twins stared down at her.

“What are you saying?” She tried taking the ball only for Seojun to press harder on it.

“You ran off with my helmet and my sister’s hair sticks.” She looked back up at him.

“Did you not?”

Jugyeong’s eyes went to the space beside him and pointed at something, “Oh! Over there!”

“We didn’t fall for that last time either-“ Before he knew it, Seojun was shoved to the side as a ball collided with the back of Chaewon’s head who although wasn’t in any pain, was pretty pissed.

Several noises of shock and disbelief sounded from the boys’ side.

“Chae-ah!” Seojun rushed back to his sister’s side and held onto her. “Are you okay?” Before she could answer, he turned to the culrptiy and glared at him with flaming death and growled, “Aish!”

“S-S-Sor… T-t-t-the class president! It was the class president.” Ahn Hyungyu tried explaining in extreme fear.

Jugyeong stood up with the now free ball. “I’m sorry. I’ll give them both back tomorrow.”

It felt like déjà vu when the girl turned around again about to fall on her face; only this time, no one was gonna help her.

Lee Suho, who was watching the whole thing in silent anger, stalked off, but not before roughly shouldering the boy who accidentally injured Chaewon and stepped over Jugyeong’s sprawled out body.

The show was over and Seojun went to scold Hyungyu who was still apologizing profusely, but Chaewon stayed where she was, staring at the boy who was walking back into the school’s building who wanted nothing more than to ask if she was okay.

❀❀❀

Chaewon, Seojun and the rest of their friends walked down the hallway; some girls and boys passing by whispered in awe and silently fangirled/fanboyed.

The twins walked beside each other and smirked at the attention. It was amusing to say the least.

This continued in an almost slow-motion fashion when all of a sudden—

“Wait.” Seojun dropped down to the floor and started re-tying his shoelaces. Chaewon chuckled and jokingly pushed his shoulder, making him lose his balance and making her laugh even more.

“MOVE!” The group looked forward to see Im Jugyeong running down the hallway with a face full of cake.

Although it was a weird sight, Chaewon stayed where she was and stood in front of the panicked girl.

Jugyeong came to a halt with wide eyes in front of the taller girl who had a questioning look with a perked up eyebrow.

She slightly bowed with a quiet “excuse me, sorry” before running past her and jumping onto Seojun’s back and catapulting herself forward.

“Yah!” Chaewon squatted down onto the floor beside her brother who was now sprawled on the floor. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” He gritted looking at the direction of the runaway girl.

But it didn’t stop there; the rest of their class following Im Jugyeong, also in a panic.

Chaewon hurriedly brought Seojun back up to his feet and pushed them both to the wall for safety.

“What the hell is going on?!”

They waited for a couple of seconds to see if anymore people would go stampeding down their way, being relieved when it seemed to be over.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Jun?” Chaewon looked over his body for any injuries.

“I’m fine, Chae. Really.” She smiled at him and linked their arms to start walking.

Then Lee Suho came from the other side of the hallway, the side where they had originally come from and where everyone had gone to.

And he wasn’t alone.

Hiding underneath his jacket was Im Jugyeong, still cake-faced.

The twins had to stop and stare at the unusual scene; neither knowing how to feel at the sight before them.

❀❀❀

🌸A/N: Yay! I can’t believe I finally published this. I’m going to start working on the second chapter as soon as possible. Also, I realize that Yeji is also 5’7, but I looked at the height of the other characters and decided that 5’9 was good. Besides that, please excuse any typos or mistakes. I hope you enjoyed!

BTW: The picture below is Chaewon’s outfit. The white dress shirt part of the uniform is unbuttoned and tied in a croptop way, showing the bralette. I tried finding a good picture of Saebom’s uniform but it was pretty hard so I just cropped Sujin’s. Sorry for it’s pretty low quality😅

#true beauty #cha eunwoo #hwang in yeop #moon ga young #fanfic #kdrama #han seojun #han seojoon #Lee suho #im jugyeong #im jukyung #true beauty fanfic #romance #comedy #angst #fluff #yeji #itzy yeji

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jingabitch · 5 years ago

Text

Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell ch.1

Summary: When you were ten, Taehyung adopted you and gave you a home. Now that you’re eighteen, the sudden change in your scent perplexes and confounds him.

Pairing: wolf hybrid!tae x human!reader (all bts members are hybrids)

Word count: 10.5k

A/N: here it is!! I hope you enjoy it and tell me what you think; I was really unsure about writing this, especially at the beginning. Edit: I will not be doing a taglist, so please don't ask. Thank you!

Series index

“Hyung –” Taehyung whined as he sulked on the couch of the dorm.

Yoongi sighed, looking over at his team member. “What is it, Taehyung-ie?”

“I’m bored,” Taehyung replied, crossing his arms over his chest as he slid down on the couch, his usually perky ears drooping.

The snow leopard hybrid just grunted, flicking one of his ears in irritation. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Hyung, come play with me, please?”

Namjoon, who was lying on the adjacent couch, stifled a snicker. Taehyung had been more needy than usual in the past few weeks, and he was working Yoongi’s last nerve. The older man had inherited his animal counterpart’s solitary tendencies, and while he was, for the most part, happy to socialize and hang out with the rest of them, Taehyung had been cutting into his alone time a little too much lately with his neediness, and the grey-haired hybrid was Not Happy.

Jin, their resident spotted hyena hybrid, laughed, a sound very reminiscent of his animal counterpart’s trademark sound. “Yoongi, just play with him. He’s lonely.”

Yoongi scowled. “Why do I have to do it?! Isn’t this why you got a pet in the first place, to keep you company?”

Taehyung’s frown deepened. “It is, but as you can clearly see,” he bit out, upset now, “Yeontan isn’t here.”

Hoseok, seeing the snow leopard hybrid taking in a deep breath to begin ranting, cut into the conversation to save the wolf hybrid from a scolding. “Hyung, you know how Tae is. He misses the company, is all.”

“Why don’t you just get another pet, then?” Yoongi asked.

“Because the same thing would happen, hyung,” Taehyung responded drolly, unable to hide his irritation at what he clearly thought was a ridiculous suggestion. “I don’t want to get attached to another pet, and then have to palm it off onto my parents again.”

Namjoon, ever the problem solver, lit up in that way that happened only when he had a eureka moment. “Get a human, then!”

The rest of them gawked at him. “A human?!” Jin asked skeptically.

“Yah, if he didn’t have time for a dog, how’s he going to care for a human baby? They’re even more high maintenance, and for way longer!” Yoongi snapped.

Namjoon made a rude noise. “Don’t get a baby, then! There’s lots of children and adolescents in shelters that need good homes. You can get one of those; they’re more self-sufficient.”

Taehyung’s mouth dropped open in shock. “That’s genius!”

Jungkook and Jimin, who had until now remained out of the conversation, immediately leapt up excitedly. “Yes, yes, can we adopt a human, pleaaaase,” Jimin pleaded. The black-footed cat hybrid, already small in stature and adorable because of his animal genes, opened his eyes wider and pouted up at the others.

Taehyung and Jungkook, seeing him, followed suit, and before long, the other members conceded, and they’d agreed to get a human pet. Taehyung, excited now that he was going to have a new little pack member to take care of and keep him company, immediately ran to get his laptop so he could research human shelters in Seoul.

Two hundred years ago, humans created hybrids in science labs. Splicing human genes with animals was supposed to create the perfect servant, companion and soldier – with the intelligence and capacity for emotional connection of humans and the superior physical capabilities of other animals, these new creations were supposed to make life better for humans.

What the scientists hadn’t realized, in their hubris, was that it was extraordinarily likely that the hybrids wouldn’t be content merely taking orders and serving the whims of humans, who were, after all, genetically inferior to their artificial perfection. A revolution and reordering of society occurred, and now humans were the pets, bred for the sole purpose of being the best possible companions for their hybrid owners.

You understood this history well enough, thanks to the kindly old hybrid who adopted you as a baby to soothe her empty nest syndrome after her grown-up children moved out and began their own lives, and her husband sadly passed away. She’d given you far more than she was obliged to as an owner, even ensuring that you had a basic education.

It had been a couple of years since she’d unfortunately passed away suddenly from a massive heart attack, landing you in a shelter when none of her family members wanted to take you in. Now that you were ten, you understood that the likelihood of you staying in the shelter for the rest of your childhood grew exponentially each day, as most families wanted babies or toddlers that would be more attached to their adopted families.

Plus, everyone loves babies.

You sighed as you pushed the covers off yourself. You’d finally managed to get a coveted bottom bunk bed after one of the girls in your room was adopted out, and you felt like you should be happier about it.

If only it wasn’t so sad to be happy about getting a bottom bunk in a shelter, after years of waiting your turn. You hoped against all hope that you wouldn’t spend much time in this bunk, that you’d be going home with another family soon, and you promised yourself there and then that if you ever got adopted, you’d do whatever it took to make your new family happy for saving you from this drudgery.

As you made your way to the cafeteria for breakfast, you noticed that there seemed to be a lot more… buzzing than usual. You shrugged it off – you’d been here long enough to know that it just meant a high-profile visit was scheduled for the day, and all of the children were told to dress up and be on their best behavior.

Picking up a tray and lining up for your breakfast, you held in a sigh. Most people are looking for babies and toddlers, and it’s rare that anyone wants to adopt at a shelter. Even when they do, they go for younger children, who are still cute and cuddly.

Well, not that you weren’t cuddly. It was literally in your genetic makeup to crave physical affection because hybrids like to snuggle with their pets, but you’d lost that cute doe-eyed helplessness that hybrid clients like in their pets. With a sigh, you took your tray and sat in a corner to eat, unwilling to listen to the excited chatter of the younger children. You weren’t that hopeful anymore, and it hurt too much after the first few times to get all excited and put in effort, only to not be chosen at the end of the day.

Finishing your breakfast, the same porridge with kimchi and laver that you have every morning, you went back to your room to wait. It’s standard procedure – every child has to remain by their bed in their room when the prospective client arrives and takes a tour to find the child they want to bring home.

With a sigh, you sat on your bed, propping the pillow up against the metal frame of your bunk bed, to continue reading the book you’d begged off from one of the caretakers. Most of the human children couldn’t read, because it wasn’t mandatory to teach them and many of them were rescued off the streets, but the grandmother who owned you before had taught you the basics.

You were still engrossed in the story – a classic from hundreds of years ago about a boy who found out he was a wizard and went to a school called Hogwarts – when Taehyung arrives, flanked by Namjoon on one side and Jimin on the other. The leader had accompanied Taehyung to restrain him and keep him from getting every child in the shelter, and Jimin had just wanted to see cute human children and give his two cents’ worth on the human they eventually adopted.

Because, as he said, he was Taehyung’s best friend so a pet Taehyung adopted would naturally be his business. The others didn’t quite buy it, but Taehyung seemed okay with him tagging along, so he cleared his schedule and came.

The matronly caretaker at the shelter, a middle-aged dog hybrid, came out to greet them excitedly when they arrived, gushing about all the cute children they had in the shelter, and how she hoped they would find their perfect match today.

They nodded and listened politely as she ushered them into her office, where she went over the ground rules for today. No pictures, no yelling, disturbing the children, et cetera. If there was a child they were interested in, they had to ask for permission before they were allowed to approach the child, and at all times children’s safety was paramount – if they indicated that they were uncomfortable, they could be removed from the situation without any repercussions. It was all aimed at ensuring that the humans were prioritized and felt safe in their home, and this was why Taehyung had chosen to support this shelter.

Namjoon, ever the responsible one, and Taehyung, who was dedicated to becoming a good pet owner, listened carefully as the hybrid caretaker explained what the challenges were in taking care of a human child, especially one that had lived in the shelter. Older children would be harder to train, she said, less malleable, and depending on what their circumstances had been before coming to live in the shelter, may have trauma or other psychological scars.

Jimin impatiently bounced around, aware that this was important stuff, but just excited to see some cute children and hopefully take one home today. When they finally stood up to leave the office and go to the dorm rooms where the children were waiting, Jimin could hardly keep the wide grin splitting his face under control, and Taehyung was similarly excited, the muscles under his shirt periodically tensing up as he resisted the urge to bounce along behind the caretaker. She was hardly likely to be impressed with him if he couldn’t demonstrate that he was a mature adult able to take care of a human child.

Because Taehyung had made it clear that he wanted an older, more self-sufficient human pet, the caretaker skipped the first two rooms, where the young children were, and the nursery, heading straight to your room. You were still reading your book, and she tutted as she saw you sitting there.

“Y/N, sweetie, would you like to come say hello to these nice hybrids?” she asked patiently, and you looked up from your story, surprised to see that there were indeed three men clustered behind her. Most hybrids decided on the child they wanted to bring home after seeing the younger children, so it was uncommon for you to see visitors.

You were tempted to reject the offer, but remembered your earlier promise to yourself, and smiled graciously, putting your bookmark back in and leaving your book on the bed. “Yes, ma’am,” you said sweetly, standing up and brushing imaginary lint off your skirt. “Good morning, sirs. My name is Y/N. I’m ten years old, and I’m very pleased to meet you,” you recited dutifully, remembering the spiel they taught all the children to say to visitors.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Y/N-ah,” the tall wolf hybrid said, kneeling down so he could look you in the eye. His ears twitched slightly as he looked up at you slightly, and you smiled back. He had such a friendly demeanor that you couldn’t help but feel comfortable around him immediately. “My name is Taehyung, and these are my friends Jimin and Namjoon,” he said, pointing at the other two hybrids. You weren’t certain what kind they were, although you deduced that Namjoon was some kind of canine hybrid and Jimin, based on the cute rounded ears on top of his head, was a large cat.

“It’s a pleasure you meet you all,” you said politely, looking up at them. Your speech was crisp, delicate and refined from years of being the prized companion of a wealthy old lady.

“Likewise,” Namjoon said with a nod, and Jimin said nothing, but smiled so widely that his eyes all but disappeared. You smiled back, liking them already, and hoping that they would choose you to go home with them.

“What are you reading, Y/N-ah?” Taehyung asked, and you took his hand excitedly, bringing him to the bed where you’d left your book. He trailed after you, looking back at the other two members with a wide grin. It was so cute, how you lit up when he expressed interest in what you were reading, and how at ease you seemed to be, even initiating contact with him. You didn’t seem aware of who they were, which he supposed was to be expected, since he didn’t think humans really kept up with pop culture, and it wasn’t like you were walking around the streets of Seoul where BTS music was playing all over and their photos were plastered on every available surface in the city.

Sitting down next to you, he listened, his chin in his hand, as you chattered away excitedly about the book. Namjoon and Jimin came to squat on either side of you, and you basked in the undivided attention that you hadn’t had since your previous owner passed away.

“Who taught you how to read, Y/N-ah?” Namjoon asked when you wound down, his ears sticking out of the black hair on his head flicking slightly.

“My previous owner,” you replied.

“She seems nice,” Jimin said carefully, and young as you were, you picked up the unspoken question.

“She was,” was all you said, a little quietly and sadly. You missed her, the woman who’d asked you to call her ‘mom’ and really had acted like a mother to you.

At least, you think so – you were bred by a breeder to be a pet, and you didn’t remember your own mother, having been too young when you were separated from her.

After talking for a little while more, they excused themselves and you smiled as graciously as you knew how, returning to your book as they left the room to go back to the office to discuss things further.

“Hyung, she’s so precious,” Taehyung fairly sang, spinning around in circles with his arms spread out wide.

Namjoon was more reserved, but he agreed internally. She wasn’t rambunctious in the way that Yeontan was, but adorable all the same, in the way she’d lit up while talking about her book and how easily she’d accepted their touch, clearly happy to have the physical affection.

Jimin, way more exuberant than Namjoon, grabbed Taehyung’s hands and bounced around with him. “We’re getting a human!” he cried out in excitement as they jumped like children up and down.

The wild dog hybrid just shook his head at his two younger bandmates, before leading the way into the caretaker’s office to settle the adoption paperwork.

You returned home with them that day, to your surprise and pleasure. You hadn’t allowed yourself to hope until the caretaker came back to let you know to pack your meagre possessions, and sends you off with them. Taehyung gives you a hug when you walk out of the building with your bag to join them, and straps you safely into his car before they take off, back to his apartment.

As you were travelling there, they chattered away, filling you in on what their home will be like. You found out that they were part of a boyband that live together, and you would be moving in with all seven of them. Apart from the three hybrids in the car with you – Taehyung, who bought you, the wolf hybrid; Namjoon, the serious-looking African wild dog; and Jimin, the adorable-looking black footed cat who was sitting in the back with you – there were another four. They were all predator hybrids, something Taehyung noted with some pride, beaming at your reflection in the rearview mirror.

You smiled back uncertainly at him, apprehensive about how different the new arrangement was from your previous one but still certain that no matter what, it would still be better than living at the shelter. It hadn’t been awful – it wasn’t like you’d been abused or anything while you were there – but with how stretched thin the resources at the shelter were, it had been impossible for you to get the care and attention that you required to be emotionally and mentally healthy after all this time.

Carrying yourself as stiffly as you could, in order to leave the best first impression possible, you hugged your bag tightly to your chest and stood ramrod straight in the elevator, resisting the urge to look around curiously. Your previous owner had been wealthy, but she hadn’t been this wealthy, and you’d never been in a lift that was so opulent before.

Taehyung tugged the bag out of your arms insistently, and you relinquished it after a brief struggle for control over it. You didn’t want to put him out, feeling that he’s already done enough, adopting you and giving you what looked like it would be an amazing home, but he was stronger than you and you were also concerned that he would think you were too stubborn or headstrong if you continued fighting him, so you let it go.

When they ushered you into your new home, though, your jaw dropped and you couldn’t hold back your reaction that time. The apartment was so nice and spacious, worlds away from the shared room you’d lived in at the shelter. Taehyung laughed at your expression and whisked you off to his bedroom, which was now a shared bedroom for the two of you, showing you where everything you would need was. After getting you settled in, he led you back out by the hand to the living room, where the other boys were gathered, eagerly waiting to meet you.

And that’s how you became part of the BTS family.

Your new home was very different from the one you had spent your early childhood in. Living with seven young and energetic hybrid men meant you suddenly had companions and playmates to indulge your more rambunctious impulses, whereas before you’d always had to be calm and docile, since there was no way your previous owner would have been able to keep up with a screaming and running child on the playground. It wasn’t like it had been bad – you were naturally a quieter child, but all children need space to run and play, to expend their excess energy, and as hard as she’d tried, she hadn’t been able to offer you that.

On the other hand, you played so much with your new family that you were completely exhausted every night, and Taehyung had to prod you to get ready for bed properly, instead of just collapsing in whatever you were wearing. He didn’t mind, though, pleased that you were having so much fun every day. Besides, having you around to dote on made all of them happy, especially Taehyung, who missed his young cousins and was still slightly bitter about how much of his siblings’ and cousins’ childhoods he hadn’t been around for, and later, his nieces and nephews.

And so you spent your adolescence in their company, making a home for yourself. It wasn’t just BTS that seemed to have adopted you – Big Hit as a whole did. The stylist noonas were utterly thrilled to finally have a little girl around on the regular, and treated you alternately like a little sister and a doll, dressing you up in all the cute girlish trends they privately sighed over but couldn’t experiment with.

Another benefit of having a human as a pet was that it was far easier to transport a person – humans were allowed on planes and buses, so you could travel with the boys. Your calming presence helped soothe frayed nerves and mediated fights, and ARMY loved watching the tender interactions between the boys, who were all predator hybrids, and the wide-eyed human child, claiming that it showed how nurturing the boys were despite their natural inclination, and how they would be good fathers someday. You even had your own little fanclub, like Yeontan had before you.

Speaking of Yeontan – the little dog had gone to live with Taehyung’s parents, so you didn’t get to see each other that often, but when you did, the two of you got along like a house on fire. Taehyung had to keep an eye on you at mealtimes to make sure most of the food on your plate wasn’t finding its way down to Yeontan, who lay casually across your feet at the dining table, while the dog was so excited to see you that he basically ignored Taehyung whenever the both of you arrived together.

The vlive of you and Yeontan taking a nap on the couch after Chuseok dinner with his family, curled up together as you whined about your tummy hurting while Taehyung, behind the camera, laughed as he teased you about being such a glutton but then went to rub your aching belly, became the most watched vlive ever, spawning a million GIFs.

It also became common for you to be somewhere in the background of Namjoon’s vlives, reading a book on his couch, while he chatted with fans. After many requests for you to appear on Eat Jin, you did eventually do an episode with him, although he spent the whole time comparing the food to meals he’d cooked for you in the past.

One might think that growing up the lone female around seven men might be awkward at times, especially with you going through adolescence and getting your period and all that, but they made it normal. Hybrids were far more open about normal bodily functions than human societies had been, and it would have been stranger for them to get squeamish about their pet’s bodily functions. There was no hiding from them when you got your period or anything like that, but they were so nonchalant about it that you were too, even warning you beforehand when you were going to start because they could smell the changes in your scent.

It was all fine – at least, until the boys went to the military.

All of them enlisted together when you were sixteen, and you went to live with Taehyung’s parents while they were serving. Living in Geochang was a change of pace from Seoul, but it was nice nevertheless. You helped out at his parents’ farm, got to play a lot more with Yeontan and the other animals running around, and had a lot more freedom since his parents were too busy to micromanage you.

During this time, you really grew into your own – enrolling in an online GED course, using the Internet and the enormous resources at your disposal to figure your personal style out, even finding human friends and a boyfriend. Who would have thought that Geochang had such a thriving human community?

Needless to say, by the time the two years had passed and you went back to live with Taehyung, you were a vastly different person, in both temperament and appearance, than you’d been the day he dropped you off.

Still, you’d missed being in Seoul with him, and you were excited to go with his parents to pick him up from the military base. You’d never been to visit him when his family members went, because they’d needed someone to stay home and tend to the crops and take care of the animals, and ever eager to please, you’d volunteered to do it even though you really wanted to see Taehyung too.

This time, though, you had to go, because everyone was going to Seoul to spend the night, and then you would stay with Taehyung. Although you hadn’t seen each other in two years, you’d kept in contact via text messages and video calls whenever he was free, and you knew that he’d decided to move into an apartment in Seoul without the other boys. It was about time – Seokjin was pushing thirty and planning to propose to his longtime girlfriend, and it was a little weird for seven men in their thirties to be living together anyway.

So you packed your things and prepared to move out of Geochang and back to Seoul. It wasn’t difficult – with technology it was easy for you to keep in contact with your friends in Geochang, and you’d broken up with your boyfriend a couple months ago on amicable terms. The most difficult thing for you had been saying goodbye to Tannie, who was getting on in years now and had relied on you more and more each day.

But move out you did, and you bounced in your seat all the way to the military base where Taehyung had been living for the past two years. When you first saw him walk out of the compound, still in his uniform, your excitement got the better of you and you flew towards him, perhaps uncharacteristically for you given how taken aback his parents were, but you didn’t care.

“Taehyung-oppa!” you screamed as you ran. To his credit, he didn’t waste any time processing the missile currently hurtling towards him, and just opened his arms for you to leap into.

“Hello, Y/N,” he laughed as he hugged you close. He’d missed you too, his cute little human, and after so long away from him, you didn’t smell anything like him anymore, something he was determined to change as he started rubbing his cheek on the top of your head. Used to it after living with him for so many years, you just stood still and let him do it.

Fansite photographers and more zealous fans who’d come to see him cooed and sighed at the cute picture you two made. You were still tucked under his arm, clinging to his shirt, as he greeted the people who were gathered, thanking them for coming all this way, and thanking his commanding officers and platoon mates for being there for him for the past few years.

Then it was over, and he was in the van with his family for a more private reunion. You were still clinging to him, not that he minded as he stroked your hair softly as he chatted with his family. He’d seen them when they’d come to visit, or during his breaks – it was just you that hadn’t had the chance to see him since he’d gone away.

During the drive back to Seoul, you tucked your face into his neck and took a nap, tired from all the excitement. While you were asleep, Taehyung asked his mother how you’d been. “Did she give you a lot of trouble?” he asked.

She chuckled. “No, she was an absolute angel. So good with the children and the animals, always eager to help out.”

He smiled. “Yeah? That tracks. The lady at the shelter told me she has an amazing pedigree.”

“It was a real joy having her, Taehyung-ah. You’re lucky to have such a sweet human in your life.”

“I am. I hope she had a good time in Geochang, too.”

Taehyung’s mother laughed at that. “Oh, did she ever!”

His curiosity piqued, his ears perked. “Sounds like you have some good stories to share.”

“The girl had the time of her life these past two years,” his mother snickered. “She had a lot more freedom in Geochang than in Seoul because it’s smaller and safer, so we let her go out on her own a lot more, and she’s really sociable. She even found a boyfriend.”

He raised a brow. “She did? Sounds like she had lots of fun in Geochang, then.”

He wanted to find out more about what you’d been up to, but since they were arriving in Seoul and would be at the restaurant for dinner, he couldn’t, instead waking you up since you always took a little while to be functional.

You untangled yourself from him sleepily and almost fell out of the car as you tried to get out, and it was only his father’s superior hybrid reflexes that saved you from eating asphalt as he caught you and put you back on your feet. Murmuring your thanks, you waited for Taehyung to climb out of the van and lead you into the restaurant by the hand.

Tonight, you were dining at a Korean barbeque restaurant, which was always a winner for the hybrid wolf family. Usually they just ate meat, not even bothering with lettuce wraps, but they were still nice enough to order some vegetables and king oyster mushrooms for you. You were in charge of grilling, of course, not that you minded, and hearing the praise from everyone else at the table made you glow a little every time.

Taehyung was the center of attention that evening, of course, as he regaled his family with tales of his time in the military. He was the first member of BTS to be discharged, although since they’d all enlisted at around the same time, the others were due to be discharged in the coming few months, so unfortunately there weren’t funny stories of his bandmates coming to visit him, but Bang PD had, and so had some stylist noonas.

There were also stories about silly punishments and shenanigans, water parades, being made to hold the wall and shout, “Help, help! The wall is falling,” because he’d been caught leaning against it once, that made everyone crack up and you almost drop the tongs right on the grill.

Eventually, though, he started asking about how everyone had been, which turned, perhaps inevitably, into everyone ganging up on you and trying to tell the most embarrassing story they could think of. You sighed and whined as one by one, they all took turns rehashing your various mishaps to Taehyung – you trying to climb a tree and getting stuck like a cat, your various fashion disasters as you tried to ‘find yourself’ – complete with pictures, of course, and worst of all, your theatrics when your GED certificate came in the mail.

Well, you were really proud of that last one, but did they really have to describe your joyful outburst as helpless histrionics?

Still, though, the way Taehyung squeezed your hand as he told you how proud he was of you made everything better.

Soon enough, dinner was over and all of you piled back into the van to go to Taehyung’s new apartment. It had already been set up by the multitude of assistants that BigHit had, with some input from his parents, so it was basically already liveable. With so many people helping, it wasn’t long before all your things were moved into the apartment too, and then the two of you were left alone, for the first time in two years.

Since you had so much spare room in the apartment, you had your own bedroom, and it was beautifully decorated just how you’d pictured it, with a very pretty queen-sized bed in one corner with a white cushioned headboard and pink-and-grey patterned sheets, a reading nook in front of floor-to-ceiling windows with an overstuffed chair and foot rest, a lamp, and a large bookshelf with a ladder occupying the adjacent wall, and a little coffee table with a scented candle already on it next to the chair. Fluffy rugs were strewn across the room, and a wooden dressing table sat on the opposite side of the room. It was beautiful and comfortable, everything you’d dreamed of, but when you got ready for bed, you found yourself missing Taehyung.

Which led to you in your pajamas, all scrubbed down and ready for bed, knocking plaintively on Taehyung’s bedroom door. He seemed to know that you would be there even before opening the door, which he probably had, with his enhanced senses (and the fact that there was no one else in the apartment).

When he opened the door for you, clad in just his pajama pants, all you had to do was pout up at him and he was standing aside to let you in. Generally, he indulged your every whim, because according to his life philosophy, why have pets if you weren’t going to spoil them rotten? Making a beeline for his bed, you made yourself comfortable by burrowing under his sheets and fluffing up one of his pillows.

Shaking his head at you, Taehyung followed you back to the bed, getting into the other side with an indulgent huff. “You know, I paid a lot of money for your bedroom,” he said drolly. Ignoring his remark, you cuddled close to him and shut your eyes stubbornly, and he capitulated with a sigh, stroking your head as you drifted off to sleep.

Somehow, you smelled different than he remembered. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, and it wasn’t bad by any means, but it was just… different. And he didn’t quite know what to do about it.

For some reason he’d been reluctant to ask his parents, even though they’d been the ones living with you for the past two years, if they’d sensed anything different about you. He’d rationalized it to himself at the point – since they’d been with you every day it was likely that they wouldn’t notice anything different if your scent had changed gradually, and if it had been sudden and enough to cause worry, they would already have let him know about it.

Still, his mind wouldn’t stop racing with the possibilities as he leaned in closer to take a good whiff. He could still smell the base notes of your scent, which had always been somewhat citrusy, but now it was slightly… earthier, with a musky, deeper aroma threaded through it. Was it vanilla? Perhaps cinnamon?

Whatever it was, it was nice, and he shut his eyes to allow himself to drift off after deciding to do research on humans’ scent changes tomorrow. He didn’t think it was anything to worry about – any illness would definitely have a sharper, less pleasant scent – but he didn’t know why your scent would suddenly change again. It had changed gradually once before, as you went through puberty, but based on what he’d read about humans, it shouldn’t change again for many years yet.

No harm finding out more about what could be causing it, he thought as he slipped after you into slumber. Maybe he would take you to a doctor, too, if it became necessary.

Morning dawned, and Taehyung woke up leisurely for the first time in too long, slowly blinking his eyes against the morning sunlight streaming in from the windows. As he slowly became conscious of his surroundings, he became aware that he was the most comfortable he’d ever been, probably in his life, and he nuzzled closer behind your ear.

Wait a minute. A second later, he drew back. He didn’t remember going to sleep with a lover, and he definitely hadn’t had a girlfriend since his last one broke up with him while he was in the army. So who was he currently wrapped around…?

When it dawned on him, he recoiled in horror, and almost crab scuttled away from you. Thankfully, you were still asleep and hadn’t noticed his morning boner pressed against you, because it was beyond inappropriate for him to feel that way about you, his pet.

Unfortunately, his abrupt movements pulled on the duvet that you were sharing, and jostled you awake. He froze, wide-eyed, as you stirred. “Taehyung-oppa?” you said, voice raspy with sleep.

“Shh, I’m just going to pee,” he lied. “Go back to sleep, sweetie, it’s still early.”

You hummed wordlessly as you burrowed back into the covers, and despite his own inner turmoil, he smiled at you as he straightened the duvet over you before he left the bedroom.

He darted into the bathroom, where he sat on the edge of the tub, his head in his hands. God, what the hell was wrong with him? You weren’t a hybrid, and he didn’t understand how this could have happened. In that moment before he’d woken up fully and realized what was happening, his instinct had been to treat you like a… lover. He shuddered at the thought.

Okay, he thought, getting up. He was going to take a shower, rub one out, and then pretend like everything was fine. This was an aberration, just a weird fluke. You were warm and in his bed, and it had been a really long time since he had any action, since military service tended to inhibit such activities.

He just needed to get laid, and get used to your new scent, and then everything would be fine. No one would need to know about this embarrassing little slip-up.

With renewed determination, he started stripping off his clothes to get into the shower. All soaped up, he started sliding a hand down his body to grasp his erection firmly, which had never really gone away. Biting his lip, he started stroking it slowly, running his thumb over the head on the upstroke. His mind, however, remained unfocused, flitting between various memories and porn he’d watched, never able to focus on anything long enough to immerse himself.

That is, until his enhanced wolf hearing picked up the rustling sounds in the bedroom. He could hear, even over the sound of the shower, so clearly what you were doing that his mind had no problem filling in the blanks. The rustle of the sheets meant you were pushing the covers back; the soft thud on the ground meant you’d sat up and put your feet down. Then you stretched, and he definitely had no problem imagining it – or an overly erotic version of what actually transpired. Your soft moan of satisfaction as you cracked your spine sent a shiver running through him.

After that, it was basically a race to the finish line, as he fisted himself as hard as he could, leaning forward to brace his free hand against the wall in front of him. Usually it took a little longer, and he would play with his balls more, but it wasn’t going to be necessary this time, he could feel it. Remembering how good you’d smelled this morning was enough to push him over the edge, and he muffled his groan in his shoulder as he came all over the wall of his shower, the hand on the wall curling into a fist.

“Fuck,” he panted as he washed the cum off himself and the wall. Needless to say, he didn’t feel any cleaner after that shower.

When he came out of the shower, you were already getting breakfast ready. Another perk of having a team of assistants dedicated to making your life easier – the fridge came fully stocked. You’d washed up and pulled a sweatshirt on over the cami and pajama pants, and he couldn’t help but smile when he saw that it was a BTS merchandise from several years ago.

“Good morning,” you chirped, flipping the bacon. “I didn’t know what you wanted for breakfast, but I remember how much you love bacon, so I figured this would be safe.”

He leaned his elbows on the island and watched you warily from a distance. “Are you sure you should be cooking?”

“I got better,” you shot back defensively. “You shouldn’t have let me take cooking lessons from Namjoon-oppa in the first place.”

“No, I really shouldn’t have,” he agreed absently. You really had improved in your cooking, he thought, watching how easily you moved around the kitchen. It wasn’t long before a giant helping of bacon was sitting in front of him, with a more modest, human-sized portion on your plate, and some toast.

“You really should have let me make you breakfast,” he sighed, even as he started to tuck in. “I miss spoiling you.”

You shot him a cheeky grin. “Not to worry, you spoiled me plenty while you were in the military,” you sassed him.

He huffed out a laugh. “I know, I saw the credit card statements.”

Giggling, you eat another bite of your breakfast and smile at him with your cheeks stuffed, and his heart clenches with fondness. How could someone so plainly adorable drive him so crazy this morning? It must have been a fluke; his instincts misfiring. He just needed to get laid, and then everything would be fine.

Update: everything was not fine.

Things got progressively worse over the next couple of weeks, until Taehyung was honestly filled with dread every night when you came into his room and slid under the sheets on the side of the bed you’d claimed as yours.

It was getting to the point that all you had to do was sidle up to him for some cuddles and he would start getting sidetracked from having your scent invading his personal space. And yet it wasn’t like he could ask you to dial it back – it was in your nature to be physically affectionate and needy; it was literally what you’d been bred for. What could he possibly say, anyway? “Sorry, but can you stop touching me, it turns me on”? You’d be horrified, and rightly so. You trusted him, he could see it every time you smiled up at him like the sun, looked at him with complete adoration in your eyes, came to sit on his lap for cuddles. His reaction was a complete betrayal of that trust.

There was definitely something wrong with him. It was sick for a hybrid to be thinking about his human pet in this way. Maybe he should be the one to see a doctor, but he’d probably be arrested.

Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing, if it guaranteed your safety from him.

Amidst all the angst and worrying about whether he was a danger to his own pet human, there were some bright moments. All of his brothers were discharged from the military, and after Jungkook, the last to be discharged, was released, they’d all gone for a massive reunion/celebration. You’d wanted to join, but he’d said no, knowing that there would definitely be plenty of alcohol that night, which meant that firstly, he wouldn’t be in any position to look after you and/or resist your charms, and secondly, your underage self was definitely not going to see how depraved your precious oppas were going to get.

The night started off well enough, with a nice dinner at an exclusive new restaurant in Seoul. The wine flowed freely, and by the time they were done, everyone was more than a little tipsy. They then moved to a club – again, exclusive and new – where they were automatically ushered to the mezzanine. A bottle of whisky was brought to their table, but soon enough, several of them had left to hit the dance floor – Jungkook, that brat, was of course looking for someone to spend the night with, and Hoseok and Jimin just wanted to tear up the dance floor.

“How have you been spending your time off?” Namjoon asked. Taehyung had been a little off all night, quieter than usual and when he thought no one was watching, he had a little frown perpetually affixed to his face.

Taehyung forced a nonchalant shrug – or at least, what he hoped passed for nonchalance. “Just hanging around,” he said vaguely, hoping to fend off any more probing into his life. “What about you?”

Namjoon looked amused. “Tae, I was discharged three days ago. I spent it sleeping and fixing up my apartment.”

“Right, right,” he said, staring studiously into his glass of whisky as if the amber-coloured liquid could tell him the secrets of life.

“How’s Y/N?” Yoongi piped up. Of course, he would be the one to bring you up first. For all his bitching and moaning when Taehyung adopted you, he quickly grew the most attached, and the feeling was mutual. He was your very favourite oppa after Taehyung, and sometimes – like when Taehyung has no choice but to discipline you – he was pretty sure Yoongi was your favourite.

“She’s fine,” Taehyung said, aiming for the innocent enthusiasm he used to have when talking about you, but from the way Namjoon’s eyebrow went up, he knew he’d failed.

“Is everything okay?” Namjoon asked slowly.

Taehyung gulped. The jig was up. Curse his inability to hide his feelings. Well, no matter. If pretending like everything was okay at home wasn’t going to work, there was always good old avoidance.

“Yes, everything’s fine!” he exclaimed a little manically, knocking back the rest of his drink in one gulp. “I’m going to hit the dance floor,” he said, making his escape quickly.

The others, a little surprised, didn’t react, letting him leave, although they exchanged suspicious glances. Something was up with Taehyung; he’d made that obvious enough.

Stepping onto the dance floor, he saw Jungkook in one corner getting hot and heavy against a wall with his chosen companion for the night, and he sighed enviously. He wished he could still do that. It wasn’t that they were afraid someone would go to the press – this club really was exclusive, and only celebrities and the ultra-wealthy (read: chaebol relatives) could even enter the club, so discretion would be guaranteed by both parties.

Instead, it seemed that as his attraction for you grew, his ability to find other, more suitable hybrid women attractive… diminished. Which was another pretty significant part of the problem that he didn’t even know how to address. He’d tried hooking up with hybrids over the past couple of weeks, but none of them ever smelled right. There was always something that felt a little bit off that prevented him from taking things further with them, no matter how much he might want to.

He was going crazy, he was sure of it. How could his sexual attraction be focused completely on one human woman? There was no way that this was okay.

He just had to hide it from others. He didn’t know what he was going to do about it yet, and it wasn’t like he didn’t trust his brothers, but this was a little different, and as much as he wouldn’t blame them, he couldn’t imagine the judging or pitying looks they would direct at him if he told them what was going on with his life.

No, better to keep it to himself for the time being.

His resolve seemed, unfortunately, alcohol-soluble. When the night ended, Taehyung returned to his apartment, saw that his bed was empty and immediately turned around to go to your room, where you’d settled in for the night since you weren’t sure what time he would come back, if he came back at all – hey, you weren’t one to judge. Spotting the human-shaped lump under the covers of your bed in the darkness, he stumbled over to the bed and lifted the covers to slide in.

It was then that Taehyung discovered that those cute camis and pajama pants that shouldn’t drive him crazy but did were you dressing more modestly than usual for bed, out of consideration for him. Because tonight, you weren’t wearing pants.

His brain seemed to short-circuit as he stared at your panty-clad ass, but he must have lifted the covers for too long because the cold started to make you stir as you turned over, patting the area around you looking for the blanket. Not finding anything to grab on to, your eyes opened slowly, and you squinted up at Taehyung.

“Oppa?” you croaked. “You’re back.” Clearing your throat, you reached for your phone on the bedside table. “What time is it?”

He groaned as he watched the way your body stretched out as you turned away from him. “You smell so good,” he whined, flopping down on the other side of the bed, and squirming close to you.

You allowed him to press himself against you, knowing that he was a needy drunk. This wasn’t exactly new for you – Taehyung didn’t get drunk as often as his other members did, but he still did occasionally, and you’d been with him for so many years now that you had a routine by now.

“Oppa… are you still dressed?” you whined as your bare skin came into contact with his jeans. You hissed in displeasure as the cold metal on his belt buckle pressed against your thigh.

“…No,” he said unconvincingly after a moment.

You squirmed out of his grasp, and he let out a forlorn whine that reminded you of his animal half. “Come on, you should get changed at least, you won’t sleep well in your clothes. I’ll go get your pajamas, okay?”

“Nooo,” he made grabby hands at you. “Don’t leave.” He pulled you back into his embrace, pressing his face into your throat. “You smell so good,” he slurred, rubbing his face against you.

You giggled at the ticklish sensation, resisting the urge to push him away. “At least take your pants off, okay?” you negotiated. “I have some water here, you should have some before you go to sleep…” Your voice trailed off as you reached for the bottle you always kept on your bedside table, and his head fell to the pillow with a soft thump as you pulled away. His eyesight was far better than yours, and he took the opportunity to stare at you while you weren’t able to notice it.

While he drank, you wriggled yourself back into the bed, blinking sleepily in the dark as you listened to the rhythmic sound of him gulping down the water. When he’d had enough, he started to lay down, and you quickly intervened. “No, you can’t sleep in your clothes!”

He laughed in response. “You’re very eager to take my pants off, love,” he teased.

Your whole body flushed with heat and you drew back, sulking. “Fine, sleep in your clothes, then. Just don’t complain in the morning,” you snapped, turning over to go to sleep.

Instead of doing the same, Taehyung scooched closer and threw an arm around you. “Don’t be like that, baby,” he purred. “I was just teasing. I’ll take off whatever you want me to,” he promised.

Hearing him speak to you in that tone, though, had you all kinds of worked up. It wasn’t unusual for him to call you baby – he’d always used that pet name on you, and Yeontan and all his other pets as well. It was just the way he’d said it… it reminded you of the way your ex back in Geochang used to talk to you when he was horny. And you found, to your shame, that you’d reacted to it with a small shiver.

That couldn’t be right, though. Humans and hybrids weren’t compatible in that way. You’d just been reminded of Jong-in in that moment – even though you’d broken up, it had been amicable, and you’d always enjoyed physical intimacy with him; it was a natural reaction.

While you were busy rationalizing it to yourself, though, the scent of your arousal hit Taehyung and he pressed himself closer with a groan. “Why do you smell so amazing, Y/N-ie?” he asked, pushing his nose insistently into the crook behind your ear. Unfortunately, his belt buckle pressed into the strip of skin on your lower back exposed by the way your camisole rode up.

“Agh,” you cried out in displeasure, squirming away from him. “It’s cold!”

“What? What’s cold, baby?”

“Your belt,” you heaved out, and his hands immediately went to it.

“Okay, it’s going,” Taehyung responded placatingly, undoing it and throwing it onto the ground beside the bed. Now that he’d gotten started, his pants were quick to follow, being scrunched into the corner of the bed under the covers where he’d kicked them, and his button-down shirt. Finally, clad in just his boxers and undershirt, he relaxed into the mattress, and you cuddled close, satisfied now.

“Good night, oppa,” you murmured as you slotted yourself into your usual spot in his side, your eyes drifting shut as you clutched his shirt in your fist.

He mumbled something indistinct in response, but you could feel his hand resting on your back, and you went to sleep peacefully.

(line break)

Taehyung woke up in a bed that wasn’t his own, half-dressed, and was confused for a moment, wracking his brain for memories of last night. Had he finally managed to get some?

Rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand, he propped himself up on his elbow and peered around, realizing that it was your room. So he hadn’t broken his dry spell, then. Damn.

Pushing the covers away, he meandered out of your bedroom to the kitchen, where you were already working on some hangover breakfast for him. “Good morning,” you chirped, turning away from the stove to point at the glass of water and hybrid painkillers you’d laid out for him. “In case you feel bad,” you explained.

He sat down and downed the water, ignoring the painkillers – he didn’t feel that bad – as he took you in. You’d put some pants on, and a cardigan over the camisole you’d worn to bed, and tied your hair back in a messy ponytail. As a hybrid, he naturally ran warmer than you, so during winters you made sure to pile the layers on to remain warm.

This line of thinking triggered a memory of you squealing in protest at the cold metal of his belt buckle touching your skin last night, and he paled as he remembered how inappropriately he’d acted with you. He watched you carefully, but you seemed the same as always, and he wasn’t sure if he should just pretend it never happened or apologize for it.

When you deemed the yukgaejang ready and took it off the stove to serve together with two bowls of freshly cooked rice, his guilt at how boorishly he’d treated you last night overwhelmed him and he blurted, “About last night – ”

You looked up from the drawer where you were picking the utensils out. “Yeah?”

“Um… about what I said…” he trailed off awkwardly.

“Oh, you mean the scent thing? Don’t worry, I get it,” you laughed it off, waving a hand in the air dismissively. “It’s because of the pack bond, right?”

“The what?” Completely confused, he just stared at you as you poured some soup into your rice.

“The pack bond? I read about it, that some hybrids can form pack bonds with the people around them. Like you did with the other members, or your pets, I guess,” you said, shrugging.

Instead of responding immediately, Taehyung chose to shovel a huge mouthful of stew and rice into his mouth to give him more time to think about how to respond. You’d given him the perfect cop-out for any overly affectionate behavior he might display. He was sure you didn’t know enough about hybrid pack behaviours to actually call him out on his lies.

“Y- yeah, that’s it,” he said, the visible relief on his face making you smile at him cheerily, your triumph at guessing correctly written all over your face.

As you both went back to eating, you felt something that had tensed up inside you last night unclench. It was just the pack bond. You could stop thinking about it, and you wouldn’t misinterpret anything anymore.

Returning to the studio to work on their comeback was a relief for Taehyung. For one thing, it meant that he would be spending most of his time away from you and your maddening scent. For another, he’d worried (perhaps needlessly, given the outpouring of support and congratulations on their social media when they were each discharged) that they wouldn’t be relevant anymore and he would be out of a job.

He’d also really missed his brothers, and was excited to work with them again.

However, what he hadn’t anticipated was that they’d missed you just as much as him, and you felt the same way. Every evening when he came home you were there, waiting for fun stories about the other members, and they pestered him incessantly for updates about you or, better yet, pictures or videos, or best of all, bringing you to the studio.

Since you basically begged for the same thing, he’d pretty much had no choice.

You chattered on excitedly from the front seat of his car as he drove to the studio. It was unbearably early, but that didn’t seem to deter you. Most mornings you were the one who woke him up anyway, since you were by far the most patient out of the members and producers. Even without you being there most days, the members knew that any time Taehyung showed up for practice on time and awake it was because of your efforts.

You fairly skipped from the carpark all the way to the studio where the boys were supposed to be working today, dragging Taehyung along in your wake. You knew the building like the back of your hand by now, having spent much of the time you’d been with Taehyung here. Even the boys from TXT knew you, and often kept snacks and things in their studios for you when you dropped by.

Reaching the corridor where the studio was located, you ran down it and burst into the studio, a ball of almost frenzied energy. “Hi!” you cried exuberantly, causing the current occupants of the room to look up at you. Almost all the members were there, sans Yoongi and, of course, Taehyung, who was following you at a more sedate pace, and they grinned at you.

“Y/N!” Jungkook leapt up from his seat and rushed over to you, and as you hugged him he picked you clean off the floor to swing you around, giggling. The tiger hybrid’s ears flicked excitedly as he took you in. “Don’t you look pretty today?” he cooed, rubbing his cheek over the top of your head. You stood still to let him, used to all the members attempting to scent you since it was basically an affectionate gesture.

“Thank you, Kookie-oppa,” you said politely, smiling up at him.

“You’re such a polite girl,” Seokjin complimented you, pulling a Tupperware of your favourite spicy baby octopus out of his bag. When Taehyung had texted them last night that you would be coming today, he’d immediately gotten to work preparing some of your favourite snacks.

“Ooh, thank you, Seokjin-oppa!” you sang as you stood to take it from him – with both hands, of course, and accompanied by a deep bow.

“Don’t you mean Seokjin-samchoon?” Jungkook ribbed, causing the hyena hybrid to snarl at him.

By the time Taehyung entered the room, you were sandwiched between Namjoon and Jimin, happily sharing your food with them, while Jungkook and Seokjin were playfighting, Hoseok egging both of them on. He sighed as he headed to the last empty couch and dropped down on it heavily, used to the chaos of his members.

“Where’s Suga-hyung?” Taehyung asked, looking around.

You shrugged. “Probably still in bed,” you responded to the amusement of everyone in the room.

Unfortunately for you, the man in question walked through the doors just in time to hear your remark, and he scowled. “For your information,” he bit out acerbically, “I was in my studio. I’m not Jimin,” he said, rolling his eyes, even as he bent down in front of you and opened his mouth for the proffered mouthful of food you were holding in your chopsticks for him.

“Hey!” Jimin protested. “I thought we were past that.”

“Never,” Taehyung promised, and you giggled. To ease the sting of his members teasing him, Jimin aggressively scented you, and you leaned into him to facilitate it.

Taehyung, observing your interaction with the other hybrid, tried not to show his irritation on his face, mostly because he knew it was ridiculous to feel that way. When you’d first come to live with them, the others had been cautious about getting their scents on you, just in case it was something that bothered him, but he’d made sure to assure them that he didn’t mind. After all, all of them were pack. It made sense for them to smell like each other, and it had even comforted him sometimes when you came to him drenched in the scents of his members.

Now that your scent was different, though, he didn’t like it as much when the other members rubbed up against you. It was a shameful, terrible feeling to be possessive over you like that, and he noted somewhat wryly that he could add it to the list. He really hadn’t been a paragon of virtue when it came to you recently.

When the boys started working, you pulled out the book you were currently reading and settled in. By now, you knew how to entertain yourself when at the studio, and tuned them out for the most part. As a result, you didn’t notice the way Taehyung’s attention would drift over to you instead of his members, but Namjoon did.

The older man raised his brow as Taehyung stared at you, sitting on a couch in the corner of the studio, instead of listening to the melody that Yoongi had just been working on. This was uncharacteristic of Taehyung, to say the least, and though as a leader he was somewhat annoyed at Taehyung’s inattention, he was also worried, remembering how strangely the wolf hybrid had acted the other night. He was still watching Taehyung out of his peripheral vision when he saw Taehyung catch himself staring, shake his head and frown.

He followed Taehyung’s gaze to you, wondering what it was that had captured Taehyung’s attention. You seemed unaware of it, turning the page on your book and continuing to read with a soft, relaxed expression, eagerly devouring the page. He couldn’t detect any differences, either – aside from the fact that you’d grown a little and carried yourself differently, you were much the same as you were when they’d left for the army.

Still, there must be some explanation for Taehyung’s sudden change in behavior, and he ran his eyes over your face more closely, watching for any hints.

Unfortunately, Taehyung, looking up from his notes, saw Namjoon staring at you, and before he could stop it, he growled at the wild dog hybrid. A second later, he realized what he’d just done, and shame flooded him. He got up so suddenly that the chair he was sitting in rolled away, bumping against the studio board, and fled the room.

Immediately, you put your book down and got up, ready to follow him to ask what had gotten him so upset, but Namjoon stopped you. “I’ll go talk to him,” he assured you, and looking up at the serious set of his jaw, you nodded, knowing that Taehyung was in good hands.

Namjoon found Taehyung in the restroom, bracing himself against the sinks with his head bowed. Hearing the door open and able to identify his leader by his scent, Taehyung’s hands tightened.

“You doing okay?” Namjoon asked mildly, leaning against the restroom door.

“Go away,” Taehyung grumped without moving.

“Tae, I’m worried about you. You’ve been acting weird since we came back from the military. Tell me what’s going on, please?”

“Nothing’s going on, everything’s fine,” Taehyung denied, his voice becoming increasingly whiny.

“Tae, come on. We’re brothers, you can tell me what’s up.” Namjoon went over to the wolf hybrid and rested his hand on his shoulder.

Resolutely, Taehyung stayed silent.

Left with no other recourse, Namjoon started guessing. “Is it because your heat is coming soon?”

Taehyung’s head shot up, and he stared at Namjoon in the mirror. “My what?”

Namjoon quirked his brow at the younger man. “Your heat?” he prompted. “The one you’ve had once a year for about ten years now?”

Taehyung paled. With all that had been going on with you, he’d totally forgotten about it. Fuck. He was not going to get through this heat alive.

#kim taehyung #taehyung x reader #bts #bts fic #bts hybrid au #hybrid bts #taehyung smut #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #kim namjoon #park jimin #jeon jungkook #bts future au

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ukulelecal · 4 years ago

Text

Bloom - Part Two

The story of flowers.

Pairing: Poet!Luke Hemmings x Female!OC

Warnings: a bit more angst but def more fluff. implied smut. a couple swears probably. hella feelings. mentions of anxiety

Word Count: 6.8k

A/N: here is the second part!! less sad than the first!! lol anyways, i hope you guys love it, there will be one more part after this! reminder that feedback and reblogs are sosososo important to creators x

series masterlist

my masterlist // posted on ao3

*One year later*

Devon’s new school wasn’t all that she had imagined it to be.

Her classes were great. She was learning so much and her professors were very encouraging and helpful. Everything else, however, wasn’t so ideal.

She wasn’t fond of her classmates. Perhaps she was just so used to her old school, but everyone rubbed her the wrong way. She had only found a few friends that she trusted, but she didn’t even see them much. They had attended undergrad at that school, and they already knew everyone. Devon couldn’t quite make her way into the friend group.

She wasn’t a fan of the city, either. It simply didn’t have the vibe or the excitement that home did.

Home. She tried not to use that word to describe where she once lived, but her mind continuously went back to it. She knew exactly why.

That’s where Luke was.

Devon hadn’t heard from him since she moved. She left with a very brief goodbye and good luck wish, but that was it. She held back her tears during the Uber ride to the airport and all through the plane ride.

Luke, now alone in the apartment, broke down as soon as she left. He should have been the one taking her to the airport, kissing her goodbye and promising that everything would be okay. But nothing was okay anymore.

It had been a year since Devon moved, and the now broken up couple was doing a lot better. Devon distracted herself with schoolwork and trying to find her place in her new environment. She took up kickboxing as well as a way to let out her emotions, although the muscles she was developing were a plus as well.

Luke still had the same coping mechanism he always had; writing poetry. He poured his heart and soul into countless poems. They were completely raw, completely honest. He held nothing back. Frankly, they were his best work.

Devon’s first year of grad school officially came to an end. It was as if a weight was lifted off her shoulders. She couldn’t say she was happy there, but she wasn’t there to make friends. She was there to get her master’s, and she wasn’t going to quit. For herself and for her family.

A very unexpected text quickly changed any plans that Devon might have had for the summer.

It was from Luke.

“Hey Devon. I know it’s been a while and I hope grad school is going well. But it's official. My first poetry book is getting published. You probably don’t want to hear from me, and I understand, but you were always the person that believed in me the most. Thank you for that. Truly. I wouldn’t be here without you. I’m having a release party in a few weeks. Nothing big, just close friends and family. It would mean a lot to me if you came.”

Her heart skipped a beat as soon as she saw his name flash across her screen. Not a single word had been exchanged between them in the past year. A part of Devon had been wishing that he would reach out, even if it was just to say hi and check in. She almost texted him a few times, but something always stopped her.

Hearing from him after so long brought an array of emotions, but the one that overwhelmed her the most was pride.

Devon knew how much this meant to him. He opened up to her about it on their very first date freshman year. She remembered sitting across from him at the coffee shop on campus, and the way his eyes lit up as he talked about releasing a book. She found his passion admirable, and she had every faith in him that he would succeed. She was his biggest supporter through the years; she was there to comfort him when he got rejected and help him through his bouts of writer’s block. He always told her that she was his biggest inspiration. Most of his poems ended up being about her in some capacity.

Despite everything that happened between, Devon couldn’t fathom missing this momentous time in his life.

With a deep breath, she typed out a reply.

“I would love to come. It means a lot that you thought of me.”

The weeks leading up to the party were utterly nerve wracking, for both Devon and Luke.

It took Luke a few days to work up the courage to invite Devon. He was scared she hated him and wouldn’t care to come, that she would be appalled at him thinking even for a second that she might want to see him again. It took a lot of convincing from Ashton, a college friend that he invited to move into the apartment once Luke realized he couldn’t afford the rent on his own and that he couldn’t stand being in the apartment by himself, but he did it. Luke wasn’t sure he breathed at all in the minutes it took her to respond.

Now that she was officially attending, it left the two to question what seeing each other would be like after a year apart. Would it be awkward? Would they end up having another argument and cause more pain? Would they be unrecognizable to each other?

The uncertainty was painstaking, but Devon reminded herself that she was there to support Luke, and Luke reminded himself that he would have given up a long time ago if it weren’t for Devon.

The time finally came for the release party. They both hardly slept the night before. Luke was alone in the bed that he used to share with the woman he hadn’t seen in a year, while she laid in a hotel bed just blocks away. Things felt different knowing that they weren’t hundreds of miles away anymore, and the next day they would see each other.

Devon pandered around her hotel room all day, doing her best to distract herself. She scrolled through every channel on the television, but nothing kept her attention. She did a workout, but every song on her workout playlist managed to remind her of Luke in some way.

They day dragged on until it was finally time for Devon to get ready. She played calming music in the shower to slow her heart rate and took her time doing her hair and makeup. It took some effort to steady her hands, but she got the job done.

Luke had been able to keep himself busy all day. A couple of his friends, Calum and Michael, shared a flat that was decently bigger than Luke’s apartment, and graciously offered to host the party there. Him and Ashton went over there early to make sure the place was clean and that all the food and drinks were ready.

Once guests started arriving, the nerves came back in full force.

He could only hope that he was really ready to see Devon.

For her, the Uber ride to the address Luke gave her hit every single red light. She bounced her leg in the back seat, unsure if she was thankful for the longer ride or if she hated it. On one hand, it gave her more time to prepare herself. However, every passing second made her nervousness increase.

Time stopped when the car parked in front of the flat.

She stared at it for a moment, the fact that Luke was just inside making her fingers tremble.

She didn’t realize she was still sitting there until the driver asked her if she was okay. She quickly thanked him and climbed out of the car.

Devon slowly made her way up the walkway, reminding herself with each step that this was a huge deal for Luke. His dreams were finally coming true. He had expressed to her that he credited her in part for his success. He must not have harbored any major negative feelings against her, otherwise she wouldn’t have been invited.

She almost felt a sense of calm as she reached the front door.

She slowly pushed it open, Luke having told her it would be unlocked and she could let herself in. Once inside, she didn’t see him right away. She recognized some friends from her undergraduate days, but nobody seemed to notice her right away.

A tall figure came out from the kitchen, and Devon had to do a double take.

Luke had certainly grown in their year apart.

His curls were shorter in the back and longer on top, and it looked like they had been dyed at some point. He opted for a pair of glasses instead of contacts, and he had a beard. She had never seen him with more than some stubble. He had on a forest green sweater that she always said was her favorite; she wondered if he had worn it on purpose. She couldn’t blame him if he did, considering she was wearing the long sleeved, yellow floral dress that Luke always said he loved on her.

He looked completely different, but at the same time, he was still her Luke.

All of her anxieties melted away the second he looked at her.

“Devon.”

It felt so natural. It was as if all of the pain that came from the last time they saw each other had gone away. They both knew in the back of their minds there wasn’t any bad blood between them, as much as their breakup hurt. Neither had exactly done anything wrong.

“You made it,” he continued through a deep breath.

“You know I wouldn’t miss this for the world, Lu.”

Devon looked the same. Her hair was a little longer than the last time he saw her, and he could tell that she had put on some muscle from the way she filled out her dress a little more. She looked good, healthy.

Luke silently thanked whoever was listening that she seemed alright, at least physically. He could acknowledge that he went into a bit of a downward spiral in terms of taking care of himself when she left. He hardly slept and completely shut himself out from everyone that reached out to him. Ashton moving in helped, but certain days made it bad again, like when their anniversary and Devon’s birthday passed. He didn’t want the same for her. He wanted her to do better than him.

Devon had her bad days too. She did better at the beginning when she had so much on her plate, but once things settled down, she was a wreck for a while, not much different than what Luke was like.

He hesitated only a moment before taking Devon into his arms. He prepared himself for her to pull away, but she did quite the opposite. She melted into him, cheek resting against the soft material of his sweater.

Devon remembered all the times she needed a hug. Whenever she had a bad day or was stressed out over school or simply just wanted to be held, Luke was always there. He would mumble a soft assurance under his breath as he took her into his arms, holding her tight as if she’d be gone forever if he let go. He would whisper whatever it was she needed to hear at the moment, although sometimes it was nothing at all.

She didn’t realize how badly she needed this one.

“I’m so glad you’re here, Dev,” Luke whispered into her hair. He could smell the same coconut shampoo she always used and the warm, sweet perfume she always wore. It brought a sense of comfort and familiarity.

“I’m glad to be here. I...I really missed you, Luke.”

The confession felt good. She tried to deny the fact that she missed him, but seeing him again, she realized how much she really had.

“I missed you too.”

Luke pulled away from the hug and kept his hands on Devon’s shoulders. The same blue eyes met the same brown ones. The ghosts of smiles tugged at their corners of their lips. Every worry they had about seeing each other had gone away.

“I want to say congratulations on your book,” Devon mumbled, fiddling with the small clutch she brought. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you,” he responded, a slight blush creeping up his cheeks. “I have to say, I-”

His sentence got caught off by a shout of his name from an arriving guest. He sighed and sent Devon an apologetic look. There was a lot that needed to be said, so much that needed to be talked about, but they knew that this wasn’t the time or place to do so.

“It’s fine, go on. We’ll catch up later, bub-” she cut herself off, the pet name she called him so often about to slip from her lips so naturally. “Okay?”

Luke sighed sadly but gave her a smile. He understood why she stopped herself, but God, he would have loved to hear her call him that again.

“Okay. See you in a bit, Dev.”

Luke slowly walked away to greet the new arrivals while Devon wandered off to find people she knew. She came across her good friends from undergrad - mutual between her and Luke - who thankfully seemed excited to see her. They made small talk and asked about grad school before easing into questions about Luke. She should have expected it, but she hadn’t talked much about the breakup since it first happened. It was easy to simply not mention it to her grad school group and they wouldn’t know the difference, but these were the girls that she called sobbing at random times during the day when she needed to talk. It was natural that they were curious.

“Did you two talk at all while you were gone?” One asked, and Devon shook her head.

“No,” she sighed. “I think that was best, though.”

Devon’s eyes trailed to the right. Luke was talking to some family members, laughing. A small grin tugged at the corners of her lips. His laugh was musical and contagious. She always felt proud of herself when she made him laugh. Not that it was a difficult task; he loved to laugh. For Devon, getting to hear the noise was like a gift.

“Dev!”

She snapped her gaze back to her friends. Their expressions were a mixture of smug and concerned. It was obvious that Devon hadn’t gotten over Luke in the past year. She still looked at him the same way she always did. They were still concerned that she would get her heart broken again.

“You still love him, don’t you?”

Devon glanced over at him one more time. She tried to convince herself that she didn’t. She almost threw away her shoebox of poems just to prove it to herself, but she couldn’t do it. It would always be him.

“Of course I do.”

…

The rest of the night, Luke and Devon didn’t speak. They weren’t avoiding each other, but the weight of the conversation they needed to have required the crowd to go away and the festivities to die down before it could happen. They exchanged glances and small smiles, saving the talking for later.

Devon purposely hung back as the crowd startled to trickle out the door. Luke had made a small speech thanking everyone for coming and celebrating with him. Everyone took it as the hint that the party was over. Deciding to help out while she waited, Devon busied herself cleaning up a bit in the kitchen.

Footsteps caught her attention, but they didn’t belong to who she figured they did. Instead of seeing Luke, she saw Ashton. He was Luke’s best friend, and while him and Devon never got super close, she still considered him a friend.

“Hey, Dev,” Ashton greeted with a grin, opening his arms for a hug that she gladly accepted.

“Hi, Ash. How have you been?”

“Good. Just working,” he chuckled as he pulled away from the hug. “You? How’s grad school?”

“It’s pretty good.” Good if he asked about her academics and not her social life, that is.

“That’s good.”

Ashton leaned against the counter across from her, shooting her a look. She raised her eyebrows in expectation.

“Luke’s been freaking out, you know,” Ashton mumbled, sticking his hands in his pockets. “About seeing you.”

Devon sighed and ran a hand through her hair. Somehow, knowing that he was nervous too was comforting.

“Glad it wasn’t just me.”

“He really missed you. I’m sure he’ll tell you all this himself, but in case you don’t believe him, take it from me. He missed you so, so much.”

Devon couldn’t help but smile a little. It was good to hear it from someone else.

“I missed him too. A lot.”

Before Ashton could reply, Luke stepped into the kitchen, eyes flickering back and forth between his best friend and his ex girlfriend. Words got caught in Devon and Luke’s throats, neither of them sure what to say.

“I guess that’s my cue to get out,” Ashton joked, breaking the awkward silence. “Let me know when you’re ready to go home, Luke.”

The man walked out of the kitchen to help Calum and Michael clean up in the living room while Devon turned to look at Luke with furrowed eyebrows.

“Home?” She questioned.

“Ashton moved into the apartment a little while after you left,” Luke admitted, scratching the back of his neck. He took Ashton’s spot against the counter. “I needed a roommate to help with the rent.”

He left out the fact that being alone in there only reminded him that she was gone and he needed someone to keep him company.

Devon nodded in understanding, but felt another twinge of guilt. She hadn’t considered that she was leaving the financial burden onto him. Thankfully Ashton was there.

“How was your night?” Devon asked genuinely. The party was to celebrate his success, and she genuinely hoped he enjoyed it.

“It was really great.” Luke sent her a thankful grin. “I know I said it before, but it really means a lot to me that you’re here. I was afraid you wouldn’t want to come.”

“This is everything you’ve ever wanted. After everything we’ve been through, I would never miss this moment in your life.”

Devon sent him a sad smile that he returned. There was still so much that needed to be said, so much to discuss. A tension hung between them, but not one of anxiety or dread. It was desperation and desire. A yearning for what they once had.

“We need to talk, Dev,” Luke whispered what they were both thinking. “Like, really talk.”

“I know we do.” She glanced at the clock on the wall beside his head. “But it’s getting late. My flight back isn’t until Monday. Maybe we can meet up tomorrow, if you’re free? Get lunch?”

Luke nodded in agreement. It would be best if they both got some sleep and recharged before talking seriously.

“That sounds good.” Luke turned to look at the clock as well and laughed. “I know it’s past your bedtime.”

Devon rolled her eyes playfully. She was the “go to bed early, wake up early” type, while Luke was the opposite.

“Exactly. I need my beauty sleep.”

“Boy, do I know it.”

The two laughed together, for the first time in a long time. It felt so right.

“I should head back then,” Devon announced, reaching behind to grab her clutch that she had set on the counter. “Let me just call an Uber and I’ll be out of here.”

“Don’t worry about that. Ash and I came together, he’ll drive you back. Where are you staying?”

Not one to turn down a free ride, Devon rattled off the name of her hotel. Luke led her to the living room to get Ashton and say goodbye to Calum and Michael. Luke thanked them again for letting him have the party at their place before they were out the door and piled in Ashton’s car. Luke took shotgun while Devon slipped into the back.

The ride to the hotel was quiet. Only Ashton’s soft indie music and the sound of other cars filled the car. Shortly, Ashton pulled to a stop in front of Devon’s hotel. Luke turned around in his seat to face her.

“Thanks again for coming, Dev,” he mumbled softly, a grin on his face.

“Thanks for inviting me. And thanks for the ride, Ashton.” He nodded in acknowledgement before she turned her gaze back to Luke. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Tomorrow. Who knows what tomorrow would bring?

“See you tomorrow.”

Devon climbed out of the car and headed towards the doors, sparing one last glance and a wave before heading inside. Luke watched as she walked in, a small sigh escaping his lips. He turned his head to see Ashton with a smirk on his face.

“What?” Luke questioned.

“You still love her, don’t you, mate?”

Luke sighed again, glancing back towards the doors. Devon was already out of sight, probably in the elevator already. He knew exactly what she was going to do when she got to her room. She would kick off her shoes and then take her makeup off. She’d go through her night time skin care routine, put her hair in a bun with a silk scrunchie, and finally change into her pajamas, which were usually just a big t-shirt and panties. She would probably spend some time reading or watching cooking videos on TikTok before going to bed.

“Of course I do.”

…

Devon swiped one last bit of lip gloss across her lips when Luke texted her that he was outside. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed her purse and phone before heading downstairs to meet him.

The anxiety was coming back. Seeing Luke was one thing, but having a full on conversation was another. It didn’t help that the conversation would surely lead to the topic of their relationship. Their breakup.

Luke was feeling similarly. He had paced around the apartment all morning until Ashton gave him a pep talk. He reminded him that if they didn’t talk, Devon would just leave again and nothing would change. Nothing would get fixed.

The sound of a creaky car door opening snapped Luke from his thoughts, looking up to see Devon climbing in. He sent her a smile.

“Hey, Dev.”

“Hey, Luke. Bertha’s still kicking, I see?” Devon joked as she buckled her seatbelt. She knew that Luke wasn’t going to get rid of his beloved Prius until absolutely necessary, but the fact that the car still functioned at all was shocking.

“I think it might be her time soon, but for now, she gets me where I need to go.”

Bertha survived the drive to the small diner that Devon and Luke agreed on, albeit the radio cut out a few times. It was a new place and Luke had been wanting to try it. A part of Devon wondered if he really wanted to try it or if he just didn’t want to take her to one of the places that they frequented when they were together. Frankly, she wouldn’t have wanted to go to one of their old spots either. It would have felt too odd.

Once inside and seated, a waitress came to take coffee orders before scurrying away.

“Tell me about grad school,” Luke began, saving the more serious topics of conversation for later. It was best to start off casual and simply catch up on everything that had happened in the past year.

“It’s alright,” Devon sighed. She would have fibbed, but she felt no need to lie to Luke. “My classes are great. I’ve learned so much and my professors are awesome. It’s just…”

She trailed off, unsure how to put her thoughts into words without sounding pathetic. She didn’t want Luke to judge her.

“What?” He pressed gently, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“It’s the other students, I guess. Everyone at our school was so great, but the people there are just not so friendly. And most of the other grad students did undergrad there, so I couldn’t really fit my way into a friend group. And there’s just not as much to do in the city as there is here,” she explained, her hands occupying themselves with the napkin in her lap.

She locked eyes with Luke, waiting for his response. He could have used it against her. He could have guilt tripped her for leaving and then not being happy. But Luke would never do that and Devon knew it.

“Well that’s not good,” he mumbled sincerely. “I’m sorry, Dev.”

He truly did feel bad. Every day while Devon was gone, he thought about her. He hoped she was having a good day and that her education was going well. It pained him to think that she wasn’t having a great time.

“It’s okay. I mean, I’m there for my master’s, not to make friends.” The waitress came back with their drinks and took their lunch orders. “Anyways, tell me about your book! What happened with the publishers and everything?”

The fact that Devon’s grad school wasn’t everything that she had imagined was still bothering him but Luke went along, knowing she wouldn’t want to talk about it.

“I sent another draft to one of the ones that was interested before, a while after you left. He said he liked the majority of it but wanted a few different ones. It took me a while to figure out what he wanted, but eventually I got it,” he rambled. “I’m really happy with it.”

“I’m glad,” she replied, heart swelling with pride. “When does it come out?”

“Next week.”

Devon hummed in acknowledgement, already making a mental note to pick up a copy for herself.

“How about work?” She questioned after a sip of her cappuccino.

“You’ll never believe it,” Luke chuckled. “I got promoted to a manager position.”

“Really? It’s about time!”

Devon and Luke had a running joke about Luke’s job. He had been there the longest other than the owner, an old woman who still moved like a teenager. She always hung a promotion over his head, suggesting it but never following through. Luke knew she was planning on giving it to him eventually. It was just a matter of time until she actually did, and the two would always make jokes about it.

They made small talk until their food came, causing the duo to fall into silence. Meaningless conversation about the weather could only last so long until what really needed to be talked about came out.

Soup and sandwiches didn’t last long enough. Their plates were cleared and there was no point in stalling anymore.

“I think we fucked up.”

Luke’s statement was unsugarcoated. He couldn't say for sure how Devon felt, but every day throughout the past year, Luke felt like he was making a mistake. Everyone around them was shocked at the news of their breakup; if there were any college sweethearts that would actually last, it would be them. That certainly didn’t help Luke’s pain when everyone else knew it was a mistake too.

Devon felt tears burn the back of her eyes as she nodded softly. He was right. Perhaps it was best at the time, but they couldn’t do another year of being apart.

“I think we did.”

Her voice broke, taking a deep breath to calm herself down and not cry in the restaurant.

“Hey,” Luke cooed soothingly, noticing the tears and reaching across the table for her hand. As his hand encased hers, at that moment, everything felt like it was going to be okay. “Maybe we should go somewhere more private.”

Luke paid the check and made their way back to Bertha. The need for privacy left them with two options; Devon’s hotel room or the apartment.

“Maybe we could go to my hotel room,” Devon suggested. “That way we won’t bother Ashton.”

That was only part of the reason. Devon wasn’t sure how she would feel if she stepped into her old home in the current state of their relationship. All of the memories her and Luke had would come flooding back. The hotel room was a neutral place without connection to what once was.

Luke agreed and drove to the location he remembered from the night before. The elevator ride up to Devon’s room was heavily silent, hands brushing against each other but never interlocking. The sound of the door shutting behind them once in the room was thunderous, the sound signifying that there was absolutely nothing between them and the inevitable anymore.

They stood in the middle of the room for a moment, looking anywhere but each other. There was no good way to start the conversation. There was no easy way to talk about a painful breakup that led to a year apart, then being reunited.

Without the right words in mind, Devon threw herself at Luke. She wrapped her arms tight around his middle and buried her head into his chest. Luke returned the gesture, holding her as close as he could. The hug said more than what either of them could put into words.

It wasn’t until a few minutes that Devon finally found something to say.

“I can’t keep doing this, Lu,” she whispered shakily. “I can’t keep missing you like this.”

“This is all my fault, Dev. I was the one who didn’t think we could do it. Fuck, honey, I’m so sorry.”

Devon surely didn’t think it was his fault. He had every right to be upset that she was moving so far away, and he had every right to be scared of what the distance would do to their relationship. She felt the same way. They broke up to spare themselves the pain of long distance. It hadn’t taken long for them to realize that the pain of being broken up was much, much worse.

As much as she tried to push the thoughts away, Devon couldn’t help thinking about how if she hadn’t left, this wouldn’t have happened. She knew that she did nothing wrong and that her education was just as important, but she had never intended to pursue it in expense of her relationship.

“This isn’t your fault. It was both of us. We were just saving ourselves from the pain. Besides, I was the one that left-”

“No,” Luke cut her off, glancing down at her. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for this. You did absolutely nothing wrong.”

Devon lifted her head up to meet his gaze. His face was serious but his eyes were completely sincere. She had always feared that he would hold a grudge against her for leaving. One look into the gorgeous blue eyes that she fell in love with told her that he didn’t.

“I never want you to blame this on you going to grad school. I want you to know that I completely support your decision and all your aspirations, honey. I will never hold that against you.”

Tears brimmed Devon’s eyes again, but these weren’t tears of pain. They were of love and adoration. Luke was the most amazing man she had ever known. He had a heart of gold and was one hell of a poet. She had never felt so loved as she felt by him.

“Please tell me this isn’t over, Luke,” she whispered, hands moving to cup his bearded cheeks. A single tear slipped down the soft skin of Devon’s cheek. “I love you. I never stopped. Please tell me there can be an us again.”

Luke wasn’t sure when he started crying, but a sudden wetness on his cheek alerted him of the act. His hands tugged Devon’s waist to bring her closer, noses brushing touching and breath mingling. They could hardly remember the last time they had been that close, the last time they felt love so intensely.

“I’ve wanted us back since that day a year ago. I love you more than anything, Devon. Always have, always will.”

For the first time in over a year, Luke and Devon’s lips connected in a kiss. It was nothing short of passionate and heavy. The love they hadn’t been able to express for so long was rising to the surface, coming out in the form of mumbled words, bruising kisses and desperate touches.

Frantic fingers worked the buttons of Devon’s flannel, slowly pushing her backwards until the back of her knees hit the edge of the bed. The offending item was discarded to the floor and the newly reunited couple crawled onto the bed. Devon shivered under Luke, a reaction caused by a mixture of the cool sheets against her bare back and his lips on her neck, his beard providing a new sensation that she hadn’t felt before.

The past year was difficult. If they could go back in time and fix it, they would jump on the opportunity without a second thought. But just maybe, it made them stronger. Maybe they needed to begin to wilt in order for them to bloom.

…

“What do we do now?”

Devon curled closer to Luke as a crisp breeze cut through the darkening evening. He sighed and wrapped the blanket tighter around them.

“I’m not sure.”

The couple sat in the trunk of Luke’s car with the door popped open, parked at a lookout point that overlooked the city. It was something they used to do all the time in college. It was comforting to return to their old traditions, knowing that they had fixed what they broke.

It was Sunday evening, the day before Devon flew back to her grad school city. They may have gotten back together, but they were still faced with the same problem as when they broke up. Devon still had a whole year of grad school left, miles away.

“I’m not sure I want to go back,” Devon admitted, eyes fixed on the city lights. Luke snapped his head to look at her, eyebrows furrowed.

“What do you mean? Are you saying you don’t want to finish your degree?”

Luke would never forgive himself if she gave up her master’s degree because of him. He didn’t want the distance either, but he could never hold her back from her dreams.

“No, no, I want to finish. I just...I wasn’t happy in that city. This is my home. I’m happy here,” she explained. She tore her eyes away from the view in favor of looking at her boyfriend. “With you.”

Luke dipped his head down, pressing a kiss to her temple. Devon leaned into the affection that she had missed so much.

“It’s up to you, honey. I don’t want to hold you back. Just know that if you do stay there, I’m going to really try this time. I promise we’ll make it work, and I’ll be here for you no matter what.”

Devon grinned at his words. She didn’t realize how much she needed to hear that; that the past wouldn’t repeat itself. However, she didn’t want to put either of them through the suffering of a long distance relationship when she didn’t even want to be away.

“I appreciate that, bubs. But I just can’t do that to us after everything we’ve been through.” She thought for a moment, trying to decipher the best course of action. “Maybe I could finish online.”

Luke nodded in acknowledgement; it was a good compromise. Devon got to finish her degree at the school with the best program, and she didn’t have to be so far away. It benefitted Luke as well, not just her. However, he didn’t want to sway her either way.

“If that’s what you want, honey. This is your decision.”

He gave her shoulders a squeeze as she thought it over. The only sounds to be heard were the gentle hum of the city below them and the cold breeze that ruffled the trees. It was so familiar. They had spent countless nights like this, simply enjoying each other’s company and rewinding from hectic college life. Luke had to remind himself that they weren’t undergraduate students anymore; Devon was in grad school and he was a published poet.

It was baffling how everything felt like it had gone back to the way it was, yet things were actually so very different.

“That’s what I want,” Devon announced with confidence after a few moments of pondering. “I want to stay here.”

Matching lovesick grins spread across their faces as they locked eyes. She scooted closer to Luke, if that was even possible, nudging her nose against his.

“You’re sure?” He verified, eyes fluttering closed.

“So very sure.”

He chuckled lowly before closing the gap. The air between them was finally clear. Their relationship was fixed and they would still be together. No more pain and suffering.

Devon rested her head on Luke’s shoulder when the kiss broke, breathing out a content sigh. They enjoyed the silence for a moment before Devon piped up with a question.

“Can I move back into the apartment?”

“Of course you can,” Luke chuckled. “That’s our place. Why couldn’t you?”

“What about Ashton?”

“He understands our situation, babe. He saw this coming. He already asked Calum and Michael if he could take the extra bedroom at their flat if it came to this, and they agreed. As long as you’re fine with living with him for a little while until he moves out, then he’s fine with it too.”

Devon let out a breathy laugh, nodding in understanding.

“I mean, I’ll still have to go back to my apartment out there for a bit to get my stuff.” She looked up at Luke with a hopeful glint in her eye. “Do you think you could come with and help? It’s alright if you can’t.”

“I can come, honey. I’ll see if I can fly out with you tomorrow, but if not I can come a couple days later, so you don’t have to change yours.” A smirk spread across his face before continuing. “Or we could just wait to go together and stay here for another few days. You know, catch up a little more.”

Devon laughed and playfully rolled her eyes, nudging his shoulder.

“What a way with words you have, Hemmings. No wonder you’re a poet.”

“Speaking of poetry, I have something for you.”

Luke pressed a swift kiss to Devon’s cheek before hopping out of the trunk. He opened the door to the back seat and rifled around for a moment, then returning to face Devon. He removed his hand from behind his back, holding it out to her.

“For you.”

Devon took the item from his hand curiously. It only took a moment for her to realize what it was.

It was a book titled The Life of a Flower. The cover was a stunning photo of two orchids side by side, and Luke’s name was printed across the bottom.

His first poetry book.

“You’re the first person to get a copy,” he mumbled sheepishly, breaking Devon from her trance of staring at it. She couldn’t help the tears of pride that welled in her eyes. If seeing the actual, physical book in person was such an emotional moment for her, she couldn’t even imagine how Luke must have felt when he saw it for the first time.

“This is incredible, Luke,” she whispered, smiling despite her tears. “I’m so proud of you, bubs, so fucking proud.”

Devon dropped the blanket from her shoulders and hopped down from the trunk. Her arms found their way around his neck while his found her waist. Pride was an understatement. She had been there every step of the way, and seeing his dreams finally come to life was a wonderful sight to see.

“Thank you, Devon,” Luke whispered into her hair. “For being my biggest supporter. I wouldn’t be here without you.”

“It’s not me, Lu,” she mumbled in response, tilting her head up to look at him. “You have a gift. Your writing got you here, not me.”

“I would have given up on writing a long time ago if I didn’t have you. You give me an endless amount of inspiration that I never had before. A poet’s words are meaningless if his muse isn’t worth writing about.”

“Damn. William Shakespeare has nothing on you,” she joked although she was absolutely melting on the inside. Luke groaned playfully.

“You always ruin the moment. Anyway, look at the first pages.”

Devon removed her arms from his neck to flip through, skipping past the title page, copyright and table of contents until she found what he was talking about. She found a dedications page that only made her tear up again, reading:

“For Devon. You’ll always be my orchid.”

66 notes · View notes

yeoldontknow · 4 years ago

Text

The Edge of Summer

Author’s Note: happy birthday @kyungseokie !! this has been sitting in my wips since january when i attempted to write this for his birthday. and that...came and went like a lightning bolt so here we are. im finally tossing this into the wild! wanted this up an entire hour ago but my internet died so T~T HAPPY BIRTHDAY I LUV U! Pairing: Kyungsoo x Reader (oc; female) Universe: this is an installment to the Did You See universe however Kyungsoo does not have a full story. this will be the only story centering on him | you do not need to read the other stories to understand, enjoy, or appreciate this one Genre: friends to lovers; fluff; romance; angst; au Summary: As summer comes to a close, your friends make the annual trek to the lake house for one last hurrah. You’ve done this before - countless times, but this year Baekhyun brings his new girlfriend along with him and this, of course, means some plans have to change. You just have no idea how much will change by the end of the trip. Rating: PG-13 Warnings: some strong language; a lot of lust; baekhyun being the worst wingman to exist; it gets pretty spicy by the end but like..only if you squint? just playing it safe yall Word Count: 13.1K

It is only when Kyungsoo’s hand falls delicately into his lap, fingers grazing your thigh with the aimless of touch of nonchalance that you decide:

If you make it out alive, you are going to kill Baekhyun.

Three hours into the road trip, and you think the conviction of this decision carries with it the bitterness of gunpowder and the relief of satisfaction, two distinct feelings entirely befitting the situation you have found yourself in. A five hour journey is long enough on its own, time blurring seamlessly around you in the close confines of a car - but, when pressed against Kyungsoo like this, against the strong muscles of his arms and thighs, feeling the heat of his warm skin radiating into yours, five hours is centuries of pining. These hours are too long for anyone to survive, the weight of yearning compressing your lungs into phantoms of their former glory, breath too quiet, and too slow, afraid of disrupting the fragile pretense of peace.

Being this close to him, this close to the embodiment of your pining, carries the same impact in your bones as a cataclysm, and so you grimace in dismay, silently aware that you might not even live to make good on your silent promise. Baekhyun will live another day and you will wither amongst the remainder of your desire, buried with yet another promise you failed to keep.

Somewhere in an alternate universe, you are happy, and this happiness comes easily. In a different life, you are comfortable, riding in Chanyeol’s car with him, his girlfriend, and Yixing, listening to the playlist Chanyeol had enthusiastically curated for the journey. You would be laughing, talking, teasing - or, perhaps, none of those things, instead luxuriating the jovial warmth that always seems to bloom in their company, the kind that overtakes you without warning, mind unfocused and hazy with thoughts of freedom.

Instead, your back presses into the middle seat of Junmyeon’s old car, knees and thighs aching with the effort of making yourself small between Kyungsoo and Yixing. Glancing to your right, you eye Yixing’s placidly neutral expression, his unfazed smile as he teases Sehun, reaching forward to ruffle his hair from behind the seat. Briefly, you envy him, his loud laugh and the way things are always uncomplicated for him - the way he always gives over out of love, even if he has the briefest moments of internal protest.

At 8AM, Baekhyun insisted he bring his new fling on this vacation. It was important, he said, his eyes pleading with you and Yixing, the puppy dog expression you'd grown used to fixed securely in his cheeks and pout. Chanyeol’s car would be the couples car, and so it was important he be there to set the mood. Yixing had eyed him amicably, biting the inside of his cheek with an endeared sense of amusement, complaining only because the plush seats of Chanyeol’s car were far more comfortable and because it would insight a brief riot in Baekhyun that served only to amuse him further.

And he conceded almost immediately, an ever supportive wingman, winking at Baekhyun before excusing himself to gather his things.

You, however, protested valiantly, arms crossed over your chest and heart unmoved. Baekhyun pleaded, promised french fry dates and to do your dishes for a week - even though he does not live with you, even though you actually enjoy doing your dishes, and, still, you protested, lips pursed and eyebrow cocked in disdain.

But, standing gracefully in the doorway, the sunlight gliding over his shoulders, craving an angle against his jaw you found almost holy, far too magnificent to be human, Kyungsoo laughed. The deep honey chocolate of his tone brought gooseflesh to your skin, teeth biting down on your tongue to keep your spine from trembling; your favourite laugh, and one he so rarely gives only to you. Behind him, Chanyeol’s tall frame lingered by his car, calling for anyone to get in so he could make his departure, and you think Kyungsoo’s bemused, affectionate smile is really what you agreed to.

Hours of his smile, even if it was put out, even if it was a barely there glimmer of fond annoyance, even if it faded almost as quickly as it came - this is what you agreed to.

Even if it meant letting your own heart break, and mend, and shatter once more, chest tight with the burden of proximity.

‘I can feel you looking at me,’ he mumbles, just softly enough that only you can hear the dulcet nature of his voice, teasing and sharp.

Shifting beneath your gaze, his arm nudges gently into yours, soft and supple and smooth, the cotton of his white shirt reduced to little more than rough muslin in comparison. He keeps his head turned as he looks out the window, one hand in his lap while the other holds his chin in its palm, trees and grass streaking past beneath an endless expanse of blue sky. Sunlight pours through the window onto him, casting shadows along his jaw and cheeks that somehow make the curvature of his lips ever more pronounced in profile.

Around you both, conversations live and die, the rippling cadence of Yixing’s laugh losing its edges as you continue to stare, unblinking, at the hard edge of Kyungsoo’s jaw.

‘Is there something you want?’ At this, he directs his attention to you, your dry mouth and unwavering gaze, hand still cradling his chin as he regards you expectantly.

His eyes move over you slowly, taking their time getting acquainted with your features in this light. You feel him where you never feel anyone - all over you, yet ephemeral and nowhere at all, this kind of touching a mystery that runs deep. In a single moment, he is both above and beneath you, walking over the map of your skin and treading just below the surface, the blood in your veins rushing to your heart in celebration. The air in the small car becomes thin, lungs tight and breath constricted. Your hands curl into fists, pressing nails into the muscle of your mount of Venus, but it is not in frustration or fear, rather, instead, the only way you know how to suppress this insurmountable adoration.

By stopping the surrender before it starts, you do not even have the choice to give in.

Perhaps, in the same life in which you are riding in Chanyeol’s car you are also bold, brave enough to give him the best words, the most beautiful words, the ones you keep perpetually beneath your tongue, waiting. How would he look in the aftermath of honesty? What smile would you be given? Would you even survive? You’re unsure, the aspects of such a reality hidden from you now, and so you swallow thickly, giving moisture to your voice to ensure you can speak, even if it is not entirely brave.

‘You’re blocking the window,’ you lie, surprised that you sound so confident, so calm, when the border between your bodies has been so ruefully challenged.

Eyes squeezing closed, they press into crescent moons as his cheeks rise up along the bones, and Kyungsoo laughs, genuinely amused by the absurdity of your statement. So unlike the booming force of Chanyeol’s laugh or the high pitched delight of Yixing’s, Kyungsoo’s low and deep giggle is a thunderclap in the center of your chest, an endless roll of electric pleasure along your nerves. The force of it has him jostling into your side, shoulders vibrating through the humor, and you feel yourself bristle, wholly unprepared. This moment of contact brings with it the absence of thought, the absence of protest, running far deeper than you imagined it could. In a single moment, your longing threatens to unmake you, wanting more of his pleasure, more of his joy, certain nothing is as sacred or magical as this.

Offering you a sardonic, yet amicable smile, he leans back into the seat, making himself as small as possible to take up the least amount of space. Tucking his arms into his sides, he moves away from the window entirely, and releases a hiss of breath through his nose. One eyebrow cocked in question, he pouts, the fullness of his bottom lip sticking out childishly.

‘Is this better?’ he asks through grit teeth, though his smile is tucked in the corner of his lips as a secret; dawn just about to break over the warm glow of his skin.

In this position, his shirt becomes constricted and stretched over his chest, shoulders, and abdomen, revealing the deep contours of his torso. The mid-morning sun casts him in gold, making a home of the pores of his skin and revealing amber flecks in the chocolate of his eyes. Immediately, your tongue becomes heavy, the taste of light filling your mouth, the taste of him and the heat of your unbridled wanting. Even with the smallness of space he has created, gaps between your bodies revealed where he has since retreated, the warmth between you both is a fire that refuses to die, and, in the aftermath of his simple question, you feel yourself flush.

‘Yes, much,’ you nod, hoping your expression is cordial and unmoved. Because it is true. You find you enjoy this view far more than the one before. ‘Now, if only you can stay like that for two more hours.’

Once more he laughs, enjoying your teasing banter as he relaxes into his previous position. All over again he relaxes into you, comfortable and content, strong muscles of his thighs vibrating into your legs as the car bounces over a bump on the highway. It frustrates you how swiftly the butterflies in your stomach wander into your heart as you watch him, stuttering in its rhythm as a stubborn reminder there is no escape, no fail safe to liberate you from this craving. If anything, the closeness you must endure over the length of this trip is only furthering your desire to shorten the ever present distance between your hearts.

‘Why did you give Baekhyun such a hard time this morning?’

His question interrupts your thoughts, words soft yet his tone carries with it a deceptive bite.

Narrowing your brow, you almost snort in surprise. ‘Because it’s ridiculous. Changing everything around at the last minute,’ you explain incredulously. ‘It’s ridiculous.’ Settling back against the hardness of the middle seat, you stare straight ahead, casting your unfocused gaze out beyond the windshield. ‘I can’t believe you’re even asking, as if you wouldn’t do the same.’

In the years you have known him, there has never been a moment where he allowed Baekhyun to get away with anything - not least without an argument or some form of protest. Moving Kyungsoo from one opinion to the next requires a fair amount of convincing and explaining, and, usually, results in his profound frustration until he gives over just to end the conversation. This morning, Kyungsoo said nothing, and his laugh, his smile, and his acquiescence is more out of place than your childish protesting.

Chuckling, he turns back to the window beside him, nodding slightly. ‘You’re not wrong,’ he muses in agreement.

Silence befalls you both, one that does not contain walls or barriers but is gratified. Kyungsoo comfortably nestles into his position, ready to maintain this pose for several more hours, and you turn to look at him, bewildered.

‘That’s it?’ He seems both completely satisfied with your answer and disinterested in continuing the conversation, and your mind races with a confusion so thick you think your hands could break it. ‘That’s all you wanted out of that?’

Tossing you a placid smile, he nods once more. ‘That’s it.’

Searching his face for answers, you translate his words over and over, breaking them down into their smallest pieces to grasp at what lies beneath. ‘Did you ask just to get a rise out of me?’

He keeps his eyes on the world outside, basking in the gold of daylight. It refuses to let him go, the sun, like always, pretending it is you.

‘Maybe so.’

It’s after you’ve dropped your bags in your large room, the one with the bay window overlooking the lake, that Kyungsoo asks you to help him make lunch.

You’re not entirely sure where the others have gone, and you find yourself in the open kitchen hugging yourself, looking around the mess for some way to busy your hands. Too many insulated bags and groceries line the counters, the chaos of them inciting a productive sort of stress, the kind that makes you ready to sort and fix, in your veins. Kyungsoo moves around the room with a confident ease, and for a moment you envy him; the answers already seem to live in his actions, not a single moment of question as he clears space and makes room.

Outside, you hear the deep baritone of Chanyeol’s gleeful howl as it heads towards the lake. Baekhyun’s voice follows, higher in pitch but just as eager, and in the silence of the room you hear Kyungsoo chuckling to himself. The smallness of his smile is betrayed by the light in his eyes, his own happiness a private paradise he shares only with those who choose to look.

And even before you had any control over it, before your mind could remind you that you value yourself and your solitude most, you had chosen him. You will always choose him.

‘Do you want to help me cut the vegetables?’

He doesn’t look at you as he asks the question, unloading the set of knives he brought for the week with careful motions. The silver blades seem to gleam in the midday sun, and you recognize them as the ones you bought for his birthday the year previous. He hadn’t asked for them, hadn’t even suggested you buy him anything, but as you passed the culinary shop window, mesmerized by their sharpness, their danger, their promise, you wondered - would they be a present or a plea? An offering of his happiness or yours, a moment of union between you both in which he would feel joy and you would be the cause of such magnificence.

They’re well worn now. Even from where you stand, you can see the streaks along the blades from multiple sharpening sessions, and as he holds them you can see the hidden strength that lives in his hands. His hands, rough and powerful, yet still more fine than sand and warm as maple. You have never told anyone about your admiration for the elegant length of his fingers, the peaks and valleys of his knuckles, and the way they seem to hold you, transfix you, satisfy you simply because they are proof beauty is not a face or a voice, but an art inherent to all things living. You suppose you will never tell anyone, his hands a poem for you alone.

Peering up at you curiously through the length of his lashes, he patiently waits for your answer and, for the second time today, you feel him. He is becoming an invasion, your defenses drawn down over the many hours beside him, the length of your thighs still tingling from his touch, and you are so aware of him the ripeness of this attention causes you to shiver.

‘Why are you asking me?’ you ask softly, taking a few tentative steps towards the island where he stands. Everything about your motions, your words, is careful, tender, mindful that this kind of question is fragile. ‘You never let people help in the kitchen.’

He stills as he lifts his head to appraise you, unabashedly taking you in and holding you under the ferocity of his gaze. Any other man and you would call this entrapment, but you are used to giving him everything, used to his penetrative stare and the way he always, without fail, seems to witness every flawed and contradictory piece you try to keep buried.

‘Because I want you to,’ he says, as if wanting anything is simple.

Aimlessly, you nod at his response, scanning the island counter as you approach with your arms hanging limply at your sides. You’ve surrendered to him without your own permission, but you are not terribly dismayed by this. He asks for help and speaks of wanting as though it’s an easy request, yet the tension at the back of his throat, minimal and almost imperceptible, implies this is something big and bold and frightening for him to say. For as long as you’ve known him, you both have been difficult, anxious, battling yourselves more than you battle the world around you, and so you do not comment on this ask - do not comment on the emotion of it - because you could still be wrong, and he could still take it back.

‘Aren’t you the one with the chef’s license?’ you tease, coming to stand beside him, unloading the food and organizing them into piles to be moved to their respective cupboards or shelves. ‘Wouldn’t my peasant hands ruin your julienne?’

‘Har har.’ The sound of his sarcastic laugh makes you blush, looking over your shoulder as you tuck unneeded cold things into the refrigerator. ‘And no,’ he continues once you’re beside him again, ‘I don’t need things to look pretty today, I just need them to taste good.’

Handing you a knife that fits perfectly in the palm of your outstretched hand, your eyes meet for a moment that is long enough to generate a spark. It blossoms within your blood, the mark of friendship and the mark of love blurring together the same way grief so often follows joy, weaving together to create something tender and something reverent. You look at him, and this moment feels eternal.

‘Besides,’ he mumbles, moving to guide a bunch of scallions, some tomatoes, and freshly peeled garlic on to the cutting board he has laid out for you. ‘Sometimes the most beautiful things in the room are the ones with flaws.’

Entirely unsure what to say to this, you simply bob your head with a noise of interest, a feigned motion of understanding. He does not seem to notice the way his words pierce you, cutting at wounds you have long since done your best to hide from him, and you are glad his smile endures. From the corner of your eye, you watch him carry on, cutting into an onion with little pomp and circumstance, the ghost of his words a phantom that chooses to haunt only you. Your hand trembles only slightly as you move the garlic into position, and you grip the handle tightly to keep your motions steady and even, gathering all your strength to root into the base of your joints.

Moments slip past you freely, moments where you are silent save for the deep inhalation of breath that fills your lungs as you watch him cut. Your friendship with Kyungsoo is still relatively new, in your eyes - two years on and still there are details of his life, his history, his character that elude you. Still, you know him well enough, likely somehow have always known, that he is complicated and oftentimes impossible, unfathomable, thinking too hard about every nuance and detail that colours his choices.

But when he cooks, when he is in the act of creation, making a whole reality to be touched and tasted with his bare hands, you find he has never been so certain of anything. As he turns the onion, halving it swiftly before quartering it, there is no doubt in his actions, no hesitation, and he seems to relax into this confidence, mind wandering freely because there is no room for its criticism.

‘To The Lighthouse or A Room of One’s Own?’ he asks, unprompted.

Tugging your bottom lip between your teeth, you begin slicing the garlic into small pieces as you consider his question. ‘To the Lighthouse.’

You're unsure who started this game, the habit of asking one another questions on your preferences, something that feels so fundamental to your relationship you imagine it is genetic to the very fabric of its existence. It no longer matters who started it, you think, only that it has persisted without ever fading, something you look forward to whenever you're together. Baekhyun finds this game rather comical, often wondering why you even bother when you both know so much about one another at this point old topics must be rehashed. But each time, every time, he says this Kyungsoo simply looks at you with an expression that could stitch together the stars and you know, together, that he is wrong.

Even if a topic is revisited, the answer is always different. In this way, you ensure that you know one another and you still never stop knowing.

Kyungsoo hums at your response. ‘Why?’

This is yet another unwritten rule of the game: for whatever you choose, you must offer a quote or a reason, the one thing you cling to that makes the choice feel superior over the other.

Three months ago, he loaned you both these books, and you had finished them rather quickly. The day you returned them, your fingers grazed as he took them from you, the resulting tremor of this touch leaving your hands caught in a fire that would not cease for days. He didn't ask what you thought beyond if you'd enjoyed them. You suppose he'd been saving it for this moment.

Pressing your palm into the flat of the knife, you compress a clove of garlic and dig deep. You'd given your answer automatically, on impulse, and hadn't truly considered the fact that you must quote the line that made your breath catch and your very bones quake. It hits you now that he's read these words, felt this kind of swooning even if there is distance between your twin heartbreaks; eyes kissing the same page long after one another has departed.

‘It was not knowledge, but unity she desired,' you begin, focusing intently on chopping so as not to lose your will, 'not inscriptions on tablets, nothing that could be written in any language known to men, but intimacy itself - which is knowledge.’

His knife falters in cutting the onion, the blade slipping against the wood of the cutting board as you finish speaking. Glancing out of the corner of your eye, you watch the juice spread beneath his perfect slices, his lips parting slightly as he takes in a slow hiss of breath. Steadying himself, he gathers his composure and begins chopping once more, nodding in agreement.

It is your turn to ask a question, but you take this moment of silence to watch the light from the wide kitchen window nestle between his cupid's bow, understanding with your whole chest why the moon fought so hard to claim the sun.

‘Are you okay?’ you murmur, keeping your tone quiet and gentle, concerned yet distanced, not wanting to embarrass him.

‘Mhmm,’ he hums, flippantly avoiding the question.

‘Dexter or Supernatural,' you inquire, moving your pile of minced garlic to the corner of the board as you gather the bunch of scallions.

‘Dexter,' is his confident reply.

'Have these already been washed?' you divert, and he glances to your hands, nodding. Lining them up, you continue.‘Why?’

Sighing, he unwraps a large cut of fish from its paper packaging, considering his choice. ‘We all make rules for ourselves,' he quotes. 'It’s these rules that help define who we are. So when we break those rules, we risk losing ourselves and becoming something unknown.’

Amidst your meticulous slicing, you feel yourself bristle. In the choice between the two, you agree - Dexter would be your first choice. Yet, you had not expected him to pick this quote, this particular choice carrying with it the weight of your identity. Your understanding of yourself and your needs has always been wrapped up in these few lines, your desire for rules and control the very thing that allows you to relate to the world. Everyone you know finds things both disruptingly and disturbingly true about themselves through their relations with other people, through their relationship to their surroundings.

You relate to yourself and to them through the rules you have cultivated, based on your experiences of others rather than their integration into your life. You want to break free from this, aware that this is only yet another way you stand to complicate your understanding of everything, but you rely on it.

And, it seems, so does he.

He is soft and sensitive, and yet conversely so rigid, operating within his own rules. To step outside would be a great unmaking, and, for one blissful moment, you find there is no space between where you end and he begins. In this understanding, you are both slinking toward a new reality.

Glancing down at your cutting board, you pout. The scallions will be uneven.

Kyungsoo swallows with a low cough, clearing his throat. ‘Neruda or Siken.’

A wide smile blooms across your features, this question perhaps one of the easiest he has ever asked. ‘Siken.’

Using your knife, you push the chopped scallions to the top of your cutting board and slowly roll a few of the tomatoes down to the center. Your smile falters, already picturing the mess of squashed pulp that will come from this. Years of cooking for yourself, but still your hands are too heavy for delicate things. With a small sigh, you angle your knife over the ripe curve, the skin so smooth you think your knife might slide right off without any incision at all.

As you start to press your knife down, Kyungsoo stops you.

‘Try like this.’

Coming to stand behind you, he takes your hands in his, joining you in holding the knife and holding the vegetable, the touch from his fingers feather light and, conversely, heavy as steel. Your breath halts its journey in your lungs, blood too warm and stagnant in your veins, your heart faltering amidst this disruption. The heat from his chest radiates into your back, meandering down your spine and into your legs, all over your nerves until you wonder if there is anything left of you, any part of you he has not touched.

He makes being near him feel like a season, full years and days lived in the wake of a breath; your every breath heavy with him, and the things your heart yearns to offer him. Every second full of an exhale transmutes into the precipice of a life well lived, because he is there and smiling and sharing the world with you even if he is not sharing the ardor in your lungs. Kyungsoo is the fifth season, a season unto you, an oncoming wind between the border of summer and autumn, between the heat and the chill, neither a warming nor a cooling but a possibility of both all at once.

You know this. You have always known this. But, recently, in the days you find yourself absent from him, your heart unmakes the memory of these small euphorias, unpossessed and eternally lonely, unwilling to cling to that which it cannot keep. And so you are whelmed and unmade by the totality of him, forced, now, to stitch yourself into someone entirely new, someone who knows how it feels to be close.

He guides your right hand forward, easing the knife slowly along the tomato until the base is what presses into the skin, not the middle.

‘Why Siken?’ he whispers, and he is close enough his breath tickles at your ear, cascading down your neck and into your shoulder. He spills over you, and you tremble, knowing he feels you but he says nothing, polite enough to maintain your pride.

He asked you a question. You know he did, and it takes work finding words when he is doing his best to consume you like this, your eyes watching as he, and you, together, slice a tomato into thin circles. The rhythm he creates with your twin hands is steady, even, almost musical in the way you can anticipate the sound of it, and it grounds you just enough to remember you are about to give absolutely everything away.

If he does not know yet, if he has not known, you suppose he will know now. But he asked. And so you will tell him.

‘Tell me how all this, and love too, will ruin us,’ you whisper, matching the volume of his voice. You know he will hear you. You wonder if he will feel you. ‘These, our bodies, possessed by light. Tell me we will never get used to it.’

Kyungsoo eases the knife down one last time, and keeps it there, pressed against the cutting board as the slice drops mutely against the other pieces, the juice from the vegetable seeping deep into the wood. His thumb moves slowly over yours in small circles - you’d like to call them reassuring, but as he steps closer behind you, as his other hand moves his fingers over your knuckles, you wonder if there is any reassurance to be found here.

In love, in lust, the solidarity you have found in your hobbies and your, almost selfish, avoidance have dissolved, leaving you exposed to the full extent of his soul. No, there is no reassurance in this liminal space, the moment in which you will either become unbreakable or tragically unrecognizable threatening your very sense of self. Had you known when you met him that it would feel this way? Had you known that loving him would be not unlike a benediction?

The problem, you think, is that even if you had known, nothing would have stopped you. In every life, in every choice, you love him like a beginning and an ending, your heart incapable of knowing much other than craving him.

His hands drift away, peeling off your skin, slowly, as though he is reluctant to leave. Turning until his nose is tucked into the hair just above your ear, he inhales deeply, hands coming to over just above your hips. The energy between you is a live wire, your mouth running dry and your tongue coming to wet your lips, feeling yourself grow parched. Kyungsoo takes a long breath, filling his lungs with nothing but you, before he exhales and whispers into the shell of your ear.

‘Can you handle it?’

You’re not sure if he means the quote or the rest of the tomato, not sure if he means if you can handle this, with him, or the rest of your existence without him. You aren’t entirely sure of much other than the force of your attraction, the sheer power of it, and the way you think it will fuel your every thought until your bones become ash, this love a windmill in your chest.

‘I think so,’ you mumble in affirmation, glancing over your shoulder to offer him a small expression of encouragement, hoping you look convincing.

His eyes have grown dark, the chocolate of his irises tempered with an impenetrable black, and a flush spreads across his cheeks so warm and pink you would think he’s been sugared. Immediately, you regret seeing him, the lust in you becoming a sea, the swell of it so deep and so strong, you fear you might drown in it, in him.

‘Actually, I’m feeling a bit warm.’ Side stepping along the island, away from him and out of his orbit, your words are rushed and hurried. Running a hand through your hair, you look at him, pleading. ‘Are you okay to take it from here?’

‘Yeah, are you okay?’ he asks furrowing his brow, concern evident in his voice.

‘I’m fine,’ you nod, looking everywhere but his face. ‘It’s fine. I just need to dip my toes in the water to cool off. Text me if you need me to come back?’

He laughs, watching you affectionately as you turn away from him, heading to the sliding door that leads to the brilliant green grass of the back yard. ‘Okay,’ he calls, his voice following you out.

You know that he will not.

You know that there is a barrier that stands between grief and loving, a door to walk through in which there is a boundary between the knowledge of love and the acceptance of it. He opened the door. You stepped through, momentarily basking in the reverence of it, only to leave, shutting it behind you, likely forever, to wallow in the ever comforting loneliness of wanting.

‘Are you joining me?’

Chanyeol’s girlfriend sits on the dock, leisurely swinging her feet in the water as she cranes her face into the sun to watch your approach. Covering her eyes with her hand to block the sun, she offers you a curious smile as you slide off your sandals and sit heavily beside her. Leaning back on your hands, you let the sun warm your neck and chest in contrast to the cold lake water that laps lazily over your feet and midway up your calf, pressing your fingers into the rough oak. The water’s chill walks up your skin, soothing the tension in your nerves that lingers from Kyungsoo’s breath, smile, lips, and voice.

In the distance, Chanyeol’s laughter mixes with Yixing’s and Baekhyun’s. Just beyond their small circle, Sehun and Jun canoe in amusement, the paddling of their oars a relaxing rhythm amidst the chaos that surrounds them. Baekhyun’s new girlfriend swims close by, her laughter jubilant yet reticent, still testing the limits of her comfort. Eyes still closed, you tilt your head to the side, remembering how you felt the day you were integrated into this group - shy and uncertain, the closeness of the bonds surrounding you both frightening and awe inspiring.

Chanyeol made it easy, as he always does, but, strangely enough, Kyungsoo made it easier. Even without loving him, without the intense desire to be near him, you would have chosen his company over all the rest. He said your name like it was something special, like he was careful with it inside his mouth - like it mattered. He wanted your opinion on everything, wanted your thoughts, wanted your voice first. You’ve lost count of the parties, the gatherings, the movie nights, the drinking games, and as a result all the times you’ve wound up next to him, tucked into a corner just talking and just learning.

Kyungsoo made it easier than all the rest, simply because he demanded you at his side.

Opening your eyes, the light seems to sparkle in the places where it kisses the water, putting a glimmer against your skin.

‘How did you do it?’The words taste bitter and heavy against your tongue, and you find yourself grimacing as you speak.

Chanyeol’s girlfriend, the Countess as he likes to call her, turns to face you. You feel her eyes move over your profile, patient despite her confusion. ‘Do what?’

‘Tell him you loved him.’ Chanyeol dives under the water only to break through the surface behind Baekhyun, dunking him with a gleeful howl. Would it have been easier to manage your feelings with someone so vocal? Someone with such little restraint? Sitting up, you press the base of your palms into your eyes and release a mournful sigh. ‘How did you own up to it?’

‘Well, I didn’t have to do much,’ she laughs. Looking at her, the expression your features decide to wear feels plagued by uncertainty but she does not see you. Her gaze has drifted to where Chanyeol swims, to his broad form and his musical laugh, her own expression softened beyond measure. She smiles as she speaks, unbridled in her admiration. ‘You know Chanyeol. He’s the least discrete person and also not terribly patient.’ Tossing you a knowing grin, she giggles affectionately and you cannot help but laugh, her happiness naturally contagious. ‘The beauty of those things is he figures out what he wants immediately and then acts on it only after he’s decided it’s to his benefit. He’s very discerning that way.’

Humming, you glance down at your legs and lean back on your hands once more, pouting. ‘Did you know, though? All that time, did you know?’

‘No,’ she shakes her head. ‘I suppose, looking back, there were always signs,’ she concedes quickly, ‘but we’re so similar, I would go between thinking it was just our way of communicating and connecting to thinking it was flirting, but only when I was alone. When I was with him, I just wanted to enjoy being with him.’

‘How?’ You don’t mean to sound so incisive or desperate, but the feel of Kyungsoo’s hands still nestles deep within your skin, and you can sense him there even after he has departed. You are certain that you will spend the rest of your life with him pressing against parts of you long dormant and long ignored. ‘How do you do that? How did you not lose your mind being so close to him?’

‘That’s giving me far too much credit,’ she laughs, body jostling against yours in her amusement.

On instinct, as though the very sound itself is a siren call, Chanyeol ceases his movements and turns to see her, the teasing smile he’d been sporting with Yixing fading into one of contented devotion. In a single instant, the mere sight of her smooths away all his edges. There is something unspoken, yet eternal, lurking in the depths of his eyes, his yearning a boundless loyalty that declares her as his treasure.

‘I always wanted to be close to him, and I was always on the edge of my sanity. But..’ her speech dies slowly, voice tight with emotion. Considering her words, she holds his stare and refuses to look away, seemingly adrift with him. Instinctively drawn to him, she leans forward slightly, the bones and the core of her pulling her to him as best they can. ‘He makes me happy. In the purest, most simple sense of the word he makes me happier than I’ve ever been able to really...attain, if that makes sense.’

She looks away from him then, turning to regard you rather seriously. ‘Happiness has always been a choice I have to make, but it’s also something that is elusive.’ All too easily she adopts the austere tone she so often uses when giving you advice - words stern and slightly cold, though still doing her best to remain supportive and encouraging. ‘When I’m with him, he sustains it. I’m not stressed and I’m not anxious, I just get to be. You have no idea how unbelievably peaceful that is. If I spend my time with him overthinking, it rushes me to a feeling, to a place we don’t need to be in. I don’t want to overthink, I just want to be with him.’

She takes him in once more, all the tension seeming to leave her muscles as her eyes touch what her hands cannot, visibly comforted. ‘More than anything, I just want to be with him’

Fundamentally you understand her statements, your heart responding and reacting to the sentiment with little input from your mind. A language has started to develop within you, the kind that seems to be spoken by Chanyeol and the countess, a language that exists where words fail entirely. There are no words to describe the way you yearn for Kyungsoo, not a single syntax that could contain his grace, his imperfections, the breadth of his very soul. There are no words, yet you comprehend all of it - you feel all of it, the very act of this understanding a transgression against your sense of self.

Shaking your head, you groan, doing your very best to stay the same, to stay guarded. ‘That’s too much to think about.’

Chuckling, she pokes you in the shoulder. ‘I know this is about Kyungsoo.’

Waving her hand away, you hurriedly hush her with a loud hiss, looking to the group and back again. Running your fingers over your arm, you massage the slight pain with a small frown. ‘They might hear you,’ you whisper, aghast.

She snorts. ‘They’re too absorbed in whatever competition Chanyeol has created. And it’s not like this is a big secret. But okay. I’ll be quiet..er.’

The blood in your veins seems to chill, matching the temperature of the water at your feet. Eyes wide, you whisper, ‘People know?’

‘Yes,’ she nods, like nothing has changed, like this single fact is the most inconsequential thing in the world. ‘I’m pretty sure everyone knows, except for Kyungsoo which is shocking.’

With a groan, you fall back onto the dock. Heated by the direct sunlight, the wood sends heat through your shoulders and spine, an otherworldly compassion that does its best to ease your tension. Draping your arm over your eyes, you sigh. ‘Must you always tease me?’

‘Yes. It’s my duty.’ Patting your leg gently she offers little condolence, her voice a sarcastic lament.

In the ensuing quiet colours move amidst the darkness behind your eyes, sunlight infiltrating the small gap between your arm and the bridge of your nose, and providing a kaleidoscope of purple and green. Lilacs and lilies are carried in the rustling breeze, the opposite side of the lake decorated with a field of flowers, its tall grass and array of blossoms just as dense as the hunger in your blood. If you were alone perhaps you would weep over this, the inward nature of this secret desire fueled by the feel of his fingertips and his laugh and his breath on your neck - it is enough to consume the very heart of you, leaving nothing in its wake.

To give in to this would be to render yourself unrecognizable.

‘Have you ever wondered who you would be if you weren’t trying to think your way through feelings?’

A groan of discontent bubbles in your chest, her question simultaneously full of good intentions while still demanding you confront the change occurring within you. Like always, she insists that you take control of it, that you become a participant in your very unmaking - that you surrender to it, as though the only thing you must endure is yourself. How much of this can one survive, you wonder. How much of a person can survive the devastation of wanting?

‘That’s not entirely helpful.’ You know that you are whining - you can hear the cadence of your unease seep through the last of your syllables. But this cannot be helped, you think. Your great resolve has been terribly weakened.

She inhales, preparing to reply, only to be interrupted by the sounds of splashing water making its approach. Removing your hand from your eyes, you lean up slightly and squint through the changing light to see Chanyeol, his arms breaking through the water as he swims to the dock. Pressing his hands onto the wood, he lifts himself up to linger between his girlfriends legs, getting both you and she wet. You roll slightly to the side in surprise, doing your best to avoid more water getting on your clothes, but she just leans forward, the stars and the moon shifting through her eyes she takes him in.

‘My love,’ she giggles, kissing his nose. As she pulls away, he follows after her, leaning forward for more, but she is already looking behind him, brow furrowed. ‘Aren’t you in the middle of some kind of challenge?’

‘Yeah,’ he laughs, folding his arms on the dock and resting his head as he gazes up at her. ‘We’re trying to see who can knock Jun out of his canoe first.’

Cocking an eyebrow at him, you smirk. ‘Isn’t that dangerous?’

‘He’s got a life jacket,’ he shrugs, entirely nonchalant. ‘Anyway, I need a good luck kiss.’

Running her hands through his hair, she lets her fingers toy with the tips of his ears as she speaks. ‘You know you’ll win even if you don’t get one.’

His eyes flutter closed under her thoughtful touching, swooning into her orbit as he hums. They stay like this for a moment, awash and enraptured with one another. Their world is foreign to you, a place of belonging where they live only with each other, and more vulnerable and brave than you could ever comprehend.

When he looks at her again, there is a silent communion that passes between them, words and conversations living and dying on their breaths without any speech at all.

‘Still,’ he pouts, and she understands, instantly pulling him up as he raises.

The prelude to this kiss is just as intimate as the act itself, and you look away, gazing over your shoulder back to the house, back to where Kyungsoo cooks, alone and possibly lonely, abandoned because you have not yet learned how to truly hold the sun in your hands. In truth, you are too fond, too enamored, too lost in him to remember yourself when you are with him; and you are too comfortable, too in control of your emotions to forget yourself, remembering all your flaws and the way they will inevitably be highlighted, all the light in the universe culminating in him and illuminating everything, including you.

Chanyeol swims away once he is satisfied, and you swallow the words that have threatened to rise in the back of your throat. In considering Kyungsoo, you have once again considered the reality of love - they have made you consider love, and there is something easy about the conversation you had before he arrived, so you do your best to return knowing, depressingly, she will not let you escape.

‘You both are assholes you know?’ you tease, nudging her gently.

She watches him hungrily, lips red and swollen, before she looks at you once more, distracted. ‘I meant what I said.’

‘You’re not helping,’ you groan, exasperated.

‘Only because you want to apply logic to your feelings.’ Having collected herself once more, her spine straightens, words full of authority. ‘Sometimes, feelings don’t make sense and sometimes they just are. Who are you when you aren’t thinking about how you feel?’

‘I don’t know,’ you shrug, defeated. ‘I can’t know because I don’t even understand what you’re saying. What do you mean by don’t think about how I feel?’

‘Yes, exactly!’ she says, far too enthusiastic for such a non-committal answer.

‘You know I understand even less now, you know this right?’ you murmur flatly, looking back to the water.

Gaze unfocused, your friends are a blur of action far away from you. Their colours merge and mix while you try to surrender your conscious mind in favor of feeling. Every breath you take is full of him, every inhale and exhale an ode to the way you both see and feel him without ever looking at all. The first summer you met him, everything was pure happiness. July was oppressive in the way it kept you perpetually warm, but you thought you would forget him, that the feeling would fade - this kind of craving dies with summer, the twilight of the season bringing forth a reality too harsh for summer’s fruit.

But he has not left you. Not once. Not even a little.

‘How does he make you feel?’ she tries, taking a different approach to her questioning. ‘Don’t think about why you feel it, just think about what it is.’

To you, the question is inherently frightening, the tendrils of it dripping down into the cage of your ribs and tightening, finding all the places the ache in you is the most special and the most tender. The question is frightening, but it bears an even more frightening answer - a frontier and the unexplored desert of truth.

‘Safe,’ you admit, acknowledging, horribly, that while you are safe with yourself, you are, perhaps, even more safe beside him; his aura, a temple. ‘He makes me feel safe.’

When you look at her once more, you’re certain you are something pathetic, but she simply takes hold of your hand and squeezes it, the reassurance of her touch a threat to the dam of solitude locked inside your chest.

‘Then,’ she begins, almost too soothing and too sweet for you to stand, ‘the next time you’re with him, let yourself be safe and nothing else. I think everyone wants to know who they are when they’re safe, without question.’

The problem, you think, is that you have always known who you would be if you let yourself go. The problem, you think, is that you have known and done your best to spirit it away, aware that to feel as much as you do, about everything, would render someone monstrous.

To be free and open and safe with him is to be hungry - not the absence of yearning, but the sheer, irrevocable abundance of it.

'Listen, the Baroness needs your room.'

Baekhyun corners you in the hallway long after the sun has set. Cheeks flushed and eyes glassy, the wine from dinner and the beer from the fire pit still linger in his bloodstream, giving him the sort of dazed, sleepy appearance that usually makes you soften towards him. Leaning against the wall for support, his closeness allows you to smell the smoke and ash from the bonfire on his clothes, and if he had posed any other question, said, quite possibly, anything else, you would have ruffled his hair and given him a hug, wanting to be close to him.

Instead, you rear back slightly, so bewildered you are certain you have mental whiplash.

'What?' The word comes out quickly, more an exclamation of sound than an actual word. ‘The who?’

Baekhyun shrugs, sheepish. ‘You know how Chanyeol calls his girl the Countess, Jongin calls his Duchess.’ He sways as he speaks, a sign of his drunkenness or a sign of his shyness at the question, you cannot be sure. ‘I’m trying this one out for mine.’

Humming, you nod. ‘That’s very nice. And no.’

'Come on,’ he pleads, already starting to whine. ‘You can share with someone else, but she really needs your room.'

Crossing your arms, you mirror his pose and lean against the wall. The dim light of the hallway puts shadows under his eyes, making his expression look far more forlorn than it likely is.

'Absolutely not,’ you say, sternly. Twelve hours later and you are in the same position as this morning, protesting against the unfairness of his requests. ‘I paid for that room out of my own pocket. She can't just come on this trip and freeload. Besides, didn't you bring her on this trip to get laid? What are you going to do, astral project through walls?'

'No, not really, I mean maybe but not exactly,’ he stammers, doing his best to piece his argument together. Too tipsy to mask his meaning with the smoothness of words, all he can do is suffer the truth of his emotions. ‘It’s not exactly like that but I can't make it that obvious.’

Rolling your eyes, you sigh, exasperated. 'Baekhyun, it's already obvious.'

'Don't you know there has to be finesse to this?' The barely restrained emotion in his voice dismantles the playful tone he has done his best to adopt, the intensity of his desire not something to be trifled with.

But so too are you unafraid of a challenge, your mind already made up, your heart already enclosed in your room with the lakeside view.

'What are you, seven?’ you laugh, incredulously. ‘I think she knows exactly what you're looking for out of this, it's why she's here at all.'

'It's not that obvious,’ he pouts.

'Literally, why would anyone agree to go on a vacation with a bunch of strangers and one guy they only kind of know?’ you challenge, unable to fathom any other conclusion. Even in the beginning, when Chanyeol would invite you out, your proclivity for quiet nights at home always had you leaning toward spending the evening with a book until he would mention Kyungsoo’s name. The sound of the word alone would draw you out, his name dissolving the essence of your loneliness if only for one night. ‘She's here for the same thing as you, just get it over with.'

'I don't just want to fuck her!' he exclaims in a loud whisper, both your eyes widening at his admission.

In the aftermath of his outburst, there is a looming silence in which you are uncertain what else there is to be said. It weighs down on you, on your shoulders and on your heart, the uprising in him so unlike his usually soft and sweet demeanor. He has never been one for committing, never been one for avoiding what he wants either, and so this limbo between wanting her to be his while also keeping her at arm’s length puts a throb in the center of your temple.

Squeezing your eyes closed, you dig your nails into your arms. 'I'm so confused about what's happening here.'

'I really like this girl.’ It’s the most careful Baekhyun has ever spoken, as if he is just as perplexed as you by the sheer tenacity of his emotions. Hearing himself say the words seems to put a colour in his cheeks, deepening the shade of his blush beyond alcohol, beyond the kiss of the afternoon sun. Baekhyun grows almost weary in his relief, glad that he has said it out loud, to someone. ‘I don't want to just make it about that one thing.'

Resting a hand on his shoulder, you offer him a sympathetic smile. Over the years of your friendship, you have watched him fall in love several times a day, with so many different things, his heart an atrium that endlessly nurtures romance and affection. It’s rare for him to settle on one single person, and even more rare for him to act on it.

'I respect you,’ you say slowly, pressing your thumb into the strong flesh of his arm in solidarity, ‘but I still paid money for that room, so it's not happening.'

'I'll pay you back for it,’ he tries, starting to sober beneath your perpetual refusal.

'Baekhyun -'

'Kyungsoo's room has two twin beds,’ he blurts out in a rush, all his words condensed on a single breath. Feeling yourself pale, the axis of the world seems to shift beneath your feet, your vision suddenly blurred and unfocused, dizzy, and he takes your surprised silence as volition to speak. ‘It's like a pleasant surprise! You can share with him.'

Even in the dark, you can see the mischievous glimmer in his eyes, the sparkle of an ulterior motive lurking in the depths. It would not be the first time he attempted to be your wingman, would also not be the first time he would fail at such an endeavor, and your hand slides away from his arm, falling limply at your side. You watch him, slack jawed at the horror of it all, stomach dropping all the way down to your toes.

'Baek, no.’ It is your turn to plead, amazed your voice even makes a sound with how dry your throat has become.

'Oh, come on!' Baekhyun has the audacity to laugh, slapping your arm congenitally as if his encouragement is enough to placate you. 'I'm trying to help you!'

Sarcastically, you snort. 'You're helping yourself and clinging to the hope that it would ever be about me.'

Somehow immune to your admonishment, he simply wiggles his brow salaciously. 'You know you like the idea.'

'Fucks sake, I should never have told you about this,’ you hiss, crossing your arms over your chest once more. ‘I got drunk one time and now you think you can play matchmaker.'

Baekhyun sighs, shrugging his shoulders. 'Listen, I already told her she can have your room -'

Rearing back, you blink rapidly, appalled and bewildered. 'What the fuck?'

'And Kyungsoo already agreed to letting you stay in his,’ he continues, ignoring your seething disdain as though this is simply a negotiation about where to go for breakfast.

Blood rushing away from your cheeks, running to service your overactive heart, you simply stare off into the distance, beyond Baekhyun, beyond the house altogether, to a time in history when you would not have to spend the evening sharing his air. 'I hate this.'

'I know.’ It’s his turn to rest a hand on your shoulder, his expression somehow far less sympathetic than yours had been. ‘But if this is the only way for both of us to get what we want, then someone has to put some fire under your ass.'

Shaking your head, you do not allow him to come into focus, mumbling with scathing contempt. 'Wow, I actually hate you.'

'You move at a glacial pace.’ Assuming the conversation is over, he removes his hand from your shoulder and turns away, no longer giving you any opportunity to complain. ‘At least now we all can say we tried.'

Hurriedly, you follow after him, pushing off the wall and gathering the strength to move your things from your lakeside room to Kyungsoo’s, the phantom memory of his skin on yours awakening once more.

'Why are you still talking?’ you call after him.

But he just tosses you a sly wink over his shoulder, laughing to himself as he heads down the stairs.

‘I can hear you overthinking from across the room.’

The light from the moon creeps in through the sheer curtains covering the window, Kyungoo’s voice filling the space, dancing on the rays, with a tired rasp. He’s worn himself out - laughing, yelling, drinking. Somehow, the sound is thick and heavy, sinking down and deep into places long left untouched, your body wired by the sound of him alone.

'Just go to sleep,’ he chastises, turning over in his bed.

It is only the two of you contained in this small space, twin beds side by side, close enough you can hear his breath. Pressing your head against the pillow, your mind has become divided in two, living in two places at once - this moment, and your time spent with him in the kitchen, doing its best to rationalize the difference. Cooking with him, he was all over you, hands on yours and chest against your back as if he was learning how to make a home of you. It was different then, almost too tactile to comprehend but the sun through the kitchen and living room windows somehow made the world seem wide.

His touch had a distance, a space - even if you could not see it, you could sense it, the light finding its way through, reminding you there is a line between your body and his, a line between simply touching and truly feeling.

Now, in the dark, everything, even the gap between your mattresses feels close - too intense, too raw, to real. The darkness is oppressive, like that, a brief moment in time in which you are aware of the edge of things. Resting in the center of your bed, you are aware of the edge of your limbs, the absolute limit of your body. In the room, you are aware of the edge of your bed and the way there is just enough distance between yours and his for a single person to stand. In his bed, you are aware of the edge of his lips, and the way his breath cascades over them, facing the window to kiss the moon.

And you are aware of the edge of your resolve, threatened and thinned to breaking by the way the light casts him in silver, illuminating all the parts of him you find sacred.

‘You’re wide awake too,’ you say to the ceiling, not allowing yourself to see him. ‘I guess that makes us even.’ Biting your lip, you close your eyes and sigh. ‘I’m not the only one who can’t fall asleep,’ you finish quietly.

Kyungsoo laughs, warm and rich, utterly intoxicating, no trace of irritation in his words as he speaks. ‘Okay,’ he muses. 'How about this.’

You hardly have time to knit your brow together in thought before he begins singing, the rich honey of his tone turning the room into amber. He doesn’t often do this, a talent he likes to keep to himself. Sometimes, when he is drunk, he can be convinced to be the start of a song, not the result, but even this takes an equal amount of convincing as it does bottles of beer. But you have found, over time, that the talent itself is not so secret - hidden, but not entirely forbidden.

When he is with you, somehow you always hear his music, your ear always finding and listening to his voice first. You have found there is not a single moment he is without music, the way he speaks a melody unto itself, but when the sun goes down and the others go to bed, and it is just you and just him, and the dying embers of a fire that blazed too high, he sings with you.

He sings, often, just to make you smile.

'Oh, dear god, is that supposed to be better?' you laugh, skin tingling with adrenaline and a down turned corner of your cheeks as though you are saying goodbye to a time in your life when things were safe.

Kyungsoo interrupts himself, and even though you do not see him, even though you cannot yet bring yourself to look, you know he is beaming. 'I'm not going to stop until you sing along.'

He continues singing and the joy in you sets itself free, liberated like a terror. You would be frightened if this moment were perfect, would feel the world dissolve around you, his voice a nightingale leading you to perish. You would retreat from all of this, except -

'I hate this song,’ you sigh, flopping your arms atop the mattress to signal your unrest.

'I know,’ he persists, turning in the bed to face you. The darkness does little to hide the intensity of his focus. If anything, it feels heightened, the angles of your profile burning beneath his scrutiny. ‘But you know it.'

In spite of yourself, you close your eyes and let the bliss send shivers through your veins. When you are not looking, held in the darkness of your own making, your body becomes otherworldly, something entirely outside of yourself, someone you don’t recognize. How far have you crossed? What line have you transgressed and ignored, blithely meandering into the irresistible territory of passion? It’s all over you now, your smile full of teeth and your mind empty, save for his melody and the advice of Chanyeol’s girlfriend:

Who are you when you are not trying to think through emotion?

It happens in the limbo between who you are and who you want to be, the room suddenly a cathedral devoted to your wanting. With your eyes open, your love takes a verbal form, this voice yours yet better, enhanced and empowered, and you sing because you no longer can help it. Nowhere near as confident or stable in your notes, your voice does its best to hold onto the words, finding the center of the notes almost too late before it’s time to move to another, but, strangely, you don’t find yourself blushing. It is not, you think, that the darkness has made you less inhibited, rather that with a song you hate and a smile at your lips, you simply don’t have it in you to mind.

'There it is!' he celebrates, raising his arms off the mattress and clapping.

Pressing a hand to your forehead, your shyness in the dark somehow even more amusing, you cackle. 'God, this is terrible.'

Adjusting his pillow, he hums. 'Exactly.'

The aftermath of your twin voices seems to reverberate around the room, long after you both have fallen quiet, the echo bouncing off your skin. This kind of euphoria could only be brought by him - his intelligence, his stubbornness, his perceptive intuitiveness. With only the echo and the memory sustained, your breath becomes unsteady, reminded that this place, this room, will no longer just be a place but a sanctuary and you will no longer just be you, but you will, forever more, be his.

'Sometimes,' you begin, words a whisper that you know he will still hear, 'you're funny.'

'It's just something I'm trying.' Such a simple statement, one full of humor and sarcasm but one with a texture that makes you press your tongue to the back of your teeth as he says it. He sounds tired of running - from himself, from all the great complexities he finds in the world, but not from you. 'Just something I want to try for a little while.’'

'All the time.’ Your own words are abrupt, clipped at the end of their syllables as you rush them out, needing him to hear the correction - to not miss it, not for a second. 'You're always funny, all the time.'

For a long while he considers your statement, and, in the absence of sound and conversation, the air in the room becomes thick, sluggish in your lungs. Your fingers curl into the sheets, eyes staring blankly up at the ceiling because now, if ever, it would be terribly dangerous to turn to face him. At least, you presume, he finally knows. He must know, the layers of this confession wholly befitting the hallowed energy that lingers between you.

Swallowing thickly, you let him take his time, forcing yourself to be patient. The darkness has brought everything together, the gap between your beds somehow closed, as though he is right next to you, even unreachable as he is.

'You're the only one who sees me that way,’ he says finally, and you hear the care laced in his voice, doing his best to articulate his appreciation.

You want more of him, more of this sound, more of everything he keeps tucked away where prying eyes cannot follow. You want all of him, his very existence an addiction.

'It's because I see you.' This time, you are more brave, more confident, and there is a pleasing dissonance to your voice, the old you starting to become devoured by the new.

Tonight tastes different on your tongue. Something about the moon and something about the sun, about the way you have spent too long in the light with your private luxuries shrinking ever further away, has allowed you to gather blossoms of starlight, their twinkling mysteries putting a hope in your joints that has never dared to trespass until this moment. All your life, the darkness has been a shroud and a veil, a cloister keeping you contained only with your yearning thoughts and your inadequacies, an invasion that has wormed its way within you for too long. It leaves you now, spilling outward and shimmering in the moonlight, leaving you free and empty, with room to nurture a burning flame.

Kyungsoo remains completely still, and you have the passing thought he does not move for fear of causing your retreat. 'And what do you see?' he asks softly.

Fingers pressing deep into the feather comforter, you hum. 'It depends.'

A low chuckle rumbles through his chest, the very sound a ripple of thunder in the night. 'That doesn't sound reassuring.'

Taking in a deep breath, you hold it in until your lungs hurt, smothering the doubt, the fear, and the inexplicable notion that this will fail until you can convince yourself you are indestructible.

'It depends on how long I let myself look, and depends on what you feel that day.’ Furrowing your brow, you tuck the inside of your cheek between your teeth. This should be sufficient, but he is so much more than a summation of looking, a summation time. He is something that is held without time, something you wish to behold eternally, even long after you are dust. 'It's not that you're mercurial,’ you continue, doing your best not to cringe at the clarity in your voice, ‘it's not that you're not consistent. I think I just see other things because I take my time looking.'

How would he look if you said these things to him in the daylight? What would the midday yellows and oranges reflect if he looked at you, and let himself be seen? Would you tell him your looking extends beyond admiration, beyond mere affection, and into the shuddering truth of love? To say all this in the sunlight, what would become of you?

You think it’s for the best that you will never have the answers to these questions, the night the only thing clinging tenderly to your pride, protective and secure.

'And do you like what you see?'

His voice is full of bashful apprehension, the rustling of his own sheets a symphony to accompany his tentative questioning. He shifts restlessly, hopefully, and you feel the sound with your whole body.

Licking your lips, you press onward, getting used to breaking the darkness - getting used to feeling raw and open. 'That also depends.'

'On what you see?'

Unable to help yourself, you finally turn to your side and look at him, eyes adjusting almost instantly to trace the nuanced details of his face, the moonlight painting silver shadows along his features. You’ve been lured to him, driven to see him now that he is asking to be seen, wanting your eyes on him; the very question begged you to look, and to take your time looking. Incrementally your longing grows, a swell in your chest that challenges the very depth of the lake, rushing through you until it cannot be contained.

'On whether you want me to like it,’ you clarify.

Leaning up to support his head on his hand, he looks at you and the hunger painted over his expression is enough to have your fists curling into the mattress. It stirs in you the need to be consumed, to be loved by his mouth and the palms of his hands, the greed in you not unlike an uprising. The flush in your neck spreads over your chest, your shirt constrictive and tight, suddenly no more room for you and all this impossible craving. Even still, Kyungsoo still remains calm, a king in the world of pleasure, looking at you as though you are a gift for feasting.

'I think people always want to be liked in some way, don't you think?’

A low growl lurks in the back of his voice, tone dropped down an octave to find gravel you have never heard before. All month, the nights have been uncharacteristically cool, heralding the slow death of summer as it bleeds into autumn, but you are heated. His gaze lives beneath your skin, now, a fire that refuses to burn out.

‘And,’ he carries on, as though you remain unlit, ‘I also don't think your opinion of me should depend on me. That's for you to make.'

Lips parted, mouth wanting to take him in, you mirror his pose and lean up on your arm. Slowly, you shake your head. 'That's not what I meant.'

The rasp in your voice surprises you both, and he smiles at the tension he has created, excited at the prospect of snapping it.

'Then what did you mean?' he presses, and you would rejoice at the sensuality of it, at the way the fullness of his lips shapes the words, but the appetite within him is like a hand at the center of your throat.

'I meant whether you want me to like it...' The admission drifts away, the choir of blood in your heart on fire with the weight of honesty. But you are glad for this burning, the fire that eats at you every bit his as it is yours. 'Whether my opinion matters.'

'Your opinion matters.' Kyungsoo doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t allow room for ambiguity or dishonesty. His eyes narrow, penetrative and demanding, keeping you still. 'You matter.'

Unfurling your hands, your fingers press into the sheets as though they are his shirt, his hands, his skin. The angular brutality of him has unmade the careful concealing you have spent years constructing. Hours ago, you had admitted that Kyungsoo makes you feel safe but now you are realizing the peril of letting him in - realizing you are the torment and the danger, little more than the ghosts of your desires. Now, you are starved for him, your tongue a desert aching to be drenched.

Tossing the sheets to the side, Kyungsoo moves his legs over the bed and rises to a stand, taller than you’ve ever seen him stand. Steel keeps his spine straight, shoulders rolled back in pause as though his mind is catching up with his limbs, before he crosses the small space and comes to sit on your bed. You don’t trust yourself with him this close, not anymore. Not after you have learned to love, not only him, but the very act of loving him.

Shifts closer to you, close enough he could touch all of you, not just your legs, your hips, your waist, your chest, but so too your face and your lips - close enough you can taste him on the air. With your lips parted, every breath you take is full of him, tongue wet and heavy with his flavor.

‘What are you doing?’

‘We aren’t like the others,’ he says plainly, fingers toying with the sheets beside your hands.

Your eyes drop to his hands, avoiding the power of the intimacy you find in his expression. It feeds into the room, your tongue coming to lick your lips and he takes in a shuddering breath, the very sound sending a jolt of desire between your thighs. Taking your silence as permission, he continues to speak, the very anguish of his words exhausted at the prospect of not having you.

‘We don’t…’ Taking a deep breath, he glances around the room, searching. ‘Flirt,’ he settles, though even this word does not seem to satisfy him. His gaze on you is hard, urging you to look up and see him, to meet his eyes and witness him. When you do, you’re certain you could smell his very heart, your blood suddenly full of his seductive magic. ‘At least, not like they do. I don’t make speeches and you don’t surrender, not unless you’ve been given explicit proof that it’s safe. That you’re right.’

It’s as though he looks down into you, deep enough that his gaze means to caress your ribs, your bones, wrapping himself around your spine until all your senses belong to him.

‘You see me.’ His teeth glide roughly over his bottom lip, nipping it quickly before releasing it, the blood beneath the skin rushing to make it more plump than it was before. ‘And I see you. I have never stopped seeing you. I’ve not wanted to stop seeing you, finding you, learning you since the day I met you.’

If you are the devil lurking in the dark, the hungry one with eyes of greed then he is the lust, the one who has torn through you and pulled out the language you have only just started to understand. The moment that follows is enormous, a moment in which you realize love is not only the act of feeling but the act of seeing, of being seen. He describes you as though he knows you, as though he knows the clawed and ugly parts of you that threaten to tear the fabric of your existence apart, and as though he loves even what he sees in those.

You don’t think you’ve ever been so aware of gravity, of the way language is not only a syntax but a physics, and of the way he has slowly inched closer and closer, your vision full of only him. With your eyes adjusted to the dark, you come to see yourself as a hawk, able to find yourself in his eyes, able to see yourself as he sees you - pupils dilated and not allowing you the privilege to remain invisible. In feeding on him, you feed on yourself, and so, too, you suppose does he feed on you, on himself, on the carnal savoring of your longing, united.

‘What are you saying,’ you whisper, certain he hears you, certain he hears your plea to be explicit.

‘I’m saying,’ he begins, lifting his hand to cup your chin. He holds it in his hand and pulls you close, his breath on your lips a fever, the feel of his bones pressing into yours sparking a voracious desire to be devoured, ‘if you are thinking of taking a risk, you are safe.’

His truth is a dawn breaking over your skin, spirit sanctified by the permission he grants you. Before you can even comprehend your actions you press your hands into the mattress and give yourself the momentum necessary to close the distance between your lips. The sheer force of the kiss gnaws at you, his free hand coming to wrap around your waist to pull you close. Flush against him, you think you are powerful enough to eat the moon, to eat the sun, to have him and keep him buried beneath your tongue.

He moans against your mouth, the sound of it shuddering against your chest and vibrating through you. Your own arms wind around his neck, fingers toying with the soft hair at the nape of his neck, unable to mind that this new position is awkward and difficult to sustain. You have managed much worse, have contained whole stars in the center of your chest for years and still have survived - you think you can manage the slant of your waist as he holds you against him, unforgiving.

Running his tongue along your lips, he asks for permission you are eager to grant, slipping his tongue against yours in a tentative stroke of possession. In your mouth, he is the blunt edge of a knife, cutting you deep enough that you think no other hands, no other lips will have their fill of you - no one else will have their fill and still find themselves engorged with an unconquered thirst. Sucking his bottom lip between your teeth, you nip the flesh to a swell that feels warm and plump.

He smiles against you, pulling his lip away and you smile too, his voluptuous mouth a blessing.

‘You’re wrong,’ you murmur, grazing his lips as you speak.

Insatiable, he kisses you again, stealing what he can of you until you are breathless. ‘How so?’

Moving one hand from his neck, you cup his cheek and laugh, a sound he eats with his own chuckle. ‘We are exactly like the others.’

Author’s Note v2.0: i do not own the quotes from Virginia Woolf - To The Lighthouse; Dexter, the TV show; or Richard Siken - Scheherazade

tag list: @yehet-me-up @wonderlustlucas @junkfoodwriting @taestfully @heatofmyexoheart @majci @ahgishaman @softly-savage-mint-yoongi @lamichellee

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charsfx · 3 years ago

Text

Lance’s long lost daughter headcanon - Adeleide Danuluk

This was supposed to come out in December 2020, but instead, it’s coming out in May 2021. Before you get into the headcanon, I’ll give a refresher because its been so long. Another OC of mine is Adeleide who is Lance’s daughter that he had no prior knowledge of. She was introduced in a comic called “Cynthia and the Indigo Plateau” last year, but I gave up on the comic, because a 10 page comic would have turned into a 50 page comic and I don’t do any comics past 25 pages anymore. So like Ross and Bertha, I’m introducing her through a headcanon. She did make an appearance in Lance’s 41st birthday, just to remind you that she exists. There will also be pictures in here that some of you have seen in the comic before. So without further ado, here is her headcanon. I’m not much of a lengthy writer, so sorry if there are grammatical errors.

ADELEIDE PAST:

Adeleide was born in Blackthorn City, Johto in 2002. She is the daughter and love child of Lance Blackthorn (father) and Amelia Danuluk (mother). Her mother and father were in a casual relationship for a year back in 2001; but unfortunately, her parents broke up, and Adeleide was born without her father’s knowledge. She continued living in Blackthorn under her mother’s maiden name. Her mother also made the decision to stay as a single parent for the rest of her life.

Like everyone else in Blackthorn, Adeleide had a love for dragon Pokemon; and after years of taking the family Altaria to the Pokevet so often, the girl wanted to be a Pokevet.

Adeleide enjoyed (and still does) watching Pokemon battles on the television. She was (and still is) a big fan of Lance Blackthorn and wished to watch him battle live and meet him one day. She liked the man, because not only was he from Blackthorn, but he was a dragon specialist. She owned some of his merchandise, and wanted the same Pokemon as him too.

At the age of fourteen, Adeleide was starting to notice the littlest of the things. Every time Lance appeared on the TV screen, her mother always gave a bitter look. She then began to wonder if her mother had some sort of past with the dragon master. Obsessed with her mother’s reactions towards Lance, Adeleide started looking at the man a little closer, and could see physical resemblances. She told herself that it could just be a coincidence, but she had to be sure. She then approached her mother about her suspicions, but was immediately told never to bring the subject up again until she was eighteen.

On the day Adeleide turned eighteen, she approached her mother again on the Lance issue, and as promised, her mother spilled everything. Of course Adeleide was upset; she could’ve had a father in her life somehow, but that was taken away from her. Her mother - however - gave the excuse that Lance had a future and she didn’t want to burden him with a baby, as he was rising through the ranks towards success and fame at that time.

Shortly after she was told the truth, Adeleide was able to get Lance’s phone number from her mother. After what Lance thought was a weird fan interaction, Adeleide told Lance who she really was. Of course there was scepticism on Lance’s end, but her mother immediately talked to him and confirmed that Adeleide’s words were true and that he’d fathered a child when they were both 22; she even offered that if he was still unsure that he could take a paternity test.

ADELEIDE AND LANCE’S WEEK TOGETHER IN JULY 2020:

Lance and Adeleide talked a few more times on the phone before Adeleide finally found the courage to ask the champion if she could meet him in person. Unfortunately, she knew through the hesitation in his voice, that he didn’t want the same, but knowing how to get what she wanted, Lance eventually gave in and they agreed on spending a week together in Blackthorn. After their week, they would both decide on whether or not they should pursue a father-daughter relationship, or go their separate ways and pretend that nothing had ever happened.

Before Adeleide met her biological father, she studied hard on what father’s are and what their responsibilities were when it came to their children; however, she took a lot of her research too literally.

Day 1:

Lance had met up with Adeleide right off the train in Blackthorn and told her immediately that if she blamed him for his absence that he would leave, but she assured him that she had known the truth for a while and thought nothing of that sort.

They went shopping later and Lance’s wallet paid the price. According to Adeleide, “Father’s are supposed to pay for everything,” so he bought her new clothes, shoes and makeup. That’s when he found out that she was a manipulative, spoiled brat. In her life, she had gotten everything she ever wanted, and expected the same from everyone else; and what Adeleide wanted now was to have a father in her life, and she was going to do everything in her power to get that.

Day 2:

On their second day together, Adeleide and Lance decided to bake all day together. Adeleide was having the time of her life, but she soon noticed that Lance looked like he wasn’t having any fun at all. She tried to create some fun by beginning a food fight, but Lance was having none of it. After subtly displaying her disappointment, Lance felt bad and he had his revenge by resuming the food fight.

After their food fight, they sort of bonded by telling each other who they were and their likes and dislikes. Adeleide then got a stomach ache later from all of the cookie dough she had eaten and went home to rest for the remainder of the day.

Day 3:

On day three, Lance and Adeleide went out for ice cream. Seeing that Lance had that uncomfortable look on his face again, Adeleide asked him if he wanted to go back to the Indigo Plateau. He was obviously uncertain and uncomfortable talking to her and being in her presence, so why should she force him to stay? Fortunately for her, Lance insisted on staying and trying to be a good dad. He opened up and said that he was only uncomfortable because he couldn’t find a connection between them. There was nothing they could really bond about. He was trying to be a dad to an adult; a person who could already take care of themselves and make their own decisions. It would be a lot easier if she were a small child.

After hearing that, Adeleide then tried finding that connection through their love of dragon pokemon. She proudly displayed her dragonite and swablu, and Lance was speechless. She then demanded a battle, and he obliged without hesitation.

Lance won with ease; he thought he’d teach her a little bit of humility.

Day 4,5 and 6

On those days they mostly talked. They would get a coffee, walk around town and maybe see a movie, but for the most part, they just talked. They talked about their pasts, their personalities, their pokemon, their careers and their futures. He even gave her a tour around Blackthorn estate and took her to her grandparent’s graves, where he would tell endless stories about them.

It wasn’t until Day 6 when Lance and Adeleide finally found that connection, and began having deep conversations that they would keep to themselves.

Day 7

On their last day, they discussed how they wanted to move forwards. Should they part ways and never see each other again? Or should they pursue a father-daughter relationship that needed a lot of work. After some thorough discussion, and confirming that Adeleide wanted nothing to do with the Blackthorn name, they decided to pursue the relationship by writing to each other often and seeing each other when each of them had some spare time. They knew that they wouldn’t be close, but it would get better. Afterwords, they said their temporary goodbyes and parted ways.

ADELEIDE PRESENT:

Currently, Adeleide is nineteen years of age, is still a spoiled brat, and is attending university in Sinnoh where she is studying to become a Pokevet that specialises in dragon Pokemon.

Her and Lance still write to each other and visit when they can. They're not particularly close, but they know they’ll get there eventually.

She has a fiance now and often makes the joke with Lance that she’ll be giving him a grandchild for him to babysit sometime this year. She also stans her father together with Cynthia and hopes he gives her a brother or sister one day.

That’s it! Sorry her headcanon came out so late!! Currently in my AU Lance and Adeleide had kept in contact since last July, so this headcanon was just put to the side for so long and I had to get this out before father’s day haha.

#champion lance #elite four lance #pokemon lance #oc #johto #headcanon

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twdeadfanfic · 4 years ago

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Stranded Pt.1

TWD|Death Stranded AU with aspects of both worlds and my own thing, and mostly TWD characters showing up as we go.

Daryl Dixon x OC

Summary: 30 years have passed since the Stranding ended the world as it was known, as if pretty much the apocalypse came, and now people live in isolated communities or by themselves, while the dead walkers roam the world and so do hostile groups of people. Daryl Dixon is a freelance porter that during a delivery finds an orphan baby who he takes, unsure of what do with her, and not much later stumbles into Rick Grimes, and ex-guard looking for his missing family with the help of Grady Memorial Settlement, in exchange of working for them by joining to their net the other settlements, reconnecting the world, and with the help of Vikki, a scout sent by Grady to take Rick to those settlements, and to help them reach Alexandria, the final destination, a big, distant settlement, where his family is supposed to be.

Chapter 1/25 Words 3751

The sky was getting darker and darker, black clouds following him. Daryl could hear the timefall storm behind him getting closer and the moans of the dead as he rode on his bike as fast as he could, trying to leave them both behind. He could smell the rain falling, that rain that if it poured over you long enough, it would turn your body, mind, and soul into whatever those walking, flesh-eating, corpses were, and so he speeded up even more. At least those walkers were easier to leave behind than the rain, the storm was approaching fast, too fast.

Daryl knew he had to find a place to take refuge from it but as he frantically looked around, he couldn’t find anything. He could already hear the rain splattering on the ground behind him, and as he looked around again for somewhere to hide, one of those walkers seemed to come out of nowhere. Suddenly it was in front of his bike and Daryl slammed the brakes out of instinct, turning the bike, but it slid down the hill on the already wet ground, and both Daryl, the bike and the cargo skidded through mud and stones, right towards a cliff that Daryl had been trying to avoid getting too close to.

Daryl rolled to the side in time to avoid falling off the cliff but his bike wasn’t so lucky, and he couldn’t reach it fast enough to stop it from falling down the cliff. Shit dammit. There was no time to curse or complain, though, the timefall was approaching fast and the walkers were approaching…well, rather slow, but approaching still.

Daryl looked around once again, trying to see something through the darkness, some place to hide from the rain, and then he saw it, a small prepper’s bunker some meters away. He ran to it as fast as he could, some droplets of timefall hitting him right before he reached the tiny, covered porch of the bunker, but his suit protected him, unless he ended up drenched in the rain.

Panting, Daryl closed the grating doors so no walkers could get in, and he let himself drop down onto the metal floor, trying to recover his breath. He had lost his damn bike, his brother’s bike, the one he had stolen from Merle, so many years ago. His brother used it to deliver drugs and what not for his business, so it was good for a freelance porter like Daryl. He’d stolen it from his brother, to take from him something that he loved, like he felt then that Merle had done to him…but no, he shouldn’t let himself think about that, he couldn’t, that dreaded fist was already clenching his heart and something was stabbing his stomach…he couldn’t.

He needed to focus on what he was going to do now… damn, he was such an idiot, how he could have been so careless and so clumsy. He knew he shouldn’t have gone to that area, it was famous for having an almost incessant timefall and a good share of walkers. But the delivery was very, very well paid, and heaven knew he needed the money. Now he had lost not only that cargo and he knew he was going to get an awful review for it, but he had also lost his damn bike, and he couldn’t afford one. Maybe he could get some pieces and build one, he worked as a mechanic before he was a porter, maybe he could find some junk pieces and turn them into something…

But for that, he needed to leave that damn place, but there he was, trapped in a bunker’s porch by the timefall, he didn’t know for how long, trying to be as silent as possible so walkers wouldn’t notice him, he didn’t want a herd rattling the grating doors, he’d be trapped forever, and the prepper that lived in the bunker wouldn’t like to find its outsides full of walkers.

The prepper…maybe Daryl could try and explain them his situation? But he hated the idea of having to ask for help, he didn’t need it, he could manage on his own like he’d always done. Besides, those kind of preppers that lived isolated weren’t the most friendly and social people in the world…and coming from Daryl, who was quite a loner and liked his solitude, and who couldn’t remember the last time that he talked to a person who wasn’t in a terminal making a delivery, that was saying a lot.

Still, maybe he could check the bunker’s terminal, see if the prepper needed some delivery, earn some much-needed money, especially now that he had messed up his last delivery and lost his bike, and maybe the prepper would have something useful to give him and help him with the deliver…sure, not a bike, but…something.

With that in mind, Daryl got up and checked the terminal, but when he pushed the button nothing happened. Weird. Daryl tried again but nothing, and he frowned, looking around. Maybe their power generator didn’t work? It happened sometimes, a few of his delivers had been pieces to fix those generators, most were handmade and didn’t work too well, and sometimes he was paid extra if he helped to fix it. He couldn’t go out to check, though, not until the timefall stopped. Maybe the bunker was abandoned? It wouldn’t be strange, in the middle of nowhere as it was, but then again, most prepper’s bunkers were, just not in the middle of a seemingly eternal timefall rain.

The bunker seemed taken care of, though, so maybe their power generator had indeed broken down? If that was the case, they’d be in need of help, trying to survive with no power at all, if they hadn’t sent a message on time asking for help and pieces before the emergency power ran off, nobody would know that they needed help. Well, if he helped them, then maybe they could give him something useful to get back on his feet, or at the very least they might allow him to wait inside for the timefall to leave, instead of at the porch.

“Hello? Is there anybody in there?” Daryl called, not too loud so as not to attract walkers, but he wasn’t sure if someone inside the bunker would hear him. They were made so the sounds of the inside couldn’t be heard at the outside, so as not to attract walkers, but he wasn’t sure about the other way around. “Do you need help?”

There was no answer, and Daryl didn’t know what to do, chewing on his lip, but finally he decided to try another time, and he knocked on the bunker’s door. However, as he knocked on the door, it opened as if it hadn’t been locked and just a push could open it, and no sooner had the door opened, Daryl heard the cries of what sounded like a baby.

What the hell.

Daryl walked into the bunker, barely illuminated by the emergency lights, the cries getting louder, and there it was, a rudimentary crib with a baby in it, crying. Daryl was so stunned he couldn’t move or do anything, looking at the baby in shock, before he came back to his senses and rushed to close the door so walkers couldn’t hear the cries. Then he walked to the crib and the crying baby, looking at her but doing nothing, before looking around, but nobody else seemed to be there…what the hell…what was going on…what was this…

The baby’s cries were getting more desperate, and so Daryl reached down and hesitantly picked her up, unsure of how to hold her but trying to at least not to hurt her or drop her. The baby kept crying her heart out, but she didn’t struggle, letting him hold her, and an instinct that Daryl didn’t even know he had seemed to kick in, so he found himself holding the baby against him carefully and rocking her from side to side as he shushed her.

The baby stopped wailing and Daryl pulled her a bit away to look at her, tears still streaming down her face as she pouted, but she was holding onto him. “The hell’s going on, baby?” Daryl asked more to himself than her, stunned and confused. Then, he noticed a paper inside the crib, and he took it.

“If you’re reading this, I hope that you’re the help and you have arrived on time. I’ve messed up everything, and I’ve failed my baby and I’ve failed my wife, she was sick, died shortly after the childbirth, and now I’ll die too and I’ll leave our baby alone, and who I’m kidding, she’ll die too, unless you have arrived on time and you have arrived to help, and not to murder us or rob us.

The generator broke down and we were left with the emergency supply. I should have called for help, but I had some pieces hidden in a warehouse not far, I thought I could fix it myself, and so I took my daughter and went, but we were attacked by a herd before reaching it. I managed to save my daughter, hidden under my clothes, and to outrun them, but not before one of them took a bite off my arm.

You know how it works. It is not as fast as the timefall, but eventually your flesh turns into that, and so does your brain, and you become one of them. I feel good, but I also can feel my temperature getting higher. It’s only a matter of hours before I’m one of them. I know I have to leave before that, I know I can’t be near her when I turn. And so I’m writing this, after sending a message for help with the emergency power that’s left, but the terminal shut down as I sent it, and I don’t know if it worked, but I do hope that it did and so that’s why you are here reading this. I hope you didn’t take too long, I hope my baby is alive and safe with you.

There are bottles of milk in the fridge over the table, it should last you for some days. She’s perfect and you’ll love her, or whoever you give her to, but what would I tell you. Please take care of her, please take her to safety, even if you are not the help, even if you came to murder us or rob us. Help her.

I don’t feel that good now. I’m burning. The skin in my hands is starting to change. I have to leave.

Help her please, and tell her I love her, and that I’m sorry.

Please, help her.”

Shit…

Daryl looked at the baby again, who was holding onto him, whimpering as tears fell down her face, and then again at the letter. The man writing that had to be insane. Leave a baby alone like that in a bunker? She could perfectly have starved to death, and with the door unlocked, someone could have gotten in, he had, and his intention wasn’t to murder the baby, but there was all kind of people around…not to mention that a walker could have stumbled into it, they weren’t smart to open doors, but it could have pushed it open somehow. The worse was the idea of starvation, though, it sounded like a horrible death…but sure, the man had called for help and was expecting someone to show up as soon as possible…and what was he supposed to do, knowing that he was going to turn into one of those brainless monsters, living in the middle of nowhere, too far from anyone to deliver the baby before he turned and devoured her.

Yeah, sure, the guy hadn’t had many options, but it still seemed absolutely reckless to leave a baby alone like that to Daryl…but maybe it showed how desperate the father had been. Still, that baby could have starved to death so easily, dying in such a horrible way…

The thought made Daryl kick into action, no matter he was still stunned and in shock, and he looked around for the fridge. He left the baby on the crib and she began crying loudly again, so Daryl rushed to get a bottle of milk from the fridge as fast as he could, picking up the baby again.

He held her with one arm as best as he could, scared that he was going to let the small baby fall to the ground and he’d kill her, so he could feed her the bottle. Daryl had never held a baby before, much less give a bottle to one, and he was panicking as if he were fighting a herd of walkers at the thought of doing it wrong. The baby didn’t fall down, though, neither it seemed like he was hurting her, or that she was uncomfortable, snuggled on the crook of his elbow, and once he clumsily placed the bottle close to her mouth, the baby latched to it and began drinking.

“Yeah, that is…hungry uh?” Daryl said quietly, and he didn’t dare to move while the baby fed herself, seeming hungry, until she finally stopped drinking and began to fuss as she tried to get away from the bottle. “It’s alright, baby.” Daryl took the bottle away, and feeling a bit more confident, he kept holding the baby just with one arm, holding her against his chest, to place the bottle on the counter.

Then, Daryl looked down at the baby again. She wasn’t crying anymore, though her very tiny hands still held to him as if she were holding for dear life, no matter she hadn’t any strength… in a way, it was true that she was holding for dear life. Then…then she smiled at him, a very little but very cute smile, even Daryl had to admit it, and the corner of his mouth lifted up into a tiny smile too, as his heart did something it hadn’t ever done before.

“The hell are we gonna do now, uh, kid?” He muttered as he looked around, feeling clueless and helpless before he let himself fall down onto the tattered sofa that was on the middle of the bunker, near the crib, still holding the baby. He glanced towards the letter again and let out a sigh. “So…it seemed your daddy had to leave before he turned into one of those dead assholes, so he wouldn’t hurt you…I’m sorry about it, baby. I don’t know if you understand shit of what I’m saying…you don’t, do you?” Daryl said and then the baby cooed, looking up at him. “Or do you? I haven’t talked to a baby before, you’re the first one I meet…” He could have met a baby before, though, but he’d messed that and no, no he couldn’t think about that, stop it.

Daryl closed his eyes tight, trying to stop his brain, and then he heard the baby making another noise and felt her tiny hand holding to the sleeve of his suit, so he looked at her, and the baby made another of those babbly sounds at him. “Yeah, baby, I’m sorry about your daddy…but I’ll help you, alright? Ain’t no sure how, though…” Daryl couldn’t leave the baby, there was no way, no matter he didn’t know what to do with her, he knew he had to help her, and he didn’t know if the message asking for help had been sent or not, but he didn’t feel like waiting there to find out if someone arrived to help the baby, if nobody did, he’d run out of milk for her waiting in the middle of nowhere. “Alright, let’s see…”

Daryl had lost all his things, that fell down the cliff with his bike and his cargo, except the bag attached to his suit, and he held the baby with one arm again, this time without panicking that much about dropping her, to rummage into the bag, taking out a map. “Alright, we’re here, see…” He pointed it on the map and kept talking to the baby, for some reason, even if probably she didn’t know what was going on. “Ain’t sure if there’re preppers around, but see this here? That’s the Grady Memorial settlement. It’s big, sure they can help a baby like you, yeah? We got no bike or nothing, so it’s a couple of days walking or more…” That, if they didn’t got trapped somewhere by timefall or a herd, or both, like it had happened to him now.

Daryl didn’t know much about that settlement, didn’t like it much either. It was the biggest in the area, with all sort of facilities, so they thought of themselves and their settlement as big shit, they wouldn’t make dealings with a porter like him, they had their own company. Yeah, he didn’t like those uppity assholes at all, and the only time he’d been around to offer his services, to be dismissed as if he were ridiculous, he hadn’t liked the vibe of the place either, even if he couldn’t really say why, he’d learned to trust his instincts. But sure, there would be someone there who could help the baby, doctors, and nurseries, and people to adopt her probably and what no.

Still, Daryl didn’t like the idea of leaving her there, in that place he didn’t like even if he couldn’t put his finger on why, but what else could he do? That plan would have to do, maybe he could come up with something else on his way there, and if he didn’t…well, the baby would sure have a good life there, in a place protected of timefall, walkers, hunger, and hostile groups.

“But how do we get there, uh, baby?” Daryl muttered…how was he going to walk around with a baby when there were walkers around for sure and the continuous threat of timefall, and of finding hostile groups, especially now that he had lost his stuff, he was lucky enough he’d kept his crossbow, strapped to him. Carefully holding the baby to him, Daryl got up and walked around the small bunker, trying to find something useful, but there wasn’t much.

Glancing at the crib again, Daryl noticed some sort of clothing hanging from the side of it, and when he took it, he saw it was some sort of baby sling, but as he touched it, he realized it was made with a material resistant to timefall, like his suit. “Your daddy knew what he was doing, uh?” He said quietly to the baby, who whether understood him or not, she always cooed or made a sound when he talked to her, and Daryl kind of liked it. “Okay, it can work.”

He could carry the baby on the sling and she’d be protected from the timefall, as long as they didn’t get caught up in it for too long, he could even place her and the sling under his clothes, let just her head out, covered with the sling, and he could be careful not to get caught up by a group of walkers or of bad people, he always was. It’d have to do, even if he didn’t like the idea of walking for days instead of riding, with so many threats around, with a little baby with him.

“But first,” he kept talking to the baby. “We gotta wait for the timefall to stop and for the walkers to disperse.” He walked to the door and carefully opened it, only to find a big timefall storm still raging outside and everything pitch black around. “Alright, I guess we still have to wait…we should rest anyway, we got a long journey ahead.”

In all honestly, Daryl was exhausted and his body ached. He knew he could keep going if he had to, but it seemed like all he could do for now was rest, so better take advantage of it and caught up on some sleep. It’d been a while since the last time he’d slept in someplace as protected as a bunker…which reminded him, there was no power to lock the door, but still he had to make sure the door was properly closed so nothing and no one could get in while he slept.

Daryl placed the baby on the crib and as soon as he did, she began crying again. “It’s okay, baby, you wait a minute.” Daryl pushed a heavy looking metal shelf towards the door, grunting, until he managed to block the door with it, so nothing could get in. Once he was done, he rushed to pick up the baby again. “I got you, hey, I got you,” he murmured, rocking her side to side carefully, and soon the baby had stopped crying, looking at him and reaching a tiny hand to hold to his clothes, and somehow Daryl found himself smiling softly at her again. “Told you I got you…now come, let’s get our head down.”

The sofa could pull out as a bed, he realized, but Daryl didn’t bother, just letting himself flop down on it again. “Wanna eat some more?” He told her, taking the bottle from the table and carefully offering it to her, and the baby drank the milk that was left, looking at him. “I hope we got enough milk to last until we reach Grady…”

With a tired groan, Daryl lifted his feet onto the sofa and shifted to lie down on it, being mindful of not letting the baby fall down. He had the feeling that if he tried to leave her on the crib, she’d began crying again, and so he rested her over his chest, and the baby looked at him. “Sure you miss your daddy, uh? I’m sorry, baby…” Daryl told her quietly, carefully brushing a finger over the small cheek of the baby, and when she smiled at him, Daryl felt something tugging at his heart again. “I’m gonna get some sleep, we don’t know when I’ll be able to do so once we’re out here…you sleep too, alright?” He told her, and the baby cooed at him.

Daryl secured an arm around her, holding her safely against his chest, and then he began to hum to her quietly. He didn’t know who fell asleep first, him or the baby, but soon they were both asleep.

There you have it, the first chapter of this thing. I’m so scared about this, thanks to the people who gave this a chance and I hope you didn’t hate it! Please, if you enjoyed it and have a moment, let me know your thoughts.

As always, excuse my English, is not my first language

If you want to be (un)tagged, let me know. I also can remove you only from this fic.

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#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x oc #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon/oc #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fic #daryl dixon & oc #death stranding au #twd au

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