#once again i have forgotten to draw myself with my glasses. who care | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

whitesparrows97 · 3 years ago

Text

Love is a foolish thing

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x female reader

Warnings: drinking of alcohol, swear words, angst, mean people, jealousy, minor injuries, explicit sexual content including oral (female receiving, indication of male receiving), fingering, light spanking, little bit of dirty talk, protected and unprotected sex

Genre: Strangers to friends with benefits to lovers

Summary: Falling in love… it sounded so simple. Falling. Like one wrong step, a small stumble and you were deeply in love. But there was nothing easy about love.

Word Count: 20K

Note: My tumblr nearly crashed while trying to post this story because it’s too long. I really have no idea how that happened, I just couldn’t control myself. So nothing new. But what is new is the banner. This is the first time I created one (goodbye using gifs from tumblr) and I really hope you like it. (The gif of van Gogh’s Starry Night is not mine and I found it on giphy. The picture of Taehyung he posted himself when they were touring in Berlin.)

Also a little disclaimer: English is not my first language so please excuse any mistakes! I’d normally split a story this long into chapters but because this is a story for the btswritersclub fic exchange, I decided to post it as a oneshot. I really hope you’ll like it @taetaesbaebaepsae !

intro: new beginnings

He felt the thumping bass throughout his body and welcomed the tingling sensation on his skin with a wide grin as he pushed his way through the crowd. His gaze slid over the countless faces as he passed them; most of whom he had seen before on campus or at previous parties.

Faces were what he could remember.

The bone structure of the face, how their hair framed their face, their facial expressions… These were all things that could not be easily changed and what made a person unique. No matter how much they changed, dyed their hair or cut it off altogether, wore a lot of makeup or none at all – there was something that didn’t change, no matter how hard they tried. And that’s exactly what Taehyung saw in people, which was why it was easy for him to recognize people, even if he had only run into someone once in the hallway.

For a long time, it had felt like a curse to Taehyung. Nowadays, he knew how to use that gaze to his advantage. It helped him especially in his studies and his art teacher had praised him more than once for having that special sight.

There was one thing, however, that he had a lot of trouble with.

“Hi, Taehyung!” A young man appeared in front of him, shouting against the loud music.

Taehyung shifted his gaze down to look the shorter man in the eye. The young man grinned at him, a bit wryly and a red plastic cup in one hand, which judging by his already glazed look was not his first cup of the evening.

He put on a smile and nodded. “Hey…”

Names were the thing he just couldn’t remember, for the life of him. He was glad he knew his best friend’s name after all these years. Even if every now and then he found himself thinking before it thankfully came back to him. It was frustrating to know so many people, to recognize them, but to have forgotten what their name was.

Taehyung didn’t wait for an answer, but with another smile apologized to the young man in front of him, who had already started moving clumsily to the music again. Taehyung doubted that he even noticed that Taehyung had disappeared.

He gave a wide berth to the area in the center of the room that had been chosen as the dance floor this evening and instead kept close to the walls. From there, he could get a rough idea of who all had come to this party on a Thursday night.

Despite the loud music, he could hear the loud voices, buzzing conversations and peals of laughter. Here and there, yelling mingled in. The first visitors to the party were already clinging to the shoulders and upper arms of their friends, which were the only reason they were still standing upright.

Taehyung shook his head, laughing softly when he saw this. He hadn’t been that late; a glance at his watch showed him that the party had only started a little over an hour ago. But it was summer, which meant that the semester would soon be over. And with that came all the exams, so Taehyung couldn’t blame anyone for needing time off from studying.

As he looked over the various groups of people, his gaze lingered on a face he didn’t recognize.

Intrigued, he slowed in his walk.

He frowned and his smile disappeared as he looked at you intently from head to toe. His father had once described this facial expression as his “artist’s expression”. When he was so engrossed in a painting or drawing that he didn’t notice how his eyebrows drew together and deep wrinkles formed in his forehead. Even now he could hear his mother scolding him that the wrinkles eventually wouldn’t go away anymore.

When he had explained to her that wrinkles told more stories than words ever could, that they were charismatic, she had shaken her head with a smile.

Taehyung’s gaze lingered on your lips, which had formed into a relaxed smile as you listened to someone talking to you. Min Yoongi, his best friend and a music student in his final semester.

Taehyung didn’t know what the two of you were talking about or if you knew each other, but you seemed to get along well.

He continued to watch you for a brief moment before you seemed apologetic and then disappeared towards the kitchen with your cup in hand. Determined, Taehyung walked towards his best friend and when he was only a few feet away, Yoongi looked up.

“Hey,” the older of the two said, nodding at Taehyung. He took a sip from his cup and let his gaze roam the room, just as Taehyung had done moments before.

“Hi,” he greeted back, eyeing Yoongi for a moment. “Who was that?”

Yoongi laughed into his cup and shook his head with a grin. “You must know everything and everyone, don’t you?”

Taehyung shrugged, but didn’t contradict him. “I just like to get to know the people I study with.”

Yoongi snorted at his statement. “Even if I told you her name, you’d forget it in half an hour anyway.”

Taehyung couldn’t object to that either. It probably wouldn’t even take half an hour. Sometimes Taehyung felt as if names went into the one ear and right out the other without even a brief stopover at his brain.

“You know,” Yoongi began, raising an eyebrow, “women usually aren’t too keen on being called by the wrong name by mistake. Just a little advice.”

Now Taehyung was the one who snorted. “Thanks, you seem to know a lot about that. Should be a little careful with your new girlfriend. Just a little advice for you,” he repeated Yoongi’s statement and Yoongi grinned.

For a moment there was silence between the two men. Only the loud, booming music and the buzz of voices filled the pause between them.

“Y/N,” Yoongi then suddenly said, “her name is Y/N. She studied in another city before and came to this university for her master’s.”

“What did she study?”

“Why don’t you ask her that yourself if you’re so interested?”

Taehyung raised his glass, which was almost empty anyway, downed it in one gulp and made his way to the kitchen where you had disappeared to.

. . .

“So you’re Y/N. Right?” Taehyung didn’t show how proud he was that he had been able to remember your name.

You nodded and waited for him to introduce himself. “Well… Are you going to tell me yours or do I have to guess?” you asked after a short silence when he kept studying your face but no words came out of his mouth.

“Oh, sure,” he blurted out, startled by this question for a second, “I’m Taehyung.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw his hand twitch, as if he wanted to shake your hand and you had to stifle a grin.

But Taehyung had seen the corners of your mouth move upward. “Are you laughing at me?” he asked, holding a hand to his heart in feigned hurt.

“No, no,” you placated him, but any further attempt to explain was interrupted by your laughter rising inside you. Taehyung looked at you through narrowed eyes for another moment before a grin spread across his face as well.

You liked his smile. You noticed it right away, even though you had only been talking for a few minutes.

Your gaze lingered on his lips for a moment too long and when you looked back into his eyes, his grin had widened even more and there was an amused glint in his gaze that hadn’t been there before.

You had to avert your gaze and let your eyes wander around the kitchen. You didn’t know what it was, but his gaze made you nervous. It was intense. As if he was looking right through you.

“Do you want to dance?” he asked, bringing you back from your thoughts.

Instead of giving an answer, you took his hand and led him back to the living room.

The dance floor had not emptied in the meantime, rather the opposite was the case. By now most of the guests at the party were crowding onto it, so that the entire room had become a dance floor. And even the people who were standing on the sidelines and preferred to watch the spectacle from a distance were persuaded to dance.

You made your way past sweaty bodies until you finally found a place where you could move a little more freely. The song that was playing was energetic and fast – and while the other people around you were jumping up and down, singing along loudly and off-key to the lyrics, Taehyung surprised you when he put an arm on your waist and pulled you close to him.

The two glasses of alcohol you had already drunk were slowly but surely making themselves noticeable. A pleasant warmth flooded through you as you felt Taehyung’s strong hands on your hips, moving you to the beat of the music. That, and the fact he smiled at you whenever you locked eyes made your heart beat a little faster.

Especially when his thumb drew little circles on the small sliver of bare skin where your shirt had ridden up. The air was stuffy and sweaty, but at that moment you didn’t mind it one bit.

Taehyung leaned forward and your breath hitched when his lips touched your ear as he said, “You’re beautiful.”

You waited with your eye roll until Taehyung had leaned back again, so he definitely caught your gesture. Immediately, his eyebrows shot up.

Now it was up to you to lean forward. “Can’t you think of anything better?”

Taehyung thought for a moment, and if you hadn’t felt his hand on your lower back, pulling you closer and closer to him with each movement, you would have thought he was completely lost in thought.

But then you saw the corners of his mouth twitch up as he tried to suppress the grin.

Again he leaned forward toward you, but this time he didn’t speak directly. Instead, you first felt his lips against the shell of your ear, and then gasped in surprise as he gently bit your sensitive skin. The deep, throaty laugh that followed sent jolts of electricity through your veins.

“I could also say that you look incredibly hot and caught my eye as soon as I arrived.”

You were completely stilled in your movements and the hand that had been on your hip before had crept up to your neck. His slender, long fingers danced on your sweaty skin and your eyes fluttered closed as you savored the sensation he and his fingers were causing.

You almost forgot about his lips against your ear, which made you flinch as Taehyung spoke the rest of his sentence. “And none of it would be a lie.”

When you opened your eyes again, the hand had disappeared from your neck and resumed its place on your hip. You didn’t speak a word, your looks said enough. And when your eyes wandered lower for a moment and came to rest on his lips with that mischievous grin, the outcome of the evening was sealed.

. . .

Your back hit the wall behind you and you let out a soft “Oh” in surprise. Taehyung took the opportunity and his tongue slipped between your open lips into your mouth. You moaned as he explored your mouth, which spurred Taehyung on even more.

His hands traveled down your torso, down your sides, and finally grasped your hips. Then he pulled you tighter against him so that you were locked between him and the wall behind you. Even though you didn’t feel locked in at all. You hadn’t felt this free in a long time.

Your hands reached out between your two bodies on his torso, and you felt the muscles under his shirt twitch as your fingertips brushed almost delicately over sensitive areas. His lips turned into a grin before he kissed you passionately again.

His fingers wandered lower and finally wrapped around one of your thighs. They dug pleasantly into your flesh, making you hum contentedly. With a sudden exclamation of surprise from you, he lifted your leg and the moan you both gave as your hips met was muffled when your lips crashed into each other once again.

But it wasn’t just his hips you felt against yours. You felt him hard, right between your legs as he circled his hips against yours.

He wandered his mouth along your jaw first before kissing down your neck. “You are so receptive to my touch,” he said softly, but in the otherwise silent room, his voice sounded loud and clear. His hot breath tickled you, making you shiver as Taehyung ran his tongue along your neck.

“Sorry,” you laughed softly when you shuddered again as his tongue explored the contours of your collarbone.

His grip around your hip and thigh strengthened before he let go of your neck and straightened up. He released one hand and gently stroked your hot cheeks with it as his gaze darted back and forth between your eyes. “You never have to apologize for being sensitive to touch. That just tells me I’m doing everything right.”

And how right he was.

“Do you have condoms?”

Your question made him pause, and a second later he gently let your leg slide back to the floor. He seemed to think for a moment, an index finger pressed to his lips before he stuck it up in the air as if he had a sudden idea. You watched as he walked toward the bed and opened the nightstand drawer. He rummaged around in it for a moment, and you grimaced as you thought about Taehyung digging around in other people’s things.

“Bingo,” Taehyung exclaimed, reaching into the drawer and tossing a package onto the made bed. “Unopened,” Taehyung added as he turned to look at you, raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t be mean,” you said, but had to smile as well. His smile was contagious. “Just be glad the person doesn’t seem to be having that much sex… it’s to our benefit right now.”

“That,” Taehyung countered, “or that’s a new pack because he just fucks a lot.”

You couldn’t hold back your grunt when you heard his statement, that’s how dryly he said it. “Whose room is this, anyway?”

“I don’t know,” Taehyung said and looking around for a moment.

You didn’t need to check, because you couldn’t have known the person. It could even be Taehyung’s room for all you knew. You didn’t even know who the host was at that party. A girl, Grace, from one of your seminars had approached you yesterday and invited you. You hadn’t seen her all evening and wondered if she had shown up yet.

With slow and deliberate steps, you walked toward the bed in front of which he stood. As you came to a stop in front of him, you noticed his frown in the dim light. “What is it?”

“I hope you don’t think of me as being unprepared or expecting us not to use contraception.” He held your gaze as if he were watching every little emotion in your face. “I didn’t plan on doing this tonight, so I didn’t come prepared.”

Your hands wandered up along his sides, feeling the muscles under his T-shirt. “So,” you said softly, looking back up at him, “you don’t do this kind of thing often?”

A mischievous grin had stolen onto his face in return. “Occasionally,” he admitted with a shrug, “but probably less often than you’re thinking right now.”

You were about to reply something when suddenly the door was yanked open behind you and the music from the living room could be heard more clearly all at once. Surprised, you turned around.

“Oh,” a guy laughed when he caught sight of the two of you. A girl stumbled into him as he stopped so suddenly in the doorway.

“This place seems to be occupied,” the girl laughed now, too, eyeing the two of you.

Her boyfriend – or acquaintance – also caught her glance. “Or are you two interested in–”

“No,” Taehyung said firmly, before the other could fully ask his question. He stepped out from behind you and it only took a few long strides before he arrived at the door. “We’re not. Thank you.” With those words, he pushed them both out of the room and closed the door. “Shit,” he muttered.

With nimble fingers, you opened the box of condoms and grabbed one before heading towards the door as well. Taehyung had leaned forward and seemed to be examining something on the door. Or rather, something that wasn’t there.

“What’s wrong?”

He straightened up again and made a head movement toward the lock. “There’s no key.”

“Okay?” you asked, “Is that a problem?” Your fingers gently stroked his upper arm, squeezing it once firmly, and Taehyung understood. He raised an eyebrow and the next moment he spun you around and your back hit something again, this time it was the door. There was a dull thud as your back hit the wood and you felt it give in from Taehyung’s strength. You just hoped it would hold for the next few minutes…

“Not at all,” he whispered in your ear and you bit your lower lip to stifle the wanting moan that almost fell over your lips. You closed your eyes to fully concentrate on Taehyung’s lips, his teeth which left red and blue marks on your sensitive skin.

Your eyes fluttered open in surprise, however, as Taehyung’s lips suddenly disappeared and he slid down to the floor so that he was kneeling in front of you. His eyelashes cast long shadows in the dim light of the bedside lamp, and absentmindedly you brushed his hair out of his face.

“I know I’m repeating myself and that you don’t want to hear it, but you’re so beautiful.” His long fingers found their way under your top and every little bit of skin he bared was covered by his lips a short time later. What remained was heat – heat that coursed through you and eventually accumulated in your abdomen.

You were about to pull him back to his feet by his shoulders when his fingers found your jeans button and a moment later you heard the opening of a zipper. His hand found yours, which was still clinging to the condom as if it were an anchor and which he took from you before guiding your hand to his head. As you looked down at yourself, fingers buried in his hair as if you’d done it umpteen times before, your eyes met.

Lust and mischievousness were in his gaze, the smirk hidden from your perspective, but you saw the glint in his eyes as he pulled down your pants along with your underwear.

. . .

“And then he went down on me.”

“He what?” Grace looked at you in surprise.

You cleared your throat. Your cheeks were warm and you tried to avoid her curious gaze. “He went down on me.”

You wanted to end this conversation as quickly as you could. You didn’t even remember how Grace had talked you into telling her about last Thursday in the first place. But Grace had pestered you for so long, until you finally caved in. She had seen you disappear into that bedroom with Taehyung, which was why you couldn’t deny anything.

“Oh. Wow.”

“Oh, come on,” you said, trying to downplay the subject. With a little more force than necessary, you shut your laptop and shoved it into your backpack. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“You bet it is,” she whispered-shouted, earning a few scowls from the nearby students. She quickly apologized to them in a softer tone. “You bet it is,” she repeated, quieter this time, as you walked toward the library exit. “No guy does this on a one night stand.”

“I’m sure there are some.”

“You wouldn’t give a blow job either, would you?” she completely bypassed your argument.

The door slammed shut behind you and you took one deep breath. You loved the fresh evening air in early summer… especially when you had been sitting in the stuffy library for hours. Even though some loved the smell of the old books and dusty paper, it mainly caused you a headache and the unspeakable pressure before your next exams.

“I’m just saying,” Grace continued to explain, “you can’t be sure if the person is clean.”

“I am clean,” you muttered, feeling a little affronted. “I told him that beforehand.”

“On the other hand, yeah, he can wear a condom I guess. Hmm…”

For a moment, you wondered if you were in a parallel universe, where Grace was walking the path to the dorm alone and therefore not responding to you. But then she turned around and looked at you with waggling eyebrows. “Did you come?”

“Grace,” you sighed, wanting the questioning to stop. Instead of answering her, you countered, “I should have just ignored you those few weeks ago when you sat down next to me in the seminar.”

“And would be alone to this day? That would be so sad.”

You rolled your eyes. “At least then I wouldn’t have to let you pepper me with your questions.”

“True again,” she said with a shrug, “but then you wouldn’t have anyone to brag to about the great sex you had either.”

You said nothing in reply, but kept your gaze firmly focused on the building a few hundred feet in front of you.

“Or miserable sex we can make fun of?”

That elicited an annoyed groan from you, and finally a shake of your head. “First of all, we don’t make fun of anyone at all, no matter how good or bad someone is in bed.”

“Okay, Miss Diplomacy.” A pause arose and it amused you to see Grace growing more impatient by the second. “Okay and so what? So was he good?”

Sighing, you nodded, “Yes, he was.” Before Grace could clap her hands in delight, you quickly added, “I didn’t come, though.” The words came out of your mouth faster than normal.

She just snorted, though. “Then trust me, this won’t be the last time.”

You raised an eyebrow. “We both agreed that this will be a one time thing.”

“Well, look at it this way,” she began, and with a beep, her student ID was confirmed and the glass door to the building slid open. “Did he notice you didn’t come?” You nodded. “Then he’ll certainly have the urge to prove himself all over again.”

You thought for a moment, letting Grace’s words run through your mind. “Oh, I don’t know. It wasn’t because of him.”

“Then what was it about? Couldn’t you relax?”

You nodded again. “The whole situation was unfortunate,” you began to explain in more detail. “I felt like someone was going to burst into the room at any moment and–” You bit your lip, trying not to say the rest of the sentence.

Grace gave you a meaningful look. “And?”

You had arrived outside your room and nervously played with your key card. “It’s just…” Ringing for words, you looked down at the floor until you finally looked up in frustration. Grace looked at you patiently, seeming to notice how hard it was for you to talk about it. “He was so… gentle.”

When Grace heard that, she had to grunt.

“Hey,” you countered, smacking her on the upper arm.

“Ouch.” She grimaced as she rubbed the sore spot. “Would you have preferred him to be rough?”

You tilted your head and considered. Grace laughed when she saw that.

“I’m just saying,” you said, now serious again, “No one night stand I’ve had has tried this hard. I guess, I’m just a bit surprised, that’s all.”

“Then why don’t you talk to Taehyung,” Grace replied, still a grin on her face as she walked backwards down the hall to her room, “Maybe he won’t try so hard next time.” You could still hear her giggling, even as she disappeared around the corner and out of your field of vision.

. . .

falling into habits

Taehyung moaned and thrust deeply into you one last time before coming to a stop inside of you. He braced himself on his forearms to avoid crushing you under his weight while you both caught your breath. Silently you lay in Taehyung’s bed before he finally reached between your bodies, held the condom tightly, and pulled out before finally rolling off of you.

He didn’t bother to get up and dispose of the used condom, just tied it together, lazily wrapped it in a tissue, and rolled back onto his back so that he was lying next to you.

For a moment you lay like that next to each other, completely detached from the world that was going on outside Taehyung’s apartment and instead in one where only the two of you existed.

But then you picked yourself up with a discontented sigh, and awkwardly climbed over Taehyung, who made an attempt to hold you by the waist. Laughing softly, you batted his hands aside and a second later your bare feet came into contact with the carpet.

Your fingers found your panties and quickly you slipped them back on. So did your jeans and your T-shirt. You glanced back and saw Taehyung still lying naked in his bed, on his stomach now, while the bedspread covered his lower half. Your gaze slid down his trained back nonetheless, and you bit your lips as images of the last few minutes popped into your head. Or rather hours, as you silently cursed when you glanced at your phone.

You heard Taehyung laughing tiredly behind you. “Why’re you cursing?”

As you continued to gather the rest of your things, you briefly glanced over your shoulder back at the bed. Taehyung had turned his head so he could watch you.

“I’m late,” you explained to him, stuffing your belongings into your bag, which you unceremoniously slipped on.

Taehyung groaned and buried his face in the pillow.

“Can’t you skip it and stay here instead?” His voice sounded muffled and you wanted to go back the few steps to run your fingers through his tousled hair.

But you couldn’t.

“I’ll see you in a few days.”

“That’s not soon enough,” he whined and shook his head.

“I think my group would kill me if I didn’t come to the meeting. Besides,” you added a little louder, worried that Taehyung would fall asleep otherwise, “I’m already grateful to them for accepting me into their group in the middle of the semester in the first place. I don’t want to cause any more inconvenience.”

You heard only a displeased murmur from Taehyung’s direction and threw a quick goodbye into the room before leaving his apartment.

The walk to the campus took you half an hour, even if you hurried. However, you could use the time well to reflect on the last weeks.

After your conversation with Grace, it had only taken a few days for you to receive a message from an unknown number. Yoongi had given your phone number to Taehyung through Grace – which Grace had commented with an “I told you so” – and a day later you had met up.

This time hadn’t been at a party, but at his home, and quickly one thing had led to another. You hadn’t even taken a seat on the sofa properly before your lips had crashed into each other.

You had never talked about where this was going with you – and if it was going anywhere at all – but for now you were pleased with how easy everything was with Taehyung. You were on the same wavelength, he made you laugh, and the sex was good. Great even. That’s all you needed right now. And honestly, that’s all you wanted right now. Relationships meant drama and in the end at least one person got hurt.

Out of breath, but fairly punctual, you arrived at the workroom where you had arranged to meet your group. The others were already there, but no one seemed to mind that you had arrived a few minutes late.

You spent the next two hours putting together the topics you had worked on and writing them into the presentation. You had been surprised when you first met and found out that everyone had done their work. You worked hard and expected the same from others, and as you had explained to Taehyung, you were glad that the group had accepted you at all.

After all, by then well over half of the semester had passed, and in the beginning you had inevitably set the group back in their schedule. While the others had already been working on comparing the similarities and differences between their novels from The Modern Period, you had been reading your novel and gathering notes at lightning speed so that you could now sit together and pretty much finish the presentation. Each of the four of you would still have to write your own essay, but you knew you could do that in two to three days. You had all the information, so all you had to do was put it on paper.

Relieved and satisfied, you sighed as your bones cracked when you stretched your arms high above your head and arched your back.

“Wow, we really got something done today,” Toni said, visibly satisfied as she scrolled through the presentation one last time.

An approving nod went through the group and Thomas also closed his laptop with a quiet click.

“Do you want to join us for a drink?” Mia looked at you through her delicate glasses, which she pushed back up her nose with an index finger.

You didn’t have to think twice, because you were happy about any invitation. So a smile spread across your face before you nodded.

Conversations and laughter accompanied you down the stairs and you were so engrossed in a conversation with Toni that you didn’t notice the person waiting in front of the entrance of the building. It was only when you heard your name called out to you that you turned your attention to the person.

Taehyung, you realized with surprise.

“Hi,” you greeted him, eyebrows furrowed together in confusion, “what are you doing here?”

“Hey you. I thought I’d pick you up.” He had both hands buried in the pockets of his sweatpants and had thrown on a hoodie to protect himself against the coolness of the summer evening.

You took the few steps back to Taehyung, noticing at the edge of your awareness how the others’ conversations had fallen silent.

“Pick me up? For what?”

Taehyung shrugged. “Yoongi and Grace invited us. I think they both wanted to watch this new movie that started in theaters a few days ago.”

“Oh.” You looked over your shoulder at the others and saw the three of them glance quickly to the side before your eyes could meet.

“Oh?” Taehyung repeated, taking his hands out of his pockets. Some disappointment spread across his face, as if he had expected a different answer.

You heard a “Is that Kim Taehyung from Fine Arts?” and a “Fine he is definitely,” which made you pause for a moment.

“Well… I uhm, I actually wanted to go out with the others. They just asked me if I wanted to join them.” You pointed your thumb over your shoulder to the group, which had now started whispering quietly.

“Ah I see,” Taehyung said and his grin was back when he heard that, “So you’re making friends?”

“Taehyung,” you said, your voice sounding more whiny than you had intended.

“It’s all good,” he laughed and before you knew what was happening, he had put an arm around you and pulled you against him for a moment. You froze, surprised about the sudden public display of affection.

His perfume was still in your nose even when he had already let go of you and taken a step away. “Have a nice evening then. Text me when you get home okay or need someone to pick you up. I’ll stay awake until then.”

And without further ado, he smiled at you again before walking past you. As he passed the group, he waved to them and again wished you a good evening. You watched as he grew smaller and smaller in the twilight of the evening, the farther away he got, before finally disappearing behind a corner.

All evening you couldn’t get his grin and the scent of his perfume out of your mind and nose. And more than once you wondered if it would have been better if you’d made a different choice.

. . .

what am I to you?

The apartment door was yanked open, revealing a beaming, smiling Grace.

“Hello, you two,” she greeted you with a sly smile before stepping aside, thus allowing you into the apartment. “Did you find your way here okay? When I first came to Seokjin’s apartment I got lost.”

You kicked your shoes off your feet and whispered a “thank you” at Taehyung as he took them from you and placed them neatly next to the countless others.

“Sure,” he answered Grace’s question, straightening up again.

In the narrow hallway, he looked huge, as if his shoulders were almost touching the two walls. You could only see his back as you walked to the voices that seemed to be coming from the living room. Music was clearly audible playing over the stereo, but quiet enough that you could talk without having to shout. You couldn’t deny the slight nervous tingle that had formed on your skin.

Your eyes fell on Taehyung’s hand. You would only have to stretch out your arm a little and then your fingers would touch his fingertips.

Your arm, which had lifted slightly on its own, fell limply back to your side. You kept your hands to yourself, even though nervousness was spreading through you. Like a balloon, it inflated before bursting as you stepped through the door into the room. Ten, twelve faces looked up as the three of you entered the room. You were relieved that there was no big fuss about it, but the others greeted you briefly and then continued in their conversation, which you had interrupted.

You took a seat on the sofa next to a girl you didn’t know. But she looked nice.

Unnoticed, your eyes followed Taehyung, who took a seat at the other end of the sofa and returned Yoongi’s handshake. The two of them jumped right into an animated conversation.

You were so focused on the two of them that you didn’t notice the look the girl next to you was giving you. Until she finally cleared her throat and you winced, caught and startled.

“Sorry,” she smiled apologetically at you, “I didn’t quite catch your name. What’s your name again?”

“Y/N.” You had to clear your throat as only a croak came out at first. “And what’s your name?”

“Emilia, but feel free to call me Emmy.” She gave you another genuine smile, which you returned. Even your last bit of nervousness fell away from you as you lapsed into pleasant small talk over the next few minutes.

It got even easier as Grace placed a glass of freshly mixed cocktail in front of you on the coffee table and dropped to the floor at your feet. You were all the more relieved to have her by your side and not have to answer every question, but to sink into the back of the sofa for a moment and just follow the conversation.

Inevitably, your gaze slid to Taehyung and it surprised you when your eyes met.

When Taehyung saw this, he grinned at you. You had talked on the way about how awkward it was for you that he knew all the other guests and you knew no one except for him and Grace, and a bit of Yoongi, though mostly from Grace’s or Taehyung’s stories.

That’s why you could interpret his grin well. You knew what he was going to say, even if you didn’t have a chance to talk right now.

“See, it’s not so bad.”

You had spent so much time with him the last few weeks that you could practically hear his deep voice in your head. A warm feeling spread through you, even when he had already averted his gaze and was absorbed in talking to Yoongi again.

That’s how the hours of the evening went by.

You played a never-ending round of Uno, in which you didn’t come last (you preferred to hide the fact that you came second to last), and other card games. No drinking games, which you were happy about. No forcing to drink so everyone could drink what they liked, when they liked.

At one point, Taehyung and Grace had switched places and you got all hot as he leaned against your shins. Him and Emmy knew each other since the first semester, as you found out. It made you feel weird, knowing that they knew each other for years, while the both of you only met a few months ago.

Nonetheless you enjoyed the evening, and feeling so protected by Taehyung that you didn’t even look at your phone every few minutes out of habit. Therefore, you had no idea what time it was. Only the slowly emerging tiredness told you that it was probably time to go home.

You knew you would sleep well that night. Maybe you would spend the night at Taehyung’s place too – this would be a first.

However, your good mood was abruptly over with one, harmless sentence.

“How do you two know each other anyway?” Emmy looked at you with interest and at first you were perplexed, so surprised at this question that you just sat there stiffly.

Most of the others were engrossed in conversation and didn’t notice this awkward situation. Because what were you supposed to answer? You were not together. You didn’t even know if you wanted to and you had never talked about it in the first place. It had always been kind of clear that there was a sexual attraction between you – but something beyond that?

You couldn’t answer that.

Your gaze flickered to Taehyung for a second. Why didn’t he tell his long time friend about you? She didn’t even know your name… Had Taehyung never mentioned you to his friends before?

You were just getting ready to speak, to make a not very explanatory statement, when Taehyung beat you to it. “We met at a party.” He reached for his glass and took a sip while making a hand gesture between the two of you. “We haven’t known each other that long, just for a few weeks.”

Emmy raised her eyebrows as if she’d expected a different answer – and she wasn’t the only one. She gave you a small smile and turned to Seokjin, who was sitting next to her and, as you had learned that night, was not only the host but also the entertainer of the evening.

You turned your gaze from Seokjin and Emmy back to Taehyung, who was talking across the table with another young man whose name you had already forgotten. It had been too many names for one evening. But what surprised you a little was how quickly Taehyung had pushed the subject aside.

Was that all?

You hadn’t known yourself what you would have answered, but you were sure it would have been more than Taehyung’s answer. Something else.

For the next half hour, you were exceptionally quiet, which Taehyung also noticed. He turned to you and squeezed your knee once, almost affectionately. “Are you tired? Do you want to go home?”

You nodded silently, barely able to look him in the eye. What was wrong with you? As if two sentences had tipped your mood 180 degrees. From one extreme to the other…

When you stepped into the cool summer night, you took the opportunity to take a deep breath. The alcohol and the heat in the living room had clouded your mind. That had to be it.

But even on the way home – to your apartment – your mood didn’t seem to lift. Taehyung’s jokes and casual comments, which would normally make you smile, were exhausting at that moment and you were about to tell him that you could walk the rest of the way on your own.

Then he suddenly stopped as if rooted to the spot and you had to walk a few steps back again. For a moment there was only silence. In the distance you heard shouting and laughter and the occasional car passing you by, bathing you in its warm yellow light.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

A simple question. No simple answer. So you just shrugged your shoulders. “Nothing, why?”

He clicked his tongue in displeasure. “You know I hate games like that.” Even in the darkness, you could see how his lips were pressed into a straight, stern line.

Immediately your heart sank at the sight, making it even harder for you to find an answer and voice your thoughts. Instantly, you wished you had pulled yourself together for the last forty-five minutes. Instead, you were now in a situation you couldn’t easily get out of. At least not without completely throwing your principles overboard, and you just weren’t ready for that yet.

You turned your gaze to the ground and heard Taehyung sigh. A moment later, he took a step closer so that his shoes entered your field of vision. As his hands clasped yours, you flinched, not expecting the sudden touch. An argument was more what you had expected.

“Hey, look at me, please,” he asked, this time in a softer voice. When you did just that, his gaze searched yours, as if trying to read all the answers from your face. But you knew your face was just an expressionless mask, not reflecting the chaos inside you. “What’s wrong? Did I say something wrong?” You stayed silent. “Huh?”

You avoided his gaze and let your hands slip from his grasp. The disappointed look on Taehyung’s face escaped you as you searched the sidewalk for an answer.

“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

That made you look up. “I don’t need your help.” You winced at how cold your voice sounded. But you felt pushed into a corner.

He frowned at your statement. “Okay…” he said and buried his hands in the front pockets of his pants. The hands that had held yours a moment before. He studied your face as if thinking about whether to say the next part or not. Then, “What do you want from me then?”

The question made your heartbeat quicken.

Behause you had no real answer to that. Therefore, you just shook your head.

Taehyung mimicked the movement. “What kind of answer is that, Y/N?”

You shrugged your shoulders and Taehyung sighed, gradually annoyed.

“I feel like I’m talking to a wall right now. And to be honest, I’ve had that feeling for a few days now.”

You had to swallow.

“We’ve never worked out what this is between us,” he began, hesitating briefly, “but maybe it’s about time we talk about it.”

“Why?” Pleadingly, you looked at him. “Why can’t it stay the way it is right now?”

“Because of this.” He made a hand gesture between the two of you. “Because it’s not good for you or for me. I, I have–” He sighed and ruffled his hair in frustration. “I’m just afraid that you and I have different intentions.”

“Different intentions?” you repeated, confused. What was that supposed to mean? “Well, you’ve made it more than clear tonight how you see things between us.”

Taehyung raised both eyebrows when he heard that. “What do you mean?”

You rolled your eyes. Did you really have to explain to him now what was bothering you? “Emmy didn’t even know who I was.”

He let the sentence sink in for a moment before enlightenment spread across his face. “Oh, that’s where that comes from… What would you have wanted to hear? That we’re together? We’re not, are we Y/N?”

“I just don’t understand you,” you said, not responding to him.

“I can say the same back,” he muttered, but you ignored that too.

“All evening you were so… so distant and your friends didn’t even know who I was and how we know each other. Do you know how awkward it was for me when Emmy asked that and then this answer came from you?” You waited a moment, but Taehyung’s lips were pressed tightly together again. “Do you think I didn’t feel the looks from Grace and Yoongi? The–The pity when they heard you just label me as an acquaintance?”

“Oh, is that your problem? Is it so important to you what others think of you?”

You didn’t respond. That was not the reason and he should know it.

“What was I supposed to introduce you as then?” Taehyung raised his voice now, showing just how frustrated he was getting. “Hi guys, this is Y/N by the way. We’ve been fucking for over three months, but I actually know absolutely nothing about her because she pushes me away every fucking time I want to get to know her better. Is that how you want me to introduce you next time?”

His chest rose and fell rapidly as he stood in front of you, completely out of breath, waiting for a reaction.

You had to swallow and turned your gaze to the floor as the corners of your eyes began to burn.

“Yes, I admit,” Taehyung continued, a bit more calmed but still noticeably upset, “I shouldn’t have introduced you as someone I just met at a party. But as what instead? What is this between us? You can’t tell me, and you don’t give me any clue about how you feel… how you feel about me. Sometimes I think you don’t fucking like me at all.”

“That’s not true,” you said meekly, but Taehyung snorted when he heard that.

“Please stop denying that you don’t act like shit towards me. One night everything’s fine between us and the next day you’re back to being so distant as if there’s nothing between us.” You held his gaze, even though you wanted to look away. “And admit to yourself how you feel. For your sake, but also for mine, please. And let me know when you’ve made up your mind, I just can’t take this constant back and forth.”

He took a step back as if he needed some distance from you after his confession. Then he slowly walked past you while you continued to stand rooted to the spot.

“Are you coming?” you heard Taehyung’s voice behind you.

“I can walk the rest by myself.” Your voice sounded weak, as if the conversation just now had drained all your energy.

Taehyung shook his head and nodded in the direction of your student apartment. “I’ll still walk you home. I’m not an asshole.”

If you concentrated, you could see the top of the roof in the distance. But maybe your eyes were playing tricks on you in the darkness. What was certain, though, was that the walk home would be unpleasant and long.

. . .

it’s a fine line between disappointment and anger

You shifted your weight from one foot to the other as your eyes flitted over the passing cars. You were on the lookout for Grace’s neon green old Ford Fiesta, although its eye-catching color made it hard to miss and visible even from a distance. When you took a quick look at your phone to check the time, you realized that you were already waiting for over fifteen minutes.

The others were late.

You tried not to be too irritated about it, even though you couldn’t quite suppress the feeling. After all, you had taken a cab to get to the location, which was so far out of town. By train it would have been a big detour and a long walk afterwards, so you had bitten the bullet and spent the money on a cab. Even though you couldn’t deny that you almost cancelled when you found out how far out the location was.

And you knew all too well the reason why you had come after all.

You just hoped that Grace and Yoongi would give you a ride on the way back, so you wouldn’t have to pay for a cab again.

You were about to reach into your jacket pocket for your phone again when you suddenly saw something green flashing in the distance.

“Finally,” you muttered. You watched as Grace pulled into the parking lot and drove around the corner a little too fast before the car came to a stop in a parking space.

“Sorry!” it echoed across the lot, barely after the driver’s side door was yanked open. “We’re late.”

Grace came rushing to you and gave you a quick hug. As she did so, you noticed how out of breath she was, and instantly your little pang of annoyance was gone. “We still had to pick up Taehyung and Natalie.”

Natalie?

You tried not to flinch at the unfamiliar name. However, you didn’t even need to ask who this Natalie was because at that moment a girl got out of the car and brushed the non-existing dirt off her tight black jeans. Your gaze was so fixed on her that you didn’t even notice Taehyung, who had also gotten out of the car.

Only when he was just a few meters away from you and Grace did you notice him. You couldn’t help but let your eyes glide over his body. It had been a long time since you had seen Taehyung in jeans, when he usually wore wide-leg pants. You couldn’t deny how outrageously handsome he looked in the light blue jeans and plain black T-shirt that revealed his tanned arms. You wondered if he’d done something with friends last weekend and been out in the sun a lot.

You felt an unpleasant tingling on your skin and turned your attention back to the strange girl who pierced you with her gaze. It surprised you that no one else noticed her deadly stare, but that’s when she briefly narrowed her eyes and averted her eyes from you. Like a snake, which gave its warning before attacking if you didn’t back away. The message was clear, even if you didn’t understand what she had to fear.

Taehyung and you, that was a closed book. Briefly flipped through it and then put back on the shelf. There, where it belonged and where it should preferably never be taken out again.

You hadn’t checked in for the past four weeks, and instead had locked yourself in your small dorm room preparing for exams. This had distracted you during the day, but at night you had often stayed awake. Your finger had hovered over the chat with Taehyung countless times before you had changed your mind at the last moment.

It didn’t work. It wouldn’t work.

Something inside you was still resisting, but now you didn’t have to act surprised if Taehyung had had enough of waiting. You had never been together. It was probably not difficult for him to move on.

And you had given him every right to do so.

But then why did your heart tighten as you looked back and forth between Taehyung and Natalie?

“Let’s go in, it’s all going off of our time,” said Yoongi, who was the last to join you. With a nod and a quick smile, he greeted you before you walked together towards the front gate. The path to the small, ground-floor building was sandy, and lost in thought, you kicked a few small stones in front of you that were lying on the side of the path.

“We needed one more person,” Grace snapped you out of your thoughts.

Confused, you looked up.

“To play paintball,” she elaborated when she saw your puzzled look and nodded in the direction of Natalie, who was laughing at something Taehyung had said. She then punched him in the shoulder and he pretended to stagger far away before laughing as well. Just a few weeks ago, you had been the one laughing at his jokes. “It needs five players minimum, at least that’s what the website said.”

“Sure,” you replied, even though you had barely listened to Grace. You didn’t care about the reason Natalie was here. You wished that you had chosen to stay home. But there was nothing you could do about it now, and you definitely wouldn’t bring down anyone’s mood.

So you put on a smile and hoped it would come easier in the next hours.

It didn’t take long at the reception, thankfully, so you were soon queuing up to borrow the equipment. During the induction training, your fingers nervously ran along the frame of the visor of your helmet that you had to wear. Purely precautionary, because the head was off limits, a paintball company employee explained to you.

“There is also another rule,” the employee explained in a firm voice that indicated that he had told this text dozens, if not hundreds, of times before. “Or let’s say good etiquette. If you’re close to someone and the person hasn’t seen you,” he paused dramatically and you wondered if this pause had been in his script or if he’d added it over time, “don’t shoot the person, say ‘Bang!’ instead. Even if they’re just little hardened gelatine balls, they can really hurt when shot at such close range. So don’t be assholes and take care of each other.”

Scattered laughter rippled through the three groups receiving instruction with you. As your eyes slid back to the staff member to hear if he had more to explain, they lingered on Taehyung and Natalie. Natalie signalled Taehyung with her index finger to her lips that they should listen. As she did so, however, her lips twisted into a grin and from the short distance you could hear her soft laughter.

Oh now you couldn’t wait to get on the field.

. . .

You hid behind a small wooden hut in the fenced area. As you tried to calm your breathing, you checked the end of the gun to see how many of the little colored bullets were left before sighing quietly in frustration.

You scanned your surroundings as you scrambled back to your feet, but there was no sign of Natalie. She was responsible for your team’s ammunition, and no sooner had the round begun against a group of strangers than she had apparently made it her goal to stay hidden not only from your opponents, but from her own teammates as well. You hadn’t seen her the entire round so far, and if you didn’t have a deep-seated grudge against her, you’d almost be impressed.

You were jolted out of your thoughts when you suddenly heard a dull stomping behind you in the house. The hut was small, perhaps two square meters, and consisted only of thin wooden boards nailed together. As quietly as you could, you turned around and tried to make out something through the small slit between the wood, but even as you squinted your eye, you couldn’t see anything except for the floor.

Suddenly, you heard something behind you.

You whirled around and raised your gun at the same moment, aiming it right at the young man who was just sneaking around the corner of the house and was about to surprise you.

You looked at each other perplexed for a moment before he turned his gun away from you and held up his free hand.

“I think we’re both out, aren’t we?” he laughed, and you agreed, smiling.

He helped you to your feet and you went to join the others, who were also hit and waited outside the area until the round was over. You were surprised that Natalie and Taehyung were the only ones left from your team.

When Grace spotted you, she threw her arms up in the air in disappointment. “Oh no! I think we’re losing this round.”

Yoongi stifled a grin at the pure disappointment in his girlfriend’s voice before putting an arm around her shoulders. Grace unconsciously rubbed her side, and as you moved to stand next to her, you asked, “Is that where it hit you?”

She looked down in wonder, where her hand was still rubbing the presumably sore spot, before nodding. “Those things really hurt, don’t you think?”

You shrugged. “I didn’t get hit. It was more of a mutual elimination.” You glanced to the side and saw the young man from the other team standing alone. His remaining team seemed not to have been hit yet.

No sooner had this thought crossed your mind than two unknown men suddenly joined you. Their faces reflected frustration and disappointment. Your eyes widened when you saw the countless paint splatters on their clothes.

“What happened to you guys?” laughed the other man when he noticed it too.

But the two didn’t answer him, instead they looked in your direction.

“Not a bad tactic,” one said, and the other nodded.

You were glad that Grace and Yoongi were as clueless as you were when Grace asked, “What tactic?”

“You guys completely overran us with all the bullets two of your team members had. We didn’t expect that at all.”

Grace muttered something unintelligible and the two men joined their teammate.

“You didn’t get any ammunition from Natalie either?” you asked in amazement, firmly expecting to be the only one who hadn’t seen Natalie.

But the other two shook their heads and Grace rolled her eyes. “I don’t know what her problem is. If I had known beforehand what a bitch she was, I would have told Taehyung to take someone else with him.”

Yoongi grumbled in agreement. “Taehyung’s taste in women is questionable.”

An uncomfortable silence settled over you like a heavy blanket. You didn’t miss Yoongi’s panicked glance in your direction, nor Grace’s elbow, which landed in Yoongi’s side.

“Sorry, Y/N… I didn’t mean that,” he apologized, but you shook your head and forced a smile.

“It’s okay.”

But was it really?

The awkward silence was interrupted by a loud roar and cheer, and a little later the last four from the fenced area joined you. Two of them reflected exactly the emotion that the two men before had as well, while the other two were in each other’s arms, cheering and laughing loudly, and almost stumbling into each other.

“We won!” Natalie announced, grinning broadly and visibly proud.

You didn’t need to look in Taehyung’s direction to notice that he was happy, too. You could hear it in the deep laughter that reached your ears.

But over their joy, they didn’t seem to notice that no one was rejoicing with them. A quick sideways glance at Grace told you how pissed off she was getting. To keep the situation from escalating, you stepped in.

As calm and relaxed as you could, you said, “Maybe you’d like to give us some of that ammunition, too, in the next round.”

Natalie’s laughter died away, leaving behind an ugly grinning grimace. With raised eyebrows, she looked at you and took a step toward you. “It worked, didn’t it?” She paused. “Y/N.” She literally spat your name at your feet. “Or did it hurt that much when you got hit? Oh no, little baby.” She raised her hand and pinched your cheek like grandparents used to do with little kids. With a quick movement, you pushed her hand aside.

“Ever heard of teamwork?” interfered Yoongi, who also took a step forward, easily getting between you and Natalie. You were grateful for the distance between you.

Natalie’s challenging gaze was on you for a moment longer before she turned her attention to Yoongi. “Don’t be such killjoys, geez. We won, that’s all that matters.”

The discussion between Yoongi, Grace, and Natalie passed by you as your gaze slid to Taehyung. Your heart stopped for a second as your eyes met for the first time this day. You tried to find something in his gaze, an answer perhaps. An answer as to how you could drift apart in such a short time. And an answer to why on earth he had had to bring Natalie with him.

Yet you knew the answer, and you knew you had no one to blame but yourself. Even though it had never been anything serious between you, Taehyung had given you the chance that it could have possibly become something more. If you had been brave enough. If you had admitted your feelings.

If…

If you had given each other and yourself a chance.

You had to avert your gaze and turned it to the ground instead. When you looked up again after a few seconds, Taehyung had turned his attention back to Natalie, who was still discussing with Grace.

“Hey,” one of the men from the other group interrupted the argument, “Do you guys feel like swapping through?”

“Sure,” Natalie replied without waiting for a response from the others first. “Why not?”

“I want those two on the team, though,” you heard one of the men say quietly to his buddy before his gaze shifted to Natalie and Taehyung. The other one laughed and that reaction made the blood boil inside you.

But that’s how it was decided before any of you three even had a chance to protest. Grace didn’t look like she was too sad about being on Natalie’s opposing team, though, and you were glad to know at least her and Yoongi were by your side. In addition to the two of them, you were joined rather reluctantly by the young man you had eliminated and one of the two who had been eliminated last in the round before.

Grace chatted with the two on her way to a new area, but you didn’t feel like talking. Usually you took the opportunity to meet new people, but today it kind of drained your energy. Either that or it was the annoying shrill laughter that could be heard every few seconds. Your ears were hurting by now.

“Wow, how cool!” Grace marveled as you walked through a large gate to the new area. And you too could only look around with your mouth open over the large plaza full of cars. At least you suspected that they were cars under the thick layer of paint, since they were barely visible. In the middle of the square diagonally stood a bus, which probably marked about half of the area. You could also make out an RV in the distance and many smaller cars scattered around.

“You can hide in the cars, by the way,” one of the men from the other group gave you a hint.

“Are you guys here often?” asked Yoongi with interest and the other nodded.

He raised his gun, which looked different from the one you were holding. “Custom-made, we all have our own equipment.”

“Of course you do,” Grace muttered and you had to laugh. “Shhh, don’t laugh,” Grace whispered, but had to laugh as well. The fact that your laughter didn’t please one person at all escaped you at that moment.

“Okay, we’ll each start from one side,” one of the two on your team announced, and you began to spread out across the course. More than once you almost slipped on the ground, which had become slippery from the layer of paint. You barely managed to hold on to the outside mirror of a car. A thick layer of paint remained on your hand and you grimaced as you wiped it off on your pants.

At least you had thought ahead and taken a change of clothes with you.

You looked at the RV that was in your area and before you could weigh the pros and cons, your legs had already carried you there out of pure curiosity. Quietly you opened the door to the interior and carefully closed it again behind you.

Even the interior was not spared from paint splatters, but there was much less in here than outside. You continued to look around the dark room, which was only sparsely lit because the windows were also covered in paint from outside.

“Shit,” you muttered as you realized what a bad idea that had been. You couldn’t see what was happening outside, and there was no place to hide in here either. The benches and kitchenette had been ripped out and only the small cubicle where you thought the toilet was, was still there.

With a sigh, you turned and reached toward the door to go back outside, when suddenly you heard voices. You couldn’t make out who it was or if it was someone from your team, but you couldn’t take the risk.

Cursing, you lowered your hand again and walked quietly but briskly toward the small cabin. You winced when the rotten wood squeaked as you opened the door, but continued with your plan. Not that you had a choice. In the darkness, you were able to make out that the toilet had also been ripped out, making it just a tiny, empty room.

You shut the door and squatted on the floor. Straining your ears, you tried to hear something, but except for your breathing, which seemed uncomfortably loud under your helmet, you couldn’t hear anything. Adrenaline coursed through your veins and your ears picked up every little sound.

Had that been the door to the RV?

You tried to make yourself a little smaller.

“I swear, I saw her go in here.”

The blood froze in your veins as you recognized the deep voice. You didn’t know why, but it hurt to hear that Taehyung had betrayed you just like that. And you didn’t need laser vision to know who was alongside Taehyung.

A second later, the door was yanked open.

Your eyes narrowed as you had to look at the sudden light that fell through the door, illuminating the person in front of you from behind. You only heard them laugh, which sounded somewhat muffled by the helmet and visor, before you heard a loud clack and a second later felt a sudden pain in your upper arm.

Before you understood what had happened, the sequence repeated itself two more times. A bullet bounced off the wall and hit you in the back of the head. You flinched as a sharp pain shot through you and instinctively grabbed the back of your head. Even in the dark you could see your fingers were yellow from the paint.

“Oh oops,” you heard Natalie laugh, “Bang.”

She giggled even as you scrambled to your feet and pushed past her. She didn’t step aside, not until your shoulder made hard contact with hers and she stumbled to the side.

“Ugh, someone can’t lose, I guess.”

Jumping out of the RV and almost running into Taehyung, you froze on the spot for a moment. Not a word came out of him and after a few moments you just gave a cool short laugh before shaking your head and walking towards the edge of the area.

The back of your head hurt and as you ran your fingers through your hair again, you winced, noticing how the color was already gluing them together. A curse stuck in your throat, but you tried not to let it out. Once you started, you wouldn’t be able to stop.

“We’re really bad,” Grace laughed when she caught sight of you. But you shook your head in response and silently walked past her. “Is everything okay?” One foot in front of the other. “Y/N?”

Her questions fell silent when you were finally far enough away. You went straight to the lockers and reached for your bag. The sudden jerk caused it to snag on the metal of the locker, which only made you pull on it more furiously. A few seconds of mindless pulling later, you let it go. As you brushed your palms over your face, you noticed how your hands were shaking.

So you forced yourself to take a few deep breaths before slowly grabbing the handles of your bag again. This time you immediately managed to pull it out of the compartment. The locker slammed shut behind you as you made your way towards the changing rooms.

. . .

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay with you?” Grace asked you this question for the third time and for the third time you nodded.

You said your thanks to the staff member who held out an ice pack to you and immediately you held it to the back of your head. By the time you had changed your clothes, you had already noticed the dark red spots where you had been hit and which would surely be blue by tomorrow at the latest. When you had pulled your sweatshirt over your head, you had noticed the thick and painful bump on your head.

“I really appreciate this, Grace, that you’re offering to wait with me,” you explained, “but you paid for this and you had fun, so I don’t want to spoil it for you.”

“You’re not spoiling anything for me,” came back the prompt reply. Grace was still holding your free hand as if she was afraid you were getting the next cab home at any moment. And to be honest, you would like nothing better than that right now.

Still, you rolled your eyes. “Come on,” you said, nodding behind her.

Yoongi was just heading your way, with a questioning look on his face. “What happened?”

Grace started to answer, but you beat her to it. “I got hit, nothing bad.”

But Grace grunted contemptuously. “Natalie shot her in the back of her head.”

“It wasn’t on purpose.” You didn’t want to defend her because you knew the two hits before that had definitely been on purpose. But you also knew that the hit to your head had been bad luck.

“Does it hurt much?” Yoongi didn’t join the discussion, but remained diplomatic. You gave him credit for that. Your head hurt enough as it was, you didn’t need another unnecessary argument.

In response, you shrugged your shoulders and pressed the cold pack harder against your head, closing your eyes briefly.

“Do you want one of us to stay here?”

“Not you too,” you groaned, and when you opened your eyes again, you caught sight of Natalie and Taehyung, who also joined you at that moment.

“Oh,” Natalie said, barely standing next to Grace, “you changed your clothes, Y/N,” she remarked as she looked down at you.

Grace’s grip on your hand tightened and you saw her jaw tighten.

Then you turned your gaze to Natalie. There was not an ounce of remorse or pity in her gaze. “Yeah, I’m out. Completely for today.”

“Oh no, what a shame!”

Taehyung on the other hand was exceptionally quiet right now and didn’t say a word. And you didn’t have the strength to look up and see the same look you saw a few minutes ago.

“Well, that’s just the way it is. Shall we keep playing?”

No one said a word and the uncomfortable silence increased by the second.

“Go on,” you said, squeezing Grace’s hand, “go on playing without me.” You gave her a significant look and Grace’s eyes widened briefly before a knowing smile spread across her face.

“Okay, let’s go!” she said euphorically, jumping to her feet. Then she pulled Yoongi by the hand with her.

Natalie didn’t take the invitation twice either and followed the two of them. Only when she had walked a few meters did she stop in wonder and look back at Taehyung, who hadn’t moved an inch. “Are you coming, Tae?”

You couldn’t hold back your bitter grin when you heard the nickname. When you looked up, Taehyung’s gaze was right on the floor in front of you. “Come on, Tae,” you said, and at your voice your eyes met, “your girlfriend’s calling you.”

Taehyung’s answer came directly without hesitation and his voice was cold as he said, “She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Just like I’ve never been your girlfriend? Is that the same between you two?”

“That’s not fair, Y/N… You were the one who didn’t talk to me for four weeks. It was as if you had completely disappeared from the face of the earth.”

He looked at you silently, his lips pressed into a straight line. He shook his head ever so slightly before turning and following the others without another word. You had to admit that you felt some gloating when he ignored Natalie’s outstretched hand and followed Yoongi and Grace without paying any attention to her.

. . .

“You should have seen her face,” Grace laughed, quickly covering her mouth when she realized how loudly she had spoken. You stood in front of the locker while Grace pushed her water bottle into her bag. Wordlessly, Yoongi held his dirty clothes out to her and with a roll of her eyes, she grabbed them and stuffed them into the bag as well. “Next time, bring your own bag.”

“Hm-hm,” Yoongi muttered, already having turned his attention to something else.

You exited the building and headed toward the parking lot. You looked over your shoulder, where you recognized Taehyung and Natalie a few feet away from you. The two didn’t say a word to each other and silently followed you.

“What happened?” you asked quietly as you turned to face forward again. You couldn’t deny that the mood between the two of them seemed tense, while Grace walked beside you almost jumping for joy.

“She realized it hurts when you get hit.”

Immediately your head snapped to her, “Oh God, what did you do?”

But Grace shook her head and you could see a slight smile on Yoongi’s face. “Not me.” She gave you a meaningful look that you couldn’t interpret. Or wanted to. “Taehyung.”

“Taehyung?” You were confused. “Weren’t they on the same team?”

“Apparently he got tired of her,” Yoongi said, and he too looked at you for a moment too long.

“And that’s not the only thing,” Grace directly followed up when Yoongi hadn’t even finished speaking, “He accidentally called her Nicole. She hasn’t spoken to him since.”

“Admittedly, he didn’t really talk to her before either.”

You had to swallow. Suddenly a fat lump had settled in your throat, making it hard for you to make a sound. Only when you cleared your throat did you start to speak. “Can we talk about something else?”

For a moment neither of them said anything and you felt the eyes of both on you. You had yours, however, focused on the floor in front of you. Grace was just starting to speak when suddenly a shadow appeared next to you in the corner of your eye. You looked up in surprise and were even more surprised to see Taehyung next to you.

He didn’t say a word, but just walked beside you. You opened your mouth, but you didn’t know what to say. Especially not in front of Grace and Yoongi. And in front of Natalie, whose footsteps you heard right behind you.

And was there anything to say at all? Or would all the effort be for nothing and just a little too late?

You eyed him from the side, letting your gaze glide over his tousled and windblown hair, over his nose and his lips. The lips, which formed slightly downward and the eyebrows, which he had pinched together in thought.

It seemed as if he noticed your stare, because suddenly he looked up and when your eyes met every trace of strain disappeared. A brief smile spread across his face before he turned his gaze forward again.

Arriving at the car, you tried to make yourself as small as possible in the middle seat so that your leg wouldn’t keep bumping into Taehyung’s as Grace rounded a corner. Your heart had been pounding up to your throat ever since you felt the heat radiating from him and taking over you completely. Your skin tingled and again and again your gaze slid to his hand, which he had placed on his knee. It needed only a small movement of your hand and you would be able to grasp it. You wondered if he would withdraw his hand or allow–

You quickly turned your gaze to the other side. But it was no better there. Natalie barely gave you room, which didn’t make your predicament with Taehyung any better. She stared wordlessly out the window since you got into the car and paid no attention to the conversations in the car.

Even though there wasn’t that much attention to pay there, because every attempt Grace made to start a conversation was met with a wall of awkward silence. A few short sentences, Taehyung, Yoongi and you returned before the conversation died again. On top of that, you felt Grace’s eyes on you through the rearview mirror every few seconds. You didn’t need to be able to read minds to understand that you were supposed to talk to Taehyung.

The next time your eyes met, you tried to shake your head as inconspicuously as possible.

This was not the right time.

Grace shook her head… and drove a little too fast around the next curve.

You managed to suppress the surprised yelp, but couldn’t keep your balance, so you fell into Taehyung’s lap. Your hand came into contact with his thigh, which you tried to brace yourself against.

“Oh,” Grace laughed, and you gave her an evil glare through the driver’s seat, “I guess I was a little too fast. Sorry.”

“Are you okay?” Taehyung’s deep voice startled you. You felt his strong hand on your shoulder and slowly he pulled you back upright.

“Yeah, sorry,” you apologized and your cheeks burned. Damn, Grace…

“Don’t worry about it. Nothing happened.”

But something did happen, just not the way Taehyung was thinking at that moment.

. . .

scary love

Your heart was pounding loudly in your chest; so hard it almost hurt. Your gaze slid from your perfectly applied makeup to your top, and you stared at the spot under your left breast for a moment, sure that you could see your heart beating. You shook your head and took one deep breath before grabbing your bag, throwing on a jacket and leaving your room.

The hustle and bustle of the city drowned out your noisy thoughts as you made your way to the apartment of the house party. When Grace had approached you about the party yesterday and asked if you were coming, your thoughts had inevitably drifted straight to Taehyung. The last time you had gone out at night was when you and Taehyung had had your fight. Even though that was nearly a month and a half ago, it seemed like it was only a few days ago.

But it wasn’t just your thoughts that had drifted straight to him.

As you got off the bus and walked the rest of the way, Grace’s expression came back to your mind. The much-important pause that had followed her question and right before her hesitant “Taehyung will be there too.”

You wondered if it would always be like this from now on. That you would have to be forewarned if there was a chance that you might run into each other.

You hoped that this would not be your future. That you could have a clarifying conversation with him tonight. And that he was at the party at all. You didn’t even want to think about the fact that you came to the party today for nothing.

The thumping bass and sweaty heat met you as you entered the house. Immediately, your eyes scanned the various guests as you walked through the different rooms on the first floor. Your heart stopped a few times as you thought you spotted Taehyung, only to be disappointed when it was someone else.

You were still a little scared that you seemed to feel so strongly about Taehyung. You didn’t want to imagine the pain if Taehyung rejected you. After all, he had been relatively cryptic in his statements, and even if… you had taken a few weeks to make your decision. The situation with Natalie still hadn’t left your mind. What if he showed up again today with another girl?

Your thoughts raced and your gaze darted through the crowd until finally someone entered your field of vision and you looked up slightly.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Grace looked at you with wide eyes and you were sure your nervousness was showing.

“Yes,” you answered her, your voice sounding breathless. Just like how you felt. “Have you seen Taehyung?”

Grace stifled a smile, but the corners of her mouth twitched up suspiciously, betraying her.

“He’s coming along with Yoongi. The two of them should be on their way.” She glanced at her phone and nodded once more in agreement with her statement. “Oh, Yoongi just texted that they arrived.”

Your heart skipped a beat and the nervousness became almost unbearable all at once. Nausea spread through you and you gratefully accepted the drink Grace held out to you, which you only now noticed. As you took a generous sip of it, you realized it was water.

“Thank you, Grace.”

“I thought it would be better if you worked this out sober.” She smiled at you encouragingly, but suddenly her eyes fell on something behind you. You were afraid to turn around because you knew exactly who must have come up behind you. You could see it in Grace’s smile and you inevitably wondered if you were looking at Taehyung like that. Or if he was looking at you like that.

But when Yoongi came up beside you, you couldn’t continue to stand rooted to the spot. You turned your head to the side and Taehyung’s gaze was already on you. For a moment, you stared at each other as if you were having a telepathic conversation. Then a small smile spread on Taehyung’s lips and you felt yourself relax abruptly.

“Hey,” his deep voice greeted you.

“Hi.” You didn’t notice Grace and Yoongi giving each other meaningful looks before they unobtrusively walked away from you and left you alone. You were too focused on Taehyung, on his face and his smile. He looked handsome, his T-shirt tucked into his dark pants, and at his neck you could make out a fine silver chain, its pendant disappearing under his T-shirt.

You had missed him. And you were glad to see him again.

And as you studied his expression, hope spread through you that he might felt the same way.

“Shall we–”, “Do you want–”, you started talking at the same time and you suppressed an eye roll as you laughed softly.

“Please,” he let you go first with that boxy smile you had missed so much.

You took a deep breath and laid out the words you’d been thinking about for the past few days. “Do you want to talk somewhere that might be a little quieter?”

Taehyung nodded without thinking twice. “Shall we go to my place? I’m here by car.”

Surprised, you raised your eyebrows. “By car? But you just got here, right? And since when do you have a car?”

His smile changed, taking on a hint of… was that embarrassment? “Well, I didn’t come here for the party.” Now he was grinning fully at you. “And Yoongi lent me his car.”

The words got stuck in your throat and you were incapable of more than a smile.

“Shall we?”

As you nodded, Taehyung led you through the crowd back to the front door. Every few seconds he looked over his shoulder to make sure you hadn’t lost him and were still behind him.

But you wouldn’t let him out of your sight again.

Silently, you walked to Taehyung’s car, but this time the silence was not uncomfortable. Instead, there was a certain tension in the air, as if you were both nervous about the upcoming conversation. No matter how it turned out, something would definitely change for you.

As the doors slammed shut loudly, the sound snapped you out of your thoughts. All at once, you realized how close you were to Taehyung. His right hand was on the gear stick as he put the car in reverse and pulled out of the parking space. You couldn’t help but watch him as he expertly pulled the car onto the road.

“Are you just going to stare at me the whole time, or do you want to talk as well?” Taehyung’s grin showed you that he was just teasing you because he had noticed your stare.

“Sorry,” you returned with a soft laugh, turning your gaze to the road ahead of you instead.

“How are you?”

Normally, you hated that question. It was a filler for awkward pauses when you didn’t know what to say. But at that moment, it was different. You knew that Taehyung was genuinely interested in how you were doing and that his question hinted at more than it showed at first glance. A question whose deeper meaning only the two of you knew.

Therefore, you pondered for a moment how best to answer this question. You decided to tell the truth. Finally. “I… could be better.”

“Oh?” Taehyung tilted his head and gave you a quick sideways glance.

Your gaze was on your feet as you continued to explain. “I’ve been pretty bothered by everything… All this between us I mean.”

“Hm-hm.”

“And I wanted to apologize.”

“Apologize?” Taehyung sounded seriously surprised. “For what?”

You sighed and let your head fall back against the headrest. “For treating you like that… I didn’t know what I wanted myself, and I expected you to know. That was unfair.”

Taehyung let your words run through his mind. “And do you know what you want now?” In one move, he parked in front of his apartment and turned off the engine.

You waited until he pulled the key out of the ignition and looked at you. “Yes.”

“And what’s that?” Taehyung’s voice was little more than a whisper, so soft that it was meant only for your ears. Afraid that if it left that small space of the car, that your mind would change again.

But it wouldn’t anytime soon. Rarely had you felt as sure as you did at that moment.

“Can we discuss this upstairs?”

Nervously, you followed him up the two flights of stairs, the mixture of your racing heart and exertion making you gasp a little as Taehyung unlocked his apartment.

“Would you like something to drink? Coffee, tea, water… I also have that lemonade you like so much.” His voice grew more distant as he disappeared into the kitchen. You heard dishes and bottles clinking as you waited uncertainly in the hallway until Taehyung finally stepped out of the kitchen with two bottles and you went into the living room.

No matter how you sat on the small sofa, you couldn’t stay still and had to change your position every few seconds. Legs crossed, once left leg up, then right leg. Then both feet on the floor, once half bent on the sofa–

Until Taehyung finally put a hand on your knee, forcing you to rest. A small smile played around his lips as he sought and finally found your gaze. “I’ve never seen you this nervous before,” he remarked, leaning back again after making sure you stayed in one position for now.

You exhaled before taking a sip of the lemonade and placing the bottle back on the coffee table. Your hands shook as you placed them folded back together in your lap. You heard the quiet whirring of Taehyung’s Playstation, which he never shut off, and which had already become a welcoming sound. It seemed almost ridiculous to you that you had missed that.

You cleared your throat and slid back and forth on the sofa again before finally getting to speak. You were so engrossed in your own thoughts that you didn’t notice how nervous Taehyung himself was and how he was hanging spellbound on your lips, hoping that you would finally give him an explanation.

“I’ve had a lot of time the last few weeks to think about… well, to think about the weeks before that. The paintball game in particular has given me a lot to think about.”

“I still wanted to apologize for that,” Taehyung added, “Nadine was really out of line. I shouldn’t have brought her.”

You grunted before you could hold it back, but decided not to comment on his mistake. Instead, you asked, “Then why did you? How do you even know her?”

Now Taehyung was shifting back and forth a little uneasily. “I know her from a few parties. She approached me shortly after that fight we had…”

The question hung in the air, but still, you had to have certainty.

“Was there something going on between you two?”

Taehyung hesitated to answer and you felt your heart sink.

Then he sighed. “We kissed, made out a little before I stopped. When Yoongi asked me if I knew anyone else we could take to the paintball game, she offered coming. I thought it would be a good idea to… um, well–”

“Were you trying to make me jealous?” you interrupted him, raising an eyebrow.

Taehyung nodded and rubbed the back of his neck with the flat of his hand, slightly embarrassed. “I know that’s stupid and childish. But I was just still so mad at you–at me, at both of us to be honest. You’d been so absent-minded with me, I just wanted to see some kind of reaction from you.”

“I’m sure you saw one,” you muttered, turning your gaze to the gray carpet.

“Yes, but not the one I wanted,” Taehyung returned, also muttering. “I never wanted you to get hurt. That’s what I told her as well.” There was silence between the two of you for a moment and you heard Taehyung take a deep breath. “I haven’t been in contact with her since, if you’re interested.”

You weighed his statement before nodding slowly and turning your gaze back to him. “You can have contact with whomever you want, Taehyung,” you began, and he started to contradict you, but you raised your hand, wanting to finish your sentence, “but I don’t want to tell you what to do and what not to do. Who you should have contact with and with whom you shouldn’t. If we start with such stories, we’ll get into a spiral again. But thank you for telling me honestly what happened between you.”

Taehyung waited a moment to see if you had finished talking before it rushed out of him. “I didn’t end it with her because I was afraid of what you would think about it. In the first place, there was never anything between us that could have been ended, and secondly, that was entirely a decision for myself. And I wanted to be fair to her. I know what it’s like to just be a replacement for someone and how shitty this feels. I didn’t want to do that to anyone else.”

“I didn’t know anyone had ever hurt you like that.”

Taehyung laughed softly as he recalled, and you were glad that the memory no longer seemed to cause him pain. You still had to work on that yourself, letting bygones be bygones and not projecting your experiences onto other people, other men.

“In my junior year… I can’t remember her name,” Taehyung began to tell, “I was fully into puberty and she was the first girl I really liked. You must know that I used to be quite the nerd.” He softly laughed about himself when he remembered that.

“A nerd? Pfft.” Looking at Taehyung now, with his wide black pants, muscular upper arms showing under his white T-shirt, and his whole aura radiating, you found it hard to imagine.

“Hey, don’t pfft me,” he complained, “I cared a lot about good grades and she noticed that. Of course, back then, I gratefully accepted any chance to do something with her. Even if it consisted of me doing her homework while she sat on her phone, probably texting her friends about how boring I was.”

“Ouch. That’s almost exactly like all those teen movies from back in the day.”

“And I was the poor nerd that the whole school made fun of behind his back.”

From the way Taehyung said this, you knew he wasn’t exaggerating. Your hand twitched as you reached for his hand, but you were unsure how far to go. Whether your touch was appropriate and, more importantly, welcome.

But he had seen that small movement and reached for your hand. Your fingers intertwined as if they were made for it and you wondered if that was the first time you held hands like that. At that moment, you couldn’t imagine a more intimate gesture.

“I changed schools my senior year and graduated. A fresh new start, so to speak.”

“I know what that feels like,” you agreed, nodding, and he smiled at you gratefully. His fingers painted small circles on the back of your hand and the skin touched by his fingertips began to tingle.

“It wasn’t an easy time for me, if I’m honest,” he continued, “I didn’t make any friends in my last year because most of the groups had already formed and I felt like it wasn’t worth it for most of them to make another friendship for that one year. But I could have tried harder. So I was glad when I was out of school.”

You tilted your head in wonder. “I thought you liked school?”

Taehyung threw you a small smile. “There’s a difference between liking learning and liking school. I always wanted to get good grades, even if that girl spoiled it for me a bit. Crashed a little bit after that, and really all I enjoyed was drawing and painting. I was glad that the university accepted me at all with my final grades. Because that’s not what a lot of people think, that you need good grades to study art.” Taehyung rolled his eyes and shook his head, laughing softly.

“Is that what you want to do? Being a painter?”

Taehyung thought about it for a moment. You could tell that he had a profession on the tip of his tongue, but seemed unsure of how you would respond. You squeezed his hand once so he would continue.

“I mean, there are many professions,” he began to explain, “I can stay at a university after graduation and pass on my knowledge to others. I think that’s pretty cool.”

You waited a moment, but Taehyung seemed to be pondering his thoughts. “But?” you asked because of that, and he turned his attention back to you.

“My dream is to open my own gallery. To support small artists and bring their voices to the public. And, of course, to exhibit myself, that would be awesome.”

“Do you have some paintings here?”

He looked at you like you’d asked a totally crazy question. And maybe you had. Sometimes you lived in your own world full of books from centuries ago that you felt a little detached from the present time.

Taehyung let your hand slip from his and got up from the sofa. He went to the large cabinet that took up almost the entire opposite wall, pulled open a drawer, and began rummaging through it. After a few moments, he seemed to have found what he was looking for.

When he came back to you, he had a large drawing pad in his hand, which he held out to you. With careful fingers you took the A2 large pad from him. The first small loose sketches fell into your hand as you opened the pad. Immediately your jaw dropped as you took your first look at what probably represented Taehyung’s most intimate thoughts and feelings.

You recognized many black and white sketch-like drawings that, at least you assumed, must have been painted with charcoal. It seemed like he had been studying different facial expressions, and that was a theme that ran through many of his drawings. Even your untrained eye could see that Taehyung placed a lot of emphasis on the expressions of his models. Anger, annoyance, sadness, more rarely happiness… you kept turning the pages and suddenly the drawing in front of you looked familiar. Or rather, the person who was drawn looked familiar.

It was you.

You looked up in surprise and met Taehyung’s waiting gaze. It seemed like he was reading every reaction on your face.

“Some people don’t like it when you draw them,” he explained.

You searched for the right words as you continued to flip through it and saw another drawing of yourself. In the background you saw sketchy hints of other people, and you wondered if this was supposed to be the night of the party when you two had first met.

Your index finger gently stroked the fine pencil lines. “This is how you see me?” Your voice was no more than a whisper. Your eyes fell on the date, written very small in the corner of the picture. You weren’t quite sure, but you believed that the picture had been taken on the very day after the party.

“What do you mean?”

Your gaze fell back to the drawing. The drawing strokes were deliberate and skillfully placed, as if he had done it a thousand times before. Only in the region of the face could you see eraser marks, and as you stroked over them, Taehyung laughed softly.

“It took me forever to get your face right,” he admitted, also letting his gaze slide over the paper in your hands.

“It turned out beautifully,” you breathed.

Taehyung looked up from the drawing and eyed your face for a moment before the corners of his mouth twitched upward. “Still, nothing like the original. Nothing comes close to that.”

You rolled your eyes when you heard that, but had to laugh softly. His comment reminded you of the night of the party. Already there he had been able to convince you, to your surprise, with his bad and exaggerated comments. You would have ignored anyone else, but even then you had given him a chance.

No matter what Taehyung said or did, he always made you feel that he meant it one hundred percent. And that was what set him apart from many men your age.

And that was the reason you were here.

Gently, you closed the sketchpad and placed it on the coffee table in front of you. “So,” you began, leaning back again until your back touched the backrest. Even though you looked relaxed from the outside, excitement and nervousness raged inside you. “What is this between us?”

Taehyung also leaned back and turned slightly to the side so that your knees were almost touching. With every second that Taehyung said nothing, the tension grew.

Then he cleared his throat and you flinched, so tense you were. “Hmm,” he began, studying your face. “There can be everything and nothing between us.”

You suppressed a snort, and instead a muffled sound of disapproval came out.

A smirk spread across his face when he heard it, before he leaned forward.

“Is that answer not acceptable to you?” His grin revealed that he knew exactly what you wanted to hear.

Needed to hear.

Because still your heart was beating up to your throat, afraid that you would get hurt. But luck was with the brave, right?

So you shook your head. No, you were not satisfied with his answer.

You also leaned forward so that you braced your elbows on your knees. Now there were only a few inches between you and Taehyung. You imagined even feeling his breath lightly on your face. Then you said, so softly that it was almost swallowed by the silence around you, “I want more than what we already had. I don’t know if this is or can become a relationship, but I want more than sex. I want to get to know you, your quirks and oddities–”

“There aren’t any,” he interrupted, grinning.

“There’s already the first one” you mumbled, looking at him seriously for a moment. Then a smile broke up your serious expression.

Taehyung just shook his head with a grin before his eyes fell on your lips. “Does that mean I finally get to kiss you?”

“Yeah.”

Taehyung raised his hand, slowly, and so gently that at first you were unsure if you were imagining the touch, before his palm and thumb rested on your cheek and his fingers caressed your ear and neck. Your breath hitched at the intimate touch and unconsciously you leaned towards the movement.

This was the moment when you threw every last bit of doubt overboard. The space that was finally vacated, after all these years, was filled with a warmth until you even felt the heat on your cheeks.

Taehyung now leaned forward fully and you closed your eyes at the same moment as his lips met yours. The kiss was soft at first, almost cautious, as your bodies had to get used to each other again. But it only lasted a moment before Taehyung opened his lips to intensify the kiss and ran his tongue along your lips. You willingly opened your mouth and allowed him to enter.

He explored your mouth and pulled you towards him by your hips until you landed on his lap with a soft “oomph”. He gave a low, satisfied-sounding grumble and his grip on your waist tightened, as if to make sure you wouldn’t vanish into thin air again at any moment.

Your fingers ran through his soft hair and you didn’t know where to touch him first. Everything was going too slowly for you and when you let your hips circle against Taehyung’s, he made a satisfied sound. His big hands eased off your hips and instead sought their way under your T-shirt. Meanwhile, the kiss grew more intimate and you both fought for the upper hand, even though you knew there was no answer to that question.

“God, I missed you,” he murmured into the kiss.

His thumb circled your nipple over the material of your bra und you arched into his touch. You felt him growing even harder between your legs when you pushed your hips into his. Taehyung bit your lower lip and elicited a whine from you. He grabbed your thighs and in the next moment he had lifted you up and laid you backwards on the sofa. Immediately he towered over you and you spread your legs so that he could find space between them. His mouth wandered downward, along your neck, remembering exactly which parts of you were particularly sensitive and making you squirm in his grip.

As he let his hips snap against yours, your moans echoed loudly in the otherwise silent room. He showed you exactly how hard he was, and your abdomen contracted as you thrust your hips upward, hoping to get more friction.

But Taehyung seemed to have other priorities at that moment and pushed your T-shirt up a little further. You shivered as the cool air hit your bare and heated skin, and when Taehyung sensed this, he rubbed your sides with his large, warm hands. His mouth also found its way to your stomach and he spread countless small, innocent kisses on the sensitive skin before he slid a little further back and straightened up until he knelt between your legs.

You were already out of breath at this point and looked at him over your rapidly heaving chest. He held your gaze as he slowly, but surely reached with his fingers to the clasp of your jeans and undid them. He took his time, after all, you were no longer in any hurry. Time belonged to you alone at that moment.

Taehyung helped you slip out of the tight jeans and threw them on the floor next to the sofa. He didn’t hesitate for a second and let his hands slide up your legs starting at your calves, until he finally reached your thighs and spread them a little further apart.

His gaze was fixed on the center of your body and his eyes flickered upward for a brief moment where your eyes met. “And I missed that, too.” He bit his lip while his gaze studied your body, as if he were absorbing and memorizing every little detail of you.

The air escaped you as you laughed out of breath. “I’ve missed you, too.”

This time his gaze was on you longer; it seemed like he didn’t expect that answer. Both of you would probably need a little time to get used to this new situation. But it didn’t scare you anymore. For the first time in years you had the feeling that someone accepted, even liked you, as you were.

And for the first time, maybe ever, you knew you were giving someone else that chance too.

He turned his gaze back between your legs and you had to moan as he stroked his thumb over the wet line that had already formed on the material of your underwear. Then he withdrew his hand and grabbed the hem of his T-shirt, which he pulled over his head a moment later. Immediately your hands grabbed everything they could find, his trained arms, over his chest and stomach. Until your fingers finally reached the waistband of his pants, where you paused for a moment.

You looked up and without breaking eye contact, you pulled the button through its flap and pulled the zipper down, before Taehyung slipped out of them.

Your breath hitched when you saw how hard Taehyung was. His bulge was significant in his gray boxers and when you saw that, you grabbed him through the material. He groaned and his eyes fluttered shut at the touch before he thrust his hips towards your hand. Taehyung grumbled in frustration as that wasn’t enough. Without further ado, he grabbed your hand to push it away and grabbed your legs instead.

Before you knew what was happening, he had spun you around so that you were sitting on the sofa again and he let himself slide onto the floor between your legs. He bumped into the coffee table behind him, clanking, and you watched the two bottles of lemonade wobble dangerously before they settled back down.

“Maybe I’d better move this one back a little,” Taehyung said more to himself than to you, and gently pushed the table back a few inches, giving him a little more room to maneuver.

Without playing any more games, he snaked his fingers under the thin material of your panties and you lifted your pelvis so he could slide them off of you. Then he grabbed your thighs from underneath and pulled you to the edge of the sofa. You felt his hot breath on your heated and wet center and let your head fall backwards onto the backrest.

“Did you know you have the sweetest pussy ever?” He gave you a quick glance from between your legs and as if by themselves your fingers found their way into his hair. Then he buried his face in your dripping folds and licked a long strip along your opening.

“Oh God,” you uttered as he placed the tip of his tongue against your clit and circled it. “Why are you so good at this?”

Taehyung’s deep laugh came from between your legs, and the vibrations from it sent more shockwaves through your body. He savored your taste, diving right in so that his nose grazed your clit and you unintentionally thrust your hips upward. He released one arm and held you in place with the flat of his hand on your abdomen.

His lips found your clit and when he started sucking on it hard, you let your head fall back and pushed his head even closer between your legs.

With a smack, he broke away from you and when he looked up, you could see the area around his mouth glistening. “You have no idea how delicious you are, Baby,” he murmured, replacing his tongue with two of his fingers that slid up and down, spreading your arousal. His fingers stopped briefly at your entrance, pressing the tips of his fingers inside so that he stretched you ever so slightly before running them along your labia again.

“Don’t tease me like that, please.” Your inner walls were pulsing around nothing, just waiting to finally be filled. Preferably by Taehyung, but if he didn’t hurry, you’d have to do it yourself.

“Oh come on, you love it,” Taehyung laughed softly, biting his lower lip as his gaze fell on his fingers, sliding in and out of you. He was giving you what you wanted, just not enough of it.

“Taehyunggg…” You didn’t care how whiny you sounded.

But your plan seemed to work, as Taehyung suddenly pushed them all the way into you. You stifled a moan as his fingers buried deep inside you and the heel of his hand pressed against your clit.

“Is that better?” Taehyung sounded breathless as well.

“Yes,” you gasped and Taehyung began to pick up a slow but steady pace with his fingers. You could hear how wet you were and that sound only turned you on more. “Taehy–” His name got stuck in your throat as Taehyung began to curl his fingers while being buried deep inside you.

“What was that?”

“Fuck you,” you blurted out between clenched teeth, but Taehyung knew you didn’t mean your insult.

“I’d rather have you do it.” And with that, all at once, he pulled his fingers out of you.

He eyed your torso and slid his palm over one of your breasts. Through the material of your T-shirt and bra, he let his thumb circle your nipple before pulling his hand back. “Take that off, Baby. I want to see you.”

You did and pulled both your shirt and bra over your head. When you turned your attention back to Taehyung, he had taken off his boxers so he was completely naked as well. He had taken a seat on the sofa and was sliding his hand up and down his cock. Drops of pre-cum had formed on his tip, which he picked up with his thumb when he noticed your gaze and reached out to you.

“I’m clean,” he mentioned immediately, “I got tested shortly after this started with us. Just to be safe.”

You grinned, grabbing Taehyung’s wrist and encircling his thumb with your lips. He tasted slightly salty, but barely noticeable, and with your tongue you traced along his thumb. You began sucking on his finger and heard Taehyung swear under his breath before letting it slide out of your mouth with a “pop”.

“Okay, enough of that.” He reached out a hand towards you and grabbed what he could get, which was your forearm, before pulling you towards him by it. You almost stumbled as you were pulled forward and just barely managed to brace yourself against the backrest next to Taehyung’s head. “Sorry, but I cannot wait.” He gave you an apologetic smile.

You placed one leg on either side of Taehyung’s hips and before you had settled on his thighs, he had leaned forward and taken one of your nipples into his mouth. Shuddering, you exhaled as he circled his tongue around the sensitive bud and sucked on it. You rested your chin on the top of his head and your fingers loosened the little knots that had formed in his hair at the nape of his neck.

“I love your body,” he said before giving your other nipple the attention it needed. “It’s perfect.” His hands traveled down your body and gripped your butt cheeks, which he kneaded. “You’re perfect.”

You reached between both your bodies to take his cock in your hand and slid forward a little. With slow movements, you lowered your hips and let him slide along between your legs.

“Oh god, Baby.”

Taehyung was now gripping your hips to get you into a steady rhythm. His cock slid so wonderfully past your wet opening, giving just the right amount of friction to your clit. You changed the angle of your hips and the next time you moved your hips forward, his tip lightly penetrated you.

“Fuck, wait.”

Taehyung looked to the side towards his bedroom before cursing again.

“You’re clean you said?” you asked, and Taehyung’s head snapped toward you.

“Yeah…”

“I have a contraceptive implant.”

His mouth shaped into an “Oh” as he understood what your statement meant – and the implications it had.

“We don’t have to, I can get a condom too.”

You didn’t miss the way he brushed his thumbs over your sides. To reassure you, or rather himself.

“I don’t mind if you don’t.” You tilted your head and looked at him, waiting. It was his decision now, even if you could see from his expression that he had already made it.

Then he nodded. “But I won’t last long.”

You snorted. He’d said that once before, after you’d had a particularly long foreplay. Still, he had managed to make you come twice.

You propped yourself up on your knees and guided his cock to your opening before sliding down on it a moment later. Each time he stretched you anew with his considerable size and you took a moment to get used to it again. Meanwhile, Taehyung stroked your back, up and down your spine, until you began moving your hips backward.

You let him slide almost all the way out of you before moving forward again.

“Oh, Love,” Taehyung moaned, and at the nickname, your hips stalled.

Taehyung seemed to notice his slip of the tongue as well and slightly panicked, he looked at you.

“Love?” you repeated, letting the nickname roll off your tongue. You didn’t think it was that bad…

“Do you prefer Baby?”

You shook your head, because the longer that one word buzzed around in your head, the more you liked the sound of it. “Love is okay.”

“Just okay then?” Taehyung grinned, the tinge of panic gone again as he noticed your relaxed reaction. “Hmmm…” He left you with the false expectation that he was thinking when he suddenly let his hips snap upward.

You drew in your breath sharply, followed by a moan. You didn’t know how he always did it, but he managed to hit the exact point inside you each time that made your abdomen contract so tightly that the knot already seemed ready to burst.

He held you by the hips as he pounded into you from below. He squeezed your arousal out of you with each thrust and you felt both of your excitement running down your thighs, while his hands kept you upright and in place.

“You–you’re so… so fucking wet and–and warm,” he pressed out with effort between thrusts.

Loudly, you moaned his name. You didn’t care if his neighbors heard you, or the people walking by on the street outside who would surely have to hear how well Taehyung was fucking you.

You raised your head, had you watched Taehyung’s cock split you apart before, and met Taehyung’s gaze. Your lips found each other in a passionate kiss and you pulled him even closer with desperate hands. One of his hands released its grip on your hips and landed hard on your ass. Your moan was swallowed by Taehyung’s mouth as he massaged the tender area.

You let one hand slide between your legs and circled your clit with your finger. The kiss was only interrupted by your moans as you were brought closer and closer to the edge of your approaching orgasm.

“Taehyung–”

“I got you,” you heard him say, your eyes squeezed tightly shut as the knot in your abdomen released all at once and you came, clenching hard around Taehyung’s cock.

Taehyung thrust into you a few more times before he too paused in his movements and pulled you back onto his lap entirely. His loud breathing mingled with yours as you both tried to come down from your high.

“Oh, you’re absolutely incredible,” Taehyung said after a while.

Your sweaty bodies had already melted into one and you felt Taehyung slowly go limp inside you. He sighed before pressing a kiss to your temple and gently lifting you from his lap with a firm grip and laying you backwards on the sofa.

He helped you clean yourself up, being so gentle that you didn’t even flinch as he wiped away the sticky remnant of both of your arousals. While he was putting the trash away, you grabbed your underwear and slipped them on.

You were lifting up your T-shirt when Taehyung returned from the kitchen, a glass of water in each hand. His expression changed when he saw you getting dressed. Wordlessly, you extended a hand to him to gratefully took a glass.

“Are you getting ready to leave?” He didn’t look at you when he asked that, but put exceptionally much focus on putting on his boxers as well.

You let him ponder for a moment longer before letting your shirt fall back to the floor. “Do you have anything more comfortable?”

Taehyung’s eyebrows drew together as he looked up.

You nodded towards your shirt in response, which was crumpled on the floor. “Maybe sweatpants and a hoodie?”

Taehyung seemed to finally understand and his disappointed expression gave way to a relieved smile. “Sure, you want me to get you something?”

You took the few steps towards him and let your fingers dance on his bare chest. “I was thinking maybe we could watch a movie? Order some food and just wind down for the evening?”

He looked at you, the question on his mind visible all over his face. “Does that mean… you want to stay the night?”

You nodded without hesitation. “Yes, I want to stay the night, if that’s okay.”

Taehyung laughed, a hearty, deep laugh that you hadn’t heard in so long. “You bet it’s okay with me,” he answered, pulling you into a hug. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Love.”

Love. What a weird and funny little word.

You couldn’t wait hearing it more often from now on.

. . .

As always, if you enjoyed this story, please consider leaving me some feedback and letting me know what you think! That would mean a lot to me because I was really nervous to post this. Thank you! 💜

#kim taehyung x reader #taehyung x reader #bts imagine #taehyung smut #thebtswritersclub #bangtanarmynet #bts x reader #bts smut #bts fanfic #strangers to lovers

336 notes · View notes

spxllcxstxr · 4 years ago

Text

Game On • J.P

(Gif not mine)

Writing Challenge: @lunalovecroft ‘s 2.7k Trope Writing Challenge! Congrats again! Everyone go check out their fantastic blog! Trope: Quidditch Rivals and Secret Dating

Summary: No one knows that rival captains, Potter and (Y/Ln), have been in a secret relationship for quite some time. Then, the Championship Game arrives.

Warnings: cursing, a small hint of steaminess (nothing big—it’s like a quick mention and that’s it), slight Wolfstar and Dorlene mention, mention of breakfast at the Great Hall, kissing, use of Ms when referring to the reader (only once), nonGryffindor!reader

Word Count: 2k

A.N: Kinda long winded but I actually like the dialogue for once??? Wow. Congrats again on 2.7k! Everyone go follow them because I get so happy seeing them on my dash ❤️ Hope you all enjoy and love you all ❤️

****

Your eyes snap open hours before they have to, your dorm still pitch black, the soft snores of your friends filling up the otherwise quiet space. The covers feel heavy and restricting on top of you, something you quickly remedy by kicking them clear off the mattress.

You swing your legs over the edge, feet meeting the cool wooden floor.

Rubbing your eyes, you glance over at the ornate clock on your nightstand. One in the morning. You sigh, your goal of getting a good night’s sleep before your important match in ruins.

Your skin crawls at the thought of the Championship Match only hours from now. The amount of blood, sweat, and tears you’ve shed in preparation for it is frankly quite concerning.

Unable to get back to sleep, you drag yourself out of bed, shoving your feet into plush slippers before slipping quietly out of your room. You’re forced to tiptoe around scattered books, most of them Quidditch related from last night.

There’s no way you’ll be getting back to sleep anytime soon, the anxiety of the morning’s match coursing through your veins. The nerves were the worst part of competitive Quidditch—after all these years you still couldn’t shake them.

Absentmindedly, you think about heading to the Kitchens, the warm and comfortable environment sounding like exactly what you need.

Late night visits to the Kitchens aren’t anything new, you and James often sneak out after curfew hidden underneath his Invisibility Cloak. Sitting in the far corner behind countless shelves and barrels was a frequent date for the two of you since it offered enough privacy from the rest of the castle.

The two of you could hold hands on the table, his thumb open to draw little figure eights between your knuckles. Your eyes could light up just looking at him without the fear of being called out. His lips could capture yours in a sweet or passionate kiss and no one would know.

The real and complete reason for keeping your relationship a secret was long since forgotten, but the general idea is still shared. It’s just easier being Quidditch rivals instead of being Quidditch rivals that snogged the second feet touched the ground. Neither of you were ever accused of going easy on the other during matches, and that’s how the two of you preferred it.

Plus, there was something romantic about sneaking around the castle and through secret passage ways pressed closely underneath his cloak. Stolen kisses in empty classrooms and quick shags in broom closets were fun when they weren’t inconvenient.

In the back of your mind you have an inkling that James might be huddled up in the usual spot as well, considering he has a match as well in a few hours.

You shuffle through the common room, a few third years spread out on the couch, sleeping atop their textbooks and notes. The fire crackles and pops lowly. A shiver runs down your spine as you step out into the corridor.

“Lumos!”

A murky blue light blooms from the tip of your wand, lighting up the dark corridor.

You shuffle across the stone, the occasional laugh or snore echoing throughout.

Filch isn’t an issue at this time of night, surprisingly the old care taker does get some sort of beauty sleep, though it does him no good, so you find yourself walking normally instead of carefully creeping around.

It doesn’t take long to get to the portrait of the bowl of fruit, faint giggles coming from the pear. You extend your arm to tickle the bottom of the pear, it’s giggles erupting even louder before morphing into an intricate brass doorknob.

Stepping through the threshold you’re immediately met with a blast of heat due to the large fireplace that practically takes up the wall to your right. Even though it’s the middle of the night, plates and goblets and utensils are clanking and crashing together, the pitter patter of house-elves darting around the area isn’t surprising at this point.

“Nox.”

The blue light fades and flickering orange takes over.

A small and pale grey figure rushes up to you, jittery like they’ve just consumed a gallon of coffee. One ear droops low enough where it’s almost dragging across the floor while the other is significantly shorter.

“Ms. (Y/Ln)!” The house-elf squeaks, wringing their lavender cloth between their fingers. “Mr. Potter is waiting for you!”

“Alright, Tilly.” You smile warmly at the elf. “Thank you.”

As you make your way to your usual spot in the back of the Kitchens, you hear Tilly bound back over to the counters, joining the many other house-elves that work down here.

Behind stacks of old crates and barrels, there’s an old and decrepit picnic table, obscured from the rest of the room. Each time you and James show up you’re surprised the house-elves haven’t chucked it into the large fire yet. It’s so rickety it’s practically only good for firewood.

And being the spot for the two of you to find refuge in.

James is sitting with his back against the wall, legs outstretched across the bench just like you suspected. He’s lazily tracing a finger around the lip of his steaming mug, hazel eyes lost in thought. From your spot you can see his teeth toying with his bottom lip.

“You ok Jamie?” You ask softly, trying not to startle him out of his thoughts.

His eyes flick up to yours before he fixes his glasses and runs a hand through his bedhead.

“Knew you’d join me eventually, love.” He sends over a wink, face lighting up.

“And you didn’t think to pick me up at my common room?” You playfully scoff, slotting yourself between his legs, face pressed into his chest.

The red fabric smells suspiciously like the Quidditch shed, like he got in some late night practice.

“Oh yes, because standing out in the cold corridors outside of your common room after curfew is much better than just waiting for you in the warm Kitchens.” James’ chin rests in the top of your head, his arms wrapped securely around your waist.

“Blimey, chivalry really is dead.”

“Y’know, you could’ve waited outside the Gryffindor Tower for me.” James points out, chuckling at your complaint.

“I’m sorry.” You gasp. “Who has the Invisibility Cloak, again?”

“You got here just fine, didn’t you, love?” He snorts, chest rumbling.

“Whatever.” You grumble, rolling your eyes in defeat.

James sighs, rubbing your side. “You ready for the morning?”

You hum noncommittally, the thought of tomorrow’s match swirling through your mind.

“Nervous, love?” His voice is soft and delicate against your temple.

“I mean, this is my last chance, Jamie.” You mumble into his chest. “And of course it’s against you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, (Y/n)?” James asks, concern laced within his voice.

“It’s just that you’re an amazing player and I’m—“

“A spectacular player as well.” He interjects. “I’ve seen you out there practicing. You’ve built a bloody good team this year. We’re on equal footing.”

“Yeah well, I’ve never beaten you before.” You huff lightly, playing with the hem of his shirt.

“So?” He questions. “That doesn’t mean anything. There’s a reason you’ve made it into the Championship match, (Y/n). Because you’re a fucking phenomenal Captain. And I’ll hex anyone that tells you otherwise.” You feel his fingers flex angrily against your waist.

“You’re so sweet.” You pick your head up slightly to face him, a pout tugging at your lips.

“Guess I should give you a good luck kiss now, considering we won’t have time in the morning.” James’ hazel eyes shine in the flickering light while looking into your own.

“Does luck even last that long?” You bring your fingers up to hover over his sharp jawline.

“Sadly, love, we’ll have to test that.” He sighs.

You bring your lips to meet his, your fatigue making it a bit sloppier than it should’ve been. He nips at your lips, pulling you closer to his chest momentarily before pulling away.

You whine slightly at the loss of warmth.

“Gotta save some of that luck for myself, love. Can’t just let you win.” He smirks, lips grazing your hairline.

The two of you end up sitting there for another hour or so, listening to the fire crackling and the house-elves rummage around. Eventually, he pulls you underneath his cloak and drops you back off at your common room, a quick peck pressed to your lips.

You manage to drift back off to sleep, dreaming of James rather than Quidditch.

When you pry your eyes open for the second time, the sun is actually filtering through your curtains and most of your dormmates are awake and shuffling around.

You tune them out the best you can, opting to go through your routine in whatever silence you can find.

Your routine is quite simple, you let your joints pop and muscles stretch, trying to shake yourself awake.

The rest of the castle seems to be alive with boisterous laughter and over the top festivities. Glancing around at the corridors and the Great Hall, you’re able to notice a pretty even split between red and gold and your own house colors.

This was going to be one hell of a rematch.

Marlene and Sirius have a crowd forming around them as they flex and throw out trash talk. You watch as Remus and Dorcas try to coax them down from the tabletop, but they seem unsuccessful.

Peter, Mary, and Lily are fawning over James, hyping him up, even you can tell from across the Hall.

But he isn’t paying attention to them, his eyes are clearly trained on you behind his round glasses.

“Already envisioning Potter’s demise?”

You tear your eyes away from him, instead focusing on your teammate.

“Oh absolutely.” You smirk, before throwing yourself into last minute charts and maneuvers.

Breakfast goes by quick, your leg never stops bouncing underneath the table and your fingers tap incessantly against your goblet.

You and your team strut down to the pitch earlier than anyone else. There’s a slight breeze rolling through the grounds, something you take into account.

It becomes a bit of a blur after you’ve changed into your uniform, the crowd begins to show up and their cheers take over your hearing.

Remus is announcing the game, which you have no idea why since it never goes well for anyone. His commentary ranges from picking on James to flirting with Sirius to just trying to get McGonagall pissed off.

Marching out to the center of the grassy pitch, broom in hand, you’re bombarded with your name being enthusiastically chanted across the entire stadium. Confidence bubbles inside of you as you face James, Madam Hooch just beside you.

“Alright everyone, I expect a nice, clean, and fair game today. This is the Championship, no one will get away with any funny business.” Her tone is clipped as her yellow eyes take in everyone. “Captains, shake hands.”

You and James take a step forward, his hand firmly grasping yours.

“Good luck, love.”

With your hands still connected, James plants his lips on your own, and you eagerly kiss back.

The crowd erupts into even louder cheers.

“Bloody hell!” You hear Remus exclaim over the loud speaker. “James and (Y/Ln) are now snogging on the pitch! You own me five bloody Galleons, Sirius Black! I told you, you—“

“Lupin!”

James takes a step back, his usual smirk painted across his face. His hazel eyes glint mischievously behind his goggles, which he takes the time to adjust like they were his own glasses.

The roar of the entire castle fills your ears after your little reveal.

It’s a little overwhelming, you have to admit, but it doesn’t deter you. You’ve spent too many hours training for this very moment to back down now.

You roll your neck, taking a deep breath to calm your nerves, but pixies have already erupted in your stomach. You feel James’ stare burning into you.

“Mount your brooms.” Madam Hooch’s harsh tone cuts through the crowd, but you’re barely paying attention to her as you swing a leg over your broom handle.

The whistle pops into her mouth like usual, but in the split second before she blows with all the air in her lungs, you lock eyes with your boyfriend.

His red and gold robes billow behind him, confidence just rolling off of him. Dark and chaotic curls drift in the breeze.

He sends you a wink.

“Game on, love.”

•

All Character Taglist: @aspiringsloth20 @amourtentiaa @cherie-draco

For @lunalovecroft go check their blog out!

#lovecroftstropechallenge #James Potter #james potter x reader #james potter fanfiction #james potter imagine #james potter fluff #the marauders x reader

342 notes · View notes

silentexplorer18 · 3 years ago

Text

Pen & Ink Soulmates: A Kakashi Hatake Fic

Summary: A partner, they said. Someone compatible with you, they said. Lies. Or the story in which you sneakily convince Kakashi that soulmates aren't all that bad.

Pairing: Kakashi Hatake x Female Reader

Warnings: Soulmate AU, Writing on skin, Minor Violence, Implied/Referenced Torture, Abduction, Minor Injuries, Serious Injuries, Hospitals, Angst with a Happy Ending.

Word Count: 12,100+

Note: For clarity, this fic occurs over a relatively large chunk of time, but it might make more sense to pretend Kakashi joins the ANBU in later teenage years (though we could pretend two high-level Jonin could talk with such maturity at age 13 if we wanted to!). Basically, I didn’t stress a timeline too much, but I hope you still enjoy it as much as I do! :)

Read on AO3 ▪ Masterlist

Hi, soulmate!

Soulmate?

Are you getting my messages?

Let me know if you want to talk.

Can you see the moon where you are?

I found the prettiest flowers today at the market. I wish I could draw you a picture of them.

Do you like flowers? I have a hard time picking a favorite.

You’d been trying. The whole connecting with your soulmate thing was supposed to be exciting and invigorating, but so far it had only left you with the bitter taste of defeat.

A partner, they said. Someone compatible with you, they said.

Lies.

Apparently whoever was supposed to be on the other end of your soul connection didn’t care about the messages you sent. They weren’t as eager to speak with you as you were to speak with them. At least, that’s what you told yourself. The alternative was much, much worse; a fate you weren’t willing to consider.

You had a soulmate. They just weren’t ready to talk yet.

So, you threw yourself into training. Every swift movement and taunt muscle, every hit target and victorious sparring session, all the work left you feeling strong and powerful. When your soulmate met you, maybe they’d regret taking so long when they saw how hard you’d been working, how skilled you’d become.

Thankfully, you had a sparring partner that liked to keep you on your toes. Kakashi had been training with you for about as long as you could remember; he was your closest friend and greatest ally as you worked to become a talented shinobi. Of all the people in the village, he facilitated and supported your growth more than anyone. You could rely on him for almost anything (except for being on time).

But there was one problem.

Kakashi didn’t like talking about soulmates. You couldn’t blame him. Deep emotional connections wasn’t a topic he wanted to dwell on, not after everything that had happened throughout his still-young lifetime. So you kept the conversation civil, even as your heart desperately yearned to talk to someone about your sudden fear of being alone, your deep, unrestrained terror that there was no partner to your soul, no body to receive the messages you delicately penned on the skin under your wrapped arms.

But apparently there was.

You learned that roughly a year later, after many failed attempts and more destroyed pens than you cared to admit.

The amount of times you’d tried to contact your soulmate had dwindled, both due to the lack of response and the influx in your shinobi duties. Regardless, you still took the time to try every once in a while.

Usually, your messages were sweet or silly. A few times, you’d merely asked if anyone was receiving your carefully written words, begging to know there was someone out there for you.

But every sensible person reaches their breaking point. And evidently both you and your soulmate broke in very different ways on the same day.

Good evening, soulmate. I didn’t do much today, but I can give you a run-down if you’d like.

It was a game you’d started a few months into your attempts at contact. Pretending someone was there was much, much easier than thinking about any alternative. So you tried your best to leave messages despite how much it hurt.

Staring at your wrist, you considered the scribble of the letters, the handwriting you only tried to make semi-nice now. That was your soulmate’s fault; you were past the point of a perfect first impression. But what to write today? What could entertain your soulmate, maybe even draw them out? You weren’t sure.

When the first inky letter swirled across your skin, your heart leapt into your throat, and your pen dropped from your hand. Your thoughts of what to write were quickly forgotten. There was someone. There was someone! There was someone waiting for you!

You leaned forward, hand clamped around your wrist to keep it steady as the words appeared on your skin.

You’re putting us both in danger. Stop writing to me.

Well, that certainly wasn’t what you expected.

After all the waiting, after all the time, that’s what your soulmate was willing to give you? Your jaw clenched, hand releasing your wrist so you wouldn’t inadvertently snap it. What a jerk.

How dare your soulmate assume you were incapable! How dare your soulmate treat you like nothing more than a hindrance! How dare your soulmate act like you were some worthless flower that would be trampled over by a single breeze!

You clicked your pen, hand pressing just a skosh too hard into your skin as you carved a message back to whoever that jerk was.

I can take care of myself.

The reply came a few minutes later.

Good. I don’t want you in my life. Leave me alone.

Oh.

Years of waiting for a soulmate, and the one to finally show up didn’t want anything to do with you? Great, just great.

You closed your eyes, hands shaking as you drew your knees closer to your body. Alone. You were alone. No matter who was destined to be by your side, nobody would be there. The tears burned in your eyes, but you tried to keep from shedding them. You were a shinobi. You were strong. You were… alone.

No, no you weren’t. You still had Kakashi and Kurenai. You had Asuma when he bothered to chat with you. You weren’t totally alone. You had people in your life to keep you company. Hell, you were even supposed to meet Kakashi for breakfast tomorrow!

You went over your list of friends in your head, desperately trying to drown out the nagging voice in the back of your mind whispering that the person who mattered most would never want you.

Kakashi was late to breakfast the next morning. Even later than usual. You idly wondered if he’d been called on an emergency mission while trying to keep your thin soup down.

The events of the night before rested at the forefront of your mind, making your stomach queasy with the memory of the harsh words.

Your soulmate had washed them off your arm by morning, but the message had already been branded in your mind. There would be no forgetting.

When Kakashi finally deigned to arrive, he looked much worse than usual. It was hardly perceptible to the untrained eye, but you knew something was wrong after so many years of friendship with Kakashi. He was even quieter than he usually was, picking at the cold soup you’d ordered for him.

It had been spur of the moment to order for the both of you, a decision brought on by being too wrapped up in your own thoughts. However, Kakashi didn’t comment on your unusual gesture.

For once, something went your way.

After your relatively brief and quiet meal, you offered to walk with Kakashi to the Hokage Tower, desperately craving the fresh air. He accepted your offer with a half-hearted nod, and you fell into step alongside him, trying to keep up with his impossibly lanky figure.

“You’ve been going to the Hokage Tower a lot lately. Is everything alright?”

Hummed, the sound still gravely from failing to use his voice all morning. “They’re pushing me up to the ANBU.”

You froze. The ANBU? One of the most elite and dangerous positions that a Leaf shinobi could accept? Your best friend—the talent, the protector, the lost child inside willing to throw his life away for the sake of his home, for the people who had left without him—an ANBU?

Kakashi stopped a few paces in front of you, casting a distasteful look over his shoulder at your expression.

“I can handle it. Stop fussing.”

With quick steps, you joined his side again, clenching your fist in embarrassment. “I’m not fussing. I just wasn’t expecting it so soon.”

“We die young as shinobi,” he murmured, continuing his walk toward the tower in the distance. Suddenly, the structure appeared to be looming rather than protecting, and a chill crawled along your spine.

Of course shinobi died young. All bodies gave out eventually, and shinobi would fight until that occurred, regardless of whether or not it was to their detriment (it almost always was). But Kakashi was the most talented shinobi you’d ever encountered. He wouldn’t die young, you hoped. He had so much left to live for, even if he couldn’t see it through the haze of his own pain and guilt.

The remaining walk to the Hokage tower was silent. And afterwards, you took flowers to the memorial stone. You prayed for the dead. And just this once, you begged them to look out for the living, too.

The day Kakashi joined the ANBU, you knew. The matching tattoo colored your bicep in sweeping increments, a sharp red rattling your heart within your chest. The reality of your situation washed over you like the worst kind of genjutsu.

Your best friend was your soulmate. And he didn’t want you.

The realization left you shell shocked for a few days, unable to even speak or look at Kakashi. Even without the contact, your mind couldn’t escape from him. However, you eventually managed to safeguard your heart as best as you could. You wouldn’t tell him yet; something within you couldn’t handle that risk of rejection, especially when it would come from Kakashi. But you weren’t willing to throw away the lifetime of friendship the two of you shared. So you put on a smile and met Kakashi at his favorite restaurant, just like usual.

“You haven’t been here for a few days,” he noted as you sat down, watching you intently. “Everything alright?”

You shrugged, fingers trailing down the side of your glass. “Yeah, just wasn’t feeling up to anything.”

It was a partial lie, one Kakashi could easily prod into if he wanted to. But he didn’t. He let you be. And you relished in the way the conversation eventually grew normal between the two of you, right up until he rose from the table, leaving you to pay the bill.

Everything was normal. But you cried again that night anyway.

Life fell back into the usual pattern after that. There were times that you could almost pretend the weight on your shoulders wasn’t there. Kakashi was away on more missions with the ANBU, so you were able to bury your head in your training and missions and pretend nothing was wrong. At least, you could pretend until a pen caught your eye.

The words on your skin had been so brutal, and you hoped they were just because of the pain Kakashi had endured. You hoped it came from a place of love rather than hatred; perhaps Kakashi’s intention was protection rather than cold-hearted rejection.

At least, that’s what you thought until you found Kakashi sparring with Gai.

You tried your hardest not to invade their privacy, not to listen to words that weren’t meant for your ears, like the good friend you were, but Kakashi’s voice was too sharp, too defensive, to not draw your attention.

“—but it’s a waste of time, Gai. Soulmates are unnecessary. Especially for people like us.”

“You’re hiding from your future, Kakashi. Wasting all your youthful days that you could be spending with the one who will love you as much as life itself!”

Another failed attack. The clang of clashing kunai.

“A soulmate could only be a liability to me. You know what kind of missions I’m being sent on.”

“They’re your soulmate, Kakashi. Soulmates are built to work together. They fill the cracks like the best kind of glue!”

Kakashi scoffed. There was another clang, the gentle zip of shuriken on the breeze.

“I’d never love them anyway, so it doesn’t really matter.”

“You’d say something so cruel—”

You turned away, unable to listen anymore. The pain pooled heavy in your gut. The message he’d written hadn’t been a reflexive, angry reaction. His beliefs were set in stone. He didn’t want you.

So, you held your chin up, resigned yourself to eternal loneliness, and pretended the whole soulmate dilemma didn’t exist.

If being Kakashi’s friend was the closest you could get, then you’d ignore the sting in your chest when you looked at him. You’d be his friend. Nothing more.

Your resolve lasted a few weeks.

There was whispering. There had always been whispering, but this day was much worse than usual. He’d been mocked, insulted, shamed. Openly. And aside from Gai, nobody had said a word otherwise. You couldn’t stand it, watching him mask the pain as much as he masked his own features. His feigned nonchalance couldn’t fool your perceptive eyes. You’d been watching too closely; you knew him too well.

Curled at your desk that night, you wrote a message on your wrist, scared of talking to him again but unable to leave him alone.

You’re a good person.

Hours passed before you received a response. It was curt, defensive, everything Kakashi carried to protect himself. You don’t know me.

But you did.

Although it was difficult to sleep, you tried your best not to toss and turn too much as you brooded over your feelings. Was it worth saying more? Was it worth risking the hurt, the rejection?

In the morning, you’d made your decision, especially after noticing his words had already been rinsed off your wrist.

Cleaning your own wrist, you wrote the message in your head a thousand times over, only hoping the words wouldn’t hurt you so much when they reached his skin.

You're a good person, Kakashi Hatake. I won't let you tell me otherwise.

Kakashi met you for lunch just like usual. You wouldn’t have found anything odd about the meeting, but he showed up on time. Apparently your message had rattled him enough to throw him completely off his rhythm.

Rather than comment on his early appearance, you just smiled as he sat down, choosing to dig into your meal. Kakashi followed suit, pulling out a book while he waited for his bowl.

Silence settled between you, and you let it. After all, you were trying to make the situation appear normal. The last thing you wanted was for him to figure out you were in on the secret that was bothering him. So, the two of you ate. You sipped your tea, glancing out at the people passing on the street until Kakashi finally broke the silence.

“My soulmate knows who I am,” he murmured, setting down his raman bowl.

You plastered on a smile, knowing you had to fake congratulations, had to fake knowing that he had, in fact, zero intentions of finding his soulmate.

“That’s so exciting, Kakashi! I’m glad you’ve finally found yours!”

He laughed dryly, scratching his neck. “It’s not quite like that.”

You tried to neutralize the way your expression dropped. Either Kakashi didn’t notice, nose stuck in his copy of Make Out Paradise, or he didn’t care. You bit your lip, brows furrowing before you could stop them. “How so?”

But you already knew the answer to that.

“I’m not talking to my soulmate,” he said curtly. “It’s not something that interests me.”

You shook your head, sighing softly. He’d never let anyone in, never let anyone close. Kakashi was too reserved for that, and you resigned yourself to the knowledge that he’d never care to change the fate he’d chosen for himself. For such a hopeless romantic, he had a terrible tendency to reject love.

“You’re so foolish, Kakashi,” you whispered, balancing the chopsticks on the rim of your bowl.

His eye snapped to your face. Though he appeared nonchalant, you could tell that he slightly bristled at your words. “You’re one to talk.”

“Mine won’t talk to me,” you pointed out sharply, eyes dropping to refold your napkin.

His expression softened minutely, but his tone stayed firm. “That isn’t what I meant. We’re shinobi, (Y/n). Love in our line of duty is fatal.”

Pursing your lips, you caught his eye again before dropping his stare. “Perhaps,” you murmured, knuckles straining in your lap. “But you can’t say it’s pleasant to live without love.”

He was silent for a moment as you both stared at anywhere but one another. Kakashi was ruminating under your words while you wallowed in the silent pain of listening to your soulmate openly deny your importance. It hurt, but you wouldn’t admit that, least of all not to his face.

Before he could speak again, Gai had clapped Kakashi on the shoulder, greeting him as warmly as ever.

You slipped out of the shop, enough money to cover both your meals pressed into the owner’s hand before either of the shinobi could realize you’d disappeared.

Although your conversation with Kakashi had stung deep within your chest, you appreciated the insights it gave you.

Kakashi Hatake was aware his soulmate knew his name. And he was terrified.

The fact that he’d brought it up at all was enough to tell you how jarring the event had been for him. That, and the way he responded at the mere notion of knowing his soulmate. He was like a cornered cat lashing his claws out in terror. He didn’t mean to hurt anyone, not his soulmate, not you. But in his desperation to protect himself, reinforce the walls he’d so meticulously crafted to fortify his aching heart, Kakashi Hatake was willing to scratch.

However, you weren’t willing to let it go that easily.

He was scared of having someone care for him. You were willing to start small in the hopes of changing that.

Along the curve of your inner wrist, you swirled the letters that would become the first of many.

Stay safe on your mission.

It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

Today is supposed to be cold. Wear an extra mask.

He didn’t. Worse yet, he chose to do the opposite. Although it was hard to tell, you knew his mask and undershirt were the spring/summer fabrics rather than the fall/winter ones.

The bastard was spiting you. Well, spiting his soulmate. So, unwittingly spiting you.

It was still irksome.

As the two of you wandered around the village, helped the farmers, and even took a leisurely stroll around the village perimeter “just in case,” you relished in the way Kakashi moved. It was obvious he was cold, regretting his unnecessary fashion stance.

But you couldn’t stand to see him cold.

He looked close to dropping to the ground for a rapid succession of push-ups just to rekindle some warmth. As smug as you were about watching him suffer, you weren't willing to let him perform a Gai for a small semblance of relief.

Swiftly, you unlooped your scarf, draping it around his neck unceremoniously. It wasn’t much, but the fabric was warm, and it would certainly help a little.

If only you knew how happy the gesture made him.

As the two of you walked back to the heart of the village, Kakashi walked a little closer to you than normal. And, for some reason, you didn’t really mind.

When Kakashi didn’t show up to lunch the following week, you weren’t surprised. You’d only just returned from a mission, and word of Kakashi’s travels had already graced your ears. He was heading to the Village Hidden in the Sand. For what, you weren’t sure. Some missions were still classified even for you.

Despite knowing how skilled Kakashi was, you still worried about him traveling alone through the desert.

The click of your pen hurt a little less when you clicked it now. It helped to know who your soulmate was. It helped to feel like he cared about you still, even when he so clearly loathed his soulmate.

Remember to drink some water today.

A few hours later, you were surprised to see a response scribbled across your inner wrist.

Yes.

Just one word but finally a positive one.

Rest when you can.

Kakashi stared at the words delicately placed on his wrist. His mission had taken longer than expected, and he was beginning to think his soulmate knew that.

Whoever they were, they must have been a shinobi like him. A high-ranking one, too, for them to determine the length of time he was supposed to be away for.

He’d been receiving one message per day. At first, it irritated him to no end. But now, he didn’t hate it quite so much, even if he often didn’t bother to reply. The messages were always harmless. Sometimes they were funny. Sometimes they were giving him advice, a little reminder meant—he assumed—to help him through the day.

While the sender certainly had the best intentions when sending the note, the message still left him irked. He was alone for this mission, and the sleeplessness and general strains of traveling had started to take a toll on him.

Only a day’s journey left until he could return home and try to shake the sand out of every nook and cranny of his backpack. Only a day’s journey left until he could sleep in a bed. Only a day’s journey left until he could go to dinner with the others. Just. One. More. Day.

He could make it. He had to.

Kakashi had been injured again.

The news swept through the village like a wildfire, and you showed up with two Make Out novels and a bowl of raman, nearly being knocked over by Gai’s comically large bouquet in the process.

Kakashi accepted Gai’s flowers with moderate amounts of grumbling and a few lackluster attempts to get him to leave. Eventually, he did, and it was just the two of you.

You filled the vase at his bedside with water, delicately stuffing as many of the stems as you possibly could inside the glass.

Kakashi watched you move around him, cherishing the silence. At his bedside, you unclasped your bag, pulling out the blindingly colorful books and the container of Ichiraku raman. After making sure the utensils were settled and there was a napkin, you turned back to Kakashi, just missing the warm expression on his face.

“You should rest,” you encouraged gently, “and eat up.”

His eye squinted playfully. “You fuss too much.”

You smiled, smoothing a shuriken printed blanket over the starchy hospital ones. It was yours, but it still smelled faintly of dogs and Kakashi and spice. Hopefully it would stave off some of his nightmares, having something that smelled vaguely like home.

“I fuss just enough. Now, don’t stay up too late reading. Some rest will go a long way.”

“You fuss too—” He yelped as you pinched his toe through the blanket, slinging your bag back over your shoulder.

“You’re lucky you have me as a friend.”

Kakashi’s expression softened, mind racing toward how close he’d come to death yet again. “Yeah, I am.”

He relished in the way that simple statement delighted you, watching the way your expression lit up.

“Get some rest,” you encouraged again, turning to leave him in the bright, quiet room.

As per your request, he did.

Although he listened to your advice, it was only marginally. In true Kakashi fashion, he’d talked his way out of the hospital after a measly two days of treatment.

His body needed more time, but Kakashi was always one to push himself.

Since the Hokage stalled sending him on another mission, something he both hated and appreciated, he occupied the following days in his normal rhythm. He trained privately, visited the memorial stone, and wandered the village nose-deep in supposedly trashy romance.

You’d caught him wandering around a few times, and even saw him lightly competing in a challenge against Gai.

The sight made your blood boil even though you knew it was Kakashi being Kakashi.

He had no sense of self-preservation, which wasn’t particularly helpful when you—his soulmate—were watching from the sidelines.

Did he even care that he could leave you all alone? No, probably not, your mind taunted. Kakashi didn’t care about soulmates; you knew that.

If only you could convince your heart not to care.

That afternoon, you let the letters curl across your wrist as you watched him do another training exercise with Gai, looking faintly more fatigued than normal.

Give yourself time to recover.

If he found your message, he didn’t care to respond.

Kakashi would visit the memorial stone in the morning; you knew how his routine worked.

He felt it fitting to visit them as often as he could, an apology for living the life they all should have lived.

You couldn’t blame him. You visited the stone often, too.

But you couldn’t today, not while you were traveling to the Village Hidden in the Sand with a scroll. So, you asked for a favor, scribbling on your wrist: Pray for mine, too, please.

He was starting to grow accustomed to your messages. A small part of you wondered if he kept an eye out for them. But that was silly. You were thinking about Kakashi. He probably was just reading his book when the words appeared, his wrist already in his line of sight.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

But it still didn’t dispel your excitement when the answer scribbled across your skin a few minutes later.

Sure.

He’d been taking on so many missions lately, wearing himself to the bone just to be a good shinobi. A part of you wondered if he was trying to avoid thinking about anything other than his shinobi world. That hunch didn’t stop you from worrying.

Soulmate or not, Kakashi’s actions would have worried you. He looked exhausted as he shuffled through his laundry. You’d brought him takeout from his favorite restaurant to hopefully get something other than rations in his stomach before he left on his next mission.

Who knew how long it would be before he drug himself in, requested another trip, and raced off to somewhere new. You would’ve thought he was avoiding you if it weren’t for the obvious delight in his eyes when you caught up with him outside Hokage Tower.

But there was a reason he was working himself to exhaustion. Possibly long-dead memories brought back to life that he couldn’t stand thinking about. You didn’t even want to know; you just wanted him to be okay.

A week later, you saw him walking through the village gates yet again. Back again. Planning to leave again. It was always the same, just relentlessly overkill at present. He was taking on too much, and one day he would slip up and regret it. You didn’t want that.

So you stayed behind the kiosk you’d been perusing, fingers untangling the wraps around your hand. It was a simple message, but you hoped it would help snap his mind out of whatever hole he’d buried it in.

Please don’t overwork yourself.

He didn’t respond. Not a word graced your hopeful skin.

But Kakashi caught you outside one of the stores in town and asked if you wanted to meet up for dinner that night. He would be around for a while, he said, but he was too tired to cook.

Despite trying to hold on to your resolve, a small part of you couldn’t help but hope he was staying because you asked him to. It was probably wishful thinking, but you were grateful for whatever force made him stay nonetheless.

I believe in you.

Kakashi scoffed at the message on his arm, printed in the spot where his glove met his sleeve.

He found it after a competition with Gai. Hardly anything worth fussing over, but his soulmate had still sent him encouraging words.

Had they been watching? Had they seen the fun (though he’d never admit it) that he and Gai had been having? Had they wanted to join in?

For a long time, he’d been able to avoid thinking about his soulmate altogether. Now, though, they’d found a way to weasel into his mind with the words swirling over his skin.

He wasn’t willing to consider whether or not he enjoyed it.

I worry when you’re reckless.

The message shouldn’t have stung Kakashi’s heart, but somehow it did. His soulmate was watching and worrying, hearing the stories about his travels. Whoever they were, they must have been a shinobi, too.

Were they okay with forsaking love in the name of war? Could they abandon emotions for the sake of duty? Maybe. His soulmate had never directly asked to be anything more than penpals, though even that notion was quite one-sided.

But the message on his wrist betrayed his soulmate’s strength. They worried about him. They listened for the stories and understood when something went wrong.

Kakashi couldn’t help but wonder if they were reckless, too.

If he never took the chance to know them, would he care if they threw their life away as often as he’d tried to? He wasn’t sure.

The next Make Out novel comes out today. I reserved you a copy at the Northern bookstore. It’s less crowded.

Kakashi didn’t understand why his soulmate was being so nice to him. Not after his harsh words at the beginning, not after his sparse replies and general lack of interest. But whoever they were, they were trying, and he had to admire that.

At first, he was surprised his soulmate was not only fine with him reading erotic novels in public but also encouraging it. But, then again, his soulmate was meant to be compatible with him, right?

There would be butting heads, of course. All soulmates lost the honeymoon stage eventually. But this seemed deeper, warmer. His favorite book in a quiet shop on his day off. It was kindness. And it felt both strange and wonderful.

He vaguely regretted not doing anything for his soulmate. Though, maybe they were okay with that. Maybe they enjoyed being alone, just like he did.

Maybe if he kept lying to himself, he’d continue to enjoy it.

But crouched in a tree a few hours later, he couldn’t shake the gratitude deep in his chest. The novel was amazing. And he wouldn’t have been able to get his hands on it if it weren’t for his soulmate’s generosity.

Two words.

Thank you.

Kakashi had arrived home from another long mission. Although unscathed, his clothes were a mess. Dirt and mud clung to his legs, dried blood was smattered across his upper body, and a few rogue twigs and leaves stuck to him in strange places. He needed a shower. Desperately.

But something within Kakashi was restless, and he chose to wander around the village absently.

Something must have happened for him to look so dazed and unattached, but you tried to avoid asking anything direct in public.

Instead, you hopped beside him, catching his arm with the tips of your fingertips. He hummed in response.

“You just got back, right, Kakashi?”

He hummed again. “Yep.”

“Have you bought groceries?”

“No... Why?”

“A bunch of us are going to dinner tonight. You should come. It’s been a while since we’ve all been together.”

He inspected you for a long moment, and you could tell what he was thinking. The laugh bubbled in your throat before you could help yourself. “It’s Iruka’s turn to take Gai home, don’t worry.”

He stared for a moment longer before nodding slowly. “Okay.” Another small, dazed nod. “I’ll come.”

You couldn’t hide your smile as you told him the establishment and the time. That alone made Kakashi’s mood improve, though he’d never admit that aloud.

An hour later, though, he was still wandering around the city absentmindedly. So you figured his soulmate could take matters into their own hands.

Blood in your hair? Isn’t that a bit macabre?

He replied an hour later.

No.

But the next time you saw him, he was dressed in a new uniform. Not a single pristinely white hair was out of place.

If it hadn’t been for Anko talking your ear off about her last mission, you almost could’ve imagined that you and Kakashi were on a date.

It was the closest you would get, a clean vest and all.

But when Asuma blew a puff of smoke and Kakashi glared disdainfully from across the table, any hopes of romance slipped through your fingers.

You were friends. Close friends.

And you refocused on Anko’s story in the hopes of forgetting the state of your friendship with Kakashi for the span of a few minutes.

Every little glance he sent your way certainly didn’t help.

Nor did the way he offered you the last bite of his cake as a thanks for paying for his meal yet again.

Damn, you were in deep.

Be safe on your mission.

His reply came a few minutes later.

Yep.

Although it wasn’t much, the gesture made you smile. It seemed almost like he was waiting for your message, like he’d been checking as he and his companions wandered down the road.

You told yourself it was wishful thinking, but the word scribbled on your wrist in his handwriting warmed your heart all the same.

You’d forgotten. The mission had been too complex, your mind too preoccupied. You’d forgotten to write to Kakashi.

A part of you distantly wondered if he cared, if he even thought about your messages.

He’d started to reply on occasion. It was never more than a quickly scrawled, single word response, but it was still better than the total isolation he’d given you before.

You couldn’t say it was great, or that the two of you talked as soulmates. But it was relatively amicable. And that was a much better foot to get off on than the first time he’d responded to the words you’d scribbled words across your arms.

Things were okay.

And although you had a few scrapes and scratches from your mission, that had gone okay, too.

When your team settled in a clearing for the night, tent built and fire glowing, you drifted off, too exhausted to think of sending a scrabbled love message to Kakashi.

But he hadn’t forgotten about you.

Although you assumed he wasn’t paying attention, Kakashi was one of the best ninja in the Village Hidden in the Leaves. He paid attention to everything, despite his usual nonchalance.

He noticed immediately that his soulmate hadn’t written to him.

After weeks of at least one little message per day.

And he wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he was terrified. Had something happened to you? Were you injured? Could it be worse?

The idea of soulmates may have left him feeling disgruntled, but your messages had burrowed a home in his heart.

He wasn’t ready to give you or your messages up yet.

So for the first time in a long time, he wrote a real message.

You’re late. Doing okay?

As you watched over the dying flames several hours later, an early morning guard for your teammates, you stared at his words, tracing a finger over the scraggly characters.

Late.

You knew he wasn’t talking about your mission because the four of you weren’t due back for another two days. He didn’t know your identity. That only left the messages…

Was he treating this as a check-in?

You rolled your eyes, chuckling. Leave it to Kakashi to care more than he let on.

Got lost on the path of life. You?

Kakashi stared at your message. He’d been perusing his favorite bookstore for spare copies of the Make Out series’ novels, sleeve suspiciously cuffed and waiting for a reply, when the words had swirled across his skin.

And he laughed. Warmly and purely. Because you’d stolen his line.

You knew him. And maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing if you would continue to make him laugh so openly.

Surprised with himself, he clicked his pen, words scribbling across his skin before he had the chance to doubt himself.

Glad you’re alive.

It wasn’t much, but it was a start. An admission that he wasn’t as dismayed by the soulmate thing as he let on. And you arrived home from your mission absolutely beaming.

You were able to catch Kakashi for lunch before heading off on your next mission with Kurenai. The food was filling, and the conversation was nice. Funnily enough, he was supposed to leave for a mission with Gai the next day. No rest for the shinobi apparently.

Kakashi waved at you as you walked away, and you smiled to yourself. Even if you didn’t have your soulmate by your side, at least you still had some connection to Kakashi. Being by his side was worth the dull ache it left in your heart.

But you would be without it for the next few days. Although you and Kurenai were leaving for no more than two days, Kakashi and Gai would probably be gone most of the week. Part of you hated when Kakashi was away, but part of you enjoyed getting to write to him more often. When he was away, you could be a little less secretive as you scribbled down messages throughout your day in the village.

But, for the time being, you’d focus on the mission at hand.

It was a standard case of bandits in the woods. At least, that was what the scroll had described the mission as. However, as you and Kurenai crept through the dense forest, something felt off.

No matter how far the two of you traveled, the quiet whisper of wind in the leaves greeted you. Despite your speed and silence, you couldn’t sense any animals or hear anything suspicious. Bandits would have left campsites or trash or, hell, even footsteps. But nothing greeted your senses, not even traces of animals. These weren’t ordinary bandits.

Your suspicions were confirmed when eight people jumped from the brush, attacking with a swiftness you hadn’t anticipated. Their presences had been completely concealed.

Kurenai lept to your left, and you lept to the right, sending three shuriken through the air to hit the nearest attacker. While your attack worked slightly, you immediately had to jump again, barely catching Kurenai rushing off through the trees.

This was the failsafe plan; if you got caught, you’d separate far enough that you couldn’t catch one another in the crossfire of your attacks.

But you were outmatched. Whoever these “bandits” were, they were extremely skilled in capturing and securing enemies. One moment, you were wielding a fire jutsu. The next moment, your vision had gone dark.

Capture wasn’t the only thing the bandits appeared to be skilled in. Upon waking, you’d been tied to a chair with restraints stronger than you could break. The room was dark, probably somewhere underground, and you realized you had no idea how long you’d been unconscious. Was Kurenai okay? Had she been captured, too? What did these people want with you?

None of that mattered, not when the first blow had landed across your exposed side. Whatever these people wanted, you wouldn’t give it. So, you took a deep breath, clenched your teeth, and shut out the world. Your village was valuable to you. The people there mattered to you. And you’d follow your training to the letter, or you’d die trying.

Whether it had been hours or days of torture, you weren’t sure. All you knew was that everything hurt, and your vision was starting to go blurry. Despite that, you hadn’t relented. No matter what they threw at your body, no matter what manipulation they tried to play with your mind, you wouldn’t budge.

At the end, at least you’d make the Village Hidden in the Leaves proud.

But there was something that was missing, something you wanted to do before you died, even if it was just selfish, even if it was just a foolish whispering of your heart. You wanted to be buried somewhere your friends could visit. You wanted everyone to know about your end, to know what had happened, to never worry that you were out there somewhere.

You wanted Kakashi to find peace in your death, not guilt.

So there was a secret you had to spill.

You slid the pen from your pocket, clicking it open as you stared at your arm. Slowly, you undid the bandages, greeted once again by blank skin. Swirling the pen across your forearm, you wrote the rough coordinates of your capture on your arm. It wasn’t exact, but hopefully it would be good enough. Then, you wrote the words “urgent note” on your fingertips and wrist, hoping that would encourage him to look. Below the coordinates, you wrote: Abducted by enemies. Not relenting to torture. Getting weak. Send help if possible. Or someone to collect my body. Look at leg later. —(Y/n).

Carefully, you rewrapped your arm, moving to roll your pant leg up. Your hands were shaking, and it was hard to hold the pen, but you had to write to him.

They said the end is coming, and I'm starting to believe them. It hurts a lot. So I'm writing to you. I know you didn't want to deal with the whole soulmate thing, but I couldn't stay away. You were just too wonderful to not stand beside. I'm sorry I didn't leave you be, didn't respect your wishes. But I wanted to be a part of your life. I'm being selfish by writing to you now, but you're the one person I've always been selfish with, so I'm not going to stop at the very end. Please don’t be upset with yourself if I don’t make it.

Your eyes were watering now, vision slightly blurry. Had they drugged you, too? Or was it just the injuries?

I just want you to remember that you’re loved. That I love you. That you deserve to be loved. Please don’t forget that when I’m gone.

Whatever else you wanted to write would not be written. Quietly, the pen clattered out of your hand, and your head slumped forward.

Time was up.

Your vision was blurry when your eyes finally blinked open. You were cold, but the ache in your muscles was a reassurance that you were very much alive. Alive and in a hospital, it seemed.

There was a crinkle beside your bed, and you looked up to see Kakashi thumbing through his book.

What had… You blinked, trying to recall exactly what had happened.

There was a mission… you’d been on a mission with Kurenai… right. Then… and then... you were abducted. Yes, you could remember that now. And Kakashi… you remember thinking about Kakashi. Gosh, everything was so damn hazy. You shifted, wincing as you tried to sit up.

“Hey!” His voice was cheerful, and you blinked up at him in surprise at the warmness in his tone. “Good to see you waking up!”

How had he known you were at the hospital? Had Kurenai… Wait, no. No. Hazily, you could recall writing coordinates on your wrist. They weren’t precise, so someone must have looked for you. You couldn’t remember being found. Everything after the last interrogation was too hazy… too confusing. But Kakashi had known… maybe Kakashi had looked for you.

“You made it in time?”

He hummed, closing his book with a thump. “Pakkun found you. Once I knew what to look for, I could rely on his nose.”

You nodded groggily, reaching up to rub your eyes. The ink was still on your wrist, visible due to your unwrapped arms. You’d forgotten about—

“Kakashi, I’m so sorry about the message.” You turned to look at him, eyes wide and embarrassed. “If I knew everything would’ve been fine, then I wouldn’t have—”

His hand rose, and you stopped, heart hammering in your throat. This was it. This would be the rejection.

“I’m glad I had the opportunity to save you.”

Of course. Because he wouldn’t leave a comrade behind; that wasn’t like him.

But that wasn’t the message you were referring to.

If he wasn’t going to bring up the love message, then you wouldn’t, either. “I’m grateful,” you murmured, looking down to finally see the treatment your body had undergone. There were marks everywhere, which meant Kakashi was marked everywhere, too. Marks on the soulmate that didn’t want you…

“I appreciate you waiting,” you forced yourself to say. Maybe he’d get the message and leave you alone.

Instead, he met your awkward sidestep with bluntness. “I figured we should talk.”

Your head felt like it was spinning, and you had the slightest sensation that you were going to be in the hospital for quite a while. It would be embarrassing to be rejected here; it would be embarrassing to cry in front of the nurses.

“Not now,” you croaked, hand scrabbling to grab the invisible cup of water at the bedside. Water, sake, medicine, heck, even the flower water beside you. Anything to push the lump out of your throat. Anything to avoid thinking about Kakashi’s rejection.

You were eyeing up the vase next to you as Kakashi stood, long legs moving to fill a glass by the sink. He handed it to you, assuring your fingers were pressed around the cup before he moved away.

You sent him a grateful half-smile before you swallowed the water like a shot, desperate to drown yourself in something other than your own awkwardness.

“Feel better?”

No, you really didn’t. Your head was still spinning, stomach still queasy. Whether it was from your injuries or Kakashi’s pointed stare, you weren’t sure. “I don’t want to talk about it today. Everything—” you coughed, trying to release the tightness in your throat. “Everything hurts.”

He nodded, humming low in his throat. “I’ll go get a nurse, then.”

You nodded shakily, debating whether or not you could escape from the hospital before he came back. The ache in your side told you moving probably wasn’t the best idea.

“But before I do, I have one question.”

Your head snapped to where he stood by the door, wincing as you did so. “Yes?”

“How did you find out it was me?”

You stared at him for a minute, searching his impassive face. He was one of the best shinobi this village had ever seen, and he was still impossibly clueless sometimes. Slowly, you rolled up your sleeve, revealing a roll of gauze. It was blue, unlike the starchy white medical gauze on your sides. You could fiddle with it; the fabric belonged to you. With nimble fingers, you untied it, letting it pool below your elbow on the bed.

Kakashi stared openly at the ANBU tattoo, and you watched the pieces click into place. He hadn’t even considered what a tattoo would be like for his soulmate.

“I see,” he whispered, fingers unconsciously twitching toward his covered arm. After a moment, he shook himself from his thoughts, gaze again becoming impassive. “I’ll go get the nurses.”

“Kakashi?” you called, shocked as the words left your lips. You hadn’t meant to call out for him, not yet, anyway. But he was standing there staring like you’d held up a practice dummy, focus radiating from him in waves. You had to say something. “Thank you. For saving me… and waiting. And thank Pakkun, too?”

Kakashi’s expression softened. “I will. Now, get some rest. You look exhausted.”

Though, rest was the last thing you would come close to receiving as the doctors gave you a full evaluation. Poking, prodding, and asking questions took up most of the afternoon. Although you tried your best to focus and take in all the information you were given about your physical state, your mind continually strayed to Kakashi. Did he hate you now? Did he want you out of his life? Was he waiting for you or just waiting to ask about the whole soulmates thing? You wished you could quiet the questions swirling through your mind.

That evening, you found a message scribbled across the back of your hand. Although his handwriting was still messy, it was obvious he took his time. He wanted it to be legible.

Get well soon, (Y/n).

It was the first time your soulmate had written your name on his skin. He knew you now. There was no going back to the secretive messages and hidden assurances. Everything was out in the open; Kakashi knew exactly who you were. He knew everything.

That night, you wept.

You wept for the injuries that would bar you from upcoming missions. You wept for the bitter sense of death that had grazed your fingertips. You wept for the compassionate message on your hand. You wept for the fear of being alone again.

You wept for Kakashi and all that he meant to you.

Between the crying and the medical evaluations the day prior, you slept well past the time you’d typically rise. Consequently, it was well past the opening of visiting hours, too.

Kakashi arrived before you woke up and tucked himself into a corner with a book. However, he read very little. Instead, he watched the gradual rise and fall of your chest, comforted by the knowledge that you were still breathing.

When “urgent note” had appeared on his fingers, his heart had nearly stopped in his chest. When he read the message printed on his wrist, the sinking sensation had only grown. Fear consumed him more than it had ever consumed him before.

His head had spun with the realization that you were in danger, that you were his soulmate. Summoning his ninkin had happened in a blur. If he was being honest with himself, everything was a blur up until the moment he found you. That moment would live on in crystal clarity in his memory forever.

There are some moments in life too horrific to forget. Finding you unconscious on the floor of a dingy bunker, pen by your side, chest barely moving, would be one of those moments for Kakashi.

The only thing more reassuring than watching you breathe was watching your eyes blink open slowly and focus in on him. He could tell you were nervous about talking to him, and he knew why. The message still hastily scribbled on both of your thighs was more than an acknowledgement of the soulmate bond. It was an admission that you loved him, an admission that you believed in him, that you wanted to stay by his side.

It was also an admission that you believed he didn’t want to stay by your side.

He really needed to talk to you.

“Good morning,” he hummed, tucking his book back in his vest. Smiling, he moved to sit on the chair beside you, feeling it was appropriate now that you were awake. This close, he could smell the antiseptic on your skin, the overbearing flowery scent of the hospital lotion, and the faintest whiff of your shampoo still clinging to your hair despite the days it had been since your last shower.

“G’morning,” you mumbled, stretching lazily. Kakashi watched your movements, chuckling at the way you arched like a happy rabbit after a nap. It was cute and endearing, a movement Kakashi had gotten used to witnessing over the years.

Shifting the other direction, you winced, body instinctively jerking back into a ball. “Ow,” you grumbled, hand moving to put a little pressure on your side. With some effort, you managed to shift into a sitting position, still moving gingerly to somewhat satiate your aching limbs. “I thought I’d feel better today, but I guess not.”

Kakashi snorted dryly. “That’s a bit ambitious, don’t you think?”

You stopped rubbing your shoulder to stare at him. “What do you mean?”

What did he mean? Hadn’t the doctors told you? Surely they would have mentioned… Were you playing dumb or did you really not know? Kakashi stared at you for a moment, scrutinizing your confused expression, before his eyes dropped. He let out a breath, then another, trying to hide the pain blossoming in his chest.

He’d almost lost you.

“You were dying,” he said lowly, gaze fixated on his gloves. “By the time we got you back, we really thought you weren’t…” he shook his head, expression dark. “The medics thought you were already gone.”

It took a moment for you to respond. The doctors said your recovery was astronomical, that you’d been close to death, but the way Kakashi described it, so somber and broken, made the reality of the situation hit home.

You’d almost died. You’d almost lost everything you held dear.

You’d almost lost him.

Glancing back to Kakashi, you found him still lost deep within his thoughts. His expression was dark, fist clenched over his thigh, over what was intended to be your last message to him.

Carefully, you reached out and bushed a hand over his clenched fist. The action drew his attention back to you. “It wasn’t your fault,” you gently offered, stroking the back of his hand once more before pulling away. “I’m sorry you had to see me like that, but it’s okay. It wasn’t your fault.”

He huffed, scooting backward in his chair. “I should have got to you sooner! Protected you! If I’d asked, you could have sent me updates. I could have prevented you from getting hurt—”

“Will you stop with the narcissism!” you chided, wincing as you swung your feet over the edge of the bed.

He met your gaze, lone eye blinking once in surprise.

“I took the mission. I accepted the consequences of it. I knew what an infiltration would be like. I knew the chances of getting ambushed. You didn’t endanger me, Kakashi. You weren’t even supposed to be on that mission.” Your voice faded, soft and overwhelmed. “But you saved me anyway.” You ran your thumb under your eyes, catching the tears before they had a chance to fall. “So claim that. Stop… I need you to stop only claiming your failures.”

He clenched his fist, unclenched it, and nodded once. For the first time in a long time, you couldn’t read Kakashi’s body language at all. What was he feeling?

Part of you wanted to reach out and comfort him, but you didn’t. He’d made space between you for a reason. And as upsetting as it was, you were willing to honor that.

After a few minutes of silence, you plucked one of the flowers from the vase beside your bed. “Did Kurenai bring me the flowers?” You smiled, brushing a finger against the petals. “She accidentally picked my favorites.”

When you looked back up, Kakashi was staring at you again, cheek barely pinking over the edge of his mask.

He could read erotic novels in public, but you made him blush.

“Actually, I brought them.”

Freezing, you stared at him in surprise. “You did? How did you—?”

He flushed again, eyes fixing on the flowers rather than your face. “You buy pots of those every spring, but they always die because you’re out on missions. And you take daisies to the memorial stone a few times a month. You leave iris for your parents, and you bring peonies and cookies for the ANBU guards when you have meetings with the Hokage. And on the second Sunday of every month you’re both in town, you hide 100 tulips around the village for Gai to find.” When his eyes snapped back to yours, your shocked expression made him grow self conscious, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “I’ve, uh, been paying attention.”

“Why?”

He gestured to the room, pretending to misinterpret your question. “It’s so dull in here. I thought a little decorating wouldn’t hurt.”

You snorted at that, impossibly undignified but oh so delightful.

Of course Kakashi would stall now that he was here.

But… no. He was usually blunt when it came to bad news. So why was he stumbling through the conversation like he’d never spoken to you a day in his life?

Your face shot back to him at the realization, and he arched a brow under your scrutiny. Could he like you? Could you have a chance?

“Everything okay?” he asked gently, tone much more serious than before.

You’d worried him.

Before you could respond, Gai burst into the room with the second largest bouquet you’d ever seen in your life.

“(Y/n)! I heard Kakashi was with you, so I figured I’d bring you some flowers on my way to challenge Kakashi to a shuriken throwing challenge!” He set the flowers—which balanced precariously due to their immense size—on your bedside table, giving you a dazzling smile and a thumbs up.

Kakashi sighed, “Well, Gai, I was just here talking to her—”

What if you had been interpreting Kakashi’s expressions all wrong? What if he didn’t like you? What if this was all his way of trying to stay friends? Although you hoped for something else, the fear of rejection clawed at your throat like a Shadow Strangle Jutsu. This was your chance. The chance to get out of Kakashi’s rejection. Gai was the perfect opportunity.

“You should go!” You chirped, smiling at them both.

“I… what?”

“That’s the spirit, (Y/n)! It would be a shame for Kakashi to waste his precious youth not enhancing his physical prowess!” Gai dropped to his hands, beginning to do push-ups on the floor of your room.

Ignoring the incredulous look Kakashi sent your way, you wriggled your fingers at his bag. “What volume are you on? I need something to entertain me while you lavish in your youth.”

Kakashi scoffed at your statement before fishing the Make Out Violence novel from his pouch. He dangled it in front of your face. “Is this what you’re after?”

You grinned, snatching the book from his hands. “This just so happens to be the volume I’ve been waiting for.”

Kakashi blinked in surprise, feeling his face grow warm again. “You read Make Out Paradise?”

You smiled sheepishly under his gaze, fingers tracing over the edge of the cover. “Really, it’s all your fault. It was so boring waiting in line to reserve that new edition for you. I needed something to do.”

Because that gift from his soulmate, that gift had been from you.

“And now you’re moving on to book two?”

Embarrassed but pleased, you grinned up at him. “I may have figured out why you’re so hooked on them.”

Kakashi laughed. Just a short huff, but still. Could you get any more perfect?

He was about to respond again when Gai grabbed his shoulder, already taking his ear off as he dragged Kakashi out the door.

You settled in with your—Kakashi’s— book, pleased for the reprieve but missing him all the same.

Delving into Make Out Violence was both a blessing and a curse. You lost track of time as you devoured the pages, and the story was so riveting that you barely thought about Kakashi. Though, every time you took a break, love—that sickening concept you didn’t even want to consider in reality—was at the forefront of your mind. So you dove into the novel again with renewed fervor, completely unaware that Kakashi had hopped through the open window. That is, until a warm voice interrupted your reading.

“Having fun?”

In surprise, you snapped the book shut, embarrassment washing over your expression. “A bit. How was the competition with Gai?”

Kakashi shrugged, dragging the chair he’d occupied that morning so he could sit directly beside your bed. “It was fine. Nothing out of the ordinary for Gai.”

“Thanks for the book,” you murmured, passing it back to him. “Maybe I can borrow another one of your copies again sometime.”

He took the novel, setting it down on the bed beside you, only to take your hand in his.

His hands were warm even through the gloves, and his fingertips traced over your skin delicately, as though afraid his touch would somehow hinder your healing.

“(Y/n), we need to talk.”

Despite only holding your hand, he could sense the way your entire body went rigid. “Kakashi, please—”

“(Y/n). I almost lost my soulmate this week.”

You bit your lip, trying to ignore the faint stinging in your eyes. He was right, you were being selfish. It wasn’t like you were the only one who had a terrible, terrifying week.

You just didn’t want to lose whatever you had with him.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you didn’t bother to mask the strain in your voice. He already knew how you felt about him. “We can be friends. Anything you want. I just… I don’t want to lose this. You. I don’t want to lose you. Even though I was being so selfish—”

“I read your message,” he said softly, gaze fixated on the bend of your wrist as your hand flexed in his own. “I’ve read it so many times,” he laughed, strained from holding onto unshed tears. “I’d get it branded on my body if I could. Parts of it, anyway.”

He shook his head, looking back to your face. He didn’t miss the shocked expression, nor did he miss the tears still frozen within your eyes. He shook his head again. “I can’t believe how lucky I’ve been, that it was you and you were here all along. And then you almost died and I…” He paused, gaze still tracing along the bend of your wrist.

“You..?” With bated breath, you watched his eyes, the pull of his lips through the mask, anything to give away what he was thinking.

“I can’t stand the thought of losing you. Not after how much you’ve grown to mean to me.”

Your heart thundered in your chest. Was he accepting you or rejecting you? Your breath shuddered over your lips, hand trying not to clench his too tightly. “What does that mean? For us?”

Kakashi leaned forward, pressing a masked kiss to your temple. “It means I want to take you for dinner when you get out of here. And—” he stood, letting go of your hand to walk toward the door. The sun was setting. Visiting hours were coming to a close. “Keep the book. I’d hate for you to be bored while I’m gone.”

With that, he vanished from your room, leaving you to wonder exactly what he wanted from you.

Tossing and turning that night, you couldn’t sleep, not with Kakashi’s words ricocheting through your mind. He cared about you, but he was putting distance between you. He was being aloof, just like the cautious jonin he was, but he was exposing vulnerable aspects of his soul to you.

Everything was so damn complicated, and you knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep until you’d gotten an answer to the questions burning a hole in your tongue.

It took a few minutes to sit up, but clicking the pen against your wrist had become second nature to you after so many years. You just wanted to know what he was thinking.

Do you love me?

He scribbled a reply a few minutes later, and you wondered if maybe he was just as terrified as you were, if maybe he couldn’t sleep because he was thinking of you, too.

Not like you want me to, but I could. Someday soon.

The thought sent hope skittering through your chest, but you tamped it down. He hadn’t wanted you. He still probably didn’t want you. You were a liability. You were a danger to his way of life. You were—

Ink stained your hand, trickling down your arm, as you realized the pen had snapped under the strength of your palm.

Without a way to stand on your own, you stared at the drying ink, trying to think of anything other than the fear in your chest, the longing in your heart, the nervousness bubbling under the surface.

Kakashi was stuck to the wall beside your window a few minutes later, staring worriedly through the glass.

An ink stain. Of course, he’d worried something was wrong.

He’d been awake waiting for your reply.

He’d been awake because of you. For you. The thought made you dizzy.

Silently, he slipped through the window, crouching worriedly beside your bed. Whatever pretense of nonchalance he kept up during the day, he dropped it now, just for you. “Are you alright?”

You nodded once, stiffly, mind still racing with the situation. Your friendly banter from the morning disappeared, words dried up as your emotions increased tenfold.

A million thoughts rattled through your mind, but you finally settled on one. “You told Gai you couldn’t love me.”

He cocked his head, confusion furrowing his lone brow.

“You were… it was a training day. You were talking about soulmates. And you told Gai that you couldn’t love a soulmate, so it didn’t matter if you didn’t find them…”

Your eyes were watering, and you looked away until you felt the warmth of Kakashi’s fingers circling your own. His hand clung to yours with renewed fervor, though the interaction still held the same touch of softness that it always held when you were injured. Comfort. It has always been an attempt to comfort you, a silent word of compassion. But now that he knew you were his soulmate, would his gestures hold the same meaning?

His voice, coupled with a gentle tug on your hand, had you vanishing into his gaze yet again.

“Soulmates are supposed to be your other half, right?” he asked softly. “If you’re mine, then maybe the whole soulmate thing can work out.”

Even in the moonlight, you could see the blush peeking over the edge of his mask.

You’d stood beside him through thick and thin. You fussed. You took care of him. You let him take care of you. You bought books for him, and he watched your favorite movies with you. He took you out to your favorite restaurants, and you always paid for him. You trained with the strength of a hurricane, and you always kept him mentally and physically on his toes. But no matter what, you’d both been able to rely on one another. It wasn’t romantic love, not yet, but it was the closest thing Kakashi had ever experienced to romantic love. He was close to being in love with you, and the revelation of the soulmate bond had changed those feelings very little.

He’d always been on the precipice of falling in love with you. Now that he knew you and he were destined for one another, the proposition of falling didn’t seem all that terrible anymore.

“If it’s me, you think it’ll work?”

This time, he flushed fully, pinking to the edge of his hairline. “Yeah. You’re… you’re perfect for me.”

Then, it was your turn to grow bashful under his praise. Perfect. He thought this could work because you were perfect. Not perfect in general. Not perfect to him. But perfect for him, with all of your many imperfections.

He wasn’t in love with you. He wouldn’t say it yet. But he was falling, and that was impossible to ignore.

His words left you lost in another world. All this time, he was rejecting his soulmate for fear they wouldn’t truly be his other half. But you were his other half, and he could see that now. He could love you. He could see a future with you. He could—

Kakashi’s warm voice brought you back to the present, hand still gently squeezing your fingertips. “Did you hurt your hand?”

He cares.

“No,” you whispered, shaking your head. “No, just a little ink.”

Kakashi stood, striding toward the other side of the room. He washed his hands under the sink before returning a moment later, damp rag in hand. This time, he sat on the edge of your bed, hand enveloping your own.

With slow, delicate movements, he swirled the rag across your skin, stealing the ink from your skin almost as effortlessly as he’d stolen your heart. If only you knew how easily you’d done the same.

“I was so scared you’d hate me when you found out,” you whispered. His hand tensed under your own, but he didn’t stop his ministrations. You continued, “Since I kept talking to you, both as your soulmate and myself, I was so worried you would feel betrayed.”

“I did,” he murmured quietly. “At first.” He flipped your hand, wiping away the stray trails of ink that had escaped from your palm. “When I got the message, I couldn’t believe that you’d… after all this time, it was you. And when we found you almost dead, I thought the world was punishing me again, just like everyone else…” Looking away, he began wiping the remaining ink spots off his hand, leaving your fingers to fiddle with the fabric on his knee. “But on the way back, all I could think about was the things I’d said to you. How could you trust me after I so blatantly pushed you away? How could you look me in the eye and put your faith in me when I hurt you so deeply? The fact that you’d tried to stay by my side after everything, the fact that you put your faith in me to keep you safe, after all the things I’d said to you… you never betrayed me. You’ve been by my side all this time, and I want to be by yours. Completely.”

You squeezed his knee, searching his face for any sign of illusion. “Is this real?” you whispered. “I want this to be real.”

Kakashi smiled, eyes crinkling as he took your hand. You looked dazed and happy as you stared at him; he’d never encountered anyone else so stunning.

Before he could stop himself, he leaned forward, brushing a masked kiss over your forehead, then your eyebrow, and finally your cheek. The pressure sent sparks across your skin, and you squeezed his hand a little bit tighter.

He hovered over your lips, breath ghosting across your skin through the durable material of his mask. You leaned forward, nudging his nose with your own. It was a silent message that you wanted his affection as much as he craved yours.

His breath puffed against your lips once again, and his voice, barely audible, filled the minuscule space between you. “Would you mind closing your eyes?”

Instantly, you complied, proving to him yet again how lucky he was to have met you. You put your faith in him time and time again, and he promised himself in that moment under the moonlight that he would do everything he could to be as compassionate a partner as you had been for him.

One of Kakashi’s hands released from yours, and you faintly heard the brush of fabric against skin. Your stomach fluttered as you felt his breath on your face again, warmer and closer than before.

And then his lips caught against yours, a gentle press against your tingling skin. His hand cupped your cheek, and you melted against him. The scratchy blankets and the faint hoot of owls faded into the background. Everything seemed to disappear except for you and Kakashi and the oh so delicate kiss between you. From the brush of his lips, so soft and tentative against your own, you sighed, leaning into him even more than before.

He groaned when the two of you pulled away. “I can’t believe I waited so long for that. Make Out Paradise really doesn’t do it justice.”

Make Out Paradise also hadn’t prepared him for the way his heart would race at the sound of your laughter.

“Are you sure?” you asked, reaching toward your bedside table. “Surely there’s a good passage in here somewhere.”

If it meant more time by your side, Kakashi was willing to spend an eternity searching the pages with you, stealing kisses for every paragraph you skimmed through.

In the morning, the nurses were alarmed and horrified to find Kakashi Hatake laying in your bed, one arm wrapped gently around your side, masked nose nuzzled into your neck. On the other side of you, his fingers brushed the cover of a well-worn Make Out Violence novel.

It was indecent, a break of protocol, and, most of all, a shameful mockery of their hospital security. But when you woke to find Kakashi’s nose tucking a little closer into your neck, a mumbled “good morning” slipping into your skin, neither of you could think of a more fitting way to wake up. For the two of you—soulmates, real soulmates—the scenario was somehow perfect.

He wasn’t one to care about looking indecent. You could certainly get behind that.

You welcomed sappy, romantic gestures. Kakashi was willing to privately oblige.

Yeah, you both thought, the soulmate thing could definitely work out.

Masterlist

A/N: Don't mind me casually fandom hopping again. This fic has taken ages to finish, but I'm so excited with the result! I have several more Kakashi fics currently underway, so I hope to get a few of them finished sometime soon! Have a nice day! :)

#kakashi hatake #kakashi x y/n #kakashi x you #kakashi x reader #kakashi hatake x reader #hatake kakashi #hatake kakashi x reader #hatake kakashi x you #hatake kakashi imagine #kakashi hatake fanfiction #anbu kakashi #silent writes

253 notes · View notes

90spumkin · 4 years ago

Text

Masterpiece

Summary: Who knew art could lead to an awkward meeting that would later lead to beautiful relationship.

A/N: I know I said I would post this Friday, but oh well here we are. All inserted pictures are from Pinterest. I absolutely loved writing this so please send me your feedback.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Artist! Reader

Warnings: swearing, implied/slightly descriptive smut, mention of alcohol and addiction

Word Count: 2.8K

Spencer doesn’t know how long he had been zoned out not listening to a word Emily said to him. They were standing in an obnoxiously long line at their favorite coffee shop. Spencer was admiring the art in front of him, the way the yellows and oranges flowed together was mesmerizing. They were so mesmerizing that Spencer didn’t realize the art was on the back pocket of the stranger’s shorts standing in line in front of them.

It wasn’t until Emily nudge Spencer’s shoulder, “Quit looking at that girl’s ass!” Spencer saw where Emily was pointing as she spoke. As he went to say, “I was not checking out her ass.”, the stranger with the mesmerizing art on her ass turned around to see the raven haired woman pointing down at the lower part of her body and the tall curly haired man blushing as he was caught in the act.

The woman smirked at them both and said, “Well my shorts do say ‘this butt is art’ so I guess technically you were just taking in all its beauty.” This made Emily snort and Spencer stutter. He tried to stutter out an apology, but by the time his brain allowed him to access words again Emily’s phone rang loudly.

She answered quickly and hung up just as fast, “I have to go to a meeting apparently. Sometimes I hate being the boss. I’ll catch up with you later, Spencer.” And with that she was gone, leaving Spencer there with the still smirking woman.

“You know the least you could do is buy my coffee to make up for this adorable fiasco.” She said causing Spencer to blush. He nodded his head and said, “Yes of course. I’m really sorry about all that. I’m Dr. Spencer Reid by the way.”

She smiled at him as he went to stand beside her in line, “Oh doctor, fascinating. I’m y/n.”

Once they had finally gotten their coffee and found a small table, conversation between the two flowed so effortlessly. “So, doctor, huh? Care to share with the class what kind?” Y/n asked as she took a sip of her dark beverage.

Spencer chuckled, “I have PhD’s in mathematics, chemistry, and engineering along with BA’s in psychology, sociology, and philosophy. I’m not a doctor who works in a hospital, but one who works in the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit.” Y/n smiled at him over her cup, “That kind of makes sense you look like a very intelligent man. Plus, you look way better in a cardigan than you probably would in scrubs.”

Their conversation went on without a hitch, no moments of awkward silence. They talked about their careers, y/n explained how she was an artist and Spencer adored the way she lit up as she talked. They constantly were bouncing ideas and questions off one another. The conversations stretched over many different topics, each just as interesting as the last. Y/n even listened and question Spencer on several of his fact dumps.

They both seemed to have forgotten the outside world existed until Spencer happened to notice the sun setting through the coffee shop windows. As he admired the colors in the sky he said, “The sky is always so lovely at sunset, but I hate that it could mean the end of this.”

He looked back at y/n who was smiling at him. “Okay I don’t usually invite strange men to my home, but would you like to come see some of my art that I’ve been working on?” Spencer smirked and narrowed his eyes, “You think I’m strange?” Y/n laughed, “Only in the best way.”

The first thing Spencer did when he entered y/n incredibly spacious apartment was admire all the art lining the walls. He had thought the art displayed on her jean shorts was mesmerizing, but the art that was in front of him now was simply breathtaking.

Spencer walked the walls, admiring and analyzing each piece. Y/n stood beside him as he smiled at the painting of a cow. She laughed softly as she spoke, “There is always a story behind each of my paintings. Some are silly, some are painful. However, this one happens to be my favorite. I grew up on a farm and I had a cow named Milky” She looked at Spencer who was trying to hide a laugh, “Hey I was 8! Anyways she was my best friend. It was funny when I first started to draw and paint, I would always use her as a model. Sometimes it seemed as if she was posing for me.”

Spencer didn’t take his eyes off y/n the whole time she was talking. Once y/n finished her story she looked at Spencer. Both of their smiles growing bigger. He looked back at the painting and said, “You know in another life I would love to be a cowboy with cows and other animals on a small ranch somewhere.”

Y/n giggled, “Would you name one of your cows Milky?” Spencer looked at her fondly and said, “For you, I would.”

Spencer turned his head to the right and noticed a canvas with several different shades of red bleeding into one another, there was broken glass scattered across it. He made his way closer, he turned towards y/n and asked, “What’s the story behind this one?”

Y/n’s eyes held a hint of sadness as she drew in a deep breath. She was hesitant at first but finally explained, “The glass is broken beer bottles, I was- am an alcoholic. I am currently 5 years sober, almost 6 now. I made this to remind myself of all the hate and pain drinking brought to my life” Y/n turned towards Spencer expecting him not to understand, but instead he reached into his pocket and pulled out a sobriety chip.

Y/n’s eyes started to tear up at the fact that someone finally wasn’t judging her but understanding her. She too pulled out a chip and both y/n and Spencer let out laughs full of pain but also full happiness. Spencer reached out a hand and placed it on y/n’s cheek. His thumb ran smoothly across her face to wipe a tear that had escaped.

When Spencer spoke again his words were soft, “Out of all this art, I think you are the one true masterpiece.”

One minute they were staring into one another’s eyes, and the next they were getting lost in the feel of the other’s lips neither one really sure when they had made it to y/n’s bedroom. Spencer held y/n against him firmly, but it felt delicate all at once. His fingers traced over every edge and curve of her body bringing sounds of pleasure from her beautiful lips.

Spencer planted soft kisses across y/n’s body as if he were painting and her body was his canvas. With every roll of Spencer’s hips, flashes of color seemed to blind him. When y/n arched her back, Spencer let her know she was more beautiful than any art piece.

The next morning, Spencer woke up to the sun shining through the windows. He felt y/n stir next to him, he couldn’t help but take in how lovely she looked. The sun seemed to only amplify her beauty.

Y/n opened her eyes to find Spencer staring at her. She smirked and closed her eyes again, curling up closer to him, “You’re staring.” Spencer chuckled causing vibrations to run through his chest making y/n giggle. “I’m admiring.” Spencer told her.

Y/n sat up to stretch, the sheets falling around her making her look like a sculpture of a goddess. She smiled down at him and scrunched up her nose “Yeah yeah yeah. Whatever you say.”

While they started to dress, well y/n was getting dressed Spencer was still looking for his shirt, he noticed the shorts y/n was putting on had art on them just like the ones before. However, these were not shades of yellow and orange. These shorts had little planets painted on them.

Y/n turned around to see Spencer’s eyes once again focused on her ass, “Why are you smiling like that?” At her question Spencer let out the laugh he was holding in as he said, “Ummm- well- it’s just that- your ass is out of this world.”

Y/n snorted and threw a pillow towards Spencer who actually caught it, “Oh the doctors got jokes this morning.”

Spencer spotted his shirt in the floor and as he bent over to get it, he said, “Not jokes, facts.” This only made y/n smile more.

Y/n watched the muscles in Spencer’s back flex as he fixed his shirt to put it on. Right before he put it over his head she asked, “Can I- can I paint something on your back?”

Spencer stopped all movements to look at y/n, he noticed the blush tinting her cheeks. His heart seemed to scream with emotions. Spencer through his shirt back on the ground and asked, “Where do you want me?” Y/n giggled and pointed to the bed.

Y/n had been straddling Spencer’s back for about 15-to-20-minute minutes when he no longer felt the softness of the paintbrush against his skin. Y/n had been humming while she worked and with the gentleness of each stroke of the brush, Spencer kept dozing off.

Y/n removed herself from Spencer causing him to turn his head to look up at her, she was smiling so brightly Spencer never wanted to look away. Y/n was staring down at the work on Spencer’s back and jumped slightly when he asked, “Can I see it?”

“Oh yes! Of course!”, she rushed to put down her paints and brushes. Y/n grabbed Spencer’s hand and pulled him towards the full-length mirror hanging on the back of her bedroom door. Before handing him the handheld mirror she said, “Close your eyes. I’m going to count to 3.” Spencer just chuckled and nodded.

“1…”

“…2…”

“…3”

Spencer opened his eyes and let out a gasp. The art that now covered his back was simple but so pretty. There were no defined lines, the colors overlapped in some places which just made it all the more beautiful. He looked from the mirror to y/n to see her hands clasped together and held against her mouth. She moved her hands slightly to ask, “So, what do you think?” Spencer looked back at the mirror and said, “I never want to take it off.”

After the time Spencer spent with y/n he was scared he would never see or talk to her again. Right after she revealed the painting she had done on his back, Emily called him with a new case. He ran out of there so fast he didn’t have time to remove the paint or give y/n his number. The plane ride was slightly uncomfortable with his clothes sticking to the paint.

However, it turned out the universe was on his side. They were leaving one case going straight to another, so Spencer’s spirits were kind of in shambles and his mind was consumed with thoughts of y/n. His sadness was starting to take over his mood when his rarely used cell phoned chimed, signaling that he just received a text.

Hi, doc. It’s your favorite artist. I hope it isn’t weird I’m texting you. I got a call from someone named Penelope. She said Emily thought you would like to hear from me.

Spencer looked over towards Emily who was smirking as she read over the case file, she knew who was texting him. Spencer just shook his head as he typed out his response, smiling the whole time.

Hello, y/n. That would be my best friends medaling in my life. Luckily, this time they were right.

Y/n response came back fast, and Spencer chuckled softly imagining the teasing look she was probably making as she asked-

This time?

That is a story for another time.

Over the course of the several weeks Spencer was gone, Y/n and Spencer texted every chance they got. A lot of the times Spencer would be too busy and would see messages from y/n he had gotten through the day.

I was running late this morning due to me having terrible time management skills and well- I went to brunch with paint completely covering my clothes.

Ha look what I did. I’m starting to think I’m the real genius here. click here for image

SPENCER REID. DID YOU REALLY HAVE PENELOPE GO BUY ME THIS AND BRING IT TO ME?!?! I love it! Thank you! click here for image

Spencer would always laugh and respond every time he got the chance. One night he was actually able to call her.

“Hello?”

“Are not sure how to answer a phone or are you questioning if I’m really calling you?” Spencer teased.

“Well, isn’t someone feeling sassy today.” Y/n laughed; she was overwhelmingly happy to hear his voice.

They spent most of the night just catching up. Y/n never once asked about the case and for that Spencer was thankful. Spencer saw the sun start to rise and realized what time it was.

“I should probably try and get at least a few hours of sleep.” Spencer said into the phone. He heard her gasp and then frantically started apologizing, “Oh my goodness! I am so sorry! I was just so happy to talk to you I didn’t realize. I-“

Spencer cut her off with a “Hey. It perfectly okay. I love talking to you. If it were possible, I would never sleep if it meant I could talk to you forever.”

Y/n couldn’t stop smiling, “Well guess what doc. You’re kind of stuck with me get ready for me to never stop talking.” Spencer laughed softly, “I am definitely okay with that.”

As soon as the jet landed, Spencer texted y/n to let her know they were back. What he didn’t expect was for her to be standing in the bullpen with Penelope. Spencer couldn’t help but practically sprint to her, ignoring the knowing looks from his teammates.

When reached her, he wrapped her in a hug. Y/n giggled as she hugged him back. When they pulled apart Spencer asked, “What are you doing here?” Y/n shrugged and looked towards Penelope who had left her side to join the others and said, “Reasons.” She looked back at Spencer and winked. Spencer laughed and shook his head as he wrapped her in another hug.

Spencer and y/n left with Spencer promising to finish the paperwork first thing the following week. Once they were outside y/n turned to Spencer and said, “Okay so the main reason I couldn’t wait any longer to see you is I want to ask you something?”

Spencer turned his head and squinted his eyes, “Should I be scared?” Y/n barked out a laugh and grabbed Spencer’s hand. He stared where their hands were joined. Y/n must have thought he didn’t want to hold her hand because she noticed him staring and let go.

Y/n became a little nervous as she asked, “I- I wanted to ask you to be my plus one at an art show tomorrow. This will be the second art show my work has been in and I’m extremely nervous and would love for you to be there.”

Spencer smiled, feeling beyond flattered that she would want him there. He grabbed her hand the same way she had before and said, “I would love nothing more.”

That following night at the art show Spencer knew for certain he was completely consumed with feelings for y/n. He couldn’t help but to admire how her face lit up every time she talked about her work with other guests. It fills him with pride every time she would turn away the champagne that is offered. What really sets his heart ablaze is how y/n would reach for his hand every time she moved on to another art piece or to speak to someone else. It was as if y/n wanted, needed him. Whether it was for comfort or confidence Spencer was happy to be either of those things for her.

Towards the end of the night Spencer and y/n had finally found a moment to be alone. They stood in front of a painting that kind of reminded Spencer of the mermaid from that one Disney movie Penelope made him watch.

Y/n must have thought so also because as she looked at the painting she said, “You know I am really glad you have become a part of my world.” Y/n turned her head to look at Spencer there was a gleam in her eye. Spencer responded by saying, “Is there any way I can always be a part of your world?”

Y/n responded by kissing Spencer, putting ever amount of emotion she felt into it. The kiss was more vibrant and meaningful than any art she could ever dream of creating.

Permanent Taglist: @criminalmindzjunkie @brooklynxnicole @the-queen-of-moons @imdefinitelyfloating @muffin-cup @theintimatewriter @averyhotchner @spenxerslut @spenciegoob @april-14-blog

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #fanfic #fanfiction

212 notes · View notes

drabsyo · 3 years ago

Note

Drabs, I know that you usually draw Fleur with slightly darker blonde hair than Narcissa. Was it a choice so that it’s easier to distinguish them from each other or was your Fleur maybe slightly influenced by the actress from the movie who had darker hair?

In the books Fleur didn’t seem to have much description other than having long silvery hair (waist length?) and having this glow around her. So like with Narcissa, what works have influenced your design of Fleur?

It’s fascinating sometimes to read the artist’s perspective and your previous reply to the anon about Narcissa has been very interesting.

Thank you!!! 🥺

I was actually pretty embarrassed over how enthusiastic I got over the whole hair thing, but I'm glad it made some sense at least 😂 And now that I've been given even more reason to talk about it... (Let's face it, I shouldn't even be allowed on this website to begin with, ya'll have been way too nice to me.)

Only click on keep reading if you want to read Some Nonsense.

I did consider Fleur's actress when I thought about her hair color. Though I pictured it to be something of a mix between movie Fleur and Elsa’s (from Frozen) hair. But the way I drew Fleur's hair, the way it falls across her shoulders, that was more of... well, I imagined Fleur to have effortlessly perfect hair, like she doesn't seem to need to style it so much because it's already whimsical as it is, what with her being part-Veela. There were a lot of fanfictions that helped me to sort of see a better image of Fleur in my head so really, I owe it to all the talented writers out there!

It's also the same with Narcissa's case. Though I decided to give her paler hair, compared to Fleur's, because I wanted to emphasize that air of vulnerability Narcissa has—this image she conjures, like she's this fragile thing made of glass, which typically in fanfiction is what Narcissa uses so that Voldemort would overlook her a lot, hence why she wasn't given any "missions" or "tasks" while Voldemort was in Malfoy Manor. Slytherin preservation. This "fragile" image was something Narcissa capitalized on and maintained perfectly, but in post-war Cissamione fanfictions, she no longer has to put on that façade—she starts living for herself, but the quiet sadness about her never really goes away.

I really did struggle at first, I had to find a way where I could draw them without confusing people and myself.

So, again, I sifted through a lot of canon and non canon material about these two characters which funnily enough made me see some kind of parallel going on between them. I know. Fleur Delacour and Narcissa Black. Parallels?! It's nuts. But again, this is only within Fleurmione and Cissamione fanfiction, and it really helped me to draw them better. (At least in a way that made them distinguishable from one other at first glance, I’d like to think.)

These 'hair scenes' are mostly the bits where Hermione "first" sees Fleur. Hermione is entranced, a little curious, sometimes she feels indifferent, but the general theme is Hermione immediately finds Fleur beautiful—which probably explains why Hermione in fanfiction sometimes thinks Narcissa could be part-Veela like Fleur. And as you can imagine, that's where my struggle began.

You'll see what I mean in a minute. And just like last time, remember that this part comes with spoilers.

🔹 In Fighting is our form of Flirting by InsomniacAndBi in Chapter 2 Hermione sees Fleur for the first time. This is the first Fleurmione fanfiction I've ever read, and also the first time I've encountered Fleur's character. Tall, bright blonde hair, won the genetic lottery, aristocratic features, face held in a scowl, floats into the room with effortless poise, immediately starts demanding things out of people... Sounds vaguely familiar, doesn't it. Like some other blonde we know.

"Non!" A voice from the doorway said. "This is not what was agreed."

For a moment, Hermione thought about ignoring it but turned to glance over there if only to quell her curiosity. A girl stepped into the room and Hermione's phone call was forgotten in a moment. She knew that it wasn't nice to stare but Hermione couldn't help but do it because, in all honesty, this was the prettiest girl she had ever seen. She was definitely taller than Hermione was, with bright blonde hair and...clearly she had won the genetic lottery.

Her skin practically glowed and it looked so smooth and soft. It made Hermione wonder if she used those fancy beautification charms or had a very lengthy skincare routine. Or maybe, just maybe, this is what being rich did to people's faces. There was no doubt in Hermione's mind that this girl was rich - like extremely rich, like even rich people thought she was rich. That kind of rich. That was the type of rich that this girl was.

Also, only super rich people curled up their lip like this girl was doing.

She breezed into the room like she was floating and Hermione hastily ended her phone call and promised to call back later.

"This is not what was agreed," The girl said again and Hermione felt incredibly small sitting in front of her. Not to mention, the girl's clothes screamed 'I'm rich and I know it' and Hermione's screamed 'I'm so out of place that I might as well be a bull in a China shop'.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Hermione managed to get out when it became apparent that the girl was waiting for her response.

"You are English." The girl looked shock for a moment at Hermione's accent before shaking her head angrily. "This is not what was agreed."

🔹 In Oath of Silver by i_shall_wear_midnight immediately in the first chapter, when Witcher Hermione first meets Fleur, it's something Hermione quickly notices. Vivid sapphire eyes. Silvery blonde hair that shimmered in the torchlight. And once again, right off the bat, Fleur is pushy. She wants things done her way. It’s just so cute how she doesn’t even let the fact that Hermione is a Witcher, an extremely dangerous outcast in society, get in the way of that.

(I'm sorry for this but I just have to gush about Oath of Silver. Hermione as a witcher is just so fitting for her character; she possesses that natural eye for detail that remarkable witchers have, witchers like Geralt and Vesimir (a skill that gets even more honed through the Witcher Trials). Hermione even has Geralt's dry sense of humor, a bit rough around the edges, brilliant, snippy without really meaning to (because she asks a lot of questions and would rather get to the point), but has a good heart.)

The witcher figured that would be the end of her human interactions for the evening, but only a few minutes later, the stunning newcomer from before appeared before her. Upon closer inspection, Hermione couldn’t imagine she wouldn’t be conspicuous in any group of people she happened to find herself immersed in. The woman was looking back at her with vivid sapphire eyes, and silvery blonde hair that shimmered even in torchlight. Her attire was travel-ready, but elegant.

“Bonsoir. You are a witcher, oui? Or perhaps a ‘witcheress’ is more accurate? I am not familiar with all the terms…” She watched the beautiful stranger patiently while she fumbled through Hermione’s professional title. As if the distinctive, amber colored cat-eyes hadn’t given her away, the brunette mused wryly. Eventually, the blonde gave up and sat herself down at Hermione’s table, her medallion twitching faintly as the stranger got settled. Hermione filed that away for later. Her new dinner buddy seemed to be oblivious to the curious and concerned looks now being thrown her way at boldly taking a seat at a mutant’s table.

“I came from Ellander,” she began in a non sequitur. “The temple, and spoke to the priestess Nenneke, who told me about you.” Hermione continued eating her second serving of stew and waited for her to get to the point. “I would like to hire you as an escort as I travel back to Toussaint.” The witcher finally put her spoon down.

“Sounds like you ought to be asking some mercenaries to be your bodyguards,” she responded, eyeing the bow the woman was carrying on her pack meaningfully.

“A pair seems doable, and I’d prefer you.”

“I’m not a bodyguard.”

“Yes, technically, I am aware,” she replied, beginning to show signs of impatience.

“Then why are you soliciting a monster-slayer?”

🔹 Witnessed here in Time and Blood by whistle.the.silver is probably the most interesting one because it uses the concept of Veela hair as a wand core brilliantly. Again, this comes with huge 🛑spoilers🛑. Read the italicized words at your own risk. I can't add the entire clip here, as the topic of Fleur's hair is littered throughout several other chapters. But this story shows us a Fleur who is willing to do anything in order to protect Hermione during the course of the war.

My memory is a bit foggy, I haven't read this story in months, but here's what I remember:

This takes place during the time of Shell Cottage, where Fleur is married to Bill and takes care of Hermione. Fleur didn't expect to fall in love with the young brunette and, as the Golden Trio's time in Shell Cottage comes to an end, she worries over Hermione's safety. Fleur, using magic only known to the Veela tribes, does her best to offer Hermione protection in any way that she can--even going as far as to study what Lily Potter did so Harry could live. At one point, Fleur cuts her own hair with a length now roughly above her shoulders to give Hermione a new wand. But this isn't the only bridge Fleur is willing to cross to make sure Hermione survives the incoming battle. Fleur's grandmother, Ron, and even Bill himself, is a little sceptic over the propriety of Fleur's actions, but Fleur is determined to do whatever it takes to make sure Hermione makes it out of the war safe and alive.

So that was a lot to wade through, I know.

But if you've skipped all those parts for the sake of missing spoilers then let me go ahead and explain why the parallel between Fleur and Narcissa are there. Sure, it's plain to see that they have similar physical characteristics, but they're also similar in other ways.

In Witnessed here in Time and Blood, Fleur is willing to do whatever it takes to protect Hermione during the war: sacrifice the secrets of the Veela, make Hermione a wand, make her marriage and friendship with Bill suffer, be scrutinized by her Veela tribe, etc. And didn't Narcissa do the exact same thing during the war to make sure Draco made it out alive? They both chose to 'betray' everyone else for the sake of this one person. Not to mention, in Extinction by rubikanon Narcissa even makes Hermione a wand. (I’m telling you, there are so many parallels between these two ships and I can probably list more but I'd rather not make this post longer.)

Here, I’m just going to go ahead and say it—it’s almost like Fleur and Narcissa in fanfiction have the same love language.

A glaringly obvious difference between them is their upbringing, and we could argue that this why Fleur tends to be more open with her emotions while Narcissa tends to be more carefully guarded with hers. And I don't know if writers realize these parallels but as someone who's a huge fan of both characters and as someone who makes the occasional fanart of them, it's a pretty difficult detail to ignore. This crazy conspiracy all started because I had to find a way to make both characters look distinct from one another... It's just so interesting that writers from two different ships unknowingly make these parallels with two completely separate characters who are often at the opposite ends of the seesaw.

But again, let's take a look at Extinction by rubikanon. (I know. Extinction?! AGAIN?! Always.)

Spoiler warning!

🔹 Extinction by rubikanon has a marvelous take on this, as it turns out Fleur and Narcissa are actually good friends, and if I remember correctly, occasionally exchange letters (I’m unsure about this bit, I might have read it in a different story). They just get along remarkably well; I imagine they both share a kind of mutual respect for each other, a quiet understanding for the way the other woman carries herself: poised, meticulous, they pride themselves in their work, they both know how to handle an Ocean Of Secrets™, they're both accustomed to being under the spotlight of the public eye, and they’re both dedicated to their loved ones. Needless to say, Fleur and Narcissa are both giddy over the prospect of being with someone they love and adore, and end up meticulously planning numerous (I think it was hinted) double dates (Fleur with Bill, and Narcissa with Hermione) with the same kind of endearing enthusiasm that leave Hermione and Bill with no choice but to agree to the whims of their respective lovers.

(Scene seen in Chapter 23: Build Up Your Defense 2 of 2)

Narcissa and (Hermione) I were sitting together on one of the couches when Bill and Fleur arrived later. They showered Teddy with kisses on his little cheeks. He'd gotten past his clingy phase and adored us all, struggling to walk around the room by bracing himself on everyone's knees.

Suddenly Narcissa reached up and grabbed onto someone's wrist behind her head. "Don't even think about it," she said.

"That's just scary. How did you know I was there?" George stood up from behind the couch, a toy spider dangling from his hand. Teddy shrieked with laughter.

"She has eyes in the back of her head," Draco said.

"Mothers," George grumbled, sitting down close to Angelina. "Dump her, Hermione. I need you to date someone more prankable."

Fleur looked in surprise at the two of us on the couch. "Oh, la vache! How did I not know zees? You are lovers?"

"We're dating," I said mildly, though we really were lovers. In every sense. I glanced at Narcissa and bit my lip as heat spread through me. My imagination started planning a middle-of-the-night rendezvous.

"No wonder she (Narcissa) was so adamant about healing that curse," Bill said thoughtfully.

"Adorable! Simply adorable!" Fleur exclaimed, sitting down on Narcissa's other side. "We must go out for a double date next week, all four of us. We'll dine at L'Escargot!"

Narcissa's eyes lit up.

"Oh, no," I said.

"You won't have to eat snails," Narcissa said. "Please, mon amour?"

"French doesn't work on me."

"Please?" She kissed my cheek again and again. "Please? Please?"

Laughing now, I pulled her in for a kiss on the lips and said, "Yes, alright. But only because I have fond memories of trying new foods with you."

"As do I," she agreed.

Then we realized everyone was staring. Narcissa cleared her throat and straightened up, blushing. Draco made a face. Ginny looked a little more favorable. Harry held in laughter, and Andromeda hid her camera.

"Adorable!" Fleur declared again.

🔹 Also, I just have to add Sugar and Spice by waltzlikeits1698 because Chapter 4: Happy Birthday, Harry is absolutely hysterical. During Harry's birthday party, Hermione sulks in a corner because Fleur has apparently been avoiding her. Ginny decides to do something barking mad, something Hermione typically falls for.

“Ooh, someone’s grouchy,” Ginny teased, retracting her arm and facing Hermione fully. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” Hermione insisted, although even she could hear the pout in her voice.

“Sure seems like it,” she snarked, summoning two shots and offering one to Hermione with a waggle of her eyebrows. Hermione pulled a face and Ginny shrugged before downing both, one after the other. (...) “You know, I spotted a tall, blonde drink of water hanging around the stairs.”

“What!?” Hermione exclaimed, whirling around and leaning out of the room to look at the staircase. Sure enough, standing at the bottom and resting a slender hand on the bannister was a tall, blonde witch who made Hermione’s heart stop with her mere presence. She had started forward before she knew it, her heart taking up an even quicker beat as she crossed the few steps and reached out a hand to clasp her elbow. The woman turned, that beautiful blonde hair catching the candlelight as it moved in one long sheet.

Hermione retracted her hand in horror, her eyes widening. “Mrs Malfoy!?”

Narcissa Malfoy raised an eyebrow at the witch who had practically accosted her. “Miss Granger. Can I help?”

What was she even doing here?

“Uh,” Hermione said dumbly, “sorry, I just… need the loo. Can I-?”

She gestured lamely to the staircase. Both women stared at the perfectly reasonable gap that Hermione could easily pass through. The moment stretched on.

Slowly, Narcissa returned her inscrutable gaze to Hermione, who squirmed uncomfortably in response. She then took a small step to the side and gestured for Hermione to pass. She did so and, as she turned the corner of the staircase, sent a deadly glare at Ginny, who was practically pissing herself with laughter.

(...)

Fleur had arrived. Hermione couldn’t explain exactly how she could tell, considering she had been in the duplicated bathroom for the last ten minutes after humiliating herself in front of Narcissa, but she knew it like she knew that it was levi-O-sa.

(...) (Hermione) She tried to avoid eye contact with Narcissa on the way back down and was thoroughly unsuccessful: the witch had physically reached out and laid her own hand over Hermione’s on the bannister, forcing her to stop and look up. Then, with an intention behind her eyes that Hermione had neither the brain capacity nor the energy to delve into, she said “It’s Ms Black now.”

Then she had released Hermione’s hand and turned back to her conversation with Andromeda and two wizards Hermione didn’t recognise.

Come to think of it, there were a lot of people Hermione didn’t recognise.

Anyway, long story short, this is the result of reading both Fleurmione and Cissamione—

But RIGHT. At the end of the day, again, these are just some crazy little things I picked up on and I may or may not be right, no one has to agree with me, everyone can disagree with me. Actually, yes feel free to disagree with me. I need to get out of this damn site and you know, touch grass.

Okay. Well. I'm gonna stop here now. So. Bye. But thank you anon for this lovely ask!! I’m really touched that you wanted to know what inspired the way I drew Fleur 🥺💕💖 But still. So sorry for this massive word vomit!! 😂

#fleurmione #cissamione #fleur delacour #narcissa black #narcissa malfoy #hermione granger #stupid rants #drabstuff #yall im telling you im the mad scientist but remove all the science

79 notes · View notes

crash-cinematic-universe · 4 years ago

Text

tiger lilies, self destructing, and richard siken

pairing: peter maximoff/reader

summary: to peter maximoff, love is an anomaly that scares him more than anything else. however, you might be able to help him overcome his fear.

warnings: language! but that’s about it. kind of cheesy at some points but yknow what im not lactose intolerant

notes: this is the monsterous fic thats been kicking my ass this past week (6.2k words babey!!!) i was originally going to add ~~steamy~~ section to this one but i decided against it to make it readable for those who don’t wanna see that kind of stuff. if you want me to separately publish that then just lmk!! (if any of yall wanna talk about richard siken to me then please do, his work is so good)

taglist: @stranger-names , @gooseyhouse , @parkersdarling

To Peter Maximoff, physical affection has always been a touchy subject-- no pun intended. His speed is a blessing, but also a bitter curse. He moves at the speed of sound, bouncing off the walls and tearing up the roads; he moves impossibly fast, and no one ever tries to catch up with him. People get tired of Peter rather quickly, not bothering to get attached to him when they know they can’t keep up.

That’s why it’s so jarringly startling when you decide to stick around. When faced with the grand decision of throwing in the towel and leaving Peter behind or sticking around and trying your best, you chose the latter. It was surprising, to say the least. Peter waited patiently for the distance between the two of you to start growing; he waited for the void you once filled to open up again. However, the void never emptied, and the distance never grew.

To anyone else, this would be a wonderful experience. Knowing that you wouldn’t be left behind or forgotten about would be comforting to anyone else in Peter’s position. However, this did the exact opposite for Peter. He wasn’t comforted or relaxed, on the contrary, he was always on edge. The future was cruel, and the mystery of it all felt like torture.

To quote the great Richard Silken, “Someone has to leave first. This is a very old story. There is no other version of this story.” Peter lived and breathed by this ideology, that everyone he loves would have to leave eventually, whether it be by their own volition or not. It was obvious that you didn’t plan on abandoning ship anytime soon, so Peter decided he’d take matters into his own hands. If you weren’t going to be the first one to walk away, then he’d be the one to run away from you. He soon came to learn that loneliness was at its most bitter when you’ve come to taste the sweetness of love.

Love was a strange, complicated beast that Peter Maximoff had never dealt with before. If he were to be completely honest, love scared him. It scared him more than dying scared him. To Peter, death was an escape. Death was the end of a tiring journey, it was safe and simple and easy. Love was the opposite, it was the mouth of a dragon and the edge of a blade. It was the beginning to something so fragile and powerful, something that could end in flames.

Peter realized he loved you on a summer afternoon. The sun was shining and you were in the shade. He sat down next to you, and within minutes Kurt and Ororo appeared at your side. They seemed so put together, so sure and strong. Peter felt out of place-- he felt as if he were standing outside of a cabin looking in through the window at your wonderful friendships. He watched with his nose pressed against the glass as you walked across the room and opened the cabin door to let him in.

Peter realized he was in love with you in the middle of the night. A thunderstorm raged outside the mansion walls and raindrops kept time as Peter walked down the hallway. You were sitting on the floor of the common room next to a dying fire, a book clenched tightly in your hands. For a moment, he just stood against a wall and watched you. As creepy as he felt, a part of him believed he’d ruin your night by making himself known. He was okay with being a fly on the wall if it meant he’d get to see you. Peter wondered if there was a world where he had the pleasure of knowing you, without you having the burden of knowing him.

Still, you saw him. And you knew him. And you waved him over with a smile. He felt the urge to run, to leave you here alone with yourself, but he stayed put. Then, one step at a time, he moved forward. He got closer and closer before he found himself standing at your feet.

“You’re welcome to stay,” you told him. He believed it. Peter sat down next to you, letting his shoulder brush against yours.

“What’re you reading?” He asked. Peter already knew what you were reading, he read the cover of the book the moment he sat down, but he still wanted to hear it from you.

“Crush by Richard Siken,”

“Oh. What’s it about?” Peter already knew what it was about. He’d read it at least fifty times.

“It’s kind of hard to explain. I’d much rather just read it to you and let you decide for yourself,” Peter’s stupid little heart lurched, and he almost cried at the thought. He held it together, though.

“That would be nice,” He said softly.

“Sorry about all the writing in the margins, I can’t help myself sometimes.” Peter scanned the sides of the pages, marveling at your notes. Some of them were reactions, littered with exclamation points and question marks and bold letters. Some of them were underlined phrases and little doodles-- most notably a little drawing of a chameleon on a tiger lily. He loved them.

“It’s okay. Literature is meant to be marked up-- what’s the point of reading if you don’t get to share the love?”

“That’s a good point,” You grinned. Then, the reading began, and you allowed Peter to rest his head on your shoulder as you read to him. Even though he’d heard the poems a billion times by now, they sounded brand new coming from you. He listened closely. You were arriving at his favorite part, “You are Jeff” section 24.

“You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and he won’t tell you that he loves you, but he loves you...” You read on, not noticing the way Peter’s eyes had shifted from the book you were holding to your face. Peter’s mind wanders, and he curses himself for missing the lines you were reading “... You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and you’re trying not to tell him that you love him, and you’re trying to choke down the feeling, and you’re trembling, but he reaches over and he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist, and you feel your heart taking root in your body, like you’ve discovered something you didn’t even have a name for.”

Peter felt like he was going to cry. You kept reading and he kept looking. It was getting late, and Peter was getting tired. Your voice had softened and slowed, and the fire that was burning in the fireplace had all but died. Peter was the one that fell asleep first, and you followed closely after. Both of you had lingering smiles on your faces.

Intimacy is an odd thing, isn’t it? Thinking critically, intimacy is just vulnerability with more layers. It’s the closeness between people, it’s allowing yourself to connect with someone you care about. It’s stripping yourself down to muscle and bone and hoping the other person doesn’t let you bleed out. It’s a level of trust that is more than closing your eyes and falling backwards; it’s closing your eyes and letting them push you over the edge into the unknown, and trusting them enough to know you’ll be okay when you hit the ground.

It didn’t take long for Peter to realize that he had trouble with being intimate with other people. Too many times had trusted someone to push him over the edge, only to realize he’d be shattered when he hits the ground. After that, he decided intimacy was overrated. It’s not like anyone was going to have that kind of relationship with him, anyway.

Of course, then you came along and uprooted his entire worldview, like you had with everything else. He found himself thinking about you at every waking moment, which inevitably led to him… thinking about you at every waking moment, if you catch my drift. Sure, intimacy involves more than just physical intimacy, but Peter knows he can’t ignore the feeling that rises in his stomach whenever he’s around you. For the first year or so of your relationship, Peter became very familiar with the feeling of an ice-cold shower.

What Peter didn’t take into consideration was you. For some reason, Peter struggled to understand the fact that you were just as attracted to him as he was attracted to you. It was no secret that Peter was insecure, but he never really realized how much his insecurity affected his relationships. If he couldn’t love himself, how could anyone else? Peter is the only one who gets to see his persona in its truest form, and every time he has to avert his eyes. It’s safe to say his physical appearance has been the cause of very many painful-- and occasionally tear-filled-- sleepless nights.

He told you this. He told you everything. He told you about Erik, he told you about his childhood, he told you about everything he loved and hated and feared and yearned for. That ordeal alone was scary enough, knowing that at any moment you could decide you didn’t want to deal with him anymore, but as always, you stuck around. You told him everything. You told him about your family and your struggles. You told him about everything you loved and hated and feared and yearned for, and not once did Peter even think that he wanted to walk away. This is the kind of intimacy that, over the years, Peter had struggled with less and less.

Still, it was the sexual aspect of intimacy that freaked him out. It was a beast he’d never dealt with, a feat he’d never faced. That being said, as every day went by Peter became more and more… frustrated. He didn’t know how to approach the subject, so he'd just let the subject approach him and wing it.

And as he sat on his bed watching as you twirled around to Tears for Fears “Everybody Wants To Rule The World”, Peter realized he didn’t have much to worry about.

“Dance with me, dollface,” you laughed, reaching out for him. You looked like someone straight out of a movie, the lim blue light coming from Peter’s arcade machines illuminating a halo above your head. You put Molly Ringwald and Emilio Estevez to shame. Peter took your hand, grinning like an idiot as you twirled him around.

There he was, dancing in his mother’s basement with his favorite person in the entire world. He wasn’t a great dancer, and neither were you, but that didn’t matter. Peter was dreading this visit-- he hated the idea of being back in the basement that made him feel like a failure. But you assured him that you’d be there with him, and that getting to see his family would make it all worth it. His family isn’t what made it worth it, though.

“Brain Damage” by Pink Floyd came next, slower and a bit more somber, but still danceable. Your arms shifted to around his neck, pulling him closer than he already was. Somehow, you ended up with your back against the wall as the song came to a close. He kissed your forehead, then your cheek, then your lips.

“I love you,” Peter spoke softly. This was a small victory-- he’d been so scared of the mere idea of loving someone. You were the only one who got to hear his love confessions. They were for you, and for you only.

“I love you too,” Peter would never, ever get tired of hearing that. Knowing that you love him is enough to keep him going for a hundred years. And he knows the odds, he knows that love is rocky and painful as much as it is beautiful. He knows that love can feel sweet in the beginning and go sour overtime. He knows that first, second, third relationships don’t always work out. But he thinks this is going to work out. And Peter doesn’t think this will ever go sour. Maybe that’s his blissful ignorance talking, maybe he’s jinxing it, but at this moment, he doesn’t care. Right now he is at his happiest, at his most content.

“You wanna watch a movie?” You asked softly, pecking Peter on the cheek. He could feel the warmth radiating off of you, and Peter grinned. In an instant the tv across the room began playing the opening credits to the first movie that popped into his head.

“The Breakfast Club?” You questioned. Peter shrugged.

“What can I say, I’m a sucker for a good coming-of-age kind of movie,”

You sat against the headboard of Peter’s bed, allowing Peter to settle beside you. Your head rested on his shoulder, and he was quick to grab your hand. Peter loved the closeness. Over the past year, he’d come to realize he was a very affectionate person. Previously, Peter hadn’t known soft, physical love; the only time anyone would ever touch him would be as punishment or defense, not love. Love. Peter had gotten more comfortable with the idea of love, because when he thinks of love he thinks of you.

Every good story has a villain. A villain that you love to hate, or hate to love. A villain you can sympathize with, a villain you can’t excuse, a villain that the mere mention of makes you sick to your stomach. An unexpected villain. An obvious villain. A villain that’s just trying his goddamn best. Sometimes the villain is defeated, sometimes the villain changes their evil ways. Sometimes the villain dies and the crowd cheers.

Peter Maximoff never thought he’d be the villain of his own story. He tried his hardest to be a good person, but there was always that side of him that made him afraid. He was like an explosive; whenever someone got too close, he’d detonate and destroy everything around him. It was a self-defense tactic, albeit counterproductive.

It killed you to see him that way. He told you about the relationships he’d lost to himself. He told you about the abandonment and the loneliness. It broke your heart. He tried to distract himself, drowning himself in work so he’d never have the opportunity to ruin what he had with you. Peter Maximoff was a walnut tree; every time he planted his roots and began to grow, he’d kill anything that grew too close. However, the constant working started to wear Peter down.

It started with the late nights. He’d collapse next to you at four AM, knocking out the minute his head hit the pillow. Still, he’d be awake before you were, already scrambling around trying to complete various tasks. He was like a machine that was running from it’s problems. The late nights turned to all-nighters, and the few hours Peter managed to salvage set aside for sleep had shrunk to a few minutes at a time. He didn’t eat anything with even a hint of nutritional value. At this rate, he was going to work himself to death.

The worst part? Peter knew what he was doing. He wasn’t stupid. He just needed to shut up the little voice in his head that urged him to act out. The entirety of his childhood, Peter destroyed what he created. The need to be isolated, the feeling that he deserves to be alone spread throughout his body like a cancer. He locked himself away in the basement, trying desperately to stay out of everyone’s way so they wouldn’t shut him out. People tried to coerce him out of his cave, to pull him out of the bottomless pit he threw himself into. Peter saw them as the sirens trying to lure him into the ocean of loneliness, and he wasn’t going to fall for it. In his eyes, anyone who tried to help him were the villains of his amazing, heroic tale. Fortunately for him, one by one, they started to give up on helping him. They thought he was a lost cause; a fucking loser who was destined to wallow in his own self-pity until he died. At first, this was a triumph. He defeated them, he outwitted the sphinx and slayed the dragon. But a part of him hated himself for becoming the worst-case scenario that every parent feared their child would grow up to be.

He pulled himself out of his pit and back onto his feet, all by himself. It was hell on Earth, but he did it. That cancerous feeling of uselessness retracted back into itself, now residing in the place next to Peter’s heart. However, that horrifying fear of becoming a burden began to grow again, this time when Peter was in his mid-20s. He began to overcompensate, and that led him to where he was; always on the brink of collapse, running on nothing but coffee and twenty minutes of sleep. In return, Peter got to have friends. In his mind, that was fair. In your mind? Not even close.

You managed to catch him in his bedroom as he was in the midst of simultaneously scribbling in a notebook and reading an open novel. Peter Maximoff would always be the most beautiful person in the world in your eyes, but at that moment, he looked like hell. Your plan seemed foolproof, but then again, you weren’t sure what you were walking into. Lately, Peter didn’t seem like himself. Probably because of the lack of sleep.

“Peter?” He looked up at you, eyes half-lidded. “I got you something.”

“You did?” A sleepy smile was all he could muster, but that was google enough for you.

“I did. It’s to mark exactly three years since I first met you,” you sat down on his bed, placing the small wrapped book right next to you. Peter glanced at the calendar on the wall-- oh god, you were right. It’s been three years to the day and he forgot. He deserves the title of “World’s Worst Boyfriend”. Scott will probably be upset that he’s losing his title.

“What’re you up to?”

“Finishing up some old work I’ve been putting off,” he punctuated his sentence with a yawn. “Some of my old work and some of Hank’s, too.” “Why are you doing Hank’s work?”

“He seemed stressed about something, thought I might help clear his head,” The sentiment is sweet, you’ll give him that.

“Alright, well, can we talk for a minute?” Alarm bells went off in Peter’s brain. There has never, in the history of the universe, been a good conversation that started with ‘can we talk for a minute?’ or any of it’s cruel variants.

“Actually, I’m kind of busy right now, can this wait?” It was obvious that the answer to that was no, but still, he felt the need to ask.

“Not really, no. It’s important.” Peter saw the next few seconds playing out in his head. The inevitable had come to fruition; you realized that you could do better, and now you were cutting him loose. He couldn’t blame you, not really, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t going to rip him to shreds. He realized that whatever you brought for him was most likely a parting gift. How sweet.

“Oh. Alright.”

“Well, I’m going to give it to you straight,” you sighed. “I’m worried about you, Peter.”

Oh. He’s heard this speech before, he knows the spiel. He can vaguely recall a guidance counselor telling him the exact same thing before Peter decided to call him a slew of expletives. The tar pit in his chest began to grow.

“I’m fine.” This was a lie. The first lie in a long chain of lies that Peter was about to tell to you, his favorite person in the world. He loved you, but in that moment his vision clouded over. You weren’t the person he loved and cherished anymore, no, you were just another faceless blur that provided a temporary escape.

“Really? I feel like you’re pushing everyone away, you’re pushing me away.” Peter was becoming more and more irritated by the second.

“I told you, I’m fine. I’m not pushing you away.

“Don’t lie to me,” your voice is firm and unwavering. “You don’t sleep, you almost never eat-- I don’t think I’ve seen you stand still for more than three minutes once in the past month--”

“That’s just how I am,” Peter huffs. He wanted this conversation to be over. “That’s not your problem.”

“Your wellbeing is my problem, Peter, that’s the whole point of being friends with someone. Even more so now, because you’re my partner and I care about you--”

“Then stop,” Peter rolled his eyes. He's more irritable than normal-- most likely because he hasn’t slept in days. He could almost feel the venomous arms of isolation creeping around him. It’s a sick pattern, he knows; every time someone gets close to him, he feels the need to self-destruct before they lose interest. Even now, even after all this time, Peter’s still powerless against the poison in his veins.

“What?” You’re losing your reserve and your stature. He can tell. You’re slouching and picking at the cuticles on your thumb. It’s almost as if he’s been shoved into the back seat, and is now being forced to watch as a stranger takes the wheel and crashes the car. So much frustration, so much hurt, and it’s all coming out right now, onto you. Peter already regrets this entire interaction, but still, he manages to spit acid.

“Stop caring. Just leave, I know you want to. I know every night, you lie awake and think about all the different ways you can leave me in the dust. Not that it would matter to me.” This is another lie. Your eyes flash with hurt, but you stay put. You know he’s just being an asshole because he’s exhausted and too stubborn to admit that you’re right. He’s egging you on intentionally, trying to get you to snap and walk away.

“Peter, god, I love you but sometimes you can be so...”

“So what? C’mon, be honest with me,” He huffed.

“Frustrating,” You surrendered. The poise you once held was gone. “I know it isn’t your fault-- I know you’ve trusted so many people so deeply and been betrayed or sold out and I know you’ve loved so many times and been thrown to the curb without a second thought. But I don’t know what I can do to convince you that I’m here for you, and that I love you. I’ve tried everything, and it feels like I’m talking to a brick wall. I want to make this work, but I need you to work with me.” It’s evident in your voice that you’re desperate. You’re just hoping you’ll get through to him, somehow. “I need you to want it as bad as I do-- hell, I need you to want it at all.” Here it comes--

“You ever think, maybe, I just don’t want you to be that person for me? I’ve spent my life being independent, my entire existence so far has been built around the fact that I’m going to end up alone. People come and people go-- people like you and Charles-- and they tell me they care. They tell me that they love me and that they're here for me. And then they get tired of me and they leave. I wish that you would just leave me the fuck alone and let me live in solitude,” There it was. The lie to end all lies. The words tasted awful coming out of his mouth, and the whole ordeal left his mouth tasting very… sour. Peter had to look away, he couldn’t look at the expression on your face.

“Fine. If that’s what you want.” Your eyes never met his, but you paused before you exited the room. “I know you’re probably just… I don’t know, going through something, but you’re being an asshole. Don’t talk to me until you’ve sorted your shit out. Enjoy your solitude.” You left the room impossibly fast, your fists clenched so tightly Peter feared that your nails would break the skin on your palms. He struggled to keep it together-- why the fuck did he do that?

Peter collapsed onto his bed, and it’s only then that he realized you left behind the gift you got him. A part of him thought he should return it to you, but the other part of him urged for it to be opened. He tore the wrapping paper off before he realized what he was doing. The hardcover book the wrapping paper concealed was handbound, the cover littered with your beautifully familiar handwriting. In big, bold letters The Best of Poetry in the Humble Opinion of Y/n L/n was scrawled at the top.

Peter vividly remembers a late night you spent talking to him. You told him about your favorite poems, outlining each and every little detail you loved about them. Some of them he’d read already, some of them he hadn’t, but all of them sounded like artwork coming from you. He opened the front cover, and you’d written something else on the inside.

“In the words of the wonderful Peter Maximoff, ‘What’s the point of reading if you don’t get to share the love?’. This is me, sharing the love.”

Carefully, Peter opened to a random page in the book. He saw the notes in the margins and the doodles and the exclamation points and before he knew it Peter was on the verge of tears. He was barely containing himself, and then he read a specific annotation you made.

He had opened to the first page of “The Worm King’s Lullaby”, one of your all-time favorites. A specific line was underlined, one that Peter was all too familiar with: “Someone has to leave first. This is a very old story. There is no other version of this story.” Beside it, you wrote:

“As much of a genius Mr. Siken is, I have to disagree with this. If you love someone enough, you’ll never leave them and they’ll never leave you. Even if they die, even if things don’t work out, you’ll always have a little part of them to carry with you. Carry this part of me with you, Peter. Not that I plan on leaving anytime soon.”

That was it. The floodgates broke. Everything that Peter had held back came pouring out-- the past 10 minutes finally caught up with him, and they hit him like a bus. He sat in the corner of his bedroom, his knees pulled up to his chest so tightly he thought his legs would snap. Peter wanted to rip all his hair out or punch a hole in the wall or hold his head underwater until he was nothing but an obituary and a headstone. His chest burned and the pit of despair inside his chest had overtaken his system, and he hated himself with a burning passion. Why did he do that? Why did he do that? Why the fuck did he do that?

Peter Maximoff had his breakdown in solitude, revealing in the fact that he was, undeniably, the villain of his own life.

As it turns out, ‘getting his shit together’ is much harder than Peter originally anticipated. He's trying, he really is, but it's hard. Especially without you there. Peter knows that he fucked up, and he knows that he needs to work for your forgiveness. And don’t worry, he’s going to work for it.

It had only been a week, but the entire mansion could tell that something was off. Life just wasn’t the same without the randomized gusts of wind that would knock people off their feet; no one had been seriously injured or had something stolen from them. The whirlwind that was mansion life, while still chaotic, lost it’s fun.

Charles tried to keep things running smoothly, but he was an old man and didn’t exactly understand you and Peter. People would knock on your door every now and then, but you didn’t answer. You were much too busy analyzing exactly how much of a bitch you were being-- realistically, the answer is 0%, but you didn’t see it that way. No, from your perspective, you saw Peter having a mental breakdown and you ditched him. Pretty shitty move.

What you didn’t realize was that Peter was doing the exact same thing, however, the blame falls mostly on his shoulders, and boy does he know it. He’s been scripting his grand apology, trying desperately to find the right words to express exactly how sorry he is. Peter was never very good with words-- it’s always too hard to know if you’re going to say the wrong thing and mess everything up. Although, it’s hard to see how the scenario could get any worse.

He made the executive decision to start with “I’m sorry”-- a solid start to any apology. Sure, he could stop there, but Peter realized that he’d probably need more to win back his partner. So, he managed to scribble down a few more lines on a tiny notecard he was supposed to use for studying. Oh, what a wondrous redemption arc this would be; Peter gets into a fight with his wonderful partner and ruins their relationship and then struggles to come up with a coherent apology.

“I’m sorry about what I said, that was shitty. I shouldn’t have said that.” Peter’s eyebrows furrowed in frustration. God, he was going to die alone, wasn’t he? Maybe this is the cruel punishment the world is dealing to him, the universe is deciding that Peter’s redemption arc would be better if it, well, didn’t exist. Even so, he isn’t planning on giving up or giving in just yet.

He scrapped what he had so far and started at the beginning once again. His 9th grade english teacher would tell him to write about what he knows, and though he doesn’t know much, he’s an expert when it comes to himself. Peter knows how he feels about you, he knows how sorry he is, and he knows that he really, really, really wants you to know that he didn’t mean a word he said about not wanting you. Peter knows about love, at least a little bit, and he realizes he’ll need more than just words.

His mind drifts to that night, years ago, in front of the fireplace. He vividly remembers a tiger lily and a chameleon scribbled in the margins of your book. Realistically, Peter couldn’t get his hands on a chameleon, but a tiger lily was a different story. In high school, Peter took a botany course because he thought it’d be easy. It wasn’t, it was boring as all hell, but it seems like his slacking paid off. He knew tiger lilies were indigenous to Asia, but they’d become quite common along New England-area roadways.

Peter grabbed his jacket and took off, tearing through the roads like his life depended on it. In less than 10 minutes, Peter found himself in the middle of New Hampshire drenched in rain. In hindsight, he probably should’ve checked the weather before leaving. Nevertheless, he takes off into the small wooded area that laid passed the road’s end. Dozens of mushrooms dotted the muddy ground and mossy rocks clouded his peripheral vision. The rain begins to lighten as he spots a bright orange tiger lily peeking through the remains of a tree stump. He sprints over to it.

The tiger lily is bloomed and beautiful and Peter can’t tear his eyes away from the wide array of speckles and splotches and color. It’s pristine, but some of the petals are torn or wilting. The roots stretch into the stump below it, and Peter leans closer. The stump is old and worn, fungi and bugs eat away at the base next to a large hole where a family of worms reside. The stump is ugly, sure, but it’s useful. It helps keep the bugs fed and keeps the worms warm. There’s a metaphor here somewhere, but Peter is too distracted to find it.

He gently picks the flower and spins on his heel, taking off once again. The rain makes it harder to run, but it’ll take a lot more than water to stop Peter. By the time Peter gets back to Xavier’s the flower is a little crushed, but it’s still somewhat pristine.

He has the flower, he has the apology, and now all he needs is courage. Thankfully, that courage comes quickly as he instinctively knocks on your bedroom door. He probably should’ve stopped to collect himself, but he was riding a wave of adrenaline that wouldn’t come back.

“Go away, Jean,” You called from inside. You sounded tired, and it made Peter sad.

“It’s-- uh-- it’s not Jean,” Peter can hear your hesitant footsteps approaching the door, and suddenly the courage he managed to build up drained. His hands are shaking by the time you open the door. You look up at him, and Peter looks back at you, and suddenly everything is much harder to do. He looks down at his feet.

“Hi.” Your voice is hoarse, but clear.

“Hi.” Peter’s voice is uneven and quiet. You stand there in silence for a minute before Peter pipes up again.

“So, uh, you’re probably still mad at me and I get that, but I just want you to hear me out. I-If that’s okay,” You nod slowly, and Peter takes a deep breath. He thinks about the written apology that sat in his coat pocket, and he makes the last-minute decision to forget about it. He’ll speak from the heart, or, whatever people in rom-coms do.

“I’m sorry. It was really shitty of me to get angry at you because you were worried about me-- although, I guess shitty is an understatement. Everything that I said about, yknow, not wanting you or Charles or anyone else around anymore wasn’t true. I need you guys, and I love you guys and it was unfair of me to push you away. Solitude really sucks. I guess I’m just not very good at navigating relationships,” He exhales, and his chest shudders. “I understand if you don’t want to be with me anymore, I just thought I should make it clear how I feel.” It’s only then that he remembers about the tiger lily in his hand. “Oh, and this is for you.”

“A tiger lily?” you smiled softly. “These are my favorite-- how did you know?”

“I’m just observant, I guess. You usually draw them when you’re bored, I figured you’d like to see one in person,” You gently took the tiger lily in your hand. The silence that hung in the air was deafening, and Peter realized that was probably a bad sign. His chest drops just a bit, and he takes a small step backwards.

“I guess I should probably leave you alone--” Peter can’t get very far, because you immediately jump forward and wrap your arms around him. Eyes wide and heart pounding, you can feel Peter’s arms lock around your waist.

“Thank you,” You whispered. “Please don’t go.” Peter was smiling so hard his cheeks ached, and a horrible weight had been lifted off his shoulders. The close-contact was refreshing; he didn’t realize how much he missed it until that moment. He was pretty sure he would never, ever let you go. Not again.

To Peter Maximoff, physical affection has always been a touchy subject-- that is, until you came along. You proved to him that he deserved physical affection, that his mutation and his personality and weirdo quirks didn’t make him lesser or unlovable. Peter Maximoff deserved love, and you were the one who never failed to love him.

You sat on a wooden chair in front of the fireplace, reading to the group of children sitting at your feet. The emotional lines of “Snow and Dirty Rain” fell from your lips, and with every turning syllable the small group would listen just a little bit closer. Peter did, too, desperately trying to hear every single word you said. Class was almost over, and once the students were dismissed you’d probably stop reading.

“I made this place for you. A place for you to love me. If this isn't a kingdom then I don't know what is,” Your eyes tore away from the page to look at the kids at your feet. They fell upon Peter, and a smile erupted on your face.

Peter vaguely recalls the twisted idea of love that he held as a teenager. He thought love was a dragon to be defeated, a battle that could be won or lost. It’s clear now that love is the opposite-- it isn’t a fight or a battle or a thing to be conquered. It’s more like a flower; it needs to be cherished and cared for in order to grow. Sometimes the flower wilts and dies, and that’s natural, but sometimes the flower lasts for a lifetime.

Love wasn’t a dragon or a knight, it didn’t have a hero or a villain; it was much more like a tiger lily and a tree stump.

#Evan Peters #peter maximoff #pietro maximoff #pietro maximoff x reader #peter maximoff x reader #wandavision #xmen fanfiction #xmen

299 notes · View notes

cheri-translates · 4 years ago

Text

[CN] Gavin’s Blessings Date

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date, 祝福之约, which has not been released in EN! 🍒

[ This date was released on 28 April 2021 ]

In this desert, there are two legendary figures.

One is a young girl blessed by God, and the other is a bandit who strikes terror in people.

God will bestow the most valuable riches in the world to the young girl in the future, which makes everyone want to own her for themselves.

There is only one person who has absolutely no interest in her -

The bandit who has already seized all the gold, silver and jewels.

On this gloomy night, scorching heat seems to cover every inch of land.

A crowd is packed into the cage of a horse-drawn carriage. Lowering my head, I tighten the scarf on my neck.

All of a sudden, the carriage halts outside a large gate.

Bodyguard: We want to make a transaction with your chief, and we guarantee that you'd be satisfied.

Along with the gradual opening of the gate, what enters my vision is a high wall made of clay, and what looks to be a heavy guarded campground.

The carriage passes through a long sheltered corridor, halting in front of a large bonfire. After that, the slave owner pulls us down from the carriage roughly.

The slave owner before me is someone who commands great respect, and relies on human trafficking to earn huge amounts of money.

Slave owner: Gavin, I’ll go straight to the point.

Hearing the rumoured name, I lift my head towards the man seated on a chair.

Amber eyes reflect the flickering flames, shrouding a strong, dangerous aura.

He leans against the back of the chair, his taut clothes drawing the outline of his figure, revealing faintly discernible muscles.

He gives me a cold glance, then shifts his somewhat arrogant gaze away.

...this person is Gavin.

In this land, there’s nobody who doesn’t know him -

It’s been said that he has a magic carpet that can go up to heaven and down to Hades. It’s also been said that it’s simply a guise for his extraordinary power of wind control.

Not only that. For many years, he’s been stealing from the rich and giving to the poor, and is a thorn that can’t be pulled out from the hearts of the powerful.

Just as I’m thinking about this, the slave owner tears down my scarf, gripping my neck forcefully.

Slave owner: See this mark? She’s MC, the young girl blessed by God.

Young girl blessed by God?

Watching the desperate slave owner and Gavin in front of him, I force out a laugh.

Ten years ago, this inborn mark was bestowed meaning by a well-known wizard -

Wizard (in a flashback): Ten years later, our God will give her the most valuable riches.

Since then, I became the “treasure map” that everyone wanted, leading a life of being continuously captured and escaping.

Slave owner: Gavin, as long as you leave me alone in the future, she belongs to you.

Only the quiet sound of the burning bonfire is in the air, filled with a great sense of oppression.

Supporting his head with his right hand, he appears to turn a deaf ear to what the slave owner said.

Slave owner: Ten days later, the blessings will manifest! Riches might appear in an unending stream, and by then, you can do whatever you want!

Gavin: You travelled all the way here... to make me let you go?

A chilly wind suddenly disperses the sultriness of the surroundings. His slightly narrowed eyes are a contrast to the flames behind him, not at all masking his annoyance and derision.

The powerful aura assaults the senses, and the tips of my toes subconsciously shift backwards.

The reason why I allowed myself to be captured by the slave owner was to beat him at his own game, and get close to Gavin. But would I really be able to obtain information from such a powerful man?

A sense of unease surfaces, but I quickly suppress it.

The king said that as long as I helped him get rid of Gavin, I could obtain eternal freedom -

I have to give it a try.

Moonlight and flames intertwine and are reflected on Gavin’s face. Alarm surfaces on the slave owner’s face.

With forced hearty laughter, he tosses me aside. Respectfully, he fills Gavin’s cup to the brim with wine.

Slave owner: I’m sincerely here to do business with you.

Gavin glances at the wine glass by the side. With a curl of his lips, he picks up the glass, swaying it slowly.

He lowers his head and lifts his eyes slightly, the light in his pupils distinct.

But in the next second, he turns his wrist. The strong scent of alcohol diffuses in an instant.

Gavin: This wine is a little dirty. When you walked through this gate, you should have known what would happen.

The moment Gavin speaks, his men immediately surround the slave owner and his group.

Slave owner: ...you! Doing this just means both sides lose!

The corners of Gavin’s lips arch upwards, and there are hints of arrogance in his eyes.

Gavin: You seem to have forgotten one fact. I won’t lose.

After the final drop of wine slides off the glass, he releases his hand, and the wine glass strikes the table.

Along with a muffled sound, Gavin brandishes a scimitar and waves it at the feudal lord.

[Note] A scimitar is a short sword with a curved blade that broadens towards the point :>

The sharp blade reflects cold light as it brushes the nape of the slave owner’s neck. Gavin keeps his eyes fixed steadily behind the slave owner.

Gavin: Remember this. I never have to get the things I want through transactions. Get out of my campground.

The feudal lord doesn’t care about anything else, tumbling and stumbling out of the gate along with the bodyguard.

Peace is restored to the campground. A row of us are unshackled one after the other.

After attaining freedom, continuous sounds of appreciation can be heard from the crowd. However, I secretly glance at Gavin, who is afar off.

When everyone else has left, I brisk walk over to him.

MC: My name is MC. Gavin, I want to join you all!

The clamour suddenly stills. Only Gavin lifts his head unaffectedly.

Gavin: Why?

MC: Once I leave this place, I’d just get captured again. Everyone says that you’re the most powerful and most incredible person in the world, so this would be the safest place...

Gavin: This place isn’t a shelter. And I have no need to guarantee your safety.

Gavin interrupts me, his gaze focused on the rag used to wipe the blood off the blade’s tip.

MC: I won’t freeload. If my blessings manifest, I can give it all to you!

Gavin shoots a sharp gaze at me, lingering on my neck briefly before shifting it away.

Gavin: The root of your “so-called” blessings is merely empty talk.

MC: But that wizard said...

Gavin: So what if he’s a wizard? I’ve never pursued such illusory things. Such blessings might simply be a joke for the greedy. As far as I’m concerned, you don’t seem useful to my campground. So, MC, I don’t need you.

Gavin’s words nail me in place. He looks at me directly, and I can tell from his eyes that he has absolutely no regard for the blessings, as well as my presence.

For so many years, I’ve been a treasure map in the hearts of people, and a glittering treasure.

But in his eyes, it’s as though I’m not a young girl who was blessed by God. I’m simply MC.

Even if the prophecy said that the riches would manifest ten years later, those who are greedy would think that might just be the beginning, which is why everyone has been coveting this fantastic wealth.

But nobody has ever been like Gavin, telling me that it could be false.

My heart involuntarily quivers, as though something that I’ve always firmly believed in is beginning to stir.

I take a deep breath, brushing away the restlessness in my heart.

Whether or not I’m taking action according to plan, staying here is still the best choice.

I definitely have to stay.

MC: I’m not useless. Since young, I often get hurt while running away, so I’m very good at tending to wounds! Please give me a chance. I can prove myself!

He doesn’t speak, and simply looks at me quietly. Those amber eyes are deep with flittering light, as though he can see through me in an instant.

I clench my fists secretly, trying my best to look natural.

After an oppressive silence, he lifts his chin slightly. One of his men walks to me.

After I’ve finished bandaging all the injured people in the campground, I look at Gavin sincerely.

Gavin: Since you want to stay here so badly, I won’t stop you.

MC: Thank you. I just want to stay alive.

Those amber eyes narrow slightly when he hears this. Only the spluttering sounds of the burning wood remain in the air.

Gavin: In order to stay alive, you don’t care about anything else?

MC: ...yes.

All of a sudden, rapid footsteps can be heard from the gate. One of Gavin’s men leans over to him, and says something that I can’t hear.

Gavin glances at me, an unreadable smile flashing across his eyes. I stand in place, my heart feeling prickly.

Gavin: Go ahead. There aren’t any “outsiders” here.

The man nods respectfully. Straightening up, he faces the crowd.

Man: The Oasis Flower Garden that the new king ordered to be constructed has been completed ahead of schedule. The location of the coronation ceremony has been changed to the flower garden. Various neighbouring countries have also prepared countless treasures, and will be presenting them during the coronation ceremony.

After a moment of silence, a ray of sharp light flashes in Gavin’s eyes.

Gavin: Let’s go to the flower garden.

MC: Hang on, you’re going to steal the king’s objects?

Hearing information regarding the king, I can’t help but exclaim softly.

Gavin doesn’t seem to care about important information being disclosed, which makes me feel even more uneasy.

Is he very assured about his own plan, or is he suspicious of me, and deliberately wants to see my reaction?

Gavin: Is there a problem?

MC: ...n-no.

Gavin: Since the plan has been changed, we need to check out the flower garden beforehand. Those who know how to draw maps, step out.

His men look around at each other, none of them volunteering to step out. Looking at the silent surroundings, a risky idea formulates in my mind.

If I’m able to check out the area with them, I could find an opportune moment to tip the king off.

With this thought in mind, I take a step forward.

MC: ...I can. I’m very attuned to directions. As long as I walk through it once, I can remember everything.

In order to prove my point, I pick up a twig and draw the path I took earlier in the sand.

When I’ve finished drawing the details of the campground, the men reveal shocked expressions.

A sense of inquisitiveness even appears in Gavin’s eyes.

Gavin: When the time comes, I’ll send someone to the flower garden with you. But this place has never limited anyone’s freedom. You can leave whenever you want.

Gavin’s words seem indicate something. After speaking, he turns around and leaves. Meanwhile, my heart, which had been hanging in the air, is finally set down.

I’m officially responsible for the logistics work in the campground.

Based on my observations over the past two days, Gavin would head out with his men, then return from a rewarding journey.

He distributes the money strictly, ensuring that they are given out fairly to those who are in need and poverty-stricken.

Today, the night has just set in. As usual, Gavin returns with his troop.

He stands among the crowd calmly, but his brows furrow at certain times. Realising something, I carry the medical kit and walk towards him.

MC: Gavin, did you get hurt?

Gavin: I'm fine. Go help the others.

MC: In that case, pull open your clothes and let me have a look.

Gavin: ...

MC: Many people who need assistance are waiting for you. If you’re really injured, I could help to heal your wound much more quickly.

After giving me a deep look, he finally sits down, pulling open his clothes.

Underneath his clothes, aside from wounds oozing with blood, I can also see various scars.

MC: Some wounds wouldn’t leave scars if tended to properly.

Gavin: I don’t have the time to tend to every single wound.

He speaks casually, as though these scars are unrelated to him.

Seeing him like this, the guilt deep in my heart seems to tear me apart indistinctly.

Perhaps these mottled wounds have given hope and direction to countless people.

With no idea how to face such emotions, I simply tend to his wounds carefully.

MC: You’ve worked hard.

Gavin: It isn’t hard work. Life is meant to be difficult.

His voice is calm. I can sense that his somewhat scrutinising gaze is focused on me.

But I don’t have the courage to lift my head.

Eventually, the people in the campground start to get used to me tending to their wounds, including Gavin.

We’re much more familiar with each other as compared to a few days ago. Occasionally, we’d even engage in conversation.

MC: ...don’t you have a magic carpet or something? Why are your injuries so serious this time?

Gavin: There was a trap.

MC: They obviously did bad things, but not only did they not feel guilty, but also schemed against you?

Gavin: My life is worth a lot of money to many people.

Gavin speaks lightly, and a disdainful smile appears on his lips.

Gavin: It doesn’t matter. They won’t succeed.

I purse my lips, subconsciously exerting less force.

MC: Please be more careful next time, and don’t add on to my workload.

Being directly glared at by me, Gavin feels a little uneasy, his eyes subconsciously averting to the side.

Gavin: ...I’ll do my best.

Over the next few days, he truly doesn’t get injured again. But because of this, I have fewer opportunities to meet him.

For some inexplicable reason, I start finding all sorts of reasons to meet Gavin -

Making sweet snacks, handing over supplies... I use everything that can create a connection between us.

Maybe it’s just a misperception, but I can always capture a subtle emotion in his eyes.

Those nice-looking eyes affect my heart involuntarily.

Until one day, when he returns and walks past me, straight towards his room. I hurriedly follow behind him, burrowing sideways through the doors that are about to close.

MC: Why did you start avoiding me once you returned? Did you get hurt!

Gavin: ...no.

Without a word, I hurriedly sweep my eyes over Gavin. When I catch sight of the traces of blood on his waist, I lift my head to glare at him.

Gavin: ...

Under my gaze, he averts his eyes a little awkwardly.

Gavin: [totally not lying] Cough. Oh, turns out I got injured. I just realised. I’ll have to trouble you to tend to it.

Before I even open my mouth, he hurriedly stifles the words I’m about to say.

I release a sigh, reaching out to open the medical kit. I suddenly think of something.

MC: I heard that a child hit you with a stone yesterday?

Gavin: It’s just a trivial matter.

MC: That’s not what I’m referring to... you probably don’t feel good, do you. You’re obviously helping them, but you’re treated as a bad person.

Gavin: It’s very normal for me to be treated as a bad person.

MC: But you aren’t one!

After blurting this out, I lower my eyes unnaturally.

I suddenly feel warm breaths. Lifting my head, my vision is overtaken by him.

Gavin: Then what am I?

MC: I... just think that you’ve done so many good things, and shouldn’t be misunderstood.

[Note] If I were the writer, I'd make MC say: “You’re my boyfriend from another universe where you’re a sexy special agent from STF and we go through lots of angst together like the time you left me alone in the Ferris wheel during that one date.” And then I’d get fired.

A peculiar emotion flashes in his eyes. He doesn’t continue, and he stares out the window.

Gavin: Pack up your things later. You’re heading out tonight.

Realising that he’s referring to checking out the flower garden, I’m stunned for a moment.

It seems that these relaxed and comfortable days have made me forget my goal from the beginning.

When I return to the central area of the campground, I discover that Gavin is standing there.

MC: Didn't you say that you’d be sending someone to the flower garden with me?

Gavin: I changed my mind.

A flying carpet hovers in front of me, leaving me dumbfounded on the spot.

Gavin: Scared?

MC: I-it’s fine. It’s just that I’ve never seen a magic carpet, and I don't know...

Before I finish speaking, my feet are off the ground as Gavin takes me into his arms.

It’s as though the scorching heat of his fingertips are able to melt me. Only the sounds of the wind and my heartbeat remain in the entire world.

Gavin: There’s no need to overthink. Just be careful not to fall off.

Gavin leaps up, sitting steadily on the carpet.

With my face red, I prepare to shift away from him. The carpet soars towards the sky, and the frightening sense of weightlessness makes me involuntarily grab onto his waist.

MC: Hang on! Could you let me sit properly before flying!

What I get in response is a soft chuckle, carrying with it some mischievousness.

Gavin: If you don’t want to fall off, hold tight.

After the wind rustles at my ear for a long time, we finally descend at the destination. Without even taking a few steps, I suddenly hear the sound of disciplined footsteps in the vicinity.

At the same time when I turn to Gavin in a panic, he pulls me behind a stone pillar nearby.

The stone pillar isn’t large, and we’re forced to stick together.

Because we’re pressed so closely together, his breath is akin to a gentle feather, brushing my face.

The itch causes me to tremble involuntarily. Gavin hurriedly reaches out to wrap me in his arms.

Gavin: Don’t move.

A soft command drifts to my ear, and I can only nod stiffly.

When the nearby footsteps disappear, I release a breath and prepare to leave. However, he turns around, pressing me against the stone pillar.

Gavin: Are you deliberately trying to get discovered?

MC: Of course... not! It’s because what you did was very ticklish!

I retort softly. In order to prove my point, I stick close to him, vigorously inhaling and exhaling through my nose.

MC: You find it ticklish too, don’t you!

In an instant, our breaths seem to intertwine, and an inexplicable heat secretly climbs up the back of my ears.

Gavin averts his eyes unnaturally, and he releases the hands propped on the wall.

Gavin: Let’s go. There isn’t much time left.

Beneath the clear and tender moonlight, the gentle night breeze and his reddened ears are especially obvious.

Fortunately, the second half goes smoothly. We walk around the flower garden meticulously before returning to the campground.

The moment my feet stand steadily on the ground, I use the excuse of drawing the map to run swiftly back into my room.

Staring at the blank sheet of paper, the pen in my hand doesn’t descend for a very long time.

...am I really going to continue with this?

[Note] Imagine if Gavin actually just wanted to go on a date with MC but didn’t know how to broach the topic because he’s Awkward™ so he decided to take her on a romantic stroll by “chEcKinG out tHE FlOwEr GarDEn”

Ever since returning from the flower garden, I especially cherish the few days I have left of this peaceful life.

While chatting with the men, I unintentionally learnt that all of them used to be bodyguards in the palace. And Gavin was their leader.

As for why they became bandits... looking at their solemn expressions, I didn’t continue probing.

I decide to focus all my energy on the map, treating it as a small “atonement”.

But my progress is even slower than imagined, and I only manage to complete it the day before the operation.

Stepping outside with the map, I see a familiar figure on the roof.

Struck with an idea, I shift a ladder over and prepare to climb up. However, because it isn’t tall enough, I end up pausing awkwardly mid-air.

MC: ...

Just when I’m wondering if I should call out to Gavin, the flying carpet suddenly appears near my feet.

After a moment of hesitation, I climb onto it in a sorry state. Gavin’s figure gradually appears in my vision.

Illuminated by the moonlight, he props himself up indolently, indistinct arches appearing at the corners of his lips.

MC: The map has been drawn.

Gavin: You’ve worked hard.

Just as I’m about to turn around to leave, the sky filled with stars enters my eyes. The stars sparkle in succession.

MC: ...could I stay here for a little longer?

Gavin: Here, nobody can meddle with you. You're free to do whatever you want.

Free... Hearing this term subconsciously makes me feel startled. In my peripheral vision, a shooting star soars past the sky.

MC: Ah, a star is falling!

I’m pleasantly surprised by the sight I’ve never seen before, but realise that Gavin’s brows are tightly knit.

MC: You don’t seem to want to see this sight?

He looks at me, his shining golden eyes turning a little dim.

MC: ...it’s fine if you don’t want to talk about it. After all, everyone has secrets they aren’t willing to share.

Gavin: Secrets?

MC: Mm. That’s why life is so tough. It’s because secrets are difficult to talk about, yet they refuse to release their grip.

Gavin: I don’t have any secrets.

Gavin says this bluntly, looking at me.

Gavin: That shooting star earlier has a lot of meaning behind it.

The lights and shadows in Gavin’s eyes stir, leaving me unable to identify the emotions within them.

After a moment of silence, his voice drifts to my ear again.

Gavin: An elder once told me that no matter what one does, the stars are able to see it. But if a shooting star were to appear in the sky, it meant that it faded away because it saw too much evil.

Even though his tone doesn’t change much, I can vaguely sense something.

Gavin: Which is why I changed from leader of the bodyguards to a bandit.

I’m stunned for a moment. Gavin turns his head, looking at me.

Gavin: What? You thought I’d hide it?

MC: I...

Gavin: This isn’t a secret. The people here have never avoided the past.

MC: Why?

Gavin: There isn't a special reason. I once thought that as a leader, I’d have more power to uphold justice. Afterwards, a choice to sacrifice a few hundred lives to save a nobleman appeared before me.

MC: Which side did you pick?

Gavin: No matter the side, I wanted to save them all.

He stares afar off, a scorching colour flashing in his eyes. The wind seems to respond to him, causing leaves to rustle.

Gavin: I won't let a single life vanish in front of me. But many people threatened me using my capacity as a leader. Which is why I no longer wanted that title. I just want to be Gavin, and do the things I genuinely want to do.

In the night breeze, the corners of his lips turn upwards. Pride and resoluteness are transparent in his eyes.

My heart quivers. Fragments of the past few days involuntarily surface before my eyes -

How he returned triumphantly with loot, along with wounds of varying sizes.

How he often places somewhat simple and crude “thank you gifts” in front of the gate of the campground.

At first, I thought these rumours of Gavin were just false compliments. But after seeing them for myself, I am fully convinced -

Gavin is worthy of all the praise.

Thinking about this, my heart seems to be tugged roughly by something.

MC: If only I had met you earlier. That way, I wouldn’t just be the young girl who was blessed by God, and...

I suddenly pause, my honest thoughts stuck in my throat.

Gavin: Wouldn’t what?

Those amber eyes watch me quietly, as though waiting for what’s weighing on my mind to pour out in torrents.

MC: You’ll be heading out tomorrow, so rest early. If possible, I hope the stars can see everything I do, and that they wouldn't fall.

I control the stinging sensation in my eyes, showing my sincerest smile.

He seems to be stirred. The brilliant starlight reflects in his eyes, and my figure seems to become clearer.

But my vision gradually turns blurry, as though something is about to fall.

A faint light appears from afar. Holding the letter that I spent a night writing, I walk to Gavin’s door.

MC: Sorry. I think some words can’t be said in person. If there’s another chance, perhaps we could... get to know each other afresh.

Watching as the letter disappears at the other end, I feel a weight being lifted off me as I walk out of the gate.

Tonight is the king’s coronation ceremony.

There aren’t any celebratory gifts from the neighbouring countries. There aren’t any flatteries from imperial concubines or ministers. There are only soldiers hiding in the flowering shrubs...

And me, who is pressed onto the floor.

King: Did you think that I didn’t plant other spies aside from you?

The king eats grapes indolently, strong distaste flashing in his eyes.

MC: ...

King: As my slave for so many years, you should know the consequences of betrayal.

I couldn’t care less about the king’s threats. All that’s in my heart is worry.

Worry that Gavin didn’t see my letter. Worry that he’d follow the plan and come to the flower garden, and into the king’s ambush.

Just a while ago, I admitted everything in the letter -

According to my understanding of the king, he would definitely deploy forces in the flower garden to guarantee his safety during the ceremony.

It also explains why the palace is akin to an empty city, and can be easily infiltrated.

A sizeable amount of wealth fleeced from the common folk is in the treasury. If they could be returned to their original owners, it should lighten much of their burden.

This is the only thing I can do as compensation.

With this thought in mind, I look up at the brilliant sky-filled sky. My mind doesn’t hold back, and specks of time spent together with Gavin courses through it.

I take a deep breath, doing my best to remember this starry sky forever, leaving behind no regrets.

All of a sudden, a cold wind rolls up beside me. At the edge of my vision, a figure appears along with the wind.

The faraway figure gradually becomes clearer. Gavin is standing on the flying carpet, his expression so gloomy that it’s terrifying.

MC: Gavin, what are you doing here?! Leave quickly, there’s an ambush here!

Right after I finish speaking, arrows fly towards Gavin in succession, but they’re all rolled together by the gale in an instant.

Gavin looks down, his eyes filled with a fury which has reached its limits.

Gavin: Did you think about the consequences of touching one of my people?

King: Men, take him down!

Realising that arrows are ineffective, the bodyguards brandish long swords, closing in on me.

A gentle wind protects me. At the same time, a familiar voice drifts from behind.

Gavin: Hold tight.

He kicks away the person who was restraining me, then carries me on his shoulder.

I subconsciously struggle, but realise that I’m gripped tightly by him, as though he’s telling me -

That he’s angry.

Twisting my head to peer at his expression, I can only see the distinct outline of the side of his face from my periphery.

After the flying carpet leaves the ground, a fierce wind suddenly springs out of the flower garden.

In an instant, the magnificent flower garden turns into a mess. The king dangles upside down from a sculpture, and looks to be in a huge predicament.

With a cold “hmph”, Gavin soars faraway, the flower garden behind him turning smaller and smaller.

MC: Gavin, could you put me down... I’m already safe.

He ignores me, and the rustling wind is the only thing left in the surroundings.

MC: Sorry... I lied to you.

Gavin: I already knew from the start.

He continues staring out, responding coldly.

MC: In that case, why did you still come here?! I already told you in the letter not to...

Gavin: Because I want to bring you back.

MC: Why...?

Gavin: Since you joined us, you can’t leave that easily.

I release a resigned sigh, muttering softly.

MC: You clearly said that I could leave whenever I wanted to.

Gavin: You believe a bandit’s promise?

MC: You...!

Not knowing what to say, a soft chuckle drifts from behind me.

He exerts slight pressure, as though verifying something. Then, he sets me down, drawing me into his arms.

MC: I even thought you’d keep carrying me on your shoulder and not let go.

Gavin: I actually wouldn’t mind. But I still prefer this.

While saying this, he tightens both arms around my waist.

A sense of security instantly charges into my heart, but it also accidentally tears open the guilt that I've buried in the depths of my heart...

MC: Gavin, you had your suspicions about me from very early on, didn’t you.

Gavin: I had my suspicions at the start. But afterwards, I realised it was unnecessary. Because I knew that you wouldn’t harm me.

His gaze is brilliant as he looks at me, mixed with an unquestionable emotion.

MC: [blushing] Why do you keep looking at me like that?

Gavin: I can’t do that?

MC: [blushing] Of course you can’t. You can’t get used to being a bandit and do whatever you want...

I retort indignantly, my face red as I avert my eyes.

Suddenly, a scorching hand covers my face, turning my face back forcefully.

Gavin: You’re right. I’m used to being a bandit and doing whatever I want to. So, MC, let me take a good look at you.

He carefully sweeps his eyes over me. As I gradually come to my senses, I realise that he’s checking to see if I’m injured.

MC: Gavin, I’m not hurt.

Seeing the concern in his eyes, my heart feels a stinging sensation. No one has ever cared about me like this before.

Even though he knew that I didn’t have good intentions from the beginning, he didn’t blame me at all.

The familiar campground once again enters my vision. From afar, I see that everyone’s tidying up boxes filled with treasures.

MC: Did they go to the palace?

Gavin: Mm. I had to bring you back, so I let them go there by themselves. After sorting out the inventory, they will return the items to their original owners.

MC: In that case... could we head to the roof for a while? Today’s also the day my blessings are manifested. Whether it’s real or not, it’d be revealed very soon.

In a moment, we land on the roof. My heart uncontrollably turns anxious.

Gavin: The most valuable riches in the world?

Gavin stands beside me quietly, stretching out his hand.

The full moon hangs overhead, and the night breeze blows gently.

In an instant, the pearls and jewels in the boxes on the ground suddenly fill the night sky, glistening underneath the moonlight.

Countless silver coins and jewels soak in the moonlight, setting a contrast to the flickering stars, as though they are newborn stars.

Gavin: Are these your blessings?

Gavin turns around to face me. All the light in the world seem to be stored in those amber eyes.

Gavin: If you’re wondering about the meaning behind these blessings, let me shoulder it with you. Your fate will not be directed by anyone. MC, you can just be MC. I don’t care if you’ve been blessed by God. What I want is you.

The starry sky casts a faint halo over Gavin, becoming the most dazzling colour in my eyes.

My world seems to be shining into a ray of light, and the interlaced paths of what lies ahead in the future turn clear and bright.

All of a sudden, I realise something with certainty -

This is just the beginning. He will bring me along to be acquainted anew with this beautiful world.

A gentle gust breezes past, and the lower hem of Gavin’s clothes flutters.

His lips move slightly, and his voice burrows into my ears along with the wind.

Gavin: All of the blessings for you - I’ll fulfil them myself.

🍷 MOMENTS 🍷

Gavin’s Post: Aside from two plane tickets, I also received a guidebook on surviving in the open country.

MC: Because most of this trip will be in the open country, we have to do our homework in advance!

Gavin: When it comes to safety, there’s nothing to worry about with me around.

Gavin’s Post: Aside from two plane tickets, I also received a guidebook on surviving outdoors.

MC: Are you surprised? The first phase of the trip is starting!

Gavin: Great. In that case, leave the rest of the arrangements to me.

Gavin’s Post: Aside from two plane tickets, I also received a guidebook on surviving outdoors.

MC: I felt that you’ve been working really hard lately, so I wanted to take you to a faraway place to relax~

Gavin: Actually, it’s enough that you’re around.

🍷 Phone calls: First l Second

🍷 More translated dates: here

🍷 Support the cafe by dropping by the tip jar!

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc gavin #almost couldn't finish this because I kept getting nosebleeds whenever gavin's sprite appeared on the screen #the way to a man's heart is by treating his wounds #the way to a woman's heart is by being gavin

159 notes · View notes