#sitting next to him by the campfire while he has your hands bound | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

soraviie · 2 years ago

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he's a friend of a friend.txt

━ type: bts x gn! reader ━ navigation

━ about: don't know, neither this nor that ━ pictures taken from Pinterest

━ a/n: yes f2l is cool but have you ever wondered about the precarious drop of a friend of friends? Strangeness mixed with knowing, seeing and talking in passing, wondering maybe you should speak more. Maybe nothing would happen but what if. What if.

━ previously posted on soraviii

NAMJOON: All he quite discerns of the matter right now, is that his hands are clammy. Namjoon comes to stand in the empty doorway, momentarily glimpsing at your back, before uttering -

"'Sup."

Those...those were not the words he meant to say. You glance over your shoulder, meeting the long-limbed figure with a tired, polite smile.

"'Sup," you take back and Namjoon slowly comes to stand near you. The hot summer air has chilled into a warm evening and the cicadas are yowling in full spring while the rest of your friends are sitting around the campfire, swapping stories and laughter. You were washing away the dishes in silence. He wonders why.

"You need any help?" he asks, hoping you'll agree, hoping you'll toss him a bone to wield as an excuse.

"Ah, you can dry the washed ones if you want," the tone of your voice leaves much to discover. Maybe because he doesn't truly know you. A friend of a friend is not a stranger but also not family. An awkward gamble played between two social roles, tugged perfectly in the middle. Not friends, not strangers. Acquaintances.

"So, how have you been?" he questions further.

In the silence, the only sound is the rhythmic ticking of the clock and he feels that signifies the divide between who he wants to be and who he is. But what does he want to be? To you, that is. Slyly, he peeks at you from the corner of his eye. Your lips, your brows furrowed in a wrinkle of concentration. He quickly turns away. Namjoon doesn't know what he wants. All he knows is that lately whenever you came into his mind, he felt...fuzzy, for lack of a better term. And in spite of also lacking free time, he had clawed tooth and nail to be in this gathering of friends. Especially after you affirmed you'd be here.

"Eh, same old, same old," you laugh, cavillous. "Working away. You?"

"Same," he chuckles but with hardly any humour.

"You must be tired," you reckon with a hum and he takes the plate out of your outstretched hand.

"Why do you say that?"

"You're sulking when you think no one's looking," you explain, in your own mind, wondering whether you're breaching some invisible boundaries. Maybe he didn't want to be reminded of that.

"Are you looking?"

"I just notice."

The plate smashes against the kitchen tile and the atmosphere eases. Though Namjoon is not happier because of it.

"I'll get the broom," you laugh, looking at the broken ceramic and taking a step away. "I thought they were overestimating your...capabilities."

"No, no, they've been correctly estimated," demurely, he scratches behind his ear. You've been watching him. Have you then seen him watching you as well?

When the plate is disposed of, with a promise to act dumb when questioned about its absence, Namjoon lingers at the bottom of the stairs as you go up the rented guest house. Retiring early for the night, you said.

"Wait, I'm gonna rest too," he calls out and bounds up the steps to where you were standing.

"There are spare pillows in my room," you offer conversationally, trailing next to each other. It's weird. But good weird, you think. "You want some?"

Namjoon decides he needs an exorcism for the flash of impure thoughts briefly running through his mind. And despite having two very good pillows on his own, he agrees. Taking a seat on your bed is...it makes something inside him tingle and shiver. He's on entirely new territory, eager to explore but scared of being shot at from a proverbial bow.

"How long will you be staying?" he inquires. He's full of questions when it comes to you.

"Not quite sure," you reply. "I was offered a new job. Here. And I don't know what to do about it."

Namjoon's head snaps upwards. Moving. Here. Permanent. Geographical moving also meant you'd move into a much closer tight-knit circle of friends he met on the regular basis. Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, his heart is hammering.

“You want to gather thoughts together?”

YOONGI: Ask anyone and they wouldn't dare to even presume this would happen. And you do mean anyone - a medium, a priest, a prophet, all of the above - no one could possibly see this coming.

Min Yoongi, The Min Yoongi, was in the same zoom call as you. Out of respect and also due to the fact that you hardly knew the man, your gaze was kept solely on your notepad. An open page sits there beneath your hand, diligently receiving the inked words. Monday. Away. Shane. Cordially. Bastard.

But damn did he look good.

Although you hoped to all of higher power, he remembered nothing of last year. Recalling your life’s greatest humiliation, you want to smash this keyboard against your skull and knock yourself out. Although that doesn’t happen. More so to simply not draw any more attention. If you were a truly outstanding person this year, karma could repay you and make you invisible.

You stumbled through the front door of your friend's home with perhaps a minuscule amount of leisure and free-mouthedness one would deem too much for an upstanding citizen.

The scorching sun had finally sunk beneath the horizon and eager to wash away both the torrid heat and the annoying work call thrust in the middle of your vacation, you'd been perhaps too liberal with the liquor but you meant no harm.

You truly did mean no harm.

"Whose the little guy?" you tossed a hand towards the stranger standing at the bottom of the stairs. When he turned around, you squinted and went Occam's razor on the situation. Which one was more probable - you were drunk during your vacation or a renowned idol and producer of a world-famous k-pop group, Min Yoongi, was sipping a milkshake out of your own personal mug?

"As if," you laughed out loud and then promptly passed out on the couch, face smushed into the fabric in what could only be described as an expression that could only be made within a fever dream.

Turns out the truth was stranger than fiction. A fact you were reaffirmed many, many times as you'd spent the rest of the vacation absolutely stunned at the revelation that one of your friends was bosom pals with a superstar. The same superstar whose first impression of you was…that. Safe to say you’d evaded him like the plague for the rest of the trip.

“______________,” a friend calls out over the line and you jerk at the sound of your name. Thank God Yoongi was not looking, far too preoccupied with his phone. “Are you coming?”

“Eh, I don’t know,” you drawl. “Because I have to be at work longer than you do, I won’t be able to drive with you and, to be honest, taking a solo trip in the mountains? No, thank you. I'm not made to fight wilder beasts. I bruise like a peach.”

Just then your phone dings with a message from an unknown number.

I can pick you up.

You frown at the screen.

It’s Yoongi.

A pause. Somehow transmitting the awkwardness through the endless void of digital silence.

Suga of BTS?

“I’ve got a work thing, give me a second,” you lie without blinking, turning off both the camera and microphone.

Smooth

Yes, I know who you are

Both messages arrived on the respective phones simultaneously.

Well, as I said I can pick you up. I won’t be able to make it on time as well.

Right. Or wrong. Or perhaps merely...confusing.

Why would you do that?

Is there something wrong with doing "that?"

For every response, he seems to have a question, and for every question a rebuttal. You don't yet know whether that's something to be enjoyed or annoyed by. He doesn't give you time to ponder, anyhow.

Turn on your camera, Sae is asking for you

Before your brain can wholly grasp the situation, your fingers already brush up against the buttons on the keyboard and you're forced to stare at your own dumb-founded expression.

For a second, you meet Yoongi's gaze through the monitor. He seems to be in deep thought...or perhaps hungry. You don't know him, that's the problem. But maybe you can get to know him, or you simply won't. A hitched ride will remain only that, with no further bound expressions of familiarity. When you glance at Yoongi again, his head is faced downwards, fingers numbly scrolling up and down. As if he was still in the text conversation, flicking through it solely to appear busy.

"Oh, please, come," Sae pleads. "It's been so long since you hung out with us. You and Yoongi are practically tied to your jobs. Oh, please, please, please!"

We'll just both have to endure it T-T

You didn't peg him for a T-T type of guy. Min Yoongi turned out to be full of surprises. You do hope they're the good kind.

"Okay, I'll...find a way. To get there."

If Yoongi hears you omit his proposal, he doesn't display it in the slightest.

Text me where and when, comes his succinct order and both the conversation and the zoom call appear to end there, leaving you leaning back into the chair and wondering how he even got your number. Just then, in a manner both alarming and yet characteristic, the last ding lights up your phone like a lighthouse in the dark.

If you're wondering how I got your number, I asked Sae :)

JIN: Arguably you've known him for a very long time. So long in fact many friends had faded and new ones had the time to appear. However, you've never known him so driving by three ads of his face plastered presumptuously across the marble high rises of elite society doesn't garner much reaction or interest. Even when you stumble upon his ad whilst flicking through anything to numb your mind for the evening, you watch it but don't obsess over it. But you do watch it.

Some of his ads are fun, that's all.

"He's shy," your friend had tiptoed to whisper in your ear as you pointed out that the guy nursing a glass of champagne awkwardly in the corner was in fact Kim Seokjin who had modelled a perfume you bought. "Please, don't bother him too much. People harass him too much as it is."

You could agree to that and hadn't bothered him too much or rather at all. Those very few times you spoke with Jin were in passing - between dinners of mutual friends or in the clumsy lingering pauses when you found yourselves the only two present in the room.

Which is why this was oh so suffocating. Pressed thigh against thigh, you had to squeeze between twenty other people to take a picture. He's a bridesman, you're a groomsmaid. A cliche with a twist. Like anyone needed those today.

It seems that you've amassed some bad karma as throughout the whole event, the word "squeezing" is etched into the forefront of your mind. Squeezing to get past someone, only to have Jin either in front or the back. Squeezing to push your chairs closer as the rowdy migrating crowds flock to each other like birds during spring. Squeezing to get into the queue to congratulate the happy couple, squeezing to escape the many children, the annoying cousins, the inebriated uncles...

A wedding is a tight-packed event is the lesson to take home here.

Finally having escaped all the constrictions, fleshy or otherwise, you draw a heavy sigh of relief, shivering in the cold flowing from the swaying sea. Another friend married off, another ten questions of when will it be your turn. As if these prospects just announced themselves...

"Excuse me, may I join?"

You blink. For a second guided by fuzzy logic, you glimpse at the sky, pondering shouldn't a divine voice sound more intimidating and assertive but then you turn and find Jin standing some distance away. Even in the dark, you could spot his thumbs twiddling, riddled with anxiety.

"Sure," courteous, you reply. Jin traverses the sand, slightly wobbling from left to right. Drawing a heavy sigh of relief, he drops to the ground as though all the strings that kept him upward were abruptly cut all at once.

Deafening is the sound of waves crashing against the shoreline.

For a lingering second, Jin gazes at the dark horizon, before nuzzling against his knees.

"I'm sorry," he mutters all of a sudden and you frown at his statement. "You're...you're the only other person I know here, so I clung to you the entire day. Must have been annoying."

"It's okay," you brush off. "I get it."

Silence settles once more.

"Why are you not out there?" demurely, he hums, throwing a head back to the pulsating, multi-coloured shell of a guest house trembling with bibulous celebration. "You're usually front and centre at these kinds of things."

Despite finding it strange that he knew such detail, you keep the confusion behind your teeth.

"I'm not feeling it," you shrug, also shrinking into yourself as the chill of the night soaks through the sand. "Work has been really tough and my went missing-" realizing that you were speaking to him as a friend, you stopped. "Nevermind, you don't have to hear it."

"It's okay," he echoes, casting you a soft, empathetic smile, permed curls flitting in the faint breeze pushing grey clouds in an out of the moon's glow. People weren't lying, he really was handsome even if both his nose and ears had gone exceedingly pink.

Wind rushes through the air and with it carries the unmistakable stench of alcohol.

"Are you drunk?" flatly, you state and he rocks back and forth, sporting a supposedly innocent expression.

"A bit," he puts two fingers together. "Needed some courage."

"Alright," you drawl, rising to stand and he glimpses up at you. He doesn't at all seem intimidating as his fame made it seem. "Let's get you to bed before you'll get the idea to go ass bare into the ocean."

He embraces your offered hand with an offended pout.

Trailing up the narrow path to the guest house, you begin to tremble and immediately feel a jacket draped on your shoulders. Jin was looking away when you glanced at him in question.

"We should meet more often," he mutters near incoherently, entirely fixated on the ocean, though in the soft glow of the outdoor lighting you can spot that his eyes ever so slightly travel your way.

HOSEOK: Warily you glimpse at the blank hallways that stretch around you like a maze, littered with doors leading nowhere. You're going to die in here. Get lost and starve to death.

"__________?"

Hearing the questioning lilt of that voice, you shrink into yourself and wonder if it'd be feasible in any sort of way to pretend you can't hear him. But he draws a bold dash across your hopes with a single casual sentence.

"Hey, __________!"

Turning around, you clutch the water bottle like a shield. Hoseok struts towards you, his manager trailing behind. They exchange a few words and the other man slides past you with a polite, yet curt nod of the head.

"Hello, Mr Jung," your eyes naturally flit to anywhere, fucking anywhere, but the blinding smile spreading across his lips.

"Ah, ___________, still so official," he complains. You're not quite sure if there's a sentiment behind those words or if it's just something he thinks he needs to say. Regardless, you're much too intimidated to delve into it and as such count your prayers to get out of there as fast as possible.

After a stilted pause during which you can't force yourself to speak, he at last wonders out loud.

"What brings you here?"

Travel. Vacation. Hoseok-less promised vacation that Nall promised you'd have.

"You can see the Bean!" you remember her saying. "Lounge around in a hotel! Wander the Windy City!"

"What about your BFF?"

She had only thrown a hand at your concerns.

"Hoseok and I will be busy working through the routine," she scoffed. "We won't have time to hang out."

Maybe they won't but Nall could forget her water and whine for food, which meant you had to fetch both at the end of the day. Fetch both and run into Hoseok.

"Ah, Nall brought me along," you scratch at your nape, catching a whiff of the jumper's sleeve. Yeah, this was definitely not of the first freshness. "And she forgot her food and water, so I'm here to deliver it."

You jingle the bag as if to prove yourself. Hoseok laughs at that.

"Sorry," he sputters, pushing a palm in front of his mouth. "It just sounds like she's your puppy."

You smirk ungainly with him.

"I'll bring you to her," Hoseok drawls, feet turning back. "She's still in the practice room."

"Thank you," quietly you bid, shuffling next to him. At first, he seems bouncy but the longer you walk, the more you notice the way his shoulders slump. The darks under his eyes.

"Are you...nervous about your performance?"

He laughs again, but to your ears, it sounds forced. Quite a lot forced.

"I'm excited," he reiterates but for some reason, you persist.

"They don't cancel each other."

Hoseok was never your friend, mostly due to your own blame but how was it possible to ever not feel...cheap beside him. Your clothes, your hair, your likes, your days, everything about it was normal and he was decidedly not so. You were simply on two different levels and the way to bring them together was to exit from the game altogether. Nall sometimes remarked that he would ask about you but those times were usually in passing. This hasn't happened before. You never met him alone.

"Suppose they don't," he mutters, briefly appearing much more sullen, almost sunken. A shell. "It's just very..." he huffs a short breath full of wordless frustration. "Overwhelming."

"Nall says you make it overwhelming," you mumble and his eyes snap at you, instantly making you avoid his gaze.

"What do you say? Honestly."

You think about it.

"I think that it doesn't much matter how your performance will turn out because you're not going to be satisfied by it anyhow."

Hoseok makes a low sound at the back of his throat, pushing his hands deep into his pockets.

"And what would you do?"

"I would..." you fall into silence as well. "I would actively disregard all critique. Push it to later, and for now, concentrate on just being in all of this," you gesture at the building, of course, meaning in actuality, the festival. Hobipalooza, as Twitter, coined it. "Trust yourself, trust your fans and remember that sometimes the moment for critique comes after something is done."

You almost want to add the cowardly "but that's just what I think". After all, what were you risking putting yourself out there? Nothing much, nothing deadly. Nothing that could compare to thousands of eyes starved to get nothing but perfection and ready to examine your every single movement in one of the most stressful moments of your life.

Now you can't help but feel silly giving such "advice". It wouldn't be too grand of a surprise to see Hoseok roll his eyes in annoyance but he wasn't. He was glaring at the floor. Abruptly he stops and you fret he's going to curse you out or cast a cold shoulder but he does none of that, instead pointing at a door you've halted by.

"She's there," he states quietly and you madly scramble to get away, only to freeze when Hoseok calls out your name. Again.

"Thank you," he offers a weak smile which you return and then turns on the heel, trailing away, wrenched in deep thought. You could tell even from the curve of his back. With a sigh, you open the doors and bring down the very thunders of judgment upon Nall's head. For making you endure this torture.

Leaving the studio, you both waddle with some speed, eager for fresh air.

"Dress comfortably on Sunday," she remarks casually, pushing open the entrance doors, whilst absent-mindedly chewing a piece of chicken. It bobbed in her left cheek. "Hoseok just texted to offer you a VIP pass."

JIMIN: Everyone had gone dead silent. Like others, you turn to examine the stranger but seeing the shrunken stature, agitated and unwillingly placed in a spotlight, you quickly turn to frown at the hotel carpet.

"You should have told us."

Naturally, Em is the first one to do the scolding, and on instinct, you scoff.

"Well, I told you I'd bring the needed plus one and here he is," feebly, Malia gestured at the masked man. Didn't do him much good as you all realized who he was in the whooping span of 35 seconds.

They squabble amongst themselves for a while, until the decision is laid on you, eyes turned to hear your judgment. You were the last domino, whatever side you swing on, that will bound to happen.

"We needed one person, he's here," numbly, you shrug. "Nothing more to it."

Em appears displeased as all hell. Her face contorted in an expression of thinly veiled resentment but you couldn't care less. She could hitchhike far away from your group if she hated to be here so bad.

"He will be recognized," she hissed in the corner, earning a dirty glare from Malia and some others. "And then we'll have to muck up the mess!"

You stop by your friend, giving her the entrusted document folder without a word. Though unspoken, she understood the "talk later" without ever needing extra clarification. The guy glued to her side, Jimin, meets your gaze and blinks slowly. A hesitant "thank you" comes from underneath his mask.

"No problem," you reply cooly and head out.

No, the rest of the crowd didn't much like Jimin, and Jimin didn't much like them either which meant that you were saddled with him. You were with Malia and she was with him. It was an indisputable package.

"So are you...together?" you ask her cautiously as you two were the last one's outside the tents, chatting absent-mindedly around a dwindling campfire. Immediately she stutters, a grimace seizing her features.

"What? No!" she cries out, seemingly scandalized beyond any belief that you would even suggest such a thing. "We're just friends. Nothing more."

"Then why did you bring him here?"

Her lips purse and she reaches to gruffly poke the cindering wood with a stick.

"I don't know..." she trailed off. "He's never had much of stuff like this. Normal stuff, you know, and one day I was raving on and on about what fun it is - the nature, you, everything - and he had this faraway look in his eye and I..." she sighed. "I felt bad. So I invited him to gift that sense of normalcy. If for a little."

Malia was always so kind-hearted. Whenever you began to feel like Jimin was all one of your best friends could see, you recalled her words, summoning each letter to the forefront of your mind and then letting the matter be. And it wasn't like Jimin was a heinous travel companion. Quite the opposite. He helped you out whenever he could, even without asking but the conversations you had were scarce, limited mostly to single words instead of sentences. But life is funny, though you don't think highly of her sense of humour.

"I'm sorry," the receptionist bid once again and you sag on your bag, drenched in ice and thoroughly drained. "All the rest of the rooms truly are full."

The math was simple and judging from the skirting glances passed around the lobby, everyone knows that. Two unlucky bastards would have to sleep in the campervan. And while you wouldn't have to share a bed, the space in that foul machinery was so small, you might as well have. Just thinking of the airless, claustrophobic space parked outside gives you a nauseating shiver, in spite of sensing in your heart, or the sixth sense, that it'd be just your luck to end up there. You draw matches.

Two losers.

You and Jimin.

Awkwardly you glance at each other before turning away. Malia loved Jimin and you like two siblings but even her gaze flitters somewhere around the wooden beams of the ceiling.

The dinner proceeds with lingering tension. You shower, partake heavily in the buffet, drink hot wine and just before lights out, miserably slump to the campervan. When you yank the doors, Jimin, who'd you not seen for some time, recoils as if shot. You cast him a tight-lipped smile only to halt in confusion.

"I...made a bed for you," he explains, shuffling to the side.

"I...Thank you. You're very kind."

Jimin smiles, brightly, broadly, so much that his eyes disappear into thin lines of happiness.

"You've gone completely red!" he cries out amidst peels of laughter, pointing incriminatingly at your face and immediately you find your gaze lowering. Escaping him.

"I'm glad my internal temperature amuses you," you drawl and he laughs harder.

TAEHYUNG: "Just trust me!"

"Ah, yes, the pinnacle of reliability. Yelling "trust me" after every two steps."

Jae casts a displeased side-eye at your grumbling figure, shivering like a stranded leaf in the wind. The loose clothing did little to protect you from the sudden onslaught of unwanted elements, and despite wholeheartedly agreeing with Jae to go to the snottiest brunch of all time, mostly for a change of scenery, it didn't hinder you in the slightest - from complaining your heart out that is.

"He should be here any moment," Jae mutters, jumping up and down from cold like a delirious flamingo.

"Why can't we just take a taxi?" you cry out when a punishing wind strikes your back.

"Because it's expensive! And besides," Jae began to erratically wave towards a stream of cars coming down the road. "He was driving around anyway."

"What for?"

"Says it clears his head."

By sitting in traffic? But before you could dispute it any further, a car does roll to the side of the street where you stood waiting. You had to admit it was a nice car, though you couldn't say much more than that. This was Jae's strangest of friends, bearing no name or workplace as far as you knew. You'd never understood why Jae, a reputable blabbermouth, felt the need to be so goddamn cryptic but the issue also didn't capture enough of your attention for you to pester him. You let it be. Currently facing the ominous darkness of two tinted windows, you swallowed. And maybe shuffled behind Jae to peer dubiously when the car doors opened.

"Hey man," Jae leant down, wearing a broad, dazzling smile. "Thanks for helping us out."

"No problem."

Bizarre, you could swear you knew that voice. Something about it tickled an acquainted nerve. Naturally, as you stood there wondering, Jae was already sticking a foot in the backdoor with no inhibition whatsoever. You attempted to follow him only to be shocked in stupor when Jae casually tossed out:

"Hey, can they sit in the front? Carsick traveller here."

"Of course."

As a form of retribution, you elbow him in the ribs, hard, and begrudgingly climb into the passenger seat, only to have your entire muscle system stiffen and ears ring as you fixate on anything but the driver.

You were positively going to rip Jae an entirely new set of holes.

"You don't mind some music, do you?" Kim Oh Christ Taehyung questions oh so considerate and Jae affirms that he doesn't. You can't even manage a stutter. Maybe if you don't look at him, he won't exist...

"So, __________, are you feeling better these days?"

Elegant. The goal is to sound elegant, put-together and most of all, n o n c h a l a n t.

You squeak a breathy, high-pitched laughter.

"What?"

Why not just unbuckle the seatbelt and drop yourself out on the road? Surely, would hurt less.

You hear Jae press his entire face into a seat to muffle his laughter.

"Oh," Kim The Fucking Taehyung, blinking at you, befuddled. "Jae was just saying that you'd been sick for some time."

You wither away with a smile. They'd been talking about you. Kim Taehyung knew about your cold. Why not?

"I'm fine now. Thank you for asking."

He nods, with a hum, then turns up the volume.

"Do you like this song?" he converses with ease you can only envy. Your cheeks burn and you find enough belief in your heart to pray that soon he won't be so friendly. You tune into the melody, before shaking your head.

"I haven't heard this one. Not my type probably."

"Oh," Kim Thee Taehyung deflates visibly by the wheel, rubbing the back of his neck with one palm. "It's my song."

You should have just stayed home. No, no, you should have just never woken up. Maybe you should have never been born.

"Oh," dully, you echo. "I mean it's a nice song! I just...listen to other genres."

Well, at least Jae finds this very amusing. The rest of the car ride is spent in relative silence, with only a few, well-meaning questions: where are you going? Do you need a ride home? Jae agrees but you think firmly to yourself that even walking back home would be a more viable option.

At last, Kim The Taehyung rolls up to the obnoxious brunch place Jae wanted to burn his funds through and faster than a bullet, you bend your head his way, squeak a mousy "thank you" and jump out of the car, wondering if somewhere amidst the pose you managed to flash him. Maybe you should just move. Like to Mars. Enrol in one of those space programs. Jae bids his friend, Kim The One and Only Taehyung, a warm goodbye, expressing his own gratitude for such help on this fine Saturday morning. Just before he leaves, Taehyung finds your gaze and waves.

"See you soon, _____________! You're funny."

JUNGKOOK: "Get your fucking stompers off my carpet!" you groan, the second you find that husk of a black dot, sprawled all over your furniture, a handful of chips reaching towards his mouth.

"So unhospitable," Jungkook tuts and you roll your eyes. If a year ago you would have questioned why a k-pop boy was snacking and watching your TV then right now it was just a part of a deeply harrowing weekly routine.

Kiya pokes her head through your open bedroom with an apologetic smile.

"Sorry, we just needed a place to escape the paparazzi."

"And get pre-drinks," you note, sternly gazing at the various bottles littered all over your precious coffee table. Kiya can only laugh and disappear at that. With some amazement mixed with judgment you watch as Jungkook shovels the food into the bottomless pit that most people called mouth.

"Don't worry about it," Kiya huffed, blowing strands of her sweaty hair from her eyes. You dropped the box onto the floor of your empty apartment. Your own place. Who would have thought? But who also had the bright idea that they didn't need a moving agency! They could get on their own. Well, ten strangers later and you were still only halfway through. Bodies pressed against the narrow hallway, catching breath and mercy like they'd been through a war. All of them were friends of friends, with the last one running late. Kiya insisted that this guy would be your salvation, he could lift anything and was insanely competitive to also succeed or :

"Sprain an ankle trying!" Kiya laughed but you found no humour in her sentence. At last, a smooth and breathy voice greeted people around him by the entrance, and without wasting any time, the stranger perched your full-length mirror on his back, making his arduous way up the stairs.

"He's a madman," you gasped.

"He also accepts the payment in food, so we're going somewhere to eat later on," Kiya poked you by the side, gesturing to free the space for her atlas of a friend.

A year later, you bore just about the same opinion about Jungkook. The guy truly was a madman. But as annoying as he was, you still were thankful that he had hauled half of the furniture up two flights of stairs that day.

"So, Grumpy," he poked with his knee as you sat down. "You coming to my show?"

"Undecided."

"Oh, come on," he whined loudly and you glared at him, seeing some of the chips stain your precious sofa. "Just because you look like Grumpy The Dwarf, doesn't mean you have to act like him too."

You can't kill Korea's national pride, you repeat it like a mantra in your head. You can't kill Korea's national pride.

After a dizzying wave and a stupid row of giggles, Kiya and Jungkook waltz away from your home, leaving you sighing and exhausted on a Friday evening. Maybe you should have joined them...But the second you drown in more comfortable clothes, the thought of leaving dissipates from your mind.

As nameless movie drones in the background and the silence of the night is filled with the rhythmic chopping of your knife, you try to convince yourself that you're not lonely. You're striving, as they say. You're cruising through life, with a stable, clean home and a stable job. Many people had much less, you were lucky. But the crushing solitude, makes your fingers halt and suddenly you feel thoroughly appalled by the simple process of making yet another meal to eat with no company. Perhaps you should get a cat? Perhaps go straight to two?

A quiet rap by the door interrupts the ever-reliable routine and you cautiously paddle to see who'd come by your door, only to scream when a big eye reflects into your peephole.

"Oh, what do you want?" you berate him but there's something different about Jungkook. For one, he's red like a ripened tomato, and secondly, his expression was unexpectedly sincere.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it," says he, swaying slightly and slurring his words. "You don't look like Grumpy the Dwarf. I meant to only tease but then I thought about it and it may have been a little rude."

"It's okay," you drawl in vague comfort as he guiltily scuffs the tip of his shoe against the ground. "Is that everything?"

"Yes! No!" he pouts in a frustrated manner. "I came to clean."

"To clean?"

Clearly disorientated he blunders into your home, squinting at the sofa.

"I made a mess here," he mumbled. "I ought to clean it. Where's the vacuum?" he began to spin around which foreseeably ended up with him kneeling on the floor, head caught between his trembling hands.

"Damn, this carousel is crazy," you hear him mutter to himself.

"I just think he doesn't quite know how to talk to you," Kiya, truly shockingly being the more sober one, reflects as Jungkook snores on the floor. Rolled to the side, courtesy provided by you. She'd barged in, deep in the throes of a crying frenzy, yelling that Jungkook was kidnapped and it was all her fault, and the Korean government will sentence her to death. Yet when the initial panic wore off and everyone's ride home was organised, she was once again the elegant, collected angel you'd known her as. Jungkook was...well, slumbering on your floor, blissfully unaware of the world around him.

You both sat around him, eating grapes and partaking in some much-needed late-night talk. "Like sometimes he tries to be really cool which comes off as aggravating. Despite being an idol, he's still human you know, and he wants to be liked."

Kiya takes a sip of her water, a picture definition of refined behaviour even if one of her lashes were hanging by her cheek.

"Why does he want to even talk to me?" you ponder, checking if he was still breathing. By the unflattering tractor sounds rising from his face, it was safe to assume yes.

"He thinks you're cool," she shrugs. "Hence why he tries to emulate that."

"And sorely fails," you shake your head at him and Jungkook stirs, blinking tearily at your figure. "You keep sleeping, honey. Don't worry about a thing."

Naturally, the sarcasm goes right above his head and with a polite, obedient nod, he's knocked out again.

When with some extreme difficulty, you manage to hurl him into the backseat of his company's car, he drunkenly grasps your palm into a handshake.

"Let's be friends, okay," he offers, barely stringing together any coherent sentence. Kiya glances at you, clearly guilt-tripping at this point but Jungkook wasn't a bad guy. At least, you didn't think so. Thus you shake his large and bizarrely soft hand and promise okay, you'll be friends.

He giggles at that, nose scrunching up in an expression of pure happiness.

Maybe he wasn't the coolest around you, but he wasn't a bad guy. Not even a bad friend, you reckon.

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twoidiotwriters1 · 1 year ago

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Daughter of Olympus (Leo Valdez xFem!Oc)

A/N: Homeboy is STRUGGLING -Danny Words: 3,021 Series' Masterlist Previous Chapter / Next Chapter Listen to: 'Cooler Than Me' -by Mike Posner

XIII. I Need Emotional Support

It takes a while to ungoldify Piper, Leo wakes up as soon as he's taken out of the mansion, but Piper has to be dipped into the river. Jason offers to carry her, and Ara knows Piper will hate her for it, but she doesn't let him, Jason's exhausted.

He's in a hurry anyway, he keeps muttering something about a trail only he's able to see. So he gets to work and harnesses the storm spirits with Leo's help while Ara and Hedge try to warm Piper as quickly as possible, but the weather's not helping, so they wrap her in the pelt and a blanket and leave.

Jason finds a cave and decides to stay there. There's no way they'll go through the snowstorm with Piper like this, and it's imperative they bring her back to make sure she's okay. Ara and Jason gather wood and Leo makes a fire.

"Man, why does it feel like you're downplaying what you did?" Leo quibbles after Jason and Ara retell their fight with Lit.

"What do you want us to say? That fireworks went off when we defeated him?" Ara taunts him.

"It's the first time you two fight together and it took what, half a minute? No wonder you were chosen for this quest..."

"You were chosen too," Ara reminds him.

He inches closer to the fire still sulking, Jason and Hedge focus on bringing Piper back. The girl's lips are purple but they're giving her nectar and ambrosia, so she's bound to get better. Ara's hair and feet are damp from the rain, she takes off her shoes with stiff hands, shivering as she gets closer to the campfire.

"Here—" Leo tries to put his blanket around her but she pushes it back.

"No." She says, too quickly and definitely too harshly.

Leo loses his temper. "Why do you always do that?"

"Do what?" She blinks.

"When I try to do something nice, you act like it's gross."

"I don't do that," she blushes.

"You're a liar."

"I don't think you're gross!" Ara insists, flustered.

Piper sits up gasping. "Oh, god—He turned me to gold!"

"You're okay now," Jason covers her body with a blanket. Ara tightens Nico's jacket around her trying to ignore Leo's resentment.

"L-L-Leo?" Piper coughs. "Ara?"

"Present and un-gold-ified," the boy replies. "I got the precious metal treatment too, but I came out of it faster. Dunno why. We had to dunk you in the river to get you back completely. Tried to dry you off, but... it's really, really cold."

"You've got hypothermia," Jason explains. "We risked as much nectar as we could. Coach Hedge did a little nature magic—"

"Sports medicine. Kind of a hobby of mine. Your breath might smell like wild mushrooms and Gatorade for a few days, but it'll pass. You probably won't die. Probably."

"Just don't kiss any of us," Ara teases her.

Piper's eyes dart briefly to Jason. "How did you beat Midas?"

Jason and Ara tell their story one more time, but Coach interrupts them halfway. "They're being modest. You should've seen them. Hi-yah! Slice! Boom with the lightning!"

"Coach, you didn't even see it," Jason frowns. "You were outside eating the lawn—"

"Then I came in with my club, and we dominated that room. Afterward, I told them, 'Kids, I'm proud of you! If you could just work on your upper body strength—'"

"Coach."

"Yeah?"

"Shut up, please."

"Sure," The satyr goes back to nibbling on his club. Ara snorts, shaking her head.

Jason checks Piper's temperature. "Leo, can you stoke the fire?"

"Can you stoke the fire please," Ara corrects him playfully. "I know you're worried, loverboy, but mind your manners."

Jason throws a pebble at her and she giggles, Leo finds her interaction with Jason disheartening. "On it..." he mumbles, summoning a ball of flames and sinking his hand into the fire.

"Do I look that bad?" Piper trembles.

"Nah," Jason tightens the blanket around her.

"You're a terrible liar," she says. "Where are we?"

"Pikes Peak, Colorado."

"But that's, what—five hundred miles from Omaha?"

"Something like that. I harnessed the storm spirits to bring us this far. They didn't like it—went a little faster than I wanted, almost crashed us into the mountainside before I could get them back in the bag. I'm not going to be trying that again."

"Why are we here?"

"That's what I asked," Leo glances at Jason grumpily. "But they're keeping secrets now, giggling at each other and using nicknames..."

"That glittery wind trail we saw yesterday?" Jason continues, ignoring his friend's bad mood. "It was still in the sky, though it had faded a lot. I followed it until I couldn't see it anymore. Then—honestly I'm not sure. I just felt like this was the right place to stop."

"'Course it is." Hedge points up. "Aeolus's floating palace should be anchored above us, right at the peak. This is one of his favorite spots to dock."

"Maybe that was it. I don't know. Something else, too..."

"The Hunters were heading west," Piper notes. "Do you think they're around here?"

Jason and Ara share a look. The boy rubs the arm that's got the Roman tattoo. "I don't see how anyone could survive on the mountain right now. The storm's pretty bad. It's already the evening before the solstice, but we didn't have much choice except to wait out the storm here. We had to give you some time to rest before we tried moving."

"The hunters can survive this and more. Besides, hope is not lost until the last second of the solstice. Quests usually unfold swiftly by the time we're three hours away from the deadline," Ara shrugs, a little shiver escaping her. "Fates are like that—and that's a compliment!" She yells at the ceiling.

"We have to get you warm," Jason settles next to Piper and opens his arms awkwardly. "Uh, you mind if I..."

"I suppose..." The girl tries to sound casual, but Ara sees a faint teal color illuminate her sister's skin.

Ara catches Jason's eye, and she bites her lip to stop herself from making any kind of comment. When she looks away, Leo's eyes are on her too. He's frowning, and there's a cute pout on his lips. As soon as they lock eyes, he looks away and pulls out cooking supplies from his tool belt.

"So, guys, long as you're cuddled up for story time... something I've been meaning to tell you. On the way to Omaha, I had this dream. Kinda hard to understand with the static and the Wheel of Fortune breaking in—"

"Wheel of Fortune ?"

"The thing is," he glances at Ara, "my dad Hephaestus talked to me."

Leo did not have a happy first encounter with his father, but being fair, most demigods don't. Ara remembers the first time she talked to her mother.

Percy has a fountain in his cabin to stay in touch with Tyson and Mom. I try to contact him, to tell him how dangerous it is for Bianca to be out there. I toss a coin and hope I'm not catching him in a bad moment.

"My bundle of joy!" Aphrodite's face shows up first. "What a wonderful surprise!"

"Mom?!" I choke.

It should be mentioned that she treats all of her children equally, which means I'm ignored, like the rest. It annoys me that Percy gets to talk to my mother. At the same time though, everyone wants to meet him, and most times that's not in a friendly way.

Mother smiles at me, but I don't like how it feels. "You're here to ask about training? You sweat too much—"

"What?" Percy looks at me. "What training?"

"Sweat is completely normal!" I reply, ignoring Percy's questions.

Aphrodite squints. "You could try to look better while doing it, don't you think?"

"One problem at a time," I glare at her. "I need a minute with my brother."

"Well, Percy, you're popular amongst the Aphrodites tonight!" I have to admit, I like it when someone refers to me as an Aphrodite, especially the goddess herself. "Don't you trust me, Ara?"

"Yeah, Ara," Percy looks at me urgently. "She said she's gonna give me a love full of anguish and indecision, isn't that cool? I'm sure you have nothing to say against that, huh?"

"Mom, he's got a prophecy to fulfill, don't you think that's bad enough?" I say in disapproval.

"Oh, but it's not me," even frowning she looks pretty, "this comes in the package. Love makes prophecies go 'round..." Her eyes are less playful. "You have your own to worry about."

"What?"

My mom sighs. "Forget it, I want you to experience it how it's supposed to."

I look at Percy, then back at my mom. "Fine," I try to focus. "There's a problem with..." My eyes dart to my mother briefly. I go back to Percy. "You need to pay attention to—What?"

My mother's looking at me with teary eyes. "They could've chosen another boy, he is so much like his father!" She whines.

I turn to Percy sick of my mother's rambling. "Just don't break the promise you made to Nico, okay?"

Percy frowns, probably wanting to reply with "Why don't you stick my promise up your...", but he must've noticed how frustrated I am, 'cause he says none of that.

"Look after him," he answers. "Tell Nico his sister says hi."

"The gods hate needing humans. They like to be needed by humans, but not the other way around. Things will have to get a whole lot worse before Zeus admits he made a mistake closing Olympus."

"Coach," Piper stares at him, "that was almost an intelligent comment."

"What? I'm intelligent! I'm not surprised you cupcakes haven't heard of the Giant War. The gods don't like to talk about it. Bad PR to admit you needed mortals to help beat an enemy. That's just embarrassing."

"There's more, though," Jason adds. "When I dreamed about Hera in her cage, she said Zeus was acting unusually paranoid. And Hera—she said she went to those ruins because a voice had been speaking in her head. What if someone's influencing the gods, like Medea influenced us?"

"Yeah, Hephaestus said something similar, like Zeus was acting weirder than usual. But what bothered me was the stuff my dad didn't say. Like a couple of times he was talking about the demigods, and how he had so many kids and all.

I don't know. He acted like getting the greatest demigods together was going to be almost impossible—like Hera was trying, but it was a really stupid thing to do, and there was some secret Hephaestus wasn't supposed to tell me."

"Chiron was the same way back at camp. He mentioned a sacred oath not to discuss—something. Coach, you know anything about that?"

"Nah. I'm just a satyr. They don't tell us the juicy stuff. Especially an old..." He pauses and blushes.

"An old guy like you?" Piper guesses. "But you're not that old, are you?"

"Hundred and six," he mumbles.

Leo chokes. "Say what?"

"Don't catch your panties on fire, Valdez. That's just fifty-three in human years. Still, yeah, I made some enemies on the Council of Cloven Elders. I've been a protector a long time. But they started saying I was getting unpredictable. Too violent. Can you imagine?"

"Wow. That's hard to believe."

Ara clears her throat. "Hedge, you tried to fight them..."

"Yeah, because they sent me to the Canadian frontier during the war! I should've been with you! Blowing up monsters around the city—"

"Don't say it like that!" Ara says, scowling at the satyr. "It was a last resource, not my number one plan!"

"Then after the war, they put me out to pasture," he continues heatedly. "The Wilderness School. Bah! Like I'm too old to be helpful just because I like playing offense. All those flower-pickers on the Council—talking about nature."

"I thought satyrs liked nature," Piper replies.

"Shoot, I love nature! Nature means big things killing and eating little things! And when you're a —you know—vertically challenged satyr like me, you get in good shape, you carry a big stick, and you don't take nothing from no one! That's nature."

"As Grover explained to you last summer, nature is also taking a step back to let new pastures grow," Ara reminds him. She likes Hedge, and it frustrates her that he refuses to retire.

He spits splinters into the fire and makes a face. "Flower-pickers. Anyway, I hope you got something vegetarian cooking, Valdez. I don't do flesh."

"Yeah, Coach. Don't eat your cudgel," Leo replies in a better mood now, after Coach's disdain towards Ara's scolding. "I got some tofu patties here. Piper's a vegetarian too. I'll throw them on in a second."

No one asked her because Hedge distracted them, thank Pan, but she has no clue what she's supposed to be doing as the leader of not one, but two armies. There are a few moments she would like to skip, the deaths, the arguments with friends, and the doubt.

Ara hates that at some point she'll start doubting her loved ones, even if she's capable of seeing through facades. The girl sighs, rubbing her forehead. She could use a nap, but she's also hungry and cold, so maybe she'll eat first, and sleep second.

"We need to talk," Piper speaks as they start eating. "I don't want to hide anything from you guys anymore. Three nights before the Grand Canyon trip, I had a dream vision—a giant, telling me my father had been taken hostage. He told me I had to cooperate, or my dad would be killed."

The group remains silent as they take the news, Jason's the first to speak. "Enceladus? You mentioned that name before."

Hedge whistles quietly. "Big giant. Breathes fire. Not somebody I'd want barbecuing my daddy goat."

"Hedge, if it isn't positive affirmation, keep it to yourself," Ara grumbles. "You sound like Mr. D... and don't take that as a compliment."

"Piper, go on," Jason encourages her. "What happened next?"

"I—I tried to reach my dad, but all I got was his personal assistant, and she told me not to worry."

"Jane?" Leo asks. "Didn't Medea say something about controlling her?"

Piper nods. "To get my dad back, I had to sabotage this quest. I didn't realize it would be the three of us and Ara. Then after we started the quest, Enceladus sent me another warning: He told me he wanted you three dead.

He wants me to lead you to a mountain. I don't know exactly which one, but it's in the Bay Area—I could see the Golden Gate Bridge from the summit. I have to be there by noon on the solstice, tomorrow. An exchange."

"God, Piper. I'm so sorry," Jason holds her.

"No kidding," Leo raises a brow. "You've been carrying this around for a week? Piper, we could help you."

"Why don't you yell at me or something?" Piper tears up. "I was ordered to kill you!"

"Aw, come on," Jason replies. "You've saved us on this quest. I'd put my life in your hands any day."

"Same. Can I have a hug too?"

Ara knows Leo's not talking to her, but she holds onto his arm, pressing her cheek on his shoulder. Leo doesn't have time to speak or process her actions before Piper starts crying for real.

"You don't get it! I've probably just killed my dad, telling you this—"

"I doubt it." Hedge replies calmly. "Giant hasn't gotten what he wants yet, so he still needs your dad for leverage. He'll wait until the deadline passes, see if you show up. He wants you to divert the quest to this mountain, right?"

Piper nods, hastily drying her tears.

"So that means Hera is being kept somewhere else. And she has to be saved by the same day. So you have to choose—rescue your dad, or rescue Hera. If you go after Hera, then Enceladus takes care of your dad. Besides, Enceladus would never let you go even if you cooperated. You're obviously one of the seven in the Great Prophecy."

Ara shivers again, Leo slips his arm out of her grip and moves his blanket so it covers both of them. She doesn't put up a fight this time, Ara's supposed to look after them, so she has to gain their trust in order to do so... Which is a weak excuse to get closer to Leo without feeling guilty.

Gods, she hopes to be the one who dies this time around, at least.

"So we have no choice," Piper continues with dismay. "We have to save Hera, or the giant king gets unleashed. That's our quest. The world depends on it. And Enceladus seems to have ways of watching me. He isn't stupid. He'll know if we change course and go the wrong way. He'll kill my dad."

"He's not going to kill your dad," Leo assures her. "We'll save him."

"We don't have time! Besides, it's a trap..."

"It's only a trap if you don't know what's happening," Ara's hand sneaks inside the pocket of Leo's army jacket, which is wonderfully warm. "Now it's turned into a double quest, and not to toot my own horn, but I'm pretty good at those."

"We're your friends, beauty queen," Leo agrees. "We're not going to let your dad die. We just gotta figure out a plan."

"Would help if we knew where this mountain was," Hedge huffs. "Maybe Aeolus can tell you that. The Bay Area has a bad reputation for demigods. Old home of the Titans, Mount Othrys, sits over Mount Tam, where Atlas holds up the sky. I hope that's not the mountain you saw."

Ara didn't go on that quest cause she was with Nico, but she remembers Percy's stories and she would love to stay away.

"I don't think so," Piper replies. "This was inland."

"Bad reputation..." Jason mutters, "that doesn't seem right. The Bay Area..."

"You think you've been there?" Piper questions.

"I... I don't know. Hedge, what happened to Mount Othrys?"

"Well, Kronos built a new palace there last summer. Big nasty place, was going to be the headquarters for his new kingdom and all. Weren't any battles there, though. Kronos marched on Manhattan, tried to take Olympus. If I remember right, he left some other Titans in charge of his palace, but after Kronos got defeated in Manhattan, the whole palace just crumbled on its own."

"No," Jason says right away.

"What do you mean, 'No'?" Leo frowns.

"That's not what happened. I... Did you hear that?"

Everyone stares at the cave's entrance. The wind carries loud, feisty howling.

Next Chapter ->

Taglist.

@siriuslysirius1107 @ask-giggles1303 @ash-the-hoarder @im-planning-something-look @bandshirts-andbooks @coolninjapaper @thewaterlily @whenisthefall @1randomcomic @you-bloody-shank @sunflowergraves @owlalex44 @taylordaughter @typicalsolangelolover @writingmia @espressopatronum454 @slytherinnqueen

#twoidiots writing #pjo fanfic #pjo hoo toa #pjo fandom #percy jackson and the olympians #leo valdez x oc #leo valdez fanfic #heroes of olympus #doo

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yoongsgguktae · 4 years ago

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paddle with me 01 | jjk

summary; when your camp leader forces you and jeongguk as partners in a team building activity. with frustrations and anger flaring during your journey down the river, how will all this pent-up emotion get released? pairing; jeongguk x reader genre; campcounselor!au, e2l, pwp, smut rating; M (18+) word count; 16.3k+ warnings; mentions of alcohol, sexual tension, passive-aggressive insults, cussing, emasculating, outdoor intercourse, unprotected sex (f on birth control, but still wrap it up), power play, slight degradation, oral sex (f + m receiving), fingering, face fcking, edging, nibbling of private parts (don’t worry, it’s not that bad), spanking, spitting, anal play, bound hands (with clothing), aftercare

betas; this wouldn’t have been complete without the help of my friends @taestybae @nightowls388 and @jinpanman. truly, i don’t know where i’d be without their help. they are all amazing writers and even greater friends. 💜

MASTERLIST READ ON AO3

PART 2

—

The fire crackles as the pile of wood burns a few feet away, close enough for Jeongguk to feel the heat radiating from the bonfire against his skin. His now lukewarm beer struggles to go down as the taste is no longer pleasant, his face scrunches up in disgust at the flavor. He's been lazily taking sips for the past hour, letting it run warm and gross while being absorbed in the conversation around him.

The lawn chair squeaks beneath Jeongguk’s weight as he leans back, getting more comfortable and relaxing into his seat. A weightlessness settles over his body as the beer infuses him with warmth from within.

He's waited all year to be back here.

For the most part, camp was an escape for him. An escape from his chaotic life as a university student and overbearing parents. As an only child, their expectations of him were set at a ridiculous standard since the moment he entered high school. He was expected to go to a prestigious university, get the best grade and graduate with a high salary job. Because of this, he’s never had time to be his own person. To participate in that ‘self-discovery’ phase people his age go through while in college.

Being a camp counselor started off as an obligation, something to put in his resume for college applications. Apparently it shows leadership and time management skills as his mother would always say. But over several years, it has become more than that.

Jeongguk has met some of his long life friends here, people he has felt more comfortable being around than the friends he grew up with back in his hometown. People at camp treat him as an equal rather than use him for social gain due to his family's status. He’s never had to second guess his relationships here.

Camp became a place where he was able to do more soul searching, to be around people who bring the best—and in some cases the worst—out of him. They have become one big family and he is going to miss these moments—especially ones like these on a calm summer night.

Moments where he can relax in their presence and empty his mind of all concerns and worries of the future. He loves spending his vacations with his friends from camp. The following summers won’t be the same as he graduates with his masters degree next spring, making this his last as a free man before his parents expect him to get a corporate job.

The old group of friends sit over their drinks smiling like children as they relish being in each other’s company once again. Their voices are drowned out by the chorus of crickets and frogs that surround them as they lounge by the fire. Nights at camp are filled with their songs, the rhythmic sounds echo under the stars unpolluted by the city lights he is used to; a reassurance that summer has arrived and is here to stay.

He is pulled out of his thoughts when the group starts cheering loudly. The sudden commotion of footsteps interrupts the subdued atmosphere around the campfire, taking his mind off the memories of his years at camp.

Jeongguk peers up, wondering what the fuss is all about until he sees you in the distance running towards them. He almost forgot what you looked like, he came close to pushing you out of his memory forever, burning it away like the marshmallow he’s been roasting in the fire before him. His grip on the stick tightens, thoughts swirling around his head so quickly he can’t think straight. An uncomfortable knot forms in his stomach as you get closer.

You approach the circle with a big smile on your face, out of breath after running the short distance from your car. "Hey everyone!" Your luggage is thrown unceremoniously on the ground. One of the counselors move over to give you space to sit as they all respond with hellos, welcoming you with warm smiles and cheers. The group may have been apart for a year, but they easily fall back into place once reunited, as if summer never ended and they never left camp.

Jeongguk glances back to the burnt marshmallow at the end of his stick, his eyes unfocused and the cheers become muffled as he takes in the surprise of your arrival. He wasn't expecting to see you this year. He heard from Namjoon that you weren't going to make it this summer, said something about you getting an internship, that camp wasn’t going to be the same without you.

However, Jeongguk was relieved at the possibility of not having to see you again, like a weight was lifted off his shoulders. For reasons unbeknownst to him, you are adored by everyone, the counselors were all disappointed at the news.

Jeongguk reaches for his marshmallow, eyes catching Taehyung’s as he tosses it into the fire. Taehyung regards him with what looks like pity in his eyes, a silent nod in his direction. He’s the only person Jeongguk trusts with his true feelings towards you. He wouldn't dare tell anyone else about how badly you get him worked up, he doesn't want to look weak in front of the others and show how much you affect him.

"We're glad you made it this year," Namjoon says, raising his almost empty can towards you in salute, a very campfire style welcome.

"I'm very happy to be back. I ended up turning down the internship. It wasn't what I was expecting." You reach in the cooler beside you to grab a cold beer, not waiting another minute to settle in.

You crack the tab open, taking a slurp to skim off the top, and immediately you feel right at home as the taste of the beer rests on your tongue. The heat radiating off the fire and the sounds of the grasshoppers chirping in the late summer night brings you comfort, this is where you’d rather spend your summer.

You look around the group now that you’ve situated yourself, seeing all familiar faces. Your eyes quickly glance over to Jeongguk before you revert your attention back to Namjoon when you catch him looking at your direction. "Plus, I miss everyone, and since this is my last summer before entering the corporate world I wanted to spend it with all of you.”

Jimin shoves one of your shoulders playfully. "You're such a sap."

The glowing smile you give him sends a spark of annoyance through Jeongguk as Jimin's hand lingers on you, way longer than necessary. His gaze is heavy on how his hand squeezes your shoulder, thumb rubbing circles against your skin. Why is he still touching you?

"More like a brown nose," Jeongguk mutters under his breath, lowering his head and suddenly taking interest in his shoes. The words taste bitter on his tongue. He can't help but say something, it's an automatic reaction he has towards you—word vomit.

Your eyes immediately dart to him, you heard him loud and clear amidst the cackling of the fire. "Don't act like you aren't one. We all know what a suck-up you are to Joon. You have no right to call me a brown nose when you're so far up his ass," you retort back while regarding him with a grimace. Your response was quick and cut throat, he expects nothing less coming from you.

"Oh please, I'm the suck-up?" Jeongguk scoffs, dragging a hand through his hair roughly. "You weren't even supposed to be here. Joon must have begged you to turn down that internship and come back."

"I made that decision on my own Jeongguk. I wanted to be here because I enjoy it. Not because I was asked to be. Get your facts straight before opening your mouth."

Your loud voice cuts through the still night as the world goes quiet. Jeongguk holds your glare, body tense at your insult, the stick in his grasp about to snap from how hard his fist clenches around it. The deafening silence is apparent for a few moments longer before the group snickers and hollers like teenagers without warning.

"It hasn't even been five minutes and they're already at each other's throats," Hoseok yells over the laughter. He stands and lifts his beer over the fire. "Cheers to another summer of tension between these two idiots."

You and Jeongguk continue to glare at one another through the dancing flames as the rest of the group joins in on Hoseok's antics, standing to clink their beers together. Your head cocks to the side with a smirk forming across your face. Your smug expression has Jeongguk seething; you know exactly how to push his buttons.

His eyes retreat from yours, unfocused as his chest tightens. He doesn't find it the least bit funny. Here you are once again picking a fight with him—you're suffocating, never letting up on your insults.

For years, the guys joke and tease him about you, mocking him. It’s like a form of amusement, a melodrama that keeps them entertained throughout the summer. That’s part of the reason why he always resigns to backing down from every argument, he’s tired of the taunting.

It’s truly mortifying. He’s humiliated at how easy you get him riled up. Nothing is more infuriating to him than the way he allows you to step all over him.

You watch Jeongguk divert his attention, busying himself with placing a new marshmallow on his stick and over the fire. You've only been here for a few minutes and he already is setting your body aflame with irritation. The searing heat of rage ignites your cheeks.

You thought perhaps with time apart and each both growing mature, that your bickering would subside. But all too soon you’re both back at it again. You quickly realize that things have not changed and that your time here is going to be the same as it always has been, nothing but passive-aggressive comments that provoke a storm of arguments between you two.

You try to tell yourself that it's worth coming back to spend one last summer with the rest of the group, that he wasn’t one of the reasons you turned down the internship and decided to return to camp one last time.

Pretend that the kiss you almost shared last summer doesn't still haunt you.

The flames reach higher into the sky as you consider him, watching his eyes as the light dances across his face. He let his hair grow out and you're trying not to stare at how handsome he looks. It suits his stupid face, making him more attractive. How annoying. His right sleeve has been filled out since you last saw him as well, more ink covers the empty spaces, leaving little skin untouched. If only you could run your hand across the artwork, to feel the texture of his inked skin.

"So how have you been?" Jimin's question brings you out of your thoughts. Ones you wished you didn't have, that you thought you could get over. Truthfully you couldn't stop thinking about Jeongguk even after these many months apart.

Glancing down for a moment, finger thumbing your ear, you push those thoughts aside for now. You're not going to let him sour your mood tonight. With a straightened posture you turn to see Jimin’s radiant smile as you proceed to catch up on lost time.

The group relaxes back into a comfortable lull, letting time pass, the moon moving ever so slowly across the night sky. More cans are opened, stories and memories are shared around the campfire. The blaze glows across your skin, illuminating part of your face and casts a shadow on the rest.

Jeongguk watches your happy expression as you fall into hushed conversations with Jimin. His eyebrows furrow in thought. Since when did you two get so friendly? Jimin’s hand rests on top of your own as he helps you with a marshmallow. Jeongguk cuts his eyes away with a low scoff. He doesn't have the stomach to sit here and watch the nauseating interaction any longer. He can see just how bad you have Jimin swooning. He would be a fool to fall for your deceiving charm.

Jeongguk throws back the remaining can of beer in one long gulp, crushing it in his fist and throwing it into the pit. He abandons his stick as well, another burnt marshmallow at the tip he forgot all about while lost in the thought of you. The flames immediately take hold and engulf it with a series of crackles. He considers you for a moment before he stands, dusting off his pants.

"I'm crashing early, I'm getting a headache."

He knows his lame excuse doesn’t fool anyone as they say their collective goodnight. He just needs to get away from you, and away from the memories he packed away that are now rising to the surface with your surprise arrival.

You watch his retreating figure, and hear his cabin door open and then slam shut. The loud echo bounces off the trees that surround them. Having been at this campsite for so many years, you’ve learned the self-closing springs on all the cabin doors are too strong and need extra care when closing. You know very well that Jeongguk didn't care to catch it, letting it slam to make his point clear—he's not happy to see you. What a fucking child.

“We should all head in as well, we have an early day tomorrow,” Namjoon speaks up. The circle of counselors rise from their seats, cans and all remaining trash are collected and thrown into the fire pit, burning away evidence of their reunion.

The last can is thrown in and you reach for your stuff on the ground, ready to get a good night's rest after the hostile welcome from Jeongguk. “Where do I bunk this year?” you ask.

“We saved your old spot of course. I’ll help you with your things.” Jin grabs one of your bags, throwing it over his broad shoulder, heading towards the cabin closest to the bathrooms.

The fire hisses behind you as you head to the familiar cabin with Jin, your feet drag across the gravel with sluggish movements, tired from the long drive. You turn back to see Jimin dousing the fire with water collected from the nearby lake, the smoke rising in a large cloud above before dissipating into the clear night sky.

—

“No! I will not be paired up with her. I refuse."

It hasn't even been a full day since you've arrived and Jeongguk can't stand to be near you.

This morning you claimed the passenger seat in the group van. It has been Jeongguk’s spot since he first started, long before you joined, and you know that. You weren't even supposed to be here, and now you're taking things away from him, claiming what's not yours to begin with. As you've always done.

He was not about to be stuck with you. He already has to deal with being around you all summer since you both are counselors to the same group of kids, it's really inconvenient to have to see your face everyday—but to be forcefully partnered with you is where he draws the line. He's not doing it, no chance in hell.

"Seriously Joon, why would you even consider putting us together? You know how I feel about her."

Jeongguk folds his arms against his chest, feet planted on the ground. He would rather be stuck with screaming children than with you any day.

You turn your body away from him, rolling your eyes at his comment. This is the one and only thing you agree with Jeongguk on. There is no way you are going to spend the next few hours alone with him in a canoe. You look at Namjoon, begging with your eyes to let you off the hook. He wouldn't do something so cruel to you, right?

He shakes his head. "Campers start arriving in a few days. I need you two to settle this feud you have going on." Namjoon furrowed his eyebrows while rubbing his arms, deep in thought before explaining, "I don't want a repeat of last summer. It was humiliating to explain to parents why two of my best counselors were heard screaming at the top of their lungs about crust versus no crust in front of all the kids."

Jeongguk rolls his eyes as he drops his hands by his side and lets out a heavy sigh. Remembering that fight brings back all the anger he felt that day.

"It's not my fault he has an issue with leaving the crust on his sandwich, any normal person would be fine with the crust, or just ask for it to be removed. He's the one with a personal vendetta with bread." You gesture wildly in his direction, trying to express just how absurd and petty he was being.

He scoffs. “The point is, you know I hate crust, yet you still left mine on when you took the crust off for several other people that day.”

"At least I didn't put cyanide in it," you mutter.

Jeongguk regards you with a glare and you match it with the same intensity. Not wavering under his stare. His jaw flexes under the strain of his clenched teeth. "Say that louder, I dare you."

You fully turn your body to him, standing straighter. "Or what?"

Namjoon sighs and rubs his face with both hands, interrupting your growing argument. "The point of this activity is for our group to bond." He takes both of his hands to gesture at the river beside them. "It's about going out on this beautiful river as a team and to have fun. You don't see anyone else complaining about their assigned partner."

"Because no one else hates their partner," Jeongguk reasoned.

"Joon, just leave these two love birds alone here. They'll figure it out," Yoongi shouts from the edge of the river, his patience running thin.

"Both of you will have to deal with it. The van already left and the only way back to camp is down the river for three miles." Namjoon takes a step back, heading to his assigned partner who has been waiting. "Everyone has already taken their leave and there's only one canoe left, and that's yours to share." He steps into his canoe and takes his seat in the front.

"Enjoy!" he shouts as they push off the shore.

“No way,” you whisper to yourself.

Your mouth falls open, watching as they head down the river, abandoning the two of you. You both stand there in silence, looking everywhere but at each other until he takes a seat on a nearby rock.

Jeongguk is left alone on the side of the river bank with you, his attempt to reason with Namjoon completely failed.

At a loss for words, he stays silent, trying to think about how he’s going to get through this torturous activity. He knows you, he knows you're going to pull some sort of shit to just piss him off. He’s done playing your games, you're confusing and he doesn't understand you.

Especially since things ended on a weird note between you two last summer, something he didn't want to be reminded of, but it's been plaguing his mind since yesterday. He knows it’s just another one of your traps. All you seem to do is play mind games with him whenever ever you get the chance—he's tired of it.

It was undeniably the worst summer you two shared, constantly butting heads and arguing over petty things, like the types of camp activities to do, what to eat for group lunches, or the team color for spirit week. He cannot remember a time when you two were ever on good terms.

The hate Jeongguk harbors for you had initially developed out of jealousy, annoyed over the fact that you competed for attention and always seemed to come out on top. It all started the very summer you joined the group, it was the first time he felt threatened by someone. You would upstage him constantly, always the one to receive the praise from the kids and their parents. You were labeled as the favorite counselor among many.

Then a shift happened and you started to humiliate him in front of everyone, taunting him at every opportunity. He would see your expression change the moment he snapped, like you enjoyed seeing him crack under the pressure. He harbored a lot of self-doubt all thanks to your endless provocation.

There were times where you tried to express your sympathy, as if you felt bad for your actions. Like the time you offered to help him when he was struggling to carry a dozen water bottles for the kids on his own. Or when he dropped all the markers when setting up the craft table.

Your kindhearted nature baffled him, he only ever saw you act this way towards others. But Jeongguk rejected your help, he didn’t want your pity, especially not after you made him feel incompetent. He’s not one to easily forgive those who’ve wronged him and after all that you’ve put him through he keeps you at arms length, never crossing the line with any sort of intimacy.

He had built an emotional wall in response to your confusing mannerisms. His automatic reaction to anything you do or say has become a pattern of passive-aggressive response to keep you at a distance that is comfortable for him.

He’s not looking forward to yet another summer of being overshadowed by you. To be the target of your slander behavior. But more importantly, he’s attempting to stay cautious unlike the end of last summer where he had let his guard down one night. Jeongguk remembers the tightness in his chest as you two got close, seeing you in a different light for the first time.

He had suppressed the memory of that night up until yesterday. And now, as painful as it is, he knows he has to get in that boat with you. He has to surrender his wariness momentarily and make it down this fucking river as fast as he can and not let you inside his head.

Jeongguk slumps forward, swallowing the sour taste in his mouth. He has no other option but to give in.

Several minutes pass before you feel him stand to his feet, his audible steps shuffling against the ground beside you. You stand there, anticipating an outburst from him, but all you hear is a heavy sigh.

Jeongguk languidly walks over to the canoe. "Let's just get this over with." The canoe drags over several rocks as he brings it to the water with no enthusiasm.

"You're going to ruin the canoe that way. What are you, a caveman?"

He doesn’t even look at your direction, shrugging as he continues to drag it. "It's not a big deal, it’s fine." He drops the canoe in the water.

Your lips press together, arms folding in front of you while your eyes follow him in disbelief. "That's not fine, you can't just do that, you'll puncture the bottom. Have you ever been canoeing?" you call out in question.

"No. It's not rocket science. I'm pretty sure I can handle it." He pushes it into the river. The water up to his calves as he steps into the canoe with calculated steps. The slight rock of the boat almost makes him lose his balance. He grips the sides to steady himself again and takes small strides to the back seat.

You watch him struggle to get in, muttering incoherently under his breath. Your posture relaxes as you scuff at the ground, not wanting to move. Now that you have no choice but to spend the next few hours alone with him, a churning sensation develops in your stomach just at the thought. You’re unable to control the sense of dread that's festering inside you.

"Are you going to get in or what? I will leave you behind."

Your foot stills at his threat. You audibly scoff in his direction before you look away, watching the water move down the river slowly. Now you’re really debating getting in with him. "Right, like you would be able to make it down the river on your own."

Silence is met with your comment, you look up at him in question at his lack of response. Eyebrows furrowing as you observe him grabbing a paddle. Does he really think you would fall for some lame threat so easily—he has no experience, there’s no way he would leave on his own.

"Ok, bye." Placing the paddle in the water, he pushes off the shore.

You choke back a gasp, feet automatically moving towards the river in panic. Adrenaline shoots through your body as your eyes grow wide at the canoe moving towards the middle of the river. What an ass, is he really doing this? Is he really about to leave you here stranded?

"Are you serious right now?" you yell.

Once the canoe sits idle in the river a good feet away from the shore, Jeongguk turns in his seat with his chin up glancing back at you. "Yep," he replies with a pop.

That stupid smirk on his face has you reddening with anger. You reach the edge of the water, hands up as you scream, “I swear to God Jeongguk—”

You stop short, seeing the way he struggles to maintain the canoe facing the right direction. You notice he's not sitting in the center of the boat, creating an imbalance when he paddles the water. What an idiot.

Your hands come down on your hips, you lean on one leg at the realization. There's no possible way he could ever make it on his own. "How's that working out for you?"

Jeongguk aimlessly tries to paddle, to center the boat—but there’s no use, he can’t control the direction it faces as the small current keeps turning the canoe. His ears start feeling hot, a flush creeps across his cheeks. He just made a fool out of himself in front of you.

He has no choice but to forfeit his attempt and ask for your help. It’s not like he was going to actually leave you anyways.

"Just fucking get in. The quicker we get back to camp the quicker I don't have to be near you."

—

You've been on the river for over an hour with little to no words being shared between you two. The only sounds heard are that of the paddles hitting the water and the birds flying above your heads amidst the silence. The palpable tension hasn’t de-escalated in the slightest—if anything, it’s gotten worse.

Jeongguk bites back a grimace as the canoe crashes against another bank of small rocks, interrupting the journey down the river once again.

You turn around with fire in your eyes. “Either you can’t see for shit or you suck at controlling the boat," you pause your accusations before asking, "or is it both?” You tilt your head to the side as if you’re waiting on his response to your taunting question.

"Like it's my fault the water is low today," he retorts back.

Jeongguk absentmindedly shakes his head and breaks from your glare. He stands and steps out of the canoe barefoot into shallow water, his sandals long forgotten after having to remove them several times already. You follow suit into the river to help release the boat from the rocks.

"How is it possible that we've spent more time trying to get the canoe unstuck from these banks than actually paddling?" He can hear the accusation in your tone. He’s not about to let you blame him for this when it’s just as much as your problem as it is his.

"You're the one in the front, shouldn't you be able to see what’s coming?" He gestures down the river, his voice hardening as he continues, "Why not speak up before we hit a bank instead of blaming me?"

Jeongguk stays guarded as he deflects the accusatory tone back to you. You hold his stare for only a moment before he watches your shoulders slump in retreat, moving to grip the canoe. He silently follows suit, ending the conversation. You both grip the sides of the boat and force it off the bank, setting it back in the river with ease this time.

"Someone's moody," you mutter.

He wrinkles his nose, a hard expression falls upon his face. He takes a moment to dip his hands into the water and slicks his long hair back, out of his face before he gives you a mirthless smile. "I'm not. I simply have days when I'm less inclined to put up with your shit. Today being one of them."

Your brows raise with a glare as you scoff at his remark.

Jeongguk leans one arm against the canoe, both of you still standing knee-deep in the water. "Your teamwork is stellar by the way, I’m sure Joon will be pleased to hear what an amazing partner you have been," he said with thick sarcasm.

"Of course, go run to Joon like the baby you are." You climb back into your seat as if expecting him to get in and proceed with the agonizing distance you have left to reach camp.

He dips his hands in the river again, splashing water over his face. Sweat has been forming along his forehead as the sun is out in full force today. He's lost count on the number of times he's had to get in and out of the canoe, it’s exhausting.

He thought it was going to be as simple as paddling down the river and making it back to camp in a few hours, but the low tide was making it difficult to navigate around the rocks and sand left exposed.

He would honestly rather be stranded out here on this sand dune than venture the rest of the way back to camp next to you. Not only was the whole canoeing activity not going the way he imagined, but your attitude and provoking comments have been making him see red.

Being forced to be your partner in this group bonding trip is by far the worst thing that could have happened. The group knows just how much you loathe one another yet they gladly put him through this hell. Namjoon already crossed the line with putting you two in the same group of counselors, Jeongguk has always been partnered with Taehyung and Hoseok. And now to go through this shit with you solo, he's checked out.

He sighs in defeat and climbs back in, rocking the boat as he does so. Just a few more miles before he can get away from you. Jeongguk grabs his paddle that lays discarded at the bottom of the boat and looks up to see you still eyeing him, fully turned in your seat, facing him directly. He quirks an eyebrow at you in question.

"The back seat controls the direction of the canoe, Jeongguk. It's your fault we keep washing up on river banks."

Jeongguk drops his paddle with a loud thud. Eyes boring into yours with ferocity in an instant. He grips the edges of the boat with rage, knuckles turning white.

"You're unbelievable, if you just learn how to act like a partner we wouldn't be in this mess! Every other pair went down the river just fine. Stop blaming me for everything." He’s teetering on the edge of losing his shit.

"If I wasn't stuck with someone incapable of navigating, we wouldn't be getting stuck every five minutes," you bite back, leaning forward in your seat.

You watch as Jeongguk's broad chest heaves up and down as his breathing becomes erratic. You know he's normally a level headed person—over years of bickering, he's always been the one to walk away first, but all your insults are finally getting to him and he's about to burst.

It doesn't matter how many times you pushed his buttons in the past, he would always back down and move on until the next time you two bumped heads. People say he's the bigger person in that respect, but you know he's just a coward, afraid of confrontation. That’s why you’re enjoying the way he’s withering with anger in front of you.

You remember the first time you met, you could see it across his face that he was threatened by you. You have a tendency to get what you want and know the right ways to go about achieving them. You know very well that you stole Jeogguk’s spot as top counselor the first year you arrived.

Ever since then, Jeongguk has tried to win back the title of being the favorite camp counselor. Your rivalry started the moment he was told to sit out of orientation and you were asked to run it instead.

The look he gave you that day, of pure hatred and disgust, sealed your relationship as rivals. He avoided you at all cost and never once bothered with fake pleasantries towards you. As much of a pushover as he is, there is one redeeming quality that he possesses, he’s not fake and you’re oddly appreciative of that. He openly loathes you as much as you loathe him—even though you feign most of your hate to keep up with appearances at this point.

You know Jeongguk is holding himself back from lashing out. His face is getting flushed and his eyes don't leave yours as he keeps huffing. The barely contained rage is present by his sharp inhale of breath. There's no place for him to escape this time, he’s trapped. He has to confront you head on and you're loving every moment of his torture.

Your gaze wanders his frame, his body is rigid with tension. The way his hands grip the side of the boat makes his veins visible up to his forearm. They are even prominent beneath his tattoos, the veins adding a depth to the ink that swirls up and around his arm. You try hard not to stare as your eyes drag over his body to meet his awaiting ones, still hot with rage.

You lean back casually, offering a fake smile at his uneasiness. Your eyes drop down to his lips before meeting his stare again.

For a moment, Jeongguk thought he imagined it. His grip on the canoe loosens at your action. Fleeting thoughts of confusion run through his mind as he watches you lean a bit more forward again, your smirk falling to a straight line.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" he all but mumbles at the sudden shift in the air around you two. Tension leaves his body and his shoulders drop, his heartbeat starts to race.

"Like what?" you whisper, your eyes falling to his lips once more. There's no way he imagined it.

"Like you want to kiss m—"

In an instant, you're lifting yourself off the seat and reaching for his shirt. Jeongguk doesn't have time to process your movements before you're bringing your lips to his in urgency. Your mouth moving over his with fervor, the boat rocks from the force of your mouths colliding.

You fist the front of his shirt, your hold tight around the cotton material, it's the only thing keeping him grounded as the shock starts to subside. His lips finally start moving against your own with matched need, tongue flickering against yours as he explores the canvas of your mouth.

Jeongguk releases his grip from the boat and moves to place them at the back of your exposed thighs, fingers digging into the supple flesh. He pulls you towards him, bringing your legs to either side of him on the small boat seat, straddling his lap. Your skin feels soft and smooth under his touch, he doesn't want to admit how many times he's thought of holding you this way, of running his hands over your body.

Your lips slot together just right, moving in perfect synchronization while your tongues fight for dominance. Your mouths continue to move sloppily over one another as he slides his hands up to your rear, palming your ass through your shorts. Jeongguk captures your bottom lip between his teeth, earning a soft whimper from you.

You tilt to one side, angling your head to deepen the kiss while subsequently leaning your body closer to his. Jeongguk feels the canoe starts to shift along with your movements, but he's too caught up with your grasp on him. He doesn't get the chance to alert you before it continues to dip with the change in weight.

Your lips barely have enough time to come apart before the rush of water washes over you both as you fall into the water together. Bodies colliding with the river, the sudden blast of cold immediately knocks him out of the trance he was put in by your surprise kiss.

Jeongguk resurfaces and finds you at arms length in front of him, wiping the water away from your eyes. You blink rapidly in his direction as he brushes his hair away from his face. He's completely drenched, hair and clothes soaked from the unexpected plunge into the river.

He's able to stand, the water only coming up to his midsection. He regards you with a pointed look. "Don't you dare blame me for what just happened, that was all you."

"Shut up." You quickly divert your attention to the nearby sand bank along the river, not able to meet his eyes. You take a few steps back, away from his reach before you trudge towards the sand and out of the water to dry. The ripples of your retreating movements smack against him as he stands motionless at your sudden vulnerability.

His gaze follows you as you get out of the river before he finally turns, looking at the aftermath of the incident. The canoe is idly floating upside down with the paddles slowly being whisked away with the current along with his shoes. Jeongguk flips over the canoe and swims over to the paddles, collecting them and throwing them in the boat before dragging it along. He follows you to the edge of the river, tugging it up over the bed of rocks and sand, secures it in place, and moves to sit a few feet away from you.

Hands in your hair, you ring out the excess water, sighing in irritation. What the hell did you just do? Your body acted out of impulse, never in a million years did you think you would summon the courage to kiss him—especially when you know how much he vehemently despises you. You couldn't stop the heat rising to your face after the look he gave you when you resurfaced from the unexpected fall.

It reminds you of the look he gave you last summer when you almost kissed then. It was just the two of you by the bonfire, after a long day where everyone went to bed early. You were both a little drunk after the summer end celebration when the kids had all left and camp had come to an end.

The two of you were unsure what the following year had to offer, whether it was an opportunity to work for a large company or to come back to camp a final time. Unsure whether you would see each other again, which was the reason that got you two talking in the first place. You spoke openly about your fears and dreams, about the past and the future. He welcomed questions and offered answers without holding back.

You remember the pleasurable tingling feeling in your skin when he held your gaze and talked to you with such honesty and sincerity in his voice. You got to see who he was underneath the hate he harbored for you. Jeongguk had let his guard down that one night, whether that was the influence of the alcohol or not you don't know for sure.

Your bodies got close at some point during the conversation. But ultimately, you had the chance to make a move and you didn't. Neither did he. That is how your relationship was left. The following months were torture as you regretted how you ended things, how you let him slip through your fingers. Hating yourself for being too prideful and never mustering enough courage to say something.

With your arrival yesterday, you thought the two of you could talk things out, pick up where you left off that one night. But the moment he opened his mouth, you knew he was back to his normal irate self that he always has been around you. Your body went numb for a moment at his comment, complete and utter disappointment filled you. Apparently nothing had changed from his end of things, like nothing ever happened.

That is why you were surprised at Jeongguk’s response to your sudden kiss, he willingly kissed you right back with the same intensity. You thought he would have shoved you off of him, yelled and spit into your face for pulling a stunt like that.

Embarrassment floods through your cheeks only for a few moments more before the reality of the situation sinks in. You pull your legs up, wrapping an arm around your knees, retreating into your body.

But did you really expect he would do such a thing? Of course he would kiss you back, he’s a guy. He’d fuck anything walking around with a pair of tits and a vagina. You know that he only reciprocated the kiss because what guy wouldn't if a girl threw herself at them like you pathetically did. Your stomach tightens with rage—directed towards yourself. With your guard back up, you snort loudly.

“What’s so funny?”

You look over to him, his face soft and wondering. “I’ll admit that was pretty dumb of me to kiss someone like you.” You kick your legs out on the sand in front of you, leaning back on your hands. You look up to the sky, dismissing his question completely, a small smile tugs at the edge of your lips.

Jeongguk’s brows furrowed at your insinuation—you regret it, you regret ever kissing him. He should have known that this was one of your games, but he was drowned in your kiss long enough to be fooled by your antics. How did he not see this coming?

“Someone like me? What is that supposed to mean?” he asks, clearing his throat, getting rid of the doubt that is rising within him.

You look back at him, eyes boring into his. “I’m not attracted to the cowardly type,” you say simply. Your flat tone causes his body to stiffen. His ears start pounding with rage as heat rises from his chest to his neck at your words.

Pain shoots through his jaw from clenching his teeth, holding back his own retort with all the restraint he has left. You are one insult away from starting a war.

“I make no apologies that your balls aren't big enough to handle a woman like me.”

All of a sudden, Jeongguk moves towards you. He lifts his leg over your body, being the one to straddle you this time. With his hands on your shoulders, he forcefully pins you down into the sand with a grunt. Your breath escapes you at the unexpected shove.

"Can you just shut the fuck up for one minute?"

He leans over you, face hovering above yours, fingers digging into the wet sand on either side of your head. Water falls from the tips of his hair onto your face and the ground beside you. You’re still beneath him, paralyzed with shock at his sudden action, he's never been one to react on impulse like this. You stare into his gaze, trying to stay calm as he continues his tirade.

"I'm done with your attitude and sass. You've hit my last nerve—I'm not putting up with your shit anymore." Now it’s his turn to trail his eyes to your lips, just like you did moments before the canoe flipped over.

Being on top of you like this is clouding his judgment, he knows he shouldn't be doing this. He can't help but need to feel what your lips are like again, even if he vehemently loathes everything that comes out of it. "You drive me insane with that smart mouth of yours."

Your lips part slightly as you're about to retort to his insult, but his lips find yours, silencing you. Jeongguk takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, breathing fire into the kiss as your teeth clash with harsh and desperate movements. He's rough this time; he has no intention of being gentle when you've been nothing but a pain in his ass for years.

Your hands lift to his firm chest, and you push him with enough force that he lets go of your lips, but his body stays pressed against yours. He's heavy above you, with one of his legs between yours, not moving off you in the slightest, you are trapped beneath him. Your breaths mix, erratic with adrenaline as you take a moment to breathe out your confusion.

"Then why are you kissing me?" you exhale, trying to catch your breath.

Jeongguk pauses above you and doesn't immediately respond, not even he understands his sudden behavior. This isn’t something he would ever normally think of doing, it’s out of character for him to act this way. But maybe that was the problem, he wasn't thinking. His pent up animosity has finally burst and he can’t form a single coherent thought.

His eyes search yours for any possible answer that could explain what was happening, something that could help him understand this itch inside him when it comes to you. He watches your rounded eyes relax at his silence, waiting for him to say something, anything. The river behind you two continues to flow downstream while he is stuck in this moment, standing rigid above you.

And then he sees it, that glint in your eye that looks at him with arrogance, a smirk starts to appear across your face. His mouth runs dry, it's hard to swallow.

You think you've got him figured out, that he's going to back off and apologize for his behavior, something he would normally do just so he could run away. But he's tired of playing that game with you, tired of backing down and letting you walk all over him. He swallows hard. Fuck that.

He grabs your jaw and leans closer, lips brushing the shell of your ear. "All you've done is look down on me—you've never respected me." He brings his nose into your curls, the smell of river water prominent in your hair, before he moves his lips close to your ears once more. “I'm not the coward you accuse me of being. I have the balls to prove it."

Your breath hitches in your throat as Jeongguk harshly lets go of your jaw, your head stays tilted to the side by the force of his release, rooted in shock at his bold aggression. He runs his tongue against your ear and captures your earlobe between his teeth, biting down rather hard, in a way that makes your stomach flip with anticipation as you gasp. Your grip on his shirt tightens at the sensation. You had no idea he had this in him.

Jeongguk lowers his focus to your neck. He mouths at your warm skin, sucking and biting, determined to leave a mark. A sort of mark that will remind you of him for weeks to come. His hips buck into yours, rutting against your clothed cunt as he sucks on your neck. Stuttering moans fall from your lips at the combined pressure of his cock and the drag of his tongue.

His free hand slides down to the swell of your breasts, cupping you through your soaked shirt. Another moan escapes past your lips as he rolls his thumb over your nipple. The sounds you are making send shivers down his spine, he wants to hear more of them.

He releases his hold on your neck and lifts his upper body above you, peering down along your wet clothes. Your shirt clings to your form, leaving nothing to the imagination. Your breasts are a perfect size, they fit smoothly within his grasp, like they were made for him. Jeongguk’s fingers move down your torso, his fingers dance along your exposed hip, playing with the hem of your shirt.

He swiftly brings his mouth over the clothed nipple he abandoned. His tongue flattens against it, biting down with his teeth. "I'll have you apologizing by the end of this," Jeongguk growled against your chest.

Your hands find purchase in his hair as he continues to assault your nipple. The pressure of his tongue can be felt through your shirt, lapping around your chest, from one to the other, sloppily. You mewl at the attention, somehow it's even more enticing to have him suckling you through your shirt, he's aggressive and ravenous.

His fingers continue to touch you everywhere. Gripping your waist, fingers running along the small of your back as you arch against him in response to his onslaught of suction to your breasts.

"There's nothing to apologize for," you let out through labored breaths. Somewhere deep down, in the most inaccessible part of you, the truth lies dormant. Toying with him has been a guilty pleasure of yours since the time you’ve met. It was so easy to get a reaction out of him. You know you've wronged him, many times, always liked to push him over the edge until he cracked. But you'll be damned to ever admit that to anyone, let alone Jeongguk.

He digs his fingers into your back at your retort, nails scraping along your skin. There was no need to respond, but alas you always needed the last word in. You can't help it, he brings out this obnoxious side of you, the desire to always come out on top.

He pulls away from your chest to meet your hooded gaze, your hands fall from his hair to the back of his neck, lightly tugging on the hair at his nape. Your cheeks are reddened with desire from his attention to your mounds.

Jeongguk shakes his head. "Of course you would say that."

He traces one hand to the edge of your shirt, fingers snaking up your stomach with light touches. You try not to squirm at the sensation, your nerves on fire at the simple touch.

"You think you've never done anything wrong." His hands sneak under your sports bra, and palms you roughly as he continues saying, "With the way you've treated me all these years."

Jeongguk licks his lips, watching your face scrunch up in pleasure. He strokes back down your stomach and stops his actions to lift your shirt, tugs it roughly. You release your hold on him to lift your arms up as he slides your wet shirt and bra off you. He carelessly tosses them aside by the canoe.

"Don't act like you’re innocent Jeongguk, you're just as much at fault here."

You lay in the sand with your hair fanned out in all directions, messy from the foreplay. Your upper body is bare and exposed to him. He inspects every inch of your skin, watching as the sun kisses you with a radiant glow. The scowl on your face paired with the hickey forming on your neck has Jeongguk's dick straining in his wet shorts.

"I try my best to ignore you and you know that." His fingertips rub between the swell of your tits, leisurely drawing circles around each breast as he levels you with a heavy gaze. "You're the one who always needs to pick a fight."

He dives in and sucks underneath your mounds, lapping his tongue around. Not venturing near your sensitive nipples—neglecting them on purpose. His hand drags down to the front of your shorts, slipping his fingers underneath your panties.

"Says the one who started with me as soon as I arrived yesterday." You gasp when you feel the tips of his fingers touch your clit. Almost choking on your words as they slide up and down your folds.

With one hand in your shorts, he grabs your chin and presses his thumb over your lips to silence you. "Stop talking."

His middle finger plunges into your core at his command. The glare on your face immediately turns into one of bliss, you cry out at the unexpected intrusion. His authoritative tone mixed with his fingers in you has you shaking.

You're getting desperate as he can only sink his finger in you so far with the restrictions of your shorts. You want to feel his long fingers, ones you've dreamt of many nights. You need them off. Now.

With fingers hooked around the edges of your shorts, you struggle to push them down against your wet skin, fumbling with the material. Jeongguk drops his hand from your chin and watches you with amusement, fingers still playing with you as you struggle.

"A little help would be nice," you state rather than ask, but your eyes give away your desperation. You're pleading for his help.

He pulls his hand out of your shorts and you whine at the loss of contact. Jeongguk leans over you again, just short of touching your lips. "What did I say about talking?" His voice carries an underlying husk to it, the deep baritone in his voice has your stomach tightening at the sound. Then you register his words, the arrogance can be heard in his tone.

He grins widely as another scowl appears on your face. He loves seeing you this needy, it's a big contrast to your normally defiant attitude. The tips of his fingers rest on the waistband of your shorts as you watch him, almost daring him to utter some more nonsense.

Before you can yell at him, his hands gently tug at your waistband. He pulls at the shorts, along with your underwear, down your legs. They get thrown off to the side just like your shirt, not a care in the world for where it lands.

He grabs both calves and drags you across the damp sand, closer to him. Your thighs feel soft under his hands as he runs his palms from your knees to the apex of your core and back again. Your body responds with a shudder.

"The only thing I want to hear coming from your mouth are more of those pretty little moans of yours."

Jeongguk lifts his fingers into his mouth, the same ones that were playing with you prior to your interruption. He laps his tongue around them, closing his lips and sucking the taste of you off his fingers.

You watch his eyes flutter shut and a grunted moan push past his lips. Your stomach drops, heat pooling at your core. Oh fuck that was hot. You did not expect a heavy thickness to enter your mouth at something so simple as that.

He slips his fingers out, eyes opening to adjust his gaze to your pussy then back up to meet your lust-filled eyes. "Not bad for someone like you." Your own words used against you.

Jeongguk lays his body down on the ground, head dipping between your legs. You glimpse down to find his mouth hanging open above your pussy as he grabs at your thighs. His grip is strong, almost bruising. You can feel his hot and heavy breath on your most sensitive area. Laying back down with your chest heaving, your hips automatically jerk towards his face in response, the anticipation is killing you. You would have never imagined being in this position with him.

Your eyes roll back the moment his lips find your cunt. A loud gasp leaves your throat at the sudden feeling of his tongue rolling over your clit. A single hand reaches into your hair, pulling at your own scalp to stop from squirming away at the intrusive sensation.

You let out softer moans as the shock begins to wear off and the pleasure builds in your core. His grip lessens, palms soothing your skin where his hold was firm and tight on your thighs. His mouth wanders the expanse of your pussy, from your clit down to your entrance and back. The temperature of your body rises with every movement of his mouth on you.

Jeongguk lips continue to run up and down your folds, so agonizingly slow. He's not even using his tongue, simply rubbing his mouth against your sex, nibbling at your lips. The friction is enough to send pleasure through you, but not enough to satiate your growing need. You let out a loud whine, thrashing against his hold. This is torture.

You reach down between your legs, weave your finger through his long strands, and tug harshly as you peer into his eyes. He groans against you at the severity of your action. His chin glistens with your juices as a smirk dances across his face. Oh, he knows very well what he's doing, that bastard.

You lift yourself up on your elbow to get a good look at him. "Cut the shit Jeongguk," you warn through gritted teeth, your grip still harsh against his scalp. “Are you as bad at eating pussy as you are navigating down a fucking river?”

Jeongguk licks his lips clean of you, the smirk still present, only growing wider at your demanding and whiny tone. He loves seeing the anguish in your expression, your eyes blown out with lust, and sweat running down the sides of your face from the beating sun.

Your insults do nothing to him this time. He can see just how bad you want this, how your body is begging for his touch, and he’s going to drag this torturous experience out just to spite you. Maybe this will shut that mouth of yours for good.

"Impatient aren't we?" he hums. He focuses his eyes back to your pussy, a mere few inches away from his face. He unhooks his arm from around one of your legs while he continues to hold you open with the other. He reaches forward, sliding his finger close to where you need it most, around your puffy and swollen lips, but he doesn’t touch you directly. "I thought you’d be less pathetic than a needy bitch in heat.” You tug harder at that comment, it only makes Jeongguk revel in the pain knowing he got a reaction out of you.

His fingers slide over your engorged bud, slowly playing with your clit, rubbing small circles as he continues, “I’ll tell you what—” He drags his fingers down and spreads your cunt, he watches you helplessly clench around nothing, begging to be filled. You're completely exposed to him now, a beautiful sight. He sucks in a breath, completely entranced by you.

He glances up again and finds your mouth hanging open with anticipation, your breath short and ragged. He inches closer, blowing softly before attaching his mouth to your cunt, sucking harshly while looking at you directly. The hard feeling of his tongue circling your bud has lewd moans spilling from your mouth.

The grip on his hair loosens as he watches your head fall backward with a low groan. You release him completely as you drop into the sand, your back arching off the ground as a wave of pleasure rocks you. He tongues you roughly for only a moment, earning a reaction out of you.

He releases you with an obscene pop and slowly inserts a finger in your seeping hole. “If you can stop being a brat for five goddamn minutes,” he adds another finger, “I might just let you use my face to make yourself come.”

You whine as the images run through your mind—having total control of your orgasm, using him as your toy. The prospect of having that power over him is intoxicating, your core clenches at the thought. You want nothing more than him to submit to you. "Fine," you breathe.

"Promise," he demands, continuing to pump his fingers in you. You clamp around him, needing more.

"Jeongguk, please."

"I'm afraid that's not an answer." His thumb reaches for your clit, waiting for the correct response.

At this point, you're having a hard time focusing on what he's saying. Nothing but pleasure is registering in your mind, you almost forget what he's asking of you.

"I...promise...to be good,” you finally say. There’s no reason to pretend you have any shame, that you aren’t desperate for him and would gladly succumb to his demands.

"Good girl."

In no time Jeongguk’s mouth is back on you in place of his thumb, mercifully sucking. You scream, surprised at his urgency. Both hands digging into the sand. “Fuck Jeongguk,” you hiss.

He abruptly changes his pace, ramming his fingers in your soaking hole all the way to his knuckles as he tongues your folds. The squelching sounds of your wet pussy mix with your moans is intoxicating, you sound better than he could ever imagine. Even taste better than anything he's ever had, who knew a bitch like you would taste so sweet. With that nasty attitude of yours, he would have never guessed.

He continues pumping his fingers, curling them at every thrust, earning several whines to slip from between your lips. Jeongguk brings his fingers out to just the tips before he plunges them back in. Not relenting his pace. "You take. My fingers. Like a good. Slut," he says between mouthing your swollen clit, nibbling roughly at your folds, and sucking harshly.

The vulgarity of his words has you withering in lust, core clenching at the term. The sensation is overwhelming, your feet dig into the riverbank, body automatically squirming away from the intensity of his touch. Noone has given your cunt this much attention and care. Your body is hot and you feel like you're about to burst. "I'm close. Please," you beg, eyes squeezed shut and face twisted with pleasure. “Don’t stop.”

He is in no rush to appease you after all that you’ve put him through. He slows down, only allowing the very tip of his tongue to run down your folds. His cheeks flushed from all the work he’s putting in to please you.

You shudder as your rising orgasm escapes you. “Why are you such an ass?”

He pulls his face up, stopping all movement with his fingers still inside you. Jeongguk watches your eyes scrunch up as if you’re in fleeting pain. “What’s that?”

The smile in his voice is maddening, that son of a bitch. You groan in frustration, hands finding their way in your hair again. How long is he going to keep this up?

His movements are slow and deliberate, torturing. “I thought I told you to be good. Good girls don’t have dirty mouths like yours.”

“Fuck off,” you spit at him.

Truthfully, he loves your filthy mouth, but he would never tell you that. He adds a third finger, pumping in and out at a leisurely pace. His tongue is back on you with thick, long licks before he changes his pace once more.

With deep thrusts, he twists his fingers, pulsating against your walls. Your breath quickly picks up as he edges you on for a second time, setting your body ablaze. Your legs begin to shake, nearing closer and closer to the edge with each alternating thrust. Your hands come down from your hair and run along your body, grabbing a hold of your breasts, playing with your perked mounds.

The sound of his fingers mix with your pleading moans, ones that you can no longer keep at bay with every hard snap of his wrist. He feels your body tense, your muscles tighten as if you're ready to let it all go.

Jeongguk throws your legs over his shoulders and takes his hands off you, laying them in the sand beside your body. He wants you to have complete control over him and your movements.

“Use me.”

Your breath hitches. Finally. Without hesitation, both of your hands dive into his hair, once again gripping his wet locks roughly. You tighten your legs around him, slightly lifting the bottom half of your body off the sand. You want his mouth on you now, you can’t wait another moment, so desperate for his submission.

He readies his tongue, sticking it out with an open mouth, preparing to be of service to you. His submission is nothing compared to the images you’ve conjured up in your mind, it’s beyond anything you could have imagined.

You bring his face forward and onto your awaiting pussy, more than ready to get yourself off since he denied you multiple times. The knot in your core is begging to be released—this is your chance. He flattens his tongue on your open cunt and you begin to rut into his face. You use your tight hold on him as an anchor to grind against his eager mouth.

A low guttural sound escapes from the depths of your throat, almost animalistic, as Jeongguk shakes his head back and forth to increase the friction of his tongue on your sex. You whine as the euphoric feeling increases through your body. You’re almost there.

"Suck...suck my clit," you all but bark at him. He does as you ask, mouth finding your swollen bud. You grind on him harder and faster. Sweat continues to drip down your body, straining against the harsh sun.

You raise your head and watch him devour you like a man starved. "Yes," you draw out, "just like that." Your head falls back once more, eyes squeezing shut. You’re not going to last much longer. The warmth building inside you is too intense.

The wet, lewd slurping sounds coming out of Jeongguk's mouth are the only thing you hear. Everything else around has been silenced; the river, birds and cicadas have all fallen on deaf ears. Nothing else matters, nothing more than reaching your high.

The knot in your stomach tightens. He grunts against you as the hold on his scalp tightens with your pleasure. The vibration against your clit sends you over the edge as you grind against his mouth one last time.

Relief crashes over you as you reach the height of your pleasure. Your juices spew over his face with the release of your orgasm, legs twitching around his shoulders. Nothing but whimpers escape you. He grabs hold of them to steady you, keeping them wrapped around him when your body becomes limp from the exertion.

He laps at your cunt softly as you come down from your high. Cleans around your folds and inner thighs, savoring all of what you have to offer. He sets you back down and sits up on his knees, watching. Jeongguk can't take his eyes off you, panting with your eyes closed.

With your body sprawled against the sand, your eyes flutter open. Looking up into the open sky, you try to catch your breath. Chest heaving and hair full of sand, your brain is foggy and limbs feel heavy as you lay there. The slight breeze catches loose strands of your hair, you close your eyes again while you cool off for a moment. That was the most thrilling orgasm you've ever had.

You look exhausted, body unmoving as Jeongguk catches his own breath. He glances back to the canoe where your clothes lay abandoned on the ground. He moves to get up, but halts immediately due to his hard on sitting uncomfortably in his shorts, earning a hiss to escape past his teeth. He palms himself through his clothing, trying to find some sort of relief.

"Put your dick in my mouth."

"What?" He stumbles back a bit, caught off guard at your sudden request. He sees you watching his hands grope his boner, your tongue coming out to lick your lips. No girl has outright asked—more like demanded—him so bluntly before.

You abruptly sit up and reach for the front of his shorts, itching to get your hands on him, but Jeongguk grabs your wrists, ceasing you from going any further. You had your moment of control, he allowed it, but that's no longer the case.

"Hurry up before I change my mind," you demand with authority in your voice. You meet his astonished eyes only for a moment before they return back to lustful, hungry ones.

“You want it that badly, huh. We'll do it my way." He lets go of your hands. "Lay back down."

Jeongguk quickly moves to undo his shorts as you settle back into the sand as instructed. The opportunity to fuck your mouth isn't something he'll pass up since you're offering. The confined strain on his cock has long become uncomfortable, he's happy to oblige to your request.

He slides his briefs off along with his shorts, catching you eyeing his erection as he lifts his shirt over his head. The pieces of clothing get tossed aside just like yours had been, somewhere on the ground near the canoe, forgotten. A smirk etches on his face at your gawked expression.

Your eyes scan his body from head to toe as he kneels in front of you. Sure you've seen him go swimming, but he always wore a shirt, you've never seen him without one. And now you know why. The tattoos on his right arms blend with the ones running down his abs—tattoos you didn't know existed before now.

"My dick is literally out in the open and you're distracted by my tattoos?"

Your eyes flicker up to his for a moment, embarrassed that you were ogling the artwork. "I just didn't know you had more."

Jeongguk grabs his cock and starts pumping himself leisurely. He climbs over your body as he explains, "Didn’t think it was appropriate in front of the kids." Your gaze is now set on the movement of his hands running methodically up and down his shaft. Your mouth is getting dry just thinking of tasting him.

He climbs over you, knees digging into the sand on either side of your head, pinning you underneath his body. "Enough about that though, time for you to suck my dick." Jeongguk purposefully lets go of his hold and his cock slaps you in the cheek. His lips turn up into a mischievous grin at your livid expression.

"I swear to God—slap me with your dick again and I'll bite it off."

His head is thrown back, laughter spilling out of his lungs at your threat. He loves seeing you riled up like this; it's usually the other way around, you're the one who typically gets him worked up.

Jeongguk is eager to get your mouth on him. He settles his laughter and wastes no more time, bringing his tip just out of reach of your lips.

He grabs your jaw, tilting your head up for easier access as he settles over your chest. He watches your mouth open on its own accord—tongue out—ready to receive all of him. He smirks at your eagerness. The tip is placed on your expecting tongue and you immediately wrap your lips around the head and grab onto the back of his thighs. A low hiss escapes past his teeth, his tongue comes out to lick his reddened lips in anticipation of what you have to offer. He lays his free hand along his thigh, holding himself back from grabbing onto you.

Your tongue dances along the underside of his tip then up to the slit, tasting his salty precum on your taste buds. Your mouth continues down his hard shaft, the ridges of his veins can be felt on your tongue. He holds your jaw for only a moment longer before you feel his grip loosen as your movements take over. His dick is coated with your saliva, ready to take him fully in your mouth.

You feel him jolt as you suck around the base of his cock, looking up to see him watching your mouth move over him intently. His wet hair is falling past his eyes, covering most of his flushed face, but you can see his chest heaving and hear the shallow breaths moving past his lips. You've barely started and he's already a mess above you.

Once you bring your mouth back around his head and lay back into the sand, he pushes his cock deeper into you. "Let's see how much you can take." In this position—with you under him—he has total control of the rhythm and how deep he can thrust. He ruts into your mouth with slow precision, moving at a relaxed rate.

With hollowed cheeks, you swallow around him and his girth fills your entire mouth at once. Your eyes flutter close when he begins to pick up his pace, concentrating on your reflexes. His cock continues to hit the back of your throat as he fucks your mouth. His groans are coming out louder with each push, water from his hair raining down on your face.

You’re doing everything you can to maintain breathing while your mouth is full of him. You want to show him, to prove to him that you can handle anything he has to offer.

One hand weaves into your hair, fingertips light against your scalp as he grips your roots with care. His fingers hold your head in place, almost coddling it with tenderness, but a sudden feeling against your pussy has you squirming in surprise only to realize his fingers are playing with your clit aggressively.

Your eyes open in shock to see Jeongguk reaching with one arm behind him. His fingers pounding into your cunt while he thrusts his dick in your mouth. You're now completely full of him, in more ways than one.

Your head slightly lifts off the sand, and you proceed to move over his dick, he lets you take over. The angle allows you to take him deeper into your mouth. Jeongguk hums and throws his head back in pleasure as you lewdly slobber all over his dick. Saliva drips down your chin at your messy efforts.

"Fucking you with my digits gets you eager to suck my dick, huh."

Your eyes meet his with a glare. You wish you could slap that cocky grin off his face.

Jeongguk is doing everything he can to not shoot his load in your mouth, but you’re a sight to see even with that grimace he knows all too well. Your pink and puffy lips look fucking perfect around his cock, and the back of your throat feels so good. He underestimated you, he didn’t think you would be able to take him all the way.

His fingers continue to fuck into you while is other hand slightly pulls at your hair. His eyes flutter close at the sensation of your tongue running on the underside of his dick.

Suddenly, his thoughts about your pretty lips vanish as he feels your teeth run down his shaft lightly. His eyes refocus on your mouth. You start to nibble on the tip of his cock, smirking up at him as you do so before you nibble a bit harder.

“Are you insane?” he screeches.

Jeongguk moves fast, ripping his dick out of your mouth as you laugh. He gets off you in a rush, settling between your legs, looking at you with wide eyes. He can’t believe you would actually try to bite him.

“That’s for hitting me in the face with your dick, you asshole.” You wipe the saliva of your face with the back of your hand. Amusement running through your eyes as he looks at you in horror.

“You bitch.” He grabs both of your forearms, lifting you off the sand. “Turn around.”

You have no time to react before your face meets the sand while your ass is pulled up high in the air. Jeongguk grabs your hands and brings them around your back, holding them in place. With a free hand, he palms your ass slowly before you feel a hard smack come down on your right cheek. The sand falls off your ass like glitter. Your mouth falls open with a loud yelp at the surprise.

"Don't move."

He lets go of your hands, but you keep them still behind your back, following his orders. Willingly being obedient under his command this time knowing what’s to come. The sting of his hand is still present even after a few moments.

The warmth of his body vanishes as he gets up. You watch him move towards the canoe, grabbing his discarded shirt. His naked body glistens in the sun, ass nice and plump, a view you always fantasized about.

Jeongguk makes his way back, kneeling behind you once again. The soft fabric makes contact with your rear. For a stiff moment, you don't know what is going on until he starts brushing the sand away with his shirt.

He wipes your lower back before traveling down to both cheeks, taking his time on each side to get rid of all the sand. He then proceeds to wipe between your cheeks. The small bit of sand you had stuck on your body is rubbed off thanks to his doing.

With blood rushing to your cheeks, you're thankful he can't see your face at the moment, eyes wide and lower lip snagged between your teeth. That was oddly intimate. Jeongguk wiping your body was almost sweet, polite even. Never would you have imagined he would be so chivalrous. But your embarrassment only lasts for a moment before you feel something wet land on you.

Jeongguk sets his shirt down and holds your ass cheeks open for his viewing. He collects some spit in his mouth and leans over your exposed asshole, dropping the accumulated saliva directly on you. Your body squirms in shock.

The surprised squeak you let out has the corner of his lips pulling up in a smirk. He has every intention of punishing you for that little stunt you pulled just minutes before. He grabs his shirt and laces it around your hands. Jeongguk pulls his shirt tight, tying a secure knot, bounding your hands together behind your back.

"You want to act like a brat, you'll get punished like one."

His hands move down your back to massage your ample mounds, spreading his spit around your hole in the process. With one thumb, he rubs around the rim of tight muscles, testing your reaction. Your pussy clenches at the touch, a whine slipping past your lips.

He slowly probes his thumb in your opening, feeling the tightness around just the tip of his finger. You cunt clenches again as his finger invades your hole, a low moan at the back of your throat escapes. Your eyes flutter close at the sensation.

"You're tight—have you been stretched here before?"

You shake your head against the sand as moans continue to spill out between your lips. "No, never. This—you're the first."

Jeongguk chuckles under his breath, an even bigger smirk growing across his face. This revelation ticks his ego up a notch. He inflates with pride knowing he's the first one to explore this sweet hole of yours, uncharted territory.

He pushes his thumb just a bit deeper so that the entire tip is inside your opening. As much as this is a punishment for what you did, he wants to take it slow as to not hurt you. Since this is a completely new sensation for you, he wants to make sure you're comfortable.

He palms your ass with the other hand, silently coaxing you to relax under his ministrations. He rubs soothing circles and adds more spit to your entrance, earning more sounds from you. Jeongguk watches the trail of saliva run down to your folds, his eyes glazed with lust all over again.

He pulls his thumb out and thrusts it back in at a slow pace, giving you time to adjust to the intrusion. But your moans grow louder and needier. You want more, you need more. The sensation is nothing like you've expected.

"More."

"You like that?"

You moan your response, bottom lip caught between your teeth again, this time in utter pleasure.

His hand leaves your cheek before a hard smack comes down on you, all while he continues to pump his thumb in your tight hole. You groan in the blissful pain.

"I asked you a question."

You debated only for a moment whether to disobey, enjoying the hard smacks to your ass a little too much.

"Yes. Yes I love it."

Jeongguk pushes his thumb all the way in, filling you up. His breathing grows shallow as you quiver, your body thrashing in pleasure. He can't hold out much longer, his dick is screaming to be pounded into you. To feel your pussy grip him tight.

With his right hand, he grabs his erect cock. "Please tell me you're on birth control, I need to come inside you."

His grip moves up his shaft, waiting with bated breath at your answer.

"Yes. Fill me with your cum Jeongguk."

He groans, fingers passing over his sensitive tip just as you respond. Perfect.

His thumb pulsates against your walls with shallow thrusts. You let out a loud drawn out mewl. More of his spit is added around your stuffed hole, so much so that the squelching sound of your asshole being fucked mercifully can be heard over the steady river behind you two.

He lines himself to your entrance, the tip rubs your wet folds with anticipation. His daydreams of bending you over, of punishing you for all the shit you put him through, are finally coming to fruition at this very moment.

He releases his hold around his cock, finding your ass cheek again and squeezing it for dear life as he thrusts into your cunt slowly. Sighing deeply once he's buried within you, he holds himself still, reveling in your tight grip.

"Fuck, you feel amazing."

Your eyes flutter close once again. Body falls limp at the sensation of both your holes being filled. Jeongguk wraps his arm around your stomach to hold you up until you regain your senses after a few moments. You arch your body and your ass perks back up, ready to be destroyed by him.

"You ok?"

"More than ok," you hum in response.

He chuckles, satisfied that he has you coming undone at the seams just by having his cock buried inside you. He removes his arm from around your torso and grabs a hold of your tied hands, still bound together tightly by his shirt. He pushes your body forward, head falling downward to watch your cunt move over his dick, leaving just the tip inside you.

"I can't wait to hear your apology—I will get it out of you."

You have no time to respond before he pulls you back onto his cock with great force, knocking the wind out of you. His long fingers grip your ass tightly while his left thumb is still buried deep inside of you. Your head is clouded with ecstasy, the pressure of his thumb has you seeing stars.

Grip still tight around your tied hands, he uses them as an anchor to control the movement of your body. Jeongguk mercifully thrashes you forward and backward on his cock.

A quick gasp slips from you when he drags his cock out of you so dangerously slow before he rams back into you. You’re unravelling, coming undone as he bucks his hips into you with no remorse. His thrashes are so powerful that your knees are digging deeper into the sand at every thrust.

You can hear his hoarse moans, deep shallow breaths—a sign that he’s growing as feverishly desperate as you. You don’t want him to stop, the warmth is building in your stomach for the umpteenth time.

Jeongguk’s gaze locks into the view of his dick slipping in and out of your squelching pussy. His left thumb still thrusting into your asshole, at a more leisurely pace than his dick. He bucks you back harshly once more on his cock, holding you still as he runts into your cervix with slow precision.

Your mouth falls open silently, eyes rolling to the back of your head at the pressure against your walls. The bliss lasts for just one more moment before Jeongguk suddenly yanks at your restrained hands, lifting your upper body off the sand. Your back meets his torso with a thud, a sign of how aggressive he is with his movements.

He releases his hold of your hands, moving your hair over one shoulder. He leans in close to you, lips brush against your ear, breath warm against your neck as he circles his arm around the front of your stomach, holding you tight to him. You shudder, the warmth of his body against yours fuels the fire growing in your core.

He dips his head, bites down on your shoulder, thumb thrusting slowly in your asshole while his dick is unmoving inside your cunt. You groan from the mix of pain and pleasure. His right arm moves up your body, fingertips lightly brushing over a perked nipple. His fingers rest at the base of your neck and he licks the bite mark he left.

“You can apologize right now and I’ll go easy on you.”

His lips brush up your neck, breath heavy against your ear. You shake your head lightly, purposely wanting to play with fire and the heat that will come along with it. You want it rough, you want him to force you to say it. He snickers, hand stroking the length of your neck until he reaches right under your jaw.

Jeongguk’s grip tightens, the oxygen leaves your lungs in utter desire. You’ve dreamt of his tatted hand around your neck too many times to count. Your pussy clenches around his dick at the feel of his tight hold.

He lets out a low hiss, ruts inside you once, twice, three times. “You asked for it.”

He pulls himself out and slams right back in, thrusting hard into you at a rapid, unforgiving pace. You scream with what little oxygen you have, taking steady breaths as his grip stays firm against your throat. You arch against him, head falling on his shoulder. Moans and mewls spilling from your lips.

With his unmoving thumb filling your asshole, he continues to thrust up into your core, not slowing down the slightest. “Are you. Sorry yet?” he asks between thrusts.

With eyes rolling back, your body starts shaking as he thrusts his cock in and out.

He grunts, keeping a steady pace. Jeongguk lets go of your throat, running his hand into your hair at the back of your head. He pulls at your scalp. “Are you?”

“Yes! Yes!” you scream, loud enough to cause birds to startle out of the trees nearby. Tears run down your face, you’re convulsing around his cock as he holds you up.

Jeongguk pulls back to watch you cream all over his dick, your milky juices run down his shaft at your release.

He ultimately removes his thumb from your abused asshole and pushes you down to the sand once again with your ass up. Grabbing both of your hips with a tight grasp, he pounds into you with growing fervor, searching his own high.

With your forehead in the sand, your moans start back up, another orgasm building inside your core almost immediately. He doesn’t give you a moment of rest between your climaxes to catch your breath.

The sound of Jeongguk’s skin slapping against yours, with every hard thrust, gets drowned out as you reach yet another orgasm. Your body tightens for a moment before you let go and come undone. Slumping forward, you are completely drained of energy.

Jeongguk releases his seeds in you with an animalistic grunt, warming up your walls, filling you to the brim. He pumps short thrusts into your filled pussy, milking out all of his cum. You are stuffed with every last drop of him.

He breathes, gasping for air.

After a short pause, with one hand still on your waist, he sits back on his feet panting. He watches you sway your hips to the side and proceed to fall over into the sand, body going limp from exertion.

His eyes trail down your body to see his cum spilling down to your inner thigh. Your engorged cunt properly overstuffed. Playing with you again sounds so tempting but he knows you're worn out. He's brought you to your high several times and he's more than satisfied with your screaming apology.

“Can you please untie me?” Your voice comes out in a tired whisper, pleading to be released from the constraints of his shirt.

He smiles to himself, pleased to hear you beg. He reaches, grabbing your hands with care and undoes the knot of his shirt around your wrists. He drops it off to the side and softly turns you on your back. Jeongguk slots himself between your thighs with slow movements, hovering over your body. Like deja vu, he’s on top of you again—just like it started out.

Your chest rises with every intake of breath, eyes closed. He lets his gaze wander your features. Tears stain your flushed cheeks, another example of how good he made you feel. A satisfied sigh leaves his lips.

"Wrap your legs around my waist."

Your eyes flutter open, heavy with exhaustion. You shake your head lightly. "I—I can't go another round Jeongguk—I can't."

He lightly grabs one of your hands, thumb running gently down to your wrist. The sheer panic in your eyes has him suppressing a laugh, he’s never seen such worry in your eyes.

"I wouldn't do that to you," Jeongguk says with a gentle voice. He grabs your other hand and wraps them around his neck. "Come. I'm going to clean you up."

Your features soften upon his words, heart fluttering. You weren't expecting that to come out of his mouth. His hands leave yours after securing your hold around his neck. He slots an arm around your back and another one on your leg. He wraps it around his waist and you automatically lift your other one to hook around him as well.

Jeongguk pushes himself up off the sand with you in his arms, holding onto him for dear life as your body is lifted off the ground. With little effort, he heads into the river while holding you up with his hands under your bum. A shiver runs up your spine when the water hits your calves, you let out a low hiss at the cold feeling.

“Just give it a moment, your body will acclimate,” he mutters under his breath.

Goosebumps form over your skin. Whether it’s from the cold or the embarrassment, you don’t know. You glance behind Jeongguk, at the indentation your bodies left behind on the sand dune. The sand is spewed everywhere unnaturally, completely disturbed. Heat rises to your cheeks, only now fully aware of what had just transpired between you two, reality finally catching up to you.

The water settles under your breasts as Jeongguk stops in the middle of the river. One of his hands slips to your entrance, rubbing you softly. You yelp in surprise at the touch of his fingertips. But more importantly, you feel awkward at his gentle touch, a big contrast to his rough ones from earlier.

“I’m just washing away my cum.”

You meet his eyes with suspended breath, grip tightening around his neck. If only you could have the ground swallow you up at this very moment. This is oddly intimate, the kind of situation you never imagined to be in with Jeongguk. But then again, what you two just did on that sand dune was far from intimate.

You clear your throat and with a hoarse voice, you speak up over the silence that has settled between you two, “I really am sorry for the way I’ve treated you Jeongguk.”

His fingers pause at your words, hand brushing back up to your thighs. “Hold your breath.”

Your eyes furrow at his words before you watch him inhale, holding his own breath. You hurriedly take in one yourself as he lowers both of you into the water. One of his hands weaves into your hair, fingertips running over your scalp and fingering your long strands.

He’s washing the sand out from your hair, another sweet gesture that has your heart pounding loudly in your chest. He then shakes his own hair, ridding the sand that was left from your aggressive tugs. As he brings you back up to the surface, you can’t meet his eyes. You felt hurt, hurt that he disregarded your sincere apology just moments before. Maybe he doesn’t believe you, why would he after all that you’ve done?

Jeongguk grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. He locks his gaze with yours, his other fingers playing with the sides of your ribcage as your legs are still hooked around his waist. “Yeah, I know. And I’m sorry too.”

Heat rises to not only your cheeks but to his as well. He drops his hand from your face, clearing his throat and looking back towards the canoe. The water continues to fall from his soaked hair and onto his face, all the way down along his sharp jaw. You admire his side profile for a moment longer before he says, “Let’s head back to camp.”

—

Jeongguk steps out of the canoe after you. He picks it up and places it in the nearby rack where the other canoes have since dried off from their own trip down the river. He turns to see you watching him with your arms wrapped around your body, like you’re comforting yourself before you speak.

“Can we talk about us?”

“Us?” he questions. His eyes furrow at the insulation of there being an ‘us’. He shakes his head before replying, “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

Your arms limply come down to your sides while your shoulders drop. Jeongguk diverts his gaze from your sullen eyes and runs a hand through his damp hair, another reminder of the moment you both shared down the river. He sighs dejectedly and drops his hand from his hair.

“Let’s talk about this later.” Right now is not a good time for him, he’s not ready to discuss the status of your relationship. He needs time to reflect on his feelings towards you as too many emotions are running through his mind at the moment. Jeongguk is unsure how easy it will be to forgive and forget all that you’ve done, and in turn how to truly make up for all the shit he did to you in return.

He nods his head towards the voices of the other camp counselors, gesturing for you to go on ahead without him as you stand there unmoving. He needs to figure out his next steps.

Your head dips, eyes directed towards the ground before you nod, turning on your heels and heading towards camp on your own. He follows your slow movements, eyes watching your feet drag across the grass as you make your way past Hoseok.

A sigh leaves his lips when his friend looks from your retreating figure to meet his gaze. Jeongguk’s posture stiffens as Hoseok makes his way over to where he stands, his palms sweating with every step. He already knows what’s to come, not looking to be hounded with questions right now.

“So something happened,” he inquires, lips almost curving into a smirk before he suppresses it. “But I can’t tell if it was something good or something bad.” Hoseok quirks his brow at him, hands placed behind his back as he waits for a reply.

Jeongguk looks away, his hand reaching to grab at his neck before he swallowed thickly. “Nothing happened. Just drop it.”

“You two were gone for an awful long time and you come back all wet,” he presses.

"So? We fell in the water."

"Everyone made it back over an hour ago. Did you get lost or something?" he asks, voice dripping with taunting sarcasm.

There is no way for him to avoid the obvious rumors that have started long before their arrival. Without a doubt people have already conjured up their own ideas and speculations. His lips press together in a slight grimace, he doesn’t know what had transpired between you two—let alone how to put it into words. By no means does he regret it, but where exactly does he go from here? How does this change your relationship? These are the questions he needs to find the answers to within himself first.

Jeongguk looks back at Hoseok, eyes unwavering this time. “Yes we had sex. Is that what you want to hear?” He glances past him to see you curiously watching them talk.

Hoseok grins. "Then why do you both look so worked up? Was it that bad?"

His gaze lingers on you for a second more before he closes his eyes as if in pain. With a long sigh, his hand comes around to run over his face in frustration. He exhales, "It's complicated."

—

PART TWO >

—

reviews are always welcomed and appreciated. really, i love to hear your thoughts.

MASTERLIST

#jjk x reader #jungkook x reader #btsghostie #ficswithluv #bangtanarmynet #btsgoldnet #jungkook smut #bts smut #f; paddlewithme

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chiwhorei · 4 years ago

Text

the devil makes

pairing: benimaru shinmon x reader x joker/52

genre: smut, 18+ minors dni

word count: ~2.2k

tags: a touch of branding (he flicks his cigarette at you i just really don’t know how else to tag it), knifeplay (except it’s a playing card, only a smidge of blood), rough oral, face fucking, voyeurism, spit, anal, double penetration, degradation, spanking, belly bulge, it’s a little dubconny but not really?

a/n: my first full fire force piece woot woot! these two characters make me so fucking horny and when they shared the screen my pussy was completely inconsolable. thank you @messwriting and @10millionyearsdungeon for looking over this and always encouraging me.

hymn: wrong by MAX ft. lil uzi vert

you, and me, and the devil makes three.

“Why don’t you cut the shit and tell me what you want,” you pluck the cigarette from your caller’s lips, he presses his saccharine smile down at the edges to feign a pout.

You know better by now. Your legs hang on either side of Joker’s hips, his white dress shirt doing almost nothing to cover skin filled with a new flight of bites and bruises. The last set had just faded when you heard the tell-tale knock at your front door.

His timing is always impeccable, hat in hand and dipping under your doorway just as the wanton throbbing sizzles into a dull ache.

Deeply inhaling, nicotine breaches your throat and prickles past your lungs. You only ever smoke when he’s around. At this point, you’re not sure if it’s a necessity or a habit.

“Do I need a reason to visit my favorite girl?” His voice trails around your skin in tune with a wandering set of hands. It’s infuriating how easily your body relents to Joker’s fingerprints. You’ll feel them like scorch marks for days to come.

“I’m not your girl and I doubt I’m your favorite.” You bush off his quip, cigarette bobbing in your teeth before he pulls it from your mouth to drag. With a flick of his finger, ash falls like burning snow onto the juncture of your collarbone. You wince and fall forward into his chest.

“You’ve proven yourself the most useful, is that better?” Joker pulls you into a searing kiss, pushing tongue and smoke into your awaiting mouth.

“At least it’s more honest.” Joker laughs loudly, his head falling back against the mattress. Your pillows will smell like sage and campfire, you’ll pretend it doesn't lull you to sleep.

“I need your help to, achem, seal a deal of sorts. For the greater good of course.”

Eyes roll upwards, first with guffaw, but any argument melts with the feeling of his lips on a warpath from the angle of your jaw to the swell of your breast.

Joker promises to make it worth your while, in the ways you always seem to let him.

Against all better judgement.

* * *

“Well, Captain,” Joker presses a sharp ace against the curve of your collarbone, leaving a trail of crimson in its wake, “she’s a pretty little toy ain’t she?”

Pleasure coats your tongue, it tastes like blood and incense.

In the short time they’ve been acquainted, Benimaru has learned to be unsurprised with any impromptu meetings Joker could plan.

What Beni wasn’t expecting was your naked, flushed body on the lap of his new associate. He wants to complain about the purple eyed almost-stranger sitting in his private quarters, but any argument flounders for air as soon as you come into view.

You seem completely placid from your position against the anti-hero’s chest, awaiting further instructions with glassy eyes. Any shame you could ever muster lies in a heap of fabric six feet away. Joker always dresses you in something easy to tear off.

“You sure do make an interesting first impression, Joker.” The 7th’s captain walks forward in the dimly lit room, pushing his fingers against your hair and pulling back roughly to steal your undivided attention.

A pretty little toy indeed.

“We’re partners now, Beni,” you can feel Joker’s voice like honeyed venom from behind, every syllable drips against your shoulders, “and partners share.”

Joker flicks the playing card upward, twirling it in deft fingers. You watch his dexterity, the piece of glossy paper is pressed to your lipstick, dragging your bottom lip down slightly before pulling away. A signature painted in soft pink.

The hand on your hip, the one in your hair-- the feeling of two bodies enclosing on you like prey is overwhelming and salacious.

“Does he bring you to do all of his dirty work?” You’re spoken to for the first time, the grip in your hair lifting you from Joker’s lap.

“Only the dirtiest work suits me,” you hold your ground, voice dropping an octave to make both men shudder, “captain.”

Benimaru’s sneer is only an inch from your mouth, his proximity neering closer with every word falling past your lips. If you keep talking like this, Joker won’t want to share his toys anymore.

Pointer finger and thumb come up to cradle your chin, mouth parting with the smallest pressure. Your tongue lulls out slightly, an invitation punctuated with your eyes flitting from his stare to the deep set frown across his face.

The sound of Beni spitting hits your ears, the harsh put bounces against the bannisters. Warmth runs in an indecent trail from the tip to the fattest plane of your tongue.

“Don’t play coy, sweetheart, show ‘em what else you can do with that mouth.” Joker’s palm comes down on your ass cheek hard, a breathy yelp escapes to be swallowed by the man above you.

Beni moves to perch against the desk centered in the ever-condensing room, arms folded across his broad chest. The space feels cold without the body heat you had been stuck in between, you feel exposed fully for the first time since Joker snuck you into company seven.

There’s only a beat of self-cognizance before you’re pushed to the ground by a familiar set of calloused hands. You need no further direction, knees and palms straining against the hardwood as you inch forward.

By the time you’re kneeling in front of Benimaru, his cock is in a tight fist. He pumps himself in long strokes, smearing pre with his thumb to coat the throbbing head. His length is impressive, you can feel saliva pooling in under your tongue as you watch his hand move from base to tip.

The sight almost has you forgetting your manners.

“Will you fuck my mouth, Captain Shinmon?” There’s very little restraint left available behind his icy red irises. Joker sits back in the brown leather chair, a front row seat.

You feel the familiar burn against your scalp with Beni’s searing pull. The red tip hits your mouth and you’re positive a streak of lipstick finds home against your chin.

You’ll be covered in much more before the sun comes up.

His cock is heavy as pushes past your lips inch by thick inch. The groan ripping through your throat is vibrato against the ribbed skin.

“Wow, ah, your sweet little throat was meant for cock wasn’t it?” Tears prick in your eyeline, your vision growing bleary as you swallow. A stray streak of mascara falls down the curve of your cheek before Beni swipes it away. You almost blush. Almost.

He hits the back of your throat with seemingly little effort, you sputter slightly at the burn, your jaw aching to accommodate. Just as you feel him pulling almost all of the way out, Beni slams the full length in again. His pace is brutal and unforgiving. Each thrust earning a new mess of spit and makeup to collect at the edges of your mouth.

“No need to be gentle, Beni, she’s taken a whole lot worse.” You would laugh at the sick curl of Joker’s words if you could. The implication is both irritating and worrisome.

“As much as I would love to cum in that pretty little mouth,” you gasp for air as Beni pulls you off, a thick line of slobber still connecting your bottom lip to his cock, “I really want to feel your cunt wrapped around me instead.”

You hear the sound of Joker’s heavy feet closing in from behind, his grip on the back of your neck to hoist you back up to your feet.

“Partners share, remember?” The lilt in your pursuers voice is sweet in the way sugar free gums rots your teeth. Joker will break you into pieces for the greater good.

It’s sick, absolutely disgusting, how much you crave your own destruction.

“She’s nice and ready for you, captain. Feel how dripping wet she is just from sucking your cock.” His next words suck all of the oxygen from your lungs, he replaces air with tension,

“You can take her cunt, I’m going to fuck her tight little ass.”

“Wait I--” There’s no use pleading, there’s no use in anything but quiet compliance and resolving to the fate of being stuffed completely full.

Four hands are on you, groping the fat on hips and breasts, moving against the pliant skin in tandem. You’re malleable in their hold, hoisted up in Joker’s arms. His grip is unforgiving, crescented bruises are bound to form and be visible for days to come on the inside of your thighs.

Beni captures your lips between his teeth, stealing back your attention with a growl. His kiss is searing, tongue slipping to lash against your own. The stubble grazing his strong jaw is dizzying, he whispers against your lips, licking against your pre-stained mouth. Quiet enough to be either missed or ignored by Joker as he busies himself freeing his cock and grinding itn against your ass.

“Next time I’ll sit you on my face and we can have a little fun one-on-one.” Beni punctuates his promise with a nip to your bottom lip before his hands move to steady you snugly in between two wide chests. His palms rest on the dips of your hips, thumb jutting out to press tightly against your aching clit. The movement rips a hoarse wale from deep in the back of your throat.

“You always cry so pretty, dollface.” Joker’s emboldened by your tears, an invitation to push you farther, you feel two fingers prodding your asshole, using your own slick to assist in his exploration. The sensation is painful and addicting as both digits push past the tight ring of muscle.

His fingers move to work the taught hole open, each ridge of knuckle and callus blurring the line between torment and pleasure. Beni circles your clit, picking up in pace as Joker adds a third finger, the stimulation hurtling you towards orgasm. A litany of please scratch at your throat, begging your captors to steal an orgasm from the pile of shaking limbs in between them.

“Cum, little one, cum so I can fuck this tight little cunt of yours.” Beni’s voice is unmistakably demanding, there’s not a note of suggestion behind his words. Your first orgasm snaps against you like electrocution, buzzing around every nerve.

“That’s my girl,” Joker snickers, feeling the contraction and loosening of your muscles. Your high is the final submission, willing every part of you how they see fit. Little more than a toy, a pawn in a broader game of chess.

“Are you ready for us?” Beni’s voice is framed in question, but you know better than to take it as anything but rhetorical. It doesn't actually matter whether or not you’re ready. What matters is the squeal of pain and temperance that comes from breaking you.

Before you can even nod in agreement, you feel it. The burning fullness, the sealing of a deal between two men that you happen to be placed right in the middle of. Joker’s cock is hot and heavy, sheathing himself in the last plane of virgin flesh. The piercing on his frenum drags against you, a familiar feeling in the most unfamiliar place.

There’s no time to get used to the sensation as Beni is pulling you forward slightly so your weeping pussy is hovering over his length. Your legs dangle, suspended on either side of his forearms. You’re lowered onto the captain, his pace is remarkably gentle as your pubic bone meets the sprawling expanse of wirey hair nestled between his hips. As your skin meets on either side of your weeping body, both cocks sheathed completely inside, the canter of either man picks up brutally.

The sticky feeling of sweat and arousal covers every inch of skin in the room, partnering with the sound of slapping and thrusting that all but drowns out the pathetic whimpers your suspended form can muster.

“I knew you would make yourself useful, doll. My favorite game to play.”

Your head falls forward against Beni, body growing heavy as the merciless, rhythmic thrumming of your abuse. The dull ache of another orgasm drips into your bloodstream. Your abused bundle of nerves become live wires, sparking against Joker’s wandering fingers as they wrap around your front.

“I can feel it, ya’ know, I can feel myself in your stomach.” His taunt is stressed with his palm pressing down against your abdomen before dipping back down once more to pinch your clit.

His rough treatment is the final straw, you scream and cuvulse in the hold of your predators. You squeeze tightly in a succession of muscle spasms that feel like you’re trying to milk both of their own orgasms to crash with your own.

Thick spurts of cum spill into you with a series of deep, final thrusts. You feel your own wetness as it runs down your thighs and ass. Muffled groans from both men fill the stale air as they claim your holes. There’s nothing left in the space between bodies except you caught in the web of spiders, dangling in silken limbs and labored breathing. There’s nothing left to give or take.

There’s nothing but panting and sweat and a deal with the devil.

all writing is dymphnasprose’s original content, please do not repost or modify. do no read my content as asmr.©️

#fire force x reader #fire force smut #benimaru x reader #joker x reader #benimaru smut #joker smut #en en no shobotai #fire force #tw: knifeplay #tw: dubcon #sin.knifeplay #sin.dubcon #tw: branding #sin.branding

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ppersonna · 4 years ago

Text

the sheriff - knj | m

↳ summary- you’ve always had a soft spot for Kim Namjoon, the local sheriff. seems like he’s had one for you, too.

↳ rating- explicit/18+/nsfw

↳ pairing- kim namjoon x reader

↳ word count- 6.8k (THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A DRABBLE I...)

↳ genre- smut, fluff

↳ warnings- penetrative sex, oral sex (m/f receiving), cowboy dirty talk, unprotected sex, aftercare, namjoon is a whole gentleman, we love to see it, period-typical gender roles, sex in a saloon, severe overuse of the word Darlin, artistic liberties on language used in the old west lol

↳ a/n- hello! welcome to my first (not so) drabble for Bangtan Rodeo! this was requested by my angel dani @minloop who requested “ Howdy partner, Namjoon + saloon + sheriff 🤠” i hope you enjoy it love! thank you to my soulmate @mindays for the amazing banner omg i c ry every time i look at it. and thank you to @hobiance for making up this fun game, and for @mindays for beta-reading it!! i also wanna shoutout my crew @ladyartemesia @xjoonchildx @taetaewonderland @kookiesjoonies who i would never write again if it werent for their constant hype. I LOVE YOU ALLLLLL.

What had started out as a pleasant ride through town on your father’s horse, Bang, turned into an absolute nightmare.

The horse had gotten spooked by some unknown creature, and reared up high, before taking off at a break-neck pace. Your screams were drowned out by the thunderous beat of the stallion’s hooves and the wind rushing by as the horse ran erratically out of the town and into the wilderness.

“Help!” You screamed, hoping someone would hear you. Fat tears rolled down your cheeks as you clung to the reins, skirt billowing behind you.

Bang the horse reared up again in a clearing, and this time it was no match for your delicate strength. You slid off the horse and landed hard on your back with an ‘oof’ before your vision went black.

“Hey, you hear me? Little lady?”

The voice wakes you, and you blink a few times. Sitting up, you wince at the stabbing pain that radiates through your body and hiss.

“Hey now, be careful,” the gentle voice speaks again. “Don’t get up too fast. Here, lay back down.”

Something soft touches the back of your head and you realize the kind stranger must have balled up some clothing for you to rest on.

The sun is still high in the sky and your vision is slowly coming back to normal, when you focus on the face of your savior—before nearly passing out again.

It’s the town Sheriff, Kim Namjoon. The very man you’ve harbored a secret crush on for years.

You’ve watched him become a deputy and work his way up the ranks. He was a gentleman, and the bravest man in town. He battled some of the fiercest bank robbers and thieves in the county and always came back victorious. He was prime husband material.

That is, if you had ever spoken a more than a single word to him.

He’d work for your father on your ranch often, helping with mending fences or shoeing horses. He’d sit at your dinner table and graciously eat the soup, dumplings and pie you’d make special for him and thank you with a tip of his hat—then be off, back to saving the town, before you could even build up the courage to tell him ‘good evening’.

“How you feelin’?” He asks tenderly, cupping your cheek and pushing your mused hair behind your ear as best as he could.

It’s hard to speak—equal parts in pain from the fall and stunned from the beautiful man staring you down.

“H-hurts,” you whisper, licking your lips.

Namjoon’s eyes follow where your tongue trails over your chapped lips and swallows hard.

“I bet. You took quite the fall there.”

You close your eyes, remembering the terrifying moment you fell off. The horse had been so frightened, so ablaze...

Suddenly, you remember your father’s prize stallion. He had likely run off while you laid unconscious in the dirt.

“Oh, no!” Your eyes fly open. “Bang!” You try to sit up, but Namjoon shushes you and gently guides you back down.

“He’s all right, miss. He’s eating an apple, as happy as can be.”

“Oh, praise the lord,” you sigh. “Papa would tan my hide.”

Namjoon chuckles and nods.

“Brave of you to take that beast out for a ride. You think you can sit up?”

You nod, and with his strong, gorgeous hands assisting you, you sit up straight.

He offers you the waterskin in his hands. “Here, have some water. You’ll need it for that headache.”

“What headache—owww,” you groan as the sudden pounding in your head echoes the pounding of the horses’ hooves galloping out of town. Namjoon chuckles and pats down your hair—picking out dirt and leaves.

“Once you feel back to sorts, I’ll wrangle Bang up to my horse so you can ride with me, and I’ll take you home.”

The water from the skin is cool and you sigh as it coats your dry throat, eyes closing in bliss. Namjoon keeps his eyes on you for a moment, watching the way you drink. He nearly groans as a bit falls from your lips, trails your neck and down onto your pretty chest. It slips past your clothes, where his eyes can no longer follow it, and he shakes himself back to propriety.

“Thank you,” you speak as you swallow the water and hand back the skin. “I needed that.”

Namjoon nods solemnly, tucking the skin back to his holster belt before standing up.

“You stay there and rest while I get Bang tied up, alright?”

You’re hopeless to deny any request from the handsome sheriff, and you’re nodding your assent before you try to fight back on feeling better.

Instead, you watch as the tall man stands and strides over to Bang, cooing gently at the enormous beast and patting his nose for a moment to calm any lingering nerves the horse may have.

Your mind wanders and you suddenly envision a future with the sheriff—watching him tend to your horses while you cook dinner and mind the children. You imagine him herding you into your bedroom and pushing you deep into your featherbed, dripping cock aching to slide into your warmth as he whispers how much he loves you into your ear.

You’re only snapped out of your fantasy when the man of your dreams approaches once more, a bridled horse at his side as he slips the reins through his own horse’s saddle to guide him back to town.

“You all right there, little lady? You looked a little dazed.”

Your cheeks heat and you nod, quickly trying to dispel the embarrassment.

He sticks his hand out and you watch as your small hand fits in perfectly to his grip, and he tugs you up with ease; the momentum of the pull has you being pulled directly into his chest.

“T-thank you,” you murmur breathlessly. The sheriff stares down at you, eyes fixed on your own before they glance at your lips as if it’s his last wish to press his own there.

He’s silent for a moment as he holds you against his chest, then rights himself and backs away.

“You’re welcome, ma’am. Glad to help.”

Namjoon lifts you onto his own horse and your heart stutters at the feel of his hands gripping your waist. It’s warm where he touches and you wonder what his hands would feel like touching you everywhere. You imagine his hands would feel like a dying campfire on your bare skin, deceivingly scorching hot.

He saddles up behind you and wraps his arms around you, gripping the reins as he clicks his tongue at his horse to start a slow trot back towards town.

The gentle trot of the horse makes your chest heave and fall, bouncing with each step the horse takes. Namjoon glances down and can see the way your breasts jiggle and bites his tongue. You look enchanting—dirty skirt and ripped blouse from the fall. Namjoon only wishes he had been the one to dirty you and rip your clothes. His cock hardens against his will and he prays to god you don’t feel his arousal poking you in the back and prays he can get you to town before you realize and slap him into the next county.

And you definitely notice.

Your cheeks heat to hotter than the summer sun and you swallow hard to dispel some ache in your chest. Your core suddenly feels desperate for attention and you can almost imagine the way his hands would feel rubbing at your needy clit, whispering filth into your ear as he coaxed orgasm after sobbing orgasm from within you.

“Are you goin’ to the square dance tomorrow night?” Namjoon suddenly asks you, attempting to distract himself away from his rising cock.

In the chaos of your frightful ride out of town, and the bliss of being pressed up against the handsome sheriff, you had forgotten all about the annual square dance held at the town saloon. Drinks, dancing, and fiddlin’ festivities were always bound to happen.

“Oh, it must have slipped my mind,” you say. “But, I suppose I could get Papa out of the house. He has an eye on that new schoolteacher.”

Namjoon laughs, and it warms your heart. He’s taken special care of your father as much as you have ever since your mother died years ago.

“I think she has her eye on him, too.”

You hum, deep in thought of your lonely father, and Namjoon squeezes your hip with his free hand.

“Well, I hope to see you there.”

The blush returns right as Namjoon’s horse strides up to your homestead. Your father must have seen you coming and runs out of the house and down the steps to collect you.

“Oh, thank the good lord!” He breathes as he pulls you into his chest. You smile and return your father's warm embrace, suddenly feeling comforted.

“Sheriff Kim, I owe you a lifetime for rescuing my little girl.”

Namjoon smiles at you and winks, before looking back at your father and pulling his hat off tenderly.

“Just doing my duty, sir.”

Something twinges in your heart, as you’re reminded Namjoon saved you out of dedication to the badge than any memorable feelings towards you.

“Plus,” he continues. “It’s already a reward when the little lady is as pretty as this one.”

There’s that stupid blush again. Your father claps Namjoon on the shoulder and then brings the sheriff in for a hug, with a cheerful laugh.

“Now, you best be careful how you speak, son. I can’t threaten the sheriff with my .22 when he’s courtin’ my daughter.” His demeanor radiates his joking manner with Namjoon, but the sheriff’s eyes still widen like he’s a teenager again.

Your cheeks, already pink, flame red with embarrassment.

“Papa!” You admonish. “Leave Namjoon alone! He didn’t mean nothin’ by it!”

Namjoon’s smile fades back to a solemn and stoic look as he unhooks the stallion still attached to his own.

“Here you go,” he murmurs as he hands the reins to your father. “He’s just fine, too.”

Papa nods, and Namjoon replaces his hat and bows his head in acknowledgment.

“Good evening, sir,” he motions to your father. “And to you, miss. I reckon I’ll see you at the dance tomorrow.”

You nod, licking your lips again without knowing it. Namjoon begs his cock to behave, especially in front of your father.

“Thank you, Sheriff. And I reckon you will.”

He saddles up, and rides off into the sunset. Your eyes remain on his disappearing silhouette and your father fondly flicks your ear.

“That fellow likes you,” he nods at the retreating man. “And you just had to hold a candle for the goddamn sheriff.”

He ‘tsks’ jokingly, before slinging his arm around your shoulder and guiding you up towards the house.

“How the hell am I supposed to scare a boy off my daughter when he’s got more guns than me!”

You snort under your breath and lean into your father's hold.

“Oh, Papa.”

You can hear the music pouring from the saloon the moment you walk up. Papa stands next to you outside and anxiously fixes his hair.

“You think Ms. Lainey will be here tonight?” He asks. He tries not to look worried, but you can read him like a book.

Your hands smooth out his crisp, dress shirt and adjust his handsome bowtie.

“Yes, Papa. I reckon she will, lookin’ prettier than a sunflower.”

His eyes lock on yours, full of gentle emotion that you haven’t seen since your mother passed.

“You think this is fine?”

He looks concerned—worries he’s perhaps moving on too soon from your mother when she’s been gone and buried for years now. You can’t help but feel a bullet through your heart for the older man. He raised you to an adult, tended to an entire ranch, and maintained his sanity in the depths of his depression.

“Yes, Papa,” you soothe. “Mama would want you to be happy. I think Ms. Lainey is the perfect person to help you with that. Plus, I hear she makes a killer cornbread.”

Papa smiles and pinches your cheek gently.

“You’re just like your Mama,” he muses with a fond smile. “A smart ass. But a beautiful one.”

“Papa!”

“Hey,” he grins as he holds up his hands in surrender. “I’m not a liar. Now, let’s go in there and find that handsome sheriff, shall we?”

“Papa, please. Don’t embarrass me!”

“Well, too damn bad. That’s my job as your father.”

He pushes past you and through the swinging doors of the saloon.

Damn that old man.

Namjoon spies you the second you walk into the wooden saloon. You look like a princess, if he’s ever seen one.

Your blue dress hugs your curves just right and sweeps to the floor. It looks soft and Namjoon wonders what it would feel like under his fingertips. Tender, gentle, just like you.

He sets his bottle of beer down—he’s been nursing it for half an hour now, unwilling to get drunk or even tipsy tonight. Not out of some sense of duty—he had plenty of deputies around to keep the peace, but out of hope that you would come. He didn’t want to be drunk around you.

He watches as you whisper into your father’s ear and gesture towards one corner of the room. Namjoon tracks your gaze and sees you’re both looking at the new schoolteacher, Ms. Lainey who wears a pink blush that matches her pretty, pink dress. Your father kisses your cheek softly, before leaving your side and making his way towards the teacher.

Namjoon shoves the barely touched bottle of beer towards the barkeep, Jungkook.

“The hell you want me to do with it?” He asks incredulously to the sheriff.

Namjoon sends a look to his longtime friend.

“Fuck if I care, Kook. I’m busy!”

Jungkook grumbles under his breath as Namjoon turns away.

He weaves through the crowd towards you, keeping you locked in his vision. He hopes to keep you all to himself tonight, especially with you looking as ravaging as you do in that gown.

He nearly makes it to you when Jackson Wang slides in and wraps an arm around your waist. He can see your face fall when you realize who it is. Jackson is your ex-boyfriend, and a shitty one at that.

“Come on, pretty baby,” he attempts to woo. “Let me have just one dance.”

“I said I’m not interested, Jackson.”

“Oh, I know you said that, but I don’t think you meant it.”

Namjoon clears his throat from where he stands behind you. You both turn in surprise towards the officer.

“I think the lady said what she meant.”

Jackson narrows his eyes at Namjoon and grips you tighter.

“And who the hell do you think you are!”

Namjoon opens the coat of his suit, giving Jackson an eye-full of the loaded revolver clipped to his side.

Jackson seems to get the picture and shoves you off him—Namjoon is quick to steady your uneven gait from the assault.

Namjoon whistles for Jimin, his deputy, and instructs the eager young officer to escort Jackson off the premises.

“You’re lucky I’m not having him take you to the Big House tonight.”

Jackson rolls his eyes and spits on the floor at your feet.

“Fuck you, Sheriff.”

Jimin shoves Jackson out the door and follows him out to ensure the man stays well-away from the dance tonight.

Your eyes are downcast when Namjoon returns his glance at you.

“I’m so sorry,” you murmur. “I didn’t mean to cause a scene.”

The sheriff hushes you and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, just as he did before when he found you lying on the ground.

“Now, now,” he whispers as he steps closer. “I don’t want to hear none of that talk. You didn’t do nothin’.”

He slips a finger under your chin and brings your face to peer at his own. The violins change their tune from carefree to a soft ballad.

“Care to dance?” He offers.

You smile and nod after a beat of silence, taking his proffered hand and slipping your other to hold on to his firm shoulder. He looks handsome in his suit, much different from the Wranglers he wears to work. This suit is cream, and feels like fine silk under your fingertips. You wonder if he ordered it from the general store or if he rode his horse to the big city for it. It fits him like a glove and you silently thank the town tailor for his work, allowing you a tease of the man’s brilliant muscles and toned body under his clothing.

Namjoon’s hand slides around your waist—attempting to remain as proper as he can. He doesn’t want to give the town anything to gossip about, but the way your dress and waist feel underneath his palm make him nearly forget all his manners. His mother would kill him if she saw the way he continued to press in close to the woman, hoping to feel her bountiful chest press against his own.

“I’m glad you came,” Namjoon breathes as your feet move in time with his. “I was worried you weren’t gonna show.”

Your cheeks tickle a rosy hue, and Namjoon nearly melts.

“I’m sure you would have found another lucky lady to dance with.”

Namjoon hums as he spins you around, grip tightening on your waist.

“Maybe so,” he agrees. “But they wouldn’t be the girl I was hopin’ to dance with.”

Your throat feels tight.

“And who might that be?”

“The girl I’m dancing with right now.”

Something within you burns like a roaring flame, and you push forward to press your lips to his own. It stuns Namjoon; he doesn’t move until his brain finally catches up and he’s kissing you in return, deep and passionate. He pulls his hand out of yours to wrap around your waist completely, bringing you up to his chest as his tongue prods for entrance at your mouth.

You eagerly accept him, allowing his tongue purchase in the hot cavern of your lips, and you whine needily against him as you feel a bulge grow between his legs.

“Sheriff,” you whisper, pulling away from his lips.

“Namjoon,” he breathes desperately. “Please, call me Namjoon.”

“Okay, Namjoon.” He smiles and dives in to kiss you again when you pull away.

“Please, Namjoon, can we go somewhere else? Papa’s here…”

Your cheeks are red-hot and Namjoon chuckles, glancing around. Your father is busy enough as it is, dancing with the schoolteacher but he nods.

He grabs your hand and tugs you towards the bar, getting Jungkook’s attention.

“You back for that beer?” He asks with a grunt.

“Nah, gimme the key to a room upstairs.”

Jungkook eyes you standing behind the sheriff, bashful.

“Can’t even wait to get her home, now? Ain’t that the rancher’s daughter? He’s right over there! You’re really going to--”

“Jungkook! The key, please!”

The barkeep rolls his eyes as he digs under the countertop for a large skeleton key and slides it to Namjoon.

“Down the hallway, first door on the left. The presidential suite.”

He winks at the sheriff who rolls his eyes and drags you up the stairs. You pray to any god listening that your father remains distracted with the schoolteacher.

Namjoon unlocks the door and allows you to enter first, giving you a chance to glance around the spacious room. There’s a copper bathtub, a fireplace, and a large feather-bed that looks divine.

“Wow,” you whisper. “Never been in a saloon bedroom before.”

Namjoon chuckles as he sets the heavy key on the dresser, loosening his tie.

Suddenly, you’re nervous. The implications of being here have your hands trembling and body feeling flustered. You’re not the kind of girl who fools around, nor are you the kind to simply open her legs for the first handsome officer who looks her way. You hadn’t even gone all the way with Jackson when you were with him. Now that it’s happening, you wonder if you’ve gotten far too ahead of yourself.

Namjoon notices the look on your face and crosses the floor easily to cup your face between his palms.

“Hey now, why the long face?”

Your eyes peer into his, shame washing over you. You want so badly to lie with the man in bed, in every sense, but you’re terrified.

“I’ve…” you swallow hard. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

The sheriff smiles and rubs under your eyes with the pad of his thumb. It’s comforting and having him this close to you makes your body feel like you’re close to the hearth of a fireplace. Warm, soothed.

“And you don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to do, little lady. Thought we should just get out of the crowd.”

Your heart feels like it may just beat out of your chest completely. Namjoon is holding you, staring at you like you’re a treasure.

“I want you, Namjoon. I’ve wanted you my whole damn life.”

Namjoon brings his face right up to yours, lips a mere breath away.

“And I want you.”

You close the space between your lips, finally re-acquainting yourself with his taste and the feel of his plushy mouth against yours. He tastes like hops and sweet mint. Your hands slide down to claw at his sides, gripping the fabric of his coat jacket in your balled-up hands.

The kiss doesn’t remain chaste for long. You’re soon pushing off his coat, tugging down his suspenders and unbuckling his pants.

“Easy there,” he whispers as your hand tugs at his boxers. “We have all night.”

Inhaling through your nose, you nod. He’s right. There’s no reason to rush into this.

“Plus,” he adds. “It’s not very fair that I’m nearly stark naked and you’re still in this pretty little number.”

Namjoon kneels down, thick fingers untying the laces of your heeled boot, and holding your ankles stable as he slips them off your feet.

He kisses your soft ankles, presses his lips to your shins and calves as if he’s worshiping you. He thinks this is better than Sunday service, anyway.

The sheriff stands back up and his fingers move around to the back of your dress, easily finding the zipper and tugging down ever-so-softly. The fabric comes off your shoulders without issue, and soon pools at your bare feet. His eyes are soft as they travel over your body, left in only your silk panties and brassiere.

“There.” He whispers it like a prayer. “You’re so beautiful.”

The tone of his voice makes your body feel like it’s blazing—like the fire of whiskey as it pours down your throat. It burns, but it warms every single inch of you from the inside out.

“Namjoon, I don’t just want you for one night.”

Your anxieties pour out of your mouth with little thought. You wish you could hold back, just enjoy the moment. Your stomach twists and turns as he unbuttons the dress shirt and keeps his eyes locked on yours.

“That’s good,” he nods. “Because I don’t want you for one night, neither.”

Your hands slip onto his bare stomach, pushing the sleeves of his shirt off. His skin is hot, and firm. He feels like a dream. The shirt comes off easily and you gape at the artwork that is his chiseled chest.

“Oh my,” you gasp. Namjoon preens, enjoying your shameless gaze.

“All of this is for you,” he murmurs gently, watching the heated stare pull from his pecs to his eyes.

“M-me?”

He nods again and fingers the strap of your bra.

“I want you to be my girl,” he says. “I want to come home from a hard day and see my lovely little wife in our home. I’ll even get you a horse.”

You can’t help the smile that crosses your face.

“One that won’t buck me off in the middle of nowhere?”

He nods, slipping the strap down your shoulder.

“And if he does, your strong and handsome husband will be there to rescue you, every time.”

Your tongue soothes over your kiss-swollen lips as you listen to him and allow him to slowly remove your remaining articles of clothing. The bra straps fall off your arms easily and you let him work his hands around your back to undo the clasp.

“I want to make love to you every night,” he breathes. “Maybe get you nice and pregnant with my child.”

Your bra falls to the floor and his warm hands rub at your stomach, where a swell could be.

“Would you still help Papa?” You ask, hazy and dreamily.

“Every day, darlin’. I’d be the best son-in-law. Give him grandbabies to spoil rotten.”

He doesn’t say anymore—he couldn’t if he tried. Your lips are smashing against his and you’re pressing your soft, bare breasts to his firm chest and his mind is actively shutting down. All he can think of is you, your body, your hands, your mouth, and most of all, that sweet cunt. It’s still hidden behind a layer of silk, but he knows it will be the dreamiest place he’ll ever be, and one he doesn’t intend to leave often.

“Will you take me home tonight? To your home?” Your eyes are hopeful as you pull away to question him. Something about it all makes you want to make love to him all night long, in his bed. You want to wake up with him in the morning and cook together, only to get distracted and make love again on the kitchen table.

“I would love to.”

Your hands push down his pants and you’re gasping as his hard cock springs free from the slacks. It’s thick, and it slaps at his stomach once, leaving a smear of slick wetness where it hit.

“Lay down, princess,” he murmurs into your ear, tucking a piece of hair behind. It seems to be his trademark, and it sends shivers down your spine.

You obey wordlessly, laying back onto the bed and resting your head on the fluffy pillows.

Namjoon stands above you and gazes at your form, allows himself to breathe in the vision of you, nearly naked and waiting for him.

He crawls onto the bed and hovers over you, fingers trailing up your soft legs before rubbing at your clothed core. There's a patch of wetness there, and your trembling whimper tells Namjoon you’re just as eager as he is.

He settles himself in between your legs and inhales the scent of your pussy. It smells of fine silk, and of your arousal. You’re embarrassed, he can tell as your legs threaten to close, but he moves his hands to your thighs and holds them down as he licks a fat stripe up your soaked panties.

“Mmm,” he breathes. “Delicious.”

Your legs are trembling now and he flickers his eyes up to yours, gauging your reaction. Your head tips back in bliss, hands cupping your breasts.

“Do you like that, darlin’?” He asks.

Your head tips back down to stare at him, heat shining in your shimmery orbs.

“Is this okay?” He wants to know you’re just as eager as he is and has no interest in taking advantage.

You nod pathetically, legs spreading open further for him.

“I want you.”

Namjoon lets his fingers run up to the top of your panties and keeps his gaze on yours as he peels them down and off your legs. They’re drenched, and he whines when he uses two fingers to open your lips further and expose your soaked hole.

“Shit,” he grunts, tentatively kitten licking your sensitive clit.

It sends radiating static and shock through you. No one’s ever touched you there—no one but yourself on lonely nights with dreams of the handsome sheriff.

Namjoon catches your hitched breath, your shuddering sighs, and continues gently. His tongue licks tiny stripes up and down your quaking clit and enjoys the way your arousal seeps out of you. He knows you’re a virgin, knows he needs to take his time to open you up for him. And he plans on making it an experience you never forget.

“That’s right,” he breathes as he pulls away and licks his lips. “My girl doing so well. You like it when I lick your pretty clit? Does it feel good?”

You nod your agreement and open your mouth to respond, but Namjoon quickly places his lips over the sensitive nub and suckles gently. Your words turn into a throaty scream, back arching impossibly at the sensation.

He brings a hand up and teases your slit with a finger as he introduces you to a new world of sexual awakening. His tongue roves over your clit as he keeps a constant vacuum seal around it with his lips. Ever so gently, his finger prods past your folds and slips inside the wet heat of your channel.

His cock leaps at the sensation on his finger. You’re impossibly tight and drooling with juices and Namjoon’s tongue moves from your clit to lap at the slick. You taste so sweet. He can’t wait to acquaint himself with every inch of your body, especially the sweet spot here between your thighs.

“Oh! Oh, God!” You scream as your tug at your nipples. Namjoon can tell by the tightening of your channel you’re near the edge. He slides another finger in and fucks you gently with them, spreading open your heat ever so slightly so the stretch of his cock isn’t so hard to take.

“Cum for me, baby,” he coaxes. “Fall apart for your sheriff.”

Your eyes squeeze shut tight, stomach flexing hard as the band within you coils tighter and tighter until it blissfully snaps and your core is pulsating around his fingers like a grip.

Namjoon groans with your pretty cries of pleasure, watching the way your cunt milks his fingers and drools juice.

“Such a good girl,” he whispers as he gently pulls his fingers from within you. “You did so well.”

Your blush on your cheeks matches the rosy hue on your chest as you pant—attempting to bring yourself back to earth and right your breathing.

“That—, that was amazing.”

Namjoon presses one solid kiss to your thigh.

“You, my love, are amazing.”

You’re lifting yourself up on your elbows to peer down at him, whining gently for his attention.

“Will you kiss me, Namjoon?”

“I’ve got you all over my lips,” he says but you shake your head.

“Kiss me.”

Namjoon nods and crawls up your body, eagerly pressing his mouth to yours in a heated kiss. It’s intimate, and fiery as much as it is gentle and exploratory. Namjoon kisses you like he found the girl of his dreams—because he has.

After long, blissful minutes of rolling around in the bed with his lips attached to yours, you pull away and glance at his hardened cock.

“I’ve never,” you swallow as you allow your fingertips to graze the tip. “I’ve never put one in my mouth before.”

Namjoon’s sensitive glaze over his eyes returns.

“You don’t have to, darlin’.”

“But I want to. Will you let me know if I do something wrong?”

He nods once, and you adjust him to sit at the head of the bed, back against the headboard while you crawl down between his legs.

You allow yourself a few, long moments to simply stare at his length. It’s hard, flushed with excitement, and drooling a substance from his head that makes your mouth salivate. It has a soft, gentle curve to it you can only imagine will feel like heaven inside of you.

“You like it?” Namjoon asks gently, without pride. He looks sincere, like your opinion on his cock matters to him.

“I love it.”

You mouth at it gently, before opening wide to accept him in.

“C-careful, darlin’,” Namjoon warns. “It’s big—might not fit in your throat.”

Your eyes simper up at him for a moment, before you continue your plight and accept his length into your mouth.

You take it slow, torturously slow to him. You take your time to get acquainted with the feeling of his cock filling your mouth before you continue to take more and more until all at once he’s at the back of your throat and your nose is pressed to his toned abdomen.

Namjoon whines out loud, feels his brain turn to mush and his eyes roll to the back of his skull.

“Good lord,” he whispers. Your eyes are watering with tears and your gag reflex protests against the intrusion, so you quickly pull back out.

“Did I do okay?” You ask.

Namjoon’s cock throbs where it sits, right at the tip of your lips.

“You did fucking perfect, baby.”

It’s easy to see the pride flash across your face and you move to accept him all at once but he stops you.

“Don’t hurt yourself, doll. You can just move your mouth on it.” He grips the back of your head ever so gently and helps you descend, taking just enough to fill your mouth before he assists you in pulling back out. “Mmm, yeah, like that. Hollow those cheeks—shit, you’re a natural.”

You preen and bob on his length without the guidance of his hand. He drops his hands to push the hair from your face and as you work his cock in your mouth with surprising finesse. A groan builds deep in his chest and he can feel his balls tighten and threaten to empty onto your pretty lips. But, he can’t have that.

He taps your cheeks gently, forcing you to look back at him. He nearly cums from the sight alone. Your big, beautiful eyes staring into his soul as if he’s lasso’d the stars just for you. Your mouth is full of his cock like it’s your home and Namjoon knows that it’s everywhere he wants you to be.

“I wanna cum inside that sweet pussy of yours, darlin’.”

You pull off with a pop, eyes widening at the sound and Namjoon thinks you look prettiest with a dusty blush across your cheeks—a color that matches the pink of your perky nipples.

“Lay down for me, baby,” he encourages, moving from the spot on the bed and allowing you to rest your pretty head on the down pillow.

He kisses over your neck and breasts sweetly, imprinting his adoration for you with each press of his lips. He laves over your nipples gently as he situates himself between your thighs. His hand grasps his cock and lines it up at your entrance, but doesn’t push in yet. He allows your dripping slick to coat the head of his cock as he warms your body up with his lips.

“You’re the prettiest girl in town. Hell, even the whole county.”

You whimper gently as he takes a nipple into his mouth and grazes it with his teeth.

“You wanna be my girl? You wanna be the Sheriff’s little wife?”

You nod and Namjoon peers up at you, eyes expectant for a verbal answer.

"Please” you whisper. “I’ve been sweet on you since I first met you, years ago.”

The sheriff licks your nipples gently.

“My pretty wife,” he coos. “You ready?”

Your legs tremble—a mixture of nerves and excitement as the man lifts himself up and kneels between your parted folds. His cock feels thick and hot at the entrance of your heated core and you’re gasping for more.

Namjoon presses forward and takes his time as he enters you, knowing the stretch will be new for you. He leans down to kiss your lips gently as he moves in, hoping the sweetness of the embrace will soften the sting of his cock.

It feels like heaven and hell. The sting burns you, but it easily simmers down to a low flame of desire, of pleasure. Namjoon licks into your mouth and you eagerly accept him, arms wrapping around his neck to bring him closer. His tongue explores and seeks purchase—you’re loath to deny the handsome officer as you return the actions easily.

He pulls his lips away as he bottoms out inside you, panting. He needs the stillness, himself. Your cunt is so tight, so hot and accepting of his hard cock that he feels near the edge of his sanity already.

“You all right, love?” He asks, eyes checking yours for any signs of trouble.

The burn quickly ebbs away to nothing more than a slight smolder. He fills you completely, and it feels like he’s making a home for himself within you—one you’re welcome to him constructing again and again.

“Yes,” your voice is deep and husky. Your eyes are ablaze with a sudden passionate need for more. “Please, show me how it’s done, cowboy.”

Namjoon needs no more—he pulls his hips back gently and thrusts back into you with ease. You’re soaked, and the slide is tight, but slick. He moans gently as he drops his head to your ear to kiss and lick at the sensitive skin there and to whisper his sweet nothings as he sets a pace.

“You feel like heaven,” he whispers. “God, I’ve dreamed of the way you would feel underneath me.”

Your legs open even further to allow more of him and his pace eagerly picks up speed. The sound of skin slapping on skin soon fills the room and Namjoon continues his litany of love.

“Doin’ so good for me, baby, so fuckin’ good. You’re the perfect little wife for me. This cunt was meant for me, wasn’t it, my sweet?”

Speaking coherently is not a task you can handle now. Namjoon’s cock is fucking into you with a depth and speed that feels like fucking paradise and all your brain can comprehend are his sweet epithets he whispers to you and the way your core burns and sizzles with need. You can feel the tightness return in your belly, the tight coil that pulls tight, tight, tighter. You’re nearly at the end.

“I wanna fill you up, my love.” His pace is becoming erratic, with less finesse as he charges towards his own finish line. “Going to fuck a baby into you, darlin’. Get you nice and full—fuuuuck, cum for me, please. Let me feel that hot cunt cum around my cock.”

His words burn your ears with depravity, but it only forces that tight coil even further. It pulls until it nearly steals all the breath in your lungs as it throws you over the edge. Your walls pulse and constrict around him, making him whine out loud to match the crying whimpers of your climax.

“That’s my girl, oh god, I’m gonna cum.”

It’s all the warning you get before the hot stripes of his seed plaster your walls, coating each inch of you with a warmth that pools deep inside you. Your whines silence as he presses his lips to yours while his cock continues to shudder within you. He kisses you hard, deeper than you’ve ever been kissed before and you hold him so close to you, you fear you may never separate again. Not that it would be a bad thing.

“Shit,” Namjoon sighs as he finally feels his climax subside. His cock finishes its weak pulses, and he gently pulls out of your spent hole, watching his seed drool out of you.

“Mm, I think your little pussy needs to look like this every single night, don’t you?”

You peer down, leaning up on your elbows to watch as his white cum dribbles out of you and onto the feather bed.

“Yes, Sheriff.” Your smile is coy and sweet, a hint of humor in your worn out voice.

He scurries to the bathroom to get a warm, wet flannel and returns to your legs to clean you carefully. Your heart feels like it may burst. He cares for you so sweetly, wants you comfortable—wants you to feel loved.

“Take me home, cowboy,” you whisper as he presses his lips to your legs after he finishes cleaning you.

Namjoon assists you in dressing, kisses all over your bare skin as he laces you back into your dress. You both can’t stop staring at each other, eyes filled with promise and a future full of each other and no one else.

He guides you down the stairs, back towards the dance and you try to fight the blush that blooms on your cheeks. You’re sure your mused hair tells everyone in the room what you got up to upstairs, and you pray your father has left early.

Namjoon slides the key back to Jungkook once they reach the bar, his other hand tightly laced with your own. Jungkook gives you both a look, then smirks.

“Your Papa asked your whereabouts,” he muses as he dries a glass with a rag.

His smirk grows wider.

“Told him you were shining the Sheriff's gun. Looks like I was right.”

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sexbirthdeaths · 4 years ago

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if i had an orchard

ship: morgan x garcia

summary: penelope is constantly shifting, growing with each passing day as a sapling grows to a tree. with each day he learns more and more what metamorphosis looks like, up close and personal - there are some things a book cannot teach you. and he can’t look away.

warnings: mentions of minor character death (hank morgan, the boy morgan finds in the junkyard), episode 3x09 “penelope”, rotting fruit/maggot imagery, religious imagery, implied murder (boy in junkyard), toxic masculinity

words: 3000

Derek is eight when his dad takes him camping for the first time. It’s the summer of 81, Sarah is entering middle school and Desiree is about to start Kindergarten, so after all of the stress of school applications, Hank proposes they just go out, enjoy the sights of Illinois.

So they go to Buffalo Rock, and he loves it, loves the smell of nature and the feeling of the sun on his skin. He plays soccer with his dad by the campsite whilst Sarah burns through her summer reading list and Desiree cries because she doesn’t like the bugs and she’s too small to play with the boys, and it’s the best summer of his life.

One night, his father pulls a bag of apples from the rucksack, suggests they bake them in some tinfoil over the fire. So while Fran puts Desiree away to bed, Hank sits him down by the campfire and shows him how to pare an apple with a penknife. Slow, using his thumb to stabilise the blade, careful not to cut his finger.

He cuts it straight through the core, hands Derek one of the slices to parcel up carefully in tinfoil. And once those are on the flames, he gives him the knife, another apple from the bag.

“Be careful,” Hank guides him slowly, hand hovering over Dereks’ own, “You don’t want to cut yourself.”

Derek peels it clean and precise, he’s always been a bit of a perfectionist like that. But when he cuts down the core of the apple, and the two pieces fall away in his palm, something is wrong. Very wrong.

His hand retracts in an instant, sends the apple flying, maggots spilling onto the ground into a writhing mass. His stomach is churning, twisting itself in disgust at the sight, and his father stomps it with his boot.

“That one was rotten,” Hank says, pulls the knife from Derek’s hand, “No good. It’s no good.”

Even when the apples are done baking, he can’t stand the sight of them, can’t stomach it after seeing the rotten fruit.

“Tenderness is a sign of rot,” Hank informs him as he eats his slices, “They shouldn’t be soft. That’s how you know they’re bad.”

And he takes that sentiment with him. Even when his father dies, especially when his father dies. He doesn’t cry at the funeral, he starts lashing out at anyone and everyone because to be soft is a sign of rot, of corruption at the core, it makes you undesirable and unwanted and sickening. Keep the toughest rind and you will come out the other side strong.

So he picks fights, even with the kids he knows will beat him. He’s always been a tall kid but Rodney has always been taller, stronger, but to turn the other cheek is a soft man’s path, and Derek Morgan is not soft.

He picks fights and he loses them, comes home battered and bruised and his mother will fuss over him, press a bag of frozen peas to his eye and sing him to sleep. She doesn’t care if he’s too old for it, he’ll always be her son. And even when the pain runs more than skin-deep, crawls through his veins and writhes like a maggot, sickly and decay-drawn, she will cradle his body like he isn’t crumbling from the inside out.

When Derek is 11, it’s the first Thanksgiving since his dad died. There’s an uncomfortable silence in the house as Sarah and Fran work on dinner, and Desiree’s out in the backyard with the neighbour’s kids. His grandparents aren’t coming this year, something about the Chicago winters being cruel on their arthritis.

There’s a faint layer of snow already beginning to settle outside, and he can see the constellations of snowflakes in Desiree’s hair as she finally bids the neighbours farewell and comes tumbling inside, ready to bound up the stairs.

“You promised you’d help me with the apple pie,” Sarah chides as she scoops Desiree up in her arms. The girl laughs loud and gleeful, the first real laugh since the day began, wriggles as she tries to escape her older sister’s grip. Desiree is a big girl now, 6 years old and wide-eyed and too mischievous for her own damn good, and she’s too big now for Sarah to pick her up with ease but she tries anyway.

Derek steps out, takes Desiree from Sarah’s grasp and slings her over his shoulder, grinning at the shrieks he hears.

“Come on, Des,” He laughs, “You promised!”

So, whilst his mom cooks the turkey and the mash and the myriad of thanksgiving side dishes, the three Morgan children converge in the living room, and work on the apples. Sarah peels them and Derek slices them, and Desiree just watches with her big brown eyes and pretends she's helping, because Lord knows no one trusts her with a real knife.

When they’re done there’s a pile of peels in a bowl. Their mom takes it, a sparkle in her eye.

“You know,” she says, grinning and setting down her knife, “There’s an old wives’ tale that if you throw the peel behind your shoulder, it will spell your husband’s name.”

Desiree and Sarah dissolve into giggles. Desiree’s too young to know what true love like that really feels like, too young to be thinking about marriage and life as an adult. And Sarah’s approaching it closer and closer with each passing day, she’s had her heart broken by careless boys to want nothing but a guarantee that the next boy will be the one.

So they take the peels and throw them. Desiree’s looks sort of like an L from the right angle, and Sarah’s is an A, if you use a bit of imagination, and Derek doesn’t get anything because he refuses to try it.

“That’s for girls,” he scoffs, puffs his chest up like a proud robin all red and strong.

“You’re impossible,” Is the response he gets.

When he is 15 he finds a boy’s body in the junkyard. All battered and bruised and broken and he wishes he could press a bag of frozen peas to his head like his mother had done, tell this boy it would all be okay. But it won’t be okay, and the case is never solved because the police don’t seem to care for kids like Derek or the boy, seem for focused on pinning things on them than catching their killers.

When he sees the policeman shake the community centre owner’s hand, Derek knows his killer will not be caught.

He goes door to door and pools up enough money to buy a headstone, and he visits it whenever he can, touches the cool rock and feels himself break. And he doesn’t know this boy, know his face or his name, but they feel connected. Through space and time and tragedy, maybe in another life they were friends. Maybe in another life it was him, and he would be the one rotting in the ground.

Move forward a few years and he feels like something inside of him is broken. Like he’s been torn apart and stitched back together again but something went wrong in the process. He feels moldy, he thinks one day as he’s filling out college applications, disgusting. If he could he’d rip all his skin off and scrub himself spotless. But this runs deeper than skin.

He gets the football scholarship, and his mother cries when he reads the letter because her baby is going to Northwestern and he’s gonna be something great, bigger than himself, he’s gonna change the world. And the success feels like the pinprick in the lid for him, like he can finally breathe as there’s a chance for him to go. Leave those rotten parts of him behind.

After college and the Chicago department, he finds himself starting in the BAU. The team is pretty small - Hotch is a hard-ass and Gideon is, well, Gideon, and the liaison stays in her office too much for Derek to really know who she is, but the BAU feels right for him. Gideon’s got some kid on his radar and so does Hotch, but they’re both so frustratingly secretive that he has no clue who they could be.

He fits right in like a puzzle piece that’s been missing for so long, takes on a role as the ladies’ man and the handsome coworker who flirts with you over coffee, but also the guy who’ll sit with child victims for hours to make sure they’re alright. Hotch hasn’t booted him yet so he figures he’s doing something right.

And then he meets her.

Penelope Garcia, she introduces herself as, and she’s so unlike any girl he’s ever met before with her long, dark hair and she acts like she’s the smartest person in the room (and after a few hours interrogating her, he figures that sentiment isn’t too far off). She’s got these big curious eyes and glittery pink acrylics and he can see the person that sits behind the dark facade.

They don’t hit it off, at first, because he’s proud and she’s defensive and he has a job to complete, but then Hotch informs him of the deal that’s been made, so he better start trying to get along with her. She gets along great with JJ, they eat lunches together in Garcia’s ‘batcave’ and JJ’s finally starting to open up a bit more, actually talks to Derek at the coffee machine in the mornings and asks how he’s been. Before, she’d talk to him, or Hotch, or Gideon even, with strained words and avoiding eye contact.

The first time he calls her babygirl is the first time he sees her properly flustered, cheeks red and stammering as she types away at her keyboard and Hotch gives him the mother of all death glares because they’re trying to run an FBI investigation here, Derek. But it makes him smile, seeing her all blushed pink, and he decides he likes it.

She pretends she doesn’t struggle sometimes, and he sees it. The mass of figurines and posters in her office are just a distraction technique - he’s well versed in those - and he knows just how taxing it must be for her, seeing all those awful things. She loves and she loves like it’s the only thing she knows how to do, full-bodied and all in, and some days he wonders if she’s really capable of hatred at all.

“How can you do it? How do you deal with it all?” She asks one day over coffee, voice small and sad. She’s seen some awful things over the past few days, and he wraps her up tightly in her arms. The worst thing is - he doesn’t know what to say. For as long as he can remember, he’s just been pushing it away and ignoring it. Letting it sit inside him and simmer, rip him from the inside out and just pray he’ll be able to pick up the pieces once he finally falls apart.

Things shift, change, over the years as people come and go. There’s a new kid, one Gideon’s been raving about for months who’s finally gotten all the necessary qualifications, even if some exams had to be waived. And he gets hurt, gets hurt bad, and Derek wonder’s if that’s the straw that breaks the camel’s back because it isn’t long before Gideon leaves. There’s a new man in his place and they’re still trying to trust him, but he just isn’t Gideon, he isn’t the mentor and the peacekeeper and the caretaker that they’ve all grown to need.

Penelope is constantly shifting, growing with each passing day as a sapling grows to a tree. With each day he learns more and more what metamorphosis looks like, up close and personal - there are some things a book cannot teach you. And he can’t look away.

She has a date. She has a date and he doesn’t know why there’s this ache in his chest, like something’s been scraped out from him and left him hollow. But it’s her choice, he figures, he doesn’t own her. And then he gets the phone call.

Shot, he hears Hotch say over the phone, voice crackled and rough, and it’s like everything in him shuts down. Like someone’s ripping him apart limb by limb. That motherfucker. He will not know kindness from me. Do you need me? He asks, but Hotch just sighs.

She needs you.

And he’s driving to the hospital but he’s so pissed he can barely even focus, consumed by the rage bubbling within him, he wants to find that son of a bitch and make him feel a thousand times what Penelope felt. His skin is itching like thousands of maggots are crawling across him, it’s so overwhelming.

He feels rotten, like he’s so full of pain he can barely breathe, and his cheeks are wet and he doesn’t know why they are until he reaches up to touch them, realises he’s crying.

Men like Morgan do not cry. It’s a sign of weakness, he thinks, and you cannot afford to be weak. Not here, not now, you have never been safe enough to be weak. You bottle it up and ignore it, because to be soft is to be rotten.

He flashes his badge to the hospital receptionist and she informs him with pitying eyes that Penelope is in emergency surgery, that he can wait until she’s out and hear the verdict. So he collapses into the waiting room chairs, unable to look at the others, waits for Penelope to be okay.

Waiting lasts a century. All he wants is to take her in his arms and let her know she’s going to be okay, but he can’t. He can’t even guarantee that it will all be fine, because from what he’s heard it’s a bad wound from a good shot and it’s not looking good.

See, Penelope is an apple tree. She gives and she gives and she asks for nothing in return but a spot in the sun and a love her body has been starved of for years. And all Derek wants is to drown in blossom petals and cider, to drown himself in her warmth. All she asks for is to be loved, and that bastard didn’t even try. Derek will try, he will try and he will pray to a God he does not even believe in (Goddamnit he’s trying, he’s trying) if it means he can love her, if it means that she will be there to receive his love.

When the surgeon comes back, gives them the news, everything in him relaxes. Like the tightly-wound coil of a music box as the lever is finally released. She’s okay, she will be okay, no one must die today.

Her makeup is gone, hair a knotted mass, she’s traded out the bright clothes and heavy jewellry for a hospital gown. And she’s as breathtaking as ever, and Morgan can’t look away. He wants to reach out and hold her hand, press his forehead against hers, let her know that he’s here and everything is going to be okay, tell her how glad he is that she’s alive.

“You really love her, huh?” JJ asks with a smile, looks up at Morgan with a piercing, knowing gaze once they file out of the room, split up the group. She’s cradling a to-go coffee cup in her hands and disshevelled - she’d been the first one at the hospital, been in charge of letting everyone else know.

It’s JJ that knows Penelope the best, if not Derek. She knows the ins-and-outs of their relationship, she can see what they’re too scared to say to eachother. Love, he thinks, this is what this is.

“I do.” He nods.

“So tell her- show her, god knows she needs you right now.”

He waits until the others have left Penelope’s hospital room. The thing is - he flirts with her all the time, has himself branded as a ladies man, but it’s been so long since he’s had something real. He’s always been too afraid to show that tender side that a relationship requires.

But he’s tired of holding back. Penelope softens him, turns all his harsh edges hazy, makes his heart wrench in his chest. He has forgotten what it means to be rotten.

So he sits himself at the edge of her bed, doesn’t care if any of the others can see him through the window, all that matters is here and now.

“I almost lost you,” he says, voice soft, “I was so scared- I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if you’d gone besides tear the bastard apart.”

He scoots closer, chair handle digging into him as he leans into her. His hand cups her face, feels her warm skin against his cool palm, heartbeat thrumming under his fingertips. She’s alive, good god, and she’s here with him, and maybe everything will be okay.

His forehead presses against Penelope’s own and she seems to welcome the movement, twists a handful of his shirt in her grip like she can’t bear the thought of ever letting him go. Derek has never wanted to be loved more than right now, loved by her.

He’d bite the apple for her, Derek thinks, swallow it down seeds and all. Because he loved her, he didn’t care if the fruit was rotten or wretched, damnation was a gift if he was condemned alongside her. He’d run to the edges of the world where all that could reach them was the moon and the stars, and he’d tell Penelope how he hung them just for her.

Kissing her feels like breaking the water’s surface. Being reborn, baptised under her hands, and for what feels like the first time, he can breathe.

#morcia #derek morgan #penelope garcia #criminal minds fic #derek morgan fic #penelope garcia fic #derek morgan x penelope garcia #penelope garcia x derek morgan #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #david rossi #jason gideon #jj jareau #jennifer jareau #criminal minds fanfiction #userpenemily

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kaiqarker · 4 years ago

Text

bottle green reflections | xavier plympton

pairing: xavier plympton x reader

warnings: angst?

summary: even after years of being bound to the same place, you and xavier still don’t see eye to eye, and it seems like you never will. until, however, secrets are revealed and the both of you delve past the surface to uncover something that changes everything.

a/n: this was originally supposed to be a smut but it felt right to end here. maybe a part 2?

“I HATE HIM.” SHE OUTWARDLY EXPRESSED to chet, who was sprawled out on the dock beside her. It felt as though she was only talking to the open air, though, because chet barely acknowledged her declaration.

eventually, there was subtle movement seen out of the corner of her eye, chet shifting to get more comfortable, and all he managed to give her was an “uh huh”.

she didn’t let his lack of enthusiasm bother her; it was one of the reasons she liked chet and befriended him to begin with. even as a ghost, he was a pretty laid back person. he spent most of his time sunbathing, huddled up on a log next to a brewing campfire, and getting frivolous with just about any other ghost here — besides her. she was one of the few spirits left here that had yet to put her hands all over his impressive, athletic body, and that was a mutual decision. not that neither of them were particularly unattractive, because they were, but their unexpected bond meant too much to them to bend the platonic nature of their relationship.

her attention towards her nonchalant best friend, who was sporting sunglasses and allowing his skin to golden with the absence of a shirt, averted and she was once again squinting at the three figures across the lake. there was montana in her bold red bikini, another one of her friends and one of the people that made the afterlife not so boring. her boyfriend, trevor, was at her side, an arm swung around her neck while he had his head thrown back in laughter. that was no surprise; montana and trevor always seemed happy around each other.

then, finally, there was him.

she could see his vibrant pink swim trunks from here, how low they hung on his waist and contrasted with his pale skin. she watched him skip a stone, throwing his arm back, flicking his wrist, and sending it forward. he was good at it, which was disappointing. she would have loved to see him fail.

even through narrowed eyes and pursed lips, just like all the other spiteful times she gazed at him from afar, she couldn’t deny how beautiful he was. dazzling blue eyes accompanied the smooth planes and angular structure of his symmetrical face. his bleached hair, which was normally styled to perfection, was slicked back and wet from swimming. she was glad she wasn’t close enough to see the droplets of water glide over his taunt body, the muscle he normally hid underneath pastel clothing now on show. she despised any thoughts that deemed him attractive.

it wasn’t long before he stilled completely, his back facing the beaming couple and his throwing-arm going limp by his side. his head tilted, and his eyes that were casually roaming the lake stopped and settled on the dock. she held her breath when he noticed her, knowing she should turn away and feign indifference, but she didn’t. she began to even wonder if he could recognize her from the distance.

when his lips curved into a smirk and he went as far as to wave at her, it was clear that he could. his taunting gestures were enough to make her growl lowly, that helpless feeling dissolving into something familiar, her burning hatred for the one and only xavier plympton.

not being able to stare at that stupid look on his face for any longer, she let herself fall backwards onto the heated planks of the dock. “i really hate him.”

“xavier isn’t as bad as you think.” chet spoke up from beside her. this time he pushed his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose and turned his head towards her.

“i know he’s your friend and all, but i have a valid reason to hate him.” she protested, face scrunched up in annoyance because even though she was talking to chet, she couldn’t stop thinking about xavier and every part of his maddening behavior. “he murdered me.”

chet sighed at her response, and for once, he appeared conflicted. he opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to figure out what to say.

“actually, you know-“

she interrupts him before he could finish. “and you know, after years of being stuck here together, not once has he shown any remorse. mostly everyone is evolved now and if they had a murderous phase, they talk about how they regret what they’ve done. xavier has never apologized to me. he’s never tried to make it up to me. in fact, i think he likes how mad i am. gives him some sick sense of pleasure in death. he wants to torture me.”

“he does enjoy getting you riled up, i can tell you that.” chet agrees. he tips his sunglasses back up and stares upward at the tinted sky. she has the urge to continue talking, because even though it may not seem like it, chet was a really great listener.

instead, she decides to allow him some peace and quiet. she leans up on her elbows, daring to glance across the lake again. relief washes over her when she sees that the trio were no longer there and had wandered elsewhere. she didn’t dwell on the slight twinge of disappointment she had.

humming delightedly, the girl shuffled upwards until she was sitting on the edge and her feet skimmed the surface of the water. she always desperately craved moments like this one, moments of tranquility. when you’re a ghost, cursed to roam the campground where numerous massacres occurred, it was rare.

along the relatively still waters, something caught her eye when peering downward. ever-so-slowly floating in her direction, a glass bottle bobbed along the surface. it was sealed with a cork and reflected green hues of sunlight, and as it drifted closer, she could make out that there was something inside.

reaching down before it diverted more out of her path, her fingertips managed to wrap around the neck, lifting it from the lake. she examined it with her small hands, brows furrowing in concentration. she doesn’t know how or why the bottle had managed to be thrown into the lake, but after seeing that there’s a folded piece of paper inside, she figures that will give her answers.

there’s barley any noise when she yanks the cork out. she tips the bottle upside down, slender fingers allowing her to slide the note out. after she unfolds it and her curiosity simmers, her calmness is thrown out the window.

do you like what you see?

- xavier

nostrils flared, her eyes roam the expanse of the lake again. although he was no longer out in the open, she wouldn’t be surprised if he was hidden in the surrounding trees, waiting to see her reaction to his note in a bottle. she could picture himself clearly with his provoking smile and devious eyes, basking in how irritated she was.

with that image imprinted into her mind, she balled up the slip of paper and tossed it back into the water. she was going to do the same with the bottle, ready to watch it fill with water and sink to the bottom, but once she grasped it, she got distracted by her own reflection.

a clenched jaw, unforgiving eyes, a mouth morphed into a snarl stared back at her. she was almost taken back by how furious she looked even though she felt the rage invade all of her senses. it only took one simple action from him to set her off. she couldn’t remember anyone ever making her feel like this, so boldly and so intensely.

she vowed then and there that their dynamic was going to change. it was time for xavier to get a taste of his own medicine, a plan already forming in her determined mind.

SNICKERING AND THE CRINKLING OF beer cans resonated around the campfire. chet was settled on the log beside her, chugging his fifth can like his afterlife depended on it. montana and trevor were across from them, whispering things to each other that, even out of ear shot, she knew were dirty. a few others lingered, wanting in on the two cases of beer left by a couple when they were spooked out of the camp earlier today. they rarely had people wander in nowadays, but it was better to scare them away rather than let them become apart of the bloodshed.

xavier was nowhere to be found, which was extremely disappointing. she had ran through ideas all day, accumulating all the vile words and maddening gestures she could think of. she was well aware of his history, knew exactly what buttons to push and sensitive topics to bring up. she could picture the darkening of his crystal blue eyes and the balling up of his fists when she finally got him to snap, becoming that ruthless person she knew he still was.

it didn’t matter how many roaming outsiders he spared or charming smiles he offered to brighten up everyone’s doomed existence. xavier has and always will be someone she could never trust. and if he was going to go out of his way to torment her for the rest of eternity, she would do the same.

no longer having the motivation to act like she was actually having fun, she sat her own can by her feet and rested her chin in her palm. at first, she glanced up at the sky, seeing the same vast blackness she always did when night draped over the camp; she couldn’t remember the last time she saw stars. then, her eyes roamed the circle of fellow ghosts, settling on chet after one rotation.

chet looked back at her, a smile slowly spreading across his flushed face. he seemed rather lively for someone who was dead. “giving up?”

“giving up?” the girl repeated, frowning. “giving up on what?”

“waiting for him.” chet answers. her confusion becomes more evident on her face, something that makes him chuckle lowly. “don’t think i haven’t noticed. you always get like this when he’s not around.”

“like what?” she asks defensively. his words are outrageous to her that she leans back a little.

“you get so... antsy. you do anything to preoccupy yourself and when that doesn’t work, you just pout and look around like a lost puppy.”

“i do not-“ she denies before getting interrupted.

“oh, you so do. because whether you realize it or not, xavier excites you. he makes things interesting. he may piss you off, but you hang onto his every word just the same. i used to wonder why you’d never shut up about him, but i get it now. i’m glad you have someone that makes our reality... not so bleak.” he nods to himself, content with the way he voiced his thoughts.

“you are so far off. you’re drunk, probably. i don’t know if ghosts can get drunk, but being hammered is the only way to explain your lunacy.” she scoffs, receding her stare and forcing her eyes on the ground.

if she were alive, this is when her heart would be sputtering inside her chest. her lungs would contract harshly and breathing wouldn’t be such a simple task. but she still felt the weight of it, the strain of everything she was feeling. she couldn’t exactly pinpoint what, but it was consuming every fragment of her fractured soul. she just understood that chet was wrong. he had to be.

“it’s like that for him, too, you know? hell, maybe even more.”

this persuades her to turn her head back in her friend’s direction, unwillingly invested now. there’s this newfound vulnerability in her eyes, and you wouldn’t even think for a moment that they were ever filled with hatred. “what?”

“he lives to tick you off — metaphorically speaking, of course. at first, it was the only way you’d pay attention to him, so that’s why he did it. but we all see that look xavier gets when he’s arguing with you now. it’s that same excitement you have. you both get so invested that it seems like nothing else matters to either of you, and maybe it doesn’t. maybe there’s a reason for that.” chet concludes, gazing at her stunned features.

there’s no witty rebuttal or unkind jab that comes to mind. the only thing running through her head is xavier, which, as it turns out, isn’t something out of the ordinary. it had always been obvious that xavier liked to pick a fight with her, but to accuse her of liking it, too? of spending the moments of time in between anticipating them? it was out of line. or... was it?

she was planning on indulging with xavier tonight. she had spent the day calculating how to get him fuming, and there was no question that those thoughts of him in misery pleased her. she tried to remember if it had always been like that between them. if, without being aware, every move she’s made, everything she’s done, was because of xavier. had she really let her distaste for him consume her that much? to the point where she craved a daily dose of their poisonous exchange?

“i...” she pauses, trying to think of the right words — any words really. “how could i possibly enjoy spending time with someone i hate?”

“there’s a difference between being upset with someone and hating them. and even more so, you’re upset about something that didn’t even happen.” chet laughs lightly, picking up her can that she barely sipped out of and taking a drink.

she tilts her head. “you’re losing me again.”

chet sighs, before giving her a deadpanned glance. “listen, i’m not supposed to tell you this because xavier is my friend and i was sworn to secrecy. but you’re my friend, too. and i think i’m drunk. so, i’m going to tell you what everyone around here already knows: xavier wasn’t the one who killed you.”

“what?” she said a little too loudly than she expected, but the others were too caught up in their own conversations to notice. she swallowed hard, trying to gain the composure she once had.

“he took the blame, but he didn’t do it.”

“why would he do that?”

“i don’t know. to make it easier, i guess.”

“easier?” she echoed, that familiar spark of anger resurfacing again. “how in the hell does lying to me about the identity of my killer make things easier?”

chet’s eyes flicker over her shoulder, lips tucking into a thin line. “why don’t you ask him yourself?”

pivoting her neck, she’s graced with the sight of xavier finally approaching the campfire. he steps out of the shadows, the orange hues of the fire flickering over him. montana greets him casually before trevor squeezes her thigh and she’s back to laughing giddily with her boyfriend. he nods at her briefly in acknowledgement before scanning the group, halting when he sees her. his lip twitches, threatening to break into a grin, when he notices an empty space for him to sit.

still so overwhelmed by her conversation with chet, all she could do was watch him come closer. her lips were parted, her face held an unreadable expression, and she remained motionless when he sat down right next to her, sighing delightedly while he tossed an arm around her shoulders.

“there’s my girl. what’s with the face? not happy to see me?” xavier mused, leaning down closer to her. his eyebrows were raised from the question and his mouth spread into a playful grin, but the most genuine part of his expression were his eyes, desperate for a real answer.

her gaze rakes over him, not even trying to hold onto her rage anymore. she searches for anything different. what she could have overlooked. as if answers might be written over his ageless skin while all those lies rolled off his swift tongue.

xavier notices the lack of fury in her eyes, the passionate hatred replaced by this hollow daze. his teasing smirk drops. he blinks away the facade. until he’s staring at her with a seriousness that penetrates through her conflicted feelings.

he overwhelms her to the point where she shoots up from the log, shaking her head subtly as if to physically rattle herself out of his influence. she just knew she had to get away from him. he had controlled her enough already, altered her way of thinking too much.

“y/n!” he calls after her once she leaves the circle and makes a beeline to the edge of the forest, undoubtedly taking one of the many paths that snakes its way around the camp. he stands up, turning towards chet. “what’s wrong with her?”

“i told her.” chet doesn’t even bother to lie, completely over anything resembling secrecy.

xavier catches on to what he’s saying instantly. “you what?”

“i gave you a chance to do it yourself, and you didn’t. you just kept on having those petty little fights — which everyone here knows is basically just flirting when it comes to you two. so spare me all your bullshit. i got it out there and now it’s your turn to make it right.”

he grumbles under his breath before abandoning his conversation with chet and taking off after her.

with a flashlight that was previously tucked away in his coat pocket, he follows the sound of snapping branches and shuffling leaves. for a ghost, she was easy to detect. he remembered all those times he teased her for her lack of subtly, watching her face became all furrowed brows and pouty lips as a result. he always loved the reaction he got from her; even though most of the time it was from aggravation, it never failed to reel him in.

she felt every word that left his lips, and in return, he felt everything about her. he felt every piercing stare, every provoked push against his chest, and every wisp of tangible tension that was in the air whenever they were too close. being dead, there isn’t a lot of things that make you feel like that - or at all. but that was never a problem for them.

in death, they were more alive than they ever were before.

it doesn’t take long for xavier to catch up with her, seeing the moonlight bounce off of her silky hair and the movement of her body as she continued to jog. he followed her until they were out of the woods and near the lake, watching her from the tree line while she slows down, thinking she was alone. she wraps her arms around herself, shuffling slowly to the end of the dock.

after taking a deep breath, xavier continues towards her quietly. he stops right when his feet hit the dock, the thump of his shoes on the old wooden boards alerting her enough to turn around. her wounded expression deepens further at his presence. she couldn’t believe she was more hurt by him lying to her than she was when she thought he committed that awful deed, but there was no denying it anymore. xavier didn’t end her life, but he ruined it all the same.

“let me explain.” he pleaded, taking a cautious step forward. even in the darkness, she could make out the desperation in his eyes. she almost scoffed at his audacity to display any sort of remorse.

“explain what, xavier?! that all these years i’ve been here it’s all been a big lie? that you decided to swoop in and toy with me when i was at my most vulnerable because there was nothing better for you to do? i accepted my fate. i accepted that i died because i was at the wrong place at the wrong time. but that’s not really true anymore is it? i don’t know what happened to me. apparently everyone else does, but i don’t. do you not see that because of your lack of decency, everything i know has been turned upside down?” she ranted, a different kind of fury rattling her, one fueled by pain.

xavier shook his head, offended by the conclusions she’s jumping to. “i did not toy with you! that is not why-“

“that is all you ever do! and i’m sick of it! all of it. i hate you. i hate you so much, you selfish, inconsiderate liar.” she seethes out, tears prickling at her waterline.

this sets xavier off as well, fuming at all of her interruptions and false allegations. he strides forward, forgetting about giving her space. she tries to step back in response, but she’s halted by the edge of the dock; the last thing she needed right now is to go for a midnight swim.

“you hate me?” xavier growled when he reached her, automatically met by a harsh shove to the chest, but he barely faltered. “you hate me so much? good. that was the plan. i did it all for you!”

she keeps her venomous glare even when he pulls her roughly by the arm, their faces closer than they’ve ever been before. at first, she fights him, trying to wriggle herself out of his hold. but once she settles on the hypnotic intensity within his stare, she becomes motionless.

“please, enlighten me, xavier. please tell me how much you enjoyed deceiving me for my entire afterlife and did so for me.” she murmurs, the remains of hostility still there.

his shoulders slacked, anger dissipating, and he’s ready, after all this time, to say the truth. “you needed someone to hate. someone accessible. not someone who you knew slipped away and had all the time in the world when yours ran out.

“before margret came back, i spent over a decade taking my revenge out in all the wrongs ways. that kind of injustice, that kind of unfairness, can twist you in death. it can make you into a person you don’t recognize. i didn’t want that for you. so, yeah. i lied and made everyone else keep the secret. but i didn’t do it out of cruelty. i did it because, even as strangers, i couldn’t bare to see you go through what i did.”

she took in his soft-spoken words, casting her gaze downward to think. her body slumped and her mind tried to comprehend what exactly he meant. someone who had all the time in the world when she didn’t? did that mean...

her eyes flicker back up to his, a single tear sliding down her cheek. “are saying it was...” she couldn’t even finish the sentence.

“it was your sister.” he nodded, letting his hand fall back to his side. she didn’t bother to move away from him.

“oh.” she whispered.

she remembered the day she died vividly. she recalled being persuaded to the abandoned camp by her sister, who was a fanatic for supposedly haunted places. they weren’t particularly close; her sister had always had a competitive and apathetic personality. she honestly wasn’t surprised by the truth. it made sense. her sister always had the tendency to stab her in the back, and it looks like she did literally as well.

there was probably a time where she would have resented her and the situation and spiraled out of control. but now, standing in front of the person who sacrificed so much and carried a burden he didn’t have to, she knew that wasn’t her anymore. she’s grown into what her existence is, made peace with it.

although, things might have been different if it wasn’t for xavier. he did make her who she was, but it wasn’t for the worst like she previously believed. it was for the better. he made her better.

“i’m sorry if i made things worse for you. that wasn’t my intention. i was gonna tell you sooner, but i thought you’d never talk to me again. and the thought of going on for eternity without you, it’s worse than anything i can possibly imagine.” xavier sighed. his fingers twitch, itching to touch her but fearing repulsion.

she returned back to reality at his declaration, seeing him in a way she’s never have before. the anguish contorting her face faded into this peculiar look, one that made xavier nervous as he awaited her response. he was anxiously scanning every aspect of her expression but missed the fascination in her eyes, the very thing that made her grab his face and pull him down so his lips met hers.

the kiss only lasts a few seconds before she pulls back, surprised herself by the impulsive move. her hands are still pressed against his cheeks, holding him close while he looks at her with bewilderment. their breaths mingle together, and he almost can’t comprehend what she did. that after all the fighting, secrets, and vows of resentment, she kissed him.

she kissed him like they were standing under the porch lights of her childhood home or swaying intimately on the dance floor in a technicolor-lit gymnasium. she kissed him like they were stopped at a red light in the dead of night and like they were stargazing on damp grass with only a thin blanket to protect them. she kissed him like she meant it.

and when he wrapped his fingers around the base of her neck, thumb caressing her cheek, he kissed her the same way.

there’s desperation behind it all, behind every tight grasp, heavy exhale, and swipe of their tongues. they revel in the closeness of their bodies and that buzz that’s igniting every single fragment of their lost souls. it’s everything they never knew they needed and everything they’re never going to let go of. it’s relief. it’s peace.

“i hate you.” she mumbles against his lips, feeling him smile.

“i love you.” he murmurs. the certainty in tone makes her eyes hazily open half-way, finding his blue eyes staring back at her. “i’ve loved you for forever.”

she kisses him again, harder, telling him all he needs to know. his arms encircle her waist. her fingers rake through his hair. they’re so consumed by one another that they don’t hear the shuffling of incoming footsteps.

“well, i’ll be damn!” chet announces after a rowdy wolf-whistle, chuckling.

both of them immediately pull back at the interruption, turning to see their friends huddled together at the other end of the dock. they all cheer and clap enthusiastically, cupping their hands around their mouths. what looks to be a contagious grin is etched onto everyone’s faces.

“oh no. this is not happening,” she says, mostly to herself, but xavier replies to her.

“unfortunately, it is.”

“we were wondering what was taking you so long! guess we know now.” montana laughs, leaning back onto trevor who wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

she groaned, burying her head into xavier’s neck. he breathed out a slight chuckle, running a hand through her hair, before he averted his attention back to their nosy friends.

“hey, perverts! would you go and leave me and my girl alone please? we don’t need an audience.” xavier tells them in what he tries to make a stern voice, but his uncontrollable smile is proof enough that he’s overflowing with happiness.

“alright. come on, let’s get them some privacy. i don’t need to see xavier’s bare ass... again.” chet relents, being the first to retreat and head back to the campfire. the other follow him, waving goodbye and stumbling into the woods.

xavier pecks the top of her head, still tucked away into his shoulder. “they’re gone. you can kiss me again.”

“who says i want to kiss you again?” she rebuttals, lifting her face up to look at him again. his shining eyes light up the dark night.

“me,” he replies, and his mouth is molded to hers once more.

adjacent to the limb-entangled couple, the green bottle still rests, propped up against one of the dock’s pillars. it’s barely visible in the dark, but it’s reflecting the view of the two of them, delivering a memorable message without the need of a folded note.

#xavier plympton #ahs #ahs 1984 #cody fern #au #xavier plympton smut

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kryptsune · 4 years ago

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World Building Wednesday! (AU edition)~

The Hunt (Fellswap)

*I am going to start off with some basic information just to start!*

The Surface: The surface has been overrun by corrupt leaders. It is very much the concept of big brother. They are a council that presides over the affairs of the world. If you are seen as a threat you will be immediately thrown into “prison” without a trial. They hold occasional public trials in the guise of being fair. Just as WTU claims, the very concept of magic is a threat to them so those that have it are quickly disposed of but leaders don’t always do the dirty work themselves. No. In fact, they use another source by means of execution…the monsters. More accurately it is very similar to the idea of throwing your enemies into a kind of gladiatorial arena. It is not technically considered an execution if circumstances lead to death. The humans are not stupid they know what is going on. Some believe in rebellion against the state and some wonder if the monsters could fix their corrupt world. Either way, the corruption continues and they are not above tossing innocents into “the pit” if it suits their agenda. “The Pit” (aka the Underworld/Underground): The underworld is broken up into different factions by location. The only location without a faction or any type of ruler is The Ruins, because of its size and its isolation this is where humans try to reach for some form of Salvation. Asgore, the caretaker, has made it into an encampment for those that have fallen (the innocent ones). It is almost like a refugee camp. Unfortunately very few make it to Asgore’s safe haven. He does his best. Poor goat dad. He is not like canon Toriel however as he will use violence if necessary as he knows that humans are simply using them as tools to get rid of who they deem criminal. There are signs of old campfires, broken tents, and habitation. Before The Ruins is, of course, the main factions. “Snowdin” is the beginning and Crimson is one of the most powerful in the Underworld.

The Layout of the world: New Home= The Capital Snowdin= Magmire Waterfall= Windyspires Hotland= Tundra

The Underworld is backward to its original layout. The humans end up trapped in The Capital instead and they have to make their way to The Ruins to escape. So it would go like this: The Capital -> Tundra ->Windyspires ->Magmire. The closer the faction to the capital the higher the rank in other words because both Grimm and Crimson live in Tundra. Crim is the lord making him one of the most notorious. He is known for being a loyal “dog” to his queen. Whether that be out of loyalty or self preservation is unclear. Each faction has a lord or lady that rules over it. The ones loyal to Toriel’s (As a side note she is known as the ice queen) regime and their supposed way of life. This also means the closest ones receive the most benefits. Tundra is the one with the most prestige and of course other monsters are trying to strip that title from its current holder, The Crimson Lord. Due to Crimson’s loyalty, he is almost exempt from any wrongdoing in the Queens’ eyes which means he can do pretty much anything he wants. Which is dangerous and I will explain why in a bit. I have a faction ruler list sitting here so I am going to add that to this as well. They are as follows, of course, this does not account for potential power struggles during the story: The Capital -> QUEEN: Toriel Dreemurr Tundra -> Lord: Crimson Lady: N/A Windyspires -> Lord? (I mean she wouldn’t want to be called a lady SHE IS TOO TOUGH FOR THAT!): Alphys Lady: Undyne Magmire-> Lord: Grillby Lady: Muffet “It’s Hunt or be Hunted”: The motto of this verse. After so many centuries of humans being disposed of by monsters they become aggressive. In addition the anger toward all of humanity begins to fuel violence in the monsters. The hunts deter monster on monster violence. It also adds fuel to Queen Toriel’s fire that one of the humans that fell down the first time killed her son. This of course is a lie as Asriel seeks refuge with his father in The Ruins. He helps as much as he can watch his mother lose her mind from afar. It saddens him but he refuses to be a part of this new world order. That is when they realized that humans weren’t just falling into the Underworld. They were throwing throwing the worst of the worst. Their undesirables, criminals, and anyone that dare went against their own agenda. At first, they just captured them and held them in the Capitals network of catacombs but then some began to escape causing damage across their “New Home”. Toriel wouldn’t allow it. A proposal turns it into a game of cat and mouse. The humans are detained and released and then the monsters hunt them down. It used to be about protection but now it’s become a sick twisted death game. The forests of Tundra are littered with traps and deadly pitfalls along with the rest of the locations.

The Brothers Grimm:

Grimm is the wilder of the two brothers and is very much a predator type. His name is derived from the mythos of the Grimm or Black dog. I wanted to keep that dark omen symbology in both his name and design. He slinks around in the shadows so that the black dog aspect is not far off. He also loves watching from trees. He enjoys the catching and hunting aspect of his job and even plays around with his “toys” when he finds them. He will specifically call anyone “chew toy” in a mocking kind of way. That does not mean though that he will not spare you if he catches you. He is naturally curious by things. He also has a little skele tail too. Unlike his brother, Grimm doesn’t really have an ego he just finds his job fun. He is like a giant untamed wolf. Grimm has a love of sweets as well. He admires his brother but he is not bound to his brother. In other words this is not a master, dog dynamic. He is, however, the more accepting of the two. If he is asked to do something he doesn’t approve of then he most likely won’t. Also just because he has the whole puppy thing going on doesn’t mean he isn’t smart and cunning. Again he likes to play around with those he finds sometimes not even dragging them back to his brother for a while. If you are a threat he will kill you but if you’re not you can probably get on his good side. If he thinks you are cute he will probably flirt with you too. He is not beyond that. He plays the part of the dog quite well. Crimson is more sophisticated. He doesn’t go out on “hunts” himself often as he has a faction to rule over but those brought to him will see first hand that he is an insufferable flirt. He is prideful, egotistical, and commanding. He also has a bad habit of keeping mementos from those he deems worthy (what those are… you don’t want to know). He is stern with his brother and seems very outwardly cold to most unless he is playing up his charm. He is not someone you want to make angry as Toriel considers him to also be the Bloody Lord. His weapon of choice is a rapier. His drinks of choice are red wine and champagne specifically the pink kind. Crimson’s incisor teeth also have that vampire point to them. They are longer than the rest of them. There is far more to Crimson than just a ruthless skeleton lord.

The Ultimate Unlikely Hunters: This backstory will involve Grimm and Crimson’s unusual infliction and conditions. They were both experiments under Rivers research team in the beginning. Having been weak monsters as children unable to gain any LV they had to think of a way to survive. They did not seem to possess the ability to wield magic. Tired, injured, and without hope Papyrus carried his baby brother all the way to Windyspires banging weakly on the metal plated doors. The Royal scientist at the time, Dr. River Styx, took the boys in. River cares about the two brothers and he gives them a choice if they want to become stronger as their souls are not capable of it on their own. Grimm takes the offer hoping it will save his baby brother offering to be the first test subject. At the time Undyne was nothing but a teenage prodigy lab tech watching the events of soul manipulation take place. At first the process works. Pap is able to conjure new bone like attacks with magic and all seems to be well. The results cause River to start the experiment on Sans next. By this time complications have already begun to show signs. Pap seems to be more short tempered and aggressive even with little things. His mood swings cause him to lock himself up being monitored day by day.

Sans has never seen his gentle brother this aggressive before forcing himself to look away as they have to strap him down for a follow up experiment. He tries to help his brother the best he can and takes on the older brother role due to Pap’s inability to think clearly. Even he is starting to change. The longer this situation continues the more Sans becomes numb to the feeling. That is until one day Pap’s condition takes a turn for the worse causing him to lash out, bones shifting and elongating. He drops to the ground in agony transforming into a skeletal beast like wolf tearing the entire lab apart. Sans on the other hand continues to take care of his brother but he too is feeling some strange side effects to the soul manipulation. It turns out that each monster’s ancestry buried deep within their soul draws upon a primal power. Not all monsters were about love and compassion in the beginning. Bringing this primal trait to the surface causes adverse physical and biological changes within the two. Sans is more gradual as he starts to be in immense pain. His soul struggles to keep itself together but even he snaps lunging at a lab tech. He zeros in on their soul pulling it from their chest and sinking his teeth into it, draining it of its life force. The pain is suddenly gone. He realizes that he needs souls essence and power to keep that hunger/thirst at bay. It gives him extraordinary abilities. He remembers a long time ago reading about a monster that humans had such a fear of, the vampire. As he comes into power he realizes that humans concentrated soul traits are even better than monster souls. The blood has a high concentration of soul essence which sustains humans as well as monsters (yes the monsters bleed in this). His brother learns to control this new beast within himself but not before he nearly claws his brothers socket out, hence the signature scar. Crimson has scars on his entire body from trying to reason with his once feral brother. They slowly work their way up to eventually ruling the second most powerful kingdom in the entire Underworld with exception to The Capitol. The constant hunts keep both the brothers conditions satisfied. No one is quite sure how the two skeleton brothers became this way after River’s disappearance, all except Undyne.

*This is just to get started! If you have any questions about the characters, how the world works, the layout, story, any of that go ahead and drop me an ask I would love to answer them!*

#undertale #WBW #Worldbuilding Wednesday AU edition #underfell #Fellswap #undertale au #underfell au #The Hunt #friskys multiverse #kits multiverse #multiverse #The Crimson Lord #Crimson #my au #Fellswap au #fairytale aesthetic #lore

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mamabearcatfanfics · 4 years ago

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I’ve had a lot of sinus pressure in my teeth recently... and it made me remember this little fic.

If you prefer, read it on AO3 where I’ve just posted it as a ‘new’ work, or on FFN, where it’s the last chapter in my InuKag short stories collection Dog Tails

Tell Me Toothfully

Kagome had felt totally fine when she went to bed last night. She’d been a little tired from staying up late to study for her maths test the night before, and then of course Inuyasha had arrived to demand she come back through the well as soon as she’d arrived home. But that had been fine. It was actually refreshing, walking out along the road in the afternoon sun with her friends after being shut in a stuffy classroom all day. They’d set up camp after walking for a few hours, not having any particular leads to follow at the moment, and it had been a lovely evening.

Inuyasha had complained less than usual about her ‘abandoning’ them to go complete her test, which, wonder of wonders, she thought she’d done okay on. Sango and Miroku had spent the evening in friendly conversation, with only one hand slap breaking the gentle camaraderie around the fire. Shippou had fallen asleep without getting on Inuyasha’s nerves too much, after quickly devouring the lollipop she’d bought back for him as a treat. He had snuggled down next to her as soon as she’d climbed into her sleeping bag, happy that she was back with them. The last thing Kagome had seen before closing her eyes was Inuyasha in the tree above her, the slight glow of his golden eyes in the darkness and the moonlight reflecting off his silver hair. With his comforting presence above her and the rumble of Kirara’s purr in the background, she’d had no trouble drifting off into peaceful dreams.

But right now, as the sun’s rays tipped just over the horizon, she was in agony. The whole right side of her face was swollen and tender to touch. The pain was so intense that Kagome couldn’t pinpoint where exactly in her mouth it was coming from; it felt like the whole of the right side of her skull was throbbing.

She rolled over gingerly in her sleeping bag to see if the others were awake yet and gasped as the simple movement made the lancing pain in her face flare white hot. Miroku and Sango were still asleep, Kirara curled up close beside Sango. Shippou was still snuggled against her. She couldn’t see Inuyasha anywhere, but that wasn’t unusual – he often went fishing before the others awoke if there was a stream nearby. She sat up gingerly and turned her head towards the direction he’d probably disappeared off to, and a small pained whimper escaped her before she could silence it. Shippou blinked at her sleepily.

“Kagome, you okay?” He stared up at her face in puzzlement, then scrambled up her shoulder to poke gently at her swollen cheek. Even that very slight pressure from Shippou’s tiny finger made tears instantly spring to her eyes and she couldn’t control the pained whine that escaped. She breathed in and out through her nose for a moment, then managed a watery smile.

“M’okay Shippou, don’worry”, she managed. The kit continued to look at her doubtfully with a concerned expression, sniffing as he watched her rifle through her backpack to look for the medical kit. If she could just take some pain relief before Inuyasha got back from wherever he was…

💕

Inuyasha strode back through the forest, clutching one of Kagome’s useful plastic containers to his chest. It was filled to the brim with cleaned and gutted fish; only small ones, because the stream was really no more than a trickle off a larger tributary, but there were plenty of them and they would cook quickly strung up over the campfire. He grinned as he imagined Kagome’s pleased smile - she loved fish for breakfast, even though he would have been happy with just ramen.

He was looking forward to getting out on the road again. He hated waiting in the village when Kagome was away – it felt stifling and always made him annoyed and irritable. Absolutely nothing to do with the wench being on the other side of the well. Nope. Then why does it feel so much better when she’s back?

He discarded that thought with a grunt as he strode back into camp, plonking the container holding the fish off to one side as he stooped to feed the fire with twigs and leaves to get it going again. Shippou bounced over to him, landing noiselessly on his shoulder, his small back paws treading nervously as he tugged on Inuyasha’s ear.

“Kagome smells sick!”

“What?”

His head swung towards Kagome as he gave a few careful sniffs, and there it was. Something was definitely wrong.

“Oi, do ya feel sick?” he questioned, eyes widening as he took in the sight of her swollen reddened cheek. Kagome shook her head vehemently in denial, then whimpered quietly, closing her eyes with a pained expression.

Inuyasha frowned as he made his way over to her sleeping bag, squatting down next to her. He glared at her swollen cheek and sniffed, then snarled quietly when he scented the beginning of a bad infection. His clawed fingers went to her chin, gently tipping her head slightly to the side.

“What the hell happened to you wench?” His expression softened a little as she looked up at him tearfully, and he placed his palm gently against her forehead. She had the beginnings of a fever too.

“Open up, lemme see.” Kagome pressed her lips tightly together and glared at him, even though he could see that holding her mouth like that was painful for her.

Sango, Miroku and Kirara were now awake.

“What’s wrong?” asked Sango, peering over Inuyasha’s shoulder, and she made a small noise of sympathy as she noticed Kagome’s swollen cheek.

“I’m pretty sure Kagome has a rotten tooth, but she’s bein’ a baby about it and won’t show me”, he growled softly. “If it’s bad, it’s gotta come out wench, or otherwise you’ll get really sick!”

Kagome glared at him, her eyes narrowing, despite her pain.

“Si’!”, she hissed, and Inuyasha flinched, his ears flattening as he braced himself in readiness for his face to be pulled earthwards with a solid smack. Nothing happened.

“Keh! Beads don’t work when ya can’t talk properly, huh?” he gloated, baring his own pointed teeth as he grinned at her.

Kagome’s eyes filled with tears, and Inuyasha blinked in alarm.

“Hey, don’t cry about it! I promise, you can sit me as soon as your tooth is out, okay?”

Kagome shook her head slightly, indicating that wasn’t what the tears were for.

“Hur’s”, she whimpered. Her bottom lip trembled as she kept her mouth tightly shut, and she blinked some more tears away.

“C’mon ‘gome, just show me”, he sighed, stroking his fingers lightly over hers where they lay on the sleeping bag, not feeling comfortable with showing any other form of gentleness with the rest of them gathered around. “I’m sorry I called ya a baby. I know how much a rotten tooth can hurt – felt like cryin’ myself when I had one as a pup.”

Miroku chimed in. “I assume you have healers in your own time that can deal with a toothache Kagome?” She nodded carefully. “What if Inuyasha promises that he won’t pull the tooth himself, but will take you back through the well to receive treatment – does that sound fair?”

Sango jabbed Inuyasha in the ribs when he failed to give his agreement; his attention still focused on Kagome’s tearful brown pools of misery, and he winced at the sudden poke to his side. Damn, that woman could be so pointy!

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll take her”, he grunted at Sango, pushing her hand away. He turned his attention back to Kagome. “I promise I won’t pull it – jus’ show me so I know it’s not somethin’ else.” His tone was a lot more gentle than usual; he could read in her scent just how much pain she was in, and he didn’t want to cause her any more distress.

Hesitantly Kagome opened her mouth, whimpering a little at a sudden spike in pain, and Inuyasha wrinkled his nose as the smell of infection increased dramatically. He peered into her mouth, past the other little white teeth to see a slightly blackened tooth growing crooked right at the back, only halfway out and surrounded by reddened swollen flesh.

“Yeah, it’s a bad tooth, right up the back. Let’s get you home wench, your Mama’ll know what to do, right?”

Kagome shut her mouth. “M’sorry”, she whispered, gazing at everyone tearfully. “I jus’ go’ back. An’ now m’goin’ again.” She swallowed as the pain spiked as she tried to talk, and Sango stroked her shoulder reassuringly.

“It’s okay Kagome-chan. We’re less than half a day’s journey from the village. It’s better that this happened now, rather than somewhere far from the well. Inuyasha will take you home, and we’ll wait at Kaede’s until you are healed okay?”

Shippou leaped onto Sango’s shoulder and stroked Kagome’s unswollen cheek hesitantly with tiny fingers. “I’m sorry I hurt you before”, he said softly. “I hope you feel better soon.”

Miroku smiled reassuringly at her. “Don’t worry about us Kagome. I’m sure all will be well. The sooner you leave, the sooner to return, hmm?”

Inuyasha knelt down in front of Kagome with his back to her, indicating she should climb on. “You lot may as well have breakfast before you leave. Don’t waste that fish.” As soon as he felt Kagome had a good grip with her knees and hands, he was off, determined to get her home as quickly as possible.

💕

Inuyasha grumbled as he sat next to Kagome’s bed, waiting for her and her mother to return. Mama Higurashi had taken one look at her daughter’s swollen face after listening to Inuyasha’s description of the rotten tooth, and had got on the phone to the family dentist. They were in luck; someone had cancelled earlier in the day and she’d managed to secure her daughter an emergency appointment. But they’d been gone for a while now, and he was both worried and bored. A bad combination, because it gave him time to think about… things.

A soft giggle out in the yard alerted him to their return, and he bounded down the stairs as the front door opened.

“Oh good, Inuyasha, you’re still here”, Mama Higurashi panted. “Could you help me get Kagome up to her room please?”

Kagome’s arm was draped over her mother’s shoulder, and she was giggling. As soon as she noticed Inuyasha she launched herself at him, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck and leaning her full weight against him.

“’n’yasha! I miss' youuuu!”

Inuyasha’s eyes widened as he felt Kagome rubbing her cheek against his chest, making happy mewling sounds like a kitten. He glanced down at her in alarm, bracing her around her waist with his arm as she staggered slightly and giggled, and then looked back at her mother, his cheeks flushing.

“What’s wrong with her?!”

“She’s fine”, smiled Mama. “She had an impacted wisdom tooth, and another ready to erupt too, so the dentist removed both of them and gave her some strong pain relief. It seems to have made her a little… happy.”

Inuyasha’s eyebrow raised as he looked at Mama Higarashi – that was the fucking understatement of the century. He glanced back down at Kagome, who chose that moment to gaze up at him innocently, a wide grin on her face and her doe-like brown eyes sparkling with joy.

“’ake me ‘oo bed ‘n’yasha”, she cooed, and Inuyasha spluttered in embarrassment.

“Ya what?!” he blustered, averting his eyes from her adoring gaze. He tried to untangle the small fingers clutched about his neck, but she was gripping on like a monkey, her body weight leaning against him like she was suddenly boneless, and he didn’t want to use any force and accidentally hurt her. He could hear Mama Higurashi trying to hide her laughter behind her hand, and he turned his eyes to hers helplessly.

“Why don’t you take her up to her room Inuyasha and get her settled into bed before the pain medication wears off”, she agreed soothingly. “She won’t be able to eat anything solid for a few days, so I’m going to make some soup. I won’t be long.” He heard her burst into laughter as soon as she was safely in the kitchen and he snorted in irritation. Small fingers tugged on the his collar of his kosode.

“I ma' you angry”, Kagome slurred, her bottom lip trembling. “Why’ I make you angry ‘n’yasha? Issa’ why you leave me behin' n’ go see her, ‘cause I make you angry?” Sudden hot tears dribbled down her flushed cheeks, and he was quick to wipe them away with his thumb, one arm hooked around her waist to keep her steady as she clung to him. Fuck.

“You…”, he stuttered, trying to make the right words come, but it was difficult for him to focus when she was looking at him like that, her pain so close to the surface, unfiltered by her usual cheerfulness. “You don’t make me angry wench. You irritate me sometimes, jus’ like I irritate you, but the only time I feel angry at you is when you get yourself hurt ‘cause ya didn’t listen ta me. Okay?”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Yay.” The tears evaporated and her smile was blinding. “You’re so pre’ey”, she sighed. “Di’you know your eyes are golden?” Her voice was serious as if she were stating an important fact.

“Fuckin’ hell”, he sighed, scooping her up off her feet and carrying her up the stairs to her bedroom.

“N’ you’re s’rong”, she cooed as he carried her along the hallway. “Makes my ‘ummy go all funny when you swing your ‘essaiga.”

He grunted in answer, heat flushing his cheeks. Maybe if he could coax her to go to sleep the medicine would wear off and he’d get his regular Kagome back – he didn’t know how to handle this one.

He walked into her room and held her close to him with one arm while he turned down her coverlet, huffing a little as she snuggled herself against his neck.

“Y’r so warm. You make me feel warm ‘n’yasha.” She made a little ‘oof’ noise as he settled her on the bed, then she giggled as he pulled off her shoes then tucked the covers up over her. She grabbed one of his hands, tugging on his fingers, then placed his hand on her chest, pushing his fingers between the gap of her button shirt, directly over her heart. “S’rue. You make me warm here. My hear’ bea’s fr you.”

His fingers twitched under hers, no doubt struggling under the same quandary his brain was – he wanted to pull away and run, but at the same time he wanted to keep his hand there, feeling the warmth of her skin forever. He’d dreamed of the moment she might ask him to touch her there, and it was better than he had imagined - so soft and warm, with the pulse of her heart beating strongly against his skin.

He gulped, as his mouth went dry and his own heart rate escalated. If she had said and done this at any other time, he would have taken the chance to act on his driving impulse to caress the delicate flesh directly beneath his fingertips, and lean in to kiss those softly parted lips. But this wasn’t fair. She was looking at him so trustingly, her eyes adoring, but she wasn’t her usual self, and would no doubt be embarrassed by this.

He gently pulled his hand back, entwining his fingers with hers and placing their joined hands down on the top of her pink quilt. He sat down on the edge of the bed, close to her knees underneath the covers, trying to keep a respectful distance between them.

“You need to get some rest Kagome. Time ta sleep, okay?” He patted her legs gently with his other hand, hoping it would soothe her.

“Will you s’ay?” Her eyes were already drooping, and she blinked at him sleepily, as if trying to keep him close by with her gaze alone.

“O’course”, he said a little wistfully, watching as she drifted off.

He wondered if she’d remember any of this. He tucked a stray wisp of hair that had dropped down over her cheek behind her ear, his fingers lingering. A small part of him hoped she would, but the other part, the much larger part that had no trouble informing him that he was a useless worthless hanyou who deserved nothing good, hoped to keep things as they were to save him from certain disappointment. But he couldn’t contain his whispered thought, as soon as he was sure she was asleep.

“I’ll always stay when ya want me to Kagome." He sighed heavily, almost not wanting to admit it aloud, but unable to lie to himself any longer. "I'll stay, ‘cause my heart beats for you too.”

#mamabearcat fanfics #Fic Back Friday #wisdom teeth #hurt comfort #inukag fanfic

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schrijverr · 4 years ago

Text

Reunited

Tim and Bertie had fallen in love with Jonny on the moon, but when Bertie died Tim had left Jonny behind. He realizes how much he regrets it when he’s getting mechanized. After he finds out Jonny is alive, he vows to make it up to him and does his best to mend their relationship again.

On AO3.

Ships: Gunpowder Tim x Jonny d’Ville

Warnings: grieving and working through some issues. Tell me if I missed anything or if you want me to tag something!!

~~~~~~~~~

It was dark when Tim woke up.

He didn’t think he would wake up again when he had confronted the Moon Kaiser, so the fact that he was alive in the darkness was strange. He tried to move, but found his hands and feet were tied down to the surface he was lying on.

“Stop wiggling.” a voice said.

Tim did not know who the voice belonged to, but his head swiveled in the direction it had come from in an attempt to see who it was.

The person snorted and said: “I don’t think that will help, since I’m currently making you a pair of eyes. I’m Doc Carmilla, by the way, a pleasure.”

“What happened? What do you want from me.” Tim now really started to struggle against his bindings as he tried to get away.

“You were in an explosion.” the voice, Doc Carmilla apparently, told him gently, “You lost your eyes and I’m making you new ones. All I ask is cooperation.”

The fury from before was reignited in his veins as he continued to struggle fiercely. He wasn’t about to become an experiment of the Moon Kaiser or anyone else. He was Gunpowder Tim and if he’d had enough righteous anger to cut through thousands of Lunar Men, he would have enough to break out of here.

Doc Carmilla sighed and Tim felt a prick in his neck. As he started to loose his grip on the world, he heard her say: “Only people who cooperate get progress.”

When he woke up again a few days had passed, not that Tim would know since he’d lost his sense of time in the darkness. He startled, but before he could do anything Doc Carmilla spoke: “Don’t struggle again, it’s already been slow going since my help was emotionally compromised and I can’t work on your face if you struggle.”

“I don’t even know what you’re doing to me.” Tim protested.

“I’m giving you a second chance at life, away from everything that has brought you such misery. A new family to call your own that will be there forever. Don’t you want that, Timothy? Don’t you want that new beginning away from there?” she asked.

Tim thought about that. He didn’t really know the answer, he hadn’t thought about a future since he’d lost Bertie. His only focus had been to kill the Kaiser or die trying, no matter the price. What was he going to do now that it was over?

“It’s alright if you need time to think.” Doc Carmilla told him, “You’ll get plenty of time to think anyway.”

Then she started to work and most of the pain from getting metal shoved into still healing wounds took over for coherency.

But it came back to him when she left him, apparently done for the day. He pondered how he had avenged Bertie, how he could heal now, but the more he thought about it, the more he had failed him.

While they might’ve already been in love before they arrived on the moon and had known each other since they were little, it hadn’t been just the two of them, not anymore. There had been a fierce soldier, who really shouldn’t have been enjoying himself that much, that they had loved as well. His name had been Jonny, Jonny d’Ville. And Tim couldn't help but feel like he had abandoned him.

Jonny might have been manic from time to time with too much bloodlust for his tiny body, but he had also been soft and insecure.

Tim could remember the nights, where they had held Jonny between them as they whispered reassurances to him, while he was overwhelmed with the unfamiliar praise and affection that they heaped onto him.

But then Bertie had died and Tim hadn’t been able to see through his own grief. He’d gone on a rampage, leaving Jonny to fend for himself without a shoulder to lean on.

It felt like a punch to the gut and a bucket of cold water over his head. He had allowed himself to loose someone he cared about, someone he loved. He still had someone left and he hadn’t cherished the love he could have had.

Bertie would have killed him if he knew. The other man had taken to Jonny so quickly that Tim would have become jealous if he hadn’t trusted Bertie so much. Bertie took joy in figuring out what made Jonny blush or smile softly, just like he’d done for Tim so many years ago.

Tim missed that, missed Bertie, missed the three of them in a heap next to the campfire while Jonny softly sang of worlds far away.

Jonny never told them how he knew those songs and he would only sing them for Tim and Bertie in those quiet peaceful moments. Tim had learned to look forward to them and hold them near to his heart, but it seemed he had forgotten this lesson and now he would never hear Jonny sing again.

It was only then that it hit him that he might have been the one who killed Jonny. If he was here and did his duty then the moon was gone, along with everyone on it.

He had not only abandoned Jonny, he had murdered him as well.

That was what he thought about for the days that followed. Doc Carmilla would come in and work on him and he’d just lay there, mind somewhere else. He had failed both his lovers and he would do anything to make it up to them, but it was too late. He’d never be able to make it up to them again and that hurt deep to his core; the fact that he would never get to say sorry.

Then Doc Carmilla stopped coming and Tim was all on his own in the darkness once more.

Tim didn’t know how long he’d laid there before he heard a noise in the chamber he was in. He turned his head towards it, even though he couldn’t see and called out: “Who’s there?”

“Hmm, she’s farther along than I thought.” a heavily accented and slightly disappointed voice said.

“Who are you? What are you doing?” Tim was getting slightly nervous.

“Sadly, I have to fix you up.” the voice said coolly.

“Uhm, why?” this person obviously didn’t seem pleased of that and he was scared and confused in this never-ending darkness.

“Carmilla had to depart.” the voice answered, picking each word carefully “And I would have someone hound me if I didn’t and they found out, so here I am.”

“You don’t sound so happy about that.” Tim was getting worried the person would hurt him and he would be stuck and helpless here.

“I’m not, but you’re one of us now.” the voice sighed, “I’m Nastya, the engineer.”

“Oh, I’m Tim, Gunpowder Tim.” Tim replied.

“I know.” Nastya told him and after that she was silent, the only noises that of whatever project she was working on and the dripping of the IV keeping up his strength.

Tim tried to think of what he could have done to earn her anger, but none came to mind. What she told him also didn’t make sense, because who here knew him? He was still pondering that when she left, with a curt goodbye.

This awkward existing in the same space went on for another three days, before Nastya announced: “They’re ready. This is going to hurt, but then it’s over.”

He nodded and braced himself. For a second nothing happened, then something connected and his eyes started to burn. He screamed as his vision flashed white, a sharp contrast with the darkness from the past weeks, before his world went dark again as he passed out.

When he awoke this time, it was to a metal lab with contraptions and experiments everywhere. He was no longer bound and sat up in surprise. His eyes saw everything so clearly and it was hard just to take stuff in, but after a few moments he got used to it enough to walk.

Slowly he got onto his feet, still unused to walking after so long, and set out to find anyone who might want to tell him more about what was happening.

Tim was about to just start yelling when he heard voices further down the hall. He made his way to a doorway into a room with a few couches where five people were sitting and talking. He didn’t know who the metal man was, nor the red-haired woman, nor the other person, but his eye did fall on The Toy Soldier. It could be TS, who Nastya had referred to even if it didn’t like to be a someone. He was about to call out to it when the last persons face was revealed.

Jonny.

It couldn't be anyone else, even if Tim thought his brain was tricking him. It was the same face that would grin at him in the trenches or smile up at Bertie while laying in his lap. The same face. Jonny had lived, there was a chance Tim could make it up to him.

“Darling, you’re alive!” he yelled, racing forward to envelop a startled Jonny into a hug.

He squeezed him tight, before cradling his face in his hand and checking him over. Jonny looked completely unharmed, if Tim still had tear ducts he would have cried, instead he hugged Jonny again and said: “God, I was so worried about you, love, I’m so so sorry for leaving you, you didn’t deserve that I’m so sorry. How can I ever make it up to you, angel?”

In his arms Jonny looked very surprised, he’d gone still when Tim hugged him and now just sat there quite shocked. Then he softly asked: “You still like me?”

Tims heart broke, it got shattered in a thousand pieces that lodged themselves into his insides and tore through him. He assured him: “Of course I still do, I love you, I’m sorry I made you feel anything different, cupcake.”

Jonny sagged into his touch and Tim could feel his shoulders shake as his clothes got soaked in tears and nails dug into his back as Jonny clutched his coat tightly.

“Tim, Ol’ Sport, It’s You! I Did Not Know You Had Made It.” The Toy Soldier exclaimed, finally recognizing the familiar face.

“Tim, as in broke Jonnys heart Tim? Left him crying for days Tim? That Tim?” one of the people he did not know asked.

A stab of guilt went through Tims heart and he held Jonny closer as he kissed his temple and whispered: “I’m so sorry, bean, so so sorry.”

Jonnys grip only tightened in return, while in the background TS answered: “That Seems Like The Description Of Tim, Mx. O’Reily.”

“Who ordered you to call me that, go back to just Ashes.” the person, apparently Ashes, said then their look turned dangerous, “So, how do we know we can trust him to not do that again?”

“Hold on, Ashes, maybe let him explain first, we can threaten him later.” the metal man told them, he then smiled at Tim and introduced himself: “Hi, I’m Drumbot Brian, most call me Brian and I am the Pilot of this ship. Nastya did talk about finishing something, but she hadn’t mentioned what, has she explained what happened?”

“I don’t think she expected me to wake up yet.” Tim told him, not letting go of Jonny for a second, “She wasn’t there when I woke up and she’s mostly been giving me the cold shoulder.”

“That’s to be expected, with how we found Jonny over you.” the woman with the red hair said, “I’m Ivy Alexandria, pleasure.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m Tim, Gunpowder Tim, but most just call me Tim.” he didn’t extend a hand, too focused on the warmth of Jonny safe in his arms.

“Can we go back to focusing on what’s really important?” Ashes asked loudly, “Namely making sure this guy here doesn’t break Jonnys heart again.”

“I’m right here you know.” Jonny mumbled, “And he didn’t break my heart.”

Ashes raised a brow at him and said: “You cried for the first time in centuries and blubbered on about him enough for the Doc to not even tell you she picked him up. Not to mention this current limpet show.”

A flush overtook his features and he was about to let go, much to Tims dismay, when Brian stopped him and gently explained: “They didn’t mean it like that, Jonny, stay put, it’s obviously helping. They’re just pulling the overprotective card, let them do their shovel talk, then we’ll leave you guys alone to talk.”

Jonny kept holding on, relief clear as day, while Ashes pouted: “It’s not a shovel talk, Brian, it’s a proper intimidation act.”

Ashes turned to Tim and crossed their arms, from their standing position they looked down on Tim with disdain as they began: “If you hurt him ever again, I will cut you to pieces and make you watch as I burn those pieces to ash. I will kill you repeatedly in many increasingly painful ways and I will not stop until you beg, beg, me to please make it permanent and then I will kill you a few more times again, before I defy everything you are and murder you, before feeding you to the octokittens. Are we clear?”

Tim swallowed thickly and he could feel Jonny tighten his grip, before he softly whispered: “Don’t leave me, I’ll make sure to protect you from them, please stay.”

“Of course I’ll stay, baby.” Tim assured him with a kiss to his temple, before meeting Ashes gaze, “Nothing will make me leave or hurt you again, no matter how hard they try, I promise.”

Ashes scanned his face, but seemed content with what they found. They nodded approvingly, before ushering the others out while saying: “Come on, lets let these two catch up.”

With them gone Tim focused on what was most important, Jonny. Those others were obviously his family, so he’d felt the need to impress them, but now that was over and he had a cuddling lover to take care of.

Jonny was still crying a bit, although it seemed the heaving sobs from before had ceased. It was clear that Tims departure after Berties death had had more impact on Jonny than he could handle and Tim felt so incredibly guilty over ever leaving him. He’d known how much Jonny could doubt himself and their affection and still he’d left him in the middle of a war zone, alone, to cope with the fact that one of his lovers was dead and the other had apparently left him.

It seemed impossible, but Tim hugged Jonny closer, pulling him into his lap. He rocked him back a forth as he hummed softly.

After a while Jonny sagged even more into his touch, so TIm softly said: “I know we probably still need to talk about a lot, but right now I would love nothing more than to cuddle and sleep, if you’re agreeable, marshmallow.”

“Yeah,” Jonny mumbled into his neck, “I’d like that.”

“Good.” Tim told him, before scooping him up into his arms, half concerned and half glad he was still able to do that, as he asked: “What way, princess?”

A recognizable blush spread over Jonnys face as he pointed into a direction and Tim smiled to himself, some things never changed. Tim started walking while keeping up a constant stream of soft chatter, only pausing to ask for more directions that Jonny provided silently.

The room they arrived at was clearly Jonnys, the messy décor reminding Tim of his equally disorganized pack, while the belt and guns scattered around screamed Jonny.

Against the wall stood a big bed with a ton of pillows piled on it and Tim filed the soft nest away in his mind with new things to learn about Jonny in this new setting, as he gently put Jonny down between the blankets and other plush on his bed.

When Tim put him down Jonny whimpered slightly and Tim whispered: “I’m just taking off my shoes and outer layer, it’s a bit dirty and I want your bed to stay clean. That alright, sweet pea? Want your boots off too?”

Jonny nodded and Tim set to work. He kicked off his own shoes uncaringly and shrugged off his coat and trousers easily, but when he got to Jonnys boots he knelt down and softly undid the laces, before sliding the boots off gently.

He looked up and smiled at a now completely red Jonny and asked: “Do you want the belts off too, dove?”

After biting his lip, Jonny nodded and Tim undid his belts and slid them off, being mindful of keeping the same gentleness throughout the entire progress.

As Tim climbed onto the bed Jonny wiggled out of his own trousers as well and shrugged off his waistcoat. Then he rested his head on Tims chest, who instantly wrapped two arms around him and held him closely as he drifted off, the entire day finally catching up to him.

It took Tim a bit longer to find sleep. He didn’t know if it was because he’d woken up just over an hour ago or because he was still reeling over the fact that Jonny was still alive. It was frankly a miracle, but now that he thought of it, he should have seen this coming.

Back on the moon Jonny used to make a lot of immortality jokes, but he would get rather defensive if anyone called them that or didn’t believe him. Bertie and Tim just humored him and tried to keep an eye out, but The Toy Soldier always seemed 100% agreeable over it, which made sense after seeing it here. So the logical conclusion was that all those jokes along with the forever family comment from Doc Carmilla meant that Jonny really was immortal and after Ashes’ shovel talk it wouldn’t surprise Tim if he was now too.

That was quite a lot to take in, but Tim didn’t really have time for an existential crisis, he had to focus on Jonny and making things right between them. Apparently they were going to have forever and he needed to be his best for his beloved right now, so compartmentalizing it was.

It took a while, but Tim fell asleep too, listening to the soft breaths coming from the small figure in his arms. He’d studied Jonnys face closely, it was still as lovely as he remembered, even with ruined eyeliner covering it.

When he awoke it was Jonny who was studying him. He had been hovering over him when he’d opened his new eyes and had startled back when he’d realized Tim was awake. He said: “Oh, hi, good morning, Tim.”

“Good morning, sunshine.” Tim smiled, “How did you sleep?”

“Great, fine, better.” Jonny mumbled, looking a bit embarrassed, “It was nice to have you here.”

He had always been a terrible sleeper and Tim knew his and Berties presence had made it easier for him to sleep and it was nice to know that it still did. Tim smiled: “That’s good to hear.”

Jonny bit his lip, started to say something and then stopped. He looked at Tim again and Tim grabbed his hand, lightly squeezing to silently let him know that he was there and that it was okay. Jonny softly asked: “You are here, right? This is not just in my head?”

“Yeah, I’m really here.” Tim looked Jonny in the eye, but Jonny adverted his gaze, so he gently took Jonnys cheeks between his hands and said: “I mean it, Jonny, I’m going to do everything in my power to make you realize that I will never leave you again. What I did after-” a deep breath, “after Bertie died was stupid and hurtful and I have to live with the fact that I did that to you when you didn’t deserve it. I love you, Jonny, you’re my everything, and I will stay by your side and tell you that as much a possible for as long as you’ll have me.”

Jonny was crying again, Tim didn’t know if this was a good thing or a bad one, but he held him nonetheless, whispering sweet nothings into his hairline and leaving soft kisses along it.

“I’d- I’d like that.” Jonnys voice cracked, but he sounded so relieved and all Tim could do was squeeze him tightly and hope Jonny would understand.

They sat there for a very long time, Tims stomach was rioting, but he didn’t dare disturb the peaceful air around them. Jonny was playing with his fingers while Tim rubbed his back. After making one of his fingers crack, Jonny seemed startled for a moment, then he asked: “Have you gotten a tour of the ship yet?”

“What?”

“A tour, of Aurora, the- the ship?”

“Oh, no. I just woke up and wondered around a bit.”

“Then I’ll give you one, get dressed.”

Jonny was out of the bed and pulling on clothes, suddenly bustling with activity as he fluttered around the room. He turned and looked expectantly at Tim, who smiled softly and said: “I don’t have clean clothes, poppet.”

“Oh, of course.” Jonnys face got an understanding look on it as he began to dig through his closet, “I think I have one of Brians sweaters here from when I stole it and I must have a pair of sweatpants that can fit you. It will be too short, but it will have to do. And we have to ask Ashes to make sure they’ll get you some new clothes when we land some place habitable.”

The clothes thrown over his shoulder hit Tim, who took them and put them on. The sweatpants were indeed too short, but the sweater was oversized. It reminded him of Berties sweaters that he used to steal.

“Are you alright?” he asked, unsure what brought on the sudden need to move after Jonny had seemed perfectly content to just sit on the bed for the entire day not even a minute ago.

“You need to know where you’re going to stay, right? I mean, you can’t be expected to be with me the entire time, so I need to show you.” Jonny explained.

It sounded like watertight reasoning, but Tim couldn't shake the feeling that Jonny just didn’t want to come across as clingy, which had always been a fear of him. Tim put his arm around Jonnys waist and said: “I think I’m not going to leave your side anytime soon, but I do love to hear you talk, chipmunk, and a sense of direction would be nice. So lead the way!”

He saw a small smile flit over Jonnys face and couldn't help, but pat himself on his back for the excellent reply he had given.

They walked through the halls as Jonny rambled on about the different places behind closed doors, sometimes opening them to show Tim. He was not a very good guide, his talking was chaotic and all over the place and the route never really became clear. But Jonny seemed happy to talk and Tim was perfectly content to listen.

Jonny opened another door as he said: “So this is the kitchen, me and Brian mostly cook, because Ashes tends to burn anything and Nastya and Ivy can’t cook to save their life, you know, so we make the best of it and- oh, hi Nastya.”

“Hello, Jonny,” Nastya crossed her arms and gave Tim a judgmental one over, “Tim.”

“Hi, you must be Nastya.” Tim stepped forward and held out his hand, “We kind of did meet, but, you know, a face to the name.”

Nastya didn’t shake his hand and Tim dropped it. He could feel the nervous energy radiating of Jonny, from what the others had mentioned they must be close and it pained Tim that Nastyas anger at him had this impact on Jonny.

“I know you don’t like me.” he sighed, “I get it, I really do, I feel terrible about leaving Jonny too and I wish I could go back and slap me for it, but I did what I did, okay? I can’t change that and it seems like we’re stuck here together for forever, so you being mad isn’t going to make things better. I’m trying to make it up to Jonny, please, please, give me a chance.”

He didn’t see how Jonny made pleading eyes at her behind his back. He needed Nastya to be okay with Tim, he needed her to give him a chance and he needed her to be there and still like him if it went wrong.

Her shoulders sagged and she warned: “If I ever, and I mean ever, see Jonny cry over you again, I will cut off you genitalia and throw you in Aurora’s engine.”

“Nastyaaa.” Jonny whined, she raised a brow at him: “What, Jonny? It’s not like he won’t deserve it then.”

“I agree with Nastya, dear, full responsibility and accountability.” Tim said.

Jonny rolled his eyes and groaned: “Why is everyone suddenly so overprotective off me. I’m the crazy one and the oldest, I am the protector, not some damsel in distress.”

“Which is exactly why.” Tim and Nastya said in unison, they both looked at each other and Tim felt a slight victory at Nastyas small smile.

“Whatever, I still need to show Tim the couch room.” Jonny started to walk away, before Tim could follow Nastya stopped him and said: “Jonny isn’t the best guide, if you ever need to find anything, just ask Aurora.”

“The starship?”

“Yes.”

And with that Nastya walked away, while Jonny called out to him from where he had walked off in the other direction. Tim quickly walked over and they continued the tour.

Dinner that evening was provided by Brian and quite an awkward affair. Tim tried to get to know the others, but it seemed they had all decided to see if he proved himself worthy, before they accepted him. Brian did offer polite conversation, but that bled dry rather quickly.

In the end he just gave up and ate his dinner in silence, Jonny fiddling anxiously besides him.

The next few days went on quite similarly. He spent most of them with Jonny, who would alternate between too much energy and silent and sullen. Tim tried to keep up with him, but he was starting to get concerned about it and the stares at dinner, which was still violently silent, weren’t helping at all.

So, when they were lying in Jonnys bed, he still hadn’t gotten around to asking Ashes for his own (not that he wanted that), he asked: “What’s going on in that head of yours, munchkin?”

“What- what do you mean?” Jonny asked and Tim could hear the vulnerable defensiveness in his voice.

“I’m just concerned for you. You never want to talk and in some moments you bounce around and in others it seems the world could burn and you won’t move. I just want you to be alright, okay? I want you to talk to me, so that I can try and help.” Tim said, sounding a bit desperate, “I love you, sweetheart, I don’t want to see you upset.”

“Well, I don’t need your concern, I’ve been doing just fine without you.” Jonny spat.

Tim should have seen the outburst coming. He knew he couldn't just walk in and have everything be alright again, but it still hurt. He bit his lip, trying to keep a sharp retort in, but failed: “And I’ve really been seeing that independence lately.”

He knew it was a low blow, but Jonny was already replying before he could take it back and apologize: “Maybe if you weren’t smothering me so much, you would.”

“I- Me? Have I been smothering you?” inside Tim screamed at himself that this was just what Jonny did, he pushed people away and got defensive as if to prove to himself that they wouldn't stay if they saw him. But Tims already fierce soul had turned snappish and angry in the war and he couldn't help, but let false venom spill from his lips.

“Yes,” Jonny crossed his arms, sitting up, “you’re always around, a guy needs his space. I’m not some fragile child that will break the moment you leave me. I survived you leaving me already, I survived a lot without you before that. I don’t need you, but maybe you should think about how much you’re clinging to me.”

The words were a punch to Tims gut, he was trying so hard to be better, to stay, but the hurt was still there in Jonnys mind and that wouldn’t just disappear with Tim here. Maybe Tim deserved to be pushed away.

He got up out of the bed and stated: “Alright, if I’m smothering you that much, then I’ll give you some space.”

And with that he walked out the room. If he had bothered to turn around, he would have seen how Jonnys face crumbled as he curled into a ball on the bed, contemplating if he should call out, but the door was already closed.

Outside Tim realized he had nowhere to go. He still didn’t really know the way and no one aboard Aurora liked him enough to help. Fuck, he really did need Jonny. Why was he so stupid? Why did he let his anger get the best of him?

He suddenly had no energy to do anything and just collapsed on the floor outside of Jonnys room and leaned against the door. He wanted nothing more than to go back in and apologize, but he still wasn’t sure if Jonny was serious about the smothering and he didn’t want to risk angering him even more.

Maybe if he was nice and stayed out of the way tonight, Jonny would want to talk to him again next morning and then he could apologize.

Tim felt like such a dumbass, sitting against the door in his nightshirt. He probably ruined all he did so far. Jonny didn’t need him, not really. Here he had a family that loved him and would die for him, even if they did come back, but Tim still wanted to be the one to tell him how much he was worth and how much he loved him.

It might be selfish, but Tim wanted to be the one to make Jonny blush and smile. He wanted to be there when his brain got the better of him and he needed someone to hold him and tell him it was alright. Tim wanted to be the one who made him happy, just like before.

But now he might have ruined that, just because he snapped back at Jonny even if he already knew Jonny didn’t mean it, that he probably did it out of an insecurity that Tim only fed into instead of banished.

Like an idiot.

He never thought he would miss crying, but now he wanted to do nothing more than give himself over to heaving sobs and hope strong arms would hold him, that Bertie was still here and would make it all better again.

Yes, Bertie would have known what to do and what to say. Bertie was always better about these sort of things, about Jonny. As much as Jonny had him wrapped around his little finger, Bertie could get Jonny to do what he wanted just as easily. Always the right words and smiles ready.

Tim sighed and slumped further against the door and tried to get comfortable on the metal floor, Bertie wasn’t here and the hole in his heart felt deeper than when he was with Jonny. He needed to make it up to the other, but he didn’t know how.

What would Bertie do?

He pondered the question. Bertie would respect Jonny, not be stupid and push him when he was already upset, but if it did go wrong, he would catch him the next day. So that’s what Tim would do now. Tomorrow he promised to himself and Bertie, tomorrow he was going to apologize, grovel if he needed to, now he would just give Jonny space, just in case.

When he woke up, it was because he felt like he was falling. How he had managed to fall asleep, he did not know. He groaned and looked, only to find that it hadn’t been just a feeling, but that Jonny had opened the door he had been leaning against, causing him to fall backwards.

Jonny was looking down on him, a surprised look on his face, red rims around his eyes. He frowned: “What are you doing here?”

“Uh, well, you see, I, uhm,” Tim think of what Bertie would say, but he was not Bertie, he would never be that, so he just had to be himself as he confessed: “I had nowhere to go and I felt really bad about snapping at you, but then I thought that maybe I was smothering you, so I didn’t want to bother you, so I decided to apologize in the morning, because I am really fucking sorry and- are you crying, pumpkin?”

“You- you stayed.” Jonny sniffled, “I got really mad at you, but you still stayed here and tried to listen even if I’ve been really mean to you and you still tried to be nice and I don’t even know why I did that.”

Jonnys knees buckled and he collapsed next to Tim, who quickly sat up to wrap his arms around him. He rocked them slightly back and forth and whispered: “I promised to myself that I would make it up to you, honey. I’m never making the mistake of leaving you ever again.”

After a while Jonny said: “I’m sorry for getting mad at you.”

“I’m sorry for snapping at you, I know you didn’t mean it.” Tim replied, “I just worry about you and I got frustrated, but I shouldn’t have gotten angry with you. I never was the one who was good at that and I just didn’t think.”

Jonny was silent for a moment, then he whispered: “I miss him.”

“Me too.” Tim squeezed Jonny tightly, to reassure him and to remind himself that he was still there and not alone.

“I feel bad, because you’re here and that is already a miracle, but I still miss him.” Jonny was crying and Tim would be concerned about how often he’d seen Jonny cry these past few days, if his own eyes didn’t ache to join him.

All he could do was hold on and say: “It’s alright, well, it’s not, he should be here and I fucking wish nothing more than to have him here with us, but you’re allowed to grieve, dear, just let it all out.”

“Just- Why him?” Jonnys voice cracked, “Why did he have to die? I should have- should have protected him, but I was too late and it’s all so fucking unfair.”

“It is unfair.” Tim agreed, “It’s so unfair, but it’s not your fault, Jonny, it’s not. He would never blame you and neither do I.”

“I hate it, I just hate it.” Jonny pouted, cheeks and eyes wet, but his eyes full of rage, “I fucking hate it.”

“Yeah, I do too, teacup, just don’t hate it so much that it will ruin you, because he wouldn't want that for you.” Tim hated telling Jonny not to let the anger consume him after he had abandoned everything for his own rage.

“You got that perspective now?” Jonny asked, quirking a brow at him, a bit of a sharp edge to his voice.

“I know, it’s too late. Lying on a table in the dark gives you time to think, suddenly realized how pointless it all was and how badly I treated you and how much I wished I could make it better, to just be able hold you again and apologize.” Tim said.

The anger drained out of Jonny and he sighed: “You’re right, of course, you’re fucking right, I just wish anger or violence could be the answer that’s what I do. I can’t- I don’t- Not this. I’m not made for this.”

He sounded so frustrated and broken at the end and Tim just wanted to take all the anger, all the frustration and hurt from him, but he knew he couldn’t. Instead he kissed his forehead and sadly smiled: “No one is made for this, precious. I wasn’t, I’m still not.”

Jonny thought about that. Then he kissed Tim, it was soft and desperate and not really what Tim was used to, but he welcomed it nonetheless. When Jonny pulled back he asked: “What was that about?”

“You’re just so good for me and I know you feel guilty about what happened after B- you know? But you don’t have to feel guilty about it.” Jonny said, it was clear that he’d thought about it for a while, “It hurt, of course it fucking hurt, but I get it, I get it and I can’t be mad at you for it, as much as I want to blame you, I can’t.”

“Jonny-”

“No, let me talk please, because I don’t know if I can say all this again.” Jonny cut him off, “When I went- when I got here, no, before I got here, I- I was angry at my home and I burned it to the ground and it felt good to be angry and do that even if it was pointless, so I get it.”

“But can you forgive me?” Tim asked, scared of the answer, but needing to know.

“Someday, yeah, I can, just- just not now, not yet.” Jonny told him, “But we’re getting there and I still love you.”

The doubt that had been gnawing on him, disappeared with that. It was the first time Jonny told him that he loved him since he’d gotten here and he had been scared that the other didn’t anymore, that he had been too late. He breathed out in relief: “I love you too, starling.”

Jonny let out a small giggle, breaking the sad tension that had hung over them. He smiled: “You with your silly pet names.”

Tim laughed too and promised: “I got a whole lot more, Jonny-boy, don’t you worry.”

“Well, I’d like to hear them.”

“I will try my best, m’lady, but first breakfast!” Tim said, a weight off his shoulder as he pulled Jonny up. This conversation had been what they needed, a bit of clearing the air so that they could move forward and be sure where they stood even if a fight had brought it on.

They walked to breakfast hand in hand. The past few days they had been close, but the barrier of uncertainty was gone now and the contact now felt more natural. A happy bubble floated up in Tims chest as Jonny chattered on about a stupid dream he’d had.

Entering the dining room everyones gaze fell on them. Ashes stood up, butter knife in hand, and asked: “Has Jonny been crying? What did you do to him?”

Where before he would sit silent and say nothing, just send them pleading glances to keep their mouth shut, Jonny now snapped: “Don’t do this, Ashes. If he could, he would have been crying too. It was good crying, now shut the fuck up before I shoot you.”

“Are you sure?” Ashes asked. Tim noticed Nastya had stood up as well, hand at her holster.

“Yes, I’m sure. You could all be a bit nicer to Tim, it’s not like he doesn’t belong here. He is family too now, it would do you good to get to know him at least.”

Ashes looked a bit unsure at that, but they did sit down again and so did Nastya. With that done, Jonny seemed a bit more awkward, thorn between Tim and his other family. Tim just dragged him to his chair and said: “Come on, eat something. You get cranky when you’re hungry.”

“I do not.” Jonny replied indignantly.

Tim rolled his eyes playfully and smirked: “So that time you forgot to eat and then complained about the soil for two hours and threatened to shoot me over telling you to calm down, was just you being happily full, eh, bubbles?”

Jonny blushed a bright scarlet and mumbled something that was drowned out by Ashes chocking loudly. They now registered the pet names that they had missed in the surprise back when Tim had first arrived and exclaimed: “Bubbles?”

The flush got darker and Jonny gritted out: “Shut up.”

Some of the others laughed as well and Tim felt kind of bad for the embarrassment he was causing Jonny, but it really wasn’t his fault. He’d tried to keep the pet names on the down low with everyone hating him, but, with the more relaxed atmosphere between him and Jonny, it had just slipped out.

Tim had been about to save Jonny when The Toy Soldier asked: “What Is So Weird About Tim Calling Jonny Bubbles? He Always Uses Strange Names That Aren’t Jonny To Refer To Him.”

Multiple people at the table began to grin as Jonny tried to disappear into thin air with no success. Interested Nastya asked: “Really, TS? What sort of names then?”

“Well, I Remember Dearie, Gorgeous, Sweetie, Jellybean-” The Toy Soldier was cut off by Jonny, who shot it before glaring at everyone and saying: “Not a goddamn word.”

“Ahw, are you embarrassed about me, missy?” Tim teased, knowing the last time he’d used that particular moniker Jonny had spluttered for a full minute or two.

The effect was the same. The already prominent blush spread further and further as Jonny waved his gun haphazardly around and gaped like a fish. There was more laughter and in the end he just dramatically draped himself over Tim as he exclaimed: “Why do you hate me?”

Carding a hand through his hair Tim said: “I could never. Here, I’ll even make you coffee.”

“‘M gonna need something stronger than coffee,” Jonny pouted, still hiding his face, “but you’re making a strong argument.”

Tim decided he liked the new vibe in the room with the others, as it allowed Jonny to be softer and him to be more himself as well. He gently reminded Jonny: “I thought we had all agreed first coffee then something else, cuddle bug. Remember?”

With his face still hidden Jonny couldn't see the others biting their lips at the pet name. All wanted to see if Jonny would actually do it. They of course didn’t know how Bertie had made the most convincing puppy dog eyes as he played up the concerned boyfriend act when they made the agreement.

“Alright, but I’m drinking something stronger right after.” apparently Jonny was going to honor the agreement, even if the other party wasn’t there anymore.

With a smile Tim got up and went to make coffee after he had gently pushed Jonny off of himself. While he was away, Brian leaned over and softly said: “He seems nice. You look happier, Jonny. That’s good. I’m glad for you.”

Nastya and Ashes nodded. Jonny couldn't help but smile at that, he’d been so worried when everyone had seemed mad at Tim. He didn’t like to see his family members fighting and a part of him had feared that the animosity would never fade.

The moment was ruined by Ashes who asked: “How many times will you kill me if I ever refer to you as bubbles or cuddle bug or missy? And how mad will you get when I tell him you used to be a cowboy?”

They were answered by a shot through their head, however it was too late, because Tim had entered just in time to witness the murder. He raised his brow and asked: “I’ve gathered the immortality thing, but is this a regular occurrence?”

“Sadly, yes, there is 67% chance that someone will not survive the day when everyone is in a good mood, this rises to 91.5% when someone isn’t.” Ivy told him.

“Great.” Tim said, handing Jonny his coffee, which he took gratefully, before making himself a bowl of cereal as well as one for Tim.

Ashes and TS didn’t wake up during breakfast and Tim had a pleasant chat with Brian about string instruments, apparently the other played banjo. Meanwhile Jonny and Nastya seemed to be having an in depth conversation about whether Ashes would be mad if Jonny stole their tongue.

When the last spoonful was in gone, Tim got up and stated: “I want to see this observation deck that I’ve heard about. Come on, cowboy, lead the way.”

“Oh no, you heard that?” Jonny groaned, but he got up anyway to show Tim.

“I almost get the feeling that you’re ashamed of my pet names.” Tim told him, then more dramatically he went on, “The light of my life, my own little gremlin and cutie pie, ashamed of little humble me.”

“Oh come on, you dork. That’s enough teasing material to last them a few centuries, the vultures.” despite his words Jonny had a smile on his lips and Tim hadn’t seen him happier in a very long while.

He ceased his pet names onslaught and just let Jonny drag him away from the others to the observation deck where they both sat down to watch the stars.

Tim had wrapped his arm around Jonny, who leaned into him gratefully. It was oddly domestic after most of their experiences together being in the middle of a war, but Tim found that he quite liked this opportunity for a new them.

There was still a lot to do, a lot to work through and talk about. Tim had to adjust to an immortal life and fully win over the others, even if he was already on the way. He’d have to get used to living again, for the first time actually function without Bertie there. There was also Jonny, whose forgiveness and trust he still had to earn, despite the love he already had. It all seemed very daunting, but with Jonny under his arm, safely tucked into his side, it didn’t seem so bad anymore.

“I love you, nugget.” he told Jonny softly, planting a kiss on the top of his head.

“I love you too, Tim.” Jonny replied, shifting to make himself even more comfortable next to Tim.

Yeah, this wasn’t so bad. Tim could get used to this.

#RR writing #tw: grief #tw: emotional issues #The Mechanisms #the mechs #Jonny d'Ville #gunpowder tim #jonny d'ville x gunpowder Tim #Bertie x gunpowder Tim x Jonny d'ville #bertie (the mechs)#doc carmilla #carmilla #Ashes O'Reilly #Nastya Rasputina #jonny d'ville & nastya rasputina #the toy soldier #drumbot brian #toy soldier

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