#or they were on a long trip with multiple hours to just read uninterrupted

[luffles424]

Sunrise

☼ Pairing: Seokjin x reader

☼ Genre: angst, fluff, smut, angst with a happy end, post breakup au, actor!seokjin, fashion designer!reader, exes to lovers

☼ Count: 9.5K

☼ Warnings: 18+, accusations of cheating, poor communication, some arguments (the relationship at the end can be seen as turning toxic as communication breaks down, so be aware if you think that may now work for you or just need to be prepared), heartbreak, non-explicit description of panic attack, moments of emotional shut down

Smut warnings: teasing, soft sex, nipple play, body worship, oral (f recieving), multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (stay safe pls!), dirty talk, exhibitionism, bratty reader, rough sex, manhandling, bruising

☼ Summary: It’s been well over 10 years since you and Seokjin broke up. You’ve been doing fine. Until one night a dream rocks you to the core and you find yourself in a place from the past. Have you really moved on?

Has he?

☼  Newly added epilogue: Moonlight

☼ a/n: This is told both in the present and past, the flashbacks are in italics! The flashbacks also aren’t in order, but I believe they’re pretty easy to follow when they would fall chronologically.

Inspired by the 2000s emo playlist I listened to as work (especially Jamie All Over by Mayday Parade) Sorry if the tags seem a little scary, I’d rather overtag than have someone get blindsided while reading. But I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! My ask box is always open ~ 💙💙💙💙

The cool breeze washes over you, bathing you in the salty ocean air. It seems you found the perfect time to come out here. The light jacket you wore more than enough to keep you warm on such an unexpected trip. The sky is slowly being painted in pinks and purples and oranges as the sun slowly starts to sink into the horizon, small wisps of fluffy, white clouds occasionally obscuring the sunlight. You’ve always loved seeing the sunset out here. The colors reflecting off the ocean and leaving everchanging patterns before you. You’ve based plenty of designs on sunsets. 

The dress you wore to your first fashion week is still your favorite. The penultimate meeting of sunset and night sky. The outside was ombre layers of soft chiffon, shades of oranges and pinks and small bands of light purples. It pooled around your feet, you liked to think it made it seem like you had risen from the waters of a sunset reflection. The halter bodice wrapped around your neck in a shimmery, golden band. Hanging from the choker were thin golden chains, draped and connected to a golden belt at your waist. 

For all appearances, it appeared like just a sunset colored dress. But when you walked, or pulled the fabric apart at the slit in the front, it revealed a glittering deep purple fabric, speckled like a swirling galaxy. It had been the ultimate combination of the theme of yours and Hoseok’s collection, sun and moon. The dress still hangs in your closet, one of the few extravagant pieces you’ve held on too. You want to wear it again, you just have to find an occasion to do so. The dress deserves it. 

The scene before you specifically was what inspired it. Maybe not this spot specifically. There were a lot of memories tied to this spot that you tried not to think about typically. But you’ve always loved visiting the beach. Or lakes. Anywhere you could go and watch the sun sink into the water. Watch an uninterrupted sky blend colorfully with the water.

You can’t believe you’re back here though. It’s been easily more than 10 years since the last time you were at this beach, which is a drastic change from back then from when you came here all the time. Taking a seat on the bench beside you, you smile, a little sadly, as your fingers trace over the heart carved into the wood, weathered from years in the elements and use. But the letters are still clear enough and you skip over your initials, letting your fingertips trace the ‘ksj’ as you think on when they were put there. 

 The smile on his face is bright, as bright as the glint of sunlight off the small pocket knife in his hand. 

Your combined giggles fill the fresh spring air, the beach fairly deserted since you skipped your last two periods of school to come here. You hadn’t put up much of a fight when he made the suggestion during lunch. Your grades are good enough and it’s the last weeks of high school, you can miss a few class periods to have some fun, to spend some time together before university. Just in case you don’t get into the same one.

The scratch of the blade against the wood is softer than you expect, a gentle scratch, scratch, scratch as he meticulously and carefully carves your names into the wood. His tongue pokes out from between his lips and you fight the urge to coo at how cute he is. Doubling down on keeping quiet when you know doing so would also result in him being overly macho to prove he wasn’t cute. Not because he doesn’t believe he’s cute or anything, but he knows how much the faux display makes you laugh. You don’t want to interrupt his work when this seems so important to him.  

Finally he looks up from his work, proudly gesturing to the carving on the bench. 

“That’s so cheesy.”

With an exaggerated pout, he gives you the saddest eyes he can muster. “I worked so hard on this for you. As a testament to our love!”

You lean forward, pressing a kiss to his jutted lower lip. “Well, I didn’t know it was so serious. My apologies.”

 A few more kisses and he’d promptly forgiven you and the two of you had spent the rest of the afternoon at the beach, taking blurry pictures on your flip phones. You’re positive that a printed version of one of those photos still lives in a box somewhere, where you didn’t have the heart to throw it away and so it’s stayed in a box of memories that moves with you but you never really look through. 

 You’re so tired when you finally get home. It doesn’t even feel like home anymore. You’ve spent more time either in the studio or with Jimin or Hoseok or at work than you have here. And you know from the times that you are here that Seokjin is gone just as often as you. It doesn’t even feel like you’re in a relationship anymore. It hurts to think about that. 

So you’d thought summer would be the perfect time for the two of you to rekindle your relationship. Fix whatever problems you were having, free from the stress of finals. But with senior year quickly approaching, everything seems to have just gotten worse. You can never seem to catch Seokjin to start the process of fixing anything. 

To your surprise, when you open the door you find Seokjin sitting on the bed, face pinched as he stares at something on his phone. Maybe this will finally be the opportunity to talk and start fixing things. You miss him, body cold and numb the nights you fall asleep here alone, always waiting and waking up disappointed. 

Before you can say anything, his head lifts and the cold glare he sends you stops you in your tracks. What could possibly have happened to make him give you that look? You know the two of you have been having some problems, but nothing that would warrant that look.

“Where the hell were you?” His tone is as icy as his eyes. 

You frown, gesturing vaguely towards the fridge. “Work. I put my schedule up so you knew.” He didn’t have the same courtesy. You never knew when he was working. Or what else he was doing when he was out. You had put yours up in hopes that he would do the same and maybe you would be able to find time to be together. Though you’re not sure he even bothered to go near the fridge. The few times you’ve made dinner for him and left the leftovers in the fridge with a note went untouched. 

He sneers and holds his phone out towards you. You have to step closer to get a good look at the image he has pulled up. It’s from just a few hours ago. You and Jimin sat at one of the cafe tables and laughing. It had been your break and Jimin came in to keep you company. Had Seokjin come by the cafe? Why hadn’t he come in? If he’d been there when this was taken, you were on break, you could’ve spent it together. 

“Then what’s this? Certainly doesn’t look like work to me.”

Your mind blanks. Is he seriously accusing you of lying right now? Indignation rises, acid burning in your throat. “What are you saying? If you were there why didn’t you come in? I would have loved to see you.”

“I wasn’t there. A friend sent this. And I’m saying that you’re never around. And I keep getting people telling me they see you out with him all the time. I haven’t seen you in weeks. But it seems like he sees you every day.”

He can’t seriously be accusing you of cheating right now. This seriously can’t be happening right now. You don’t know whether to laugh or cry at the accusation. It hurts that he’d honestly think you’d do that. Then the ugly thoughts come. What’s that saying, those who are most guilty are the quickest to throw blame at others?

“First of all,” you grit out, trying your best to keep your tone even. You can feel the rage churning in your belly. “I was on break when that was taken. Jimin came to visit because he knew someone wasn’t going to.” Seokjin’s mouth opens to speak but you continue, voice raising. He is not going to get to cut you off now. “It’s awfully fucking rich for you to accuse me when you have no evidence. You’re never even around. You know what they say, it’s never the one being blamed but the one doing the blaming.”

He scoffs and stands. In his anger, he seems to tower over you. But you’re too angry and indignant yourself for it to feel intimidating. You stare him down. 

“You’re really going to accuse me now?”

“It’s the same thing you’re doing! I was hoping to fucking talk when I saw you were home. I was so happy to see you here. We haven’t been home together in so long. I-”

“We haven’t been home together because you’re always out with Jimin.” 

“No I haven’t been fucking home because you’re never home and it fucking hurts to be in this shitty apartment without the person who’s supposed to be here with me. Do you know how fucking lonely it is waiting around here for a person who never shows up?”

Turning away from you, he takes a few deep breaths. 

You deflate slightly. You could still fix this. “Seokjin-”

He shakes his head. “No, I don’t want to hear any more excuses.”

He moves towards the door and you panic. This isn’t how tonight was supposed to go. You wanted to fix things. To make them better. Everything has spiraled and you can’t let him slip through your fingers. You reach for his wrist.

“Seokjin, wait-”

He wretches his hand free and glances at you over his shoulder with so much contempt that you feel your heart in your throat. “No. I’m done.”

This can’t be it. This really can’t be it. He sees you about to speak again and turns and leaves before you can get a word out and it feels like the rug has been ripped out from beneath you. The silence deafening in his absence. 

You don’t know how long you stand there for. You feel completely numb. Like this is just a bad dream and you’ll wake up soon and Seokjin will be next to you and you’ll tell him about this and he’ll laugh and comfort you and tell you that would never happen. You expect tears, but they never come. Everything feels so surreal. 

The man you had planned to spend the rest of your life with just walked out on you after accusing you of cheating. 5 years and he really thought that was something you would do. Do you wait around? Hope he comes back for you both to talk with calmer minds. 

You settle for a text.

You: Can we talk once we’ve both calmed down?

It’s less than a second later and the response makes your heart sink. Blocked. 

He really blocked you already. He’s not even going to try? You sink onto the bed. What are you supposed to do now?

At some point, mechanically, you text Jimin, asking if he could come over and bring some boxes. Looking around, you’re at least grateful that your place was small because it means you don’t have that much to try to move. Jimin arrives, faster than you expected. Or maybe you’ve just become that disconnected from the passage of time. 

He drops the boxes and comes up to you, hands fretting over you like there’s some physical injury he can attend to. Unless he knows how to mend a broken heart, his fretting is useless. Instead you move on autopilot, taking the boxes Jimin brought and packing your meager possessions into them. Jimin stands by the kitchen, looking sad and lost, unable to help because you have yet to say a word. He knows what happened though. It’s not hard to figure out. You’re thankful that he doesn’t try to get you to talk. Just lets you move and do what you need. Waits for you to ask should you need help. 

You’re almost finished packing when you pull the shoebox from under the bed and you suddenly feel like you’ve been hit by a truck. Flipping the lid open reveals hundreds of photos. Of friends. Of family. Of trips. Of Seokjin. The top pictures pull your attention. Two copies of the same photo. A blurry snapshot of you two grinning on the beach. You both look so young and happy. You wish you could go back to that. Everything was so simple back then. 

He must have put his copy in with yours. Because why would they need to be kept in different places when the two of you would never be apart. You almost want to laugh. You mostly want to cry. You stand with the box, debate for all of two seconds before you set his copy down on the bed. He can decide what to do with his own copy. That’s not for you to decide. Not anymore. 

Tucking the shoebox into the last of the moving boxes, you cast one last look around the apartment. The holes where your things were hurt to see. The physical evidence that this part of your life is over. Carefully extracted from a life that had been so delicately intertwined. You wonder if the gaps will even bother Seokjin. If he’ll even bother staying here, if he’ll move onto something bigger and better. Without you. Swallowing, you turn to Jimin before those thoughts can spiral. Not here. Not yet. Once you’re somewhere else and alone. Then it can all come out.

“Ready?”

You give a small nod and Jimin helps take your things downstairs. He does most of the work while you wait on the sidewalk. He calls a taxi, loads your things into, gives the driver his address. 

As it pulls away from the curb, you can’t help but to watch the apartment shrink into the distance. Feeling like you left your heart behind. You wonder if you’ll ever get it back.

 Your phone dings with a notification, dragging you out of the sad memories. You give yourself a small shake. You hadn’t thought about that day in years, pushing it to the back of your mind. You had learned later on that some girls had told Seokjin lies about you to get the two of you to break up in a bid for his attention. It had backfired spectacularly because you found out through Hoseok after he overheard Seokjin yelling at the girl who asked him out less than a week after the break up. He never came to talk to you after the truth came out though. You never let yourself think too hard about why that might be. You’d already spent too many nights feeling numb and broken. You poured yourself into your work. Your friends. You had been content for your senior year. It didn’t go how you were expecting, but it was still good.

You smile at the device in your hand. It’s far more advanced than your old flip phones had been, even your college phone had been fairly low tech, the downsides of living on a budget. High school you would have killed for a camera this good back then. That blurry picture of you and Seokjin would’ve been much more clear if you’d had something like this back then. You swipe the notification away, just an email from your assistant about your schedule for tomorrow and what had been shifted around from today. But all that can wait until later, probably when you’re back home. The notification draws your attention to a text from Hoseok that you hadn’t seen though. He must have messaged while you were walking so you didn’t feel your phone go off. 

Hobihobi: Are you ok?

You smile at his concern. And honestly the fact that he even noticed you dipped out of the studio early. You had thought that he had been too busy on his own upcoming project to notice. It’s a pretty big deal for your label and he’s been working so hard to get this project. You’re just glad you have the perk of being boss to be able to dip when you need to. Although technically, you and Hoseok own your label, Daydream Designs, together. 

Texting him a quick reassurance, you pocket the device again, content to just enjoy the sunset out here alone. There’s a few people scattered around the beach. A few families beginning to pack up for the evening, a person running with their dog, a couple walking along the shoreline. 

You have such fond memories of this beach. For all the bad memories you have of the relationship, mostly from the end of it, at least the beach remains untainted.

 Nervously clutching the letter in your hand, your leg bounces as you wait for Seokjin to arrive. He’d texted you earlier that he’d gotten a letter from SNU. You’d rushed home to see you had a letter waiting as well. You were thankful that they had come on the same day. You can’t imagine how much more anxiety you’d have if you’d had to wait longer for one of your letters to arrive. 

You glance at the white envelope, the edges are beginning to wrinkle from your grip, but you can’t get your fingers to relax. Checking your phone again, you wonder where Seokjin is. He should be here soon. The beach is crowded today. The weather finally nice enough and the water clear and warm. It was a miracle that you’d managed to get your bench when you’d arrived. But someone had just been leaving when you’d gotten here and you’d quickly jogged over to take it before someone else could snatch it. It seemed like the perfect place to see what your future held.  

Seokjin appears suddenly, panting like he ran the whole way here. Which, given the sweat making his bangs stick to his forehead, is a good possibility. He still looks handsome, more so when he sends you a brilliant grin.

“You got our bench!”

Returning his smile, you send him a wink. “I had to fight an old lady for it.”

He presses a quick kiss to your lips as he sits down, brandishing his letter. “How do you want to do this?”

Chewing your lip, you think it over. “I don’t think I can open it.”

His eyes soften and he takes your hand. He can read you so well. “No matter what happens, we’ll always have each other.” He gives your hand a squeeze. “How about we open each other’s?”

Reluctantly, you nod. Would it really be better to see that he got in while still not knowing if you got in too? Swapping letters, you stare down at his name spelled out in ink. You know he got in. There’s no way he didn’t. Seokjin nudges you and you look up.

“Count of three?” You nod. “Okay… 3…”

“2…”

“1…”

Seokjin is a little faster in tearing open the envelope than you are but you keep your gaze firmly downcast, watching as your fingers tear open the paper with meticulous care. You skim his letter quickly. 

Congratulations.

He got in. Joy swells in you and you look up with a grin, momentarily forgetting your own letter. Your smile quickly falters though when you see the flat look on Seokjin’s face as he stares down at your letter and your heart sinks.

Tugging his hand to get his attention, you give him a sad smile. “Hey, it’s okay. You said-”

“You got in.”

You blink. His words swirling around your head but not fully registering. “What?”

He envelops you in a massive hug, laughing with joy. “You got in! Baby, you did it!”

You still feel a little dumbfounded, but you’re quickly filling with excitement. “You too! Jinnie, you got in too!”

He pulls back and presses a long kiss to your lips. His eyes look suspiciously wet, but you decide not to comment. You’re positive that your’s are probably a little wet too. “The next four years are going to be amazing.”

 He had been so optimistic back then. You could use some of that optimism now. 

You hadn’t originally planned on cutting out of work early, especially not to come here of all places. There were some designs that you needed to work on, a few ideas that you had that you wanted to get sketched up to show to Hoseok. But when you’d been walking through the common area during lunch, you’d overheard a couple of people gathered around a computer gushing about the Kim Seokjin wearing one of Hoseok’s designs. 

It’s definitely not the first time. Hoseok knew Seokjin in university when you knew him too, although you were always closer to him since you shared a lot of classes, and obviously a shared love of fashion. But the two were friendly and remained so afterward, but on a more acquaintanceship basis. The break up clearly divided some friendships, though you hated that it happened. You didn’t want anyone to feel like they had to stop being friends with either of you just because you two were no longer dating. 

You know it’s not the first time Hoseok has designed something for Seokjin. And normally, him wearing one of Hoseok’s designs wouldn’t bother you too much. Both because it’s good for Hoseok because Hoseok is a genius and deserves it, but because it’s also really good for your label in general in terms of good press. Though you know Hoseok sometimes slips your designs into things that get sent to him. You saw one of your jackets ended up at an award show. 

Idle chatter about Seokjin around the office isn’t that new. You suppose that’s one of the downsides to being in an industry that is very closely tied to idols and actors and actresses. It’s not an uncommon occurrence to hear them gossip about him, he’s one of the most popular drama actors currently and everyone loves to gush about how handsome and funny he is. They find it odd that you’ll talk about anyone with them except him. They leave it be much easier now, but in the beginning they still tried to include you. 

You’ve even dealt easily with the dating rumors. All the pretty actresses he’s supposedly dating. And why wouldn’t he? He’s gorgeous and talented and so, so kind. Any woman would be lucky to have him. You’ve been on the receiving end of his love. You know how easy it is to fall.

If your coworkers knew that you’d dated him in the past, they would think you were crazy to let him go. And maybe be a little jealous and probably pepper you with questions about him. You definitely are thankful they don’t know because the way some of them gossip about their own sex lives, they’d beg for details about a celebrity’s from first hand experience. 

 Excitement fills you as you sit in the airport. It’s finally summer. Your first year of college is behind you and you now get to spend two whole weeks with Seokjin in Jeju. Well Seokjin and his family. But they were kind enough to let the two of you have your own little place on the island. Well it was more of just the guest house to the main house they, along with Seokjin’s brother, would be staying at. 

This will likely be the only big summer trip you both take during college. Seokjin had originally planned to not go. More content to work all summer and save up money so the two of you could get an apartment off campus. His parents had offered to pay for a place, but Seokjin was adamant that the two of you wanted to do this for yourselves. 

You’d try to hide your disappointment about not going, but he knows you far too well and caved quickly to saying one trip wouldn’t hurt his independence. So now here you were, ready to fly out to Jeju. You haven’t been since you were little and you were excited that you got to go back and this time with Seokjin. 

The flight is quick and uneventful and Seokjin gets a taxi to take you to the beach house, his parents having arrived a few days prior. 

The main house is beautiful, but you’re more excited to see where you’ll be staying. The outside of the guest house looks like a miniature version of the main one. Inside, it’s spacious, all one room with an attached bathroom. The bed is separated from the living area by an ornate partition painted with a starry nightscape. The moon is painted in such gorgeous detail that you’re tempted to tell Seokjin you want to steal the partition when you leave. 

The living area is simple, a plush sofa and matching chair set facing a wall mounted TV. A small, well-stocked minibar is pressed against one wall. Around the partition and into the sleeping area is a large bed facing a set of french doors that open out onto a small deck that leads right down to the beach in two steps. 

Flopping onto the bed with a giddy giggle, you watch as Seokjin sets his bag down and gives you a fond smile. 

“Enjoying yourself?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

You squirm back slightly, coy smile stretching your lips. “I don’t know. The bed seems kind of empty.”

He chuckles, sitting on the bed and tugging you into his lap. “Better?”

Humming, you press a kiss to his lips. “Much.”

When you go to pull away, he follows, capturing your lips in another, deeper kiss. “We don’t… have… a lot of time…” he murmurs between kisses. 

You give a vague affirmative, only half listening to his words in favor of pressing him back into the mattress. His parents can wait, you have some important business first.

 The night air is cool, the french doors left open, gauzy curtains shifting in the gentle breeze. Shifting onto his side, Seokjin presses a gentle kiss to your shoulder, soft and unhurried. It’s only been a couple of days since you’ve been here. But it’s been utter bliss, especially after the exhaustion from finals. 

You nudge the sheet lower down your bodies and press closer to him. Tonight seems like the perfect time for something soft and unhurried. A perfect time to really connect again. No hurrying because of classes, or roommates, or meetings. No papers to worry about. 

Just you and Seokjin. In a plush bed with a cool, ocean breeze enveloping you. If you peek through the curtains, you can just make out the shape of the moon, the illumination making Seokjin glow before you. 

He’s already bared to you. Both of you showering off the ocean water from an evening dip and simply crawling into bed together afterwards. The TV is off, the only sounds filling the room is the rustle of the sheets as you move and the lapping of the waves on the shore. You dare not speak and break the peaceful atmosphere and Seokjin seems to be on the same wavelength. 

Neither of you need to speak to know how to move around each other here. He cups your face, such a gentle caress, like you’re the most fragile and beautiful thing he’s ever held. It makes you feel cherished. He leans closer and time seems to slow down with the press of his plush lips to yours. He takes his time kissing you, so slowly like you have the rest of eternity for just this moment. 

Pushing you onto your back, Seokjin cages you in, enveloping you in the safe blanket of his embrace. His scent is overwhelming like this, you could drown in it. His hips press into yours, cock not fully hard yet, but that doesn’t matter. This is about taking your time with each other. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, hands sliding from his neck up into his hair.

The strands are a little dried out, a combination of the salty ocean water and the fresh bleaching it got. His parents hated it at first, but he defended it as just college experimentation. It’s supposed to be a time of discovery and why not try different hair colors. He’s unfairly attractive with the bleach blonde, just as handsome as his natural brunette. You know he plans to dye it another color. But he’s yet to tell you what it’ll be. 

You give his hair a light tug, relishing the sigh he releases against your lips. 

“Tell me what you want.”

“Just you.”

“You always have me.”

Seokjin nudges your thighs apart as he kisses across your jaw and down your neck. Trailing across your collarbones, he leaves a line nips down to your sternum. His hands slide up your sides till they meet your breasts, fingers cupping the soft flesh as he peppers kisses across the expanse of your chest. He traces one nipple with his tongue, teasing the bud to stiffness with each swipe. He moves on to the other one, changing it up and using his teeth this time. The air fills with your soft moans, blending with the waves outside. 

Moving lower, Seokjin kisses your belly, taking his time to touch every little mark across your skin. Pleasure simmers in your belly, every nerve burns like a live wire. Over all that, you feel loved. Absolutely worshiped as Seokjin presses a kiss to your mound with such reverence that you think he might convert right here and now. 

Seokjin eats you out just as slowly and thoroughly as he kissed you. He savors you with each swipe of his tongue, every suck, every twist of his fingers. Seokjin plays your pleasure like a fine-tuned instrument, drawing you ever so slowly to the edge. Your fingers thread through his hair once more, not to be demanding, but for the sake of feeling grounded. His tongue laps at you like you’re a ten course meal and he wants to savor every single morsel. When you chance a glance down at him, his eyes are closed, handsome face, what you can see of it at least, smoothed out in utter bliss. 

When you finally cum, it feels like sinking into pure euphoria. Seokjin drags it out for so long and so gently that you cum a second time. Though you’re so lost in sensation that maybe it’s still the first orgasm.

Pushing himself to his knees, his face glistens with your slick and you feel bereft with the distance suddenly between you. You reach out for him and he falls right into you, lips crashing against yours as his cock presses against your pussy. But you need more than that and you squirm, drawing a chuckle from deep in his chest. 

“Impatient…” he murmurs.

But despite his teasing, he shifts until the tip of his cock catches your hole and he slides in with languid push. You sigh his name and he answers with a nod, lips brushing your neck as he pulls back and starts a slow, almost lazy, rhythm. You cling to him, nearly delirious with pleasure. 

Nudging Seokjin, you pull him in for a kiss of your own. “I love you.”

He groans into your mouth. “Fuck… I love you too. So much.”

You lose track of time, your pace unhurried. Seokjin cums at some point and the two of you lay facing each other and exchanging soft kisses until you drift off to sleep. 

 You whine as Seokjin slips his cock into you. He’s been teasing you all day on the beach. At one point while you were in the water with him, his fingers slipped beneath your suit to tease along your pussy. You’d nearly screamed at the sudden sensation, but Seokjin had merely laughed and floated out of your reach, sending you a wink as he licked his finger. The second you returned to your room from dinner he was on you. This is so different from the other night. Somewhere in between the rushed couplings in the dorms and the slow, soft sex from then. It feels just as good, a little rough, fun, light. Perfect.

Seokjin grins cockily above you. “I barely did anything and you’re so wet for me, baby.”

Huffing, you try to kick at him, but he easily pins your leg down. He tuts and delivers a thrust that jostles you up the bed and draws a gasp from you. He looks entirely too pleased with himself. 

Before you can formulate any other sort of retaliation, the sound of voices catches your attention. Glancing to the side shows that neither of you shut the french doors. The voices don’t sound close, but they are near enough for you to hear. It’s not too strange, the beach is there for anyone. But it’s the first night that anyone has been out there, at least close enough for you to be able to hear from your bed. Music soon follows the voices. A party. 

Unbidden, the thought of someone breaking away from the party, coming down the beach this way and passing by the open doors has you clenching around Seokjin. He gasps at the sudden tightness, blinking down at where you’re connected. Licking his lips, he follows your gaze and a moment later, you see realization cross his features. 

His resulting grin is downright dangerous. “What’s got you going, baby? Hm?”

Swallowing, you turn back to him, blocking out the voices. You will not give him the satisfaction. “Nothing.”

Fingers digging into your hips, Seokjin glances towards the doors again. He gives a harsh thrust that pulls a startle moan from you. “Nothing, huh? I don’t think that’s true.” He turns back to you and there’s a dark look in his eyes. “I think that you want someone to walk by and see us. That the idea of being caught is exciting.”

You scoff, deliberately turning your face away from the doors. “I’m actually bored and thinking about what we’re doing tomorrow.”

Seokjin blinks at you for a moment before chuckling darkly. “Is that right?” You nod. “Oh, we’ll see about that.”

It sounds like a threat and a challenge. And you’re never one to back down from a challenge. “Well in the morning, we’re meeting your parents for brunch…” 

Seokjin’s tongue presses against his cheek as he slams his cock into you. It would force you up the bed if not for his bruising grip on your hips keeping you firmly pinned in place, forced to take the full brunt of his cock spliting you open. 

But you’re just as stubborn as him. “Then we’re going… to the spa… oh my g-god… you… you made… p-plans for lunch…” 

Every few words you stutter out are punctuated by another harsh thrust. Your legs are pushed towards your chest and his next thrust has his cock rubbing along your g-spot and for a second, your mind blanks on what’s happening, pleasure so sudden and searing that you forget everything but the full feel of Seokjin’s cock inside you. He starts to grin then, victoriously, and that pulls you out of it just enough to continue, gritting your teeth as he continues to fuck you.

“Said you had… a surprise… then we were going to… oh, fuck… gonna go to t-town… buy some… gifts… Seokjin, please…”

He grins. “Gonna admit what you were thinking about?”

One hand leaves your legs, thumb brushing your clit and your resolve crumbles with your rising desire to cum. 

“Fuck… yes! I want someone to walk by. See you fucking me, making me cum, making me feel good… Seokjin, please…” you whine out.

“Well, why didn’t you just say so?”

His rough thrusts pick up again. This time accompanied by the rhythmic movements on his fingers on your clit. Your orgasm builds quickly and leaves you breathless as Seokjin forces you over the edge. You cry out, heedless of the volume of your voice. If anything, the thought of someone hearing how Seokjin makes you feel makes you shudder with pleasure.

Seokjin groans, hands dropping to the bed as he chases his own orgasm, smothering his moan of your name against your shoulder. 

When he’s caught his breath, he raises his head, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “So… exhibitionism, huh?”

 The stories you had are probably worth a lot. Which is why you keep them to yourself. No one but you and Seokjin need to know those details. Especially not some of the more nosy people you work with. Hoseok thankfully played along with only knowing him on a professional level and not that you all went to university together. 

It’s typically pretty easy to just ignore the chatter when it comes up about him. But a couple days ago, you had a dream about him. One that after you woke up, you couldn’t recall almost anything about it. Except his face and the heavy feeling in your heart. His smile was burned into your mind and has left you feeling off since then. The mention of him today combined with the weird feeling brought back a whole slew of memories and things you had thought you’d long since moved past. To the point that you made the decision to leave work to work early because you were so confused. Why you were suddenly feeling like this about someone who you thought you’ve been over for more than 10 years. 

You never thought you’d be here back in university. Together with Seokjin. You both had thought you’d be together forever, whispered together about getting married, about the future. The things you’d do and the places you’d go to. 

 The arm around your bare waist tightens, a firm chest pressing into your back. 

“What’re you thinking about, baby?” Seokjin murmurs into the skin of your shoulder.

You chew your lip nervously before shifting in his grip so that you’re now facing each other. You’ve been thinking about a lot of things as freshman year draws to a close. All of them lead back to Seokjin.

The afternoon sunlight peeks in through the curtains, casting golden light across him and the dormroom. It’s an odd time to be in bed together, but it’s one of the only moments that you both have free and there’s no dormmates around to bother or have to kick out. Though you know Yoongi, Seokjin’s roommate and faux reluctant friend, would give you both the space if you asked. You don’t want to be the person that kicks him out constantly, so for now, you both are content to steal some free moments during the day when Yoongi has classes. Maybe next year you can think about getting a little place off campus together. A place both for you guys and maybe for your friends to visit and hang out at. 

You think Seokjin looks the most beautiful under the afternoon light regardless. Seokjin pecks your nose, drawing your attention back to him and his question that remains unanswered. You feel a little nervous bringing up what you were thinking about. But the two of you have been together for almost 3 years. You should be able to bring it up to him.

Swallowing your slight nerves, you finally speak. “Was just… thinking about the future…”

His answering smile is warm and gentle and you feel like the world could crumble around you and you would be safe here in his arms. “I hope I’m there.” 

Giggling, you press a kiss to his lips. “Of course. I can’t imagine a future without such a handsome man on my arm while I attend extravagant parties and get all the jealous stares to be dating someone so much younger than me.”

Gasping with as much drama as you expect from him, Seokjin falls onto his back, hands clutched over his chest. “I can’t believe this! The truth has finally come out! You’re only with me for my youthful looks!”

Fond smile growing, you settle your hand over his as he continues a dramatic monologue about the ultimate betrayal. You wish he would listen to you about changing his major. You know he’d love being an acting major much more than he currently is in his business major classes. A major he’s in only to appease his family. 

Finally tired of his dramatics, you lean up and press a kiss to his lips, effectively silencing him. “I love you,” you murmur against his lips. 

 You wonder when he changed his degree. Or if he ever did. You know plenty of people who go into acting without the degree and Seokjin certainly had the inherent talent to do it. It would be easy to verify if you just looked him up. Someone who’s so in the spotlight now would certainly have his degree information online. But you don’t want to do that. You wonder how invasive that must be. Although you and Hoseok are beginning to get that popular too, you wonder if those sorts of things will begin to happen to you. You can’t imagine you’d be very interesting to follow around. 

Truthfully, you don’t know what would be worse in regards to the fate of Seokjin’s degree. If he had done what you had told him all along and changed his major after you two broke up, or if he had decided to follow his dreams even if he didn’t have the degree for it. It’s undeniable that it hurts either way. The first time you’d seen him in a trailer had sent you spiraling in a way that you hadn’t since the breakup. 

 There’s a pounding at the door, but you can’t find it in yourself to get off the couch. The TV is still on the channel it had been on last night and you’re still sat in the same place as then. Honestly, you only know that it’s at least morning because there’s light streaming in through the windows and when you had seen the trailer it had definitely been evening. 

You had been watching some show, whatever you landed on first that seemed at least mildly entertaining, while eating dinner. A quick break from the sketches that are scattered across your coffee table. Sketches that could lead to your first big contract.  

But your peaceful and exciting night of work had been interrupted when you’d seen a preview for a new drama. A new drama with Kim Seokjin. It had been crushing to see. You had been telling him to do that for so long. To the point that it became one of the contributing factors in your seemingly inevitable breakup. 

It seems then that the problem was never with whether or not he would follow his dreams after graduation. It was just if you would be there with him. You cried when you saw it, a vice of bitterness around your heart that while you don’t get to celebrate with him, you’re so happy that he’s doing what he loves. You’re fairly certain you stopped sometime around midnight, though the night was a little hazy as your thoughts circled around one thing. How he hadn’t wanted you there with him.

The banging at your door stops at some point, though you don’t know how long they kept it up for. And then your door is suddenly being shoved open, banging against the wall and there’s two sets of footsteps moving quickly into the apartment. You hear a muffled ‘fuck’ and then you’re being enveloped in a hug. 

It takes only a moment for you to realize who it is, the orange-y scent of Jimin’s favorite cologne washing over you. Your breath stutters then, it hurts to breathe so you bury your face in his chest and his arms tighten around you. He murmurs comforting words and someone else sits behind you, hand gently rubbing your back. 

Eventually, you calm down and you pull away to give Jimin a weak smile, one that you direct to Hoseok as well when you see him behind you. Jimin returns with a pained smile of his own. 

“You saw, huh?” You nod and Jimin sighs. “I had hoped that you wouldn’t see it last night. It’s what I was planning to tell you at dinner tonight. So you could be prepared for it. I’m so sorry I waited to tell you.”

You shake your head quickly. “No, you have nothing to apologize for.” You rub your neck. “I… I didn’t think I would react quite like this… It’s been 3 years. You worked so hard to help me out of that dark place-”

Jimin puts a hand over your mouth, cutting you off. “No, you worked hard to get yourself out of that dark place. I was just there to hold your hand. It was a tough breakup. It’s understandable if there’s occasionally things that bring that heartache back up.”

You nod slowly, not fully believing his assertion that he just held your hand post break up. You probably would’ve dropped out of university after the breakup if you hadn’t met Jimin. You look between him and Jimin. “H-how did you know to come?”

Hoseok gives a sheepish grin. “You didn’t show up to work and I got worried. I texted Jimin on my way here and he seemed to know exactly what had happened.”

“Now that we’re here. How about I go get all of us some junk food and you two find something trashy for us to binge?”

 After that, it got much easier to see him on your screen. Or on screens in the train stations. Or plastered on ads and billboards. 

It helped you actually, to finally, truly move on from him. A sort of immersion therapy to numb you to his face. You didn’t need him to be happy. You loved your budding design business with Hoseok, clubbing with Jimin, dating both casually and more seriously. It all got easier with time and you’re grateful for the friends that you have. Your friends have always been there for you, even back then. 

 Your first birthday after the breakup was rough. Seokjin always planned something elaborate and thoughtful. There would be none of that this year. You went to work in the morning, gave your coworkers a fake smile as they wished you a happy birthday with a cupcake in the breakroom before you opened the cafe. It was sweet of them to do, but the breakup was still far too recent for you to truly enjoy anything like this. 

Jimin had night classes so you would have the evening alone. You at least had your own room now instead of sleeping on Jimin’s couch in his old apartment. You had protested his plan to move to a two bedroom apartment for you both to share so you could have your own space. You knew on your meager wages you’d never be able to help with rent at such a large place. You and Seokjin had barely been able to afford your studio together.

But Jimin insisted. He had more than enough to cover rent and you could just save your money. Or buy groceries and cook. He hated cooking, could do it just fine but was too impatient for it. It seemed like incredibly inadequate compensation for him giving you a place to live, but he just smiled and said that’s what friends do for each other. You had cried and he teased you afterward and then made you buy him ice cream. But you agreed to moving and letting him help. 

And it was nice to have your own room. It was great to live with Jimin. He was the sweetest and seemed to always know exactly what you needed. Hoseok visited often too, though you don’t know if he was coming to see you or Jimin more some days, and the three of you worked hard to get through your last year of university. Together. 

But with Jimin in classes tonight, the apartment would be empty. You didn’t really feel like cooking either. So you’d probably just have some ramen. If you could even be bothered to eat to begin with. You freeze when you get to your floor, brows knit in confusion when you see a beautiful bouquet of red and yellow lilies, interspersed with sheep sorrels. The vase is a glossy deep blue, splashes of purples and pinks and speckles of white paint of soft starry night. 

You wonder who they’re for. They must have been left at the wrong door. You carefully look through the petals for a card, finding the glossy little square quickly. Tears gather in your eyes when you see the little cartoon cat head sketched into the blank area of the card. It’s a little cruder than you’re used to seeing, the ear slightly misshapen, the cheeks a little too chunky, the lines a little unsure. 

But it’s unmistakably Yoongi’s cat doodle. Meaning he must have dropped these off for you, even though you and Seokjin have broken up. And you’re not even sure if he knew where your new place was. You’d have to thank him soon for them. It makes the day a little less rough to have something so pretty. To know someone was thinking of you.

 You never did get the chance to thank him properly for the gift. At least directly. You’d taken him a coffee, a few days later, as thanks. He’d looked a little confused but never questioned or made you say anything out loud. Which you’re grateful for. Just because you and Seokjin split up, didn’t mean you and Yoongi couldn’t still be on friendly terms. Though you haven’t properly talked to him in quite a while. Maybe you should ask him to meet up soon. See how he’s been doing. 

But even with all the progress you’ve made and all that your friends have done for you, you still have the occasional bad day. Looking back on it, it had been years since you had one that affected you enough that you had to take off work specifically in regards to Seokjin. You’re really not sure what made it seem like the beach, this beach was the best place to go. But there was just something that called you here. 

For as painful as the breakup was, Seokjin was your first love. He was amazing while you were together. Always loving and supportive. Even when things started to fall apart.

 With a groan, you push the apartment door open, giving a harder shove when it gets jammed. Like it always does and your landlord refuses to do a thing about it. The lights are off when you finally get the door shut and your heart sinks. Seokjin was supposed to be home. You haven’t seen him for more than a few minutes in the last week. This was going to finally be the night you spent together. Throwing your bag down, you flick the lights on, seeing the cramped studio apartment is indeed empty. You pull your phone out, seeing if maybe he just ran out for something or if he was running late, but there’s nothing. 

You try not to let your disappointment consume you and instead grab your sketchbook from the shelf and decide to get some sketches done while you wait, hoping, probably vainly, that Seokjin will be back soon. 

You jerk awake to the sound of the door slamming and when you blink blearily at the clock, it’s nearly midnight. You turn to watch as Seokjin kicks his shoes off, weariness written in his posture. 

“Hey,” you croak and Seokjin gives no indication that he heard you. “Where were you?”

Seokjin straightens and sighs before turning to you. There’s a dead look in his eye that you’ve never seen before, let alone had directed at you. “Out.”

For all that you had been sad or worried, anger and confusion surges through you at his complete disregard. “Out? You could’ve texted. We were supposed to have a night in together.”

His jaw tightens and he drops his bag beside yours before moving towards the bathroom, the only place in this shithole with a door. “I had to study.”

And before you can say anything else, the bathroom door is slammed shut behind him. You stare at it incredulously. He can’t be serious. You’re just as stressed as he is. Finals are creeping in and along with that is planning for senior year. At the rate you’re going, summer is going to be unbearable. 

 You sigh, shaking the memories away. You don’t want to dwell on the bad anymore. Even if the breakup was crushing, the good times were amazing. With the sun finally below the horizon, the moon takes its place, casting cool white light across the beach. And with it, comes the peace of being alone. You let the sound of the waves lull your thoughts to silence.

But the sound of footsteps pulls your attention, confused because the beach is basically deserted at this time, the chill brought in with the moon driving most people inside. Your breath catches in your throat when you see Seokjin standing not far from you. The wind blows his hair from his face and he looks tired. A little older, but still just as handsome as he was in university.

There’s no way that this is happening. You must be dreaming. That’s right. This is just another dream. A weird continuation of the one from a couple of days ago. Seokjin isn’t really here. Not at the same time as you. Not when there’s no one around. Not when your heart feels vulnerable and you can admit that you maybe really, really miss him. Sometimes.

But the chill from the wind feels real. The wood biting into your palms where your grip has tightened on the bench feels real. He looks real and handsome and devastating. Every bit like the man who stole your heart in high school and broke it in college. Who loved to make sure his loved ones were always laughing. Who had such a flair for dramatics that it was never a surprise that he’s such a popular and talented actor. 

The jacket wrapped around his shoulders is unmistakably yours. A silly, casual design that you had done but never put into a collection cause there was never one it fit. You had sewn it on a whim, the idea eating away at you until you made it, settled the itch in your fingers. There’s only one way that Seokjin could’ve gotten that.

Hoseok. 

Have they been talking more than Hoseok let on?

Seokjin hasn’t noticed you yet and you’re wondering if you’d be able to slip away without having him notice you when he turns and freezes. He seems just as surprised and blindsided to see you as you are to see him. You stare at each other and it feels like an eternity and a million conversations pass between you both. He swallows and closes the short distance between you both and tentatively takes a seat beside you. 

He looks nervous when he turns towards you. Clearing his throat after a moment, he sticks his hand out, tentative smile on his face. “Hi, I’m Kim Seokjin.”

You almost laugh. It’s such a him thing to do. As if you would ever forget him. Seokjin left a scar on your heart, you’d carry a little piece of him for the rest of your life.

But the introduction feels like more than a way to break the tension. There’s a question hiding in his innocuous words. Is this okay? Can I be here? Can we be in each other’s lives again? 

Most importantly, it feels like a fresh start. A new chapter. You and Seokjin are different people now. You’re both successful. You’ve grown, matured, learned. You’re no longer the starry-eyed, hopeful kids in college. Full of dreams and hopes, but with so little experience. 

Who knows, maybe there won’t even be romantic feelings between you anymore. Maybe you’ll just end up friends. 

But maybe this new start is what you both need. The sun may have set on your relationship in the past, but maybe it was just what you both needed to let the sun rise now. Something new, and exciting, but still a little bit familiar. 

You take his hand with a smile. “Hi, Kim Seokjin. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

[lunarmessenger]

Don’t Say Goodbye - Saeran x MC

This one-shot is for my 100 followers special! Thank you all so much for reading my little works, and I hope you enjoy this little one-shot with Saeran! In this one-shot they will not be part of the RFA and they’re in college! so enough of me talking! Enjoy! It’s fairly long, sorry D: - luna xx

warnings: angst :))))

“What about this one, guys?” Yoosung excitedly yelled, pointing at the little map you were handed at the entrance of the theme park. The two of you had your heads pressed together, wide eyed as you looked at the assorted rides and attractions.

Your graduating class in college had offered an all free expense trip to Disneyland, and of course you just had to go with your best friend. You and Yoosung had spent countless nights working double-shifts and selling off things you no longer needed to pay for your share of the ticket; and it was nice to see all your hard work had paid off.

The both of you weren’t the only ones who had managed to pay for your tickets; Zen and Saeran were there with you, the two of them rolling their eyes with friendly smiles as they watched the two of you freak out over the map. You had looked away from the map briefly as Yoosung pointed at the different rides, your eyes meeting with Saeran’s. His striking teal eyes bore into yours and you couldn’t help but look down, a heavy feeling filling your heart as you bit your lip.

The reason you and Yoosung had worked so hard to be able to go on this trip was, well. You were going home from Korea after studying abroad, and you didn’t know if you were going to come back. Tonight would be the last night that all of you had a chance to spend an uninterrupted 24 hours together. As soon as you were back in Korea you had to take the next flight home and...that was it. You were gone. Of course Yoosung and Zen were sad but they were happy for you. You hadn’t been home in so long, and you missed your friends and family back home.

Saeran, however...felt a bit differently about it all.

While you and Yoosung were inseparable, you and Saeran were inseparable in a different way. All of you had a class together at some point, and while it took some time you and Saeran had grown incredibly close during your last year of college. Endless talks in one another’s dorm rooms, partnering together during projects and discussions.

The two of you had felt feelings that were more than friendship start to grow, and while you were open to them, Saeran did his absolute best to avoid them. During a winter dance where he’d asked you to go (as friends of course) that’s when you’d confessed your feelings to him, and he, as sweetly as he could, turned you down.

You were hurt, but you decided that it was best to move past them, especially because he’d stated that he didn’t feel the same way towards you. So you told him that it was okay, that you were over your feelings and that you’d love to stay friends. However, when you and Zen would laugh together during lunch you noticed that he’d glare daggers at him. When you laughed at one of his jokes his cheeks grew red and a fond smile took over his usually stoic face, and that smile was enough to make you go weak in the knees. When you were walking he would sometimes hold your hand, or hold you just a little too long when hugging goodbye. 

He endlessly denied those feelings and yet, his actions said the complete opposite, and it confused you to no end. It wasn’t fair; how could he tell you multiple times that he didn’t like you that way, and yet everything he did said that you were the one? It grew even worse when you’d revealed that you were going home after graduating; he put on a smile, but you could see the sadness behind his eyes whenever you were around.

“MC...? MC!” You jumped, looking at Yoosung who was raising an eyebrow.

“Are you okay? I was just suggesting that maybe we use the park hopping passes provided to us; maybe go to California Adventure?” He hoped, and you could see the excitement within him as you nodded with a shrug.

“Sure, why not?” With an excited yell he grabbed your hand, dragging you towards the park hopping area while Saeran and Zen followed behind while laughing. You all rode rides with gusto, purchasing every picture that was provided at the end of the ride so you would have memories together. You all took a break as the sun slowly started to set, deciding to share a large pizza together as you sat outside at the large gathering of tables.

Music played as you silently ate your pizza, Zen and Yoosung speaking with animated voices about the ferris wheel while Saeran looked up at the rides every now and then. It was then that you heard a low voice singing softly to the music outside, your brows furrowing as your eyes darted towards Saeran. You noticed he was stealing small glances at you, his voice mixing with Ed Sheeran’s as he sang along softly.

“How would you feel? If I told you I loved, you?” He sent you a sad smile as he sang those lyrics, your heart beating faster as you felt your face flush. Was he professing his love to you? In his own weird...way? You didn’t let your mind go there, shaking your head profusely as you gave a heavy sigh.

This is exactly what you meant; why was it that everything he said contradicted what he did? Part of you wished that you had never gained feelings for him; that you could have the friendship you had with Yoosung with him as well. To distract yourself you turned towards Zen and Yoosung, pointing towards the roller coaster across the park.

“It’s getting pretty late; should we ride the Incredicoaster before we have to leave? We still have to get souvenir’s too.” You suggested, Zen and Yoosung nodding excitedly. Zen reached over and placed his arm around you, wiggling his brows as you tilted your head.

“Hey, as long as I get to sit next to you, MC.” He flirted, making Yoosung gag while you rolled your eyes and gently pushed him away.

“Shut up, Zen.” You laughed, only stopping when you noticed Saeran roughly grab the last piece of pizza and shove it in his mouth. He was angry, that much you knew as he grabbed the now empty tray and slammed it above the trashcan where other stray trays waited to be collected.

“Let’s go.” He mumbled, avoiding eye contact with you while the others wordlessly got up after resting from eating. You and Saeran barely spoke while you waited in line, the tension tangible as Yoosung gently tapped your shoulder and whispered in your ear.

“Everything okay?” He asked, worry clouding his expression as you shrugged.

“I don’t know anymore.” Yoosung knew about your hopeless crush on Saeran, and how every time you thought he was returning the feeling he used his words to tell you that he most definitely thought of you as a friend.

“Do you want me to talk to him? He needs to make up his mind, MC. He can’t keep tossing you around like this.” You leaned your head against his shoulder, linking your arm with his as you sighed.

“Just...ride next to me? I don’t think I can handle sitting next to him on a ride where you’re literally squished together.” You sighed, Yoosung nodding as he patted your back.

“I got you MC.” He really, honestly meant to sit next to you.

But you guys got shoved around in line by a rowdy group of teenagers and now you were sitting next to Saeran on the ride, heart pounding as you avoided his eyes while the employee checked your seatbelts and bar.

“MC—”

“Don’t.” You cut him off, keeping your hands firmly on the bar as the ride took off. You tried your best to stay pouting but the ride was just too fun, and just like Zen and Yoosung you ended up screaming with joy and laughter all the way until the end. You snuck a glance at Saeran and immediately that joy was gone, worry taking over as you saw his throat bobbing and his face looking a little pale.

“Oh no,” You quickly took off your seatbelt and the bar when able, helping Saeran out of the car and taking him to the nearest trash can. Zen and Yoosung weren’t far behind, and right when they walked up Saeran was vomiting, gripping the trash can for dear life while you rubbed his back.

“It’s probably from that last slice he had.” Zen grimaced, looking away so that he didn’t become sick himself.

“Why don’t you guys go ahead and start going for the shops? I’ll help out Saeran.” Yoosung gave you an unsure look but you nodded to let him know it was okay, the two men heading towards the shop right as Saeran finished throwing up.

“Sorry, MC.” He groaned, slightly leaning against you as you helped him walk towards the tables again.

“Don’t apologize, Saeran. Are you okay?” You were still annoyed but you couldn’t help but worry, helping him sit as he gripped his stomach.

“Yeah; I should have let that last piece settle properly.” You two awkwardly sat together, avoiding each other’s gaze as Saeran allowed the cool summer air to calm down his sweating forehead.

“Uh, here.” You handed him some mints that you kept in your little pack, Saeran taking a couple and popping them into his mouth.

“Thanks.” He mumbled, the awkward silence back again as you continued to avoid eye contact with him.

“You still like me, don’t you?” The question was sudden, your eyes wide as you looked at Saeran who continued to look up towards the stars that littered the night sky. The fact that he knew you still liked him, even though you tried so hard to deny it to yourself and him was enough to make tears pool into your eyes, head immediately looking down as you slightly nodded.

“Yes, okay? Yes, I still like you; I think I love you, and I hate myself for it because I wish I didn’t.” You gasped out, trying your hardest not to sob in the middle of the happiest place on Earth. The tears hit your lap as you fiddled with your fingers, filled with anxiety as you waited for Saeran to say something, anything.

“How do you think I feel?” His tone was filled with pain and anger as you looked up in surprise, tears falling from his own eyes as he stared at you. “I don’t like getting close to people, and the first person that I feel comfortable with; feel safe with, that I....” He drifted off, sniffing as he furiously wiped his nose and eyes with his jacket sleeve.

“They’re leaving me here and I...I can’t handle that. I like you too, MC, and yet you’re leaving me to go home. I didn’t want to like you, I tried so hard but I just can’t do it!” He was frustrated, and before you knew it he’d swooped down and kissed you.

Your eyes were wide with surprise, tears still falling as his eyes were squeezed shut, hands gripping your face with desperation. You quickly returned the kiss, brows furrowed as your eyes closed and your hands lie over his. Too soon it was over as he pulled away, a sad smile on his face as he softly rubbed your cheek with his thumb.

“I love you, MC. And I hate myself for it.” His words mirrored what you said to him just moments ago, the two of you sadly laughing because of how ridiculous and cliche it all was. You had liked—loved each other for so long, and it took the last day of you being together to finally say it. You leaned your foreheads together for a few minutes before pulling away, wiping your eyes as you stood.

“We should go find Zen and Yoosung, so we can all leave together.” You quietly stated, Saeran nodding as he stood next to you and grabbed your hand. He squeezed gently as the two of you began to walk, not saying a word because, well, everything that needed to be said was said.

You just tried to make the best of it, accepting that maybe it was just...right person, wrong time.

[honeymoonjin]

**this work is still mine, i’ve changed my url from ksjinandtonicfics to honeymoonjin

A/N: part of the Open for Business Collab as part of BSC’s Summer & Smut project. Check out the playlist that accompanies this fic here.

Escaping to Venice for a break from your strenuous job was meant to be simple. Go there, decompress for two weeks, and return feeling invigorated. But the soulful gondolier you meet on the docks in Saint Mark’s Square has you wanting to never leave at all. 22.7k words.

Warnings for sexually explicit content: an overindulgent amount of foreplay, oral (f receiving), fingering, body worship, unprotected sex, premature ejaculation, multiple orgasms (m and f receiving), impregnation kink, praise kink, dirty talk, two diff smut scenes.

---

Maybe it was his stillness in the chaos of the crowd that caught your eye. The way the bustling tourists and peddlers seemed to part like magic to allow you to observe him uninterrupted from the other side of the plaza. He stood there, calmly sitting on one of the posts at the inner side of the dock, reading an old paperback.

He was young; couldn't have been more than 25, yet he wore the oddest outfit you had ever seen on a man his age. Deep navy pants, ballooning slightly around his thighs and coming in snugly around his knees and calves. A baggy, squarish striped shirt tucked into those pants, and a black beret. You were pretty sure gondoliers were meant to wear those flat hats with the ribbons that you had seen the rest donning, but you couldn't deny that it gave his face a golden glow, framing the light brown hair and heavyset brows below it. Odder still were his glasses; rounded lenses with spindly silver frames, and a thin cord tied to the outer edges and connecting around the back of his neck. You had seen them before on librarians and elderly people, but never on a young adult like himself.

Picking your way through the crowds, you keep him in sight, observing the way he'd occasionally look up from his novel to check on his ornately carved gondola, as if he was expecting customers to just hop right on in. As you drew nearer, you can see a sign at his feet, propped up and displaying prices and rules, written down three columns: Italian, English, and what you recognised vaguely to be Korean. You let out a breath of relief. He did speak English, then.

You finally come to a stop directly in front of him, shifting your weight awkwardly, tipping your head to try and catch his attention subtly, but he seems entranced in the novel.

You can see through his splayed fingers that the ragged, yellowed book that has him oblivious to the world around him is Heidi. You could laugh at the thought of a man in Venice getting deeply absorbed in the world of a little girl in Switzerland, but instead it endears you to watch him for a moment, eyebrows twitching slightly in surprise every now and again, an unconscious smile playing at his lips.

You glance around the square once more, feeling a little silly, and perhaps even rude for just standing here and staring at him. Clearing your throat and waving your hand at him a little, you manage to peak his attention. "Hi, excuse me, do you speak English? I'm looking for a gondola ride."

His shoulders jump a little at the sudden voice, and he slips a delicate pointer finger between the pages he's on to mark his spot as he straightens up. You withhold a gasp when his eyes meet yours and his face is fully turned to you. Part of you almost wishes you never approached him, as you know you're bound to make a fool of yourself in his presence. His eyes are the smoothest, deepest brown you think you've ever seen, magnified behind those lenses, and while the majority of his face is finely sculpted and symmetrical, his eyelids are uneven; the quirk only serves to make him more attractive. There's a mole right under one eye, and another in the middle of his opposite cheek. Those small details take your breath away; he looks so stunningly perfect, that you're glad you spoke before really looking at him; you wouldn’t have gotten the courage otherwise.

He gives you an easy smile, his eyes narrowing happily. He's pleased you came up to him, and the thought warms you inside. "Of course. First time in Venice?"

You nod shyly. "That obvious?"

His lip twitches up. "You're wearing business casual in a city where the main forms of transport are boats and walking. I would go so far as to suggest it's your first day."

You laugh nervously, glancing down at the blouse-and-pencil skirt combo you had donned this morning. "These are really the only types of clothes I own. Anyway, uh, the sign says 100 euros, right? How long's the ride?"

He finally puts down the book; slipping in an embroidered handkerchief from his back pocket as a bookmark and chucking it into the main compartment of the boat. "Depends on how big the waves get," he replies easily, tipping his head as he looks over you.

You splutter. "The waves? Oh, I don't want to get on if it's-"

"Relax, uptown girl, I'm just playing with you. It's an hour round trip. Most gondoliers only take forty-five minutes, but I like to be more thorough, get you a real good feel for the city. And it's actually 80 euros."

"Oh." You blink down to the placard by his feet, then up to him. "The sign says 100."

His grin is different to last time, less boxy and open, more sly. He pats you on the shoulder teasingly. "Take the discount, sweetheart. In you get."

It takes you an embarrassingly long time to get on board. With legs wobbling more than a new-born deer, you gratefully accept his hand and shoulder to lean on for support so that you can step off the dock and into the carpeted bay.

Although narrow, there's a surprising amount of room; you look around as the man behind you starts to unmoor the gondola from the dock. The bench you're sitting on now is lushly upholstered, and even has silk cushions with intricate designs like something off a Persian rug. It faces you to the front of the boat, away from the man. In front of you are two square stools that are bolted down at the bottom. "I didn't catch your name," you call out, twisting around, feeling surprisingly stable amongst the rocking of the vessel.

He's standing on a platform on the left back, and you have to crane your neck up to see his face as he smiles calmly down at you. "You never thought to ask before getting into a stranger's boat. Oh, my." Your hands fly out to grip the sides of the gondola as he kicks off from the dock with a hard shove of his foot, and the boat begins to heavily cut through the still water. "My name is Taehyung. To whom do I owe the pleasure?"

You give him your name with a friendly smile, then turn back around to face the front, watching as the golden angel figurehead appears to navigate the cloudy teal waters. You'd be quite content to sit here in amiable silence, letting the taxing strains of the job you'd taken a break from slip away from you, but it seems Taehyung is not.

"So, what brings you to Venice?"

A part of you dies inside. You hate small talk. "Vacation, of course."

He hums, unsatisfied with your curt response. "Well, I was thirteen when I came here," he reveals, and you're secretly glad you're facing away from him as you pull a face of annoyance. "A woodworker took me in to his home and taught me how to live like a real Venetian. I fell in love with this place; the history, the culture, the way of life. I'm still friends with his son, who's since inherited the family business. Strangely enough, they were Korean too, which, I suppose, was why the old man took pity on me like he did. It's a small world, after all. I owe him everything."

Your eyes are wide with awkward tension once he finishes. What the fuck were you supposed to say to that? "Oh, wow," you state lamely. It feels wrong to let those words fizzle into an unsympathetic silence. "Could you tell me about Venice, then? I think the gondoliers are meant to give proper guided tours, right? Like, what's this bridge here?"

You point ahead at the impressive structure, though it's not like he would miss it. It bridges the gap of the whole Grand Canal, white stone that arched gracefully below, and housed a pathway on top that was filled with tourists.

"The Rialto," he clarifies simply. With a slight laugh, his voice becomes playful again. "Are you not impressed with my tour so far? Am I not living up to your expectations?"

You frown and swivel back around to face him. "I didn't mean that," you protest hastily, "I just thought this would be more Venetian history and less... autobiographical."

His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and your eyes are caught by the flash of pink, swallowing hard. "My apologies," he replies flatly, though you can tell he's not seriously annoyed, "I'll be sure to save my emotional tale of adolescence for the therapist."

You let out a surprised laugh, and he cocks an eyebrow at you, hands resting easily on the oar that he uses to steer the gondola slightly rightwards around a gradual bend in the canal. The strangely combative energy dissolves away, and you let the tension in your shoulders ease.

Once you settle back in against the pillows, he does as requested and gives you a very informative narration for the remainder of your tour. Important dates in history, facts about the culture, even small tidbits of advice here and there when you'd pass a cafe he deemed 'exceptional' or a restaurant with 'marvellous' cannelloni.

In fact, by the time he docks you back at the main square, you're reluctant to get out, handing over the cash gratefully. "Thank you," you gush once your feet land back on solid ground, "I had an amazing time." You loiter, not wishing to leave this experience behind just yet. Or maybe it was him that you didn't want to leave. "So, what are you going to do now? It's getting late."

He eyes you curiously, like he's searching for something, then shrugs. "More of the same," he answers breezily. "Every day I come here in the early afternoon and park up. I'll bring a book or something to do, and hang around in case somebody wants a ride." He breaks off to laugh at himself, tugging at the hair that peeks out the back of his beret. "Honestly, you're the first person who's approached me in weeks. Normally I just wait around until everyone else has left for the night and go home for a late dinner."

Your knit your eyebrows. "That's really sad," you state genuinely, "I thought a job like this would drum up a lot of business."

"Ah, I'm sure it does for some people," he allows, eying up the few gondoliers that still remain in the square, roaming the cobblestoned courtyard, holding up sandwich boards and loudly announcing their bargains for the day. You're glad you didn't choose them. They seem boisterous and tacky compared to the gentleman in front of you. Taehyung sighs. "I've never been a good advertiser, I suppose. The right people will come to me." He winks at you jauntily, but his face quickly falls again. "Ah well, it was nice to meet you. Enjoy the rest of your trip, now? Like I said, don't forget to use the Vaporetto if you're wanting to explore the city more. It's far cheaper than the water taxis."

"Thank you," you repeat. For a moment, you stay standing in front of him as he stares at you in bemusement, but you can come up with nothing else to say to him, so you turn around and walk away.

--

You hadn't slept well. In an effort to enjoy the fruits of your hard-earned wealth, you had eaten at an extremely expensive restaurant - a seafood platter and then some gelato on the walk home to cleanse your palate. You promised yourself that tomorrow, you'd explore some more of the city.

But the moment you tucked yourself into the plush silk sheeted bed of the five star hotel you were staying at, your thoughts fell, almost unconsciously, to Taehyung

The gondolier that apparently hadn't had any customers in weeks before you chose to follow your curious streak. You tried to imagine what his living situation must look like if he wasn't earning any money from his job. Certainly he wouldn't have been able to afford the luxuries you had been indulging in.

But then again, that was what you got when you didn't work hard. He had said it himself; he didn't like drumming up business. Your whole career was built on that determination, that drive, something that seemed to be completely missing in him. Oh well. That was his problem to deal with, not yours.

To your credit, you had attempted to venture further out from the main square, wandering around the streets in search for something to do to get your mind off him. But the stupidest things would make your brain revert back to him.

An old bookstore. You wondered if this was where he had purchased his copy of Heidi. A man in a striped shirt taking a photo in front of a fountain. You recalled the way Taehyung's was perfectly tailored to show off his neck and some of his collarbones. Even when you took the Vaporetto, the main source of public transport on the water, you couldn't help but think of how much smoother it was to glide along the canals in Taehyung's gondola.

You had meant to take the water bus all the way to the far end of the main island, but you found yourself disembarking at Saint Mark's Square. Your eyes sought out Taehyung at the docks, and an inexplicable warm burst of relief settled in your chest when you found him, leaning against that same post, nose in the book.

You took two steps towards the dock, then paused, sending a few disgruntled tourists knocking into you and walking away muttering. He had farewelled you, you remember. Wished you well for the rest of the trip and even suggested you took the water bus instead. He probably didn't want you to go to him again. You would hate to prevent other potential customers for using his services, besides.

The smart thing would have been to give up, grab some lunch and carry on with your day. Instead, you found yourself holed up in a bougie cafe, the Florian or something, not that you had paid much attention. Barely glancing at the menu, you pointed out a cold beverage and a scallops dish, then scouted out a good table.

From here, you could just make him out through the crowd. With the same black beret and glasses, and a somewhat similar striped top, the only real difference was that his navy pants had been replaced by bright red. Streaks of the crimson shade would peek out at you from between tourists, and your heart would give a little jump every time his face came into view as well.

A small smile played at your face unknowingly when you watched him come to the end of the book, presumably the same one as last time, and sigh, tossing it into the gondola morosely, before taking off his glasses and letting them hang from the cord around his neck.

You couldn't explain what kept you here, topping up your overpriced Italian soda, even as the waitress insistently offered you the bill. You were curious, that much you knew. Curious about whether he'd get any customers or not.

The moment he gets another customer, you vow, I'm going. As the hours passed, you really couldn't say if you wanted him to get a customer or not. It displeased you to see him there so bored, with nothing left to do but wait now that his book had been finished, and you were a little worried about his financial situation.

As other gondoliers came and went, some of the more charming ones forming lines by their concession stands, you saw Taehyung stare hopelessly into the crowd, eyes following all the couples and families that walked right past him. His eyes had drooped on the edges. His chin tucked down to his chest.

You stood up abruptly, the chair legs scraping against the outdoor tiling. The waitress nearest you jumps at the noise, but quickly rushes over and hands you the black leather folder with your bill inside. You're too distracted to care, but the total makes you falter for a moment, handing over the cash with a hurried motion so that you can slip out of the shade and into the full blare of the sun.

Now that you were pushing your way through the thronging crowd, you had to force yourself not to break into a jog. Why can't I just leave enough alone? you questioned. Why do I care so much?

"Taehyung," you shout as you approach him, drinking in his reaction. He starts, breaking from his trance-like state of boredom, and his eyes slide around the crowd until they land on you. A boxy grin lights up his face, eyebrows lifted in surprise. When you come to a stop right in front of him, you feel breathless. "Taehyung," you repeat, "I don't suppose you have enough time to squeeze me in for another go?"

He scoffs good-naturedly. "Always time for you, uptown girl."

You can't stop the beam that stretches across your face now that you're back in his presence. He's addictive; a voice like honey and eyes sweeter than sugar. You feel a little dizzy. "My name is Y/n, you know." Your eyes widen. "Oh god, I did tell you my name last time, right?”

"You sure did," he chuckles, "but I like uptown girl more. Suits you."

You bite your lip awkwardly as his eyes roam over you in bemusement. This morning, you had swapped out your trusty black heels for some flats, but you had still donned a skirt-and-blouse combo. Having only work-appropriate clothes in your suitcase, you were left with no other option. Perhaps a more constructive use of your morning would've been to go shopping, you think. "Is it just the same tour? Or do you have, I don't know, different ones?"

He blinks at you, looks down at the gondola, then back at you again. "Honestly," he admits, "no. You're the first one who's ever come back for a second time. Most people are one and done, you know?"

"Oh." You shrug awkwardly, feeling a little stupid. "I guess just the same tour is fine, then. It's okay."

His eyes flicker up to the clouds without focus as he ponders something, humming unconsciously. "How about this? I need to stop by the squero to get that stool fixed," he points at the stool on the right half of the gondola, which you notice is on an angle, with a couple of bolts missing at the bottom, "so, how about I give you a real taste of Venice? Not just the touristy shit."

Something about the thought that you were venturing somewhere a little more... private excites you. "The squero?" you inquire, not familiar with the term.

His smile widens at your interest, and your heart jumps when some clouds part, and the sun streams down on him. He's too attractive to be in this job, you think. He's radiant. Unaware of the turn your thoughts have taken, he simply sighs blissfully and tips his head up to receive the warm rays, eyes closing. "The squero," he repeats, voice huskier than before, "it's just a district where us gondoliers go for repairs. In fact," his eyes crack open and his head snaps back down to capture your gaze suddenly, "I do believe I told you about the workshop yesterday. It's where I grew up. I hope you were listening."

You laugh reflexively at his teasing grin. "Thanks to your unorthodox methods, I think I remember that part of the ride more than the actual tour."

"Unorthodox methods," he muses, nodding slowly, "that's a new one. Hop on in, then, uptown girl, let's go for a joyride."

--

The workshop you dock at seems much like Taehyung himself; homely, humble, and impossibly endearing. Strangely enough, it comes as somewhat of a contrast to the rest of Venice, as the design of the building’s façade is closer to what you’d see on a mountain chalet. Instead of the white stone and tan roof combination that is seen throughout the rest of the city, this shop, and some others along the backstreet canal you were in, had dark, rough wood exteriors like a log cabin, and several small balconies with heavy forest green curtains and flowerboxes. The bottom level is the workshop; the entire front is a sliding door that has been pushed all the way open, and it seems the upper levels might be residential, for the workers to live in.

“So, this is where you grew up? Seems nice.” You don’t mean to sound ingenuine, but it comes out flat, so you rush to explain yourself. “It looks really…warm and welcoming. It’s different.”

His voice comes above you, distracted as he navigates the gondola to park right in front of the storefront. “Different? Isn’t the whole point of a nostalgic childhood home to be warm and welcoming? It’s where your family is, after all.”

“Eh,” you shrug non-committedly, “mine was more of a…museum exhibit on houses, or a movie set or something. Flat, cold. Nostalgia isn’t really a concept I’m all that familiar with. Or family, for that matter.”

Taehyung rests the oar on its forcola and steps down into the bay where you’re sitting, taking a seat across from you in the unbroken stool. He lets his gaze hang heavy over you, deep brown eyes fixed to yours. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he states with a serious emphasis, “for me, family is everything. I can’t imagine life without my loved ones.” You’re a little taken aback by his earnest delivery, more so when he rests a hand on your knee, the contact burning hot through the thin material of your pantyhose.

“Uh, it’s okay,” you reply breathlessly, “I keep busy.”

His mouth droops at the edges at that comment, but he picks it up to give you a reassuring smile and squeeze your knee. “Come on. I was gonna drop you off at the café down the road while I sorted this out, but how about you come inside with me, yeah? I’ll introduce you to some full-blooded Venetians.”

Those ‘full-blooded Venetians’ turn out to be two young men, vaguely Taehyung’s and your age, arguing loudly across the workshop floor in an endearing mix of Korean, English and Italian as the two of you enter, drowning out the light jingle of an overhead bell when you first step over the threshold.

“We have a visitor,” Taehyung loudly proclaims in English, and you grin at the way his commanding voice carries across the room, shutting the two men up.

The one hunched over a bench covered in wood shavings looks up from the chair leg he’s carving. His pillowed lips are tensed in a pout and he gestures angrily with a metal file at the other, a younger boy who’s standing at the far end with an oily rag tucked into some old jeans, carrying a pile of gleaming tools. As if in an effort to include you, the older man shifts seamlessly into complete English himself. “This kid seriously just asked me why we don’t just put the tools in a dishwasher to save him polishing them! Please tell me your guest is here about the job opening!”

You feel terribly small around these new people, and instinctively you find yourself shuffling closer to Taehyung, feet sliding silently across the worn stone floor. Taehyung reaches over to pat you on the back, then leaves pressure there as he walks you forward further in. “A customer,” he explains, “so please play nice.”

The boy, having been left out of the conversation for too long, dumps the tools noisily in a white bucket, making the three of you cringe at the clanging, then rushes over, skidding to a stop in front of you. “Jungkook,” he introduces himself as, “it’s an honour to have such a beautiful lady in my shop.”

“Your shop?” the elder asks incredulously, slamming the stick of wood on his work bench and standing up, brushing tight curls of wood off his faded blue tee. “Do you pay rent and electricity? The moment someone applies for your position, you’re out! I’m Jin, by the way,” he mentions off-hand to you, before Jungkook lets out an offended cry.

“So what, you’re just gonna throw me by the wayside as soon as you find someone else?”

“Oh boy,” Taehyung murmurs, grimacing and shrugging at you apologetically.

Jungkook’s not finished. “What about all the hours I’ve spent here, hyung? I worked my way up from the bottom!”

“You’re still at the bottom, idiot.” Jin pinches the bridge of his nose. “You never listen to me, Jungkook, and you’re not good at your job. That’s the base line of it.”

The younger’s mouth falls open. He opens and closes it a few times, before shaking his head in disbelief. “I’m not good at my job? What about that figurehead I carved for that customer, hm? What about that?”

“You’re meant to carve mermaids, or angels, or something like that, Jungkook! Not one of your anime girls!”

There’s a vein sticking out on Jungkook’s neck and you’re a little concerned it’s going to burst with the way he’s clenching his jaw. “Hatsune Miku is an angel, Jin! How could you even say that?”

“Guys,” Taehyung slips in tiredly, “I said play nice. Y/n here is new to Venice. I don’t want to scare her away because you crackheads can’t act normal for two seconds.”

“Oh, yeah,” Jin notes pleasantly, as if he hadn’t been deeply entrenched in a catfight moments before, “you said she was a customer. What are you looking to buy, then?”

As amusing as the fight was, you now wish Taehyung had just let you wait at a random café. It’s a little arresting having the full attention of three extremely handsome young men on you. “Oh, not a customer of you guys. I went on Taehyung’s gondola tour yesterday.”

Jungkook gasps. “Uptown girl!”

Your eyes widen and you snap your head around to look up at Taehyung, whose golden cheeks are warm with a blush. He laughs awkwardly, and in the back of your mind you hope he speaks for a while so that you can keep watching him at this close proximity. It’s a different feeling from when you’re sitting down in the gondola and he’s up steering. Taehyung tugs at the hair at the nape of his neck. “I may have…mentioned you,” he admits sheepishly, “but it’s just because you were my first customer in a while. I was excited.”

“He sure was excited,” Jungkook manages to get out before Jin whacks him on the back of the head. “Ow! Hey! Anyway, it’s nice to get to meet you. You guys going on a date now or what?” Another hit has Jungkook lashing out at Jin with an angry frown, but the elder just widens his eyes meaningfully at him.

You splutter. “N-No, I just wanted another ride, that’s all.” Jungkook cackles, and this time even Jin can’t defend your honour. “God, I’m sorry, that was poor phrasing. Pun not intended.”

"Anyway," Taehyung continues, "I'm really here because one of my stools is coming loose, I need you to check out the bolts and tighten them up. Would you mind making sure that the wood underneath hasn't scratched too?"

Jungkook frowns. "This isn't about you, hyung. Keep your head in the game." He turns to you as Jin huffs and double-checks the tool belt hanging low on his hips, before heading out the front of the shop. Now without the presence of his boss, Jungkook shifts his weight to one side and gives you a once-over. "Y/n, right? What are your intentions with my brother?"

Your mind goes blank as you stare at the young man. "A...gondola ride? Around the canals? As his service offers?"

Jungkook purses his lips and narrows his eyes, staying silent for a moment, before the tension dissipates and he gives you a wide grin. "Excellent! Now, here are the basics: Taehyung enjoys photography, pasta, and long walks on the beach. He's an excellent swimmer and he knows how to play the saxophone although I accidentally dropped his in the canal once and he can't afford to buy another one, so he's probably a little rusty. He's good with money, but can be a little forgetful, he believes in love at first sight and wants three kids: a boy and two girls. Hyung, did I miss anything?"

You're pretty sure your mouth is hanging open, but you can't think to close it. Taehyung's eyebrows are raised in exasperation and surprise. "Kookie, no wonder you don't have a girlfriend. That's too far."

"Yeah, because I'm too busy advertising you! You're a hard sell, buddy, you know that?" Jungkook sends him a quick thumbs up before scampering away, thumping his way up a set of stairs at the far end of the room.

Taehyung sighs and collapses down at the workbench Jin was previously at, lazily pushing some wood shavings into a little pile with a finger. "Man, I'm sorry about him. He can get a little overexcited sometimes. Don't take anything he said seriously."

You already feel more comfortable now that it's just the two of you in the room, even though you can hear distant videogame gunshots from upstairs and Jin singing to himself as he worked on the gondola outside. With a sly grin, you ask, "oh, so you don't know how to play the saxophone? I knew it, I pinned you as more of a kazoo type anyway."

He chuckles, relieved that you're not too weirded out by the confronting conversation. "No, he was telling the truth about that. I studied in my spare time for almost six years while I had that old saxophone. It was second hand, and I would always imagine myself standing on a great big stage, like Carnegie Hall or something, giving this old instrument a new life." He scoffs good-naturedly at his own words, and stares down at his hands. "Sorry, in case you haven't noticed I'm a bit of a sop. Hopeless romantic, if you want to phrase it nicer."

Your eyes linger on the delicate arch of his neck, the veins in the backs of his hands, the mole on his cheek, the strong brows. Your voice is so soft it barely reaches him. "There's nothing hopeless about you."

He looks up in mild surprise, eyebrows raised and mouth slightly open. You lick your lip subconsciously, feeling as usual the way your heart raced when his eyes were on you. You think you catch them flickering down to watch the movement, but at this distance you can't be sure. You wish you were standing closer. "Y/n," he utters softly, and you realize with a bolt of excitement up your spine that it's the first time he's directly addressed you by name, "how long are you staying in Venice?" His eyes are glimmering, even in the relatively dim light of the workshop, hopeful smile playing at his lips.

Oh. You wish you had a better answer to give him than the truth. You’ve only met him twice, but you already hate the thought of leaving him and returning to your normal life. "Two weeks," you reply a little louder than needed, wanting to disperse a little of that weird electricity in the air. "Well, only eleven more days now."

He nods slowly, face falling. His gaze is directed towards you, but distant, like he's seeing right through you. You don't like it. "Well, then, if you ever have nothing to do one day, you know where I'll be."

You give him a grateful smile, then gasp, shoving your hand in your purse. "Wait, that reminds me, here's your eighty euros for the ri-"

"Keep it," he mumbles with a slightly pained smile. "I can't take money from you for coming with me while I do my own errands. I didn't realize it would take this long, I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," you protest reflexively, uneasy at the way his disposition had suddenly become so gloomy. The singing outside has stopped, and a quick glance shows Jin packing up his tools and disembarking the gondola. "I had fun today, Taehyung. Thank you." You bite your tongue, holding back the words you were about to foolishly say. Besides, you need the money more than I do.

He nods, then blinks out of his haze when the bell jingles to signify Jin's arrival. "What's the damage?" Taehyung asks, his voice perfectly chipper and a world removed from the sullen tone you had just received. Still, something in his expression remains sad, and you can't help but feel guilty, wondering if you had some part to play in his strange behaviour.

The way Jin's eyebrows narrow tells you he's picked up on Taehyung's glum mood, but he doesn't bring it up. "Don't worry about it, Tae. You know we won't charge you."

He hums gratefully, then stands up, rolling his shoulders. "Thanks, hyung. I appreciate it. Anyway, I need to go drop Y/n off back at Saint Mark's, so I probably won't come back here before I go home."

Over Taehyung's shoulder, Jin frowns at you meaningfully, eyes soft with concern for his friend. You wave a dismissive hand. "Oh, that's okay, you don't have to do that. I was actually going to suggest I could walk back. You know, use the chance to explore a little more of Venice."

"Ah, good idea," Jin says loudly, giving you a grateful smile. "Taehyung, why don't you stay for dinner?"

The young man fixes you an unsure glance, so you just give him a quick wave, and turn around to leave. He doesn't protest.

--

Your third day sees you pounding the pavement, determined to spend your time thinking about something other than Taehyung's strange attitude the other day. You fully plan on going back to Saint Mark's Square at some point, to give him his eighty euros if nothing else, but for now you get the Vaporetto to drop you off at one far end of the city, aimlessly wandering through streets to find your way back.

It's a nice way to spend your morning, and the fresh air is a welcome change from the stuffy, perfumed rooms of the hotel you were staying at. In fact, last night you had found the hotel more suffocating than ever; like those perfectly wallpapered walls were gradually getting closer and closer together when you weren't looking.

For the first time since stepping foot in Venice, you had even entered some of the stores you passed. Picking up some souvenirs to put on your work desk when you returned, a pair of overpriced yet insanely comfortable kitten heels, and some romance books you had found in a bargain bin in this tiny bookstore down a dark alley, you were feeling happy with your purchases, but more than ready to make your way back to your hotel room and ease the strain of the bag handles pulling heavily at your forearms. With the help of Google Maps, you managed to find a street you recognised, one that led directly on to your hotel.

Putting your phone away, you simply let yourself enjoy all of your senses being overwhelmed by this new place. Although you were walking along a stone road, you could smell the salt of the canal that ran parallel to it, behind the buildings on your left side. Upon your initial arrival, you had turned your nose up at it, quite literally. It wasn't the fresh and clean salt smell of the sea, but was tainted with inner city living, the litter from passers-by and the petrol from boat engines. It had felt like an illusion broken, but now you were beginning to get used to it, to appreciate the story that brackish water told.

As you strolled, your reflection in the gleaming glass panes of the storefronts strolled with you, and you found yourself turning your head every so often to get a glance at it. Was it the romance in the air, or did this version of you look a little taller? A little brighter, a little less run-down? No more than two and a half days here, and you were already dreading your inevitable return to the monotonous trudge of your working life.

A sudden, metallic glare cuts right into your retinas and you squint, pausing in the street. The shop you stand across is unbelievably old, more so that its worn companions beside it. Paint flakes away from the wooden sign, so that the cursive Venetian Antiques can barely be deciphered. The main window, presumably the cream of the crop to draw in customers, is mostly filled with vases of delicately blown glass and figurines carved with rich dark woods, but right in the middle, on a purple velvet cushion corded with gold, lies a saxophone, slightly beaten in on one side but polished to gleaming perfection, sporting a small paper tag tied around one of the keys. Jumping out of the way of a small boy running recklessly down the street without shoes, you take the hint to stop standing in the middle of the path, and walk right up to the glass. Now that you're near enough, you can rise up on the tips of your toes to catch a glimpse at the price, scrawled with an extremely curlicued dollar sign. $850. You just about stumble straight into the glass when you read it. Holy fucking shit! No wonder he couldn't afford a new one at that cost, and this one was second-hand too.

A jingle of a bell catches your attention, and you pull your gaze to the side, where an old man pokes his head out, tugging unconsciously at the end of his greying beard. "In che posso servirLa?"

Your eyes widen as you blink at him. “Sorry, I don’t…”

He smiles good-naturedly, ruddy cheeks lifting to crinkle the corner of his eyes. "I asked," he translates in a thick Italian accent, "how I could help you. Do you need help?"

"Oh." You smile gratefully then look back at the saxophone. You should just walk away. It's stupid... "Is this price negotiable?"

"The saxophone?" He grins. "Of course, I am Italian. Come inside, signorina."

The antiques store is musty as all others are, but instead of feeling cramped and stuffed with useless unwanted items, something about it seems magical, romantic. As the old man reaches into the display case to pull out the instrument, you wander around the main bay of the store, looking over the offerings. A tall bookcase closer to the back of the shop, just beside the counter, holds rows and rows of worn paperbacks, some with rubber bands just to hold them in one piece. You wonder if this was where Taehyung brought Heidi. You wonder why all your thoughts lead back to Taehyung these days.

The voice approaching you from behind knocks you out of your musings. "A beautiful instrument, the saxophone. How long have you played?"

"Oh, I," you bite your lip as he walks around and rests it gently on the countertop. Why were you even looking at it? "I wanted to maybe buy it as a gift for a... a friend."

"A friend?" he repeats, wiggling his eyebrows teasingly. "For just a friend, this is six hundred euros, but for a lover... four-fifty. We are in Venice, after all."

You splutter and flush, but he takes no notice other than to grin salaciously at you. "I don't have that much cash on me," you admit.

He scoffs heartily and bends down to rummage below the counter, returning with a small wireless machine. "Then it is so good for you that we live in the 21st Century and not the Dark Ages, hm? €450?"

I can still back out, the rational voice in the back of your mind screams. This is stupid, and it would blow your entire Christmas bonus from last year that you had taken such care to save. But you found yourself handing over your credit card nonetheless, feeling your heart race as he went into a back room to fetch the case and accompanying materials.

Your arm muscles scream every step back to your hotel, but for some reason even that doesn't stop you from smiling giddily the whole way.

--

"You're back, uptown girl!"

The fact that he noticed you before you got the chance to call out to him, as well as the use of your nickname again, has your spirits peaking immediately. You beam like a child on their birthday and nod. "Here," you state quickly, thrusting your clenched fist out to him, several paper notes sticking out, "the eighty euros for the trip yesterday."

He raises a brow at you, working his jaw, before sighing in bemused exasperation and gratefully accepting the cash. "I forgot to tell you something yesterday..."

You blink up at him. "What?"

"I have a lucrative buy-two-get-one-free deal going."

You could laugh at the deadpan expression on his face, but instead you just smile widely. "Oh, really? I thought you never got repeat customers?"

He shoots you a warning look, wry smile tugging at his lips. "Hence why I forgot to tell you earlier. Come on in, then, let's go!"

You have to appreciate his enthusiasm, and you can't pretend like you're not thrilled at the fact that he clearly wants you around. This time, when you hop into the gondola, you sit on the newly repaired stool instead of the upholstered couch. This way, you can face him head-on. Once he stands in position and glances down at you, he laughs quietly and shakes his head.

"You're meant to be enjoying the view," he advises, waving a hand out in front of him.

You don't waver. "I am."

Taking a ride while facing the wrong way is dangerous enough in a train or campervan. Here, on the gently bobbing water, it's hellish. Of course, you don't let him know that, though you're sure he's noticed the death grip you have on the curved wood sides of the boat. Taehyung himself glides as smoothly as ever, parting the water with a steady hand on the oar, occasionally stretching a leg out to kick off a wall that approaches too closely, but now that you can no longer see what's ahead, every slight judder or turn has your stomach sloshing more so than the canal water itself.

It's worth it, though, to be able to gaze upon his profile as the slowly setting sun lights it up in a rich bronze glow, sharp jaw casting shadows on the column of his neck. You can almost forget the way your heart bobs in your chest to match the gondola when you let yourself drown in Taehyung. "You know," you point out casually about fifteen minutes into your ride, "I've gone past some other gondolas who have been singing. Can't you sing for me?"

He huffs out his nose with an incredulous smile. "The man that raised me once told me, ‘never fall in love with a woman, son. They're never satisfied.’"

"I can be satisfied," you think softly, and it's not until he looks down at you sharply in surprise that you realise you spoke aloud. "I'm sure you have a beautiful voice."

His eyes waver at the clarification, the smile faltering. "The singing," he muses, "yes, I suppose I do. Alright, then."

You're glad that you chose to suffer the motion sickness of the gliding gondola, because nothing could be better than those next forty-odd minutes. He has the voice of an angel to match that face of his, and you find yourself totally speechless. The first song is quiet, like he's unsure; more of a whisper than a melody. His eyes keep darting to you and away, but your reassurance once he's finished that it was truly magical has his confidence growing. The songs aren't all the same either; he mixes traditional Italian love songs with hauntingly beautiful Korean ballads; powerful opera with a sweet lullaby he remembered his mother singing to him as a baby.

When he pulls up back at that familiar dock, you don't want to acknowledge it. Don't want to leave at all. You stay motionless, sat on the stool as you stare up at him in wonder.

He looks back from mooring the boat, one foot up on the dock in a crouch, the other still on the boat, holding them close together. Your eyes are firmly fixed to his upper arms, the way the muscles strain under the light grey cotton of his striped shirt. It's clearly a staple of his, among the black beret and ballooned pants. He notices you staring and gives the rope an extra firm tug with a cheeky grin on his face. "Come on now, pretty girl. Show's over; it's getting late. You want a hand up?"

With a satisfied smile, you stretch out your hand and place it in his palm. He steps up, both feet on the dock, and practically lifts you out with the one arm. Stumbling a little with the voracity of the motion, you're forced to press your hands against his chest to avoid barrelling into him, and the touch sends a shock running up your spine.

Taehyung's eyes meet yours, then lift to stare at your hair. Mouth parting in surprise, he lifts up a hand. You instinctively duck, then straighten up and let him run his fingers through your hair. You're completely bewildered, until he pulls his hand back down and shows you the dried-up, dead petal that was caught between the strands.

"I wonder how that got there," he muses, eyes lighting up with mischief as a smile overtakes his face, "I should probably check to make sure there aren't any more." And with that suggestion, he promptly lifts both hands up to slip his fingers under your hair, calloused pads running along your scalp, and slowly dragging them out again, your hair tugging slightly on the occasional knot or snag. He does this once on top, second underneath by the nape of your neck, and then one last time starting from just above your ears, only this time he pauses when his hands are buried deep in your hair.

Your eyes are wide and your breath is shallow. "Taehyung," you whisper, though you don't know why. His name just slips out of you like a reflex, or a prayer.

His deep brown eyes are searching intently over your face, stopping when you dip your tongue out to wet your rapidly drying lips. Almost unconsciously, you're tipping your chin up, eyelids fluttering lower and lower.

The moment his grip on you tightens slightly and his brow lowers in determination, your eyes fall shut, and you lick your lips quickly once more, waiting for his kiss. But after a moment, nothing comes.

Just when you go to open your eyes again, internally dying of embarrassment at somehow misreading the situation, you feel the slightest of pressure right in the middle of your left cheek.

Not so much as breathing, you stand perfectly still, mouth parted as his lips leave you and plant an equally soft kiss on your right cheek. After that, a shorter pause than earlier before you feel him kiss your forehead, just below the hairline, and the tip of your nose immediately afterwards.

Almost shaking in his hold, you wait in anticipation for a kiss on your lips, but then his hands are slipping out of your hair, and your eyes are opening back in confusion, and his cheeks are a fiery pink as he fails to meet your gaze.

As he takes a deep breath to centre himself, you find yourself in a haze, wondering if he would've kissed you properly had you brought that saxophone with you. But then the fog clears, and you're berating yourself at the thought of buying his affections like that.

Taehyung blinks and swallows hard, clearing his voice before he speaks, although he can't hide how husky it's become. "I- We- I'm sorry, I... I have to go."

You watch in stunned silence, four different parts of your face tingling wildly, as he abandons his gondola, and you, and rushes frantically forward, disappearing amongst the crowd.

--

You wonder if he was waiting for you today. Perhaps you're just a coward, but you don't think you could've faced him after yesterday. Instead, you've spent the day holed up in your room, moping around in a white hotel robe, doing absolutely nothing but reliving that moment with Taehyung over and over again in your head. At the current moment, the sun is setting over Venice, and you're sitting cross-legged on the bed, staring at that worn leather case on the glass desk.

It's in the same place as where you gently placed it yesterday. Looking over it now, you feel stupid. Naive. Almost five hundred euros spent on a man who was practically a stranger to you. How could you have been that impulsive with your own hard-earned cash? If you really felt like helping out the poor gondolier, there were better things you could've done with that money.

Still, your stomach twists when you think of walking back up to that antiques store to try and get the sweet Italian gentleman to buy it back from you. A gift for a lover. You scoff bitterly.

The room starts to get dark, so you heave yourself off of the tall mattress to go turn the light on. The switch is above the desk, however, and you find yourself hovering, staring down at that case with an indecipherable myriad of feelings swirling inside you. You might as well take a proper look...

Your hands float hesitantly over the silver clips for a moment before you take a deep breath and pop them open, flipping the lid over to reveal the gleaming instrument inside. It's gorgeous, gleaming, yet when you look closer you can see those tell-tale signs of wear. A thin scratch across the surface of one key, a small dent near the bottom of the open bell. The mouthpiece is slightly chipped. These things don't occur to you as flaws, however, but as quiet hints to this saxophone's history. Those differences make it all the more beautiful. As your fingers dance lightly down the body, you envision a young man on a stage in front of a large audience, all enraptured in his performance. The beautiful music that emerges breathes new life into the instrument, allows it to tell its colourful history. For what feels like the millionth time in only three days, you think of Taehyung.

Was he out there now? Waiting for you, getting discouraged as the sun sunk below the horizon, leaving insufficient light to read by? Or had he given up on you, stormed home angrily? Perhaps he was relieved you didn't show up. Perhaps he was showing another customer around Venice as you loitered here in your room. The more you think, you can't decide which outcome would be worse. Frowning, you retract your hand hastily from the cool metal of the saxophone. You feel strangely like you shouldn't be touching it. It's his.

You sigh as your instincts scream at you. Now that you're on your feet, they want to lead you out the door. It's okay that it's late; you know the way to Saint Mark's Square well. "Really?" you mutter to yourself. "He's probably not even there.... fuck."

Realistically, the moment your mind painted the idea that he might have expected you, the decision was already made. You shuck your robe impatiently and slip into a tank top and leggings, stepping into your flats before rushing out of the room.

The summer evening air is warm with the slightest shift of a breeze, and your eyes strain in the low light of the alleyways, a blue-black pooling of shadows on the cobblestone proving difficult to navigate, but you barely take notice. It's not until you're taking the last turn that leads out into the open square that you realise how stupid this is, though your heart has never thudded so hard in your chest. Your veins are electric with anticipation, holding back from breaking into a run.

There are a few food stalls and concession stands lit up with strings of white and yellow fairy lights, although they sit empty and locked up, and the reflection of the waxing moon gleams and pulsates in the shallow ripples of the Grand Canal. The slight improvement in visibility helps you locate the smaller dock a few metres down from the main one, the one Taehyung frequents, and your breath catches in your throat, heart sinking.

It's empty.

Of course he isn't there. It was a stupid idea, and you shouldn't have come. Still, you find yourself hopelessly walking closer, unable to stop until you reach the post he normally ties the gondola too, sitting down on it glumly. You let your eyes fall,  staring blankly into the glossy water as it laps at the side of the dock. There are small bubbles on the surface of the water, and it doesn't seem like those ripples are going to settle anytime soon. You frown. Wait a minute…

"Y/n?"

Your head snaps up in the direction of the voice, mouth falling open. Further ahead, the opposite direction from where he had taken you on those three tours, Taehyung's standing in his gondola, waving an arm to you. Your heart soars, and before you know it you're running, skipping over uneven stone as fast as you can to reach him. You keep your head up; something deep inside you wants to keep his face in your line of vision for fear of him disappearing again.

When you skid to a stop on the ground across from him with a relieved smile, you're panting slightly, and though you can barely make out his face in the dark of the night, you can tell he's been crying judging by the way the tracks down his cheeks are luminous in the light of the moon. "Taehyung?"

He reaches a foot out to rest on the edge of the square, the level difference meaning he has to bend at the knee, and holds the gondola still. "Where were you?" he asks bitterly, before sighing and shaking his head slowly. "No, don't answer that, it's none of my business. It's not like you have any reason to come back after yesterday." He sniffs, folds his arms over his knee and plants his chin on top. "...why are you here? Why now?"

You don't like standing so high over him, so you sink down to sit cross-legged on the cool stone. "You were waiting for me?"

Now that you're sitting, his face is on level with yours, and he's close enough that you can see the watery glimmer in his eyes and the way his hair sticks out oddly at the bottom, like he's been playing with it too much. "Well-" he falters, "technically I would've been out here anyway. This is my job, you know.”

You can sense his irritation, even as he tries to keep a neutral tone. “I didn’t know whether I should come,” you admit, “I thought you might not want me to.”

His head tilts to the side, eyes soft and voice softer. “Why wouldn’t I want you?”

Your breath catches at the underlying message in his words, and although the night is practically tropical, a smattering of goose bumps rise on your upper arms. “I… You ran away. I thought you must’ve, I don’t know…” Your tongue feels useless in your mouth as you struggle to explain yourself. “I figured you changed your mind, or didn’t like me. Never mind, it was stupid, I should probably go-”

As you go to stand up again a hand flies up and latches onto your wrist, halting you in a hunched-over position. You stare down at him in shock as his own eyes widen, like he’s surprised at his actions. “Y/n,” he says emphatically, “please, get in the gondola. I’ll explain everything, I promise. I just- Don’t go. Please.”

You pause for a moment then nod slowly, silent as his hand slides down your wrist to hold your hand instead, fingers linking.

“Can you get in by yourself?” Your repeated ventures on his gondola have gotten you somewhat used to the rocking of the boat as you get on, but it’s so dark that you can barely see where to put your feet, so you shake your head. As warm as it is, you don’t fancy an illegal dip in the canal.

He smiles broadly at your hesitance and gets up out of the gondola, reaching down to hold it still, before turning to you and snaking a strong arm around the small of your waist. You squeak in surprise as he promptly lifts you and dumps you into the boat, water sloshing around the sides, threatening to spill in.

“Taehyung!” you chastise, but before long he’s hopping on himself, creating much less of a disturbance in the water, and kicking off away from the edge to start rowing. You sit back against the stool so you can keep watching him, though you can’t make out the slightest detail in his face, and rub at your arms, willing away the raised bumps. Although you can’t see where he’s headed, you know it’s the opposite way from the tours you had been on before. “Where are we going?”

He looks down at you, and the levity in his voice hints at a smile. “It’s the end of the day and there are no more tourists wanting a ride. We’re going home.”

For someone who’s done nothing all day, you feel drained and tired, and so after a minute or two of silence, you gingerly slip off the stool and lie down on the floor in the middle of the boat, just enough room between the two stools for your shoulders to be brushing the gold corded strim on their bases. Taehyung makes an amused chuckle in the back of his throat when you lie down, but doesn’t comment.

Above you, the sky is an open expanse of blue-black, fringed with the tops of buildings on either side. A cottony string of cloud slides peacefully over the moon, a fat crescent high above you. Back home, there’s too much light pollution to make out more than a few bright stars, and they’re all spread out, lightyears away from each other. You used to look up at that sky and relate to those stars, burning bright but shining alone. Here in Venice, you can make out little clusters, tiny communities of glowing pinpricks. Just below the moon, two stars are side-by-side, one white, one glowing a little more yellow. The night sky is much nicer here, you decide.

“We’re here,” a husky voice calls out, and you sit up hastily, vision going fuzzy for a moment with the abrupt motion. It’s lighter here, where you’re stopped; the canal is so narrow that the single lamp sconce above a doorway is enough to light up the surrounding area.

As Taehyung docks the gondola, tying it to a conveniently located hook embedded in the brick beside the front door, you take a look around from the low vantage point you have. It looks like the canal equivalent of a driveway, old exposed brick on either side, with a blue-green line all the way down where the water level normally sat. His house sat right on the edge of the water, there being no standing room at all. It was a dead-end, so you figured this must consist as private property; honestly, you had totally zoned out watching the stars while he was going home, and you had no idea how far away from your hotel you were. “...am I staying here tonight?” you ask curiously.

“If you want to,” he replies without looking back at you, but you can see the defensive hunch of his shoulders as he reaches up to unlock the door, which is painted a deep green, and his voice is gentle. He’s still unsure.

“Of course I want to,” you reply, “I was just wondering… I don’t have any pyjamas with me, that’s all.”

The tension in his shoulders eases as he turns the key, and the glow of the lamp behind him frames his mussed-up hair in a halo. Your eyes widen as you finally notice that he’s no longer wearing the black beret he’d donned every other time you’ve seen him. A quick glance down around you shows it lying abandoned in the floor of the boat. You quirk a smile at the image of him tugging it off dramatically to cause his hair to be so messy, but it drops when you remember you’re the reason he would’ve been distressed enough to do that.

Taehyung, unaware of your mental turmoil, opens the door inwards and turns back to extend a hand to you. With one strong tug, you’re up out of the gondola and stumbling into the house, feet re-adjusting to solid ground.

His house is still warm from the evening sun that’s now far beyond the horizon, and when Taehyung flicks a light on in the small entryway, it floods the first floor with a soft yellow glow. The walls are wallpapered with a peeling sunflower pattern and the floor is a worn grey carpet, but already you can see the touches that make this home uniquely Taehyung’s; all along the walls hang framed pictures of him at varying ages with Jungkook and Jin, a coatrack in the corner to the left of the doorway holds a heavy beige overcoat as well as several berets in different shades in the same style as the one he incidentally had left outside in the bed of the gondola, and somewhere upstairs you can hear the muffled sound of French bohemian opera.

Taehyung takes notice of this as he shuts the door behind him. “Ah, I must’ve left that on again this morning,” he mutters under his breath, struggling to lock the door behind him with one hand.

It’s then that you notice he hasn’t let go of you, your fingers still tightly interwoven. You give him a little squeeze to remind him in case he wants to let go, but instead you see a flush rise on his cheeks and a shy smile play at his mouth as he squeezes back.

“Come on,” he announces softly, tugging at your hand slightly to get you moving, “I’ll make you a drink. Do you drink jasmine tea? It’s my favourite.”

You smother a smile at his comment, simply nodding happily and following him through a doorway to the right into a small kitchen. Of course he drank jasmine tea. You wouldn’t be surprised if he also meditated twice a day and sang to the birds every morning.

His kitchen is tiny; a low roof overhangs what consists of no more than the bare necessities: he has a refrigerator, a stove, a metal sink and some cupboards in the far corner, and a small round table with a single chair across from it on the other side of the room.

Your palm goes cold as he abruptly lets go of your hand, springing forward to grab the back of the chair and pull it out from the edge of the table, staring at you expectantly. “Please sit down,” he invites, and you accept gratefully, scooting the chair across the tiles to tuck yourself back in. “I’ll just put the kettle on. Sorry about the mess, I’m sure it’s not as fancy as you’re used to.”

You shake your head in mute protest, enjoying looking over the small quirks and details you can find around the place. As he opens an overhead cabinet for some mugs, you notice he has only three of them, as well as four plates, two bowls and five glasses. It’s clear that he’s been living alone for a while.

As your eyes skim over the room, the kettle quietly bubbling away, you ask curiously, “so how did you get this place? You grew up with Jin and his dad, didn’t you? Why not stay there with them?”

He places a bag of tea in each mug and turns around, holding a finger up at you before darting out of the room. You wait in bewilderment until he returns with a small piano stool, placing it on the other side of the table and perching on the edge. “Sorry, what was your question?”

You furrow your brows. “You have a piano?”

He tips his head to the side, eyes narrowing slightly in confusion. “Huh? Oh! You mean the stool. No, I picked this up at the second-hand store. Cheaper than a regular dining chair, can you believe it? I keep it in the cupboard in case I have a guest.”

You nod slowly, lip quirking. “My question was why you live here instead of still at the workshop in the squero.”

His eyes brighten and dart up and to the right as he thinks back in his memory. “Ah, that’s right. Same reason as anyone else, really. I grew up, wanted to feel independent. This house used to belong to an old friend of Jin’s, and so I got it for a good price when he moved away from the city. I know it’s not much, but...” An unconscious smile plays at his lips as he looks over the room. “It’s mine,” he finishes softly. Once he stops speaking, there’s a comfortable silence for a moment or two before the kettle boils, and he gets up to go pour the drinks.

“I like it,” you say once he returns with two steaming mugs. He tilts his head to the side. “The house,” you clarify, “I really like it. It’s very...you.”

He blushes, though maybe it’s from the hot steam wafting over his face as he breathes in the herbal scent. “Does that mean you like me?” he asks, avoiding eye contact.

You fiddle with the handle of your mug, suddenly feeling self-conscious and shy, like a schoolgirl with a crush. “Yeah. It does. I like you a lot, Taehyung.”

He inhales the aromatic steam of the tea deeply, a couple of breaths like he’s steeling himself, before he places it down timidly. His eyes dart up to yours, dancing over your face, your lips, before he looks back down again, taking one more deep breath.

You watch him, half-amused and half-spellbound at the way his uncertainty is spelled out on his face. Tea forgotten, you flick your tongue out to wet your lips, mouth dry all of a sudden, and silently wait in anticipation as his eyes glaze over as he internally wars with himself.

Finally, he looks up at you again, and you’re lost in those deep brown eyes. “Y/n,” he says in a husky tone, quieter than perhaps he was aiming for, “can I... I want to try something.”

You swallow thickly, nodding. “Okay.”

He blinks like a deer in headlights. “Okay, just- just stay there.”

You barely manage to suppress a smile at his comment, but you can feel your heartbeat thrumming in your ear and thumping in your chest in anticipation, eyes wide as he slides the stool noisily across the tiles, scooting around the table one juddering motion at a time, until his knees are bumping yours.

A hand hovers in the air in front of your face as Taehyung bites his lip. “Are you sure?”

The breath you’ve been unconsciously holding in this whole time comes rushing out. “Please just kiss me,” you beg in a whisper, eyes desperately gazing deep into his.

When his hand finally reaches your face, brushing lightly against the skin of your cheek, his fingers tremble. You lean into his touch, feeling the contact sear your skin, and he furrows his brows in focus as he slips his hand into your hair, cupping the back of your head.

Taehyung stares down at your lips again, nods once to himself, and moves forward, using his other hand on your knee to steady himself. Automatically, your eyes flutter shut and your lips part, waiting to receive that which you’ve been longing for. When soft, pillowy lips finally press themselves against yours, you shudder under him, eyes squeezing shut even more to fully drown yourself in sensation.

The kiss is slow, languid, but rich with passion, and you feel your upper half leaning forward instinctively to be closer to him. The hand in your hair curls up slightly, fingers tugging at the roots, and you whimper into his mouth.

As he moves against you, Taehyung tips his head to the side to deepen the kiss, and you feel his tongue dip out of his mouth to press at the seam of your lips. You drop your jaw slightly to let him in, and once you feel his teeth graze your bottom lip, tugging slightly before letting it pop back, you whimper again, breathing his name into the millimetres of air between you.

He makes a little grunt, deep in his throat, and then he’s pulling away from you. Your eyes crack open in a daze, just in time to see a string of saliva that connects the two of you break and land against his chin. Taehyung sucks his swollen bottom lip into his mouth, pupils blown wide.

It’s only once you try to speak that you realise just how heavily you’re panting. “Taehyung, I...”

He retracts his hand from your hair, brushing his thumb against your cheekbone fondly as he does so, and stands up in front of you. “Do you want to come upstairs?” he asks simply.

Your response comes immediately. “Yes.”

The two of you make your way to his room in a hushed silence, each creak of the old wooden stairs at the back of the building heightening your anticipation like a tangible cloud billowing in your stomach. The melodic opera from earlier, the one that you had completely tuned out until now, crescendos as you approach.

The landing has only two doors, both swung open to reveal a bathroom and a bedroom. Taehyung takes the second option and you follow him in, hovering hesitantly in the doorway.

You take a look around as he tidies up quickly, amused at the curious blend of items strewn all over. The music, which he turns down to fade out, comes from a bulky plastic stereo that sits on the floor. In fact, he has very minimal furniture in his room at all, giving it a chaotic feel that complements what it contains.

The walls are covered with posters and photos, a sea of famous composers, paintings, pages of music pinned to the wall beside his double bed. He has a short bookcase tucked between the bed and the wall, and on it is a tiny desk lamp, and a framed black-and-white photo of a beautiful young woman holding a small infant, the glass gleaming in the light from the ceiling bulb. Beside it, stacked up from the floor, is a haphazard pile of all the old books that don’t fit inside the bookcase itself.

You smile softly, moving around Taehyung as he rushes around in a crouch, picking up abandoned pieces of clothing and shoving them inside a laundry hamper by the door. You make your way across the room to look outside the window. It’s a relatively large circle, gilded on the edges, but it’s so dark outside that you’re forced to press your nose against the glass and frame your eyes with your cupped hands to see outside.

As your breath fogs up the glass below, you can make out a small cobblestone street out the back of Taehyung’s house. Most of it is residential, but one place a little ways down looks like a restaurant, with two or three tables out on the street. You squint, grateful for the small streetlamps down there, as you make out a couple sharing a meal of something, guiding spoonfuls into each other’s mouths. Instead of sitting across from each other, they sit side-by-side, the smaller body leaning into the larger one.

You jump when a fluttering pressure lands on your bare shoulder. You pull yourself away from the window, leaving smudge marks from your fingers and nose behind, and turn your head back to face Taehyung. A smile slides across your face automatically at the way he straightens up and looks down at you with eyes full of wonder. It makes you forget about everything outside this room, outside you and him. “I want you,” you confess without thinking.

His breath hitches and his brows lift just slightly, like he can’t believe it. His eyes trail over your face for a moment, searching. When he finds whatever he was looking for in the openness of your face, his eyebrows lift and he beams. “Come to bed.”

You follow him, but at the last minute he swivels out of the way and slips an arm around your back, laying you down on the duvet gently. Your skin feels alight, even the texture of the cotton on your elbows as you scoot up to rest your head in the middle of the pillows feels electric.

He smiles to himself with a blush, gesturing for you to lift your head up, and you do so, observing him as he hastily shuffles the pillows aside so that you can lie back on one properly, instead of the gap between them. Your head falls back, far more comfortable, and you lift your hands up, making grabby motions at him.

The gorgeous man laughs softly, but obeys your unspoken command by lifting a leg up and over you, balancing himself on his knees and leaning down, brushing some stray strands of hair off your face before tenderly pressing a kiss on your lips, his forearm on the pillow beside you propping him up.

Your eyes slip shut naturally, and you allow yourself to be overtaken by the feeling of his lips on yours, his fingers playing with the ends of your hair, and the heat of his body hovering over you. When his free hand comes up to hold on to your chin lightly, thumb pressing down to lower your jaw, you clutch at his shirt, balling the fabric by his shoulders, needing an anchor. You let him take control, his sensual yet insistent tongue playing against yours as you gasp out and hook a leg up and around his waist, trying to bring him closer.

He acquiesces with a grin that you feel against your lips, and once his body is pressed flush against you, you let out a soft moan, letting go of his shirt to grasp his face instead, head lifting off the pillow to drown in him even more.

His deft fingers curl around your wrist, squeezing slightly, pulling it away before swapping to do the same with your other wrist. You pout, blinking up at him with eyes sleepy with lust when he pulls away from your lips with an audible pop.

His pupils are dilated, and his breath is coming in shallow pants. “Do you want me to turn the light off?”

You shake your head quickly. “I want to see you.”

A relieved sigh. “Good, me too. You’re so beautiful.”

Your cheeks go pink, breath catching in your throat when he comes down again, but this time his kisses land on the warm skin over your cheekbones, the left then the right. With your eyes squeezed shut and lips parted in wonder, you feel him on the top of your forehead, then on your nose, in an intimate recreation of that day on the docks. “Taehyung,” you breathe, lost in him.

When he pulls back, leaving four spots on your face burning, your eyes struggle to blink open again. He looks slightly pained, a calloused thumb rubbing lightly over your swollen lips. “You have no idea, do you?” he questions, eyes focused on the way your lips spring back when he lets them go. “How crazy I am about you?” When he sighs, you feel it warm your skin, that’s how close he holds himself. “Yesterday was a busy day. Three different tour groups came in, all wanting gondola rides. There were even a few Koreans among them. I got asked for a trip countless times. I could’ve made a fortune.”

Your brows furrow, seeing where he’s going with this. “Taehyung,” you repeat morosely, unsure what else you could say.

“I turned them all down,” he admits flatly, a hint of self-deprecation in his voice, “because I couldn’t stand the thought of you coming down and me not being there.” His fingers leave your lips, resting against your cheek instead. His eyes dart up to meet yours finally, and you note with surprise that they’re glassy. “And then you never came.”

“I’m so sorry. I- I was stupid. But I’m here now.”

The tears fade as fast as they arrived, and you’re glad he didn’t start crying, but his eyes still droop in sorrow. “Are you? I’m so scared that I’ll wake up tomorrow and this will have all been a dream.” He leans down again, burying his face against the sensitive skin of your neck. You gasp as he kisses and suckles at your pulse point. “You feel like a dream,” he murmurs against you, and the vibrations of his voice lights up your nerve endings, electricity shooting up your spine.

“I’m real,” you assure him, “can’t you feel how fast my heart is racing for you right now?”

His breath escapes him in a shudder, but he doesn’t reply, instead sitting up slightly. You watch him as he reaches for one of your hands, and brings it up to his face, pressing a delicate kiss on each fingertip. Methodically, with his eyes closed dreamily, he makes his way up the delicate skin of your inner arm, leaving behind red patches and streaks of moisture. Every gentle flick of the tip of his tongue, every scrape of his teeth, has a fire gradually building between your legs, and you squeeze your thighs together, whimpering impatiently by the time he reaches your shoulder.

He chuckles against your skin, gazing sultrily up at you through dark eyelashes. “Be patient, angel, I want to take my time with you.”

Your chest heaves and you bite your lip as he sits up, lets your arm fall gently to the bed, only to pick up your other hand and begin again. It feels like an eternity of sensation, a slow pilgrimage from your fingertips to your collarbone, and when you manage to control your quickening breaths, you can both hear and feel him mumbling against your skin as he laves at the crook of your neck.

You head tips to the side to give him more room, the ball of your foot digging into his behind more firmly as you shift your pelvis under him, desperate for friction. “Taehyung, please,” you beg, “I need you.”

He places one final kiss to the area he was paying attention to, rubbing it with his thumb to observe the wash of colour blooming on your skin with a smile. “I want you too,” he assures you, “I’ve been thinking about this all the time since the moment I saw you.”

Your eyes plead with him. “Then take me. I’m yours.” Your hands grasp at the hem of your tank top, crossing over with the intent of whipping it off urgently, but Taehyung shushes you, stopping your undressing, holding your wrists firmly above your head with one hand as he bent down and played with the edge of the fabric with his other.

You swallow hard and arch your back into his touch as the sensitive skin of your stomach is brushed by the backs of his knuckles. You rub your thighs together again. “Come on,” you whine hopelessly, turning your face to bury it against the soft flesh of your upper arm, fingers curling in the air to try and reach his hand where he’s holding you down. “Haven’t you teased me enough?”

He lets out a deep exhale and lies flat against your lower half, rubbing his nose against your hipbone, feeling you trembling under him. “I’m not teasing,” he defends emphatically, licking at the skin, pinching it just slightly between his teeth. “I’m worshipping every inch of you like you deserve.” A warm palm slides under the fabric and runs up to stretch out across the top of your stomach, holding you flat against the bed. “God, you’re perfect.”

Your cheeks are hot against the skin of your arm, and you sigh in resignation, torn between thriving off the praise, and wanting, needing, more. You lift up your head to look down at him, and feel yourself dampen even more. “Fuck, Taehyung.” Your shirt is tented where his hand spans almost your entire front, rucked up slightly to reveal the soft skin of your stomach, where he lays sloppy yet intentional kisses upwards, eyes lidded and heavy with lust as they stare up at you. You bite your lip and push at the hand keeping your wrists locked together, wanting nothing more than to reach down and card your fingers through his ruffled brown hair, but he just grins at your effort, not budging at all.

He pushes your top up further and further on his languid journey upwards, until it’s bunched up over the top of your breasts, exposing your bra.

It’s just a plain cotton one with minimal padding, the kind you wore on lazy days, but the way he’s staring down at your chest in wonder stops you from feeling self-conscious. With your hands still tucked above your head, you wordlessly arch your chest up at him, trying to make contact with the hand that hovers just above you. When the fabric brushes his fingertips, he sighs out heavily and follows you down, resting his palm gently across one of your mounds.

Nervously, his eyes dart up to you and then back down, and you grin when you work out what’s giving him pause. “Don’t know how to open it with one hand, do you?” you tease. “If only my hands were free, I could take it off for you.”

He sits back further, pressure increasing on your upper legs, the arm above your head stretching out straight. “I’m gonna let go of your wrists now,” he announces in a raspy voice, “keep them above your head, okay? Be a good girl.”

When he does let go of them to grab onto the pile of tank top around the top of your breasts, you’re too shocked to move, letting him tug the top over your head and limp arms, before tossing it away into the corner of the room.

Before his hands tuck behind your back to find the bra clasp, he lets his eyes and hands roam your torso freely, the warmth of his palms on your skin making your fingers curl into fists with the restraint not to touch him.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you lift up at the spine to grant him access to your back. He fiddles with it for a few moments gently, before hunkering down, eyes scrunched closed in concentration, but even his jerkier movements don’t free the hooks from their clasps behind you. Eventually, he huffs and opens his eyes again, looking down at you with a sheepish smile that you can’t help but return. “Would you mind taking your bra off for me? It’s, uh… it’s been a while.”

You nod but gesture for him to scoot up a bit as if you need more room, but once he does you quickly slip your legs out from between his knees and sit up, throwing a leg over his lap and pushing his chest back.

Although he could no doubt overpower you, he lets you have your way, lying back against the sheets, hair splayed out around him like a halo. The bed is just long enough that his head doesn’t fall off the far end, but you twist around to grab a pillow for him first, grinning cheekily as you repeat his earlier actions, letting him lie more comfortably. At his curious gaze, you pout at him playfully. “I can be chivalrous too, you know.”

“I’m sure.” Once you’re straddling him, Taehyung’s hands find your hips, still clad in leggings that you wish were off already, but you don’t want to give up your momentary position of power, so you reach behind you and deftly unsnap the bra, letting it fall slowly down your arms before flinging it away.

Taehyung’s eyes dilate even more, locked onto your nipples which are already standing at full attention from the excitement of his earlier ministrations. “So perfect,” he mutters to himself before a hand slides up your side and cups your breast, forefinger dancing lightly over your nipple as he splays out over it.

You gasp at the sudden sensation and curl inwards, chest coming down closer to him. “Please, more,” you plead breathlessly.

He hums in amusement, flicking the bud teasingly as you shudder, hands clutching at his shirt. “Does it feel good? God, look at you, so responsive, so sensitive for me.”

You bite your lip and rock your pelvis against him, feeling his hardness beneath you. You don’t know how he has the restraint to spend so much time cherishing your body when he’s clearly ready to take you, and at this point you honestly couldn’t say if you wished he would hurry up or take his time.

A choked cry is pulled from your throat as he kneads that breast, and, while you’re distracted, tightly pinches the other nipple with his other hand, immediately letting go and soothing the delicate flesh with his thumb.

You’re sure at this point you must be soaking through your leggings, and you grind again, but are halted by Taehyung tutting at you. “Stop that,” he warns, “if I cum now you won’t get to feel me in that pretty pussy of yours.”

A jolt pierces through you at his filthy words, but you can’t help from grinning slyly down at him. “You wouldn’t know if my pussy is pretty or not, you haven’t even seen it yet.”

He rolls both nipples under his thumbs and forefingers simultaneously, and you keen over into the contact, barely holding yourself up on his chest. “Patience,” he reminds you simply, humour lacing his tone as he watches you fall apart on top of him. “Now c’mere.” With a sudden single movement, he sits up and wraps his arms around your back, holding you flush against him to keep you steady. You’re now sat on his lap, legs wide over his crotch as he sits in the middle of the bed.

His arms stretch out just enough so that you lean back slightly in his secure hold, and before you can process it, a wet heat closes around on your left nipple. You cry out and go lax against him, falling back over his arm as you desperately grab at his broad shoulders for support.

Unlike the way he manhandled you into position, the way he worships your nipple with his mouth is sensual and dedicated, sparing no effort as he laps his tongue over it. You let your eyes fall closed and try to steady your breathing, losing your mind. You can feel every suck, flick and nibble like the sensations have been magnified, and although he scolded you for it before, you can’t help but wriggle your hips, longing for some friction between your legs.

He lets go of your left nipple with a wet pop, groans breathily, and moves promptly over to envelop your right one, triggering another throaty cry from you. Distantly, you realize you’ve been chanting his name under your breath between whimpers, a hot coil in your stomach tightening as you tremble beneath him.

A particularly harsh tug of your stiff peak between his teeth has you locking up, arms flying around his neck to hold yourself tight against him as a sudden orgasm takes a hold. Your toes curl up and you rock yourself over his crotch to heighten the feeling, moaning nonsensically as he continues to stimulate the nerve endings in your nipple, switching back to the left as you come down from your high and shy away from the overwhelming sensation.

Once he breaks away and sits upright, he looks at you in awe, lips slick and swollen. “Did you just cum from that?”

You pant, a lazy dopamine-induced smile spreading across your face. “Yeah,” you make out through shallow breaths, “you were taking too long to fuck me so I thought I should just go ahead myself.”

“Is that so?” he questions, a teasing smile playing at his lips. “I suppose now that you’ve got what you wanted, you won’t be so impatient anymore. Lie back.”

You lick your lips and do as he asked, the arms behind you lowering you slowly until you return to the soft sheets, looking up at him. Secretly, you’re glad he suggests the change of position, as your legs feel wobbly with the surprising intensity of your orgasm. “Taehyung…”

“Mm?”

Your hands fiddle with his shirt. “Let me see you.”

Suddenly, a blush is rising on his cheeks again, but he sits back and reaches a hand behind him, tugging the shirt off by the neck quickly and without ceremony.

You feel your mouth watering at the sight of him. Unsurprisingly, his arms and shoulders are corded muscle, streamlined from using the oar in the water, but what you aren’t expecting is the contrast of a buff chest and soft stomach. With the way he’s holding his arms over it, it makes him self-conscious, but it just makes him that much cuter to you. “You’re gorgeous, Taehyung,” you tell him genuinely, reaching out to run a hand over his pecs, then sliding down to brush your knuckles against his tummy as you fiddle with his waistband. “Every part of you.”

His eyes grow warm and he leans back in for another soft kiss, claiming your mouth quickly yet deeply, a kiss that speaks of comfort and urgency. He looks over you as your eyes flutter and struggle to focus on him. After waiting for you to recover again, he rubs your jawline with his thumb. “Are you still sure about this? If it’s too soon, we can-”

“Please, Taehyung,” you beg, “no more foreplay, I need you now.”

His eyebrows furrow. “Can’t I…?” You suck in a breath when his hand slips between your legs, pressing up through the two layers of fabric that separate him from your heat.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips, but you shake your head. “Next time. Please.”

That does it. His cheeks go pink and his eyes crinkle at your words, before he’s standing up to shuck his pants off and kick them away, hopping back on the bed to reach for yours.

You lift your hips off the bed to help him pull your leggings down with your panties, sucking in a breath as his hands pass over the curve of your ass and down your legs, his sense of need finally helping him pick up the pace.

Your legs fall open and your mouth goes dry with anticipation watching his dick shift in his underwear, straining at the fabric with a darker wet patch amongst the light grey. If you weren’t so desperate to feel him inside you, you’d be on your knees already.

Once you finally get the fabric off your ankles and away from you, you’re ready for Taehyung to lie over you again, but instead he grabs one of your ankles and tosses it over the side of the bed, spreading you wide open before his head ducks down and he licks a rough swipe up through your folds, collecting your wetness on his tongue. You cry out and jerk in surprise, but he’s already leaning back, pushing his tongue around his mouth like he’s savouring your taste, eyes closed blissfully.

“Next time,” he repeats dreamily to himself, before he reaches down to the waistband of his underwear, slipping it down slowly. Your breath catches in anticipation when you see the dark tuft of hair, before sucking in a quiet gasp when the underwear comes fully down, letting his erection jump out, bobbing in the air. Fuck. He’s huge.

Your leg is still haphazardly hanging off the edge of the bed, and you have no time to react before his hand is coming down between your legs to rub his flat palm against you, slicking it up before he begins pumping himself, sighing in relief at the friction.

That brief contact you had gotten against your clit when he was rubbing against you has you desperate for more, and you whisper his name in a plea for more. Taehyung looks down at you, biting his lip as he jerks off. “Condom?” he asks, and you pause for a second before shaking your head. “I’m clean, and I hope you are too, but if we don’t use one you could get knocked up, Y/n.” You stay silent, simply widening your legs in front of him. He swears lowly and gets up, getting on top of you, propping himself up by a forearm so that he’s close enough to kiss you.

His breath warms the skin of your face as he looks down and focus on lining himself up with his other hand. You bite your lip and let out a moan when you feel his head slipping between your folds and pressing against your entrance. He checks in with you one last time before the pressure increases, and then your head is tipping back weakly as the blunt head of his cock stretches your opening.

“God, you’re soaked,” he muses, “n’ so warm for me.”

With no preparation, it’s on the verge of being too big a stretch, and your eyes squeeze shut, focusing on relaxing around the intrusion. “Fuck, Taehyung…”

“Too much?” he checks, going still, though his upper arms tremble as he holds himself above you.

You shake your head. “Just go slow.”

Taehyung nods and begins to move again, stopping every inch or so to let you adjust. The feeling of him splitting you open is divine, and by the time you feel his hips flush against you, you’re panting underneath him.

He pauses there, bending down to plant light kisses all over your face until you can’t help but giggle at the ticklish touches. He stops with one last kiss on your lips, murmuring against them quietly. “How are you doing? Okay?”

With a hand pressing down on your lower abdomen, you rock your pelvis experimentally and give out a strangled moan when you feel him shift inside you. “So full,” you admit, slowly accommodating to the feeling, already wanting more.

Taehyung takes your lips once more before raising himself up a little higher for better leverage and control. He tries to pull out slowly, eyebrows furrowed tightly and mouth open as he feels you clenching around him. “Y/n,” he chants, “you fit perfectly around me, feels so good.” With that, he begins to thrust into you, a slow drag back and forth since you’re currently too tight for anything faster.

“Oh god,” you breathe quietly. Taehyung’s head falls down onto his shoulder and you can feel how hot his cheeks are. He mumbles something but you can’t make it out. “What did you say?”

“Louder,” he admits reluctantly, nose nuzzling the crook of your shoulder. “I want you to be louder. I want to hear you.”

You sigh and wrap your arms around him, holding him close. “Then make me.”

He groans at your words, but you feel the muscles in his back tense up as he starts to fuck into you with more vigour, drawing out a garbled moan with every stroke as he presses up against your g-spot.

Although he asked for you to be louder, he himself is surprisingly noisy for a guy. You can hear through his grunts and pants the effort he’s expending, and underneath it all is a low whine that comes out every time you clench involuntarily around him. You’re dripping so much that you can hear the wet smacks fill the small room, and that trio of sounds is all that is heard as you feel yourself approaching that edge again.

“Nng, Taehyung, right there, oh please, more, I need more,” your mouth goes without you even being aware of the words tumbling out, and although you try to keep your eyes open to watch his face change as he’s overcome with pleasure, a particularly hard thrust has your eyes rolling back in your head. “Fu-uck.”

“Good?” he asks, and you nod with as much energy as you have left, crying out when you feel a rough thumb massaging your clit. “Can you come for me, angel?”

“Y- So close, oh god,” your hips start canting up to meet his every thrust, making him swear under his breath.

“Me too,” he confesses, “I’m gonna need to pull out soon.”

“Come inside,” you plead immediately, “come inside me.”

“Fuck,” he groans, and you swear the force of his thrusts increase, “you want me to fill you up, hm?”

You whine hopelessly, taken aback by how he gets filthier the closer to orgasm he gets. “Please, Taehyung.”

“Look at you,” he pants, carding a hand fondly through your sweaty hair, chuckling breathlessly when you nuzzle into it, “so desperate for me. Shit, I’m almost there.”

He stops speaking to put all his effort into fucking you, maintaining the punishing rhythm on your clit, and suddenly you’re convulsing under him, propelled without warning into an even stronger orgasm than before.

Taehyung growls and his thrusts falter, off-beat but with as much force as he can muster, and soon enough he’s falling over the edge too, chest collapsing on top of you.

You smile blissfully. “That was amazing.” After a moment you get no reply, and you laugh quietly. “Taehyung?”

“I love you, Y/n,” he pants into your shoulder, sighing happily.

You freeze, even as your pussy still contracts with aftershocks from your orgasm. Your head turns quickly to look down at him, but you see him, face peaceful, eyes closed, already falling asleep.

His head rises and falls with your breathing as it slowly evens out, but even as he slumbers, you lie on your back with a sticky mess slowly drying between your legs, wide awake.

--

It’s not even six in the morning when the sun rises and pierces you right in the eyes, but it doesn’t wake you up. You never slept.

The whole night, as you stayed completely still while Taehyung nuzzled your shoulder in his sleep and cuddled into you, your mind was tossing and turning.

You wanted to leave, a fight or flight instinct had kicked in the second he said those three words, but somehow amongst your own personal dilemma, you couldn't bear to upset him. So here you were, neck cramping slightly, wincing at the glare of the sun through that circular window, wishing you were anywhere else.

Maybe he wouldn't remember it, you figured. You could always play ignorant, like you had never even heard, but if you did that you'd never know if he meant it or was just saying it in the heat of the moment. Surely he didn't love you already; you'd only met him four days ago.

But at the end of the day, it wasn't really what he said that was the main problem.

It was the fact that you were... beginning to feel the same. And yet you had a flight out of here in ten days, and started work the following Monday.

At some point in the night, you had started to cry silently, thinking of your life back home. It was nothing like this world here. You had an expensive, tiny apartment in a high-end area, although you spent more time in your office than you did at home, working the hours away until the dull throb behind your eyes became too much to handle.

Until you had come here, it felt like you were simply putting in the elbow grease you had to to survive. But now the thought of working in that environment felt suffocating and meaningless.

You had to leave, but you didn't want to go. Four days here, and you already had more reasons to stay than you did to return.

A throaty hum breaks you out of your thoughts, and you feel Taehyung's grip tighten on you, before it goes lax again. You hold your breath.

"You stayed," he remarks in a gravelly voice, full of wonder, and your heart breaks all over again.

"Taehyung, I- I have to go."

He straightens up suddenly, pulling the blankets back with him, and you wince at the cold air on your naked body. "Why? Do you need to get back to your hotel?" His face falls, and he cards a hand through his hair to settle the bedhead nest it was in. "I was going to make you some breakfast. Can't you stay for a little while?"

You look down, body missing his warmth already by the way goosebumps spring up on your arms and thighs. "It's... It's not about that. I can't do this, Taehyung. I'm sorry."

"Do this?" You bite your lip hard, needing the pain as recompense for the way his eyes run over you morosely. Taehyung runs a hand over his face, pinching his brow. "I don't understand what you mean. If you didn't want to, you should've told me before we..." He breaks off and sighs heavily.

You glance around the room, looking for your clothes that are strewn across the hardwood floor, trying to ignore the defeated slump of his shoulders in your peripheral. "I'm sorry, Taehyung. I had fun, but I don't think-"

"Fun?" he asks incredulously, and you snap your head back to him in shock at his sudden volume. "This was all a bit of fun for you?"

You shake your head. "That's not what I-"

"Forget it," he interrupts bitterly. "Maybe in the city you're used to one night stands and meaningless sex, but you should've known that for me it means a lot more. It meant a lot more."

Your lip trembles, but you remain silent.

He sighs again, resigned. "I think you should leave." Without looking at you, he stands up, collects his clothes, and hovers at the doorway, head turned aside. "Don't bother locking the door on your way out. It's not like a poor man like me has anything worth stealing anyway."

You're left sitting on the bed, feeling, for the first time since you arrived here in Venice, truly alone.

--

Days pass. He must've found a different spot to dock up. Perhaps he's stopped coming at all. You know this because several times a day, often more times than you can count on one hand, you find yourself back at Saint Mark's Square, wandering around the edge of the canal, looking for him.

You spend a week filled with regret, moping around the streets and canals of Venice in a melancholic haze. Getting in a Vaporetto and staying on until the end of the line only to get one to come all the way back becomes a ritual. You crave being able to zone out and take a break from reality, even if it doesn't last as long as you wish.

For the most part, you avoid your hotel room. You feel sick breathing in the scent of expensive perfumed flowers, hate seeing that battered saxophone case still resting smugly on the desktop.

Foolishly, after a day or two, you miss him so badly that you start to seek out the workshop he took you to, in the hopes that he might be there. However, when you had gone on that gondola ride, you were so moony-eyed over him that you had completely failed to pay attention to where you were going at all, and now you had to hopelessly roam the streets, trying to recognise a doorway, a cafe, anything that would point you in the right direction.

By day four, you begin to get desperate. You'd had enough time to yourself to think things through. You knew you had royally screwed up that conversation with Taehyung. You wished more than anything that you could go back and do it over, but instead you had to focus on the future.

It was becoming more and more apparent, as your heels got blisters and your thighs rubbed themselves raw, that Taehyung wasn't just a crush or a fling. He was right. That night you shared had meant something. At the time, you were scared. You still were. But Taehyung's confession had scared you so much then because you couldn't bear the thought of growing closer to him, of falling for him like he's falling for you and then getting on a plane and leaving him behind.

Now, you were scared because you knew what you had to do.

It began with calling your landlord back home, and your boss at work. You would have to go back home for at least a month to fill out your required resignation notice, and probably a bit more time beyond that to get your finances and belongings in order, but the more details you sorted, the more a blooming flicker of hope lit up inside you.

You even went into an internet cafe on the south side of town, logging into a computer and researching everything; real estate in Venice, visas, attaining residency. Perhaps it was a big change, maybe even one you weren't really thinking through, but every day without seeing Taehyung felt like weight crushing your chest, and you knew that it was too late for you.

You were in love with him.

Still, as your days here drew to a close, and you felt like you had explored all of Venice with no luck, you didn't know what to do. You stop outside a busy main street, sighing in defeat. You had seen this street a million times before. With the limitations of the canals, there were some places you couldn't go without a private water vehicle, and so it seemed you were just wandering in cir-

"Ow, shit, sorry!"

You stumble as a hard force knocks you over, barely getting your feet under you to remain standing. "Ah, it's o.... Jungkook?"

"Do I know you?" He's breathing a little heavily, like he's been running, and he's holding two brown paper bags to his chest. His pout of confusion opens to a little 'o' when his eyes light up. "Uptown girl! I remember you. How are you...oh, not good, right? I heard what happened."

This is your chance. You don't have time for small talk. "Jungkook, I need to speak to him."

He purses his lips to the side, shifting the heavy groceries in his grip. "I don't know... I don't think he wants to see you."

"I know he might be a bit hurt at the moment, but I-"

"No, you don't understand." Jungkook crinkles his brow. "I don't think he wants to see you ever again."

Your heart crumbles in your chest. With wide eyes, you blink at the young boy pleadingly. "I need to explain some things to him. I didn't have time to tell him before, but I... I need him to know. Please, Jungkook."

But the boy just shakes his head mournfully, ducking it to avoid your imploring gaze. "Jin-hyung would never forgive me. I can't betray Taehyung's trust like that. Well... It was nice to see you, for what it's worth. Have a good day."

He pushes past you again, and without thinking, you whirl around and grab onto his shirt sleeve. "Jungkook! Please, if I can't see him, at least pass on a message for me. Tell him I fly back home in two days. If he's willing to forgive me, or even just to speak with me, it needs to be before then. I'll wait at the docks every night until I have to go. And tell him I-" I love him. "...that's all. Just tell him that. Please."

Jungkook shrugs out of your grip, wriggles his shoulder to try and break up the wrinkles in the fabric your fingers created, and nods at you once, before turning tail and scurrying away.

You watch as he reaches the docks towards the end of the main street, and passes the bags down into a gondola, one that looked larger than Taehyung's. In the bed is a man with broad shoulders, one you recognise as the other workshop carpenter, who puts them at his feet. As Jungkook gets in, he speaks solemnly with the elder and points back down the street to where you are.

You swallow hard as Jin looks up at you and narrows his eyebrows. His gaze stays heavy on you until you look down, turning to leave.

--

He doesn't come Wednesday night. He doesn't come Thursday night.

You stay there each time until almost three in the morning, until your eyes feel so heavy that you can't guarantee you won't fall asleep on the dock. Both nights, your only company is that saxophone case. You bring it, hoping it might act as an apology gift, but instead it serves more as a pillow to prop your head on when you sit cross-legged on the damp wood, watching the natural lull of the water lap at the algae on the posts hour after hour.

Friday morning you pack up your belongings from your hotel room and finalise your plans. If he doesn't show, which you are beginning to believe he won't, you'll go and never come back. Maybe you'll still change jobs, who knows, but you know that you can't bear to be here if it's not by his side.

On your way back out to the docks, the hotelier calls you over in the lobby. She's concerned for you; through her broken English, she questions why you come in so late. You don't have a good reason. She produces a printout of a weather report, trying to explain what some of the terms mean in English, but you can't understand her, and in the end you make an excuse and leave.

Since it's your last day, you want to be sure you won't miss him, and so instead of returning to that small, abandoned dock just after dinner, you order some street food and eat lunch there, just you and the saxophone case.

There aren't many tourists around today. It's balmy out, more humid than normal and perhaps the heavy blanket of clouds above have scared some of them away. You enjoy the quiet, however; you've grown accustomed to the bubble you live in while here, feeling a million miles away from anyone else in the world.

You first notice the rain when you see spots of grey on your white blouse. It doesn't bother you then, although it's not ideal considering this shirt is dry clean only.

By four in the afternoon, it's dark enough to be evening with how thick and low the stormy clouds hang, and you're the only one in Saint Mark's Square. You frown, regret not trying to communicate better with the hotelier, and curl yourself around the black instrument case.

The rain sets in not too long after.

Hot blasts of bucketing rain pellet you, slapping against the old wood dock and stone courtyard noisily, foaming at the once-placid water of the canal. Your hair is sopping wet, you fear that water might be slipping through the cracks of the case, and you're soaked to the skin, but still, you remain.

Thanking your lucky stars it's not windy or cold, you duck your head down and squeeze your eyes shut, legs and arms wrapped around the case to try and protect it with your body. You're so focussed on keeping yourself steady, that you don't notice the water level rising until it starts pooling up around you.

You lift your head up, rainwater pelting down your face and stinging your eyes, and watch in wonder as the canal overflows. Soon enough, you're submerged to the top of your waist, and the water is beginning to spread over the main square.

The water from the canal is cooler, and you begin to shiver. Looking down at the black case, you know there's no way the water hasn't seeped in through the hinges and flooded the instrument, and, after almost eight hours of sitting at the docks, you begin to sob.

It starts out as a frustrated cry, annoyed that your money had essentially gone down the drain, potentially ruining the instrument for all you knew about saxophones. The rain flooded the tears away before you could feel it track down your face, but once the dam broke, you found yourself heaving, weeping noisily and hopelessly, for everything that had gone downhill in the past week or so. For how stupid you had been. For letting yourself fall in love only to lose him.

Although you could barely make out its muted glow from behind a cloud, you could tell when the sun went down by the way the square is plunged into a gloomy darkness. As the canal overspills onto the square, you feel yourself lift off the dock, the water pulling you along, and you know it's time to move further inland.

You stand up with wobbly legs, doing your best to keep a grip on the slippery handle of the case, and hold onto the posts for support as you slosh through the water. Your clothes are heavy and waterlogged, and you wouldn't be surprised if you woke up tomorrow morning with a cold in the middle of summer. "Fuck!" you scream angrily into the stormy heavens, feeling a desperate rage take over. "Give me a chance, Taehyung! Where are you?!"

"What are you doing, Y/n?"

You let out a strangled cry and whirl around. "Taehyung?" He struggles to row against the tide, face tensed up with effort, but you've never been so relieved to see anyone in your life. "You came!"

You splash your way back recklessly to the end of the dock to meet him, and he finally reaches out and latches onto the end post with all his strength, holding the gondola still in the chaos of the storm. He's equally soaked through, and he pushes his dripping hair out of his face as he looks up at you. "Get in," he yells over the crashing of the rain.

Your lip trembles, and you feel the tears spring to your eyes again. "Taehyung, I'm so sorry."

"Get in," he insists, "unless you want to catch your death out here."

Your entry into the gondola isn't nearly as graceful as your others, but the moment you collapse onto the waterlogged sofa, he pushes off from the dock with a grunt and begins the hard trudge back the way he came. You only barely recognise the way back to his house, unable to see much through the thick sheets of pouring rain, but he seems to navigate the way just fine, rowing in staunch silence.

You hold the saxophone case to your chest the whole way back, and when he finally reaches home and moors the gondola, he looks down at you with a frown, before opening his front door, getting in, and shutting it loudly behind him.

You sniffle, shivering slightly, unsure if you're meant to follow, but with the way the boat is filling up with rainwater, there's not really any other option. You stand up shakily, open the door and bundle yourself inside, collapsing on the cold tile of the entryway and kicking the door shut behind you, panting.

The saxophone case clatters to the ground noisily, and he kicks at it lightly. "What's this?" he asks in a gruff voice, ignoring the way water pools at his feet as it drips off of him.

You wipe your face with the back of your hand, though it doesn't do much. "A saxophone," you say through shallow breaths, "for you."

He furrows his brows. "You went out and bought me a saxophone right before you were due to leave the city? Were you that convinced I was going to show up?"

You sigh, bones heavy, feeling the exhaustion of the past few days hit you. "No," you admit. "I bought it after that day in the workshop. When you said you used to play but couldn't afford a new saxophone."

He sighs, turns and makes his way upstairs as he replies. You scramble to your feet and follow him up the stairs. "So you thought I wanted a sugar daddy, huh? Poor old Taehyung." He scoffs bitterly, though his shoulders hang low in hurt. "It'll be ruined now, anyway."

The two of you reach his room, and you avert your eyes awkwardly as he peels off his wet shirt and pants. He leaves to go to the bathroom, and you raise your voice to be heard over the crashing of rain on the roof. "I'm so sorry, Taehyung. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Well, you did," he states plainly, returning with two towels. He throws one at your chest, and begins to dry off his hair with the other. "I wasn't going to come down, you know. In the end, I was just worried that you'd be stupid enough to stay out there during a flood. Guess I was right."

You duck your head, following his lead by stripping out of your wet clothes, leaving on a soaked bra and underwear and wrapping yourself in the bath towel. "Please just let me explain myself," you plead emphatically, "I'm here now. Surely you can give me that much."

He casts his eyes to the ceiling, and you think you catch a glimmer of tears pooling in them. "Fine, go ahead."

You let out a relieved breath you didn't realise you were holding. "Thank you. Listen, that morning... I was scared. I've never been in love before, and here I am, falling for a man who lives in a completely different country. I couldn't help but think how much worse it would be if we spent this past week together, only for me to leave anyway. I thought that it would be better to protect ourselves from that heartbreak. But I was wrong. I knew it the moment you left, but it was too late."

He sits down on the edge of his bed with a tired sigh. "Jungkook said you fly out tomorrow." His voice is flat with resignation, but not as glum as before. "Why are you saying all this if you're still leaving?"

"...because I love you, Taehyung," you admit quietly, and he glances up at you in shock. "And I've realised that I don't want to go back to my old life for good. I... I've made some calls. I have to go back to sort some things out, but... I could come back here. I could move here." You take the chance to step forward, approaching him slowly until you're standing directly in front of him. "I want to. But only if you're with me. If you really can't forgive me, I'll leave and never come back. Just don't think for a second that I don't love you like you love me. I've never felt this way about anyone before."

Taehyung swallows hard, still not looking at you.

You feel your heart sink. "Please say something."

He breathes out slowly, shoulders dropping. "You mean it?" he asks lowly. "You'll come back?"

"Of course I will," you rush out, dropping to your knees so that you can look him in the eyes. Even as his face is pained, his eyes are bright with hope. "I promise you, Kim Taehyung. If I could, I would never leave in the first place. And don't worry, I've looked into renting a place here when I arrive, so you don't have to-"

"No," he croaks out suddenly, "stay. Stay with me." You lift your hand up to cup his cheek, and he turns his face, kissing your palm. "How long will you be gone for?"

"A month and a half, maybe two."

His hand comes up to clutch at yours, holding it against his cheek. When he blinks balefully down at you, a tear spills over and spatters on his bare knee. "I don't want you to leave me again. I know it's selfish, but..."

You knit your brows in sympathy, sitting up to press a kiss on his lips gently, watching the way his eyes flutter shut. "We still have tonight."

He exhales with a shudder and nods. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, and when he opens them again, he’s looking down at you with a vulnerability in his eyes you haven’t seen before. Sensing there are no more words that need to be said, he bends down and joins your lips together again.

You feel your breath hitch at the sudden intensity in his kiss. Last time was all shy and gentle, but now it seems like Taehyung’s fired by raw need. It’s no less meaningful, however; you can still feel how his hands shake slightly as they pull at your upper arms, trying to get you to sit up.

You follow his guidance, lifting yourself off the ground, still joined at the mouth, and he stands with you, fingertips running lightly all over your still-damp skin, attacking your senses.

You pull back briefly, take a couple of shallow breaths, and blink dazedly at him. “I’m getting cold, Taehyung, can we…” You tip your head towards the bed behind him, shivering slightly in your wet underwear and bra.

He agrees with a hum as he reclaims your lips, and all of a sudden you’re yelping into his mouth as he’s using those corded arms of his to lift you up onto him. Instinctively, your arms and legs wrap around him, and he turns around and kicks the covers back with a foot before letting you down onto the bed.

You bounce slightly on the mattress, wincing at the way your slips of fabric immediately make damp patches on the fabric. You pout up at him and he grins down at you, reaching down a finger to playfully snap the fabric of your waistband on your skin. “Should we take these off?” he asks in teasing voice, and you nod quickly, taken aback by his change in demeanour.

“Please, Taehyung,” you beg as you unclip your bra, lifting your hips to help him slide your panties off and away, “I need you.”

Your legs fall open naturally when he runs a flat palm up the inside of your leg, finishing at the top of your thigh. His eyes are darkened with lust, and he bites his lip at the sight of you. “And you’ll get me,” he promises, “but now it’s time for me to cash in.”

You frown, but you realize what he means when he falls to his knees, grabbing your ankles and tugging you down so that your ass is right on the edge of the bed. “Tae,” you gasp, but your hand is already in his hair, fingers brushing his scalp and running through the damp strands.

He leans into your touch, lids lowering in bliss, then snaps himself out of it and looks back down at you. His intense gaze at your most private part would have you shying away from embarrassment were it not for the look of absolute wonder and desire in his eyes. “Every part of you is so perfect,” he praises lowly, and your breath hitches when he brings up a single finger to run down the middle of you, parting your folds.

You feel a sea of goose bumps all over your skin, and you find yourself whispering pleas to him for more. A pleasured sigh is taken from you when he obliges by using two fingers to part your folds, exposing him to you, and he blows a thin stream of cool air over your clit.

Your head falls back against the mattress when you hear him chuckle quietly. “So sensitive,” he murmurs, “are you always this wet when you haven’t even been touched yet?”

Oh God. There’s something so erotic about the hopeless romantic speaking so dirtily to you. “Only because it’s you, Taehyung.”

“Oh?” Your legs jump, tightening against the edge of the bed when he bends down to slurp noisily at you, sucking up some of your slick. Your mouth drops open when he wipes his face clean against the sensitive skin of your thigh. “So this pussy’s all for me?”

“Y-yeah,” you moan, breaths choppy and uneven as he continues to tease you, running a finger lazily up and down, never brushing against your clit or dipping into your hole deeper than a fingertip. “Tae, please, more.”

You shudder and breathe out shakily when he finally lets a finger sink down into you, only stopping when he can go no further. He hums contentedly at your reaction. “Well, I can’t say no when you have such polite manners. Here,” he uses his free hand to cup the back of your leg and hitch it over his shoulder, tugging a little bit so that you’re even closer to his waiting mouth. “Now let me hear you moan for me.”

And with that, he descends on you. Gone are the light touches and teasing brushes. Now, it feels like he’s devouring you, and you’re in heaven.

His tongue is merciless as it sucks, flicks and swipes at your clit, and within moments he’s upgrading from one finger, to two, and soon enough you feel that addictive stretch as three of his calloused fingers thrust into you with the singular intention of ripping an orgasm from your sensitive flesh.

You no longer feel cold; instead, your nerves are on fire, and the feeling only increases as he lets go of your leg to reach up and palm roughly at your breast, rolling the nipple deftly between two fingers.

You shake hopelessly beneath him, fingers curling up to tug and push at his hair, pressing him deeper into you. It’s not until you begin to move against him, chasing more friction, that you feel a strange slight vibration.

You gather the strength needed to lift your head up and look down at him, and almost fall over the edge from the sight alone. Taehyung’s eyes are shut, but you can see the way his lids dance as he rolls them back and his brows knit. You quieten down a bit and can hear him moaning gruffly as he sucks at you, the entire bottom half of his face and the tip of his nose glossy with your wetness.

The thing that finally pitches you over the edge, however, as he crooks his fingers up inside you just right, is the way you can see him rutting up against the side of the bed, back muscles flexing as he desperately seeks out some friction.

Your body curls in on itself with the force of your orgasm, and you arch your back up, grinding against his face to prolong your pleasure. You’re pretty sure you hear him growl against you when you dig your ankles in as your legs tighten over his shoulders, but soon that sound is drowned out by your cries.

He doesn’t stop until you try and wriggle away from his mouth, pushing his head away, and when he pulls back, your legs slip limply from his shoulders and dangle over the side of the bed. You close your eyes for a moment and throw your arm over, catching your breath to the sound of rain hitting the roof. Once you finally feel yourself become coherent again, you sit up tiredly, humming in satisfaction, only to freeze the moment you look at Taehyung.

He’s stripping away his underwear, but before he gets the chance to you see a spreading shiny patch on the already-wet fabric, and your suspicions are confirmed when you look back up to his cock, which has a white sheen to it.

“Did you cum from eating me out?” you ask incredulously. “I thought… I thought you wanted to fuck me.”

Taehyung, still slow and smiley with the dopamine released from his orgasm, laughs breathily. “Of course I’m still going to fuck you. That pussy’s begging for my cock, isn’t it. Look at her.” He presses at your still-sensitive clit, and your legs clamp shut around his hand. He licks his lips, slips his hand back out, and brings his finger to his mouth, sucking on it thoughtfully. “Lie down, angel.”

You shuffle up and turn yourself so that your feet are under the covers and your head rests comfortably on the pillow.

Taehyung looks over you with curious eyes, tugging absentmindedly at his cock, pumping himself a few times to test his sensitivity. Your mouth waters at the fact that he’s already ready to go again, and he’s still as hard as ever. He sighs once, tugs the duvet back so it slips off the bottom of the bed, and pats the side of your hip. “On your stomach,” he commands softly.

Even after such a powerful orgasm, you find yourself growing wetter, excitement rising within you as you obediently roll over, shuffling down a little so that your head rests on your crossed forearms, blinking up at him innocently.

His eyes flutter and his mouth parts as his eyes run over you. You feel the bed dip as he gets on, one knee on either side of yours, and palms at the flesh of your ass. You let yourself relax, eyes closing naturally as he squeezes them, parting the cheeks to see what lies between.

Once his finger dips down, you bring your legs up slightly and part them, so that your ass is presented in the air for him nicely, but he tuts at you and uses a firm hand on the small of your back to push you back down flat. “I want you to feel all of me,” he explains, still massaging the tender flesh of your cheeks. His hand slides between you and the bed to press at your lower stomach. “Right here.”

You arch, yearning for more of his touch. “Taehyung, please, need you inside me already.”

Instead of replying, he just shifts himself, and uses the back of a hand to push your legs apart a little more, still keeping you flat against the mattress. When you feel him lining up against your entrance, you hold your breath in anticipation, only releasing it in a moaned sigh when he begins pressing into you.

The fit isn’t as tough to take as the first time, since he’s fingered you first, but the unique angle has your mouth falling open. You’ve never felt anyone this deep, and it seems like he’s bigger than ever as he just keeps going in further, splitting you apart.

Once he bottoms out, you moan brokenly as he leans forward, pressing a soft kiss on the back of your shoulder. “Does it feel good? Hm?”

You swallow, and although your mouth feels dry, you’ve drooled onto your arm. “So full, Tae, I can’t.”

“Shh, angel, it’s okay, you can take it. We’ll go slow, yeah?” You cry out, feeling yourself trembling as he pulls out and thrusts in again, a fraction quicker and smoother than last time. He checks in again, and you nod jerkily. “That’s my good girl.”

Unlike last time, every single thrust is measured and hits deeper than you’ve ever felt before. You feel incapable of closing your mouth, and moans and drool alike fall out without you even being aware of it. It feels so good, almost more than you can believe, and by the way Taehyung grunts as he holds back, you can tell it feels good for him too.

“Fuck, so good for me,” he praises, “all for me.”

“Just for you, Tae,” you repeat back to him in a breathy whine, “god, I’m close already, how-? Oh, fuck.”

He begins to add a swivel of his hips every time he bottoms out, and when it causes your clit to rub against the rough cotton of his sheets, the added friction has your eyes rolling in the back of your head, coming undone from the pleasure. He pants and moans in your ear, just as loud as you are. “Fuck, you gonna let me cum in you again? Keep it in you the whole plane ride back so you’re reminded that no one back in your country can fuck you this good?”

You whimper helplessly at his words. “Tae, yes, fuck! Come in me, I want it!”

He begins to speed up as he gets close, and every thrust has a garbled moan tumbling out of your mouth, static jolts of pleasure pitching you towards an orgasm that feels like it’ll be more powerful than your first.

You feel a wetness on your neck, and realise it’s him sucking a hickey onto your skin, nipping and lapping at the sensitive flesh once he’s done. “Gonna fuck my baby into you,” he promises in a husky voice, “make you mine forever. You want that? Come back to me with your stomach swollen with my baby?”

Though you should be freaking out like last time he confessed in bed, the thought sends a violent shudder through you and you tip your head to give him more access to your throat, grinding as much as you can against him and the mattress, surrounded by pleasure on both sides. “Ah, I’m gonna cum, Tae, fuck!”

“Cum for me, angel,” he commands, and the two of you cry out simultaneously, going out of your minds as he wraps an arm around your stomach and holds you steady as he fucks into you with the last of his energy. You feel him spill inside you, so much that it trickles out of you even as he stays buried to the hilt inside you.

When he collapses, he tips the two of you onto your sides and wraps a leg around you, spooning you tenderly. You let your head rest against the pillow and try and catch your breath. Taehyung recovers first, and he whispers into the dark. “Please come back to me.”

Though he can’t see it, you close your eyes and smile blissfully. “Always.”

[ill-skillsgard]

Against the Rules - Henry Deaver x Mistress

Warning: 18+ overall. Mentions of sex/cheating/spousal conflict/mature themes. Please read at your own discretion.

Note: Thank you all for the asks and for following me on this ridiculous journey. Hope you enjoy this part. Let me know your thoughts. Any and allreblogs/comments are very much appreciated!

Read more Henry x Mistress here >   Masterpost

Everything was changing so fast. One day you were pouring coffee, wiping down tables and getting stiffed on tips in a hotel cafe and the next you were taking the elevator to the top floor standing next to Henry who looked great in his new suit.

It took some restraint not to tell him how good he looked in the slim-fitting ensemble. You had approved the look during a shopping trip he had taken you on a few days prior. It stood out in his wardrobe but wasn't flashy enough to attract too much attention. There was just something different about him. A bubbliness, a lilt, a brightness that erased the exhaustion from under his bi-coloured eyes. His employees and colleagues complimented him, unsure of what it was about him that seemed different. All they knew was that Henry Deaver looked great.

You knew what was different. Henry was happy.

His office was in the Easternmost corner of the top floor of a building that dwarfed many other prestigious surrounding businesses. Half the office was floor-to-ceiling windows and the rest of it was painted starch white. He had a comfortable desk and chair, all recent modern design, functionality and no compromise on style. The artwork on the walls were soulful glimpses of foreign lands festooned with lights, cobblestone, rolling hills and squat brown, red, yellow and orange structures.

"Wow," your voice echoed in the office.

"You can see why I try to spend as little time here as possible," he gestured around the wide room.

"I don't see why... This is a beautiful office."

"Really? Feels like a prison to me."

"A five-star prison," you laughed.

Henry shrugged his shoulders, shelving his large hands on his hips with a soliciting smile. "It's basically you and I in here occasionally. You met the receptionist out front but the desk just outside is yours whenever we're here. Nobody walks through these doors unless authorized."

"Unless they have an appointment," you recalled.

"That's right," he nodded. "See? Told you this was going to be easy."

"Except when somebody asks me a question about what to do or where to go."

"It's not your job to know. Your job is simply to take my calls if I'm busy, pencil in meetings, schedule my flights, book hotels and reservations. You know... Anything that has to do with me while I'm occupied. You are an extension of me. And don't look so worried, you'll get to know my clients quickly. My phone isn't ringing off the hook like some of the other guys in here."

"That's good to know," you completed your walk around his office and stopped a few feet from him.

His eyes climbed down your body and then back up. The pleasant smile softened, taking on a tinge of lust. "God, you look so good in that skirt."

"Mr. Deaver... I won't be needing to file a harassment claim so soon, will I?"

Henry snapped his fingers, remembering an important piece of information that trumped any kind of romantic exchange that may have continued. "That reminds me... You'll have to go talk to Helen in HR to go over some things. Sign some papers. Probably a whole lot of other Human Resource-related things. So, why don't we do that before heading to lunch?"

"Sure," you smiled.

Henry walked you through the office and brought you to a contrite little woman with a tight bun and grandmotherly features. Helen took you aside and had you sign a few documents, read a few pages and then handed you a page about workplace relationships and harassment.

"Now, we don't scrutinize what you do in your personal life, but it is against company policy for any employee to engage in romantic relationships with any performance-appraising figure. Now, since the only person you answer to is Mr. Deaver, that narrows it down a bit," the woman chuckled.

Your skin flared as a nervous breath left you in the form of a strained laugh. "Yes, of course."

"He's married, anyway. I don't think we have much to worry about. Nevertheless, you must sign to state you understand and accept the policy. You'll also have to complete a one-hour workplace harassment course. It's nothing really. Just an old, out-dated video with a multiple-choice test that you can't fail."

"Right," you nodded cooperatively.

Helen had you sit down and watch the workplace harassment video right then and there while she input all your information into a computer. The video was on a DVD and you couldn't remember the last time you had heard the crack of a plastic movie case being opened. The media format was youthful compared to the age of the video and you snickered at some of the campiness of a low-budget sexual harassment training video. Some parts made you cringe, and others made you sweat.

"If you ever feel assailed by your boss, you can speak up! If your employer withholds raises and promotions from you because of your refusal to accept romantic advances, you CAN speak up! If a co-worker makes inappropriate comments about your race, gender, sexual orientation or religion, you CAN speak up! There are laws in place to protect employees from unwanted advances. Remember... You CAN speak up! Your Human Resources officer will assist you and provide you with the proper steps..."

You lost yourself in daydreams and hardly paid attention to the video after a while. Henry had been strolling by the HR office every few minutes to flash you a look. It was cute to see how eager he was to get the ball rolling. The formalities were more painful to him than they were to you. When you were finally released from Helen's charge, Henry met you outside of the office and sighed.

"Jesus, what did you do in there? Watch all of her home movies?"

You laughed at the hint of a pout that tugged at his bottom lip, making the dimple on his chin appear and fade. "I had to watch a video on harassment in the workplace and I have to tell you... I learned some very interesting information watching all those poor, shoulder-pad-wearing employees being assailed by their bosses."

Henry clamped down on the inside of his cheek for a moment, shoulders rising with a silent laugh. "Right. Assailed."

You followed Henry back to his office where a laptop had appeared on his desk. He sat down in the desk chair and motioned for you to approach. You looked down at the screen he had up and didn't recognize even a square inch of what you saw.

"I have a bit of a database on my clients that you can use. It might be useful for when you get those phone calls. They won't assume that you don't know them, so you can use this to get a better idea of who they are, where they come from and our roles. Might make you sound better on the phone... not that you don't sound good on the phone."

You bit back a smirk, but it showed anyway. "Sure thing, Mr. Deaver."

He used his long legs to push himself out from under the desk. "Since it's getting kind of late, I figured we could order lunch in and just sit around. You know... Go over some stuff. I'll have to brief you on the current project. We'll be heading to Prague next week, so I'll have to get you the company card and all of that."

The day matured, the sun started to go down and five o'clock had come and gone along with nearly every person on the floor. Nobody came by to bother Henry, so you had several uninterrupted hours of learning. And he maintained his professionalism even during the times you tested him. When it came down to work, he was a tough man to distract. It was only the first day but you couldn’t resist trying to irk him a little bit.

Henry got up, shrugged out of his suit jacket and took a few stretching steps around the office. The skyline was starting to melt into purple that would then turn navy blue as a bruise, swivelled toward the door and went to peer out.

"Guess everyone's gone for the day," he said under the distinct locking of the door.

"I suppose so. We stayed late."

"It's necessary. We need to get you up to speed as soon as possible. We fly next week. How are you feeling about everything? Is there anything that still confuses you?"

You thought about all he had taught you in those hours and shrugged. "If I think of a question, I'll ask you, sir."

Henry flashed a sage smile that soon faded as he looked out over the darkening city line. "You hungry?"

"Only for your cock."

"Babe... Come on. It's our first day."

"Not my first day wanting every inch of that--"

"I'm serious!" He turned from the windows and approached the desk.

His lack of playfulness was disconcerting, but you respectfully shut your mouth and waited for him to circle the desk. Henry pushed the chair you were in to make some space between you and the desk. Sidestepping, he came up close, peering down with that same humourless expression.

"Get up," he muttered.

"Why?"

"You're questioning me already? Get. Up." He hammered out the last two words.

"Okay," you murmured, rising from the chair.

"Bend over the desk," he then whispered.

When you were resting your weight on the flat surface, Henry took a step behind you. No contact was made, and you turned your head to see what the reflections in the windows told of. He let his palm slide flat against the back of your skirt before it pulled back in a flash and clapped you.

Henry had never done that to you before. Jaw distended and eyes wide, you looked back at him and couldn't tell if you should make light of it or entertain the perversity by playing along.

"When you're in my office," he began. "You follow my rules. Out there you get to be whomever you want. Mistress, sex kitten, the innocent-looking girl from the cafe... But in here... You're fucking mine. And you listen to me. And you never ever question my authority. Do you understand?"

Had Henry been capable of this the whole time or had he picked up this trick from hanging around with you too much? Either way, it sent excitement trilling all over your body, manifesting between your legs as pure arousal. Hearing his voice darken and those domineering words sliding down the back of your neck as his hand squeezed your ass made you shiver.

"I said... Do you understand?" His groin pressed into you from behind.

"Yes, sir."

"That's right." He undid his belt and sat down in the desk chair that you had previously occupied. "Oh, I love having my own naughty little office slut."

A trickle of his usual pleasant tone returned, and you smiled at him. The jangling of his belt falling away caught your attention and you watched him pull his cock out of the pants you had been admiring all day.

"Come sit on your boss' cock."

"Sir... Isn't that against the rules?"

"Do I look like I give a shit? Go ahead and run to HR and tell them about how your pussy got so wet from the thought of fucking your boss that you simply couldn't help but..." He reached out to hike up your skirt and wrench down your panties. "Slide your panties off and have a seat on his lap."

You indulged him. Of course. Because indulging him meant indulging yourself and the thought of Henry fucking you in the middle of his office, after hours, in front of a mammoth pane of glass while the city twinkled below was not a fulfillment you could take off the shelf any another day but today. It had to happen right then and there. So much of your time had been spent fantasizing about how delectable it would be to fuck Henry in his office. But this was even better. Henry was playing conductor this time.

"Come on, don't worry," his words rang sweetly. "Door's locked. Everyone's gone home. You and I can have a little more private time, right? I could have fucked you twenty times already today and nobody would have known."

"Why didn't you?"

"Oh," Henry chortled, not so easily derailed by your challenge. "Trust me, sweetheart... Daddy was thinking about it."

Your mouth opened but a quip could not follow how he had addressed himself. Shit, Henry had it in him. It was you who normally initiated the depravity. You wanted to be proud of him, but you could do that later.

Cashing in on that fulfillment, you relaxed against him like he was but part of the chair. He hissed when he spotted the right angle and slid every inch of himself into you dreadfully slow. He breathed next to your ear and hummed with delight when you sat flush against him, thighs spread out over his. The cold metal of his belt poked you too, but you didn't care. It was filthy and evocative of the spit in the face of professionalism that Henry seemed to hold so high.

Dark reflections in the window became an extradimensional porno playing on a crystal projector screen in the foreground of the city you had grown up in. Henry wasn't the quiet, apprehensive man-in-black that you met at your old job. And you weren't the girl with a simplified life of frugality and the less-than-average sex life. You had joined together at the right moment to cause this.

"Oh my god, Mr. Deaver... That’s so much. You’re so big," you whimpered.

The depth of the chair didn't allow for much leverage, even if he scooted himself and you down to prop himself on planted feet. You rose up suddenly, afraid you might fall forward until he encircled you, holding you to him so he could then splay you out over the desk. From his new standing position behind you, he used both hands to yank you down to meet his pelvis. Your skirt inched up your waist as the slapping of skin kept time with your pulse.

Four long fingers stroked your throat, squeezing gently to guide you up. He needed to tell you something, but he couldn't bear to stop the assault on your pussy from behind. You were glistening wet and the sounds of him slipping in and out of you made his balls tighten.

"Who's the boss of you?"

"You are sir," you choked beneath the grip on your neck.

"Yes, little lady. That's correct. You answer to me. You do as I say."

"Yes," he shook a gasp out of you.

Henry nipped the side of your neck and you jolted from the sting. "My nasty little assistant. What would I do without you? What would I do without that tight, tight pussy to shoot my fucking cum inside?"

"I don't know, I don't know!"

"Well, now I don't ever have to go without. I can have you any time I want. Oh, yes... You're mine all mine."

"I'm yours, daddy."

[titansandothersrp]

Road to Recovery

(This is a compiled roleplay between my Beast Boy muse and the Raven muse of @azarathian . This is a very old roleplay we wrote under different usernames, but I labeled our writing with our current usernames.)

titansandothersrp (Beast Boy): “Ooooogggg…” Beast Boy let out a groan as he slowly opened his eyes. “I feel like I got hit by a truck.” 

Cyborg’s face lit up at this, not because Beast Boy didn’t feel well, but because he was conscious after having been out for three hours. After chatting with his buddy a bit (and figuring out the issue of using the bathroom when attached to machines), Cyborg informed their leader that their teammate was conscious. Robin congratulated Beast Boy on his and Raven’s new move and wished him a speedy recovery. Starfire was next to visit him, offering more of the same (and some Tamaranean food that he politely declined.) After her visit with Beast Boy, Starfire made her way to Raven’s room, giving a knock. “Come, Raven! Our friend has awakened and wishes to partake in your company!”  azarathian (Raven):

“Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos… Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos…”  The words resonated round in her mind like clockwork. With each chant, her body grew lighter and lighter as she felt herself drift from the world and into a state of ease. It had taken the better part of the first two hours for her to become calm again, and now she was well into the third. When she’d started, having come straight to her room from the med bay, there was a torrent of questions and concerns spiralling within her.  He’ll be okay, she had told herself, over and over, until a fragment of the statement had begun to finally sink in. Breathe. In. Out. You’ve all gotten through worse than this. Much worse. It’s an injury, and we have the best medical facilities and health expert at hand. He’ll be okay. He has to be. Amidst her internal monologue, she remembered the conversation she’d had with the masked man who had stopped her in the corridor on her way from the bay to her room.“How is he?” he’d asked, a hand touching her arm. “He’s unconscious,” she returned. “But Cyborg says he’ll be okay. He has a collapsed lung.” She spoke matter-of-factly, but despite the placidity of her voice her leader could see the worry in her eyes.  “I’m on my way there now. Aren’t you gonna stay?”  “No. I need to meditate.” She had begun to walk away, when he stopped her again.  “Where were you two?” She stopped and turned with a curious look. “Before the battle, I mean. When the alarm went off, you weren’t in the tower, so I checked your communicators.” He spoke cautiously. “You were both located in the same spot, thirty feet from the first attack.” She eyed him for a moment, summoning the right words.  “… We… bumped into each other in the city. I’d been at my café, he’d been wherever he goes. I was on my way back and… yeah.”  “Ah. Right.” His response was slower than usual.  There was a pause.  “I’ll be in my room if you need me.”  And she was gone.  Dark brows furrowed at the memory. It got to her. The fact she felt she had to hide what had truly happened from Robin. Why? Couldn’t she just tell him she was having lunch at the bakery with Beast Boy? She’d have told him if it had been Cyborg, so why was this different? She should’ve just told him. But then… Of course, whether she cared to admit it or not, there was no need for these questions. She knew exactly why. Because if she’d told him – if she’d told any of them – conclusions would be made. Conclusions that… weren’t true. Of course. Her friends would suspect something was ‘going on’ between them. Because why else would Beast Boy and Raven go out together for the afternoon? Alone. Without telling anyone else. It couldn’t possibly be just a trip out between friends, no – there would have to be lines to read between. But if her friends looked, they’d find nothing between the lines. Because all it was was, in fact, a mere outing between friends. Which she didn’t want them to know about. Which she… enjoyed a lot. Which she looked forward to doing again…  The lines suddenly seemed more complex in her head than they had been before…  In her meditation, her forehead creased. Why was she even thinking so much on this? Why was she devoting so much time – meditation time, for that matter – with her mind on her green friend? Why—  KNOCK KNOCK Raven’s eyes opened, her thoughts shaken by the unexpected sound. When she uncrossed her legs and headed for the door, she was indeed met with the owner of the distinct and cheery voice.  “He’s awake?” she asked.  “Yes! We are all elated and have taken turns to speak with him since his revival, so as not to overwhelm him. Please, you must now journey to the bay of meds and bestow him with your own presence!”  It didn’t take much convincing for Raven to do as told, and before long she was knocking lightly on the infirmary door before stepping inside.  “Hey…”  titansandothersrp (Beast Boy): “Hey…” He smiled weakly at her. Though he was doing better than he was earlier, he was still in bad shape. He was sore and had some difficulty breathing, but was fighting through it. “Thanks for coming to see me… Just can’t get enough of me today, huh?” He attempted to chuckle, but it was more of a wheeze.  azarathian (Raven): Her weight leaning to one hip, she offered him a critical look. Just woken up from an almost fatal injury and already poking fun. What else should she expect?  Ignoring his comment, she walked towards his bed and looked down to him. “How are you feeling?”  titansandothersrp (Beast Boy): “I feel like I was hit by a post box with enough force to collapse my lung.” He replied with a frown. He felt horrible.  “Let’s just say I feel so bad… I can’t be dramatic about it…”  azarathian (Raven): She mirrored his frown, sympathising with his suffering but also silently grateful for her healing abilities, without which he might still be out cold, and in much more pain once coming to.  She took a lone chair placed at the side of the room and pulled it to his bedside before promptly sitting. 

“You had us all worried.”  titansandothersrp (Beast Boy): “You were worried about me?” He gave a weak smile. “That’s cute~” He tried to laugh once more, only managing a wheeze. “Don’t worry though… I know I look bad… but I’m sure I’ll be okay.” He kept the smile on his face, despite the pain. “I guess you were right… about the team caring about me… They all looked so relieved that I was okay…” His eyes welled up with tears, but he was too weak to blink them away. “Thank you… for caring so much… I don’t know what I’d do without you.” azarathian (Raven): A light flutter ran through her chest at his opening response, though she quelled it quickly. The girl hadn’t been expecting such an emotional reaction from the changeling; though, she reminded herself, the wound could have been fatal had they not acted hastily and urgently. It truly was a close call, and though certain members of the team had had similar close calls before, it was the first time something so sudden and severe had happened to her friend right before her eyes.  She swallowed, hands limp in her lap as her eyes met his.  “C’mon,” she said gently. “Don’t start crying, what would Cy say?” Her gaze softened as she voiced the joke, a sense of positivity returning to her. She felt it somewhat wrong for him to be speaking so seriously, and so chose to take his part by lightening the atmosphere, a ghost of a smirk only just in sight.  titansandothersrp (Beast Boy): “I can’t help it.” The tears trickled down his face. “I’m just so happy… Don’t tell Cy… even though he almost cried too.” He wheezed a short laugh. “He told me I’m not gonna be able to do much for a while… Would you mind hanging out with me while I’m stuck? …I could use the company… and the calm.”  azarathian (Raven): An understanding smile graced her complexion as she tilted her head a touch to the side. “What? You think we’re gonna leave you in here on your own? Don’t worry. We’ll all be spending time with you till you recover, or at least till you can move from bed to the couch and all those wires come off you,” she assured, eyes gesturing to the multiple machines his fragile body was hooked to.  “Did he say how long it might take?”  titansandothersrp (Beast Boy): The changeling wiped his eyes and smiled at her. “He thinks I’ll be hooked up for a few days… And all better in a few weeks… Call me crazy… but I think I’ll miss a few training sessions…”  azarathian (Raven): The girl snorted softly. “Yeah. You are crazy,” she said. “But that’s not as bad as I thought. The important thing is that you get plenty of rest. It’ll help with the healing.”  titansandothersrp (Beast Boy): “Like a fox… and every other animal.” His eyelids began to droop, but he attempted to keep his eyes open. “I don’t think I have any choice but to rest.” azarathian (Raven):

“Mm. Clearly,” she murmured, dipping her chin and giving a slight smile. It was obvious he was exhausted, and with having already spoken to the rest of the team individually, she wasn’t surprised. What he needed was uninterrupted sleep, for as long as his body required. And being the sensible person she was, Raven wasn’t about to deny him of it.  “You’re tired. You should sleep…”  titansandothersrp (Beast Boy):

“Mm… I’m fine.. Don’t put the… car in the apple… husumuffa…” He trailed off into nonsense and gibberish as his eyes closed and he fell asleep.  azarathian (Raven): THREE DAYS LATER One boot tapped impatiently against the tiled floor as she scanned the text in front of her, temples creased in concentration so as not to make a wrong move. Violet eyes flicked back and forth across the deck in her hands, turned tactfully away from the other’s range of view. 

Hmm… Which one… A few seconds of suspense lingered between them, then her lips pursed to the side before she finally settled on a decision.  “Stamina: fourty points,” she declared, placing the card down flat on the table between them.  titansandothersrp (Beast Boy):

“C’mon, whatever animal deities that may be out there, give me something good.” He drew a card and looked at it before setting it down. “Cheetah. Speed: eighty points. At least double your stamina points! Cheetah catches up to you!”  azarathian (Raven): Damn. 

A dark brow twitched in annoyance at the move. This game was like 30% skill and 70% luck. Now, if they had been playing chess, however…  Raven exhaled through her nose, looking over her set once again but finding nothing that could overthrow her competitor’s cheetah. And so, she had no choice but to relinquish her dignity and reach for the excess pile of cards in the middle, taking the first lying on top.  Come on. As she turned it towards her, the scrunch of her face gave way to a sly smile.  “Surrender,” she said cockily as she threw the card down, which read the word she’d just spoke. “So I’ll be taking your highest ranking mammal, thank you.”  titansandothersrp (Beast Boy): “Aw, c’mon…” He sulked, sliding the cheetah to her side of the playing field. 

“You may have my cheetah, but I’ve got an ace up my sleeve… Well, not really. That would be cheating and I’m not even wearing sleeves.” In order for him to heal more efficiently, Beast Boy went without his usual tight uniform shirt. azarathian (Raven): “Really?” she said, “You might wanna choose wisely. This cheetah could turn back on you any minute now.” The girl had the card held between her fingers, waving it back and forth like taunting a lion with a slab of meat.  titansandothersrp (Beast Boy): “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were planning to lure my most powerful card out so you can take it.” 

“Like that’s gonna happen.”  azarathian (Raven):

“Just play the card.”  titansandothersrp (Beast Boy):

“Uh. No. I’m not that dumb. You’re just gonna have to deal with a terrain change.” He laid down a swamp card. “Let’s see how strong your cheetah is when surrounded by swamp.”  azarathian (Raven): His successes in the game so far were starting to get under her skin; she wasn’t used to losing, and certainly not to Beast Boy. She’d have to be prudent with how she continued from this point on. This was war, after all.  As he placed down the card she leaned over the table that sat between her chair and his hospital bed to get a better look. It was another good move. 

“Hm. Not bad,” she begrudgingly admitted. Scouring her deck, she tried to find a card that could thrive in swampy conditions. Her stare hooked onto the perfect thing. Hopefully he wouldn’t be able to trump this in the environment at hand.  “Alligator. Strength: 82. Nice try,” she said, leaning back in her seat, pleased.  titansandothersrp (Beast Boy): “And it’s boosted by the swamp.” He sighed. “I guess I have to risk my most powerful card…” 

He placed down his card. “Megalodon. Strength: 1,000.” Assuming Raven didn’t have an extinction card or something along those lines, his card will be able to defeat just about any card.  azarathian (Raven): Her eyes swelled at the sight. It was just her luck that he’d have the only Megalodon card in his deck! It wasn’t just his most powerful card either, but the most powerful of all the cards. Nonetheless, there were two potential ways to defeat it; if the opposing player has either a dry terrain card (which would render the beast useless), or an extinction card (which made any extinct animal played irrelevant).  Unfortunately for Raven, she had none of these in her deck. She tried to veil the worry in her expression, for she knew she was very close to defeat. Her only chance now was to pick a card from the main deck and pray it was one of the two she needed. And so, with a reluctant hand, she reached for the pile and once again picked the first one on the top. 

Before lifting it to her face, she took a deep breath in, preparing herself for the worst. And in one swift, daring move, she looked at her fate.  … Bunny.  With a great sigh, Raven slumped in her chair, utterly defeated.  “I’m out.”  titansandothersrp (Beast Boy): “I won? I won! YE-” His celebrating was cut short by a hacking cough. “Shouting… bad idea…” He wheezed between coughs. He pounded his chest with his fist, yet another bad idea. “Ow… ow… ow…” 

azarathian (Raven):

“Are you okay?” she asked quickly, standing up from her seat and pushing the small table to one side. Simply coughing might’ve seemed like a menial thing, but with his injury being as bad as it was, not to mention only happening three days prior, he could’ve really hurt himself just now.  titansandothersrp (Beast Boy): He held a hand to his chest and waved his other hand dismissively. He didn’t want her to worry. He just needed a moment, he figured. 

azarathian (Raven): Clearly he was in pain, and she felt awful for him. Having never been the victim of a collapsed lung before, she wouldn’t know what it felt like, but had certainly gathered enough research to know it was a terrible burden, especially early in the recovery process.  Looking on at him with solemn gaze as he winced and clutched his chest, she felt a pang of her own in her stomach. Perhaps she could try easing it off, for the moment; it was definitely worth a try.

“… Hold still.” The magus pulled her chair closer to his bedside, so there was no space between the two, and sat back down. Taking her time, she leaned forwards and took his hand from his ribs, lowering it to his side so that the area was exposed. “Don’t worry, it won’t hurt,” she almost whispered as she cautiously flattened her palm and let it rest against the flesh that he’d covered.  She breathed in, then let some of her energy seep into him in a familiar blue light. Lips still, eyes focused on the action, she softly let her mantra escape like a wisp from her mouth.  titansandothersrp (Beast Boy): As the pain subsided, Beast Boy fully realized what was going on. Raven, the girl he’d been pining after, had her hand on his chest. It may have been platonic and simply to heal him, but he couldn’t help the heat rushing to his cheeks or the fast pounding in his chest. She was so close to him… so beautiful. Her eyes were illuminated by the blue light, making them shine. And her hair had a beautiful purple sheen. He could even smell her, a mix of the soaps she used, incense, and a hint of tea leaves. Each titan had their own unique scent, but he found himself most drawn to Raven’s. He stayed silent, hands gripping the side of the bed, taking everything in.  azarathian (Raven): A few seconds passed between them, the room void of all noise but for their delicate breathing. She felt the vibrations of her power beneath the palm of her hand as the last remnants of refulgence flowed into his being. Once it had completely dispersed, she felt only flesh again, and the beating of his heart below the curve of his ribs.  It took a moment for her to catch herself after the process, but once she did she noticed how rapid the beating had become. Letting her hand lie there a little longer, she grew concerned her healing might’ve interfered with him internally. Why else would his heart be beating at such a pace? When she glanced up at him to address the matter, she was met with a flushed face and could practically feel the warmth radiating from it.  “You’re burning up,” she said, taking her hand away and letting it hang in the air, unsure of what to do. “What’s wrong? Do you feel sick?” The girl looked at him, concerned.  titansandothersrp (Beast Boy):

“Uh… N-n-no. I think I’ll be okay. Must be a side effect of the magic… “ The changeling stuttered out. “Or the lighting. These med bay fluorescent bulbs can really burn you up, you know?” He fumbled for excuses, not wanting to reveal his feelings for her just yet. Oh God… the way she was looking at him… Calm down, Beast Boy… This is your friend. You’ve know her for years. Be cool.  azarathian (Raven): “Mm,” she hummed, not entirely convinced. She also couldn’t help the way her eyebrow quirked in confusion at his stuttering and tenseness. “Are you sure? I can get you some ice if you need it.”  titansandothersrp (Beast Boy): “Uh… I suppose some ice couldn’t hurt…” Once Raven had left the room, he let out a sigh. “Idiot!” He scolded himself. “You can’t go all stutter-y when Raven gets close. You’re gonna scare her off!” He huffed as much as he could with his injury. “Just relax. Raven is your friend. She obviously cares for you and you don’t want to mess that up. Just be yourself and everything will be fine.”  azarathian (Raven): Curious as to her friend’s current condition and not yet having visited him that day, a particular red-head floated mirthfully down the opposite end of the corridor from where Raven had left. By the time she had approached the infirmary door, the cloaked figure heading down the hallway was much too far for her to engage with, though she had recognised her to be Raven. Starfire immediately assumed the sorceress had just departed from having visited their injured green friend.  Perfect! Now she would be able to fulfil the position of company for him. Smiling, she neared the door without a sound, considering her hovering form. It was as she reached the last few feet, however, that she heard the boy talking. Was someone still in there with him? She blinked, trying to make out who he was speaking to; she was sure she’d seen both Robin and Cyborg in the main ops room just before making her way to him…  “You can’t go all stutter-y when Raven gets close. You’re gonna scare her off! Just relax. Raven is your friend. She obviously cares for you and you don’t want to mess that up. Just be yourself and everything will be fine.” Beryl eyes shot open with intrigue. Despite her foreign nature, Starfire was far from naive when it came to certain affairs. And just now, as she waited round the corner of the door, suspicions instantly flourished in her head. Though she couldn’t be certain of the situation at hand, she knew she’d heard correctly. It wasn’t hard to put two and two together, after all - even for an alien. 

“Friend Beast Boy!” she proclaimed, entering the room. “I trust you are in well spirits, yes?”  titansandothersrp (Beast Boy):

“Gah!” The changeling just about fell off the bed, but managed to catch himself. Holding his chest, he tried to calm down. “Jeez, Star. Are you trying to give me a heart attack on top of everything else?” He exhaled, managing a smile. “Yeah. I’m feeling a lot better now that I’m not hooked up to a bunch of machines. Cy says I’m not quite ready to walk around the Tower just yet though.” He blinked. “…You didn’t hear anything, did you?”  azarathian (Raven): In all honesty, she’d seen the flail coming considering he’d only just been talking ‘privately’ to himself. She probably should’ve coughed or knocked or something of the sort before entering, now she thought about it…  A small, nervous laugh filled the space between them. “Forgive me, I was eager to check on your wellbeing,” she began. “Oh, but that is joyous to hear!” the girl beamed at him, but when his question followed, though her smile remained, a certain… impishness seemed to play at her features.  “I did not mean to intrude upon your conversation with yourself. But I am afraid the door was left open.” Need she say more?  titansandothersrp (Beast Boy): “Oh… well…” He wracked his brain for a good lie. “I was just worried about scaring Raven off by being so dependent on her and you guys, you know? We’ve been getting along pretty well lately and I don’t want to mess that up.” He forced a smile, trying to convince her. “…Also, if you could not tell anyone what I said, that’d be great.”  azarathian (Raven): “Ah, of course,” she replied, her smile growing wider. “I shall not tell, but I understand. You and friend Raven have been,” there was a brief break in her speech that one might have missed if not concentrating, “getting along very well.”  She wasn’t sure whether to let the knowing glint in her eye show, but at this point it was simply involuntary.  titansandothersrp (Beast Boy): Aaaand the blush was back. She knew. She totally knew. “…Please tell me you can keep secrets.” He looked at the alien pitifully. 

“I really don’t want anyone finding out about this.”  azarathian (Raven):

“I am certain I have none of the clues for what you mean,” she returned tactically, resisting the urge to burst with delight. To be truthful, certain recent events had spurred her suspicions even before this whole ordeal. After all, the alien had seen Raven asleep on the sofa with her head resting upon the boy’s shoulders; she’d seen the way they’d been smiling more and more in each other’s direction; she’d caught the fleeting glances in combat practise; and only the other day Robin had leaked to her that the pair had been in the same spot, together, just before Plasmus’ attack. Perhaps the boys were slow, or perhaps the Tamaranean was simply observant. But for certain, she was not disloyal. And though nothing just now had actually been confirmed, it would all remain very much hush hush on her part.  “Tell me, when d–”  “Oh. Star,” came a voice from the door, where Raven stood. The sibyl walked into the room to join the two occupants, holding a bag of ice wrapped in a towel. “You stopping here for a bit?”  “No!” Starfire exclaimed, perhaps too quickly. “Not at all - in fact, I was merely doing the passing by and was just about to leave, so please, pay none of the attention to me, I shall be departing now!” As she was saying this, she was also gradually back-stepping out of the room. “Do continue to enjoy each other’s company without my intrusion. I shall see you in the while, friends, good bye!”  Gone. 

“… Weird.”  titansandothersrp (Beast Boy):

“Yeah. Totally weird. Don’t know what’s gotten into her.” He reached for the ice and, once handed to him, held the wrapped bag against his face. Even if he wasn’t sick, the ice felt nice against his heated cheeks. “Ahh~” He let out a relieved sigh. “Thanks.”  azarathian (Raven): “No problem,” she said, once again taking the nearby seat and placing it beside his bed. “What were you guys talking about?” The question wasn’t protruding or anything of the sort, more like just something to say to spark conversation; only a small part of her actually cared for the answer.  titansandothersrp (Beast Boy): “Oh, uh. Not much interesting. Just asked how I was feeling and all that. Still horrible, but better. A better horrible.”  azarathian (Raven): She gave a light, airy chuckle. “Give it time. I give it a week before you’re back to your old, annoying self,” she said, leaning back and crossing one leg over the other as she smirked at him. “I mean, you’re already halfway there.”  titansandothersrp (Beast Boy): He smirked right back. “Just for that, you’ll be the first one I annoy~” He finger gunned in her direction with a toothy smile.  “So, you up for another round of cards?”  azarathian (Raven): Her eye-roll was subtle, but she made sure he still noticed. At the offer, she grew more alert. 

“Only if you’re up for being beaten,” she smirked back, this time more confident in her luck as she gathered all the cards together and began to shuffle them in her hands.  titansandothersrp (Beast Boy): -Four Days Later- Another four days had passed, making it one week since his injury. Though recovering, he was not yet healed. He was, however, allowed to walk around and do small tasks. Exerting himself was not allowed and the second the changeling pushed his limits, a titan was somehow there to tell him to take it easy. Now, he couldn’t be taking it any easier, as he was sitting on Raven’s bed with headphones on. Next to him was Raven, also wearing headphones. The two had decided to listen to some music together on the changeling’s laptop. Beast Boy was currently bobbing his head slightly as Where Did the Party Go by Fall Out Boy played through the headphones. 

azarathian (Raven): Had someone told Raven three months ago that the current scene would be playing out, she wouldn’t have believed it. Nevertheless, there they were; Beast Boy leaning back into the pillows of her bed and the Azarathian herself sitting upright and cross-legged beside him. Though it had not been her proposal for this to transpire, it hadn’t taken much for her to agree to it. Beast Boy was still very fragile from the damage done to him despite Cyborg allowing him out of his hospital bed. However, there was only so much TV one could watch before becoming bored, and considering he’d spent five consecutive days in the med bay, unable to move, more boredom was the last thing he needed.  A change of scenery and a change of activity was very much called for, so when Beast Boy had offered to introduce Raven to some of his music (on the condition she could also do the same for him), she accepted. With the TV currently being occupied by Cyborg playing obnoxiously loud video games in main ops, she suggested relocating to her own quiet haven, where they could actually hear what they were trying to listen to.  They had both their headphones plugged into the one laptop so they could listen to the same song simultaneously. As Beast Boy’s most recent choice ended, the girl removed one earphone to speak to him. “That was all right,” she confessed. “Bit indie for me, but y’know. Still good.”  titansandothersrp (Beast Boy): Beast Boy removed one earphone to do the same. “Pretty much any Fall Out Boy song is good.” He gave a playful scoff. “Too indie, huh? And what would you recommend, oh Mistress of Music?” He gave her a smirk, challenging her to find a better song. 

azarathian (Raven):

“Hey, I didn’t say it was bad,” she returned, placing the loose earphone back in and proceeding to lean forward and claim the laptop. “I’m just saying this is better.” Her pride showed itself in her inflection as she fully accepted the challenge. After typing a few letters into the search bar she hit ‘enter’ and leaned back again whilst the song started playing: ‘Crying Lightning’ by the Arctic Monkeys.  titansandothersrp (Beast Boy):

“Ooo~ Arctic Monkeys! Sweeeet~” He placed his earphone back on to listen. He kept quiet during the song, listening contently. “That was pretty good.” He started after the song ended. “But I wouldn’t say it beats any of my choices~” He gave her a smirk. In honesty, he liked the song. However, he didn’t want her to stop offering suggestions. “While we’re on the whole band named after primates thing, how about the Gorillaz? Ever heard of them?”  azarathian (Raven): “Of course you wouldn’t,” she mumbled, brows raised and eyes sliding off to the side. They soon darted back to him though. “Is there anyone who hasn’t heard of the Gorillaz?”  She had only heard a small handful of their songs, but was very familiar with the name all the same. And the songs she’d heard, for the most part, she’d liked (even if she only ever listened to them once every few months, perhaps less).  titansandothersrp (Beast Boy): “My bet would be on Starfire. She’s only been on the planet for so long… Come to think of it… You’ve only been in our dimension for so long… I’ve had my whole life to learn about stuff here. How did you learn so much in just a few years? I mean, I know you’re smart and can learn stuff, but, really. You must’ve cast a spell or something.” 

“If you can cast spells that make you learn more, I could use it.”  azarathian (Raven): Sometimes her teammates would say something, and it’d be quite the reminder that, despite being extremely close friends for over four years, there was still plenty they didn’t know about each other’s backgrounds.  “Actually,” she began, “my mother was from earth. That influenced me to learn from a young age.” She was sure she’d never told Beast Boy, nor any of the titans such a thing. Why would she? There had never been any call for her to talk about her mother, and she certainly felt no desire to bring up such subjects of her own accord. “That, and Azarath’s culture is already quite similar to earth’s. A lot more than Tamaran’s, anyway.”  titansandothersrp (Beast Boy):

“Aw… I was hoping for a smart spell… So, like Earth, huh? Does that mean I could figure out how to use the toilets there?” He chuckled slightly. “Half the furniture on Star’s planet seemed to be alive. Forget being afraid of being eaten by the monster under the bed; be afraid of being eaten by the bed!”  azarathian (Raven): A sharp breath left her nose in amusement. To be fair, he wasn’t even exaggerating - Tamaran was a scary place to foreigners like them. Truth be told, Raven didn’t particularly look forward to visiting their friend’s home planet, and not just because of the painfully long journey there.  “Trust me, it wasn’t like that there…” Her voice seemed to trail off, mouth falling a touch as she realised the need for her past tense. A welt hit her in the chest at the memory; indeed, if Azarath still existed, and if it was as easy to reach as Tamaran was, she imagined her friends would’ve enjoyed a brief visit.  Gaze drifting off to the mattress beneath her, she quickly swallowed and hurried to move past the memory. “Anyway, if I find a ‘smart spell’ strong enough for you, I’ll let you know,” she said, giving him a light nudge and weak smile.  titansandothersrp (Beast Boy): Beast Boy picked up on her unhappiness. Raven’s demeanor may not have faltered much, but he knew her old home was gone and used common sense. She didn’t seem to want to talk about it though and he decided to try to just be generally cheery instead. He smiled at her joke, a little wider than he usually would. Perhaps a happy song would help her feel better? “Ever heard Ob-la-di Ob-la-da by The Beatles?” azarathian (Raven): “No, but I have a feeling I’m going to,” she replied, happy to oblige the request. Leaning forward again, she picked up the laptop and placed it gently into the lap of the boy beside her, granting him the freedom to search and play the song.  With legs still crossed, she rested one arm on her thigh as the other raised to adjust the loose earbud back into her ear, ready to listen to the song about to play.  titansandothersrp (Beast Boy): -Two Days Later- Another two days had passed and Beast Boy was gradually recovering from his injury. Despite this, he still needed his rest. It would seem he needed even more rest today, however, as the rest of the team had yet to see him leave his room. It was well into the afternoon at this point and he would usually be up by now. His sleep was less than restful, however, as he tossed and turned through a nightmare. In his nightmare, he felt a sense of dread as he wandered through a strangely cold swamp, sans water. The feeling faded as he realized Raven was walking next to him. He let out a sigh, feeling better now that Raven was there. The feeling of calm soon returned to dread when Raven let out a yelp. Whipping his head to the side, he saw that Raven was being engulfed by some sort of black sludge. The changeling immediately reached for her hands, trying to pull her out of the sludge, only for her to sink further and further. Soon enough, Beast Boy was on his knees, desperately trying to pull her back to safety. Despite his efforts, Raven was ultimately consumed by the ooze. As he frantically waved his hands through the cold sludge in an attempt to find his friend, the dark substance began to recede into the earth. Not giving up on her, he began to dig at the ground, removing great chunks of earth and revealing Raven once more. She was no longer engulfed in sludge, but was instead being dragged down by what looked like Trigon in sludge form. The cold from earlier became a great heat as an ominous orange glow came from below him. Realizing his friend was quite literally being dragged to Hell, he continued to dig. Though it seemed no matter how fast he dug, Raven was out of his reach. He refused to give up and continued to dig, even as his gloves, skin, and flesh tore from his hands and the heat became more and more intense.  azarathian (Raven): “Huh. Still no sign.”  “Hm?” 

At the sound from behind her, Raven pried her eyes from the pages of her book to look over her shoulder at the masked man, who appeared to be scanning the area of the main room.  “Beast Boy,” he continued, walking over to where she sat on the couch. “Haven’t seen him all morning. Just thought he’d be up by now.”  “Yeah, neither have I,” she returned almost nonchalantly, drawing her attention back to the novel in her hands. “He’s still weak. Probably sleeping.”  “Guess you’re right, poor guy,” Robin sighed, stretching a bit before making his way over to the kitchen. He took the kettle on the counter and brought it under the faucet to prepare some coffee. “Wish I had it that easy,” the Boy Wonder chuckled lightly to himself. “Got a mountain of case files to go over this afternoon. Should be fun.” It didn’t sound fun at all, and Raven internally groaned at the guilt she felt for her friend.  She didn’t want to say it. She really didn’t want to say it.  “You want some help?” Damn her generosity.  “Nah, s’alright,” he said, setting the kettle down and flicking the ‘on’ switch. “Already got some.” A small noise of knowing left her as she turned a page, but she didn’t look to him. The tease was present enough in her voice without her expression’s help. “Very generous of Star,” the empath poked, sensing how Robin’s shoulders grew stiff even from the distance between them. He turned round to her with a jolt.  “Who said it was—”  It was now that Raven chose to turn to face him again, chin dipped and a brow raised.  “… Fine,” he slumped, finishing off his coffee. “I gotta get back on it now, anyway. You mind checking on Beast Boy? Bring him some water or something, he might need it.”  “Sure,” she agreed with a nod, allowing her leader to exit the room without any further chiding, though she easily could’ve continued. It was a good thing she respected him.  Having saved her place in her book and prepared a glass of water with ice, Raven headed for the changeling’s room, knowing full well she’d just be met with a sprawled frame and drooling mouth. Why Robin insisted he needed a check-up and water, she’d never know. Still, as their leader it was fair for him to have the boy’s best interests in mind. He was, however, much better than he had been by this point though.  The girl gave a few knocks to the door she stood outside with her free hand, but got no answer in return. So she tried calling, not wanting to just walk in without warning. But still no answer. So next she let the door slide open and passed the threshold into his space. Messy beyond belief, as expected. But the room’s owner wasn’t quite as she’d expected him to be. As she approached the bed, she noted how Beast Boy squirmed on his bottom bunk; forehead adorning a dab of sweat, fingers twitching and face grimacing in his sleep. 

Is he having a nightmare? Cautiously, she swiped off the pile of clothes strewn upon the nearest chair and brought it to his bed, then proceeded to sit and set the glass of water down on the table next to her.  “Beast Boy?” She gave him a light shake, hoping to stir him from his sleep, or at least calm him.  titansandothersrp (Beast Boy): No matter how hard he dug, he just couldn’t get to Raven. What’s more, his arms were getting tired. It felt like his arms were made of lead and they were getting harder and harder to move. As his arms failed him, Raven was pulled further and further into Hell. Unable to do anything else, he cried her name, as if that would help. “Raven!” 

He bolted up in his bed. He whipped his head to the side and, upon seeing Raven, pulled her into his arms. “It’s okay! I got you!” He cried, not quite free from the fog of his dream yet.  azarathian (Raven): At the sudden movement and yelp, Raven only had enough time to blink before the boy’s arms were thrown around her. Only a moment passed, a gasp shooting into her, before she took action. Instinctively, both of Raven’s hands found the curve of his shoulders, pressing down and forcing his weight back. With a few inches’ space made between them, their faces could meet and she could more effectively anchor him down.  “It’s okay - it was a dream,” she quickly told him, steadying his form with her grip. “Look, I’m okay.” She spoke directly. Loudly. So he could hear her above his panic. And even once she’d made her point, her eyes pinned to his, assuring him that he was back in the real world - that he had nothing to fear.  titansandothersrp (Beast Boy): Despite being pushed away slightly, Beast Boy still had a death grip on her, fearing she’d be taken away if he let go. He looked at her, eyes wide and chest heaving. “You’re… you’re okay…” His breathing slowed as reality set in. Raven was okay… and he was holding her. “Sorry.” He let her go, embarrassed. 

“I… You were really not okay… in the dream.” The changeling hoped she didn’t realize the implications of his dream; that he cared for Raven deeply and feared losing her.  azarathian (Raven): She sat back as he released his hold on her, relieved that he seemed to be calming a bit. Still, she wasn’t the one to be concerned about; what mattered was that he was okay. She met his gaze with slightly tense brows and let a moment pass between them.  “Here,” she said, passing him the iced water she’d placed on the table earlier. “What happened?”  titansandothersrp (Beast Boy): He took the glass with a quiet “Thanks.” before drinking just about the whole glass in one go. After catching his breath, he paused to think. He supposed he owed her an explanation, given she told him her nightmare a while back. “…You were being dragged to Hell and I was trying to dig my way to you.” 

It sounded really stupid when he said it out loud.  azarathian (Raven): Well, of all the things he could’ve dreamt about, she certainly hadn’t been expecting that answer.  “That sounds… intense,” she returned, quite lost for what else to say. It at least explained why he’d awoken with such a start, but why would he have such a nightmare in the first place? She was fine; in fact, even with his injury, the two had been more fine in recent days than ever. Each other’s company was something they’d really been relishing, and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t wonder what had spurred on this train of thought from the boy’s subconscious. titansandothersrp (Beast Boy): “Yeah… This weird black sludge sucked you down. I tried to pull you out, but it just kept sucking you in. Then the sludge was your dad dragging you to Hell somehow? It was weird… You don’t think it was a sign or anything, right?” 

azarathian (Raven): She saw the concern in his eyes, but felt no such need to feel it herself. Though the contents of the dream itself was foreboding, she was almost certain it held no message or warning within it, and was merely a result of his own imagination.  She believed this for a few reasons: one being that Trigon had been banished by her own power, and she sensed no disturbance in that banishment and was confident in its strength. Another was that, if her father was to contact anyone, it would be her. And so, though she returned his frown, she felt assured in the belief that all in the real world was well.  “No,” she said with conviction. “It was just a dream. Your mind’s probably been restless with the stress of recovering.” A comforting hand found its way to the top of his arm. “Don’t worry, okay? I’m fine.”  titansandothersrp (Beast Boy): He let out a small sigh. “Good.” He gave her a small smile when she placed a hand on his arm. He was reminded of how she had calmed him in his dream with her presence. Seems that translated to reality. “You’re probably right. Maybe it has to do with not being allowed to transform too. I’ve never gone so long without changing shape before. Doubt suppressing my animal instincts is good for me. Hope I remember how when I’m all better.” He chuckled slightly. Shape shifting was not exactly something he’d forget over a few weeks.  azarathian (Raven): “Something tells me you will,” she smiled faintly back, bringing her hand back to lie in her lap. “Don’t try before Cyborg gives the okay, though. It could do more harm.”  titansandothersrp (Beast Boy): Beast Boy let out a groan. “I knoooow. But it’s so hard! It’s like going without stretching!” He flopped back into his bed.  azarathian (Raven): The sight of him being so childish, for once, struck her as more amusing than off-putting. She imagined him being unable to shapeshift as normal would be like her suddenly being unable to lift her form from the floor at will. To pick up and book and read it. To sit on her bed and meditate.  … Actually.  “You should try meditation.” The words just tumbled out of her without much thought. Of course he wouldn’t try such a thing. Still, she’d said it now. She’d seem foolish to suddenly take it back. “It could help. Y’know, with taking your mind off it…”  titansandothersrp (Beast Boy): “Meditation?” He gave her a strange look. “I don’t think that’s really my thing; staying still and all that.” He thought for a moment. If she taught to him to meditate, they might get a little closer. It wasn’t like he had much better to do. “Then again, I guess I can only do so much like this. It might be good for me.” 

azarathian (Raven): “So… you’d wanna try it?” she asked, as if what he’d said hadn’t answered that already. She supposed she just needed confirmation that she’d actually just heard Beast Boy consider the idea of something as static and reflective as meditation. For a second she wondered whether she’d made a mistake; he’d probably be awful at it.  Still… titansandothersrp (Beast Boy): “Sure.” He gave a slight shrug. “It might be good for me and, if not, at least I tried something new. You’ll do it with me though, right?” It seemed like a dumb question, given she meditates all the time, but he wanted to make sure she didn’t just leave him alone to fail spectacularly at meditating.  azarathian (Raven):

“I think it’d be a pretty brief session without me there,” she said, a lull of amusement in her tone. “But I’ll only do it if you agree to do it properly. No messing around or talking.”  titansandothersrp (Beast Boy):

“Aw. You mean I can’t pull pranks and meditate at the same time?” He joked. “That’s fine. Your company should be enough to keep me from going insane.”  azarathian (Raven): Something behind her chest flitted a bit. It seemed stupid, but she believed it might’ve been because of what he’d said. ‘Her company.’ Why did that make her feel… special? She almost wanted to shake her head because of how stupid this was. A little, passing statement like that. And yet in her mind she asked herself whether he’d have said the same to any other member of the team.  This was extremely stupid.  “Oh?” Why was she expanding on this? Why was she making it into something? “Funny, I’d thought we usually drove each other to that,” she said, a playful glint in her eyes. What on earth was she doing?  titansandothersrp (Beast Boy): He smirked at her and leaned forward. “And would you still say that now?” 

Honestly, he was pretty sure he knew the answer. No, she wouldn’t. The two of them had really come to enjoy the other’s company, despite their differences. Still, he imagined it’d feel nice to hear her acknowledge it.  azarathian (Raven): For some reason, though she undoubtedly noticed the slight fall of his lids and lean of his frame, these gestures didn’t quite register in her as they probably should’ve. This is to say that, whilst the cloaked girl would typically recline, or perhaps not even react at all, this Raven found her gaze holding a fragment longer than it should, her breath shallowing in a silent approval as she hung on the boy’s words.  “Probably not,” came her reply, and as it left her lips it was apparent that her tone was softer, more dulcet than it had been moments before.  titansandothersrp (Beast Boy):

Ahh, satisfaction~ He would have settled for a simple no, but the way she said it, just, he didn’t even know. He liked it. It felt like they just got that much closer with her acknowledging their more than tolerance for each other. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you li-” EEE-O EEE-O EEE-O The alarm blared throughout the tower, startling the changeling onto his back. At least he was on his bed. azarathian (Raven): Whatever the boy was going to say was abruptly lost to the sudden screech of a siren, setting the room alight in a flashing red glare. The sound broke Raven’s eyes from her teammate as her head shot up, alert. 

She could’ve groaned aloud at the desperately unwanted interruption. Of course, it was never a joy to have the tower’s alarm go off, but something about this particular time really felt like a punch to the gut. Dark brows knitted together, gaze growing hard as she sighed and stood quickly from the chair.  There was no time to waste. And yet her body begged her not to retreat from the room. There was just something that seemed to be weighing her will down. All the same, she forced her instincts to kick in and went to turn from the person in the bed without another word.  titansandothersrp (Beast Boy): Before she could leave, Beast Boy quickly reached for her hand to get her attention. “Hey.” 

“Be careful, okay?” He wished he could join the fight to make sure nothing happened, but he was still to stay in the tower.  azarathian (Raven):

The sudden grip on her hand halted her mid-step, and she glanced back over her shoulder to see the concerned face looking up at her. The heroine knew he was only on edge because he wasn’t used to being at home, helpless whilst his friends fought in battle. But they did this every day - he had nothing to be worried about.  Still, she made a point to press her lips together and give him a last nod of assurance, before pulling out of his hold and letting her feet carry her hastily out of the room. As she made her way to join her teammates in main ops, her mind remained hooked to the thought of Beast Boy, restless in bed and worried for his friends whilst he could do nothing but hope all went well.  But it wouldn’t be this way for much longer. If Cyborg’s words were true, the changeling would be fully recovered, able to move about and exert himself as he pleased in just another five or so days. And honestly, it was safe to say that the entire team were eagerly anticipating that time to arrive.  [ FIN ] 

[autisticblueteam]

Different People (Carolina/Girlie)

Chapter 2 / 4: Waiting

[AO3] [Ko-Fi in Bio]

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Canonical Character Death, Drowning, Paralysis [other tags on AO3]

Girlie survived Longshore.

The sole survivor of her team, she found herself thrown out into the world with nowhere to go and nothing to cling to except the burning resentment she held towards the Freelancers. After years of aimlessness, when presented with an opportunity for revenge she snaps it up without hesitation.

But reality is never as simple as fantasy. People aren’t always what you imagined them to be.

Chapter Word Count: 4397

Notes: Writing from Girlie’s perspective here is interesting because it’s making me write opinions of characters that are basically the exact opposite of my own, since she’s so negatively biased.

The conviction was nothing if not swift. Girlie barely had time to register her actual charges before she was pushed through the system and thrown into a prison on some obscure inner colony, but they weren’t hard to guess. Insurrectionist activity, especially this deep into the war, could come with a hefty sentence.

With her history it wasn’t even a wrongful conviction. It may have been years since their cell had disbanded and they’d signed up to the UNSC, but their time in the military and working for Charon didn’t erase the plethora of evidence against her. All Charon had to do was plant a little more evidence to fill in the gaps and ONI ate it up.

Didn’t need the lone member of your questionably legal private security force getting in the way of your rising political power. UNSC Oversight Subcommittee her ass. The shit they’d done for Charon was exactly the kind of shit he was now in charge of investigating.

Funny how that worked.

Prison wasn’t kind. The newfound support of her armour had been stripped away from her so swiftly that it left a sour taste in her mouth. Sure, she could move short distances without it, even train for short times, but she relied on her wheelchair for anything substantial. And prisons? Turns out that in practice, they’re just not that accessible.

Especially not when the wheelchair provided wasn’t designed for self-propelling and any requests for an exchange were ignored. Insurrectionists lay low on the hierarchy there, always had; since the war started it had only gotten worse.

It took a long time and a willingness to sacrifice luxuries to get on her cellmate’s good side, get her to push her as far as the prison’s gym. Keeping up with her exercises helped, fought away some of the hopelessness and restlessness that plagued her, but it wasn’t a fix-all. Most of her days were spent wasting away in her cell, with too too little to do and too much time to think.

“You got any Innie buddies waiting for you on the outside, blondie?” her cellmate, Cass, asked after another long, long day of sitting around doing nothing. She was still trying to decide if it was better or worse than the hospital.

“Nah. No one left to wait for me,” Girlie said, laid back staring at the ceiling.

(Sharkface’s heart monitor flatlining. Snipes, pierced by the same bullet over and over and falling dead on their face.)

There was a pause. “Aliens or humans?”

(Sleeves, his neck snapped by the sheer force of one punch. Demo, blown up and thrown into the water. The Chain Twins, crushed by a fucking crate.)

Girlie chuckled dryly. “We’re Innies. Take a guess.”

(Her back snapping on impact with the concrete platform, water in her lungs and the desperate fight to survive.)

“Damn. That’s rough. Least I can blame the aliens for my lack of welcoming party instead of— y’know, myself.” Girlie raised a brow at her. “You are an Innie. What’d you think was gonna happen?”

“I don’t blame myself,” Girlie said, rolling onto her side. And she didn’t, she never had. This wasn’t her fault, no; she knew who she had to blame and they wore white and aqua armour. Cass mimicked her raised brow and, in turn, Girlie mocked: “You did murder a UNSC official, what’d you think was gonna happen?”

“…touché.”

Huffing, Girlie rolled restlessly to her other side. “All we want is some fucking freedom and the right to self-determination, but nah, that’s enough to warrant killing us. I’ve never blamed myself or any of us when we lose people. Isn’t on us.”

“Shit, girl, sorry I asked,” Cass said, raising her hands defensively.

It had been years since she’d been able to think like that, been able to talk like that—but hey, if she was going to be treated like she was an active Insurrectionist again, then she may as well act like it.

For years, that pretty much summed up her prison experience: being stuck in her room with cellmates that were various levels of shitty; wheelchairs that didn’t suit her needs in prisons that were too big for her to walk; prison guards that didn’t care at best and were outright abusive at worst; long, uninterrupted hours of nothingness. No matter how many times she was transferred—and oh, she was transferred a lot—it was the same. Every prison, every cellmate, every year.

Eventually she came to the conclusion that it was worse than the hospital, much worse. In hospital, there weren’t multiple dangerous pricks in the building that could decide she was the next target at any time. In hospital, there was a modicum of freedom. In hospital, she had a goal.

Locked away in prison with no exit in sight, her anger felt more like a trap than a motivation. All of that rage she’d allowed to fester and target itself at the Freelancers had no outlet—but at the same time, it wasn’t something she could just let go of. More than just a driving force, it came from a place of genuine hatred and resentment towards those fucking Freelancers, from a place of consuming grief that never quite faded.

Just as that resentment and grief wouldn’t fade, neither would the anger that sprung from them. As the years went by it only had longer to simmer, to gnaw away at her.

Everything that had happened since Longshore was their fault—that was a fact to her just as much as it was a fact that you need air to breathe. Agent Carolina and Agent Maine and their team had taken everything from her. Because of them, she’d almost died. Because of them, her family was gone. Because of them, Charon had no use for her. Because of them, she was in prison.

It was all. Their. Fault.

And for all her anger, all she could do was hope that somewhere, out there, they were going through as much hell as she was.

Nothing was unusual about her move to the prison ship, Tartarus. Not only was it far from the first time she’d been stuck on a prison ship for transfer, but it wasn’t even her first long-haul trip with no clear timescale. The ship was filled with a co-ed selection of the UNSC’s least desirable prisoners—people like her, who they simply didn’t care about. People with quite the variety of convictions, from what she heard through the bars.

She’d always hated long-haul transfers. Prison ships meant even shittier cellmates and no time out of their cells. Sure, the cells were a little more spacious to make up for it—she was able to work out, thank god—but there was only so many hours you could share a room with someone without a break before you wanted to add murder to your list.

Weeks went by and nothing happened that challenged the monotony of the journey. The skeleton crew wandered the levels every few hours just to give themselves something to do. Prisoners yelled crude and violent things, but even those began to get repetitive after a while. Stassney did some dumbass shit at least once a cycle. Weeks and weeks of the same shit, of the same routine—it was driving her up the fucking wall, but it wasn’t anything new.

Honestly, the ship getting invaded was the most interesting thing that had happened to her in years.

One minute Stassney was walking past talking about ‘hitch-hiking cheerleaders’—Girlie rolled her eyes so far back she could see herself think—and the next he was returning with a shady looking asshole in full power armour. The way he tilted his head was subtle, but Girlie had years of reading helmets under her belt.

He was scanning the cells.

They disappeared up into the staff areas and the chatter quickly focused on the new arrival. They had to be in the middle of utterly empty, open space right now—where the hell had this guy come from?

Girlie sat on the end of her bed, leaning her elbows against her knees. Even on a full tank and emergency reserves, a Pelican couldn’t get out here on its own and they certainly weren’t staffed by one guy, power armour or not.

Something wasn’t right.

Her suspicions were confirmed less than an hour later when some big fucker strolled through with at least five people in black armour and killed the straggling guards.

It probably said something about her mental state that her only reaction was a dull, “Huh. Figured.”

Yelling filled the air, a cacophony of indistinguishable noise that only fell silent when a deep, commanding voice came over the intercoms with one simple order—

“Quiet.”

Absolute silence fell over the room.

“As of this moment, we are the new crew of this ship.”

Someone a few cells down from her yelled out, “Well who the hell are you?!” and there was a pause, just for a moment, before she saw the taller of the two take a step back and the original guy take the microphone.

He started talking and admittedly, she was only half-listening until she heard the word ‘Freelancers’ in the midst of some verbose speech about needing people for some war, or something. But she didn’t care about that, no.

Freelancers. Fucking Freelancers.

She was listening after that.

“…now, if this totally awesome idea doesn’t sound like your kind of job, we’ll let you off the ship. But if you’re willing to fight for your freedom, then please firmly grasp the bars of your cell in a sign of solidarity.”

Let them off the ship, huh? Nah, no way that was as innocent as it sounded; there was only one way off of this ship when they were out in open space. And she didn’t plan on dying today—especially not without finding out what the Freelancers had to do with this.

So she got up, grabbed the cell bars. All around her she heard the sounds of hands slapping against bars, of indistinct mumbling. Some people sat back down, paced their cells with dismissive waves of their hands. Their funeral, she guessed.

Weakened as her legs were, her upper body had remained strong and when the purge activated, she had all the motivation she needed to hold on tight. The sharp, gut-punch of a tug tore her breath away and filled her with a genuine fear for her life that she hadn’t felt in years—

And then it was over. Purge doors slammed shut and the screaming all but stopped. Girlie collapsed to the floor, waiting for her cybernetics to recover after the sudden jerk.

But she was alive.

And they’d mentioned Freelancers.

Now all she had to do was wait and see what the fuck was going on.

As it turned out she didn’t have to wait that long at all. Not even another hour passed before heavy footsteps approached her cell and she was confronted by both the leaders of this little invasion and another prisoner. A man with deep brown skin and a pair of dark eyes that glinted with something inscrutable.

She’d never seen him before in her life, but that look in his eyes told her one thing: he definitely knew her.

“Arianna Leoraine,” the tall, awkward one said, “we’ve been informed—” his helmet tilted towards the prisoner, “—that you have history with the Freelancer agents we’re up against. Is that true?”

Huh, just like she thought. Somehow, this random guy who just so happened to be on the same prison ship as her knew her and not only that, knew her history. There were only a couple of reasons she could think of that would explain that: either he used to work for Charon—unlikely, her team was known of by only a select few—or he used to work for Freelancer.

And oh, wasn’t that possibility interesting.

“Maybe. What’s it to you?” she said, even as she stood up. Folding her arms under her chest she tilted her head. “Gonna let me at them?”

“Maybe,” the small, talkative one said, one hand on his hip as the other gesticulated vaguely. “Depends on a few things, like if you can hold your own in a fight… if you know how to follow orders… that sort of thing. Boring stuff, but necessary. Can’t have someone causing us more trouble than we already have, now can we?”

Rolling her eyes, Girlie tilted her head forward and set him with a firm stare. “Look, you point me in the direction of one of those assholes? I’ll do whatever you need me to do. No questions asked. I’ve been waiting for a chance like this for years, I’m not going to mess that up.”

“Well then,” he shared a look with his partner, that tall, quiet one whose helmet gave away nothing, “I think we have some talking to do, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do. But if you want that talk happening up on the bridge? You’re either gonna have to bring me some armour or send one of your guys to grab a wheelchair from storage,” she said, folding her arms tighter and standing her ground. Her legs still felt shaky after the pull of the purge.

The tall one nodded towards a couple of their men that were standing by and soon, they returned with a chair.

Alright, that was a decent start.

Their names were Felix and Locus. They were some mercenaries working out here in the middle of bumfuck nowhere on some backwater planet named Chorus. Somehow the locals had gotten the help of a couple of Freelancers and their friends. All the mercenaries wanted was some manpower to help them clear out the resistance and to get rid of the Freelancers.

Couldn’t say she agreed with the principle of the thing, but she had fallen far beyond principles. Years of boredom and building resentment had left no room for that, not right now. Not when she was faced with the chance to get revenge.

There were only two of them, apparently. Two survivors out of the ten colourful suits of armour she could never forget. At first they didn’t mention names—she couldn’t tell if that was deliberate or not—but eventually, her prodding got an answer.

Agent Carolina and Agent Washington.

The assholes who fought Sharkface (the entire left side of his face crushed and scarred, his eye gone, the bone implants he needed to survive—) two of the assholes that dropped that fucking building on him and Demo (his arm, gone, absolutely mangled, the missing chunk of his torso—) that fucking aqua armoured fuck who stabbed her, who helped that big brute kill Demo and tried to kill her (her back snapping, so much water between her and the surface—)

Turned out the big guy had been dead a while.

She didn’t know quite how she felt about that, not getting the chance to take them out herself, but…

One was better than none.

“Seems like our goals line up perfectly,” Girlie said, sat in her chair. The helmets were still on, but she met Felix’s gaze through his visor. “I want the Freelancers dead, you want the Freelancers out of the way.”

“Exactly,” Felix said, gesturing his pointer finger vaguely in her direction. “A nice neat little arrangement. You get your revenge and we get those pesky Freelancers off our asses so we can finish what we came here to do.”

“You will be provided with armour and equipment,” Locus said, still unreadable behind that helmet. “You will work more closely with us and you will be guided by the Counselor.”

The Counselor hovered silently off to the side. She felt the weight of his gaze on her, observing, analysing. That look in his eye made sense when she realised he must have been some Freelancer psychologist or something, with a name like ‘the Counselor’.

Didn’t surprise her that they wanted to keep an eye on her, but it wasn’t like she really cared. So long as he didn’t get in her way, there was no reason for her to risk objecting.

But only so long as he didn’t get in her way.

“Alright,” she said, shrugging. “That armour better be the good shit. Oh, and I work best with knives.”

With a hand over his chestplate and mock reverence, Felix said, “A woman after my very own heart. Don’t you worry, Leoraine, you’ll be supplied with the very best equipment we have to offer. Just make it worth it.”

“Don’t you worry,” she retorted, “because making it worth it won’t be an issue. Also— I’d prefer if you called me Girlie. Not Leoraine, or even Arianna.”

Even with his helmet blocking her view, Girlie could practically see the quick blinks of his double-take. “Girlie. What kind of— seriously? That’s a little on the nose, don’t you think?”

Maybe. These days she barely even remembered the origin of the nickname—it wasn’t that she was the only girl in the group, after all—but that had always been the point of their nicknames, they were ridiculously, ridiculously ‘on the nose’. They were stupid, but they used them more than they ever used their real names.

She needed that back now, more than ever.

“Oh right, okay, says the guy who’s partner goes by the name of their helmet,” she said, raising a brow. Catching the slight tensing of Locus’ shoulders, she added, “Not being a dick, just making a point.”

“…touché. Alright, Girlie, congratulations, you’ve got yourself a job.”

No, she’d gotten a little more than that.

True to their word they got her kitted up and they didn’t skimp out on her, either. The armour was top quality and it felt good to be able to stand without pain again, without feeling like her legs were going to give out under her at any minute. All black and standard issue, it was nothing special, but it was more than functional.

Somehow, an off-hand comment to the Counselor about how she preferred her old helmet even swung her an old ODST model from somewhere. He was trying to make her ‘comfortable’, get her to open up or some shit—definitely a psychologist. For now, she let him believe it was working.

It had been days since the invasion of the ship and days since she’d been promised her chance at the Freelancers, but so far there had been no opportunity to act. Being stuck up here on the ship felt annoyingly like nothing had changed, but she held on to the fact that as soon as there was news, she’d be shipped out.

Hopefully.

Until then she was subjected to daily sessions with the Counselor. He was good at acting like he gave a shit, she’d give him that, but she wasn’t here to be psychoanalyzed. She gave him just enough to keep him satisfied without ever really revealing anything he didn’t clearly already know—even when he pretended he knew nothing. Offering up little bits about her teammates’ deaths and her need for revenge even got her some information in return, information outside of what he needed to tell her.

Agent Maine, the big guy, had finally been killed by drowning.

She’d be lying if she said that didn’t give her some kind of sick catharsis. Nothing could have been more fitting.

Days passed by and she found it harder to suppress the frustration. Sessions with the Counselor were tedious and she had to watch her words closely. Any time that wasn’t spent with him was spent training, running drills to get her strength back.

After almost a week of nothing, the Counselor brought her another ‘gift’: red spray paint.

At first, she side-eyed it, wondered what she’d said that made him bring it, but finding no point in letting the offering go to waste she picked it up; it would make it easier for Carolina to recognise who she was.

For once the Counselor sat mostly silently as she worked, using the tools he provided her with to mark up her lipstick print and heart—once on the helmet, once on the chestplate—but it didn’t last forever. Eventually, he opened his mouth.

“That symbol… I take it that it’s important to you,” he said, nodding towards both the work she did and the matching tattoo that was visible on the back of her shoulder. There was another one much lower down, but he wasn’t ever going to be privy to that.

“Suppose so.” Finishing taping it off, she threw her hair back into a messy bun and grabbed a face mask.

“Do you find it representative of yourself?”

“I find it representative of me being a gigantic lesbian, sure,” she said, finding herself holding back an eye roll and not for the first time. Fucking psychologists. “Look, we all had a symbol; Snipes had a crosshair, Boss had a pill, the twins had their smileys, Sharkface had his fucking shark teeth, so on and so on. It’s just a thing. It’s not deep.”

“Alright,” the Counselor said, in that tone that meant he really did think it was deep. “Have you chosen to recreate the symbol to honour your fallen teammates?”

God this man was insufferable. Like fuck she was going to tell him that. “No. I’ve chosen to recreate it because one, I like it and two, I want Agent Carolina to recognise me.” She started shaking her spray can. “Simple as that.”

“So you want her to be aware of who’s killing her and why.”

“No shit. Doesn’t take a degree to figure that one out. Yeah, I want the asshole who nearly killed me and did kill my friends to know who the fuck’s killing her.”

“I see,” he said, with that same tone; he really thought he had her on lock, didn’t he?

She was starting to rethink the idea that killing him wasn’t worth the trouble.

Opting to ignore him instead, she finished shaking her can and started spraying out the design on her helmet. The shade of red wasn’t quite the same but it looked good enough. Bright and distinctive against the black. There’d be no question of Carolina noticing the symbols.

Setting the helmet down to dry, she moved onto the chestplate. There was silence, for a while; the Counselor slipped back into that observant quiet, ever analysing eyes set on her.

She’d moved onto adding other red details by the time he spoke again.

“Once Locus and Felix have finished their work at the newest location of interest, you’ll be sent down to monitor the location for the Freelancer’s arrival,” he said out of nowhere. Forced her to restrain the burst of what was almost excitement in her chest, tense up to stop herself reacting too strongly. “I trust you’ve reviewed the files on Agent Washington and Carolina?”

“Of course I have. And no, I don’t have any questions.” Agent Washington was stubborn and survivable, but he was better with a weapon in his hand than he was at hand-to-hand. Agent Carolina was competitive and highly skilled in multiple ways; she worked with an aging AI called Epsilon and had units at her disposal. Nothing she hadn’t seen before. “No, actually, I do, but not about them. What kind of location?”

“An ancient temple of alien origin. There are several on Chorus, this particular one having been newly revealed. It’s a point of interest for both sides of the conflict, at least one of the Freelancers will certainly arrive.”

“Alright.” Alien temples. What kind of planet was this? “I can work with that.”

Stopping the spray, she took a moment to admire her work.

Striking red, unmissable and unmistakable.

Agent Carolina would definitely know what hit her.

The strange mix of anxiety, excitement and rage that filled her on the Pelican ride down to Chorus was… indescribable. A combination unlike anything she’d ever felt before. Years waiting for this opportunity, hanging onto the idea of revenge with a somehow resigned desperation. She didn’t know if she’d ever believed she’d get the chance, not after Charon turned her in.

But here she was.

They arrived on-location a little while after Locus and Felix had moved on, heading to some big confrontation out at one of the radio towers. Girlie only had time for a cursory glance at the temple itself and the strange bright light shooting out of it before she and her back-up had to duck into a hidden area, overlooking the central zone. Wait.

As the sound of Warthogs and voices approached the temple.

A voice that Girlie hadn’t heard in years, but would recognise anywhere, among them.

It took all of her willpower not to blow their cover then and there, to gather information first like she’d been told to. She had to stand there, gripping her knives tight to ground herself as she took in everything that was said—most of it was irrelevant, but once that alien AI appeared… well, she figured the mercenaries would like the information that followed.

The Purge. Any other day she might have felt some kind of hesitance in passing that information on, but as she typed and sent the communication she found she felt no such thing. Not with Carolina a mere hundred metres away.

Not when the mention of the multiple maps finally gave them a chance to act.

“Carolina!”

Four of the ‘space pirates’—really, what kind of title—jumped out from their hiding position, rifles drawn, firing—

And just like she’d expected, the bubble shield appeared. (The thing that had killed Snipes, the death trap that ricocheted bullets endlessly, shooting them over and over with the same fucking bullet—)

Like she’d ever have let the pirates have first shot if she thought it’d work.

“And that was close.”

“Affirmative.”

“Charon’s here?!”

“Urgh, they've been here the whole time.”

“That’s right.” Her heart pounded in her chest as she strode forward, out into the open. Looked down at them, at that aqua coloured armour that had haunted her for years. Rage, bubbling up in her chest—

Carolina looked at her. Girlie saw the intake of breath. Smirked.

“Well hello. What a pleasure to see you again.”

[punsandtofu]

Road to Recovery (Compiled RP)

punsandtofu: “Ooooogggg…” Beast Boy let out a groan as he slowly opened his eyes. “I feel like I got hit by a truck.”

Cyborg’s face lit up at this, not because Beast Boy didn’t feel well, but because he was conscious after having been out for three hours. After chatting with his buddy a bit (and figuring out the issue of using the bathroom when attached to machines), Cyborg informed their leader that their teammate was conscious. Robin congratulated Beast Boy on his and Raven’s new move and wished him a speedy recovery. Starfire was next to visit him, offering more of the same (and some Tamaranean food that he politely declined.) After her visit with Beast Boy, Starfire made her way to Raven’s room, giving a knock. “Come, Raven! Our friend has awakened and wishes to partake in your company!” azarathian:

“Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos… Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos…” The words resonated round in her mind like clockwork. With each chant, her body grew lighter and lighter as she felt herself drift from the world and into a state of ease. It had taken the better part of the first two hours for her to become calm again, and now she was well into the third. When she’d started, having come straight to her room from the med bay, there was a torrent of questions and concerns spiralling within her. He’ll be okay, she had told herself, over and over, until a fragment of the statement had begun to finally sink in. Breathe. In. Out. You’ve all gotten through worse than this. Much worse. It’s an injury, and we have the best medical facilities and health expert at hand. He’ll be okay. He has to be. Amidst her internal monologue, she remembered the conversation she’d had with the masked man who had stopped her in the corridor on her way from the bay to her room.“How is he?” he’d asked, a hand touching her arm. “He’s unconscious,” she returned. “But Cyborg says he’ll be okay. He has a collapsed lung.” She spoke matter-of-factly, but despite the placidity of her voice her leader could see the worry in her eyes. “I’m on my way there now. Aren’t you gonna stay?” “No. I need to meditate.” She had begun to walk away, when he stopped her again. “Where were you two?” She stopped and turned with a curious look. “Before the battle, I mean. When the alarm went off, you weren’t in the tower, so I checked your communicators.” He spoke cautiously. “You were both located in the same spot, thirty feet from the first attack.” She eyed him for a moment, summoning the right words. “… We… bumped into each other in the city. I’d been at my café, he’d been wherever he goes. I was on my way back and… yeah.” “Ah. Right.” His response was slower than usual. There was a pause. “I’ll be in my room if you need me.” And she was gone. Dark brows furrowed at the memory. It got to her. The fact she felt she had to hide what had truly happened from Robin. Why? Couldn’t she just tell him she was having lunch at the bakery with Beast Boy? She’d have told him if it had been Cyborg, so why was this different? She should’ve just told him. But then… Of course, whether she cared to admit it or not, there was no need for these questions. She knew exactly why. Because if she’d told him – if she’d told any of them – conclusions would be made. Conclusions that… weren’t true. Of course. Her friends would suspect something was ‘going on’ between them. Because why else would Beast Boy and Raven go out together for the afternoon? Alone. Without telling anyone else. It couldn’t possibly be just a trip out between friends, no – there would have to be lines to read between. But if her friends looked, they’d find nothing between the lines. Because all it was was, in fact, a mere outing between friends. Which she didn’t want them to know about. Which she… enjoyed a lot. Which she looked forward to doing again… The lines suddenly seemed more complex in her head than they had been before… In her meditation, her forehead creased. Why was she even thinking so much on this? Why was she devoting so much time – meditation time, for that matter – with her mind on her green friend? Why— KNOCK KNOCK Raven’s eyes opened, her thoughts shaken by the unexpected sound. When she uncrossed her legs and headed for the door, she was indeed met with the owner of the distinct and cheery voice. “He’s awake?” she asked. “Yes! We are all elated and have taken turns to speak with him since his revival, so as not to overwhelm him. Please, you must now journey to the bay of meds and bestow him with your own presence!” It didn’t take much convincing for Raven to do as told, and before long she was knocking lightly on the infirmary door before stepping inside. “Hey…” punsandtofu: “Hey…” He smiled weakly at her. Though he was doing better than he was earlier, he was still in bad shape. He was sore and had some difficulty breathing, but was fighting through it. “Thanks for coming to see me… Just can’t get enough of me today, huh?” He attempted to chuckle, but it was more of a wheeze. azarathian: Her weight leaning to one hip, she offered him a critical look. Just woken up from an almost fatal injury and already poking fun. What else should she expect? Ignoring his comment, she walked towards his bed and looked down to him. “How are you feeling?” punsandtofu: “I feel like I was hit by a post box with enough force to collapse my lung.” He replied with a frown. He felt horrible. “Let’s just say I feel so bad… I can’t be dramatic about it…” azarathian: She mirrored his frown, sympathising with his suffering but also silently grateful for her healing abilities, without which he might still be out cold, and in much more pain once coming to. She took a lone chair placed at the side of the room and pulled it to his bedside before promptly sitting.

“You had us all worried.” punsandtofu: “You were worried about me?” He gave a weak smile. “That’s cute~” He tried to laugh once more, only managing a wheeze. “Don’t worry though… I know I look bad… but I’m sure I’ll be okay.” He kept the smile on his face, despite the pain. “I guess you were right… about the team caring about me… They all looked so relieved that I was okay…” His eyes welled up with tears, but he was too weak to blink them away. “Thank you… for caring so much… I don’t know what I’d do without you.” azarathian: A light flutter ran through her chest at his opening response, though she quelled it quickly. The girl hadn’t been expecting such an emotional reaction from the changeling; though, she reminded herself, the wound could have been fatal had they not acted hastily and urgently. It truly was a close call, and though certain members of the team had had similar close calls before, it was the first time something so sudden and severe had happened to her friend right before her eyes. She swallowed, hands limp in her lap as her eyes met his. “C’mon,” she said gently. “Don’t start crying, what would Cy say?” Her gaze softened as she voiced the joke, a sense of positivity returning to her. She felt it somewhat wrong for him to be speaking so seriously, and so chose to take his part by lightening the atmosphere, a ghost of a smirk only just in sight. punsandtofu: “I can’t help it.” The tears trickled down his face. “I’m just so happy… Don’t tell Cy… even though he almost cried too.” He wheezed a short laugh. “He told me I’m not gonna be able to do much for a while… Would you mind hanging out with me while I’m stuck? …I could use the company… and the calm.” azarathian: An understanding smile graced her complexion as she tilted her head a touch to the side. “What? You think we’re gonna leave you in here on your own? Don’t worry. We’ll all be spending time with you till you recover, or at least till you can move from bed to the couch and all those wires come off you,” she assured, eyes gesturing to the multiple machines his fragile body was hooked to. “Did he say how long it might take?” punsandtofu: The changeling wiped his eyes and smiled at her. “He thinks I’ll be hooked up for a few days… And all better in a few weeks… Call me crazy… but I think I’ll miss a few training sessions…” azarathian: The girl snorted softly. “Yeah. You are crazy,” she said. “But that’s not as bad as I thought. The important thing is that you get plenty of rest. It’ll help with the healing.” punsandtofu: “Like a fox… and every other animal.” His eyelids began to droop, but he attempted to keep his eyes open. “I don’t think I have any choice but to rest.” azarathian:

“Mm. Clearly,” she murmured, dipping her chin and giving a slight smile. It was obvious he was exhausted, and with having already spoken to the rest of the team individually, she wasn’t surprised. What he needed was uninterrupted sleep, for as long as his body required. And being the sensible person she was, Raven wasn’t about to deny him of it. “You’re tired. You should sleep…” punsandtofu:

“Mm… I’m fine.. Don’t put the… car in the apple… husumuffa…” He trailed off into nonsense and gibberish as his eyes closed and he fell asleep. azarathian: THREE DAYS LATER One boot tapped impatiently against the tiled floor as she scanned the text in front of her, temples creased in concentration so as not to make a wrong move. Violet eyes flicked back and forth across the deck in her hands, turned tactfully away from the other’s range of view.

Hmm… Which one… A few seconds of suspense lingered between them, then her lips pursed to the side before she finally settled on a decision. “Stamina: fourty points,” she declared, placing the card down flat on the table between them. punsandtofu:

“C’mon, whatever animal deities that may be out there, give me something good.” He drew a card and looked at it before setting it down. “Cheetah. Speed: eighty points. At least double your stamina points! Cheetah catches up to you!” azarathian: Damn.

A dark brow twitched in annoyance at the move. This game was like 30% skill and 70% luck. Now, if they had been playing chess, however… Raven exhaled through her nose, looking over her set once again but finding nothing that could overthrow her competitor’s cheetah. And so, she had no choice but to relinquish her dignity and reach for the excess pile of cards in the middle, taking the first lying on top. Come on. As she turned it towards her, the scrunch of her face gave way to a sly smile. “Surrender,” she said cockily as she threw the card down, which read the word she’d just spoke. “So I’ll be taking your highest ranking mammal, thank you.” punsandtofu: “Aw, c’mon…” He sulked, sliding the cheetah to her side of the playing field.

“You may have my cheetah, but I’ve got an ace up my sleeve… Well, not really. That would be cheating and I’m not even wearing sleeves.” In order for him to heal more efficiently, Beast Boy went without his usual tight uniform shirt. azarathian: “Really?” she said, “You might wanna choose wisely. This cheetah could turn back on you any minute now.” The girl had the card held between her fingers, waving it back and forth like taunting a lion with a slab of meat. punsandtofu: “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were planning to lure my most powerful card out so you can take it.”

“Like that’s gonna happen.” azarathian:

“Just play the card.” punsandtofu:

“Uh. No. I’m not that dumb. You’re just gonna have to deal with a terrain change.” He laid down a swamp card. “Let’s see how strong your cheetah is when surrounded by swamp.” azarathian: His successes in the game so far were starting to get under her skin; she wasn’t used to losing, and certainly not to Beast Boy. She’d have to be prudent with how she continued from this point on. This was war, after all. As he placed down the card she leaned over the table that sat between her chair and his hospital bed to get a better look. It was another good move.

“Hm. Not bad,” she begrudgingly admitted. Scouring her deck, she tried to find a card that could thrive in swampy conditions. Her stare hooked onto the perfect thing. Hopefully he wouldn’t be able to trump this in the environment at hand. “Alligator. Strength: 82. Nice try,” she said, leaning back in her seat, pleased. punsandtofu: “And it’s boosted by the swamp.” He sighed. “I guess I have to risk my most powerful card…”

He placed down his card. “Megalodon. Strength: 1,000.” Assuming Raven didn’t have an extinction card or something along those lines, his card will be able to defeat just about any card. azarathian: Her eyes swelled at the sight. It was just her luck that he’d have the only Megalodon card in his deck! It wasn’t just his most powerful card either, but the most powerful of all the cards. Nonetheless, there were two potential ways to defeat it; if the opposing player has either a dry terrain card (which would render the beast useless), or an extinction card (which made any extinct animal played irrelevant). Unfortunately for Raven, she had none of these in her deck. She tried to veil the worry in her expression, for she knew she was very close to defeat. Her only chance now was to pick a card from the main deck and pray it was one of the two she needed. And so, with a reluctant hand, she reached for the pile and once again picked the first one on the top.

Before lifting it to her face, she took a deep breath in, preparing herself for the worst. And in one swift, daring move, she looked at her fate. … Bunny. With a great sigh, Raven slumped in her chair, utterly defeated. “I’m out.” punsandtofu: “I won? I won! YE-” His celebrating was cut short by a hacking cough. “Shouting… bad idea…” He wheezed between coughs. He pounded his chest with his fist, yet another bad idea. “Ow… ow… ow…”

azarathian:

“Are you okay?” she asked quickly, standing up from her seat and pushing the small table to one side. Simply coughing might’ve seemed like a menial thing, but with his injury being as bad as it was, not to mention only happening three days prior, he could’ve really hurt himself just now. punsandtofu: He held a hand to his chest and waved his other hand dismissively. He didn’t want her to worry. He just needed a moment, he figured.

azarathian: Clearly he was in pain, and she felt awful for him. Having never been the victim of a collapsed lung before, she wouldn’t know what it felt like, but had certainly gathered enough research to know it was a terrible burden, especially early in the recovery process. Looking on at him with solemn gaze as he winced and clutched his chest, she felt a pang of her own in her stomach. Perhaps she could try easing it off, for the moment; it was definitely worth a try.

“… Hold still.” The magus pulled her chair closer to his bedside, so there was no space between the two, and sat back down. Taking her time, she leaned forwards and took his hand from his ribs, lowering it to his side so that the area was exposed. “Don’t worry, it won’t hurt,” she almost whispered as she cautiously flattened her palm and let it rest against the flesh that he’d covered. She breathed in, then let some of her energy seep into him in a familiar blue light. Lips still, eyes focused on the action, she softly let her mantra escape like a wisp from her mouth. punsandtofu: As the pain subsided, Beast Boy fully realized what was going on. Raven, the girl he’d been pining after, had her hand on his chest. It may have been platonic and simply to heal him, but he couldn’t help the heat rushing to his cheeks or the fast pounding in his chest. She was so close to him… so beautiful. Her eyes were illuminated by the blue light, making them shine. And her hair had a beautiful purple sheen. He could even smell her, a mix of the soaps she used, incense, and a hint of tea leaves. Each titan had their own unique scent, but he found himself most drawn to Raven’s. He stayed silent, hands gripping the side of the bed, taking everything in. azarathian: A few seconds passed between them, the room void of all noise but for their delicate breathing. She felt the vibrations of her power beneath the palm of her hand as the last remnants of refulgence flowed into his being. Once it had completely dispersed, she felt only flesh again, and the beating of his heart below the curve of his ribs. It took a moment for her to catch herself after the process, but once she did she noticed how rapid the beating had become. Letting her hand lie there a little longer, she grew concerned her healing might’ve interfered with him internally. Why else would his heart be beating at such a pace? When she glanced up at him to address the matter, she was met with a flushed face and could practically feel the warmth radiating from it. “You’re burning up,” she said, taking her hand away and letting it hang in the air, unsure of what to do. “What’s wrong? Do you feel sick?” The girl looked at him, concerned. punsandtofu:

“Uh… N-n-no. I think I’ll be okay. Must be a side effect of the magic… “ The changeling stuttered out. “Or the lighting. These med bay fluorescent bulbs can really burn you up, you know?” He fumbled for excuses, not wanting to reveal his feelings for her just yet. Oh God… the way she was looking at him… Calm down, Beast Boy… This is your friend. You’ve know her for years. Be cool. azarathian: “Mm,” she hummed, not entirely convinced. She also couldn’t help the way her eyebrow quirked in confusion at his stuttering and tenseness. “Are you sure? I can get you some ice if you need it.” punsandtofu: “Uh… I suppose some ice couldn’t hurt…” Once Raven had left the room, he let out a sigh. “Idiot!” He scolded himself. “You can’t go all stutter-y when Raven gets close. You’re gonna scare her off!” He huffed as much as he could with his injury. “Just relax. Raven is your friend. She obviously cares for you and you don’t want to mess that up. Just be yourself and everything will be fine.” azarathian: Curious as to her friend’s current condition and not yet having visited him that day, a particular red-head floated mirthfully down the opposite end of the corridor from where Raven had left. By the time she had approached the infirmary door, the cloaked figure heading down the hallway was much too far for her to engage with, though she had recognised her to be Raven. Starfire immediately assumed the sorceress had just departed from having visited their injured green friend. Perfect! Now she would be able to fulfil the position of company for him. Smiling, she neared the door without a sound, considering her hovering form. It was as she reached the last few feet, however, that she heard the boy talking. Was someone still in there with him? She blinked, trying to make out who he was speaking to; she was sure she’d seen both Robin and Cyborg in the main ops room just before making her way to him… “You can’t go all stutter-y when Raven gets close. You’re gonna scare her off! Just relax. Raven is your friend. She obviously cares for you and you don’t want to mess that up. Just be yourself and everything will be fine.” Beryl eyes shot open with intrigue. Despite her foreign nature, Starfire was far from naive when it came to certain affairs. And just now, as she waited round the corner of the door, suspicions instantly flourished in her head. Though she couldn’t be certain of the situation at hand, she knew she’d heard correctly. It wasn’t hard to put two and two together, after all - even for an alien.

“Friend Beast Boy!” she proclaimed, entering the room. “I trust you are in well spirits, yes?” punsandtofu:

“Gah!” The changeling just about fell off the bed, but managed to catch himself. Holding his chest, he tried to calm down. “Jeez, Star. Are you trying to give me a heart attack on top of everything else?” He exhaled, managing a smile. “Yeah. I’m feeling a lot better now that I’m not hooked up to a bunch of machines. Cy says I’m not quite ready to walk around the Tower just yet though.” He blinked. “…You didn’t hear anything, did you?” azarathian: In all honesty, she’d seen the flail coming considering he’d only just been talking ‘privately’ to himself. She probably should’ve coughed or knocked or something of the sort before entering, now she thought about it… A small, nervous laugh filled the space between them. “Forgive me, I was eager to check on your wellbeing,” she began. “Oh, but that is joyous to hear!” the girl beamed at him, but when his question followed, though her smile remained, a certain… impishness seemed to play at her features. “I did not mean to intrude upon your conversation with yourself. But I am afraid the door was left open.” Need she say more? punsandtofu: “Oh… well…” He wracked his brain for a good lie. “I was just worried about scaring Raven off by being so dependent on her and you guys, you know? We’ve been getting along pretty well lately and I don’t want to mess that up.” He forced a smile, trying to convince her. “…Also, if you could not tell anyone what I said, that’d be great.” azarathian: “Ah, of course,” she replied, her smile growing wider. “I shall not tell, but I understand. You and friend Raven have been,” there was a brief break in her speech that one might have missed if not concentrating, “getting along very well.” She wasn’t sure whether to let the knowing glint in her eye show, but at this point it was simply involuntary. punsandtofu: Aaaand the blush was back. She knew. She totally knew. “…Please tell me you can keep secrets.” He looked at the alien pitifully.

“I really don’t want anyone finding out about this.” azarathian:

“I am certain I have none of the clues for what you mean,” she returned tactically, resisting the urge to burst with delight. To be truthful, certain recent events had spurred her suspicions even before this whole ordeal. After all, the alien had seen Raven asleep on the sofa with her head resting upon the boy’s shoulders; she’d seen the way they’d been smiling more and more in each other’s direction; she’d caught the fleeting glances in combat practise; and only the other day Robin had leaked to her that the pair had been in the same spot, together, just before Plasmus’ attack. Perhaps the boys were slow, or perhaps the Tamaranean was simply observant. But for certain, she was not disloyal. And though nothing just now had actually been confirmed, it would all remain very much hush hush on her part. “Tell me, when d–” “Oh. Star,” came a voice from the door, where Raven stood. The sibyl walked into the room to join the two occupants, holding a bag of ice wrapped in a towel. “You stopping here for a bit?” “No!” Starfire exclaimed, perhaps too quickly. “Not at all - in fact, I was merely doing the passing by and was just about to leave, so please, pay none of the attention to me, I shall be departing now!” As she was saying this, she was also gradually back-stepping out of the room. “Do continue to enjoy each other’s company without my intrusion. I shall see you in the while, friends, good bye!” Gone.

“… Weird.” punsandtofu:

“Yeah. Totally weird. Don’t know what’s gotten into her.” He reached for the ice and, once handed to him, held the wrapped bag against his face. Even if he wasn’t sick, the ice felt nice against his heated cheeks. “Ahh~” He let out a relieved sigh. “Thanks.” azarathian: “No problem,” she said, once again taking the nearby seat and placing it beside his bed. “What were you guys talking about?” The question wasn’t protruding or anything of the sort, more like just something to say to spark conversation; only a small part of her actually cared for the answer. punsandtofu: “Oh, uh. Not much interesting. Just asked how I was feeling and all that. Still horrible, but better. A better horrible.” azarathian: She gave a light, airy chuckle. “Give it time. I give it a week before you’re back to your old, annoying self,” she said, leaning back and crossing one leg over the other as she smirked at him. “I mean, you’re already halfway there.” punsandtofu: He smirked right back. “Just for that, you’ll be the first one I annoy~” He finger gunned in her direction with a toothy smile. “So, you up for another round of cards?” azarathian: Her eye-roll was subtle, but she made sure he still noticed. At the offer, she grew more alert.

“Only if you’re up for being beaten,” she smirked back, this time more confident in her luck as she gathered all the cards together and began to shuffle them in her hands. punsandtofu: -Four Days Later- Another four days had passed, making it one week since his injury. Though recovering, he was not yet healed. He was, however, allowed to walk around and do small tasks. Exerting himself was not allowed and the second the changeling pushed his limits, a titan was somehow there to tell him to take it easy. Now, he couldn’t be taking it any easier, as he was sitting on Raven’s bed with headphones on. Next to him was Raven, also wearing headphones. The two had decided to listen to some music together on the changeling’s laptop. Beast Boy was currently bobbing his head slightly as Where Did the Party Go by Fall Out Boy played through the headphones.

azarathian: Had someone told Raven three months ago that the current scene would be playing out, she wouldn’t have believed it. Nevertheless, there they were; Beast Boy leaning back into the pillows of her bed and the Azarathian herself sitting upright and cross-legged beside him. Though it had not been her proposal for this to transpire, it hadn’t taken much for her to agree to it. Beast Boy was still very fragile from the damage done to him despite Cyborg allowing him out of his hospital bed. However, there was only so much TV one could watch before becoming bored, and considering he’d spent five consecutive days in the med bay, unable to move, more boredom was the last thing he needed. A change of scenery and a change of activity was very much called for, so when Beast Boy had offered to introduce Raven to some of his music (on the condition she could also do the same for him), she accepted. With the TV currently being occupied by Cyborg playing obnoxiously loud video games in main ops, she suggested relocating to her own quiet haven, where they could actually hear what they were trying to listen to. They had both their headphones plugged into the one laptop so they could listen to the same song simultaneously. As Beast Boy’s most recent choice ended, the girl removed one earphone to speak to him. “That was all right,” she confessed. “Bit indie for me, but y’know. Still good.” punsandtofu: Beast Boy removed one earphone to do the same. “Pretty much any Fall Out Boy song is good.” He gave a playful scoff. “Too indie, huh? And what would you recommend, oh Mistress of Music?” He gave her a smirk, challenging her to find a better song.

azarathian:

“Hey, I didn’t say it was bad,” she returned, placing the loose earphone back in and proceeding to lean forward and claim the laptop. “I’m just saying this is better.” Her pride showed itself in her inflection as she fully accepted the challenge. After typing a few letters into the search bar she hit ‘enter’ and leaned back again whilst the song started playing: ‘Crying Lightning’ by the Arctic Monkeys. punsandtofu:

“Ooo~ Arctic Monkeys! Sweeeet~” He placed his earphone back on to listen. He kept quiet during the song, listening contently. “That was pretty good.” He started after the song ended. “But I wouldn’t say it beats any of my choices~” He gave her a smirk. In honesty, he liked the song. However, he didn’t want her to stop offering suggestions. “While we’re on the whole band named after primates thing, how about the Gorillaz? Ever heard of them?” azarathian: “Of course you wouldn’t,” she mumbled, brows raised and eyes sliding off to the side. They soon darted back to him though. “Is there anyone who hasn’t heard of the Gorillaz?” She had only heard a small handful of their songs, but was very familiar with the name all the same. And the songs she’d heard, for the most part, she’d liked (even if she only ever listened to them once every few months, perhaps less). punsandtofu: “My bet would be on Starfire. She’s only been on the planet for so long… Come to think of it… You’ve only been in our dimension for so long… I’ve had my whole life to learn about stuff here. How did you learn so much in just a few years? I mean, I know you’re smart and can learn stuff, but, really. You must’ve cast a spell or something.”

“If you can cast spells that make you learn more, I could use it.” azarathian: Sometimes her teammates would say something, and it’d be quite the reminder that, despite being extremely close friends for over four years, there was still plenty they didn’t know about each other’s backgrounds. “Actually,” she began, “my mother was from earth. That influenced me to learn from a young age.” She was sure she’d never told Beast Boy, nor any of the titans such a thing. Why would she? There had never been any call for her to talk about her mother, and she certainly felt no desire to bring up such subjects of her own accord. “That, and Azarath’s culture is already quite similar to earth’s. A lot more than Tamaran’s, anyway.” punsandtofu:

“Aw… I was hoping for a smart spell… So, like Earth, huh? Does that mean I could figure out how to use the toilets there?” He chuckled slightly. “Half the furniture on Star’s planet seemed to be alive. Forget being afraid of being eaten by the monster under the bed; be afraid of being eaten by the bed!” azarathian: A sharp breath left her nose in amusement. To be fair, he wasn’t even exaggerating - Tamaran was a scary place to foreigners like them. Truth be told, Raven didn’t particularly look forward to visiting their friend’s home planet, and not just because of the painfully long journey there. “Trust me, it wasn’t like that there…” Her voice seemed to trail off, mouth falling a touch as she realised the need for her past tense. A welt hit her in the chest at the memory; indeed, if Azarath still existed, and if it was as easy to reach as Tamaran was, she imagined her friends would’ve enjoyed a brief visit. Gaze drifting off to the mattress beneath her, she quickly swallowed and hurried to move past the memory. “Anyway, if I find a ‘smart spell’ strong enough for you, I’ll let you know,” she said, giving him a light nudge and weak smile. punsandtofu: Beast Boy picked up on her unhappiness. Raven’s demeanor may not have faltered much, but he knew her old home was gone and used common sense. She didn’t seem to want to talk about it though and he decided to try to just be generally cheery instead. He smiled at her joke, a little wider than he usually would. Perhaps a happy song would help her feel better? “Ever heard Ob-la-di Ob-la-da by The Beatles?” azarathian: “No, but I have a feeling I’m going to,” she replied, happy to oblige the request. Leaning forward again, she picked up the laptop and placed it gently into the lap of the boy beside her, granting him the freedom to search and play the song. With legs still crossed, she rested one arm on her thigh as the other raised to adjust the loose earbud back into her ear, ready to listen to the song about to play. punsandtofu: -Two Days Later- Another two days had passed and Beast Boy was gradually recovering from his injury. Despite this, he still needed his rest. It would seem he needed even more rest today, however, as the rest of the team had yet to see him leave his room. It was well into the afternoon at this point and he would usually be up by now. His sleep was less than restful, however, as he tossed and turned through a nightmare. In his nightmare, he felt a sense of dread as he wandered through a strangely cold swamp, sans water. The feeling faded as he realized Raven was walking next to him. He let out a sigh, feeling better now that Raven was there. The feeling of calm soon returned to dread when Raven let out a yelp. Whipping his head to the side, he saw that Raven was being engulfed by some sort of black sludge. The changeling immediately reached for her hands, trying to pull her out of the sludge, only for her to sink further and further. Soon enough, Beast Boy was on his knees, desperately trying to pull her back to safety. Despite his efforts, Raven was ultimately consumed by the ooze. As he frantically waved his hands through the cold sludge in an attempt to find his friend, the dark substance began to recede into the earth. Not giving up on her, he began to dig at the ground, removing great chunks of earth and revealing Raven once more. She was no longer engulfed in sludge, but was instead being dragged down by what looked like Trigon in sludge form. The cold from earlier became a great heat as an ominous orange glow came from below him. Realizing his friend was quite literally being dragged to Hell, he continued to dig. Though it seemed no matter how fast he dug, Raven was out of his reach. He refused to give up and continued to dig, even as his gloves, skin, and flesh tore from his hands and the heat became more and more intense. azarathian: “Huh. Still no sign.” “Hm?”

At the sound from behind her, Raven pried her eyes from the pages of her book to look over her shoulder at the masked man, who appeared to be scanning the area of the main room. “Beast Boy,” he continued, walking over to where she sat on the couch. “Haven’t seen him all morning. Just thought he’d be up by now.” “Yeah, neither have I,” she returned almost nonchalantly, drawing her attention back to the novel in her hands. “He’s still weak. Probably sleeping.” “Guess you’re right, poor guy,” Robin sighed, stretching a bit before making his way over to the kitchen. He took the kettle on the counter and brought it under the faucet to prepare some coffee. “Wish I had it that easy,” the Boy Wonder chuckled lightly to himself. “Got a mountain of case files to go over this afternoon. Should be fun.” It didn’t sound fun at all, and Raven internally groaned at the guilt she felt for her friend. She didn’t want to say it. She really didn’t want to say it. “You want some help?” Damn her generosity. “Nah, s’alright,” he said, setting the kettle down and flicking the ‘on’ switch. “Already got some.” A small noise of knowing left her as she turned a page, but she didn’t look to him. The tease was present enough in her voice without her expression’s help. “Very generous of Star,” the empath poked, sensing how Robin’s shoulders grew stiff even from the distance between them. He turned round to her with a jolt. “Who said it was—” It was now that Raven chose to turn to face him again, chin dipped and a brow raised. “… Fine,” he slumped, finishing off his coffee. “I gotta get back on it now, anyway. You mind checking on Beast Boy? Bring him some water or something, he might need it.” “Sure,” she agreed with a nod, allowing her leader to exit the room without any further chiding, though she easily could’ve continued. It was a good thing she respected him. Having saved her place in her book and prepared a glass of water with ice, Raven headed for the changeling’s room, knowing full well she’d just be met with a sprawled frame and drooling mouth. Why Robin insisted he needed a check-up and water, she’d never know. Still, as their leader it was fair for him to have the boy’s best interests in mind. He was, however, much better than he had been by this point though. The girl gave a few knocks to the door she stood outside with her free hand, but got no answer in return. So she tried calling, not wanting to just walk in without warning. But still no answer. So next she let the door slide open and passed the threshold into his space. Messy beyond belief, as expected. But the room’s owner wasn’t quite as she’d expected him to be. As she approached the bed, she noted how Beast Boy squirmed on his bottom bunk; forehead adorning a dab of sweat, fingers twitching and face grimacing in his sleep.

Is he having a nightmare? Cautiously, she swiped off the pile of clothes strewn upon the nearest chair and brought it to his bed, then proceeded to sit and set the glass of water down on the table next to her. “Beast Boy?” She gave him a light shake, hoping to stir him from his sleep, or at least calm him. punsandtofu: No matter how hard he dug, he just couldn’t get to Raven. What’s more, his arms were getting tired. It felt like his arms were made of lead and they were getting harder and harder to move. As his arms failed him, Raven was pulled further and further into Hell. Unable to do anything else, he cried her name, as if that would help. “Raven!”

He bolted up in his bed. He whipped his head to the side and, upon seeing Raven, pulled her into his arms. “It’s okay! I got you!” He cried, not quite free from the fog of his dream yet. azarathian: At the sudden movement and yelp, Raven only had enough time to blink before the boy’s arms were thrown around her. Only a moment passed, a gasp shooting into her, before she took action. Instinctively, both of Raven’s hands found the curve of his shoulders, pressing down and forcing his weight back. With a few inches’ space made between them, their faces could meet and she could more effectively anchor him down. “It’s okay - it was a dream,” she quickly told him, steadying his form with her grip. “Look, I’m okay.” She spoke directly. Loudly. So he could hear her above his panic. And even once she’d made her point, her eyes pinned to his, assuring him that he was back in the real world - that he had nothing to fear. punsandtofu: Despite being pushed away slightly, Beast Boy still had a death grip on her, fearing she’d be taken away if he let go. He looked at her, eyes wide and chest heaving. “You’re… you’re okay…” His breathing slowed as reality set in. Raven was okay… and he was holding her. “Sorry.” He let her go, embarrassed.

“I… You were really not okay… in the dream.” The changeling hoped she didn’t realize the implications of his dream; that he cared for Raven deeply and feared losing her. azarathian: She sat back as he released his hold on her, relieved that he seemed to be calming a bit. Still, she wasn’t the one to be concerned about; what mattered was that he was okay. She met his gaze with slightly tense brows and let a moment pass between them. “Here,” she said, passing him the iced water she’d placed on the table earlier. “What happened?” punsandtofu: He took the glass with a quiet “Thanks.” before drinking just about the whole glass in one go. After catching his breath, he paused to think. He supposed he owed her an explanation, given she told him her nightmare a while back. “…You were being dragged to Hell and I was trying to dig my way to you.”

It sounded really stupid when he said it out loud. azarathian: Well, of all the things he could’ve dreamt about, she certainly hadn’t been expecting that answer. “That sounds… intense,” she returned, quite lost for what else to say. It at least explained why he’d awoken with such a start, but why would he have such a nightmare in the first place? She was fine; in fact, even with his injury, the two had been more fine in recent days than ever. Each other’s company was something they’d really been relishing, and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t wonder what had spurred on this train of thought from the boy’s subconscious. punsandtofu: “Yeah… This weird black sludge sucked you down. I tried to pull you out, but it just kept sucking you in. Then the sludge was your dad dragging you to Hell somehow? It was weird… You don’t think it was a sign or anything, right?”

azarathian: She saw the concern in his eyes, but felt no such need to feel it herself. Though the contents of the dream itself was foreboding, she was almost certain it held no message or warning within it, and was merely a result of his own imagination. She believed this for a few reasons: one being that Trigon had been banished by her own power, and she sensed no disturbance in that banishment and was confident in its strength. Another was that, if her father was to contact anyone, it would be her. And so, though she returned his frown, she felt assured in the belief that all in the real world was well. “No,” she said with conviction. “It was just a dream. Your mind’s probably been restless with the stress of recovering.” A comforting hand found its way to the top of his arm. “Don’t worry, okay? I’m fine.” punsandtofu: He let out a small sigh. “Good.” He gave her a small smile when she placed a hand on his arm. He was reminded of how she had calmed him in his dream with her presence. Seems that translated to reality. “You’re probably right. Maybe it has to do with not being allowed to transform too. I’ve never gone so long without changing shape before. Doubt suppressing my animal instincts is good for me. Hope I remember how when I’m all better.” He chuckled slightly. Shape shifting was not exactly something he’d forget over a few weeks. azarathian: “Something tells me you will,” she smiled faintly back, bringing her hand back to lie in her lap. “Don’t try before Cyborg gives the okay, though. It could do more harm.” punsandtofu: Beast Boy let out a groan. “I knoooow. But it’s so hard! It’s like going without stretching!” He flopped back into his bed. azarathian: The sight of him being so childish, for once, struck her as more amusing than off-putting. She imagined him being unable to shapeshift as normal would be like her suddenly being unable to lift her form from the floor at will. To pick up and book and read it. To sit on her bed and meditate. … Actually. “You should try meditation.” The words just tumbled out of her without much thought. Of course he wouldn’t try such a thing. Still, she’d said it now. She’d seem foolish to suddenly take it back. “It could help. Y’know, with taking your mind off it…” punsandtofu: “Meditation?” He gave her a strange look. “I don’t think that’s really my thing; staying still and all that.” He thought for a moment. If she taught to him to meditate, they might get a little closer. It wasn’t like he had much better to do. “Then again, I guess I can only do so much like this. It might be good for me.”

azarathian: “So… you’d wanna try it?” she asked, as if what he’d said hadn’t answered that already. She supposed she just needed confirmation that she’d actually just heard Beast Boy consider the idea of something as static and reflective as meditation. For a second she wondered whether she’d made a mistake; he’d probably be awful at it. Still… punsandtofu: “Sure.” He gave a slight shrug. “It might be good for me and, if not, at least I tried something new. You’ll do it with me though, right?” It seemed like a dumb question, given she meditates all the time, but he wanted to make sure she didn’t just leave him alone to fail spectacularly at meditating. azarathian:

“I think it’d be a pretty brief session without me there,” she said, a lull of amusement in her tone. “But I’ll only do it if you agree to do it properly. No messing around or talking.” punsandtofu:

“Aw. You mean I can’t pull pranks and meditate at the same time?” He joked. “That’s fine.Your company should be enough to keep me from going insane.” azarathian: Something behind her chest flitted a bit. It seemed stupid, but she believed it might’ve been because of what he’d said. ‘Her company.’ Why did that make her feel… special? She almost wanted to shake her head because of how stupid this was. A little, passing statement like that. And yet in her mind she asked herself whether he’d have said the same to any other member of the team. This was extremely stupid. “Oh?” Why was she expanding on this? Why was she making it into something? “Funny, I’d thought we usually drove each other to that,” she said, a playful glint in her eyes. What on earth was she doing? punsandtofu: He smirked at her and leaned forward. “And would you still say that now?”

Honestly, he was pretty sure he knew the answer. No, she wouldn’t. The two of them had really come to enjoy the other’s company, despite their differences. Still, he imagined it’d feel nice to hear her acknowledge it. azarathian: For some reason, though she undoubtedly noticed the slight fall of his lids and lean of his frame, these gestures didn’t quite register in her as they probably should’ve. This is to say that, whilst the cloaked girl would typically recline, or perhaps not even react at all, this Raven found her gaze holding a fragment longer than it should, her breath shallowing in a silent approval as she hung on the boy’s words. “Probably not,” came her reply, and as it left her lips it was apparent that her tone was softer, more dulcet than it had been moments before. punsandtofu:

Ahh, satisfaction~ He would have settled for a simple no, but the way she said it, just, he didn’t even know. He liked it. It felt like they just got that much closer with her acknowledging their more than tolerance for each other. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you li-” EEE-O EEE-O EEE-O The alarm blared throughout the tower, startling the changeling onto his back. At least he was on his bed. azarathian: Whatever the boy was going to say was abruptly lost to the sudden screech of a siren, setting the room alight in a flashing red glare. The sound broke Raven’s eyes from her teammate as her head shot up, alert.

She could’ve groaned aloud at the desperately unwanted interruption. Of course, it was never a joy to have the tower’s alarm go off, but something about this particular time really felt like a punch to the gut. Dark brows knitted together, gaze growing hard as she sighed and stood quickly from the chair. There was no time to waste. And yet her body begged her not to retreat from the room. There was just something that seemed to be weighing her will down. All the same, she forced her instincts to kick in and went to turn from the person in the bed without another word. punsandtofu: Before she could leave, Beast Boy quickly reached for her hand to get her attention. “Hey.”

“Be careful, okay?” He wished he could join the fight to make sure nothing happened, but he was still to stay in the tower. azarathian:

The sudden grip on her hand halted her mid-step, and she glanced back over her shoulder to see the concerned face looking up at her. The heroine knew he was only on edge because he wasn’t used to being at home, helpless whilst his friends fought in battle. But they did this every day - he had nothing to be worried about. Still, she made a point to press her lips together and give him a last nod of assurance, before pulling out of his hold and letting her feet carry her hastily out of the room. As she made her way to join her teammates in main ops, her mind remained hooked to the thought of Beast Boy, restless in bed and worried for his friends whilst he could do nothing but hope all went well. But it wouldn’t be this way for much longer. If Cyborg’s words were true, the changeling would be fully recovered, able to move about and exert himself as he pleased in just another five or so days. And honestly, it was safe to say that the entire team were eagerly anticipating that time to arrive. [ FIN ]

[mysclerosis-blog]

The Story So Far

Hi, I'm Jacob. A lot of people call me Fent/Fenty, I'm 24 and I have relapsing multiple sclerosis.

That's all I can think about a lot of the time; that and I see most of my life through the scope of MS. I'm new to this, you see. I was only diagnosed in January after more than a year of trying to find out what was actually going on with me.

I've never been a stranger to fatigue, due to being diagnosed with chronic fatigue syndrome at 12 years old. On top of that I've had experiences with sciatica causing nerve pain and reduced sensation through my legs and especially feet.  It wasn't until I'd developed a tremor in my right hand and a lack of coordination in my my limbs in November 2015 that I had any idea something was wrong. I've always been a drummer for as long as I can remember and at the start of my symptoms fresh off the back of a music degree (contemporary world jazz music, to be exact) with first class honours. Not for much longer. Not in the same way at least. Around this time I met my love, Jessica. She lives 300 miles away but I have a car and since we met online a few months ago we've fallen deeply in love. Throughout all of what's happened through my journey with multiple sclerosis so far, she's been so patient and understanding that even in my fearful attempts to show her how hopeless my future is or whatever feeble thing I've been telling myself, she's stuck by me and shone a light on me that is honestly about the only thing that's kept me hanging on at times. Enough mush for now though, on with the story...

The uncertainty of when or if my tremor and coordination problems were going to return shook my confidence, already having lost a lot of my skills. Since then I've barely played, and I've not written a piece of music since either, being more disenchanted with music than I thought I could ever be. More on this later though.

I opted not to go to have a referral to a neurologist right away, thinking it would just go away. Over the coming months a whole load of other interesting things happened though, including intermittent (and PAINFUL, let me tell you) cramping of all of the muscles on my righthand side, often making me fall to the floor on my side until it passed. The symptom I notice most, though, is the reduced sensation in my feet and up my legs. Having mistaken this for another, very persistent, sciatica flare-up, I was stretching very frequently and noticing no real improvements. Even my chiropractor said she couldn't find a single knot or tight muscle in my back. On July 9th it will be a whole year since I had complete and uninterrupted sensation in my feet. Happy anniversary...

Fast-forwarding to when I finally saw a neurologist in September 2016, he couldn't see much wrong with me and took my symptoms to be an exaggeration of my natural essential tremor, caused by my underlying health (my degree and life events around the time had really worn me out) and said there was a very minimal chance it could be something more sinister and if I wanted, he could run some tests. Yes please!

In November I had an MRI and a blood test done, the results of which were published around Christmas. There was a long wait to actually be told the results by my neurologist, but in the meantime I'd had an appointment with a psychiatrist who had actually seen my MRI results and told me (erroneously) that I probably had Wilson's disease - a super rare disease affecting copper metabolism that can cause neurological symptoms. Great, I thought. I can get treated for that, get this copper out of my brain and be back to my normal self in no time, right? Well, as I found out almost a month later, and I can't stress this enough; hell fucking no. On the plus side, I now have a few minutes of conversation to fill with facts about Wilson's disease if it ever comes up in conversation... which I'm not expecting to happen any time particularly soon... Anyway, my GP had printed off the radiologist's report on my MRI scan, which didn't have a diagnosis, but described what the images showed. Now, I'm the sort that will research things I don't understand, particularly when it comes to psychology and biology. Doctors probably hate me. Regardless, in amongst the jargon like "T2 weighted" and "FLAIR", whatever they meant, and wherever the areas of the brain were whose names I couldn't remember for you if you wanted me to, I spotted a word I'd never seen before. Demyelination.

D e m y e l i n a t i o n.

That doesn't sound like copper to me, and it doesn't sound like the telltale characteristic sign of copper deposits in the brain á la Wilson's. And google shows no results for "Wilson's disease demyelination" (Remember i said that doctors probably hate me?). Well, googling demyelination tells that the most common demyelinating disease is multiple sclerosis. Right, okay... That thought can stay buried deep then...

And it did. Maybe it was one of the other demyelinating diseases. Maybe it was something easily fixed. Maybe it wasn't that. Maybe it was something. I'd take a medical anomaly, anything, at this point. But in my head I think I knew. I went to the neurologist's office for my followup appointment January 16th 2017, and then this all became a little bit real. And then a lot real. I'd heard of multiple sclerosis. I had no idea what it really was. I has no idea about it at all really except a small amount I'd read the weeks previous. But there are some sentences you expect to never apply to you that all of a sudden do.

"I have multiple sclerosis", I would say out loud, almost with a smirk, trying to tell myself. Trying to make myself believe it. But I couldn't. Not yet. The only real positive I've heard today is that the MRI I'd had in 2014 to check for ear canal obstructions was clear, so it's less than two years I've had this. But still, it's hard to focus on a small victory such as that when, still, "I have multiple sclerosis" isn't a lie anymore.

And so begins the dissociation. And the reading. So much reading, so much information, so many different opinions and 'cures' and fixes and treatments and advice and research and studies. But I'm convinced I'm going to be the first person with this disease that completely beats it. For a few weeks. And here comes a relapse.

I'm not so bulletproof now. I can barely walk without tripping over my feet and my legs are spasming ridiculously. I need help to walk and my left hand is so slow and cramped up. I can barely feel anything from 6 inches above my belly button and my nerves HURT. What luck that I'm meeting my MS specialist consultant neurologist this week though. Some oral steroids  (first prize for 'worst taste on earth', congratulations methylprednisolone!) have me sorted out and somewhat bulletproof again, but the reality is starting to set in now. My consultant has given me the names of two treatments to research; Tysabri and Lemtrada. Yay, more reading. Cos I haven't had enough existential crisis by this point.

Next come the lows, lower than many of the lows I've experienced before in what I wouldn't describe as an easy life. Those stories are for a different day, perhaps a different blog, I haven't quite decided yet. Getting to grips with this disease and the uncertainty of every day is an interesting task; rarely a boring one and never an easy one. I feel like I could spend a week or so of solid typing of my negative feelings and setbacks but I won't. Not yet...

Anyway, moving swiftly to the present day. It's June 30th. It's 6:00 in the morning and as usual, I haven't slept. My preordered copy of the PS4 remastered version of the Crash Bandicoot trilogy (a hugely important part of my youth, and in the present day) is set to arrive in a few hours. I'm typing on the laptop I bought to make my five days receiving Lemrada next month more palatable. I now own a trumpet and an acoustic guitar and have about 1/4 of a drum kit set up. I'm somewhat motivated to get back into music; writing, recording, playing and the time away from it all has changed the way I think of myself as a musician. I'm actually getting excited about music again. Jessica and I are still together and every day she gives me inspiration to keep living, and for her and our future together I hold on until the end of the day each day. Sometimes barely but I haven't failed at that yet so that's something to take pride in. Time will tell where else the river will take me; piss knows I had no idea it would take me where I've already been so I've stopped expecting the scenic route by now. Life still feels like a bit like being on an unfamiliar planet, and one I'm not quite fully welcome on at times, but in amongst my fears for the future, both near and far, there's a glimmer of hope.