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lil-smutier · 2 years ago

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So like just here me out… kuroo x chubby reader

But they were childhood friends and once Highschool started kuroo had moved to Korea for some reason 4 years later your favorite kpop group is making a world tour and having a fan sign and you run into kuroo- 👀

[ A/N : I am so sorry this is late :,) I’m not good at writing fluff and I’m not in the Kpop fandom, but I tried my best! ]

- Memories with Kuroo -

You sigh as you clean out your old Google drive and USB photos, the highschool-life having taken a serious toll on your storage ( so, so many notes and test papers you had to scan and keep into pdfs ). Luckily however, among the countless class work folders you had to empty out; you did manage to uncover some beautifully chaotic memories from throughout your middle school age up until today — your highschool graduation.

A familiar face catches your eye.

Tetsuro Kuroo, your absolute childhood-come-best friend stuck close to your side in almost every photo. You smiled solemnly at them, thinking back to all the memories the two of you had shared before he had to head off to Korea for his father’s business. Though the text messages and occasional late night calls between you both didn’t stop completely, you couldn’t help but feel him slowly detaching himself and forgetting about you. At first, you played it off as him being too busy adjusting and moving into his new life in a new country, but as the calls grew shorter and the messages less frequent, you couldn’t stop yourself from letting your mind wander.

Back to the present and shaking yourself out of it, you realise you had been tearing up slightly, a sole, stray line of salt dripped down from your eye to your chin as you stared at the last photo you both took before his flight; his arms wrapped tightly around your curved form while you both smiled from ear to ear. It had been what, 4 years? Man, you really need to get a hold of yourself, you reason; wiping away your sadness before continuing to tidy up your digital storage some more.

About an hour or so more passes before you consider yourself done with whatever you needed to sort out, leaning back into your swivel chair and cracking your back as you feel the back of the chair lean to your comfort as well. Yawning tiredly, you rub at your eyes, deciding to get some much needed shut-eye before tomorrow; it would be a big day after all, you smile to yourself, sparing a quick glance at your calendar to reconfirm the time and place for the nth time, – you were headed to your favorite Kpop group’s fansign, so you were justified for your constant rechecking of the details – after all, it wasn’t every year that they chose to do a worldwide tour including Japan amongst most other asian countries.

Tossing your wallet, self-defense tools ( cause you never know when you might need them ), and powerbank into your purse you head to bed, sleeping peacefully with the knowledge you were gonna have a great day tomorrow. The next morning, you woke up extra early to put together an outfit you felt cute in. After mixing-and-matching multiple sets of skirts, pants, tops and sweaters, you finally settled on a combination you liked, slipping on your purse and shoes before heading out to the convention.

The place is bustling with, well, everyone.

On one half of the long hall, there’re people selling various Korean goodies such as snacks and street foods along with an array of ice-blended or hot drinks to wash it all down – you feel your mouth tingling as you eye the stacks of crazily flavored marshmallows, there was even a marshmallow coated ice cream stick!! ( you were totally buying a few of those home ) – and on the other half, fans and idols alike were either stationed upon stages with long tables set for them to sit and chat with everyone, or perched happily at their own stalls selling merchandise and conversing with fans alike. A warm, fuzzy feeling settled in your heart when you watched everyone converse and share their experiences with people they’d otherwise call complete strangers; to you, it was super cool how one person’s interests could connect them with others so easily and vice versa.

Getting some snacks, you headed over to the booth where your idols were seated, slowly pushing through the crowd of excited and energetic fans to try to get to the front. Your plan seemed to be working until you ended up stuck behind a very tall man; he looked around 6”3 which intimidated you a little since you weren’t the tallest or scariest person out there ( you were a 5” pudgy little person ) but you were still determined to get to the foot of the stage since it would give you a better chance of getting picked to go on stage with your idol, so you continued your mission, trying to squeeze through the unknown giant and the person next to him. Unfortunately, you seemed to misjudge your own strength, knocking into the giant way harder than you had planned to, hearing an irritated grunt and a “Hey!”, you moved as fast as you could away from him, which… wasn’t very far since the place was swarmed by people everywhere.

Adrenaline rushed through your veins as you felt a firm grip close around your wrist, immediately reaching down to the pepper spray hanging from your bag strap. The sudden panic in the guy’s voice caught you off-guard, “Hey wait– I just want an apology. You don’t have to spray me– wait… ____________? ” the words trailed off as you turned around, squinting to try and figure out who this guy was; after all, he seemed to recognize you almost instantly… it was tough though, trying to match a voice to a face that you could’ve sworn you knew like the tip of your tongue, but couldn’t quite place until–

“Tetsu??”

The two of you had slipped out of the crowd to chat, – with the deal that you would both be back before your idols had left of course – you awkwardly offered Kuroo some of your snacks in a desperate hope to start a conversation after being deprived of it for quite some time. Thankfully, he accepted it, smiling warmly at you before beginning, “First things first– do you always run away after bumping into someone?” he huffed out a small laugh, enjoying the view as your cheeks bloomed into a soft pink color. You rub the back of your neck sheepishly, explaining how you still aren’t the best with people even after all these years, a feeling of guilt washing over you when you saw his expression go from happy to sad in a matter of moments, “N-no!!” you cry out abruptly, making his eyes widen as he silently urges you to continue; you collect yourself, “I mean… I’m getting better with people, it’s just that people don’t take too kindly when someone who doesn’t fit their standard of ‘normal’ tries to correct them.” you sigh, carefully gauging his expression.

To your surprise, he places a hand on your head, giving you a few reassuring pats before looking back at you thoughtfully, “Hey, listen, I know you’re doing your absolute best ________, and I’m sorry I never had the chance to tell you how proud I am of you.” you feel your eyes welling up with tears, all your bottled up pain surging up through your stomach and throat fast before Kuroo continues, “And if anyone, and I mean anyone, tries to change that about you… you can tell them to fuck right off.” you break out into watery giggles at that, relief washing over you that your once best friend had truly never changed a bit, even after all these years. Alas, just as fast as it came, it left along with the man himself as he excused himself to some “very important business”.

As he jogged away, you heard him yelling to you that he would definitely make it up to you soon, but you couldn’t really process it as tears started to pour from your eyes from all the memories – both painful and joyful – that came flying back like a crashing airplane. You rushed to the bathroom to calm yourself, missing your own idol’s meet-up during the time. You felt like shit, not only had you missed the main reason you came here, but you had royally messed up your once-in-forever meet-up with your childhood friend who you had not seen in ages. Feeling defeated, you washed up your face and redid your makeup, heading out into the convention center again, preparing to take your leave when you heard your name being called from the crowd.

“__________ __________? Is there a _____________ _______________ out there in the crowd today?” A voice you now knew all too well called out. Timorously, you shuffled on your feet, making eye contact with the tall ravenette who now sat on the stage with who you assumed to be his other band members, before being beckoned over to join him. What? Is this some fever dream or something?? You ask inwardly, pinching yourself hard while you take shaky steps onto the stage; taking a seat across from your highschool bestfriend, the dull white timer ticking away from 3 minutes next to you both.

“Tetsu what–”

“Hold on– Let me explain–” He cut you off, raising his hands in a surrender motion before moving on, “When we were 17, my dad had a business trip in Korea, and that’s why I had to move so suddenly, that was true. What I didn’t know was that this business involved sending me off to a music industry so I could ‘be like one of the stars we see on TV one day’. Well, it looks like he got his wish.” you frown while listening to his story. So all this time that he had dropped contact, or said he was too busy; he really was, he hadn’t forgotten about me… fighting the tears away, you opened your mouth to ask him if he was happy doing this, but what came out instead was: “So why were you in the crowd earlier? Don’t you have a backstage pass you can use anytime?”

Smooth. Real smooth ___________.

Luckily, he seemed to find your confusion funny, chuckling softly before explaining it to you, “Just because I’m a star now doesn’t mean I have endless authority _________, I mean, I do, but that only applies to my own band’s shows and meet-and-greets.” “Still doesn’t explain why you were in the crowd then…” you counter, watching as he raises an eyebrow at you, “What’s there to explain? I happen to like that idol very much.” Now it was your turn to laugh, “Yeah, sure, not as much as me though.” you challenge, watching his eyes light up.

“Oh yeah? Try me.”

The both of you spent the next 2 minutes and 37 seconds throwing trivia questions about your shared favorite back and forth before the beep of the timer shattered the fun – you won though, and although you got a few seconds to gloat and rub it in your best friend’s face, he easily contradicted you by saying that he was too busy to keep up with the recent news anyways, so it wasn’t a fair game –. You smile sadly, getting up and bidding him goodbye with a cheesy “I’ll text you!” to which he just beamed back and nodded.

The next day you had work. Clocking into the cafe you worked at, you sucked in a breath as you tightened the apron around your waist a little too tightly; accidentally turning it into a corset for a split second before readjusting it to your comfort. You had always been a foodie, but since you didn’t really enjoy interacting with people much, a friend of yours suggested this pretty vintage cafe! It was perfect, the days were relatively quiet and comfortable, and you were allowed to take back any pastries or drinks you wished for after you took stock count. ( and hey, they were the bomb! ) Looking up at the bell chime, you said your usual greeting and welcomed whoever had entered.

“Hi there! Welcome to Bear’s Coffee and Cookies! What’s on your mind today–” You nearly shrieked when you recognized the person who had entered. “Tets–” “Shh, I’m not supposed to be here!!” Kuroo whisper-shouted, quickly readjusting his beanie and mask in a feeble attempt at hiding his identity. You giggled slightly, still too in shock to really process what just happened as you recollected yourself, “What’s on your mind today Sir?” “One americano and a slice of chocolate cake please.” he ordered quietly, careful not to catch anyone’s attention. You nodded cheerfully, “Please take a seat! I’ll have that out for you in a bit!” true to your word, you whipped up the order as quickly as you could, bringing it over to him as discreetly as possible; starting to head back to the counter before you heard him calling back to you.

“Stay, please.”

“I really shouldn’t–”

“No one’s here, and it’s not lunch hour. Come on, I even ordered this cake for you.” He all but pleaded, catching you off guard as you stared at him. He ordered you a slice of cake..? You felt your heart warm at the thought, shyly sitting across from him while he slid the plate across the table, moving to take a sip at his drink. “Your favorite right?” He asked, eyeing you carefully, “Yeah…You remember?” “Of course I do, I never forget about the stuff you tell me y'know.” Kuroo grinned, a sense of pride filling his ego to the point you could’ve sworn it would be tangible. Laughing at his display of victory, you thank him, offering to pay him back when he stops you.

“It’s okay. Take it as an apology from me.”

You squint at him, “An apology? For what?”

“For leaving my best friend alone without any news or knowledge of what might have happened to me. When I ran into you yesterday, I couldn’t help but feel guilty for never being there for you when you needed me. I wanted to shield you from all those assholes that said whatever they said about you. I wanted to shout at them and call them idiots for not noticing how amazing and beautiful of a person you are, even if you can’t see that for yourself.”

You open your mouth to say something, but he holds up a finger to tell you he isn’t done yet.

“I wanted to apologize when you came up on stage, but then we ended up playing trivia and talking about me. I don’t regret it at all, trust me; I don’t, but I couldn’t help but wonder… What if we had more time? What if I had one more chance to tell you what I wanted to say all these years? And then today I was sneaking out to get a snack since our company puts us on a strict diet, and it was like the universe heard me.”

For a few minutes, you sit in silence, just looking at each other while you think about what to say; how to react. Then you take a deep breath, “You don’t need to be sorry for anything Tetsu. I never needed you to be my knight in shining armor, in fact, I was totally fine on my own; and I mean that in the nicest way possible mind you– I really appreciate that you wanted to be there for me.” you twirl your fork in your hand before continuing,”I always knew you were busy doing whatever you needed to, and I don’t blame you for it and I never will.” You watch your best friend's eyes begin to water, a tiny sniffle escaping him before he smiles at you; a huge weight surely having been lifted from his shoulders.

“It’s kinda funny to think about,” you huff after a little while, catching his attention, “I used to think you were getting tired of me; that you were forgetting about me.”

“You don’t forget about people you love.” It was so quiet you nearly missed it despite the silence of the cafe

You choke on your chocolate cake. “I- What?”

“You heard me _________, I love you, always had and always will.” He repeated, tone dead serious.

Unexpectedly, your eyes start filling with tears as you look at him sadly, “...Don’t do that.” you sniffle, hating yourself for the way your voice comes out all wobbly. Kuroo’s eyes widened, concerned that he had said something wrong, did– did you not love him? Shit, did you already have someone else? By the time he’s done calculating the possibilities of what could’ve gone wrong; you were gone. In a blind panic, he shot up from the table, eyes flicking from here to there in a desperate hope to try and spot you, which he did thankfully. You were seated on a bench outside the cafe, it was well hidden and shaded by a few tall trees; you always sat out here when days got rough or when you just weren’t feeling it so you could collect yourself before heading back to work.

Today though, you were too lost in your thoughts to even notice the frantic man running towards you until it was too late. Kuroo took his seat next to you, still panting lightly as he reached out to you slowly, drawing his hand back when you flinched away, “Please tell me what I did wrong ________.” he pleaded, trying to get you to look at him, but you refused, “Don’t do that.” you repeated. “Don’t do what?” He urged on, “Treat me like I’m one of your fangirls! I don’t know what they want to hear from you, but I’m not some sort of damsel in distress Tetsuro! I forgive you for not being there, but for the love of god do not lie about loving me!”

Now it was Kuroo’s turn to be hurt.

“Now what in the fuck, makes you think I would lie about that??”

“Oh I don’t know, maybe the fucking fact we just met after lacking contact for so damn long, and now you’re here telling me ‘oh whoops! I actually love you, sorry about that!’??”

“That’s because I fucking do love you?!”

“Why would you?! I’m nothing special! I was never anyone’s first pick, nor was I their last. Hell, I was never ‘pretty enough’ or ‘social enough’ to make even the smallest difference! What in the world do you even like about me, let alone love??”

Kuroo let out a laugh of disbelief, “Wow, is that really what you think I care about?” seeing that you were speechless – whether that be because you were genuinely hearing him out, or because you were that angry he didn’t care at the moment – he carried on, “__________ I couldn’t give two fucks about whether you’re the prettiest or the most social person I’ve ever met. I do not fucking care about whether you weren’t anyone’s first or last choice because what matters to me is that you are my last. At this point, I don’t know if you believe me, but I love you.” he took a deep breath. “I love you so much that it made me feel like absolute shit everytime I had to end a phone call with you early because some fucking producer was calling me, I love you so much that I thought I was seeing shit when you bumped into me yesterday. I thought I was going crazy when I saw you in this cafe today and I’d be damned if I let you go now; so please, for the love of god. Give me a chance.”

Before you could break down into tears again, you turned to face him in what seemed like hours. “Fine. But only because you’re my best friend, but if you ever break my heart, you can forget about it, Kuroo Tetsuro. I mean it.” Your voice was hoarse and crackly, but it still held the threat heavy within them. Kuroo nodded, “Understood ma’am. Now if you’d do me the honor, I believe we have a meal to finish?” he offered gently, raising from his seat and holding out a hand for you to take, which you do with a soft smile, “And a lot to catch up.” you nod.

Maybe giving him a chance would be worthwhile.

#haikyuu kuroo #kuroo tetsuro x you #kuroo tetsurō #kuroo headcanons #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo tetsuro fluff #kuroo tetsuro angst

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forestwater87 · 3 years ago

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Chapter 15: Grand Gesture

Summary: GRAND GESTURE: He or she must be willing to put it all on the line now or risk losing the one thing they need to become whole-hearted. It’s life or death now.

CW: Smut in the last third of the chapter. Questionable quality.

Summer 2017

“Fuck!” Gwen felt her center of gravity shift as she leaned forward, overbalancing on the rickety chair she’d been using to reach the ceiling. It tipped perilously on two legs, then lost the fight with physics and sent her sprawling with a crash that shook the dozens of tiny papers taped around the room. She hit the ground with her hip and the side of her face, one of them making a disturbing crunch sound and both shooting bright white pain down her entire right side. “Shit!”

She was halfway to her feet, wondering if the crossed-eyes dizzy feeling was from lack of sleep, hitting her head, or marker fumes, when fingers closed around her upper arm and she was hauled upright. “Gwen! Goodness, are you okay?” David let go of her, his gaze roving around the room as he took a step back. “What happened in here?”

She looked around, taking a deep breath and noticing for the first time in hours the thick perfume of tacky glue and paint, as though David walking in had turned her senses back on. It was done, mostly. Well, no — it’d never really be done, but it was enough to prove her point.

She hoped.

While she was panicking, David had wandered over to the center of the room, ducking to avoid a string of origami animals dangling from the ceiling. “Is this for camp?”

“Yes — I mean, no, it’s from camp, and maybe we can reuse some of it but no, it’s . . . not really . . .” She’d planned this, during her mad crafting frenzy: how David would come home, wonder what she was doing, and she’d carefully tour him through everything — or maybe she’d let him get on with his morning routine while she added a few more things, made it just a bit closer to perfect.

But his presence had pulled her to a halt. She’d been like a shark all night, afraid to stop moving or she’d die, but now that he was here she felt drained, the giddy, terrified adrenaline that’d been keeping her going evaporating in an instant.

Though hey. At least she had a good reason to be tired, for once.

He frowned at her discarded supplies strewn carelessly around the room. “Are these from Art Camp?”

The question jolted her into action, and she stumbled forward jerkily, like the Tin Man without oil. “Yeah, but I already took it out of my paycheck, it’s fine. I’ll go shopping tomorrow for new stuff.” She wanted him to hear what she really meant, what she was trying to put together through exhausted babbling: that this was important, that it was worth sacrificing sleep and money for, that she loved him and she respected him and she wanted him to know that.

Finally, finally, he turned his attention to the walls. “Gwen, what is all this?”

“It’s you,” she blurted out, then winced and rested her forehead in her palm. “No, that’s not — it’s — some of the stuff you’ve taught me, look . . .” She took his hand, her nerves trembling at the brush of his fingers against her own, and pulled him toward the doorway. She’d made a messy semicircle around the room, right to left like a supermarket. Dropping his hand, she took a step back, steepling her fingers like she was praying and pressing them to her lips with another steadying breath.

She had one chance.

“Okay,” she began. “So . . .”

---

Gwen looked like she was on the verge of falling over, listing dangerously to the side as she led him across the room. There were feathers in her hair, and scraps of paper; she was speckled with color, marker and paint and even a smear of glitter glue on the tip of her nose, the pads of her fingers nearly black with a rainbow of ink that stained his hand as she held it. It was obvious she hadn’t slept, even more obvious that she desperately needed to.

But her eyes were bright even if the circles under them were dark, and she thrummed with an energy and animation David hadn’t seen all summer.

And he couldn’t bring himself to interrupt her, not when it finally felt like she’d returned to him.

“— song you taught me last year,” she said, and he felt a flash of guilt that he hadn’t been listening. She tapped the paper she’d stuck to the wall, the lyrics of his Camp Campbell song scrawled across it in uneven lines. “All the camp activities, remember? At least the most important ones.”

(It was really just the ones that fit best into the rhyme scheme, but he didn’t correct her as she moved on to a second piece of paper.)

“This is a list of all the facts about nature I’ve learned since I started here,” she continued, gesturing. This one was crammed so tightly with writing that he could barely read it, bullet points snaking in all directions and increasingly smaller handwriting as it moved down the page, until finally Gwen had started attaching sticky notes to the wall below and around the list. “I had to keep going back and adding things as I thought of them. I know I’m forgetting something, but I can’t —” She gestured around her head in a classic “scatterbrained” motion, chuckling weakly. “I’m kind of all over the place right now.”

Next: a bullseye, a pencil stuck point-first into the wall. “I couldn’t really shoot an arrow,” Gwen explained, “but remember that summer you taught me archery? I’m still pretty good at it — we went to a shooting range for Claire’s birthday last year and I was the only one who hit the target every time.”

Next: a messy drawing of a forest, a little stick figure kneeling next to a moss-covered rock. “That one time we got lost in the woods trying to find a good place for bug-catching, you got us out because you knew how to find north. You’d be pretty great in a zombie apocalypse.”

Next: a sheet of black construction paper poked through with holes, hastily taped to the back window so light from the lamp outside shone through in little pinpricks. He leaned closer and realized that they were in the rough shape of the constellations visible above Lake Lilac. “I didn't know much about stars and shit outside of, like, horoscope stuff — I mean, in the city you can’t even see them — but you always pointed out which constellations and planets were out during the summer and now I know them all too.”

And on, and on. Scale models of the crafts and activities they’d done at Camp Campbell, nature facts, and on one wall she’d tacked up a typewritten letter to the Director of Admissions at Queen’s University Belfast. Skimming it quickly, it looked to David like an application.

“I was trying to get into their Environmental Science program. I wrote about Sleepy Peak Peak and Lake Lilac,” she admitted, looking almost embarrassed. “I got in. And I mean, they’re not the best program out there, but they’re still in the top 300 worldwide so that’s pretty cool, I guess —”

“Belfast?” He leaned in closer, confirming that he’d read correctly. “Isn’t that in England?”

“Yeah.” She looked impressed, and he suppressed a weary smirk; yes, he did know a bit about the world outside of Camp Campbell. But she surprised him by adding, “I had to look that up, actually.” She shrugged. “Guess I should’ve just asked you, huh?

“Anyway, that was a couple years ago. I didn’t go, obviously,” she added, responding to his unspoken question. “International travel’s a bitch. I needed a scholarship, and my grades weren’t good enough. I think I only got in at all because of my letter.” She gestured at it, not quite meeting his eyes. “Which I never thanked you for. Or most of the stuff I’ve learned from you. I’ve been . . . kinda taking all that for granted. So, uh . . . thanks, David.”

He wanted to tell her she was welcome, that she didn’t need to thank him at all. That sharing these things with her had been the highlight of his life since they’d met, even if it hadn’t seemed like she cared about any of it. But there was a lump quivering dangerously in his throat and he didn’t trust himself to speak, so he just nodded.

After a second she cleared her throat awkwardly and led him over to a row of stick figures hanging from the ceiling. “Some of these are from Yoga Camp,” she said, pointing at a few of the ones contorted into uncomfortable shapes, “but also all that other stuff you do. Like smile exercises —” and yes, one of the stick figures had a big pink smiley face, “— and breathing techniques and stuff. I use those sometimes when I’m having a panic attack. They really help, even if smile exercises still make me feel like a dumbass most of the time.”

The decorations started to get more abstract as they made their way around the room, simple crafts and trivia giving way to colorful scribbles and symbols, representing things he’d said to her about her relationship with her parents, her love life. “You have really good advice, you know that? You could be the next Dear Abby or something, seriously. I think that’s still running.”

(It was; he read it every morning with his pre-breakfast tea.)

“These get worse, sorry . . . I was getting tired.” Gwen jerked her chin up at a wobbly butterfly — or was it a bird? — dangling over their heads. “I use your advice about hummingbird-ing all the time. With writing, mostly, but sometimes at work or something, too.”

He gently reached up and touched the bird’s feet, watching it spin in a lazy circle. Technically the idea had been his mother’s, a way to avoid burnout by flitting from one project to another and adding just a little bit to each, instead of devoting all energy and resources to one thing and slogging through until it was done. The whole idea was part of his ethos of being a counselor — wasn’t Camp Campbell a place to get a little taste of everything, after all? He remembered explaining it to Gwen during her first week at camp, just over five years ago.

He wouldn’t have ever imagined that she’d actually remembered.

He didn’t think she remembered any of this.

But the evidence was all around him — on the walls, hanging from the ceiling, dozens of examples, mementos of the tiny moments that meant everything to him. Immortalized, remembered, in increasingly sloppy handwriting and doodles.

In the corner was a bright red card that looked familiar. David moved over to it and laughed in recognition: it was one he’d sent her after her first or second summer at Camp Campbell, when he’d seen on Facebook that she was looking for work. He tugged it off the wall, careful not to damage the cheap cardstock, and smiled down at the deer wearing a plaid hunting cap, which he’d made out of tissue paper and markers (he’d gotten much better since then, thanks to a few years of Decoupage Camps).

‘Good luck on your job HUNT! I know you’ll slay the interview!’

“I’ve kept that for years to show my friends,” Gwen said, making him jump; he hadn’t realized she’d come up behind him, but she was close enough to nearly rest her head against his. “I felt like it really captured the kind of guy you were.”

Her breath prickled the side of his neck, and he distracted himself by opening the card — ‘oh deer, is this joke going on too long? I feel like it’s overkill!’ — noticing how worn the crease was, like she’d opened and closed it hundreds of times. “Does it?”

He felt her shake her head without having to face her, stray wisps of hair that’d escaped her ponytail tickling his cheek. “Not even close.”

Unable to resist, he looked back at her over his shoulder, and she took his arm, turning him around the rest of the way. He thought she was going to kiss him — she was close enough that he could see a smeary glue thumbprint on her cheek and what looked like half a smiley-face sticker in her hair — but she just took the card from him, setting it carefully on the couch before taking hold of both his hands. Her expression was grave, shining faint with hope, and between the craft debris and her naked earnestness, she looked incredibly young and vulnerable.

“There’s more,” she said, gesturing with her chin toward the far wall, “and I’ll let — I want you to look at it, but . . . I just had to tell you, I’ve been taking you for granted and it’s not right. I’ve been pretending I still think of you as this —” Pulling one of her hands away, she picked up the card again, her fingers shaking so the deer’s toothpick antlers clacked together, “— sweet, silly, kinda childish David, who belongs with someone sweet, and silly, and kinda childish. And I tried to be that and . . . I mean I sucked at it,” she said, breaking off with a weak laugh, dropping her eyes to their joined hands. “And it . . . kind of broke me. But I didn’t even think to ask if that was what you wanted, because I thought I knew what you needed, and that was — so, really fucked.” She looked back up at him, her eyes dancing with purple fire, her grip on his hand tightening. “And I — I don’t, you know so much that I don’t — I could fill the entire cabin with stuff I’ve learned from you, this doesn’t even scratch the surface.”

She paused, like she was waiting for him to interject, but David felt like he’d been turned to stone, paralyzed and unblinking while his brain whirled.

“But none of it matters if it doesn’t show . . . if you don’t know —” Her voice cracked, and she dropped his other hand, pressing a fist to her mouth. “— h-how amazing you are, how much you matter to this camp and to me and . . . and I didn’t know people could actually be happy 'til I met you. I mean, I guess I knew technically, but not that it was a real thing people actually were. But you figured it out. You’ve known what you wanted since you were a kid and then you got it and I’ve never done anything without second-guessing myself a million times but you just did it, and it meant making so many decisions about your life that could’ve turned out wrong but they didn’t because they were the right ones for you. And you knew it. You always have.” She swiped at her eyes with the heels of her hands, crying in earnest now. “You’re a marvel, David. I should’ve said that every fucking day. And I know it’s probably too little, too late, but I’m sorry. For not telling you and — and for everything.

“And I . . .” She swallowed hard, taking a few heaving breaths before continuing, and he knew she was trying to hold onto her composure even as tears poured down her cheeks, “I don’t know what you wanna do. With — with us, I mean. But you’re right, I haven’t been a good girlfriend to you, and if you don’t want to . . . if you want me to leave right now or after the summer ends or if you just wanna be friends or whatever , that’s fine. A-and — if you do . . . y’know . . .” Her face crumpled, her shoulders curling in on themselves. “I love you so much,” she managed, her words harder to make out through damp, hiccuping breaths. “Whatever — whatever you want — I — I — I trust you.”

Understanding pierced his chest, a small pinhole that allowed light to pour, warm and white, into his heart.

“I trust you.”

David hadn’t realized how desperately he’d needed to hear those words until that moment.

He stepped forward, plucking the card from her hand and tossing it onto the floor (he could make her another one, dozens if she wanted, hundreds) and tilting her chin up so he could kiss her. Her cheeks were wet under his palms, her mouth salty and acidic with the taste of not-quite-morning breath, and each brush of his lips against hers was broken by her pulling back to drag in a sobbing gasp, her mouth moving clumsily like she was as close to fainting from exhaustion and emotion as she looked.

It was, without question, the best kiss of his life.

He broke away to press his forehead against hers, sliding his hands from her face to cup the back of her neck and closing his eyes. “I love you too, Gwen,” he murmured, his heart fluttering at the giddily-incredulous, teary laugh she gave in response. “And I think you need to go to bed.”

She leaned back, and the bleary confusion on her face was so precious he rose up on his toes to press a soft kiss to her forehead. “Huh? But what about . . .”

“I’ve got some stuff to think about,” he said, then gestured at the crafts she hadn’t shown him yet, “and look at. And after that . . . we should talk. But it won’t be a very good talk if you fall asleep,” he added with a laugh as her eyes drifted closed.

She opened them halfway, just enough to glare at him, but the effect would’ve been more intimidating if she hadn’t been swaying slightly. “’m fine.” The adrenaline that’d been keeping her going was clearly wearing off fast, and David was a little worried she wouldn’t make it to bed, that he’d just find her unconscious on the floor of the hallway. “You didn’t sleep either,” she accused, pointing at him with a finger stained silvery with graphite.

Goodness, he loved her so much he couldn’t stand it. “I had a nap.” Not a long one, but he was used to not sleeping much. “Get some rest. We’ll talk in the morning.”

“It’s already the morning,” she complained, but like a sleepy robot she turned and shuffled back toward the front of the cabin. “I’m gonna brush my teeth and shower and stuff. So I look less like a sludge goblin.”

“You do that, Gwen.” He waited until the bathroom door had clicked shut before turning back to the mess she’d made of their living room. It was almost hard to tell the difference between what was art and what was trash left over, there was so much of both; it looked like an explosion had hit a crafts store.

Gwen wasn’t someone who put a lot of effort into things she didn’t care about. It was one of the most frustrating things about having her as a coworker, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t love how unabashedly honest she was, how he could read her feelings just by looking at her work.

There was the soft sound of tape unsticking and one of the decorations sagged, a corner curling away from the wall and drooping down. He pushed it carefully back into place and fumbled for his phone, setting it to camera mode.

This was worth remembering.

---

Gwen was positive she’d never be able to fall asleep; how could she, when things were still so up in the air? But she wasn’t twenty anymore, and after the exhaustion and emotional turmoil of the last few hours — days, weeks; hell, if she was being honest it’d been years since she’d truly felt well-rested — and despite the anxiety buzzing inside her skull she was out in moments.

Soft fingers in her hair drew her back to earth, and when she opened her eyes David came into focus, crouching next to her bed so they were at eye level. He smiled as she blinked at him, warmth and sunshine he probably didn’t even know he was emitting. “Goooood morning, Gwen!” he chirped, his voice way too loud for how close they were, and she winced. “Sorry,” he added, his voice dropping to a murmur. “Habit.”

“It’s fine,” she said, because she’d missed his morning bellow so much more than she could ever miss having non-punctured eardrums. She sat up, clumsily swiping at her face to double-check for drool or errant eye gunk. “Morning.”

“How are you feeling?” He hopped onto the bed, making her and everything else on the mattress bounce. He was being so . . . normal, like all the drama last night had been a dream.

Fuck it. They had some hard, painful conversations coming; she could enjoy a little bit of normalcy while her brain booted back up. “Good,” she replied, yawning. “I mean, tired, but I’m always tired so —” Her blood chilled, and suddenly she was wide awake.

There went normal. All because she had to remind him of what an unloveable disaster she was.

But when she looked back up he didn’t seem annoyed. He leaned against the wall, stretching his legs out so they dangled off the edge of the bed. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.” She scoffed before she could stop herself, and his gaze flicked up to hers, taking her breath away. (God, how she’d functioned for almost four years without feeling more than a flicker of attraction to this man was unfathomable.) “Really. I want to know what’s going on with you.” His hand landed on her knee, light as a bird but blazingly warm even through her blankets. “All I want is for you to let me in.”

A swell of emotion swept up from somewhere in her chest, causing her eyes to prick with tears for the thousandth time. She looked away and sniffed as discreetly as possible — which wasn’t very, she assumed, since he immediately reached over and handed her a tissue from the pack he kept stashed in his pockets. “I mean, if you want me to complain, I can do that,” she muttered, tamping down another flow of tears through willpower. “I can complain about fucking anything.”

David’s laugh made her turn back toward him, because it didn’t have a trace of sadness or pity or anything she’d expected. It was so purely, entirely delighted , more than even he could fake, and he was looking at her like she’d said something surprising and wonderful.

“You really like it,” she blurted out, unable to hide the awe in her voice. “That I’m like this. Whiny and —” she waved vaguely “— bitchy, and whatever.”

“I don’t.” He shook his head and her stomach plummeted. But as she took a breath to respond he shifted closer, gently cupping the back of her neck so he could tap his forehead against hers. “I love it, Gwen. I love everything about you.”

A laugh burbled out of her before she could stop it, and she pulled away to hide her face. “Oh my god. You bastard. You’re so cheesy.”

His fingers closed around her wrists, tugging her palms away from her face. “I love you,” he said, kissing the skin she’d covered with her hands — the tip of her nose, each cheek, her top and bottom lip, her eyebrows.

“I love you, too.” She could already tell that if he was going to keep saying that to her she’d spontaneously combust, because this was all too cute and romantic and lovely and she still didn’t fully understand how this was happening, why he didn’t hate her.

But she’d promised she wouldn’t question his decision, whatever it was. She owed him that much.

His smile faded slightly, a faint line appearing between his eyebrows. “What’re you thinking?”

“Nothing,” she lied automatically, and when that only made him sigh she added, “I said I was going to trust you,” hating the note of defensiveness in her voice, because of the two of them she didn’t have much grounds for righteous indignation.

“Then trust me with how you feel.” It should’ve sounded too much like a cliche, something she’d tease him for, but he was right and they both knew it.

She’d put him through hell by not telling him the truth, and they both knew that, too.

Gwen closed her eyes, taking a deep breath and forcing herself to relax. Things were — they seemed okay, didn’t they? Almost normal, but better, because all her ugliness was out there for him to see and he knew about it and he didn’t seem to mind. And wasn’t that something she’d never thought she’d ever actually find? “I don’t get it,” she admitted, her voice sounding small and stupid. “I keep feeling like . . . like I tricked you somehow. Like I didn’t explain well enough why you shouldn’t want me, because if you really got it you wouldn’t be here. Not because I think you’re stupid,” she added quickly, desperately, “because I don’t, really! But — but even smart people can be . . . I don’t know, manipulated?”

The confusion in her voice made her pause, sit back. Manipulated? That couldn’t be right, could it? She wasn’t trying to manipulate anyone, and she was pretty sure you couldn’t manipulate someone by accident.

Or maybe you could; she hadn’t always paid a ton of attention to her psych classes in college.

“I’m sorry,” she managed after a few deeply uncomfortable moments of silence. “I’m trying, I promise, but I understand if . . . you know. Whatever.” (She still hated saying it, especially now that it seemed like it might not happen. Breaking up with David was hard enough without having to say it.)

He put his arm around her shoulders, tugging her into his side and kissing her temple. “Thank you for telling me, Gwen.”

“You’re not mad?”

She felt him shake his head as she rested hers on his shoulder, scooting down to make up for their (lack of) height difference. “I wasn’t really mad when I came back this morning,” he said, “even before I saw everything you’d made. I had some time to cool down, and I . . . started thinking, I guess.”

Gwen wanted to look up at him, but she wanted to soak in his warmth more so she nuzzled into the curve of his neck, inhaling the smells of floral detergent and piney-woodsy cologne left over from the day before. “About what?” she asked, like there could possibly be more than one answer. Like maybe he’d been pondering the sociopolitics of Malaysia or something.

He let out a little huff of laughter, and she knew without looking that he’d glanced up at the ceiling in a slow blink (that he insisted was less rude than rolling his eyes outright, even though it was just as obvious). “You. Everything that’s happened this summer — and before it.” His shoulder shifted slightly under her cheek, a shrug aborted halfway through so she’d be comfortable. “Things started making more sense after everything we talked about tonight. Like the day we . . . well, when you told me about that gentleman you . . . almost took home.”

“He wasn’t a gentleman, he was a douchebag,” she interrupted, immediately feeling like an asshole. But David chuckled and squeezed her closer, like he enjoyed her company even when she was being annoying (which he did; somehow he actually did) and she let herself relax against his side, believe that maybe things were going to be okay after all.

“I’ve thought about the stuff you said a lot since that day. Mostly the parts that made me feel the worst.”

She flinched. “I’m so sorry —” she began, but he cut her off with a kiss to her forehead.

“I have trouble with . . . rejection,” he continued, sounding embarrassed. Like that minor character flaw even came close to the millions of ways she was fucked up. “I — I guess you could call it ‘abandonment issues’? But at first, and for a while, all I could hear were the ways you didn’t . . . seem to want me around anymore.”

“But I did —”

“I know.” Another soft kiss, and she wasn’t sure if it was to reassure her or himself. “I know that now. And I think, knowing that . . . it made what you said sound different.

“You were drunk — I know, you downplayed it, and it wouldn’t have excused . . . but your judgment was still impaired. And you didn’t kiss him. Thinking back, it didn’t even sound like you really wanted to. Did you?” She shook her head, not willing to look up at him because no matter how gently he tried to frame this she still felt like it was her fault. “And I just couldn’t stop thinking, how if this had happened a few years ago you would’ve told that story so much differently. If we were still just friends, maybe. You would’ve stormed into the cabin raging about how some jerk had ‘put his mitts all over you’ —”

Gwen couldn’t help it; she burst out laughing, pushing away from him and resting her head in her hands. “That can’t be how you think I talk!”

“It was an edited version,” he admitted, flushing. His smile was wide enough to illuminate the room, catching and refracting the dreary dawn light. “Please come back?”

She snuggled into his outstretched arms, her heart panging at the plaintive note in his voice. She wrapped herself around him, legs entangled with his and arms squeezing his waist; she’d missed him just as much. “Your impression of me is really bad,” she said with an uncontrollable giggle that made her feel like she was fourteen.

“I’ll work on it.” For a moment he just held her, soaking in the relief of being together and being okay. (At least, that's what she was doing.) “Why did it bother you so much?” he asked after a minute or so. “It doesn’t . . . well, it just doesn’t sound like you did anything wrong.”

“I guess — yeah, maybe not, technically anyway. But you’d just visited and saw how terrible my life is, and I was having an even harder time being a less-shitty version of myself . . .” He made a soft noise, almost pained, and pulled her closer. “So when this asshole showed up and was, like, exactly the type of guy I usually go for, it felt like . . . I don’t know. Like the universe was telling me we didn’t belong together. That sounds stupid. Never mind.” She pressed her face against his chest with an embarrassed groan. “Pretend I said something that doesn’t make me sound like I write horoscopes for a living.”

“I like horoscopes!” he replied, because of course he did. After a moment he added, “Thank you for telling me. It . . . helps confirm some things I was thinking earlier, when I left. Because what you said, and what you’ve been saying for a long time . . . I’ve been hearing it the way that’d hurt me the most, but I think you meant it to make me hate you.” He paused for a second, then added, “Do you think I’m right?”

Gwen shrugged, feeling more than a little like one of his campers receiving an aggressively pacifist talking-to. “Yeah. I don’t . . . like myself all that much.”

“I’ve noticed.” And David pressed another kiss to the top of her head, like he was rewarding her for being honest. Or like he just couldn’t help himself. “You haven’t treated me very well lately, Gwen. And I was — am very unhappy about that. But I don’t think it holds a candle to how you treat yourself.”

She wriggled away enough to sit up and look at him, frowning. “So you’re, what? Willing to come back to a shitty relationship because you feel sorrier for me than for you?” she demanded, even though it would’ve been smarter to just not say anything and enjoy his pity while she still had it.

But again, she said she’d be honest. And the true Gwen was kind of a bitch.

His smile turned sad, and he carefully tucked a flyaway hair behind her ear. “See, that’s what I mean. You never give yourself the benefit of the doubt.” When she frowned, not understanding, he took her hand and began playing with it, wiggling her fingers and twining them with his. “I understand better, now. How you’re feeling and what you’re thinking. And I’m not going to let you treat me like I’m a kid, or — or stupid, or whatever. I know you don’t really think that,” he added as she opened her mouth to argue. “There’s a whole cabin’s worth of proof in the living room that you don’t really think that. That’s why I wanna try again. Miscommunications, misunderstandings . . . those are fixable. And now that I know what’s been going through your head, I don’t think you’ve done anything I can’t forgive.”

Her eyes filled with tears — again, and she was going to die of dehydration if she didn’t get ahold of herself — but this time she couldn’t resent them too much, not when it felt like she was brimming over with hope that was eager to burst free. “What’re you saying, David?”

He shifted back, turning so he was sitting cross-legged facing her, and took both her hands in his. “I keep . . . trying to find a way to say it,” he admitted, looking down at their twined fingers and flushing pink, “because ‘do you want to be my girlfriend again?’ is maybe too middle-school, but ‘dating’ sounds too casual, and —”

Gwen pulled out of his grasp and closed the distance between them, straddling his lap and taking his chin in one hand. His face lifted toward her before his eyes did, darting from her chest to over her shoulder before finally meeting her gaze. She wound her free arm around his shoulders, sliding her fingers into the short, soft hair at the nape of his neck. With the hand cupping his jaw she gently swiped her thumb across his lower lip, slightly chapped but still warm and softer than it looked, each breath skating across her skin feather-light and making her skin prickle. “Yeah,” she said, closing her eyes and pressing her forehead to his, holding back a laugh — or maybe a sob, she wasn’t quite sure; the emotions roiling inside her were too much to separate between happy and sad. “Whatever you’re asking, yes, I want it.”

She felt his smile spread under her thumb before he brushed her hand away, tilting his head so he could kiss her. “Good,” he murmured with a breathless chuckle, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her closer. “I mean, I was pretty sure you’d say that, but still — that’s a relief.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “You idiot.” Her blood turned to ice, and she pulled away from him, stricken. For fuck’s sake, couldn’t she be anything but herself for five minutes? “I didn’t mean — !”

David smiled, far more fondly than she deserved. “I know, Gwen.”

Groaning, she buried her face in his shoulder. “I’m trying, really I am.”

“Don’t.” He put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her back until she was upright, looking down at him again. “Please don’t try so hard to be what you think I want. Just be you.”

“Right.” She forced her shoulders to relax, tilting her head back and rolling her neck until it cracked. “I’m . . . gonna have a hard time with that. ‘Just me’ is kind of the worst.”

“I know you think that,” he said, pressing his half-open mouth to the hollow of her collarbone and making her shiver. “And I’ll keep reminding you until you don’t think it anymore.”

She managed a weak chuckle, leaning into his lips as he moved up her neck. “Good luck with that.”

His answering laugh rolled over her skin, warm and teasing. “Haven’t you heard, Gwen? I like projects.”

Jesus. Grabbing a fistful of his hair, she tugged him upright, taking a moment to appreciate his gasp that wasn’t just surprise. “I love you,” she said, loosening her grip and kissing his forehead, petting away the furrows her fingers left in his fluffy red hair.

His expression softened. “I love —” he began, and Gwen tightened her hold on his hair and pulled back, just so she could watch his eyes flutter shut and his breath catch, “— y-you too.”

Dragging her palm down the side of his neck, she settled her thumb on his throat, feeling his pulse flutter rapidly, and bent to kiss him again. She hadn’t necessarily meant to turn it into anything, just wanted to feel his lips against hers, but her fingers tightened involuntarily in his hair and he moaned, and it was a lit match dropped down her throat to a stomach full of gasoline, a whoosh of heat blazing to life in the pit of her belly. “David,” she breathed, not so much because she had anything to say but because she needed to say it, to roll the sound of his name around in her mouth, let it melt like chocolate on her tongue and infuse her whole body with sweetness.

“Gwen,” he said, and she thought he was doing the same thing, saying her name just because he could, but then his hands were on her shoulders and he was pushing her away, gentle but firm. “Gwen, wait, we should — talk about this —”

“Oh, shit, yeah. Okay. Sorry.” She sat back, her face warming. But as she settled her weight more firmly in his lap he jolted; and if she’d thought she was embarrassed it was nothing to the way his already-flushed cheeks flamed pink, spreading in blotches up to his hairline and the tips of his ears, down to disappear underneath his bandana. He stammered out an apology, avoiding her eyes even as his cock twitched, like bashfulness could disguise how hard he was against her. She quickly rose back up — the last thing she wanted was to make him feel ashamed, or pressured; everything between them was as tremulous and new as the first time — but realized almost instantly when David squeaked that this just shoved her chest in his face.

She hovered there for an awkward second, the two of them staring at each other in mortified horror. Then his whole expression wavered, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth before quickly flattening into a thin line, and the break in his composure took hers out too. She snorted, and they both burst out laughing. “I’ll just sit over here,” she said through giggles, rolling off his lap and settling on the other side of the bed with her feet curled under her so they were no longer touching. He made a small sad sound like a squeeze toy deflating, and Gwen rolled her eyes and stretched out one leg until her foot brushed his knee. “Here, hold my foot if you’re that lonely. It’s practically holding hands.”

His eyes widened, hands closing around her ankle and setting it on his thigh with something like reverence. “Thank you,” he murmured, gently tracing the outline of her foot with his fingertips. “That was very sweet, you know.”

God, she was blushing, wasn’t she? She had to be. “Yeah,” she agreed, trying to ignore the ticklish feeling as he kept playing with her foot like it was a toy doll. “Felt weird, too. I kinda wanted to insult you or something, just to balance it out.”

He smiled, wiggling her big toe like he was playing that little piggies game she used to do with her nieces when they were babies. “That’s my Gwen.” And he sounded pleased, almost proud, like she’d done something wonderful.

But that was David; even though sometimes he was completely oblivious, sometimes he noticed and appreciated the tiniest, most inconsequential things. That’s my David, she thought, her heart swelling like it was going to burst. “You wanted to talk about something?” she reminded him, waggling her toes to get his attention.

“Oh! Right.” He gently took her foot and set it on the bed next to him, grabbing a pillow and hugging it to his chest. “Sorry, I was getting distracted, and that was the whole point of you moving over there.” (He said it with a pout, like she’d gone to Spain instead of just out of arms’ reach.)

“I thought the whole point of me moving over here was so you could cool down, tiger,” she teased. But when he didn’t respond except to flush darker, his gaze firmly on a fraying edge of the pillowcase in his arms, something weird and hilarious clicked in her head. “Oh my god, are you into feet?”

“No!” He lifted his head to give her a tragically betrayed expression. “Not a weird amount!”

She grinned, poking his thigh with her outstretched foot. “What’s a weird amount?” she asked.

He shrugged, not quite able to maintain the kicked-puppy look when a smile kept trying to break through. “I don’t know. Watching people in heels step on fruit. I don’t like that sort of thing, I’ll have you know,” he added defensively, and for a second Gwen was sure he’d stick his tongue out at her.

“Sure, but you’re into them enough to know those videos exist.”

“I think I’d like to go back to you being nice to me,” he muttered, and she felt a stab of panic before he gently patted her ankle and met her gaze with a slight smile. Like he knew what she was thinking.

So she shoved past her nervousness and said, “But I thought you wanted me to be myself. And as myself, I can’t believe you never told me you were a foot guy!”

“I’m a you guy. And . . . you know. All of you. You’re perfect.”

“Yeah, but the feet are a thing, huh? At least a little bit.” When he didn’t answer she laughed, shaking her head. “So do you, like, want a footjob or something?”

“I really don’t.”

“How have we been dating this long and I didn’t know about this? What other freaky sex things are you hiding?”

“Nothing!” he said, hugging the pillow tighter. After a moment he looked away and added, “I didn’t want you to think I was weird.”

“David.” She leaned forward, waiting for him to look at her and see in her expression just how ridiculous that was. “You can’t get weirder than I am. You know that.” When the color in his face receded just a little bit, and his eyes flicked back toward her hopefully, she sighed and attempted to dredge up one of the strangest kinks in her vast library. “I’d totally fuck Drogon.”

He frowned thoughtfully. “From Game of Thrones? So would I- Iiiiiii mean, s-so would most people.”

“No, not Khal Drogo, Drogon. The dragon. Not like a humanized version, either — just full lizard.”

“Oh.” He smiled a little, almost a smirk, and Gwen felt distinctly, lovingly judged. “That does make me feel better. Thank you.”

“No problem. And tomorrow I’m gonna go into town and get a pedicure, just for you.” She wiggled her toes at him, grinning. “I’m thinking something slutty, like hot pink.”

“Gwen!” He shoved her foot away, laughing. “I was trying to have a serious conversation before you started talking about — about slutty toes and dragons!”

She cracked up too, falling over onto her side and nearly toppling off the bed. “Slutty toes,” she repeated breathlessly, and it took a few minutes to recover; every time they tried to make eye contact they burst out laughing again.

“Okay, okay.” Gwen finally sat back up, trying in vain to smooth her hair out of its mass of tangled bedhead. “I’m sorry, you were trying to say something serious. What’s up?”

“Right.” He took a deep breath, fingers knotting in her blankets until his knuckles were white. “It’s just . . . it was starting to seem like we were going to — um, you know. Be intimate.”

She resisted the urge to tease him for his word choice. “I was open to it, yeah.”

“M-me too! That’s why . . . well. Okay.” He took a deep breath, dragging his hands down his face, and Gwen noticed for the first time how tired he looked.

“Hey, we don’t have to do anything,” she said, shifting closer so she could put her hand on his shoulder. “You know that, right?”

He nodded, patting her hand before brushing it away so she didn’t feel rejected, and once again she felt a rush of love so intense it almost brought tears to her eyes. He could be so simply, effortlessly kind, without even thinking about it. “I do. At least, I think I do. I- I mean, I know I do, but it’s hard to . . .” He waved his hand around his head like his thoughts were scattering birds.

“The night before we . . . well. Ended things.” He flinched at his own words, and she felt the same pain flicker over the surface of her heart.

It’s okay, she reminded herself, wishing she could sweep him up in her arms and block out all the bad memories she’d put there. It still hurts, but we’re going to be okay.

Like he’d been thinking the same thing, David stretched out his hand to find hers, squeezing her fingers. “I said I didn’t want to,” he continued in a rush, “you know. Be together like that. And you . . . seemed to get mad — at me. And then the next day you broke up with me.” He squeezed his eyes shut, taking a shuddering breath that had tears behind it, and she tightened her grip on his hand. “It’s okay,” he said, opening his eyes and giving her a slightly-watery smile. “I’m okay. But I just need to know . . .”

“God, no,” she jumped in, taking up the thread of his question as it trailed off into nothingness. “David, no, it had nothing to do with — I freaked out, but I was already — I mean, I was gonna fall apart over anything, it didn’t have to be that. You didn’t do anything wrong, I promise.” She couldn’t stand it anymore, so she pulled his hand to her lips, kissing his knuckles because she wanted to respect his need for space but she had to touch him or she was going to die.

He swallowed, watching their joined hands for a moment before looking away. “You — that really hurt me, Gwen. I just needed to tell you that.”

All the anger he’d thrown at her in the past several hours, all the pain and frustration, and it was those small, matter-of-fact words that slashed her heart in two. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

She hated apologizing — it always felt weak, or dangerous, or something. Like it was an opening for someone to hate her even more, like she was handing them a weapon to hold over her head for the rest of her life. (It was why she hated receiving them, too; she could be spiteful and vindictive as anyone, but it was uncomfortable watching someone flay themselves in front of her.)

But with David . . . it didn’t feel like she was giving him leverage when she told him she was sorry. She wasn’t scared he’d hold onto it and throw it back in her face someday. She wasn’t resentful of him, and she wasn’t worried about how he’d react.

She wasn’t anything but truly, genuinely sorry.

And he didn’t brush it aside, act like she had no reason to apologize the way she’d half-expected. Either she hadn’t been giving him enough credit, or he’d grown up while she wasn’t paying attention. Maybe a little of both. But whatever the cause, he just stroked her cheek with the backs of his knuckles and nodded, a ghost of his smile returning for a second. “It’s okay,” he said, looking at her like she was — god, like he loved her. “Hearing it helps.”

She wasn’t sure if he needed more than that, but she wasn’t going to let a single doubt linger in his mind. “Seriously, David, you can — I won’t ever be mad at you for saying no, ever. For any reason, or no reason or . . . whatever. It’s okay. It’ll always be okay.”

“I — um, I had a reason.” He spoke fast, his eyes wide like he’d surprised himself. Still, he pressed his lips together into a flat line and met her gaze, clearly nervous but just as clearly not intending to end the conversation until they’d said everything they needed to. He was so brave. “I should’ve mentioned it at the time, but I guess I was scared.”

Gwen snorted, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, I can relate to that.”

He rewarded her with a small, soft smile before continuing, “The thing is, everything had just been so gosh-darned strange between us, and it felt like you were avoiding me all the time — except when we were together like that.” He scratched the back of his neck, looking embarrassed. “It sounds silly, but I couldn’t help but worry that maybe that was . . . all you were interested in me for.”

Her stomach sank. “And then when you said no, and I freaked . . .”

David nodded, his throat moving as he swallowed again. “Yeah,” he murmured, looking away. “It — it sure felt like you only wanted me for that one thing, all of a sudden, and when you couldn’t get it . . .”

“I dumped you,” she finished, covering her mouth in horror. “Oh, David.”

“I was a little nervous to tell you to stop.” He pulled his hands from hers so he could fidget, twisting his long fingers together. “Earlier — just now. A minute ago. So we could talk. I — I know it wasn’t fair, but I couldn’t stop thinking you might get mad at me again.”

“I wasn’t mad,” she replied, her hands shaking with how badly she wanted to hug him. (And god, what a change from their normal paradigm, that she was the one who had to hold herself back from a hug.) “I mean, I was, but never at you. I was mad at me, for screwing things up. I — you’re right, I was avoiding you, or avoiding talking to you, I guess. Because I didn’t know how to talk to you, how to act so you wouldn’t find out that I’m . . .” Her throat closed, thick and gummy with tears, and she took a deep breath and swallowed them back. “Rotten,” she finished, which was a stupid, melodramatic word but it felt right; it described the way she still felt despite everything, squishy and overripe and putrid. “It was getting harder to hide, once we were together all the time. And when we were fucking —” She couldn’t tiptoe around the words like David, not when she could just say it and watch him flush red. Even her rotted heart skipped a beat whenever he smiled. “It felt like I didn’t have to try so hard. I couldn’t be amazing, but I could make you feel amazing. And if I could do that . . .” She sniffed, looking away and wiping her face clean. “I thought I was letting you know how much you mean to me,” she admitted, the realization coming right on the heels of the words. “I mean, obviously I wasn’t — add that to the list of things I suck at — but when you didn’t want to have sex, it . . . I took it really hard.”

Her face was turned away, so his hand on her shoulder made her jump. “It felt like I was rejecting the only thing you had to offer,” he guessed, his voice soft and sad but no longer on the verge of tears. “Gwen . . .”

“It’s fine,” she said, shaking her head like she could rattle her self-pity out of her head. “That was just me being stupid, I know that. More importantly — seriously.” She looked back at him, at his beautiful open face, at the way he was watching her like she could possibly have something to say that mattered. “It’s never been about sex with you, David,” she said. Felt the encroaching tears yet again and decided to ignore them. If they came, they came; they weren’t going to stop her, because it was the most essential thing in the world that he knew, that he believed her. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, the sex is really good —” He chuckled, blushing exactly the way she’d hoped he would, and it gave her a little glowing spark of strength, “— but it doesn’t even come close to being what I love most about you. None of that stuff —” She gestured toward her bedroom door, and the mess of crafts cluttering their common room. “— comes close. It’s — everything, a billion other things I don’t know how to explain or describe or show you but I love you, so much, more than I’ve ever loved anyone and it scares me, and — I’m rambling. Sorry.” She shrank back, feeling like an idiot again. “I just wanted you to know that. It . . . we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, ever, and I’ll never be mad at you, or disappointed, or anything like that.”

“Thank you, Gwen.” He was quiet for a minute, and she felt the tension ratcheting up in her shoulders with each long, spiraling second. Part of her wanted to snap at him to just say something, finish the damn thought before he gave her a heart attack, but that was her anxiety and regret talking, and she never wanted to take her own issues out on him ever again.

(She probably would, considering what a mess she was. But she sure as hell wasn’t going to do it on purpose.)

“You’re right, though.” David’s voice was a surprise, as was the soft laugh accompanying his words. He was sitting with his head tilted back against the wall, looking up at the ceiling like he could see through it to the fading stars and brightening sky. His gaze dropped to meet hers, and he immediately looked down and away, biting his lip to try and hide a smile. “We are pretty darn great together.”

A massive weight dropped from Gwen’s chest, rolling away like a stone. “Yeah,” she agreed. Then, to test the waters: “I taught you well.”

It worked; he turned back toward her, his shyness replaced with half-serious indignation. “I like to think some of it was natural talent!”

“Ehh,” she teased, holding her hand out flat and seesawing it back and forth in a “so-so” motion. “Pretty sure enthusiasm was doing most of the heavy lifting in the beginning there.”

He crossed his arms over his chest with a disbelieving scoff. “Well, I never!”

She pressed her lips together to keep from giggling. What a dork. “Y’know, I should say we were insanely good. But I dunno, for all I know you’ve totally lost it.” Shaking her head mournfully, she quickly glanced over to make sure he wasn’t actually offended.

His mouth dropped open, his eyes growing wide before narrowing. “I haven’t lost anything!” he snapped, and — oh, the playful irritation in his voice made her stomach twist. Not in the awful sick way she’d been tied up in knots earlier, but with a flush of heat that took her breath away.

Managing a smirk, she laid back on her elbows, a warm glow of satisfaction blooming in her chest as his gaze dropped to her stomach, to the narrow strip of skin where her camisole had ridden up. She waited until he dragged his eyes back up to her, dark and intense like the ocean in a storm, then grinned at him.

“Wanna bet?”

His face lit up — or, not quite. Because his smile was bright and warm as sunshine, but underneath the tenderness was a sharp competitive edge that he almost never turned on her. It was almost intimidating, but the shiver it sent down her spine had nothing to do with fear. “Always,” he replied.

Before she could respond he’d pushed himself to his knees and grabbed her just above her calves; a quick tug forward and Gwen was pulled flat on her back, dragged down the bed until her body was sprawled out beneath him. He let go of her, bracing his hands on either side of her head and bending down to capture her mouth in a kiss.

She curled one hand around the back of his neck and pulled him closer, bending her knees so he was caged between her legs and arching her back to bring as much of her skin against his as possible. He was warm, almost uncomfortably so — her furnace, her own personal sun, and she wanted nothing more than to melt into him. When he abandoned her mouth in favor of trailing long, suckling kisses down her neck she pressed her lips together, biting hard on the inside of her cheek to keep from making a sound.

“You could’ve —” A gasp, too sudden for her to swallow it back, and she felt David’s satisfied smirk against the base of her throat as he bit down again. “— given me a concussion, you asshole.”

He hummed in assent, his lips skating up to her ear and his tongue lapping at the sensitive spot just behind it. “I know,” he said mildly, “but I didn’t.”

He gently took her earlobe between his teeth, and she couldn’t help the strangled noise that was somewhere between a moan and a sigh. Grabbing his hair again, she dragged his mouth back for another kiss, enjoying the shudder that rolled down his spine and made him tremble everywhere his body was touching hers. For a few dizzying minutes she held him there, barely allowing either of them to draw breath. His mouth was blood-hot, warmer than even her fevered skin, and she didn’t know exactly where she wanted it because she wanted it everywhere — against hers, his tongue lapping at the roof of her mouth and making her shiver; around one of her nipples, his teeth catching on the pebbled skin; sucking bruises into her inner thighs, closing around her clit, dipping inside her cunt, her asshole, along the sensitive strip of skin between the two. She wanted him to kiss her places that weren’t even close to erotic but she knew would burst into flame if he so much as brushed his lips over them: the bone jutting out from her ankle, the ticklish spot inside her elbow, wherever the fuck he wanted to press the gorgeous wet heat of his mouth she wanted to let him, because from the very first kiss he’d been good, better than he’d had any right to be but time and experience had worked their magic and now his mouth could ruin her; without even trying he could reduce her to twitching, shuddering goo.

“Take this off,” she gasped, not sure if she meant her clothes or his because she was wriggling out from under him and trying to remove both at the same time, her fingers clumsy and shaking with how badly she needed to touch him without any fabric in the way. She struggled to her knees, practically yanking her camisole off and throwing it across the room before hooking her fingers in his belt loops and dragging him close enough for her to undo the buckle. “Come on —”

“So I won?” He laughed breathlessly, untucking his shirt and pulling it over his head in one fluid motion, smugness making him unfairly graceful like he was trying to show off.

“Sure, whatever,” she muttered, because who cared about some bet when he was kneeling half-naked in front of her? They’d had silly, jokey sex but that was not this, not when he was so beautiful she was having trouble looking directly at him, hair mussed and lips damp and swollen and pink blooming in blotches under the light constellations of freckles across his skin. He looked debauched, flushed and obscene even with half his clothes still on, and there wasn’t room in her brain for humor when all she could feel was clawing shaking need. She dropped onto all fours, leaning down to trace the hard outline of his cock with her tongue, and even through his shorts he was burning warm. He sucked in a sharp breath, his pulse spiking under her mouth, and Gwen couldn’t resist closing her lips around the shape of his erection, breathing in the salty-ammonia smell of precome and feeling her mouth water. “David,” she began, but there was no end to that sentence so she lifted her head slightly, bit the delicate ridge of his hipbone where it peeked out from the waist of his shorts, caught him as his hips stuttered forward. She kept him steady, one hand splayed across his lower back, as she rose to her knees without lifting her mouth from his skin: over the barely-there softness of his stomach (no werewolf six-pack here, despite his lean strength), tongue swirling among the faint red hair below his belly button, following the curve of his ribs, just barely brushing one nipple — he made a small, strung-out noise in the back of his throat, almost despairing as she moved on up to his neck — until she found his lips again, dragging him into a bruising, breathless kiss.

When she pulled away David’s smile was gone, drawn out of his mouth and leaving him panting. “Okay,” he murmured, soft and almost reverent, but before she could figure out what specifically was okay he hauled her forward like she weighed nothing, capturing her lips for a second before trailing down her throat, pausing at a sensitive place above her pulse point and biting down hard, sucking the skin between his teeth.

Pain bloomed under his mouth, rippling out into shockwaves of cold-hot pleasure, and when he bit her again she couldn’t hold back a moan. “You’re gonna — leave a mark,” she gasped, gently shoving his head away and running her fingers over the damp skin. It was already tender, and judging by David’s expression, contrite and amused and darkly heated, it was going to be a hell of a hickey. “I can’t hide this!”

“I’m sorry!” he tried, but it wasn’t close to convincing when he couldn’t hide his grin. His eyes drifted down to the mark again and he licked his lips, expression growing dazed for a moment before he snapped back up to look at her face. “I can make you a bandana, if you want. Just until it fades.”

“Fucker.” Gwen laughed, not so much because it was funny but because it was him, and she loved him more than she could possibly stand. Tired of the overheated, confining clothes she was still wearing, she shimmied out of them, tossing her pajama shorts and half-soaked underwear without bothering to see where they landed. “Come here,” she said, pressing her legs together and shivering at the wet slide of her inner thighs and labia, a thousand nerve endings sparking to glistening life. “You can make it up to me.”

She swore she could almost see his mouth water, his gaze dropping between her legs as he took a deep breath and swallowed hard. “Yes, ma’am,” he said — and they’d never tried that before, but judging by the way his cock twitched and his eyes jumped sheepishly to hers, it was something he’d thought about a lot. Filing the information away for later, she held out her hand and pulled him closer when he took it, resting her forehead against his. It took just the slightest shift in the angle of her head to kiss him again so she did it without thinking, her hand sliding between their bodies to curl loosely around the outline of his erection.

He gasped shakily against her mouth, his hands fluttering up and down her waist like he couldn’t decide where to touch her. One of them dropped to her ass, a light, almost hesitant touch, and she rewarded it with a soft groan; he made a weak noise in the back of his throat and pulled her closer, kneading her ass before slipping lower, between her legs. The heel of his hand brushed teasingly against her clit as he pressed two fingers into her, and she mimicked his pace, gliding her palm down the length of his clothed cock and relishing the way his fingers twitched against her inner walls.

He fingered her like that, slow and steady, for — she didn’t know how long. Lost track of the strokes that sent warmly buzzing tendrils up her spine, lost count of the breaths gasped raggedly between their lips, of the kisses that melted into one another until she wasn’t entirely sure where she was, she was hyper aware of the heartbeat pounding in her clit and every too-gentle drag of his hand but numb to literally everything else that wasn’t right here, wasn’t David —

“Fuck,” she breathed, pressing her forehead against his shoulder with a shuddering sigh. She turned her head and lapped at his throat, sucking his skin into her mouth and biting down hard enough to make his fingers jolt inside her, pressing against her g-spot for one delicious moment. “God, I -- please, David, just make me come, please --”

Another shiver, another twitch of his fingers that took her breath away. “Okay,” he said, his voice strangled and hoarse. He pulled out of her and sat back on his heels. “Lay down, all right?”

Yes, yes, whatever he was thinking was 100% all right with her. She almost kneed him as she scrambled into position, but her embarrassed giggle evaporated as he lowered himself onto his elbows, scooching her up the bed like she weighed nothing and settling between her legs. Alarm cut through her arousal, her mind immediately trying to calculate the last time she’d showered, let alone shaved --

His eyes flicked up to hers, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I know,” he replied before she’d even opened her mouth. “I promise, I really want to.”

Oh, god. She covered her face to muffle a squeak, flopping onto her back and looking up at the ceiling. “I’m that predictable, huh?”

David hummed thoughtfully, the sound vibrating up the inside of her thigh. “Only with some things. Other times you surprise me quite a bit.”

“Yeah?” He kissed the top of her mound, his tongue dipping into the V formed by her lips and just brushing her clit — a teasing touch, his mouth moving away even as she lifted her hips instinctively. “I’m surprising?”

“You are,” he said, the camp-counselor cheer in his voice making what he was doing feel even more obscene. He traced the line of her cunt with his mouth before gently fingering her open. “The first time you did this, for example. That surprised me quite a bit!”

“This?” She knew exactly what he meant — her stomach still dipped and swooped at the memory of kneeling on the floor of his shower, the heady rush of confidence and vulnerability she’d felt looking up at him with his cock at her lips — but she tilted her head back with a sigh and breathed, “Pretty sure I’ve never eaten you out before. Not that I wouldn’t be into that, just saying.”

He gasped and spluttered, pulling back to wipe his mouth and staring at her with wide, shocked eyes, then coughed, tapping his chest with his other hand. “Excuse —?!”

When he lowered his head to cough again and take an unsteady breath, Gwen sat up on her elbows, not sure if she should be amused, worried, or mortified. “Oh my god, please tell me you did not just choke on cunt juice!”

David gave her a disgusted look, shaking his head and clearing his throat. “There had to be another way to word that,” he said, as primly as he could while still struggling to catch his breath. “But — um, you didn’t…w-was a joke, or…?”

“I meant it,” she admitted, “but I get it if you don’t want to, don’t feel pressured either way —”

“No — I want to.” He looked startled by his own words, and immediately dropped his gaze, smoothing his palms down her thighs like he could disguise how his fingers trembled. “Sometime. If — if you do.”

Gwen let the awkward silence linger for another moment, not quite sure how to move forward. “Good. That’s…something to put on the to-do list.”

“Y-yes. Okay.” He did meet her eyes then, brightening. “See, you did it again!”

She frowned. “Did what?”

“Surprised me.” He leaned over her body to tug her into a slow, sweet kiss. When she pulled back to breathe he cupped the back of her neck, holding her close and brushing his nose against hers. “You’re an adventure every day, Gwen,” he murmured.

“Yeah, I’m a real goddamn roller coaster,” she grumbled, shifting her hips upward in a blind search for his touch. “And I’d appreciate it if you’d fucking ride me already.”

David laughed softly against her mouth before turning his attention to her jaw, throat, collarbone — a damp, shivery brush of his tongue against her skin moving down her body. “Well goodness, Gwen, now I’m confused.” She both hated and loved the smug, teasing tone he got whenever her composure cracked. “I could make love to you,” he continued, nipping the skin just below her bellybutton and making her jump, “but I thought you wanted me to do this first.”

He closed his lips around her clit and sucked gently, catching her with an arm behind her back as she arched toward the maddening wet heat of his mouth. Lowering her hips back to the bed with infuriating tenderness, he paused, resting his cheek on her inner thigh and looking up the length of her body. When she met his eyes he smiled, pausing to press a chaste kiss to her leg before returning her gaze.

“What do you want, Gwen?” And he asked it untauntingly. Seriously. Like he wanted nothing more than for her to tell him what to do, and like he’d do it without question.

His sincerity was going to be the death of her, she decided with a groan, burying her hands in her hair and shielding her face from his view with her arms. “Fuck. I don’t know. Everything.”

When it came to David, she always wanted everything.

“That’s a real swell coincidence, then!” He traced the seam where her hip and leg met, then dipped down, dragging his fingertips through the wetness smearing her thighs before swiping them up to circle her clitoris. “Because ‘everything’ is exactly what I’d like to give you.”

She barely had time to absorb the statement before his mouth was on her again, sliding the hood back with his lips before swirling his tongue beneath it and around the exposed clit. It was almost too much, too sensitive, bordering on painful and if he stopped she might actually die; she knotted her fingers in the flimsy sheets to keep from pushing his face harder against her, vaguely aware that she was mumbling nonsensical pleas, an incoherent litany of “oh god yes please fuck don’t stop” —

He didn’t. Without lifting his mouth he braced one hand under her knee and pushed it toward her chest, bending her leg and using two fingers of his other hand to enter her. It took him a second but when he found her g-spot he pressed up hard, stroking with the same rapid pace of his flicking tongue. It was more pressure than she was used to, strangely achy but pleasurably so, and it was impossible not to writhe under his touch as the need to come coiled tighter, dragged her higher, kept her suspended on the brink for a frustrating, dizzying, electrifying moment that stretched like a rubber band…

Then it snapped — a dam breaking, a wave cresting and finally letting gravity take over — and she curled forward with a sob of relief, pleasure rippling through her limbs and turning her bones to liquid, trembling through the aftershocks.

The shift from overwhelmingly perfect to just plain overwhelming was a split second. “Nngh, stop, stop —” She pawed weakly at his head, just barely smacking the edge of his fringe with her fingertips, but he lifted his mouth from her with a look of concern. “You’re fine,” she added quickly, struggling to catch her breath and shivering from the buzz of overstimulation, “s’just too much.”

David nodded, relieved, and sat back, wiping his face with the back of his arm. “Wow,” he murmured, eyes wide and awed. “Wowzers. Gwen, have you ever done that before?”

She sat up, frowning. “Come like a train? Like every time we — whoa.”

The sheets between her legs were wet. Not damp, wet like she’d spilled a glass of water (and cooling rapidly, she realized with a grimace, shifting to avoid the blotchy patch). Presumably the same wetness dripping down David’s chin.

“Oh my god.” She groaned, hiding her face in her hands like if she couldn’t see it, it would disappear. Or feel it slicking her inner thighs. “And uh, not really,” she finally muttered, a belated answer to his question. “Once or twice, but you’ve really gotta work over the g-spot to make it happ --” She glanced up just in time to catch his expression, a flash of recognition mixed with pleased sheepishness. “Which you were.” David quickly looked away, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth and flushing pink. “On purpose?”

“I -- I’d read about it, that’s all!” he said, meeting her gaze defensively. “I knew it was, well . . . a thing. That some wom- people can do. And I was -- I’ve seen -- I was curious!” Gwen tried to stifle a laugh and failed, turning it into a choking snort, and he blushed even darker. “I know I should’ve just asked, but I couldn’t figure out how to say . . .”

She waited for him to finish the sentence, but when it became clear he had no intention of doing so, she injected as much demented cheer into her voice as possible and chirped, “‘Golly gee, Gwen, could I try making you squirt sometime?’”

Her imitation of his voice was passable -- she’d spent enough years making fun of him to get good at it -- and though he turned his head away she was positive he rolled his eyes at her. “I don’t know if that counts as bad language or not.”

“Oh no. It’d be so shocking if I said one of the no-no words.”

He chuckled, trying and failing to disguise it as a sigh, and climbed out of bed, tugging the rest of his clothes off. (As he picked up his shirt and wiped his face clean, Gwen quickly bent forward and sniffed the damp spot on the mattress. A little like saline, mostly like nothing. Good to know.)

“So how often do you trawl the internet for sex tips?” she asked, grinning. “Or -- god, tell me you’re not checking out books from the library.”

“Of course not!” He looked horrified at the thought. “And . . . sometimes. More often, after we started dating. I . . .” He paused, looking like he was reconsidering the rest of that sentence, and joined her on the bed to lean back against the headboard. “The time you visited, when I -- used my mouth on you for the first time.” (And what was it about his delicate tiptoeing that made it sound so much more filthy than if he’d said it outright?) “I thought -- or, well, I hoped . . . anyway, I did a little reading. Online, obviously. Just in case.”

So that was how he’d been so goddamn good right off the fucking bat. Always prepared, her boy scout. “Well, I appreciate it,” she said, and sat up, throwing one leg over his lap and draping her arms around his shoulders. “Can I please fuck you now, Mr. Greenwood?”

He sucked in an unsteady breath, his cock twitching up against her; the tip of his head slipped between her outer folds, making them both gasp. “C-condom,” he breathed, his voice raspy and uneven, and she scrambled off his lap before she could give in to the voice in the back of her head insisting they didn’t need to stop and get anything, he was right there , if she’d angled her hips right he could’ve been inside her already --

Her fingers were shaking as she retrieved the foil packet and brought it over, letting him take it with relief. (There was no way she wouldn’t have ripped it, with the way her whole body was trembling like the room had dropped ten degrees.) She watched him roll the latex down his cock, unable to tear her eyes away from how beautifully flushed it was, precome beading at the tip and slicking the inside of the condom.

God, she needed him inside her. Immediately.

David caught her with a breathless laugh as she vaulted back up onto the bed, curling his fingers around her hips and holding her steady. “Careful,” he murmured, and she rolled her eyes, fumbling blindly between her legs to line him up. “Have I- hhha --” He cut off, squeezing his eyes shut with a sigh as the head of his cock pressed into her, “t- told you how beautiful you are?”

Gwen frowned. It was kind of hard to focus on the question when her body was fluttering and pulsing as it adjusted to the welcome intrusion. “A lot?” she guessed, sinking down the last few inches too fast and bottoming out with an electric shock of pain and pleasure. “Fuck.”

“No. Not like that.” He slid one arm between their bodies, parting her folds to see the way she stretched around him. “I -- think you’re so pretty,” he managed, gently tracing her inner labia with his fingertips. “I like your colors. And how we -- um, contrast.”

No one had ever told her that her cunt was pretty before. It was just the kind of stupid, romantic thing David would do. And he was right; his cock looked so pale against her, where she faded from shocking pink into a dark purplish-brown that lightened as it blended into her normal skin tone. There was something about it that reminded her of a sunset -- which was just the kind of stupid, romantic thing David made her think.

“You’re an idiot,” she said, pressing her forehead against his and raising up a few inches, “and I love you so much.”

“I — love you too.” Suddenly he froze, his eyes widening and his grip tightening around her waist, keeping her from moving.

“David? Everything okay?” God, he wasn’t having some kind of terrible flashback, was he? Maybe they shouldn’t be doing this.

His eyes flicked up to hers, and a wide, sunny smile spread across his face like spilled honey. “This is just like the first time.”

It took her a moment to understand what he was talking about, but then it hit her: this was like the night they’d first had sex, from the position to the location to the dizzying, giddy strangeness of it.

God, he was perfect.

“Sort of.” She pressed a hard, quick kiss to his lips before grabbing a fistful of his hair and tugging his head to the side so she could reach his neck; he whimpered and twitched twice, each pulse against her inner walls taking her breath away. “Except I know you way better now.” She punctuated the statement by licking a wide stripe up the side of his throat, then sucked a mark right beside his Adam’s apple, where it’d be safely hidden by his bandana. “All your weak points.”

“I—” He swallowed, tilting his head obediently as she trailed a line of open-mouthed kisses up to his ear, “d-don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She just hummed; that wasn’t worth dignifying with a real response, and the vibrations against his damp skin made him shiver. Instead she toyed with him: tracing the shell of his ear with her tongue, nipping at his earlobe with just a hint of teeth, exploring the delicate area around his ear and neck she knew so well, had staked her claim to a hundred times before.

David’s breathing quickened, roughened, and she had to tighten her grip on his hair to keep him from squirming. Her hips weren’t moving but his were, minute jolts she was positive he couldn’t control. “Gwen,” he gasped, “please, I -- hhit's too much, I can’t --”

“Could you come like this?” she asked, fighting to keep her own voice level. She could feel his pulse pounding in his cock and in his throat, under her lips; her clit throbbed in response, a metronome perfectly attuned to him. “Without me even moving? Or just . . .” She squeezed her internal muscles, clenching around him in a quick staccato pattern, and lapped her tongue against his neck in time.

“Nnno. Or -- yes?” His fingers tightened around her hips, a helpless spasm. “I don’t know. It’d . . . be torture.”

His voice was so low, wrecked, and Gwen’s stomach went into a dizzying, delicious free-fall. “Good,” she said before she could stop herself, think it through and reject it as sounding weird and freaky. David successfully pulled back from her, his eyes wide and blown out with arousal, and he looked so beautiful she couldn’t stop herself from blurting out, “I want to torture you sometime. Nothing you’re not okay with -- and not now, but . . .”

“Yes,” he breathed, and the word was barely out of his mouth before his hand curled around the back of her neck and he was dragging her mouth to his, a kiss made of teeth and desperation with words gasped out against her lips: “yes, god, whatever you want Gwen please I love you --” His other hand slid to cup the curve of her thigh, urge her up onto her knees so he could fuck her properly, pull her back down to set a rhythm that bordered on frantic.

She couldn’t help but laugh, even as she braced her palms against the headboard for better leverage to ride him faster, harder. “Told you,” she teased, biting his lower lip hard enough to drag a breathy whine from him. “Weak.”

That made him moan, drawn-out and broken, and he slipped one hand between their bodies; curling it into a loose fist, he splayed his index and middle fingers just enough for her clit to glide between them, adding an extra jolt of friction every time she moved her hips. Gwen gasped, clutching at his back with one hand as her second orgasm coiled tighter at the base of her spine.

She bit his shoulder because she could, because she had to, because he’d like it and because it was that or scream loud enough to wake the entire camp. “Fuck, god, David --”

He shuddered and buried his face in her hair, his breath hot with a stream of pleasured mumbles beginning and ending in her name --

Gwen didn’t know which of them came first. It didn’t matter, really, because they dragged each other over the edge. His cock was almost painfully hard, unyielding as iron as her muscles tightened and fluttered around it, and the sudden snap upward of his hips as he came nearly knocked her breathless.

She was going to be sore tomorrow. Or . . . later today. She turned her head and mouthed at David’s neck, relishing the sweet-salt taste of his sweat, and let him hold her up as they caught their breath.

“I love you too,” she whispered belatedly. David huffed a weak laugh into her hair, stroking her back with a touch that was light and ticklish. “But we’re sleeping in your room tonight. I don’t wanna deal with the wet spot.”

Yeah, she was going to be sore, and exhausted, and facing a hell of a cleanup both in her bedroom and outside of it.

David groaned and gently pushed her upright, sliding out from under her and taking her hand, like she was a camper who needed to be ushered back to bed. “Phone,” she bleated, weakly reaching for it as they walked past, and he paused to pick it up for her, and in that second she loved him even more, more than she’d ever thought possible.

Worth it.

#campcamp #camp camp roosterteeth #gwenvid #cc gwen #cc david #this ending is too awkward to put in the main tags but fuck it #i spent weeks working on this okay #maybe even months #i am exhausted and cannot look at this anymore #hope y'all like your smut interspersed with pages upon pages of talking #because that's what you're getting #the only reason this isn't a total disaster is raenbows and don't anyone forget it #forestwriting

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not-saying-revolution-but · 3 years ago

Text

on the artistry of Loïc Nottet's "Mr/Mme"

We open to a cobbled, deserted Brussels intersection. The title appears in old-timey yellow against the grayscale. A white-clad Loïc Nottet enters as a piano teases the opening, and it starts.

I have a lot of emotions about "Mr/Mme," the last track on Nottet's second studio album (Sillygomania) and, to my knowledge, his first song fully en français. "Mr/Mme" dropped in April of 2020, which was still near the start of the pandemic in Europe and North America. I, for one, did not anticipate what the next year would hold. And yet when this song appeared in Spotify’s suggestions (as the algorithm knows my weakness for Nottet's vocal range and off-pop sound), it touched a nerve that has pulsed for the last 12 months.

To be clear, I'm not going to present any new revelations about this song. Nottet is indisputably a phenomenal artist, "Mr/Mme" is a perfect example of his skill, and that's that on that. I'm more interested in the raw emotions that this song explores and how the piece indicates a radical departure from Nottet's previous body of work. Or does it?

Born in 1996, Loïc Nottet is a Belgian singer/songwriter/dancer who made a name for himself on The Voice Belgique and ESC 2015. You can look up his Wikipedia page if you like. His first album, "Selfocracy," is entirely in English and handles themes of bullying, selfishness, the corruptibility of society, and related. I don't know what the Belgian and French reviewers said, but the album was fairly well received in the English-speaking places I inhabit. The songs are punchy and get stuck in your head. The lyrics feel clever but maybe a little strained. A Youtube star dropping his first studio album.

And then "Mr/Mme" came out. Nottet greets his audience with a "bonsoir Monsieur, Madame / aujourd'hui, j'te dis tout" (good evening sir, madame / today, I'll tell you everything). He proceeds to do just that. Nottet describes a living hell, a world that "m'étrangle, m'écrase et me brûle" (strangles me, crushes me, and burns me). The ensuing musical monologue swivels from individual anguish to a broader critique of humanity, described as nothing but a bully without love. Those who cannot afford morphine are refused the moon. Children turn into monsters and the rest of us pay rent.

About halfway through the song (which lacks a chorus), Nottet tells the listener how alone he feels while walking the glorious road to fame. He copes by drinking, poking fun at his youth, and grappling in the darkness for any sense of meaning (he's in his 20s after all). Despite living out his childhood dreams, Nottet admits to his own unhappiness.

While Nottet sings all of this, alternating between confessional and belting tones, the camera tracks his wanderings through the streets of Brussels. It looks utterly empty until we see another figure walking past. They look over their shoulder as they pass this strange young man who sings, skips, and spreads his arms in the way of music videos. With a bitter twinge of irony, his oversized white dress shirt has "enjoy yourself" written on the breast pocket.

Nottet takes us down the narrow, shuttered, and graffitied alleyways that spread out from La Grand-Place. He carefully avoids the Baroque square, though, taking rapid turns just when you think you're nearing it. The camera follows in its shaky way. The crowds increase as the song swells, now showing other young people in their sparkling little groups. Nottet breaks through, and everything stops as he sings "je n'sais plus qui je suis, j'suis perdu" (I no longer know who I am, I am lost).

And finally, finally. We reach La Grand-Place, and the lyrics shift. Nottet tells us how he feels when he’s on stage, which is far from the horrific picture he just described:

Car j'écris quand j'me plante

Et je ris quand je danse

Et je vis quand je chante

Et pour tout ça, j'te dis :

Merci

(Because I write when I mess up, and I laugh when I dance, and I live when I sing. And for all of that, I say to you: Thank you.)

Nottet’s figure paints a bright absence on the darkened Grand-Place. The song is officially over but Nottet launches into a series of ethereal "oohs" that transcend this mortal realm. He now shows off his dancing and spreads himself open as the "oohs" reach their highest pitch. Nottet looks like a broken bird, splayed open in La Grand-Place and suspended by his rib cage. The video ends with a few more leg kicks and spins before Nottet wanders out of frame. Everything was done in one take.

So what makes this song and music video so special? Is it not another artsy, indie production about a young singer struggling with fame?

I say to that nay. In "Mr/Mme," Nottet uses his extraordinary voice to access an emotion that is often trivialized. “A young man makes it big and then feels lonely, so what,” we could say. “Life is hard.” This is both true and not. Nottet's struggles are different from most of ours, but he speaks in terms that feel familiar. How many of us realize too late that success isn’t all it’s cracked up to be? "Mr/Mme" holds extremes that more often coexist than contradict in real life, including "humanity is fucked and we should burn everything to the ground" and "there are moments when life is worth living." I know of few other songs that capture both emotions in such a poignant way.

Moreover, the video is carefully done. Directed by Hugo Jouxtel, it seems almost self-conscious about its artsy look. The passersby may be hired extras, I don't know, but they react organically. It's almost embarrassing to see them hastily cross the street and give the singer funny looks. There’s a bit of self-recognition through the other, if you will, particularly if you’ve ever had a breakdown in public (hands, anyone? just me?). It is one thing to sing about feeling alone and quite another to be alone amid the crowds of La Grand-Place. La Grand-Place, a tourist attraction with very few things to do. A place that is good for milling about, snapping a picture, and then hurrying on with your life, oblivious.

Besides the video being aesthetically pleasing, it feels real. Nottet cannot step beyond the gated storefronts as he laments. Sometimes the camera captures an unflattering angle as he tilts up his chin in anguish. It's pretty but gritty. Like the song. Like fame. Like life.

The view from my chair is this: "Mr/Mme" signals a new moment of maturity for an artist who (I am convinced) will one day be known worldwide. It acknowledges the darker threads present in "Selfocracy" (the darkness inside us, the ever-watching “million eyes”) but strips it all down to the bare essentials. The song is honest. And for a popular artist like Nottet, who has already proven himself many times over, honesty might be the rarest thing.

*All translations are from yours truly. Any errors are, of course, my own.

#loïc nottet #mr/mme #n-s-r-b.doc #n-s-r-b.gif #whatever you followed me for i can assume it wasn't this #once upon a time i had a proper blog where this could have gone #it is unfortunately lost to the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune #not to mention the sea of troubles #so tumblr it is!#anyway #i don't usually write on here #but sometimes the spirit moves me #and by the spirit i do indeed mean loic nottet's falsetto #bisous to angelxhunter for beta-ing

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cozycryptidcorner · 4 years ago

Photo

Fiore the Genderfluid Kelpie

Notes: this is a commission from a user who wishes to remain anonymous, about a curly-haired musician meeting her monster match for the first time.

If your roommates weren’t such absolute twats about the noise, then you really wouldn’t have much of a reason to practice your violin in the outdoors like some kind of lonely vagabond. The day is bright, only a few clouds in the sky, but not specifically warm enough to make you melt into the little dirt path. Nor do you feel much strain in your lungs as you hike around the dirt path. It’s the kind of day that hints of summer, with all the warm, soft sunlight of the day without the same, stifling heat that comes in the deeper throes of those months.

Hauling everything- the violin, the stand, and the sheet music should be more complicated than it seems, but you’re so used to it by now that you don’t really notice the effort. All the better, then, because having an explosive argument with your roommate over staying indoors would be more trouble than it’s worth. The smaller university also locks its practice doors during the summer, so you can’t go there.

So, again, outdoors, it is.

Google maps is very helpful for seeing the dirt trail that weaves its way around the nearby lake, though it doesn’t register it as a viable pathway. You have to eyeball it, which is okay, because you think it would be reasonably simple to make your way back to the high rises of the city, as you can see them once you stand on a hill, right on your tiptoes. There’s a gorgeous, large, and ancient weeping willow that google’s satellites have captured, one that’s large enough to provide shade and shelter from any unruly breeze. Already, you spot it on the other side of the water, so you tuck your phone into your pocket and head in that direction.

Setting everything up is easy, the collapsable stand simple enough to build, the ground flat enough to allow it to stay upright. You trap your sheet music to it with clothing pins, just as a precaution despite the breeze isn’t quite strong enough to blow them to kingdom come, and turn on your metronome app on your phone as you set it right next to the paper. Once everything is set up, albeit with your violin still in its case, you allow yourself to go investigate the edge of the lake itself, just for the sake of looking around.

The lake is large, extensive, and a shimmering, crystalline blue. You remember that a few years ago, some environmentalist people in town managed to get a large clean-up production in order, clearing out the trash and filtering the muddied water until it stopped shining with grease. There’s an ancient, dilapidated dock, the old, rotting wood half-submerged in the reeds and water, though you think that the very center might be able to hold your weight.

Wanting only to get a better look at the lake as a whole, you step onto the dock, wincing as it creaks under a portion of your weight, but it seems to take it well enough. Carefully, you place your other foot down, too, then carefully tiptoe over the part of the wood that looks the most stable, getting about halfway down the dock. The lake itself is supposed to be ridiculously deep, there’s a river that provides freshwater from the melting snow on the nearby mountains, so it also must be rather cold.

Funnily enough, as soon as you think that, there is a violent crack sound from beneath your shoes, and you find out for yourself exactly how cold the water really is. It’s freezing, just as expected, a biting, icy feeling running through your nerves, and you barely even have time to shut your mouth tight to avoid getting a mouthful of water. Your arm smarts as it hits a plank wrong, and there’s a snap that you aren’t sure is from the wood or your arm.

You struggle, arms flailing limply as you try to surface. There’s something on your foot, though, it’s somehow pinned or stuck in a stray part of the dock, and you don’t think you even have the air to deal with it. Letting out a breath of bubbles to help ease the tension in your chest, you bend your knee a bit, dragging yourself down further, and try to feel out what you’re stuck in.

Wood, definitely another part of the dock, and it feels like you just punched your foot clean through, right up to your ankle. You wriggle, trying to shimmy your way out, but there seems to be absolutely no way for you to get out without at least dislocating something. Before you can even process true, absolute panic at the thought of drowning, a pair of arms wrapping around your chest and pulls. A shock of pain runs through your leg, and your struggle, harder, jabbing your elbow against something… rubbery, you think.

The water is too murky for you to see beyond the blob figure that swims gracefully down to your ankle. After just a moment, two arms reach forward, snapping the plank with such ease that you wonder why you weren’t able to pop out of it yourself, but suddenly you’re being pulled up again, though this time, you actually feel the air.

You splutter and gasp, your face probably cherry pink with the violent effort your body makes to resupply oxygen. Once you manage to take in a few, choking gasps, you spin around to see your rescuer, a bit taken back when you notice the lack of clothing on her pale, freckled body. She’s slim in frame, not at all looking anywhere near strong enough to be able to snap a slab of wood like it was nothing more than a twig even if it had been rotting in the water for god knows how long.

“Um, thank you,” you say awkwardly, unsure of what else to do, “for helping me, I mean.”

She eyes you up and down, her eyes glittering in the reflection of the sunlight dancing up from the water. There’s something that’s oddly absent from her gaze, like a slab of blankness beneath the blue irises, and you find yourself unconsciously crossing your arms across your chest in a sort of protective gesture of yourself.

“Of course,” she says finally, after a long, awkward pause, “you were drowning.”

The way she says it makes it sound like she wasn’t entirely sure if that was what really was happening or not, so you wonder if maybe she’s teetering on embarrassment? That might explain her strange behavior.

“My foot was stuck, yeah,” you say. “If you hadn’t freed me, I probably would have.”

“Hm,” she nods sagely, as though that were an answer to another unasked question, “you cannot breathe in the water.”

“No, I can’t.” You are suddenly very aware of your wet socks as you shift your weight, the thick layer of silt squishing down and over the soles of your tennis shoes. “That’s the thing about humans, we can’t breathe underwater.”

“Fascinating,” she mulls the idea over, as though she couldn’t possibly relate.

“Um,” you’re trying very hard not to stare at any other part of her body but her face, “yes, so I was here to practice my violin, but um, I didn’t realize that anyone else was here.”

“Practice the violin?” She echoes.

“My instrument,” you gesture vaguely in the direction of where you set up your temporary haven of music, “I was going to practice out here because my roommates get annoyed by the noise. I didn’t realize that someone was out here, though, I thought I’d be alone.”

She waits for you to elaborate, but when you don’t, she suggests, “if you are worried I might mind a little music while I lounge and swim, you should not. I will somehow survive.”

It takes you a moment to process that she must be joking, so you let out a brief laugh. “I’m sorry for crashing your lounging and swimming. Um, do you happen to have a name?”

“Of course,” she says.

When she doesn’t embellish, you ask, “what is it, if you don’t mind me asking?”

She has to think about it for a moment, you can see her eyes fade as she wanders through the depths of her mind to drudge it up. You wonder how long she might have gone without hearing it because the long silence that follows seems a little too meticulous to be her looking for a fake one to give. “Fiore.”

“Fiore?” You shift again, wincing at the feeling of slime absorbing into your shoes still. “That’s a pretty name.”

“Thank you; it is, isn’t it.”

Slowly but steadily, you manage to get yourself out of the muck, kicking off your shoes and socks once you’re free from the reeds. Bare feet on a dirt path, you think, is preferable to the soggy, squishing feeling of muddied and wet shoes, and when you turn around, you don’t spot your savior anywhere. Shrugging that off, you head back over to your little setup, checking over your phone, thankful that you had the foresight to pull it out of your pocket before you took an impromptu dunk in the lake.

Popping your violin case open, you begin on your scales, just as a brief exercise to warm your fingers up before moving onto more complicated pieces. Pressing against the strings, you quickly draw your bow out to make the notes. C major, then minor, then D major, then minor, and so on until you moved halfway through the scales before glancing self-consciously over to where you last saw Fiore, but there isn’t any sign of her slim figure.

Thinking that she might have just left while you were paying attention to your finger’s positions over the strings, you go back to practicing, finishing your scales, and choosing from your bags which piece to begin working on.

You would say that this is the most peaceful practice session that you’ve had since this whole worldwide ugly situation has started. No roommates come banging on your door to tell you to quiet it down, no angry stomping protests from the neighbors in the above apartments. Just you, the violin, and your music, and you find yourself improving somewhat on one of the more difficult passages in a piece that’s had you stuck for a long while.

In fact, it was so productive that you find yourself returning in a few days, spurred on by the annoyance of your roommates. The weather is beautiful enough, a gentle breeze cooling any sort of heat that may become stifling in the warming spring. You repeat the actions from when you were last at the lakeside, setting everything up, leaving your phone on the stand, then move to investigate the shore.

You are looking to see if Fiore is here, you’re not ashamed to admit it, but as you scope out the edge of the lake, you see no one around. Not even a telltale sign of rippling to suggest that someone is swimming just below the surface, so you suppose that she just isn’t around. Which, you assume, might as well be expected, because it’s not like you know her whole schedule of when she actually goes for a swim.

So you start practicing again, going through your scales, then beginning on your regular pieces. As you pause, maybe a half-hour into working, to turn on the metronome on your phone, you notice a head of black hair poking up from the water. Which is weird, because you didn’t see anyone in your periphery arrive, you think you might have given the circumstances, but maybe you were just so sucked into the music that you weren’t paying attention to anything else.

Thinking it must be Fiore, you walk over, popping up on your tiptoes so that you can get a better view of her head, you almost stop in your tracks when you realize that the body swimming in the pond is, in fact, very masculine. And just as naked, but you digress. Face so red you think you might look more like a tomato than human, you take a step back, your foot catching on some root or twisted patch of grass, and you fall hard on your ass.

He’s looking at you promptly, eyes sharp and hauntingly familiar. You’re even more embarrassed, now, because you thought that you might have been able to make a quiet and unnoticed retreat. Instead, you’re looking at the face of someone who seems to be debating on whether or not to eat you alive. At least, that’s what it feels like from his predatory glare.

“I- I’m sorry, I thought you were someone else.” It dawns on you now that he might think that you were trying to get a sneak peek of the goods, and just the thought of gaining the reputation of a peeping tom makes your face heat up even more. “There was like this girl who was here last time I practiced, I mean, I saw her when I was practicing violin, too, and you two actually look a lot alike, so I thought- I, um, thought you were her because of the black hair.”

The man regards you with no small amount of suspicion, eyes narrow.

Nervous, you try to dig yourself out of the hole you’ve made. “I was practicing violin, she seemed to like the music- I mean, I think she did. I’m really sorry to bother you, and I’ll just go back to practicing, sorry.”

As you get up to leave, the man cocks his head. “Your hair.”

Mindlessly, as if spurred on only by the word, you reach up and pluck one of the coils, pulling it down to its full length if it were straight. “Y-yeah?”

“It didn’t do that, not when you were here last. How did you make it crumple up?”

Was he there, and you just didn’t see him? “I- I don’t know what you mean.” You release the strand, and it pops back into place, frowning. “It’s just curly?”

“It was straight when you fell into the water.”

“Oh,” feeling sheepish to have your past mistake thrown out like that by another stranger makes you want to bury yourself, “that’s what happens when my hair gets wet. It stops being curly.”

The man regards you like he’s never even heard of such a thing before. Ignoring the weird feeling in your chest, you approach the water, cupping your fingers together, and bring a fistful of water up to a strand. True to your word, it straightens out almost instantly, and you allow him to stare at you like a bug under a microscope, comparing the now damp strand with the rest of your hair.

“See?” You offer, hoping the pinkness in your face might have died down by the attempts to satiate his own curiosity.

“So it was you,” he says, nodding sagely as if he figured it out on his own.

“Yeah, yup, that was me.” You take a significant step back, wiping your hand on your shirt. “I don’t remember seeing you, though, so you must have been swimming out on the far side.”

There’s an awkward pause, and just when you’re about to turn around and retreat back to your music stand, the man speaks, “You don’t remember me?”

Immediately, you try to go through your recollection of that day to see if you somehow wholly blocked the presence of the man, as well, but you don’t think you did. “Did you introduce yourself?”

He looks almost hurt. “I’m Fiore, I told you.”

Now it’s your turn for your eyes to bug out of your skull, because no, that’s not Fiore. Fiore is… admittedly, the same size as this man, tall, slim, with black hair that does fall past her shoulders, but come on. Come on! There’s no way the two are the same person, at least, you don’t think so, because you could have remembered everything wrong. You couldn’t have, though, because this really isn’t something you can just mix up.

“You’re confused,” probably-not-Fiore observes, which is most likely an elementary observation on his part.

“Yes.” You admit, not wanting to outright refuse to believe that what probably-not-Fiore’s saying is false.

“I see.” There’s a faraway look in his face, open enough to give you the feeling that he’s trying to put some kind of explanation in words. “It’s like your hair.”

“My hair,” you repeat, unsure.

“Your hair changes. My body changes. It’s… the same, but different.” Maybe-Fiore places a hand on his chest and drags it downwards to his stomach. “Sometimes, I feel better in this body. Sometimes I feel better in other bodies.”

“Oh,” you say, because that makes perfect fucking sense, of course, why didn’t you think of that earlier, “right.”

“The humans have a term for that, I think,” Maybe-Fiore places a hand on his chin as he thinks, “another visitor to my lake told me, but I cannot remember it.”

“Oh, you’re not human,” you say, not believing him in the slightest, “I didn’t realize.”

“Did I not mention it,” Fiore says in a tone that suggests that he very well knows that he never uttered a word about his species, “interesting. Anyway, I enjoyed the music you played earlier, and I would like to hear it again.”

“Alright,” you hesitate, though you know that you might as well comply. Slowly, you head back to where you left your stand and pick up your violin. Trying your best to focus, you begin practicing again, starting with scales and arpeggios as you did the last time you were here. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot him, lounging, still very naked, on the outer banks of the lake, clearly enthralled in your music.

You’re not sure if you can be flattered over that or not, but you continue practicing nonetheless. When you’ve put in some time- about an hour or two, according to your phone, you begin breaking down your practice area, collapsing your music stand, and packing away your books. Maybe-Fiore is lying leisurely on the side of the dilapidated dock, eyes only opening once the music has ceased.

Sometimes, I feel better in this body. Sometimes I feel better in other bodies, he has said, and you try to digest what that means, the humans have a term for that, I think.

“Did you mean genderfluid?” You ask suddenly, popping your case shut.

He sits up as you stand, trying to formulate a sentence. “What?”

“You said you sometimes feel comfortable in other bodies, and that there was a word for it. Did you mean genderfluid?” You clarify, trying to adjust the straps of your myriad of bags, so the weight is evenly distributed on your shoulders.

“Yes- that.” He smiles, and there’s a weird feeling swimming in your stomach when you see it. “Sometimes, I feel like a male. Sometimes I feel like a female… and I have the advantage of being able to change.”

“Okay,” you nod, wondering for the first time if he actually is Fiore, if Fiore could simply switch their sexes the moment they felt different. Which… you think is a tad bit out there, because changing one’s shape so instantaneously and thoroughly isn’t physically possible. That you know of, though.

“Will you play closer to the lake next time you come?” Maybe-Fiore says, laying back down against the half-rotted wood, closing his eyes.

“If you’d like,” you say, warming up to the idea. You would be directly under the sun, but a lot of sunscreen and plenty of water might keep you from dying.

“I would like,” he nods firmly, rolling back over into the water.

Trying to not look below his waist, you say your goodbyes, and turn to leave.

The weather is already warming up, as though spring was nothing more than a few-day blip on the calendar. The humidity doesn’t help matters, either, because your hair has decided to do something very unique with itself, poking out in oddly placed tufts that don’t want to conform to any other look but insane person. When you come back to the lake, you have a water bottle filled to the brim with mostly ice to melt and sip on while you practice.

You hear the horse before you see it, the tromping of hooves against the earth, a loud, resounding whinny as it sees you in the middle of its path. It’s an incredibly large, foreboding creature, pale like a ghost, a myriad of speckles dotting its back half. Immediately, adrenaline bursts into your veins, because random, galloping horses are not good news, especially when it seems to be heading right for you.

Just when you’re about to shed your stuff and dodge, the horse makes a sharp turn, kicking up some dirt as it does so. Even though the immediate danger is over, your heart is still quaking in your chest hard enough to feel the aftershocks in your fingertips. You are far too startled to do much other than watch the admittedly majestic creature with a wary eye as it gallops over to the lake, the white spray of water splashing about as it plunges beneath the surface.

All that happened within the span of a few moments, and you are far too surprised at the… the absurdness of it all to do much more than stand there, mouth agape, as you quietly debate the pros and cons of leaving your things so you could run away faster. Before you come to a conclusion, though, you see a head of black hair pop up from the water, and all you can think of is Fiore and a feral horse getting into a tussle that the creature would not lose.

You drop your things and run, but not away from the lake, towards. Wild horses could easily cave someone’s skull in like a mallet to a melon, and you’re not going to just leave when Fiore- whoever they may be- might end up pummeled to death by hooves. While you try to shout- keyword try here- you find that the ungodly speed you’re running at mixed with your panicking lungs, all you can manage is a weak wheeze until you near the edge of the lake.

When you get that close, you see that it is Fiore, her slim, long hair sticking to her skin from the water. You’re just about to run yourself into the mud, but you manage a screeching halt, gasping for air, a drop of sweat rolling down your temple as you manage to choke out, “horse, there’s a horse-”

“Not anymore,” Fiore chirps, completely unaware of your panic.

“What? No,” you bend over, your lungs desperately trying to compensate for the sudden strain, “there was like a huge-ass horse that almost trampled me earlier, it went into the lake- and-” come to think of it, why haven’t you seen it surface for air? Where did it go?

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Fiore steps closer to the shallows, the water only waist-deep on her. “I was just delighted to see you, I may have gotten a little too excited.”

You shake your head, only half processing the nonsense she’s speaking. “Not you, the horse. There’s a horse!”

“Yes,” Fiore sounds like you, almost exasperated that you do not quite understand what’s going on, “I didn’t mean to startle you, I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t startle me, the horse did!”

Fiore looks at you, her eyes narrowed slightly, making you feel like you’re missing a massive, undeniable piece of some puzzle you didn’t know you were playing. “And I said I was sorry, sweet thing.”

Even though a shiver runs through your back when she calls you that- sweet thing- you have to be misunderstanding something significant here because... is Fiore insinuating that she can turn into a horse? You are going to faceplant onto the ground if the answer is yes. “Fiore.”

“Yes.”

“So, you were a horse just a few minutes ago.”

“Yes?” She sounds almost relieved that you finally understand what’s happening. Like back and forth was exhausting, and she could not understand why you didn’t.

“Ha.” You’re going insane. Or maybe Fiore was trying to pull a fast one, a long drawn out fast one, and this is all some kind of elaborate hoax to mock the girl who hikes half a mile just to play the violin. “No.”

“Ha, yes,” Fiore counters, almost impatiently.

“But-”

“What makes it so difficult to understand?”

You feel like your brain is going to explode. “Um… I need to go fetch my violin.”

She brightens somewhat. “Don’t forget that I want you playing closer this time.”

“R-right.”

Surely you’re teetering on the very edge of sanity because that conversation did not just happen. Slowly, you gather your things, trying to mull the conversation over in your head. Fiore- the woman, the man, the horse, this can’t be happening. But you can’t come up with any sort of more logical explanation, especially since any other alternative seems far wilder than the simplicity of shapeshifter. So as you begin to put everything together to play, you ask, almost timidly, “what are you?”

“What do you mean?” She’s sitting out of the water, naked, only a few arm’s lengths away.

“I mean,” your fingers are shaking too much to actually play, so you pretend to tweak at the strings of the violin to tune it, even though you don’t have the means to properly do so, “if you can change like that, and you even said that you aren’t human, what are you?”

There’s another faraway look in Fiore’s eyes, the same as when you first asked for her name. Like she has to struggle to remember, as though she hasn’t had to explain her existence in a long while. “Your people have many different names for mine,” she says, reminiscing, “but I suppose that you might know the word ‘kelpie,’ hm?”

You are not going to be scared, not yet. Trying to keep your voice calm, you ask, “like the man-eating horse creature?”

Fiore, to her credit, seems to find that description funny, of all things. “I haven’t tasted man in so long, but I can’t say that I find it particularly delicious. I prefer those creatures with the horns, what are they called... cattle.”

At least she doesn’t seem to favor the taste human, so you force your body to relax a little. “And you live in the lake?”

“For as long as this village has existed.” She closes her eyes, you can see a timeline play in her mind. “Though, not so much a little vagabond grouping anymore.”

You think of the high rising skyline and let out a little snort, unbidden, “you can say that again. Have you visited the city square recently?”

“I’ve never visited the square,” she leans back on her elbows, staring up at the sky listlessly, “never needed to, really.”

“Huh,” you’ve finally managed to stop your shaking body, calming down enough to lift your violin to your chin, “maybe we should go together sometime.”

Before you give her time to process the offer, you drag the bow across the G string, letting the note resonate over the landscape, just to make sure you didn’t muck anything up during the impromptu tuning. Satisfied with the outcome, you begin to play, not bothering to set up your stand or bring out any books, sitting cross-legged in the soft grass instead of standing. This isn’t really about practicing, you decide, but about letting the music flow through you naturally.

By the way Fiore’s eyes become half-lidded, then slowly close, you can tell that she’s enjoying your improv. With your focus only on the next several notes, you need your fingers to grasp; you can’t put too much attention in how beautiful she is, sprawled out in the sun like this. Only that she is, but you try to only use your periphery to observe this.

“You said that you could show me the main square?” She asks when the music notes slowly ebb away.

“I mean,” how do you put this delicately, “you might have to put on some clothes, first.”

Her face scrunches up in a slight scowl at the mere thought. “Yes, I’ve noticed that humans are cautious about covering your bodies up. If you’d like, you can take yours off now, I wouldn’t mind.”

You try not to balk at the idea right off the bat because you’re not sure if mutual nakedness means the same thing to her as it does to you. “I’m fine for now, actually. I don’t mind the clothing.”

“If you insist.” She goes back to her leisurely lounging. “But I suppose that I would have to wear… something, if I were to enter the city.”

“Yeah, unfortunately, there are laws about public nudity.”

Fiore lets out a little hmph, “and there are certain rules to the clothing.”

“... Yeah,” you say, trying not to show too much sheepishness.

“But you will help me?”

“Of course.”

Fiore pauses, cocking her head to the side as she thinks. “I believe someone once told me that such an outing would be called a ‘date.’”

You just about crack the wood of your violin in half. Not entirely sure in which direction either of you would like to take, you say, “I mean- yes, it could be, but it doesn’t have to-”

“What do you mean when you say it is, but it doesn’t need to be? Are humans always so very confusing about such matters? Must be exhausting.”

There’s some truth to that statement, your brain is especially ready to explode again, though for a much different reason than before. “I mean… if you’d like it to be a date, it could be a date. But if you didn’t want to go on a date with me, it could be like a platonic get-together.”

Fiore squints, running over her options, then shrugs. “I’m fine with a romantic outing.”

The hairs on your arm stand up. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“Alright.” There’s an odd, explosive sensation in your chest, and you’re not sure what to do about it. “That sounds like a plan.”

#exophilia #kelpie #kelpie/reader #monster lovers #monster/reader #genderfluid monster

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btxtreads · 4 years ago

Text

country boy - kth

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Reader Word Count: 9.4k Genre: fluff, smut, Cowboy!Taehyung Rating: +18 Trigger Warnings: oral (m-receiving), fingering, denied orgasm, penetrative sex, delayed orgasm, unprotected sex (pls wrap it b4 u tap it), just rlly cringey smut im sorry Banner Credits: Thank you so much for @kimtaehyunq of the Bangtan Headquarters Editing Team for this banner! It’s so pretty??? ajshjsahjsa

*some scenes inspired by the Hannah Montana movie and Girl Meets Texas because I have no country knowledge. I just felt the cowboy Taehyung spirit*

The tranquil plains and farmlands was nothing like the tall, concrete buildings and noisy traffic-filled roads that Y/N was used to.

Her eyes almost rolled back in exasperation as the car rolled onto a driveway leading up to a decently-sized wooden house complete with horses and a small cabbage patch at the side.

The perfect image that describes country.

Y/N’s father turned and faced her with a grin.

“We’re home, pumpkin,” he said.

“Right,” Y/N tried to smile—she really did, but she couldn’t. How could she?

Her father told her that he was going to England for three months for his job—which Y/N was totally fine with. What she didn’t understand was why she couldn’t go with, or at the very least stay in her house alone with her dad.

Why did she have to stay back with her grandmother?

Y/N stepped out of the car, a pained smile on her face as she watched her father unload her suitcases from his car.

“Alright, I’ll see you in about—ten weeks?” her father asked as he handed off the suitcases to Y/N who only sighed.

“Dad, I really don’t get why I have to stay here.” Y/N said, her eyes darting around the area. “I could’ve stayed with mom.”

Y/N’s father’s eyes turned sad.

“Honey, your mother’s busy—“

“Ah, yes. Too busy fucking her boyfriend to house her daughter for three months. I forgot.”

“Y/N!” Her father chastised to which Y/N only rolled her eyes.

“Why can’t I just stay alone at home? Or go with you?” Y/N sighed. “Why here?”

The two’s heads turned as the door to the house opened, revealing Y/N’s grandparents with a wide smile.

“Because you haven’t been back here since the divorce three years ago. Grandpa and Grandpa really miss you.” Her father explained softly.

Y/N only sighed, looking up at the sky in frustration.

“Whatever, let’s just get this over with,”

She now has to spend three months in the country. No friends, shitty wifi, no way out.

Except maybe an unruly horse.

Y/N sat in the living room, her father long gone as he drove back to the city for his flight the following morning.

Her grandmother came carrying a small platter of freshly baked cookies.

“Still hot!” She said as Y/N smiled softly.

No matter how much she despised the country now, she would never tell her grandparents.

Her grandparents were her only anchor during her parents’ divorce—her grandmother a total sweetheart who bakes cookies and cakes for all her cravings and her grandfather being a tad enthusiastic in learning the ins-and-outs for all her passions and interests.

No, this was the least she could do—pretend she was having at least a decent time.

Y/N gulped and took a cookie.

“Thanks, grandma.”

“Oh, and I invited some of your friends over, by the way.” Her grandfather said, appearing at the doorway to the kitchen. “Thought you’d want to catch up with them, kid.”

“I have friends?” Y/N asked, raising her eyebrow. “Who?”

“Oh dear, Jin, Hoseok, Namjoon and Chaeri, remember?” Her grandmother asked, furrowing her eyebrows.

“Ah, them.” Y/N nodded.

She supposed the three of them were her friends—in a way.

Friends she hasn’t spoken to since she was ten.

There was a series of knocks at the door which made Y/N flinch.

“Ah, reckon that’s them. You should get the door, honey.” Her grandmother said, moving towards the kitchen. “I’ll leave you children be to chatter.”

“Okay, thanks.” Y/N shrugged, standing up to get the door.

She was greeted with a tall boy with slicked back hair, a plaid polo, and a heart-shaped smile.

“Howdy,”

“Hello, Hoseok.” Y/N smiled softly backing away and waving him in as she peeked at his companions. “Seokjin, Namjoon, Chaeri. Come in!”

“Oh, it’s Hobi, Jin, Joon and Chae,” Hoseok said, waving nonchalantly as he took a seat on the couch. “We’re friends!”

“Sure,” Y/N shrugged, closing the door as she took a seat on the armchair opposite Hoseok. “We haven’t talked in like—what, fifteen years? Felt awkward to call you that.”

“Once friends, always friends,” Namjoon smiled as Jin nodded along.

“So, how have you been, how’s the city treating you?” Chaeri asked, leaning over. “Any cute city boys you wanna tell me about?”

As Y/N chuckled, Jin scoffed at the Chaeri.

“Please, I’m the most handsome person you’d ever meet. Y/N probably hasn’t found anyone handsome since me.” Jin commented.

“Ah, yes. Worldwide handsome, I think i remember.” Y/N nodded.

Jin grinned, pointing finger guns at the girl.

“Well, the city’s been great. I got a lot of great friends, and met a lot of cute guys, Chaeri—but no one as handsome as you, Jin.”

“See?” Jin boasted, grinning at his friends.

“I’ve seen handsomer,” Chaeri commented.

“I’m your boyfriend!” Jin gasped, appalled. “I should be the most handsome creature in the entire planet for you!”

“You guys are dating?” Y/N smiled, tilting her head.

“Yeah, and they’re disgusting.” Hoseok stuck his tongue out at the couple.

“They’ve been dating since two years ago—they’re pretty clingy.” Namjoon commented, to which Chaeri tutted.

“Yeah, no. Jin is clingy—I’m not.” Chaeri shook her head and pushed a whining Jin away.

“Anyways, how have you guys been here?” Y/N asked, changing the topic.

“Ah, good enough,” Hoseok shrugged.

“The old plains we used to hang around in became a pub. Oh, and Hansul’s sister went to the city to train to be a famous idol.” Namjoon recalled.

“Is she?” Y/N asked.

“Yeah, also our grade school teacher—remember her?—got remarried for the fourth time after you left,” Hoseok shared.

“Again?”

“Yes! The guy had a son, about our age—Taehyung. They moved here weeks after the marriage.” Chaeri gossiped. “Took the town by storm,”

“Took the town’s girls by storm,” Jin huffed.

“Ah, let me guess. A fuck-boy?” Y/N asked.

“Not really, he doesn’t really mind them much. Never really saw him flirt back to any of them—spare a girl or two.” Namjoon shrugged, leaning back.

“Ah, a heart-throb, then?”

“Sure,” Hoseok said. “You could call him that,”

“Hm,” Y/N said, shaking her head before shooting the group a mischievous smile—changing the topic. “So, tell me something—Does Namjoon know how to saddle a horse now?”

“Maybe if he didn’t keep breaking saddles every day.”

“Hey!”

It was hours after Jin and Chaeri they had to go for a date night, which prompted Hoseok and Namjoon to leave as well.

Y/N then decided to go out on her own to familiarize and acclimatize to her childhood home—after all, she’ll be here for three whole months.

It’s been two hours of aimless wandering when she reached the field she used to play with her friends when she was younger.

Her eyes landed on the big wooden-building with the big signboard that said “Big Billy Restaurant and Pub.”

“Oh, so, this is the new pub,” Y/N said to herself.

Moments later, a boy—about her age—stumbles out of the pub wobbly and red-faced, with a bottle of whiskey still in hand.

It was a look Y/N knew from her time in the city—he was shit-faced drunk.

Y/N chuckled, gazing at the boy who seemed to have had more alcohol than he could handle.

As soon as she turned around to leave, she could hear him clearly scream “you!” from the top of his lungs.

Y/N jumped in her spot and turned, raising an eyebrow. “Me?”

“Yes, you,” The boy said, clutching the beer in his hands. “youuuuuuuuu.”

“Meeeeeee… what?”

The boy collapsed on his knees and sobbed. “You broke my heart!”

“I did what now?” Y/N dead-panned as the boy wailed in front of her. “Dude, get up. What the fuck?”

“Ji-eun! Why?” The boy wailed, pounding on his chest with his fist. “I-I did everything for you! I loved you so much!”

He sniffled as he took another swig of his whiskey.

“My name is Y/N—“

“What did I do wrong th-that made you replace me?” The boy slurred sadly, waving his arms. “Whe-Where did I go wrong?”

“What?” Y/N groaned, running her fingers through her hair as she crouched down and shook the boy’s shoulders. “Buddy, I’m not Ji-eun. I’m gonna go.”

As soon as she finished her words, the boy let out a loud sob and jumped on her, clutching pathetically at her torso.

“Dude, let go of me.” Y/N hissed as the boy sobbed in her chest.

“Ji-eun, please! Be with me again! I don’t care if you want me to be your second man, I’ll be okay with that.”

“That’s so pathetic—“

“Ya, Yoongi-hyung, that’s enough.” A deep voice chastised from a few feet away.

Y/N’s head shot up, her eyes landing on a tall raven-haired boy frowning a few feet away.

He was, in simple words, majestic—godly—etheral.

His eyes were the prettiest shade of dark brown she’s ever seen, black hair slightly gelled and parted in the middle—showing a little forehead, his denim jacket snug on his body.

He grinned a little as he studied the sight.

“Ah, hyung. What am I going to do with you?”

The boy, Yoongi, only sniffled as he pulled back from Y/N.

“Taehyung, Ji-eun—“

Y/N’s eyes wandered back over to Taehyung with an open mouth. So this is the teacher’s step-son Taehyung who moved here.

“That’s not Ji-eun.” Taehyung chuckled, walking over to help Yoongi up. “Now, how about we stop bothering the little lady and apologize.”

“But—“

“I’ll help you talk to Ji-eun tomorrow, Yoongi-hyung,” Taehyung shook his head, shooting Y/N a small grin as Joon-hyuk pouted. “Now, come on,”

“S-Sorry,” Yoongi hiccuped, his lower lip shaking in a sad pout.

“Uh, that’s fine,” Y/N shook her head, amused.

“Can you wait for me out here?” Taehyun asked to which Y/N only raised an eyebrow to.

“Uh, sure?”

“Thanks, I’ll be right out.”

“Sure,” Y/N shrugged. “Goodluck with Ji-eun, Yoongi.”

Yoongi burst into tears as Taehyung snorted, leading him back into the pub.

Three minutes later, he sauntered out of the building with a smile.

“I’m back,” Taehyung said. “I’ll take you home now,”

“Thanks, but no need,” Y/N shook her head. “I can do just fine on my own,”

“I don’t mind, it was the least I could do after that whole scene with Yoongi-hyung.” Taehyung smiled, waving her hand. “Lead the way.”

Y/N bit her lip as Taehyung’s smile widened.

“Come on, I insist.”

“If you’re sure.” Y/N shrugged, starting to walk as Taehyung matched her pace beside her—hands in his pockets as he hummed. “Is your friend okay?”

“Oh, drunk beyond belief but nothing new with him,” Taehyung rolled his eyes. “He gets drunk a lot—it’s sort of a natural state to him,”

“He’s alright, then?”

“Yeah, I called his brother to come take him home,” Taehyung shrugged before smiling again. “That’s nice of you, Taehyung.” Y/N mused.

At this, Taehyung raised his eyebrows.

“Your friend, Yoongi, called you Taehyung earlier,” Y/N explained before widening her eyes. “Oh, unless he got your name wrong too. In which case, I’m so s—“

“It’s fine,” He laughed, waving his hand. “No, it’s Taehyung, yeah.”

“Oh, goodie.” Y/N smiled as Taehyung tilted his head.

“What brings you here, L/N?”

It was Y/N’s turn to raise her eyebrows this time.

“Small town, news gets around.” Taehyung laughed. “You were a face I couldn’t recognize, and you did say you were Y/N earlier too.”

“Ah,” Y/N nods slowly, before stopping. “Wait—you were there? Why didn’t you come sooner?”

At this, Taehyung burst into laughter at Y/N’s wide eyes.

“It was really funny to see you struggle.”

“Nice to know you enjoy my pain,” Y/N mutters under her breath.

Taehyung smirked over at her. “Hm, yeah, I do,”

Y/N bit her lip, her mind threatening to cloud over with inappropriate images that should absolutely not pop up in a conversation with someone you just met.

Y/N cleared her throat, her cheeks brushing a furious shade of red as she looked up at the night sky.

“But—uh, listen. I don’t plan to take Yoong-hyung to Ji-eun tomorrow if he doesn’t remember so just—can you keep that part a secret?” Taehyung said, rubbing his hand behind his neck. “He’s just a real sweetheart with Ji-eun,”

“By sweetheart—“

“By sweetheart, I meant a real pain in in the ass.”

Y/N laughed loudly, making Taehyung grin.

“Yeah, if I understood correctly, I don’t think Ji-eun needs to have a chance to be forgiven,” she shrugged.

“Yeah, she screwed him up real nice.” Taehuyng snorted. “Yoongi-hyung’s all tough and edgy but when he falls in love—I don’t know. Ji-eun's really done it.”

“Hm, I hope he gets over it soon,”

“Yeah, me too.” Taehyung hummed in agreement.

Y/N smiled. Attractive, funny, and a gentleman who cares for his friends—how much more beautiful can this guy get?

Upon surveying her surroundings, Y/N cleared her throat once more.

“Well, we’re here,” Y/N said, pointing at her grandparents’ house behind her. “I should—uh,”

“Head inside,” Taehyung nodded, waving as Y/N slowly walked up the drive-way.

Y/N took another glance at Taehyung, which only made him chuckle.

“Good night, ma’am,” he smiled, tipping an imaginary hat.

“Good night, sir,” Y/N giggled, tipping her imaginary hat back at the boy.

Taehyung laughed out loud one last time before turning around and making his way back to the direction he came from.

Y/N shut the door behind her and leaned back on it with a sigh.

Who the fuck was that boy and why was he the hottest person she’s ever met her whole entire life?

“It’s so nice that you volunteered to give us an extra set of hands at the ranch, kiddo.” Her grandfather gushed happily as he led her over to their barn. “We could really use the help,”

“Yep, real nice,” Y/N said, teeth clenched in frustration.

It was the next morning when she woke up to a new day of what her grandmother called an “honest day’s work.”

Y/N thought it was just a country saying—how wrong she was.

After breakfast, she was immediately ushered to prepare to go help at the barn because, apparently, her father said she whole-heartedly volunteered to do ranch-work.

This was something she never said she’d do.

Her grandparents, however, were ecstatic that she wanted to “immerse in the country-side”, so what choice did she have?

Her grandfather opened the doors to the barn, and she was immediately greeted with the sight of hay—so much hay—and a boy sitting next to a large table by the corner.

There, Taehyung sat with a phone in his hand.

“Taehyung is here today, he helps us from time-to-time,” Y/N’s grandfather said, leading Y/N over to the boy.

At the sound of his name, Taehyung snapped his head up and shot the two with a smile.

Taehyung looked absolutely sinful with his messy hair, high-waisted pants and brown leather belt.

His white shirt has the sleeves rolled up, perfectly showcasing the muscles in his upper arms when he raised his hand in a wave.

“Hello, grandpa,” Taehyung grinned before winking at Y/N, tipping an invisible hat in her direction just like he did the night before. “Ma’am,”

“Taehyung,” Y/N said smiling slightly.

“Our boy Tae here will be giving a bath to old Sally and Pumpkin today to prepare them for the big horse race tomorrow,” Y/N’s grandfather explained, handing the girl over to Taehyung with a pat on his back. “Now, you help him do that, maybe take the girls for a spin while you’re at it,”

At this, Y/N’s grandfather bid the two a quick farewell and left.

Y/N gulped at Taehyung’s smirk.

“So, how’s your day, Y/N?”

“Ah, pretty great so far, I guess?” Y/N smiled nervously as Taehyung raked his eyes on her from head-to-toe.

“You look beautiful today,”

“Thank you,”

“So beautiful, that it’s a shame that you have to get out of those clothes,” Taehyung quipped happily.

Y/N’s eyes widened, her mind short-circuiting as she processed his words.

“W-What?”

Taehyung let out a guffaw when he saw her wide eyes, shooting a quick wink.

“Mind out of the gutter,” He smirked, turning around to rummage around a small cabinet nearby. “Your clothes look expensive—not to mention it’s white. Don’t want to dirty that.”

Y/N glanced down at her current outfit—a white shirt she bought from Gucci and denim shorts.

He was right.

“W-Well, you’re wearing a white shirt, too!” Y/N defended weakly to white Taehyung laughed, standing up with a plaid top in his hands.

“Yeah, well, this white shirt is worth $4 for three pieces,” Taehyung joked. “I think I can afford to ruin it a little bit,”

Y/N smiled, taking the top Taehyung was offering.

“And this shirt?”

“Spare clothes I could bear to get ruined just for you,”

Somehow, the only words Y/N’s brain processed were I could ruin you.

Trying to maintain her composure, Y/N licked her chapped lips—an action noticed by Taehyung.

Taehyung’s eyes locked onto her lips, making him lick his own as well before clearing his throat.

“Well, suit up. This is going to be fun!”

Y/N grinned.

Yeah, this was going to be fun.

It was absolutely not fun.

It was one whole week of torture, for both Taehyung and Y/N.

One whole week of “you’re doing it wrong,” “stop whining it’s not hard,” “maybe if you actually listen,” and the likes and Y/N had enough.

It was one whole day of horse-riding—apparently, it was a good exercise for the horses—and Y/N was officially done with the whole country thing.

She marched into the barn and collapsed on the chair, leaning her head on the table.

Within a few seconds, a livid Taehyung marched inside the room—his pretty brown eyes wide in anger.

Y/N raised her head up and sighed in irritation. “Leave me alone, Kim,”

“No!”

“The fuck do you want?”

“You fucking screwer up, Y/N—again. For the millionth time this week.” Taehyung seethed. “The horse was going too fucking fast—I told you not to go that fast, but did you listen? No,”

Y/N clenched her teeth as Taehyung continued his rant.

“I told you to pull the rope to slow the horse down. Did you listen? No,” Taehuyng continued. “You said you put the saddle on perfectly, but you didn’t—“

“Taehyung, for the love of god—Shut the fuck up.” Y/N groaned running a hand on her face.

“Time and time again, you screw up, Y/N. What if you fell, huh? Hit your head, get a concussion? What am I supposed to tell your grandparents, huh?”

“That I fell,” Y/N hissed, glaring at Taehyung. “That fucking simple,”

“No!” Taehyung said once again, raising his hands in anger. “Are you that stupid not to follow such simple instructions—“

Y/N scoffed standing up and turning around to leave.

Immediately, Taehyung was at her heel, still continuing his rant.

“If you just did it the way that I told you to, then—“

“I’m doing my fucking best, okay?” Y/N screamed, turning to face Taehyung in anger. “You know I know nothing, I’m doing whatever the fuck I can—you can’t blame me for failing when I’m doing the best that I fucking can,”

“Yeah, that the best you can do?” Taehyung scoffed, crossing his arms. “Then you’re pure absolute shit at this—why did you even volunteer to help?”

“Because my father told me to!” Y/N argued back. “I didn’t even want to, but even then I tried all that I can to help you—“

“Well, you were absolutely no help.”

“You think I don’t know?” Y/N screeched.

“Tone it down,” Taehyung hissed. “You need to learn how to shut you’re fucking mouth,”

Y/N raised her eyebrow in disbelief in irritation.

“Oh, do I, now?” Y/N scoffed, leaning forwards with an angry glare in her eyes. “Fucking make me, country boy,”

With a scoff, Taehyung leaned down and crashed his lips on Y/N’s.

His soft lips were enough to shut her up until the next decade—only if he kept kissing her until then.

Y/N gasped, eyes wide as Taehyung harshly gripped her waist and pulled away.

“Shut you up real nice, didn’t I?”

“Fuck you,” Y/N hissed, leaning back up to reconnect their lips—hands and fingers immediately darting up to wrap around his neck and play with his hair.

Taehyung growled as he roamed her body with his hands, pushing her towards the table.

As soon as her back hit the piece of furniture, Taehyung pushed her up to sit.

He disconnected his lips with hers and immediately moved to her neck.

Y/N moaned as Taehyung quickly located her pulse point and lightly sucked.

“You’re such an asshole,” Y/N said through her moans, tilting her head to provide him more access.

“Yeah, you’re making out with this asshole,” Taehyung growled out as he returned to kissing her lips, a faint purple mark blooming on her neck.

Y/N whimpered as Taehyung’s hands reached up and grasped one of her breasts, groaning lowly as he bit her lower lip.

“Tae, please,”

“Please, what?” Taehyung muttered against her lips.

“Touch me,” Y/N moaned out.

“Fuck,” He hissed, feeling Y/N’s hands travel up his shirt.

Y/N pulled away and reached for his leather belt, slightly panting before—

“Y/N!”

Immediately, the two sprung away from each other fixing their messy hair and clothes.

As Y/N fixed her hair, the barn door open to reveal her grandmother with a smile.

“We’ll talk about this later,” Y/N muttered to Taehyung, who only smirked at the girl as he wiped the corner of his lips.

Y/N cleared her throat, slowly releasing her breath.

Kim Taehyung made her want to bite off so much more than she could chew.

“Honey, you have visitors,” Y/N’s grandmother called as she got close enough.

“I do?” Y/N raised an eyebrow.

Her eyes panned over to the entrance of the barn where a tall boy with a delicate bunny smile poked his head through.

“Hello!” Jimin cheered as he appeared behind Jungkook.

“Guys!” Y/N gasped, peeling away from Taehyung. “Jungkook!”

Taehyung blinked in confusion as Y/N darted forward and met Jungkook in a fierce embrace, being lifted up in the air and twirled as Jimin laughed behind them.

“Holy fucking shit, I missed you!” Y/N said, cradling Jungkook’s face in her hands.

“I have so much I need to tell you about,” Jungkook gossiped as Jimin reached the pair.

“So does she,” Jimin chortled.

He grabbed a few strands of Y/N’s hair and set it aside, chuckling as a dark purple bruise revealed itself on her neck.

Immediately, Y/N slapped his hands away and backed up as Jungkook chuckled lightly.

“They’re going to be staying here until the summer festa,” Her grandmother shared, making Y/N gape.

“Wow,” Y/N gasped, leaning against Jungkook who wrapped his arm around Y/N. “a whole week with me?”

“Two weeks, actually—You and me,” Jungkook giggled, squeezing Y/N at his side.

“And me, you turds.” Jimin scoffed as Jungkook slammed his palm on Jimin’s face.

“Kook, fuck off,” Jimin scoffed before pulling Y/N’s hand. “Anyway, show us around!”

“Of course—“

Taehyung let out a small cough, making Y/N snap back into reality as she turned to Taehyung.

His eyes danced between her and Jungkook, with an eyebrow raised.

“Oh, uh, in a while, Jiminie,” Y/N said as Taehyung glowered at Jungkook.

Jungkook was either impassive or downright oblivious.

Judging by how he only grinned at Y/N as he rocked back and forth on his feet.

“I have to talk to Taehyung in a quick whi—“

“Actually, I think I have something to talk about with your grandmother.” Taehyung declared, voice low and firm. “Don’t want to take you away from something important,”

“Tae—“

“Mrs. L/N, I wanted to talk to you about horse-racing,”

Y/N’s brows furrowed as Taehyung swiftly turned on his heel and marched out the back-door of the barn to the stables.

Y/N’s grandmother raised her eyebrows in confusion, facing Y/N. “Honey?”

“Touchy,” Jimin whistled as Jungkook snorted. “What was that all about?”

“Ah, that’s um,” Y/N glanced back at the back-door Taehyung exited from, almost expecting him to burst back in.

But he didn’t.

“Nothing, guys,” Y/N cleared her throat. “Just him being an asshole,”

Y/N hasn’t seen Taehyung in over a week.

Yeah, Kim Taehyung was indeed a grade-a asshole for basically sucking her face in the barn and then leaving her for dead for about a week.

Well, it’s not exactly just his fault.

But Jungkook and Jimin were here—she’s gotta spend time with her visiting friends!

Right?

Jungkook and Jimin burst through her doorway, screaming at her.

“Are you ready yet?” Jungkook screamed at her ear, tugging at her white dress.

“Jungkook, scram,” Y/N said irritably as Jimin collapsed on her bed.

“Y/N, you’re taking too long. I want to party,” Jimin whined, which Jungkook promptly followed.

“Yeah, stop trying to look pretty. You still look ugly anyways.” Jungkook commented, which earned him a slap at the back of the head from Y/N.

“What he means is the guy you made out with probably won’t be there.” Jimin shrugged, giggling as Y/N promptly turned around to shoot him a nasty glare.

“Who?” Jungkook said, oblivious doe eyes wide in surprise.

“That cute Taeyong guy from the barn when we got here,” Jimin huffed. “Remember she had a hickey?”

“Oh, yeah!” Jungkook gasped.

“It was just in the moment,” Y/N said, pursing her lips as she turned back to her vanity to apply the last few strokes of mascara. “at least for him, I think.”

“You see how he glared at me?” Jungkook snorted as he sat next to Jimin. “That’s not in the heat of the moment. He was, like, about to throw me against the wall for even hugging you,”

“That’s hot,” Jimin hummed.

Jungkook furiously turned a bright shade of red as he floundered around.

Y/N rolled her eyes.

At least her two friends were having a good… relationship, fling, whatever it was.

She picked up her lip gloss—cherry bomb.

As she applied it to her own lips, her mind wandered.

She distinctly remembers the same shade being transferred from her lips to Taehyung’s that day in the barn.

She can almost see his smirk as he wiped it away from his face.

“Y/N, are you dooooone?”

She gulped, snapping back as she slipped the gloss into her bag.

“Yeah, yeah. Come on,”

It was a big celebration at the pub.

Of course it was—it was the summer festa.

It was a big celebration all over the town.

There were food booths and picnics at every open park, rodeos and races at the open house, and a big discount on alcohol at the big party held at the pub.

There, Y/N sat by the bar with a beer in hand as Jungkook and Jimin did a surprisingly good rendition of Hannah Montana’s hoedown throwdown at the stage.

“It’d be fucking stupid to pass out on not popping, locking and polka dotting when I’m in the fucking country, Y/N,” she remembers Jimin chastising before dragging a pliant Jungkook to the stage.

Tuning out Jungkook and Jimin aggressively screaming “do the hoe-down throwdown!” through the excessively loud speakers, Y/N turned to the bar and peeked at the group beside her.

“Oh, Hobi!”

Hoseok turned around with a smile, two tequila shots in his hands.

“Y/N, didn’t know you’d be here,”

“Where else would I be?” Y/N snorted, taking the tequila shot glass Hobi offered.

“With your family, or at the rodeo?” Hobi shrugged, clinking his own shot glass with Y/N before drinking.

Y/N hissed at the alcohol’s burn as another voice sounded out.

“Someone can handle her alcohol,” Jin said teasingly, ruffling Y/N’s hair as he and Namjoon arrived.

“I did this practically everyday in the city,” Y/N huffed, batting her hands as Namjoon snorted.

“I pity your liver,” Namjoon said sympathetically.

“Where’s Chaeri?” Y/N asked to which Jin only shrugged.

“She’s at home, helping her mom cook for the big celebration. She’ll meet us here in about an hour or so,” Jin replied.

Before he could continue, a familiar voice called his name.

Jin turned around, smiling as Yoongi came into view.

“Ah, Yoongi great timing,” Jin smiled, slinging an arm around the boy.

“Stop touching me,” Yoongi whined, although he made no move to push Jin away.

“This is Y/N, our friend when we were kids,” Hobi introduced, pointing to Y/N who waved.

Immediately, Yoongi’s face burned red. “Ah, yeah. We’ve met.”

Y/N’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “Oh, you remember?”

“I’m really sorry for last week,” Yoongi apologized, shyly giving Y/N his gummy smile. “I was in a, uh, really bad place,”

“That Ji-eun girl was a bitch for doing that to you, by the way,” Y/N snorted. “Did you talk to her the next morning?”

“Ah, no. I figured she didn’t deserve a chance to explain,” Yoongi shrugged as Namjoon gaped.

“What exactly happened?”

“Ah, he was, uh—pretty drunk,”

“An understatement. I sobbed on her and thought she was Ji-eun,” Yoongi winced, making the rest of their company laugh. “If it wasn’t for Taehyung, I probably would have sobbed on her all night.”

At the mention of the forbidden name, Y/N tensed.

Immediately, a feeling of sadness and longing passed through her—one whole week without something she got so used to.

“Oh, yeah, which reminds me,” Hobi piped up. “I would’ve thought you’d be with Taehyung now. You guys have been working together for the past weeks right?”

Yoongi nodded along, hands grabbing at the beer bottles appearing at the bar behind Y/N.

“He only ever talked about you, actually.” Jin snorted. “It got pretty annoying,”

Jungkook and Jimin suddenly appeared, presenting Y/N with a topic change.

She cleared her throat and smiled, gesturing at the two.

“These are my friends from the city, by the way. Jungkook and Jimin, these are Jin, Hobi, Yoongi and Namjoon.”

After a brief introduction, the group immediately dabbled into different topics before settling on the festa itself.

“So, what other things happens during the summer festa aside from parties where everyone gets wasted?” Jimin asked, supporting on a red-faced Jungkook who was coerced by Jin to take three consecutive shots.

“Well,” Hobi trailed off, trying to recall the events.

“There’s a horse racing track in two hours, Yoongi’s going to join,” Namjoon recalled.

“Oh, you’ve been drinking, though?” Jungkook slurred, pointing at Yoongi.

“Will you be okay?”

Yoongi only snorted, waving nonchalantly.

“That means he’ll be okay.” Jin translated, to which Yoongi replied with a two thumbs-ups.

“Oh, and bull-riding on old Hellraiser happening in like 30-minutes at the rodeo house.” Hobi supplied, turning to Y/N. “Did you wish Tae a good luck today?”

Y/N tilted her head, mind practically floating at the mention of talking to Taehyung again.

“Ah, I haven’t exactly had the time to talk to him recently,” Y/N shook her head.

“Well, you should,” Yoongi snorted, taking another swig from the bottle in his hands. “He’ll need all the luck he can get.”

“Why?”

Namjoon, Jin, Hobi and Yoongi exchanged confused looks before Hobi furrowed his eyebrows at Y/N.

“You don’t know?”

“Don’t know what?”

“Hellraiser is the bull. It’s an annual festa thing for men brave enough to try riding her,” Namjoon said.

“Then it’s probably fun,” Jimin supplied to which Jin shook his head.

“Not really. Hellraiser is named that because she’s too tough to ride. She’s sent a lot of riders to the hospital, that bull,” Yoongi shook his head.

“The longest anyone ever rode her was…” Hobi trailed off, looking at Namjoon.

“3.8 seconds.” Namjoon supplied. “That was Mr. Han—three years ago. He was sent to the hospital, he couldn’t move until about six weeks in. Took a week knocked out and multiple critical injuries—it was painful to watch,”

“Scary,” Jungkook commented.

Y/N shushed the tipsy boy before furrowing her eyebrows, heart racing a mile a minute.

“So, Hellraiser is a murder bull in-the-making,” Y/N said. “What’s that got to do with Taehyung?”

Everyone was silent before Yoongi raised his hand.

“No, yeah, I’ll tell her.” Yoongi shook his head, muttering about ‘cowards.’ “Taehyung’s having a go at Hellraiser in about thirty minutes.”

At this, Y/N froze.

This bull—Hellraiser—sent a grown-ass man to the hospital in a one-week coma and multiple critical injuries that took five more weeks for him to be able to move again.

This bull was going to hold Taehyung’s fate in half an hour.

She wasn’t exactly sure if she was ready to see Taehyung in the hospital. She can’t.

They said they we going to talk about what happened at the barn. She had to ask him why he didn’t even talk to her this week or why he left her that day, or—

“Y/N,” Hobi sighed.

Y/N flinched in her chair, gulping as she turned to Hobi who sighed as he held her shoulders.

“I can see you’re nervous about this. Go to him before he goes on,” Hobi reassured.

“I have to go,” Y/N agreed with a nod, her eyes quickly sweeping over her peers.

She shot out of her seat, barely registering Jungkook and Jimin bid swift farewells to their table-mates before following her trail.

She didn’t care—her gaze was directly set on one location and one location only: The Rodeo House.

Suddenly, the subtle red poster on the doors with the big black bull and the words “Hellraiser” on the front wasn’t so subtle anymore.

Y/N burst through the doors in anger, taking a sharp corner into the door labelled Challenger’s Lounge.

The inside was wide.

All around her were white walls, buffet tables, large televisions showing the arena outside and people wandering about as they waiting for their own respective challenges with their friends and family.

But none of this mattered to Y/N—No.

All she could see was the tall raven-haired male all decked out in denim by the television, crossing his arms and tapping his foot as he looked up at the live broadcast from outside.

This was a sight she could remember perfectly—it was what he wore when she first met him outside the pub.

Exactly in the same position.

She noticed his unruly hair that normally would’ve inserted some pretty sinful thoughts in her brain, and how we bit his lips and nipped at his nails in nervousness—a habit he usually did when Y/N went too fast while horse-riding, or how he raised his eyebrow slightly at every interesting thing he could see in the television.

Normally, Y/N would stop and Kim Taehyung in all his glory and she almost did—but her anger won in the end.

“Kim Taehyung!”

The said boy flinched, turning around with his mouth wide-open in surprise as he saw her.

Y/N looked so out of place around the plaids, leather and denim people sported all around her—she was decked in a flowy white dress and her hair was pinned back.

She looked so innocent, so delicate and gentle, but the anger in her face told Taehyung otherwise.

“What the actual fuck?”

“What?” Taehyung asked, ignoring the curious gazes casted on them

He grew even more confused as the girl marched towards her.

“A murderous bull? You’re going to ride a murderous bull?” Y/N seethed. “Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“Technically, Hellraiser hasn’t murdered anyone yet,” Taehyung supplied. “Just critically injured. You know, maiming.”

“Is that supposed to be better?” Y/N hissed.

Taehyung shrugged, crossing his arms with a frown.

“Well, no, but I gotta.” Taehyung supplied.

“Why?”

“I just gotta,” Taehyung said, crossing his arms again. “If I could actually get to ride that bull for more than 3.8 seconds, It’d be really big for me,”

“How—“ Y/N started, but shook her head in exasperation. “You know what?”

“What?”

“If you do this, I’ll never speak to you again,” Y/N said, her voice firm. “Taehyung, please. Don’t get on that bull.”

Taehyung uncroseed his arms, his eyes turning soft.

“Y/N—“ He gently whispered, reaching out to her.

His eyes flitted over to the door as it opened once more to reveal Jungkook.

“Oh, Y/N! I finally found you,” Jungkook said, walking forward. “Been looking all over for you. Jimin, she’s here!”

Taehyung’s gaze immediately hardened, confusing Y/N.

He cleared his throat before stuffing his hands inside his pockets.

He turned and trailed his gaze back to the televisions, his voice low as he spoke.

“I’ve lived 24 years without you, I think I’ll be fine.”

Hurt danced in Y/N’s eyes as she slowly backed away.

“I’ll never speak to you again,” she nodded solemnly.

Taehyung could only look at her as she took Jungkook and Jimin with her and walked out of the lounge.

“Taehyung, it’s time,”

He had more things to worry about.

It was a few hours later when Y/N sat alone on a log in front of a campfire.

Jimin and Jungkook were long gone, talking about the time and how it’s late.

But she didn’t want to go home—not yet.

So here she was, a few feet from her barn alone and staring at a campfire without her friends.

A few footsteps told her there was someone coming.

She couldn’t really find it in her to care.

The figure took a seat beside her and cleared his throat.

“Hey,”

It was Taehyung.

Silly, denim-wearing, tall as fuck, messy-haired Kim Taehyung.

“I, uh, stayed on the bull for 5 seconds,” Taehyung shared, biting his lip as he also stared into the fire. “I fell, but nothing bad happened. A little sore,”

Y/N only hummed, still gazing into the hot flame.

After a few minutes of silence, Taehyung huffed and stood up.

“Alright, what’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” Y/N replied blankly, her eyes still trained on the fire.

-“I don’t understand,” Taehyung angrily said, his eyes glaring onto Y/N from his position. “Why are you ignoring me?”

Y/N only stayed silent.

“Why didn’t you want me to ride that bull?”

Y/N clenched her teeth, her eyes firm on its spot as she gazed at the burning fire.

“Why—“

“Because I like you!” Y/N exploded, her eyes wide in anger as she turned to Taehyung. “Because I don’t want to see you get hurt,”

“Why?”

“Should there be any reason why?” Y/N replied as Taehyung gaped at her, silent in her spot.

Y/N squirmed in her chair, sighing in exasperation as she shook her head.

“Let’s just watch this fire.”

There was a few minutes of silence between the two.

Taehyung turned his head to look at Y/N, who looked back at him. “Stop,”

He sighed and gazed back at the fire, slowly turning his head to stare back at her.

“I said stop.” Y/N hissed. “Just stop, I want you to stop,”

Taehyung sighed angrily and stomped off, leaving Y/N in her lonesome.

It was expected. She expected that.

She wanted to sit there and think, but she never got the chance to.

Just as quick as he left, Taehyung marched back to the campfire—his sleeves rolled up and arms bulging in strain as he carried two buckets full of water in his arms.

Y/N turned to him, her eyes wide in alarm as he approached.

“Taehyung, what are you—“

Not replying, Taehyung stopped next to her and dumped both buckets of water on the campfire.

Y/N could only look at him in shock as he panted in frustration, turning back at the girl.

“Will you talk to me now?”

“What the fuck do you want from me, Taehyung?” Y/N screeched, slamming a hand on his chest.

“I want you to talk to me.”

“You want me to talk to you? Fine. Let’s talk.” Y/N hissed, slamming a hand once more on his chest. “Why did you leave me that day, huh? Why did you leave me for a fucking week blank?”

“You tell me,” Taehyung glared back at Y/N, who only smiled angrily.

“No, I’m asking the questions. You wanted to talk—now, give me an answer.” Y/N sighed, sitting back on the log. “You’re a good guy, Tae. I believe you’re a good guy. I believe you won’t just turn back and leave me for dead,”

“Why?”

“Because if you weren’t you wouldn’t be here trying to ask me to talk to you.”

Taehyung sighed, sitting down next to her.

Silently, Y/N shook her head. “I like you. You’re a good guy, you’re a good friend.”

Just when it was all good, it spiraled back into a huge ball of disaster.

“Just a friend?” Taehyung scoffed. “Right. I should have known.”

He stood up with angrily, muttering the same sentence all over again. “I should have known,”

“See, this is what’s wrong with you!” Y/N angrily said, standing back up as she screamed at Taehyung’s back. “You’re making me so confused! Just a friend—this is bullshit.”

“You’re the one who said it,” Taehyung argued, but his words fell on deaf ears.

“Why did you kiss me that day, huh? What, you just wanted a good fuck that day? Were you angry you never got to do it, huh?” Y/N hissed.

Taehung raised his eyebrows, scoffing in disbelief.

“You’re one to talk. Who’s been dangling her city friend all around the fucking town, huh?” Taehyung replied.

“Dangling?” Y/N angrily laughed. “You’re the one who hasn’t talked to me in a week, you fucking asshole. You don’t get the right to talk about my friend like that.”

“Wow, you’re really up his ass, huh.” Taehyung shook his head. “Is his dick really that good, huh?”

At this, Y/N stopped.

His what now?

Taehyung might have been clever and charming—but his ass was definitely oblivious.

If he just thought for a second, he’d realize that Jungkook was as straight as a bendy straw.

Still, she couldn’t stop the word that spilled out her mouth.

“Fuck yeah. Fucking Jungkook is so fucking good, I couldn’t fucking walk for a week straight,” Y/N hissed, enjoying the way Taehyung’s expression progressively got angrier and angrier. “Fucking him would probably be a million fucking times better than your sorry ass.”

“Yeah?” Taehyung angrily growled.

“Yeah,” Y/N replied.

“We’ll see about that,” Taehyung gruffed, stepping forward and crashing his lips on hers.

Y/N’s response was immediate.

Her lips meshed with his so perfectly as she melted against his body, her arms wrapped around his neck.

Taehyung pressed closer deepening the kiss before Y/N pulled away.

“You know what? Fuck you, Taehyung,” She hissed before falling down on her knees.

“Oh, I will,” Taehyung smirked as watched Y/N reach for his leather belt.

As the girl cussed at him, she pulled the belt away and agressively pulled his pants down.

He was well-endowed. He wasn’t too thick, just the right size for Y/N’s hand, but he was long.

He wasn’t hard yet, but he was getting there.

Y/N almost hesitated and wondered if he would fit in her mouth as she placed a tentative lick on the tip.

Taehyung drew in a breath, his hands reaching to tangle in her hair.

Fuck it, Y/N thought before enclosing the tip with her mouth and sucking.

“Just like a fucking lollipop,” Taehyung guided as Y/N made her way down on him.

He was too long. What she couldn’t reach, she used her mouth.

“Fuck,” Taehyung hissed, groaning as he threw his head back.

Y/N pulled away and licked the underside of his shaft, sighing as she regained her breath.

Taehyung shuddered as Y/N’s thumb brushed over his bulbous head.

“You’re so fucking big,” Y/N moaned as she pumped him.

Taehyung could only look down at her with a smirk.

“Bigger than Jungkook?” Taehyung asked with a smirk making the girl roll her eyes.

Trying not to feed into his ego, Y/N descended back on him—going as deep as she can go.

Her hand reached up to fondle his balls, grunting in effort as she shifted back and forth on him.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking good at this,” Taehung groaned, his hands tightening in her hair.

He gave tiny thrusts that only increased his pleasure ten-fold.

“Feels so fucking good,” Taehyung hissed out, throwing his head back. “I can’t wait to feel you, shit. I’m going to fuck you so hard,”

Taehyung could swear, as he looked back down to the girl on her knees with him in her mouth, that this was probably the most beautiful sight he’d ever see.

Y/N whined in her spot, feeling her panties grow damp at Taehyung’s words.

She reached down and lightly rubbed at her crotch—aiming for a small sense of relief.

“Holy shit,” Taehyung hissed, looking down and catching Y/N palming herself.

Y/N moaned lightly, and Taehyung can feel it as Y/N shoved him deeper down her throat.

“Fuck, Fuck, Fuck!” Taehyung groaned out. “I’m almost there, I’m cumming.”

At his words, Y/N swallowed around his dick.

This was his last straw. Taehyung threw his head back as he released his load on her.

Y/N opened her mouth, letting him fill her mouth with his essence.

When Taehyung climbed down from his high, he looked down to see Y/N pull herself away from him and swallowing.

Somehow, this got him going more than the actual blowjob.

“Taehyung,” Y/N started, staring up at him from her position.

She was a mess—his mess, he thought.

She was still on her knees, her hand still holding him as she looked up at him with the biggest puppy eyes. Her lip gloss smudged around her mouth and her hair was totally mussed around.

“Taehyung,” she repeated. “I-I need you.”

His eyes shifted towards her family’s barn a few feet away, smirking.

Seems like he’ll get to fuck her there after all.

The moment they entered the barn, Taehyung shoved Y/N against the closed door and immediately went for her neck.

Y/N could only groan loudly as his hand shot up to fondle her breasts over her dress.

“Taehyung,” Y/N groaned, making Taehyung close his eyes with a groan.

Right there and then, he could die happily hearing her gentle voice say his name in the dirtiest manner.

Taehyung pulled away after he satisfied himself with a couple marks on her neck, moving to nip at her jaw and place another rough kiss on her lips.

“All mine, all mine,”

Y/N only whimpered, her head hitting the wooden door as she tilted it back.

Taehyung’s fingers made quick work of the zipper behind her dress, harshly pulling it off of her and somewhere on the barn.

As soon as Y/N heard the soft thud of her dress, she straightened her head up and furrowed her eyebrows.

“Tae, that’s Gucci—“

“Shut the fuck up,” Taehyung growled, pulling down the cups of her bra and attaching his lips onto her right nipple.

“Oh my god,” Y/N can only moan, closing her eyes as she heaved.

With a nibble, Taehyung pulled away. “All of this is fucking mine, make sure your city friends know that.”

“They will, they do,” Y/N breathed out in a whine as Taehyung returned to fondling and sucking on her breasts.

Y/N gasped as she felt him hard on her again, hips pressing roughly on hers.

“Take it off,” Y/N breathed, her hands underneath his denim jacket and tugging on his white shirt.

Taehyung made quick movements.

He barely registered his jacket and his shirt hitting the ground behind him as he felt Y/N’s hand fondle him.

“Y/N,” he breathed out, making the girl whine.

“Tae, please,”

Taehyung hissed, dragging her body away from the floor and harshly bending her over the fence of an empty stable.

His hand landed a sharp smack on her ass, making her grip the metal railings she leaned on.

“Taehyung, please,” Y/N whined, her head lolling forward.

“You’re so wet,” Taehyung said, rubbing his finger over the damp patch on her panties. “Who did this?”

“You did,”

“I didn’t hear it,” Taehyung quipped, landing another harsh smack on her ass. “Who did?”

“You did,” Y/N moaned louder, whining as Taehyung delivered another sharp smack. “You did, you did,”

Satisfied, Taehyung smirked and gripped her thin panties—ripping the delicate lace apart.

Y/N was so lost in a haze of lust that she didn’t even notice.

After a brief moment of anticipation, Taehyung placed his thumb of her hooded clit.

He took pleasure in the way Y/N inhaled a sharp breath, lowering her head down and releasing a high-pitched whine.

He played with her, rubbing her clit at a torturously slow pace and fingers itching closer to her slit but never dipping in.

“Taehyung, touch me please,” Y/N whimpered.

“What do you want?” Taehyung asked, eyes light with mischief.

“Stick your fingers in me,” Y/N whined.

“Whatever you want, princess,”

With two fingers, Taehyung eased his fingers inside her warmth.

He didn’t start slow, no. He set a fast, rhythmic pace that had Y/N quaking.

He let his thumb continue its assault on her clit, his other hand securely gripping her waist.

Y/N shuddered on her spot, eyes closed as she thrusted her hips on his hands.

At that moment, he could swear that she looked like a goddess.

As Y/N clenched on him, he abruptly pulled away.

Y/N let out a high-pitched whine turning her head to see a smirking Taehyung.

“What the fuck?”

“I said I was going to fuck you real good, Y/N,” Taehyung said, turning her around. “I intend to stick to it.”

Y/N shuddered once more, readjusting her grip on the fence as Taehyung massaged her waist.

“I’d love to taste you, but next time,” Taehyung sighed, positioning himself in her entrance before stopping. “I, uh, just realized I don’t have a condom,”

“Taehyung, I’m on the pill,”

“Good,” Taehyung sighed in relief. “I don’t think I can wait any longer,”

Before Y/N could let out a retort, Taehyung thrusted in.

Y/N released out a loud moan, her head falling down limply as Taehyung thrusted in and out on a rough pace.

“Holy shit, you feel so amazing,” Taehyung muttered as he smoothed his hands on her back. “You feel so perfect,”

“Tae, Tae,” Y/N only whimpered as Taehyung thrusted harder.

Y/n’s body shook everytime their hips met, her moans getting louder and louder.

“Scream for me,” Taehyung huffed, “Let everyone know who’s making you feel this good,”

“Tae, please, harder!” Y/N almost cried.

Y/N whimpered, her hands reaching back to lay on Taehyung. “Please, please. I’m gonna cum.”

At her words, Taehyung slipped out of her and picked her up.

“Taehyung, wha—“

He set her down on her back, gazing at her as she lied on the table.

“Tae?”

He pulled her closer, prying her legs open as he hissed.

“You’re so fucking hot,” He muttered before plunging back in on a different angle.

Y/N could almost scream, throwing her head back in pleasure.

Taehyung’s tanned skin was covered in sweat by this point as he grunted and panted with every thrust.

The barn was filled with nothing but moans groans, and the sound of their hips slapping against each other at every single thrust.

After one particularly hard thrust, Taehyung fixed his grip on Y/N’s leg—hitting a particularly deep angle.

His hand reached down to press over Y/N’s lower stomach, smirking as a bulge appeared at every thrust.

Y/N whined, a whole new plethora of pleasure clouding her brain.

“I-I’’m—“

“Are you going to cum?” Taehyung asked mischievously as he thrusted harder and faster.

“Yes, yes. God, yes.”

“Hold it,”

Taehyung groaned in effort, each rough thrust losing rhythm.

“Please, please, please,” Y/N whimpered, her hand reaching down to grasp over Taehyung’s please.

“With me,” Taehyung said through gritted teeth. “Now,”

As soon as she felt Taehyung explode inside of her, Y/N allowed herself to indulge in pure euphoria—his name falling off of her lips in a loud prayer-like chant.

All she could see was white. All she could feel was his shallow thrusts inside of her as he filled her up.

Taehyung kept thrusting as both of them, letting out silent moans and groans as he rode down their highs.

Y/N breathed out, completely spent as she climbed down from her orgasm, turning slightly to Taehyung with a smile.

“Hi,” she muttered, to which the boy only replied with a grin.

“Hi,” Taehyung replied, still hovering above her and tucked a lock of hair beneath her ear.

He leaned his forehead on hers as she giggled, raking a hand through his hair.

“What… exactly is this, Taehyung?” Y/N asked.

Taehyung hummed.

“Is this just for like one night? A spur of the moment thing or—“

Taehyung smiled.

“If it isn’t obvious yet, I really like you too,” Taehyung said. “Fuck you were so cute that day, when I saw you when Yoongi was crying on you,”

Y/N chuckled as Taehyung laid his head on her chest. “And those weeks at the barn, I was really nervous to spend so much time with you,”

“Is that why you were so mean to me?”

“Aren’t city boys mean to the girls they like?” Taehyung asked, hands roaming her sides in a loving caress. “I thought I was too late because of Jungkook,”

“You-You do know Jungkook doesn’t like me, right?” Y/N giggled as Taehyung buried his head in her neck again, laying little nibbles here and there. “He likes Jimin,”

Taehyung froze and raised his head.

“Wait, what?”

Y/N laughed at his stupefied gaze, throwing her head back in amusement.

“But… all those things you said about fucking him was—“

“Not true,” Y/N shook her head. “He’s gay, Taehyung. He’s always liked Jimin. I think Jimin likes him, too.”

Taehyung frowned, his hands caressing Y/N’s waist.

“So, you don’t like him?”

“Of course, not. Not like that,” Y/N shook her head, reaching up and laughing. “The way you got so riled up when I told you I fucked him, though. You were so—“

Taehyung leaned forward, crashing his lips on hers once more.

Y/N inhaled sharply, her hand climbing up to lightly rake on his back as she arched hers.

She could feel him harden against her hips once more.

“You need to learn how to shut your fucking mouth, baby.” Taehung mumbled lowly against her lips.

Y/N smirked, tilted her head as she felt Taehyung adjust himself to her entrance once more.

“Make me, country boy,”

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slowburndisaster · 4 years ago

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Red Queen ch. 2

rating: M for Mature

genre: mafia au, slow burn

pairing: ot7 x reader

series warnings: Cursing, violence, gore, smut scene in this chapter (blink and you might miss it), y/n is a bad bitch, maybe a dash of angst here and there for flavor

synopsis: You’ve decided to merge with the 7 most powerful mafia bosses in Korea. They don’t know what they’re getting into, and neither do you.

Chapter 1

Growing up, Jin had always been considered weak and ugly. His peers constantly told him he was ugly, he would never amount to anything, that he never belonged anywhere. He had grown so used to being put down that he had started to believe those horrible words. He shrank away from others, tried to make himself invisible. That happened for years until he met Namjoon and Yoongi. They treated him like a brother and lifted him out of the darkness. They convinced him that he was better than all those other people, more handsome that all of them combined. He even came up with his nickname, Worldwide Handsome, shortly after that as a joke but it stuck.

Now, he was one of the most powerful mafia bosses in Korea along with his 6 friends. They had worked swiftly and with unparalleled intelligence to take over the most cities. He thought of this fondly as he looked around y/n’s office. They had all been working with you for several months now. Your confidence still made him feel like he needed to hold his breath around you. Ever since your first meeting, he knew you were a force to be reckoned with. You had won them all over, getting them to join with you and your impressive network.

“So, what’s the status on your side, Jin?” You pause, waiting for a response. When met with silence, you glance up from the papers on your desk taking in the faraway look in his eyes as he stared at you. Any other time, you’d think he was checking you out and you might even flush a little under his gorgeous dark eyes, but right now, in the middle of this meeting, you were slightly annoyed. “…Jin? Status?” You spoke louder, and sterner, eyes meeting his.

“Ah, my apologizes, my queen.” The corners of his lips twitch upwards for a second at the way he addresses you. He knows you aren’t thrilled with him calling you that, which makes it a regular occurrence when he’s around. “Everything seems to be moving smoothly. We had new shipments of pharmaceuticals come in yesterday. Our clients seem incredibly pleased with them and orders have increased.”

You nod, scribbling notes into your large logbook. “Excellent. Well, that seems to conclude this meeting now. Everything is going great so far but keep an eye out for any discrepancies or missing product. We tend to let our guard down when things go smoothly, leaving us open for attack. Also…Jin, could I speak to you privately?” Standing, you say your goodbyes to the other 6 men as they file out of your office.

“Jin, what’s going on with you? I’ve noticed you’ve been more…. detached…. lately. If something is bothering you, I’d like for us to address it now. I can’t have people in this organization that do not have their head in the game.” You slowly walk around your desk and lean against the front of it while speaking.

He shook his head. “There’s nothing bothering me. It’s nothing really. I do apologize, my queen. I’ll be more alert.” He says with a smirk.

“…Jin. You do not have to call me queen. Y/N is fine with me.” You sign, crossing your arms across your chest. “We are all partners in this. I’m not completely ruthless, just when I’m pushed.”

He chuckles “I know. I don’t believe you’re as ruthless and heartless as the stories say. I just…ah, never mind.” He suddenly stops talking, looking away.

“You just what? Go on, say it.” You raise an eyebrow, staring down at him.

“I just don’t understand how someone can be as powerful as you, and as…. beautiful…and not have someone at their side. Is this really what this lifestyle has to offer? Loneliness and power?” He drops his head, staring at the floor.

You blink several times, replaying what he just said in your mind to make sure you heard him correctly. Did…. did he just call you beautiful? “It’s not always lonely at the top. It is true that I do not keep a man at my side, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have my needs met. It’s extremely dangerous to have any type of public and serious relationships with the number of enemies I’ve made over the years.” You sigh, looking up at the ceiling. “I usually seek out what I want or need when I desire it. I find that emotions, such as love, can sometimes make us act recklessly. I cannot be reckless, I have too many people depending on me. I also find that it’s best to be very blunt with what I want.”

“You sound a lot like Yoongi. I completely understand your reasoning. I just feel like this whole thing gets a little suffocating sometimes.”

You watch him, emotions flitting across his face as he speaks. Deep down, you feel bad for him. You feel the same for all your associates. Positions of power in this empire makes you a target. One would be a fool to bring in a love interest that could be used against you. Trusting any outsiders is nearly impossible because of people trying to worm their way in to get information.

“It really does…” you whisper, barely audible.

Jin lifts his eyes to your face, wondering if he heard your correctly. He could swear he saw a hint of sadness in your eyes, but as quickly as he saw it, it was gone. Replaced with your dominating stare. He stands slowly. “Thank you again for being concerned for me. It’s nice to have that at times. I will be better for you.” He winks and smiles.

You lean forward and put your hand on his upper arm and smile softly. “Of course, and remember if you need to talk about something, I’m always available. I’m really not as emotionless as you all think.” His eyes widen slightly, a faint blush creeping across his face. “I hear everything.” You wink at him, squeezing his arm slightly before dropping your hand. “It’s okay, I’m used to it.”

The heat on his arm from where your hand had been felt like it was burning his skin. He tried not to focus on it as he nodded and said his goodbyes. The way you spoke and acted always demanded respect. It’d be a lie to say he had never let his mind wander. He wondered what you would look like getting lost in pleasure underneath him. What kind of sounds he could coax from you as your icy exterior slipped away. He wanted to have you screaming his name and begging for more. He rubbed his arm as he walked down the hallway towards the exit. He had a new personal mission. To see you at your most vulnerable and see just how many times he could push you over the edge in ecstasy.

“Oh god…right there…” you moan out, eyes squeezed shut as your head tips back onto the pillow. Jin’s thrusts speed up as he grabs the headboard with one hand, the other grabbing at your breast. A devilish smirk carved onto his handsome face as he rips moan after moan from your throat.

“You like that? I want to hear you screaming my name, Y/N. I want everyone to know who you belong to. Who fucks you better than anyone ever has?” He leans down biting and sucking at your neck, marking you as he sees fit. Your fingers raking down his back, leaving angry red marks.

“JIN…. fuck…Jin!”

“Louder, kitten!” He pounds into you, desperate for your cries. You look amazing arching your back underneath him, biting your lip and clinging to him.

You open your mouth while clenching around him. “It’s time….to wake up….”

He wakes suddenly and sits up. His skin glistening with sweat, breathing heavily. He looks at the clock and sees that it’s only 4am. He groans looking down to see a wet spot on the front of his boxers and his dick straining against the cloth. “Of course, it was a fucking dream…”

He slides out of bed and shuffles to the bathroom to take care of his predicament. “I feel like a damn teenager…” He mumbles as he wraps his hand around his length.

A few hours later, Jin slowly shuffled into their headquarters. He had barely slept because when he shut his eyes all he could see was your face and hear your moans.

“Jinnie! Good morning…wow…you look rough. Long night?” Hoseok greeted him loudly, wagging his brows at the end.

“You have no idea.” He looked up to see the expectant look on his friend’s face. “Not like that…definitely not that fun. Just had a lot on my mind and couldn’t sleep.”

“Hmm…what’s going in that head of yours that is cutting in on your beauty sleep?”

Jin looks around the room, making sure he was alone with Hoseok. “…it’s Y/N.”

Hoseok’s eyes widen and his mouth opens slightly. “Y/N? Did something happen when she asked you to stay back yesterday?”

“No, no, nothing like that. She was nice during our talk. We chatted briefly about some things. She noticed I wasn’t focusing well.” He takes a deep breath. “I just couldn’t tell her…that the reason I couldn’t focus was because of her…”

“Because of her? Is the ice queen getting under your skin?”

“Hobi, she’s not an ice queen. I just wonder what it would be like to be…with…her.” Jin could feel the tips of ears heating up at this confession.

“WHOA! You’ve got the hots for the boss?!” Hoseok says loudly.

Jin quickly slaps his hand over his loud friend’s mouth before glaring at him. “I swear to god, Hobi. If you say one word about this, I’ll skin you alive. Besides…you haven’t thought the same thing? I’m surprised that no one else has felt like this. She’s single, powerful, and gorgeous.” He removes his hand.

“The thought may have crossed my mind from time to time…” a large smile broke out on his face. “But that’s what’s keeping you from sleeping? Being attracted to her?”

“Well…” Jin looks at the floor “I may have had a dream…about her. A very…good...dream…” he coughed and looked up slowly.

Hoseok erupts in laughter. “Oh my god! You had a wet dream about her too?! This is good…this is so good.”

Jin glares at him once again “I’m glad you think so!! I’m not even sure I’m going to be able to look at her the same way…at least for a while…”

#red queen bts fic #bts mafia au #bts slow burn #jin

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lunarimagines · 4 years ago

Text

OASIS [1]

Summary: When the world’s oceans start disappearing, everything is sent into chaos. You’re forced to either start moving towards the city center or perish. It almost feels hopeless... until you meet Kim Taehyung.

Warnings: language, future smut

A/N: I hope you enjoy the new series! Send me a message if you would like to be added to the taglist for this series :)

It was fucking hot.

Sweat dripped down your forehead and into your eyes and, god forbid, dripped off your nose in salty splashes against your lips and shirt. Kim Seokjin, your traveling partner, was faring no better. His white shirt was plastered to his broad back with sweat and the ends of hair dripping with sweat below his scarf covering. Both of you had wicked sunburns and tans, the effects of the extreme heat.

Four months ago the oceans had suddenly begun to dry up. The waves had disappeared, then the shoreline retreated the next day, and suddenly the ocean was collapsing in on itself. At first there had been fears of a tsunami but as the event appeared to happen to coasts worldwide, something else was very, very much wrong. Scientists had been stumped. How could such a massive body suddenly start to disappear? But there appeared to be no answer. The effects were devastating. The temperatures around the world began to rise, the rain and snow came less, humidity was practically unheard of. The forests were slowly receding. Concrete and asphalt were unbearably hot to stand on. Dehydration was common. The whole world was crumbling.

When scientists began to understand the phenomenon was not going to reverse itself, sand and dirt were poured over the concrete and asphalt in cities, cars were banned, and water was immediately rationed. The fear was lakes and rivers eventually drying up once the ocean water was gone. Terror was widespread.

When the whole world had seemed to collapse you had been an average university student studying abroad and living in an off-campus apartment with two other exchange students. When the news broke the apartment had cleared out as people rushed home - including your roommates - leading to higher airline prices and backed up flights for days, then months. You had stayed, rationing water from the grocery stores and packing instant food. Your next door neighbor (now travel buddy) Kim Seokjin had decided to stay in the apartment where he was safe from the overwhelmingly poor elements. The two of you had bonded through sharing resources and, as apartments began to be cut off to preserve energy and water, the two of you moved in together. By the time the whole apartment complex had run out of energy and the power and water shut off, the two of you had devised a plan to head inward toward the heart of the city rather than stay on the outskirts. Surely, surely, there was someone in the major city who could save you, offer an oasis.

But, God, it was hot as shit out here. Your throat was aching and scratchy from the dust. You didn’t dare to take another sip of your water.

“Let’s stop here for an hour,” Seokjin finally suggested as he rounded the corner on a concrete building. Though slightly dilapidated, the building didn’t look like it would fall down on your heads like some of the other structures in the city.

You agreed, following him through the hole in the wall where the door had once been. Inside it was stifling, the airflow nonexistent. You dropped your bag on the far wall away from direct sunlight and pulled your scarf off of your head, wringing the sweat out of it. Seokjin followed your lead, offering you half of his granola bar when he finally collapsed onto the floor next to you.

“Thanks,” you mumbled hoarsely. Then, after a bite, “How long do you think it will be until we reach the city center?”

Jin shrugged and sunk lower into the floor, closing his eyes and fanning himself softly. “I would guess about another day. I don’t think we’re that far, but this heat feels like it’s getting worse and we’re definitely going slower because of it. We have enough food and water left for two more days so let’s pray they have water in the city center.”

Your stomach flipped at his mention of resources. In reality, the two of you had enough water to last you another week, max. But in order to have water left in the event that the city held nothing, you had enough water rationed out for one more day. The thought of running out of water completely scared you. Your headache was already fierce from the slight dehydration you were facing. You didn’t even want to imagine what severe dehydration would feel like.

“I’ll set a timer for thirty minutes,” Seokjin said as he pulled out his battery-operated timer. It was the only electronic thing you had left besides your watch currently strapped to your wrist. Cell phones were long gone. “You can sleep first, then I will.”

It wasn’t necessarily that you feared an attack, but with water and food scarce and plenty of wild animals moving into the city because of the deforestation, it wasn’t impossible.

Settling in, you rested your head on your pack, adjusting the lumps in it to surround your head in a nice cradle. It didn’t take much before you were out cold, your body going limp as exhaustion pulled you into a deep sleep.

You knew you were tired when you had no dreams. By the time Seokjin was gently shaking you awake so you could take the watch as he slept it had felt like no time at all had passed. Standing up to shake the sleep off, you set the timer for thirty minutes. Wandering toward a window, you looked out the cracked, dusty glass at the surrounding buildings. Heat was shimmering off the bone-dry dirt and stone buildings. You rubbed dirt out of your eyes as you stared around, eyes watching for movement. You weren’t expecting any movement. At most, people had moved either to the countryside or, as you and Seokjin were trying to do, to the city.

You lost track of time by drawing designs into the dust on the glass lightly. Some of them were simple and some were more elaborate as you tried to recreate the landscape around you. The good thing was you needed no color; everything was in varying shades of beige and white. The sun and heat had all but bleached the buildings.

The ringing of the timer woke Seokjin with a start. He stretched lightly, his shirt lifting slightly to expose his hips. He had lost some of the muscle he’d had when you first met him simply from a lack of nutritious food and plenty of water, but he was still quite toned. You couldn’t help but notice that… While you couldn’t imagine anything romantic in this climate you were allowed to still look, right?

“I wish we still had cameras so I could tell you to take a picture,” Seokjin joked as he stood up.

“Please,” you answered with an eye roll, “I’m sure you’d love to take a picture of my ass to look at in times of struggle. That’s all you stare at when I lead.”

“Sue me.”

You smirked at the banter, slinging your pack over your shoulders and situating your scarf over your head again, knotting it under your chin firmly. Sliding your sunglasses on, you turned to Seokjin.

“Ready?”

“God, you look like such an old lady. Yes, babushka, I’m ready.”

“Enjoy your eyeballs burning, pretty boy,” you said, turning to lead the way out of the building and East toward the city.

“HEY! HEY!”

You and Seokjin whipped around to see two figures running toward the two of you. They were a good football field away from you, but closing in fast. Your heartrate sped up as you quickly glanced at Jin.

“Y/N, run,” Seokjin commanded sternly, gripping your elbow and taking off. You stumbled behind him, your mind malfunctioning at the sight of other people.

“In this weather? Are you fucking crazy!?” you huffed behind him, the dust from your steps going straight into your throat and lungs.

“You want to get mugged and lose all of our water and food or suffer a little bit of dehydration and heat exhaustion?”

“Shit,” you exclaimed, picking up your pace to overtake Seokjin and pull him behind you instead.

“Wait! WAIT!” the voices behind you called.

You focused on your feet hitting the ground, the gravel under your shoes feeling hot and rough. Seokjin’s presence beside you was calming. He seemed secure as his eyes were trained forward, trusting yours which were trained on the ground to help him avoid tripping. It wasn’t difficult. The ground was fairly undisturbed, not travelled on.

“Fuck, this heat,” Seokjin panted, his hand gripping your arm more tightly as the effects of fatigue began to take over. The two of you were not as strong as used to be. The extreme heat during the day, the odd coldness during the night, the lack of water and essential vitamins and nutrients were all taking a toll on you.

The lactic acid in your legs was making them heavy and feel as if they were on fire. Your lungs were filling up with less and less air with each breath. The only thing keeping the two of you going was adrenaline and the half hour of sleep you’d just gotten.

“They’re getting closer,” Seokjin huffed after a quick look over his shoulder. “How are they getting closer?”

“If you stopped talking you’d be able to save more air and run faster,” you puffed out, half-joking half-deadly serious.

“I’m gonna sacrifice you if you keep being petty,” he joked and you couldn’t help but laugh, a quick outburst, at his witty remark. It was times like these, potentially life-threatening, that you were glad Seokjin was the one you were stuck with. It made the days a lot less terrifying even though you could hear the footfalls of the two figures chasing you clearly now.

“Everything hurts-”

“Look… who’s talking… now,” Seokjin joked.

“-and they’re going to catch us anyways. I’ll spray them with my pepper spray if they try to attack us but I cannot run anymore, Jin, I’m sorry.”

“Oh thank GOD,” he stopped running suddenly and turned, his chest heaving and his cheeks pink. Sweat dripped down his nose and off of his hair as he stared at the two figures now only ten feet behind you. “I thought I was going to DIE.”

You laughed as you unhooked your pepper spray from your belt and flipped the tab to get ready to spray in case things turned sour. “If we do die, though, I need to be sappy first.”

Seokjin fake gagged but you could see the wry smile on his face as he stared down the figures. They were only five feet away now, their faces becoming increasingly clear as they came to a stop in front of you, panting. One placed his hands on his knees as he caught his breath, the other raising his hands above his head and groaning loudly.

“We called out to you… in the hopes… that… oh my, God I think I’m going to… to pass out… we called because we hoped we could work together to survive but I think… the two of you… are actually trying to kill ALL of us,” the shorter of the two spoke between breaths. The taller one laughed happily. It would almost sound crazed if you didn’t understand exactly how exhausted he was feeling.

“I mean this in the nicest way possible, but you two are the stupidest people I’ve ever seen,” Seokjin replied dryly.

The short boy stood up straight and you finally got to see his face. His jaw was set in defiance and his dark eyes stared underneath his hat at Seokjin with a certain intensity you hadn’t seen in a long time. They sparkled with a challenge and annoyance. His hands came up to rest on his hips and he chewed on his cheek as he continued to stare Seokjin down. “Oh?”

“What kind of dumbass yells at people during an apocalypse and then chases after them? Sure, we’re stupid for running, but at least we can say we did it to try and save our resources. You could have mugged us for all we knew!” Seokjin threw his hands up, his voice raising slightly. You shook your head and wiped sweat off of your forehead.

The boy’s friend laughed again, but it sounded sweeter this time. It was bright and felt comforting because there was no mirth behind it. Only pure happiness and amusement radiated from it. His eyes were bright and, although nearly the same colors as his friends, they seemed lighter with the amusement dancing in them. His cheeks were beautifully rounded when he smiled. You could feel yourself smiling just looking at him.

“He makes a good point, Yoongs,” the boy replied, smiling at his friend who, in return, seemed to relax. At the very least the tension was released from his shoulders. He cracked a smile at the taller one as he turned back toward you and Seokjin.

“We’ve been following you for about a day now, I think,” the taller one explained. “We aren’t asking that you share any of your resources, but we are asking if you would be willing to let us join you as we go toward the city center. I don’t know how much safer it will be, but it feels like it should be safer in a group of four rather than a group of two. I heard there’s a lot of people going to the city center anyway, so more people in the group really does seem safer.”

Seokjin glanced at you and you shrugged your shoulders. He made sense, and if there really were more people going to the city center than you anticipated the extra numbers would be much safer. The thing about large groups of people in hysteria was that violence and deceit always seemed to follow. Plus, the boys had made it clear they didn’t intend to take resources… although the jury was still out on that one. You would be sure to keep all of your belongings close to you when you slept and kept watch tonight.

Stealing a peek at Seokjin you could tell he was still ruminating. The two of you didn’t have much time if you wanted to reach the city center by tomorrow during the daylight hours. It wasn’t an option to reach the center at nightfall when the city was cloaked with a deep blackness that made it nearly impossible to see.

“Fine, but you either have to lead or walk beside us,” Seokjin finally decided for the both of you. You nodded at his decree. The boys also nodded and the four of you turned in a large circle so the boys were in front of you. The taller of the two nodded at you before turning on his heel and starting forward, sticking close the shade of the buildings as he went. His friend followed somewhat reluctantly, but fell in line quickly. You and Seokjin opted to walk side-by-side, your arms brushing lightly as you bent your heads together to talk.

“We don’t even know their names… are we stupid for doing this?” you mumbled. Your voice could barely be heard above the crunch of the gravel underneath your feet.

“Is it too late to ask their names? I feel like it’s weird. They’re just nice one and slightly less nice one to me…” he joked back

“No, it absolutely feels too late to ask. I think we just don’t refer to them by anything other than ‘hey’.”

Seokjin snorted at your comment before straightening up again. His eyes were trained slightly ahead of the two boys on the increasingly tall buildings coming into sight. It felt like an oasis in the desert, which truly wasn’t far off. You sent a prayer to the universe that the solution to your problems would be found in the city because you didn’t want to think about dying yet. You were simply too young and beautiful to die.

Honestly, you weren’t sure what kind of oasis you were hoping to find. Sure, you were hoping to find water and food, but beyond that you weren’t quite certain. Maybe you were looking for a group you and Seokjin could dissolve into so that you wouldn’t have to fend for yourselves anymore. You were so, so tired of having to fight your way through every single day in order to survive and make yourself continue to move, your feet continue to pound against the hot soil and sand, make your lungs continue to fill with air and then expel it. A moment of rest with people who understood your struggle and wouldn’t try to hurt you. Plus, you knew Jin was exhausted. He had dark circles under his eyes and his usually soft and highly groomed hair was crusted with dirt and despair. He took smaller strides each hour it seemed.

But he had never given up. He’d kept cracking jokes with you and making sure you had a shoulder to lean on, sometimes physically rather than metaphorically. You’d fallen asleep on his shoulder every single night since you’d left the apartment. It wasn’t just fatigue. It was wanting to make sure he was real, he was really there. There had been moments you weren’t even sure you existed. You faced an unbelievable heartache cut off from your previous life.

A few hours later, the sun was beginning to set. The boys in front of you slowed their pace as they began searching for a good building to spend the night in. They settled on a small brick house that had been abandoned based on the fact that the shorter boy had called out “HELLO” and nobody had answered. You liked that the door locked, but you were skeptical of why the house seemed to be in such good condition.

“I think here’s good.” The taller boy dropped his pack on the dusty couch, a plume of sand and dust coming off of it from the weight. He wiped a spot haphazardly before plopping down, spreading his legs and draping his arms across the back of the couch. “Take first watch?”

The other boy nodded as he dropped his pack beside his friend’s on the couch. He took a small sip from his water bottle before tightening the lid and slipping it back in his pack securely.

“You want to sleep first?” Seokjin leaned down to whisper, his lips brushing your ear slightly. He blew into your ear lightly just to piss you off before straightening up.

“You can sleep first. I slept first this afternoon.”

Seokjin nodded and went into the second room to find another couch in pristine condition. You followed behind him, suddenly uncomfortable to be alone with the two boys. You still didn’t know their names.

You sat down with your back against the couch as Seokjin spread across it. His hand came down almost automatically to run over your hair lightly. He traced shapes on the back of your neck as you stared down at your watch. You could barely see the time in the dim dusk lighting, but you read the time: 6:45.

“Do you want to eat now?” you asked quietly as you rummaged in your backpack for a protein bar. You would make breakfast with some of your instant noodles in the morning.

“Hmmm… can I have a bite of yours?” Seokjin asked, opening his mouth.

You rolled your eyes but allowed him to take a bite.

“Tastes like shit.”

You snorted. The protein was truly the star of the granola bar. It was bitter and made your mouth feel grainy, but it offered enough energy to keep you going. But yeah, it tasted like shit.

Leaning your head back, you peered up at Seokjin as he shifted onto his side to look at you. “Do you think we’re safe?”

Seokjin let out a deep sigh. His shoulders were slumped and his eyes were drooping as he tried to focus on you.

“I really hope we are. If you don’t feel safe tonight wake me up. I’ll wake you up if I don’t feel safe, too. Keep your pepper spray open.”

You nodded as you settled back to stare at the wall. Soon, the soft sounds of Seokjin snoring filled your ears. His slightly parted lips led out a puff of air onto your head each time he exhaled, providing the only breeze you had felt in ages. The air was still hot around you, the sand still warm. You knew it would cool down soon, though. The land always lost the heat sooner than water had, letting a slight reprieve seep in.

After a while, you stood up to stretch your aching legs. Your knees popped. Glancing at Seokjin, you wandered to the doorway where the smaller boy was leaning, staring out the window toward the city.

“How long have the two of you been together?” he whispered once you’d settled against the doorframe.

You let out a splutter, not expecting him to be so blunt. “Well, I mean… we’ve been living together for about three months and traveling together. But we certainly aren’t dating.”

“I get that,” the boy replied, “because it’s nice to have companionship, even if it’s not romantic. I feel pretty alone out here. I never realized how dark the world was without light pollution. Even camping you know there’s still light in the cities. Now? Not so much.”

The way he spoke had you nodding slowly as you took in his words. He was extremely well spoken. It almost surprised you but not quite. The way he carried himself had clued you in earlier that he was an astute person.

“How long have the two of you been together?”

He seemed to have to think for a minute before answering.

“We’ve been friends for about ten years, I think, and it just seemed natural that we go together…”

You nodded as he trailed off, staring back into the pure darkness. You could barely make out his frame in the gloom.

“What do you think we’ll find in the city?” you finally asked after the silence seemed to encompass the both of you, suffocating in the darkness.

You could hear him sigh and shuffle so he was leaning on the doorframe opposite you. “Honestly? I’m not sure. I think it’s ridiculous to think we’ll find anything functioning but I think I’m still kind of holding out hope that we find a functioning community. Like in a dome, you know? Which feels stupid now that I’m saying that out loud.”

“I don’t think it’s stupid,” you interjected quickly, “or if it is we must both be idiots because I think that’s kind of what I’m hoping for. I haven’t heard anything about how much longer we’ll have the oceans, but I hope somebody can figure out something quick.”

“One and a half months.”

“What?” you questioned, your eyebrows knitting.

“One and a half months until the oceans are completely gone. Then I think we only have a few weeks left to survive. The heat will wipe us out first, I think. If not that then lack of water. If not that, then lack of food. Not to be morbid.”

Ending a sentence with “not to be morbid” never makes it less morbid, especially when the future appeared especially bleak now. You let out a harsh breath and rubbed your eyes roughly.

“Can’t believe there might actually be a day I miss eating these protein bars,” you joked lightly and you heard the boy snort before he began laughing quietly. You could tell he was stifling the sound behind his hand.

“No, last week I had one that was lemon. I was like damn, can’t go wrong with lemon. It felt like I was eating lemon-infused dirt. Literally could have scooped up the dirt from the ground and eaten it.”

You let out a light cackle at that, immediately slapping your hand over your mouth to muffle the sound. The boy was snickering.

“It might have expired. I have no idea what today is, to be fair.”

“Amen.”

The two of you spent the rest of your time in comfortable silence. You could only hear the soft snoring of the two sleeping boys and the light breathing of the other across the door frame. The temperature was finally bearable and you could feel yourself relaxing and cooling down as the sweat drenching your shirt cooled. You knew you would be chilly for the same reason soon. But for now you simply basked in the slightly cooler temperature.

The soft rustling behind you a few hours later let you know Seokjin was up. He gently grazed your arm as you turned to look at him. His hair was pushed up to one side with, a sight you could barely make out in the complete darkness. The only reason you could see anything was from the full moon and the stars outside the window. You reached up to smooth his hair down lightly, the coarse strands caked with dirt and sweat. You didn’t mind. He’d done the same for you before.

“You still have another hour if you want to sleep,” you mumbled quietly as you smoothed his hair. He’d bent down slightly to give you a better angle.

“It’s okay. I woke up naturally so I think that’s my body’s way of saying it’s time for me to get up.”

You smoothed the last strand and patted his head affectionately before he straightened up.

“If you’re sure…”

“I’m sure. Go sleep,” he said with a gentle push toward the couch.

You couldn’t really complain anymore. Your body went to the couch on autopilot, spreading across it with your head on your backpack before immediately passing out. Your body relaxed finally for the first time in hours, and not only did you sleep well, but you even had it in you to dream.

They weren’t serious dreams. Most of them had to do with your life before the apocalypse. Spending time with the people you loved in your hometown. It felt like a fever dream. You felt like you were looking at yourself from the outside rather than living it. You weren’t that Y/N anymore in some ways. You held the same name but you weren’t sure you spoke the same, looked the same, or thought the same. However, the dreams were happy ones and by the time Seokjin was shaking you gently awake you found yourself feeling content and refreshed, though perhaps also slightly nostalgic.

“Let’s have breakfast before we start again. I think we should get there by late afternoon,” Seokjin said as he rummaged through his backpack for food and water.

You sat up and rubbed your eyes. Cheers to another day, you supposed.

“Ahh, I love the taste of incredibly chewy, salty noodles in the morning,” the taller of the two new boys said as he sat down across from you, his friend following behind.

“Be grateful you have food at all, Hobi,” the shorter one grumbled, tearing open his own packet of noodles.

Yoongs and Hobi. You were guessing those were nicknames. Cute.

Your group of four ate silently. You couldn’t really talk much as you tried to chew through the undercooked ramen noodles and forget how salty they were. They certainly wouldn’t help with your dehydration but when they were the only things left to eat that offered more than 190 calories you couldn’t truly complain. Besides, the more you ate them the more you forgot how they should actually taste. At this point these noodles were becoming a delicacy, albeit a chewy one.

“I think we’ll make it to the city by mid-afternoon maybe,” Yoongs said, as he finished his breakfast and placed his wrapper in the dusty trashcan standing in the corner of a room that looked like the kitchen. His actions amused you, but you found yourself following suit out of habit. Refraining from littering a wasteland… ironic.

“Let’s get going then,” Hobi said, slinging his pack over his shoulder and securing his hat on his head.

You decided to pour a dash of water over your scarf before you tied it to your head as you felt the heat permeating every inch of the air. It would be a small sacrifice to help ward off the heat fatigue.

The blisters on your feet were raging today as you began walking beside Jin, following the two boys from shadow to shadow. The buildings seemed to grow taller with each step. Their windowpanes were increasingly busted which worried you. The climate was not different enough on the outskirts of the city from the city center to cause such breakage. The only explanations were riots or violence. You weren’t sure how effective your pepper spray would be against a large group of people.

Your eyes scanned the building windows and, beside you, Jin kept glancing over his shoulder. It hadn’t been more than a few hours before Hobi was abruptly stopping.

“Wait,” Hobi said quietly, holding up his hand to signal to you and Jin to stop. “I don’t know if I’m just being paranoid… but I feel like we’re being watched.”

Goosebumps broke out on your arms and head as you understood what he was saying. You felt like you were being scrutinized. Yet, you hadn’t been able to see anything or anyone in buildings or out in the open. Still, the fact that you were so close to the center of a major city and there had been no people other than the two boys in front of you was suspicious.

You unclipped your pepper spray and twisted the tab open. Beside you, Seokjin unsheathed the small knife he kept strapped to his muscular thigh. His eyes were scanning in front of you as he backed you and himself against the wall of the nearest building. Your pack dug into your back and hips as you got as close to the wall as possible to protect it. Yoongs jammed in beside you and Hobi jammed in on his other side. You waited with bated breath. The air seemed even more stifling.

“Oh my, God! Can you just come out so we can get this over with!” Yoongs suddenly called out, rolling his eyes in annoyance. Despite his confident call you could feel how tense he was.

Figures cloaked in various shade of brown appeared from the buildings surrounding you. Your breath caught as you watched person after person step out. There were at least twenty of them surrounding you before one stepped forward. You couldn’t see their face beneath the hood, but anyone who was so rude had to be absolutely fucking ugly, you thought.

“Holy shit,” Jin whispered, his hand clenching around his knife. His knife began to look comically small amongst the crowd. “How much pepper spray do you have in that thing?”

“Never had to use it before. If I’m careful I can probably get half of them.”

Nobody else spoke. The heat shimmered off the ground and the buildings swam. You wished someone, anyone, in that group would talk. Finally, the one who had stepped forward did.

“How much water do you have?”

It was a woman’s voice. Her voice was gruff, the sound of gravel rolling around a metal tube almost. It made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

“None,” Yoongs bluffed. “Why else would we be heading toward the city center.”

You could feel Jin holding his breath beside you, waiting to see if the group bought the lie. They seemed to grumbled slightly, shifting from one foot to another as they waited for their leader’s decision. She seemed to contemplate it.

“See, why don’t I believe you?”

“You have trust issues?” Seokjin asked, and Hobi snorted from the other side of Yoongs. You sucked in your cheeks to stop yourself from smiling. Even if you were going to die you’d all go out acting petty.

“You think you’re funny-”

“I know I’m funny.”

“-but I still think you all have water. Since you were so rude to us I think we’ll have to take all of it. We were thinking of saving you some-”

“Bullshit,” Yoongs mumbled.

“-but I’m not feeling very kind now. You can either give us your water or we can take it by force. If we have to take it by force I’m not sure we’ll leave your food with you either.”

You couldn’t even be mad about Jin possibly ruining your chances of escaping with your food. His humor and wit were needed against their rudeness. Seriously, who did these people think they were?

Your hand holding the pepper spray twitched as the group moved closer to box you in. You couldn’t see their eyes well enough to aim and you didn’t want to waste your pepper spray, the only thing you had to defend yourself besides the boys on either side of you.

“Water. Now.”

The four of you stayed still, jaws clenched in defiance. Your hands were clammy as you waited. What you were waiting for you weren’t sure. Maybe someone to save you. Maybe heat exhaustion to strike you down. Maybe someone else in your small group to step forward first.

Thankfully a fourth option was presented to you in the form of a man’s voice coming from a window above you in the building you were currently pressed flush against.

“This is so boring will someone please just do something.”

His voice was so deep that it caused shiver to run through you. You took a chance to crane your neck up to see the arms of a man draped over the window as he leaned out casually to watch the scene unfold. He tapped his fingers against the brick impatiently.

“Stay out of this, Namjoon,” the girl called back, flipping him off.

Yoongs snorted beside you at the childish gesture and for just a second the situation seemed less terrifying. You felt a surge of relief course through you because at least there were other people here who maybe weren’t friendly but were also not foes.

The sound of a body dropping out of the window closest to Hobi startled you as the light thump and resulting rise of dust seemed to cut through the tension. Another body dropped down in front of you, landing gracefully on his feet, his hand touching the ground to stabilize himself. He stood, dusting off his hands. The flash of tattoos on his hand caught your attention as you found yourself almost entirely mesmerized by his hands as he reached to unsheathe a knife strapped to his hip.

“You must be scared if you’re sending your guard dogs down,” the girl called up, but she and her group had retreated back a few steps.

“If I was doing that Taehyung would also be down there. As it stands now, I’m not too concerned. This group seems like they could give you a run for your money. I’m sure pepper spray to the eyes in this dry heat would hurt like a bitch,” the man, Namjoon, called back. Your hand gripped the pepper spray tighter as you noticed the boy in front of you turning back to take a glance at the pink container clasped in your hand. His hair flopped roughly into his eyes as he looked up at you and grinned, his cheeks growing round and his shoulders relaxing.

“We just need water, Namjoon. Are you going to give that to us or do we have to take it?”

Namjoon seemed to think that over for a second. He hummed.

“What can we get in return if we give you water?” The girl seemed taken aback at his question.

“What do you want?” she questioned slowly.

“Jimin! What do we want?” Namjoon called.

The boy beside Hobi straightened up and put his forefinger to his lips, pretending to think. He tapped his plump lips lightly before smiling.

“I happened to hear you have painkillers you’re hoarding. Those are quite the delicacy… I think those would be a sufficient trade for some life saving water. What do you think, Jungkook?” The boy in front of you cocked his head to one side as he also pretended to think. “Seems like a pretty fair trade to me.”

“You heard my boys! Bring back the painkillers and we’ll give you even more water than you could possibly get from this group. I would suggest you hurry. I think my deal will expire by midnight.”

The girl turned to look at her comrades who nodded under their beige garments. She turned to flip Namjoon off once more before turning back to her group and dissolving back into the buildings around you, the plumes of dust from their feet the only indication they were moving from shadow to shadow. Your group stood there watching them, almost in a sense of awe and wonder, as Jungkook and Jimin walked back toward the door leading into the building.

“You all going to stand there until the oceans come back or are you going to come in?” Namjoon asked from above, his voice tinged with amusement.

The question stirred you from your daze and you turned in a uniform line to follow Yoongs and Hobi toward the door, slipping your pepper spray closed and clipping it back onto your belt as your feet shuffled forward. Jin grabbed your elbow lightly and leaned down to whisper, “Stay close.. I’m not sure I trust them yet.”

You could only nod as you were met by Yoongs and Hobi halting. Jimin was leaning against the doorframe, his leg sprawled out to block the entrance.

“What’s the password?”

Yoongs huffed in annoyance. “You’ve got to be shitting me.”

“I am, in fact, not shitting you. What’s. The. Password?”

“I’m gonna knock your pretty little teeth out?” Yoongs grumbled and Hobi snorted.

“Thank you,” you sighed to Jimin, craning your neck around to look him in the eye. His eyes shone with amusement and even glee at your answer.

He grinned as he stepped aside. “Bingo.”

“My next guess,” Yoongs shrugged. You shook your head at him. Even though you’d only met the boy about a day ago you had to admit you kinda liked him. He sometimes had a blunt way of speaking but he was also funny and charming and intelligent.

You followed the boys in to find the building had been almost completely gutted. The upper floors wrapped around the edges to leave an open center that looked up to a chandelier filled with candles. Their lights flickered dimly against the square brick ceiling. Faces peered over the edges of the railings and out of rooms. It reminded you of a fancy hotel. You had grabbed Jin’s wrist, earning a look from Jungkook that he shared with Jimin from behind you, as you took in the building. This was your oasis. This.

“Welcome to your new home,” Namjoon said as he stepped off of the last step on a staircase tucked behind a wall. “You’ll always be welcome here as long as you pull your weight.”

“What the hell is this place?” Hobi asked, his eyes wide and his mouth parted slightly as he watched people move.

“Um. I mean. We don’t really have a name,” Namjoon replied awkwardly, his eyebrows crinkling. “We’re not that lame I don’t think.”

Yoongs let out a laugh at that and truly smiled for the first time since you’d met him. It was a cute, gummy smile that had you smiling, too.

“Taehyung!” Namjoon called, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Sorry. Taehyung’s like our unofficial tour guide and, apparently, one of our guard dogs.”

Jungkook snickered behind you and Jimin stifled a laugh.

Jin nudged your thigh with his hand and gave you a pointed look that said, “Do we stay?”

You shrugged your shoulders and shook your head to say, “I have no fucking clue.”

His question was answered when you saw Taehyung, however. His shaggy hair brushed the top of his eyelashes, his dark eyes filled with a warmth and kindness that made your chest feel light. His tanned arms were crossed over his chest as he regarded your small group, his eyes landing on you. He smiled softly and you nearly choked at how gorgeous it was. His deep chuckle had butterflies in your stomach. This boy was affecting your whole body already. You were drawn to him. You wanted him.

“Hi,” he greeted. “I’m Taehyung.”

#bts reactions #bts scenarios #bts smut #taehyung reactions #taehyung scenarios #taehyung smut #kpop reactions #kpop scenarios #kpop smut #bts #kpop #taehyung #oasis m.list #sorry for reposting!#myimagines

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lu-undy · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 18 - SBT

Here it is!

"Hey, M!"

"Eddy. Oh, sorry, is it your lunch break?"

Mundy had opened the door to the hunting shop only to find his friend devouring a sandwich on the counter, a slice of tomato peeking out of it.

"Y-mmh, yeah, it's alright though, pal. C'mere and sit down."

Mundy pulled "his" stool and sat opposite his friend.

"So, what's up? Got any news about Johnson's stuff?"

"I got a lead."

Eddy's eyes shone in excitement.

"Oh man! Did you come to me 'cause you need a rifle?" Eddy dropped his sandwich on the counter.

"Eddy."

"I got exactly what you need? Look, I received those brand news models, they're super good-"

"Eddy."

The small man grabbed one of the rifles behind him and showed it to Mundy.

"Now, they got this new system where basically-"

"Eddy!" Mundy's voice got louder to interrupt his friend. It startled him.

"What?"

Mundy sighed.

"I said I wouldn't touch a rifle again and I intend to keep that promise. Get it out of my sight."

"No harm in just looking…?" Eddy pushed the end of his sandwich away and laid the rifle on the counter. "Now, as I was sayin' - oh…"

When he put the rifle on the counter, Mundy got off his stool and took a few steps back as if the gun was radiating death itself.

"Take it away." Mundy calmly asked, but Eddy saw him gritting his teeth.

"A-Alright…" And he did as he was told.

"I have a lead but it doesn't mean that I need a gun. No one ever needs a gun. No one, and especially not me." Mundy said, still a few feet away from the counter. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves and got close to the counter again.

"So what's your lead then?"

"Not sure exactly but I don't need that filth." Mundy nodded at the row of rifles behind his friend.

"Fair enough. What's the plan then?" Eddy asked.

"Kill time until dinner time."

Eddy watched as his friend fell deep in thought again, his gaze was empty. The little man knew what he had to do in that case and that was to ignore Mundy and get back to his normal life. He grabbed the end of his sandwich and turned the radio on.

Unbeknownst to the shopkeeper, Mundy was trying to plan the evening. He would need some clothes, a shave, and nicer hair no doubt. He looked at the nearest display case and saw his reflection. His messy stumble and slightly long hair wouldn't do. But he didn't want to go to a barber. He didn't have the strength to go and interact with yet another human being. Mundy had already been back for a few weeks and he had depleted his social energy.

He would shave on his own and tie his hair in a ponytail. That would do. For his clothes, he had an old suit somewhere in his van. It was black, but it would do. Black was classy, right? Good, he had a plan now.

"Right…" He got up and collected his hat.

"Good luck, but I know you won't need it."

"Thanks, mate." Mundy left and found his van again. He slipped in and fastened his seatbelt. A good nap somewhere calm would be nice, to charge his batteries and be efficient in the evening.

She drove, the van, and he enjoyed the low purrs of the engine, the vibrations and the sound. He switched gears and was now out of town on a strip of asphalt that split the desert. Her constant rumble lulled him and he rolled the window down. He rested his elbow on the door and tilted his head in the hollow of his hand.

After a long drive on a lonely road, she parked in front of the lake. Mundy hopped off and took a minute to take in the view and stretch, smell some fresh air too. He removed his boots and socks and walked to the shore barefoot. He let the cold water hug his feet and the coolness slapped some life into him.

"Ah…"

He looked at the water lazily hugging his toes before withdrawing slowly, and coming back with the next gentle wave. Mundy had time to kill so he took his time and enjoyed the wet and cool sensation. He pulled his trousers legs up and took a step more. Now the water was at the level of his ankles. Ah, he needed a chair…

He went to the back of the van and grabbed his foldable chair, placed it on the shore of the lake and sat down under the sun, the water coming and going to his feet. Mundy relaxed, leaned back on his chair and pulled his hat to cover his eyes from the very bright sun. The heat on his body and the rhythmic embrace of the water at his feet was like a lullaby to a baby and he fell asleep.

Mundy woke up hours later, rested and warm.

"Right, gotta get ready for this."

He bathed in the lake and went to the back of his van, a towel around his waist. He then took his razor and everything he needed to make his face look decent again. He went back to the lake and sat on his chair, before starting shaving. The surface of the water acted like his mirror. He stared at a face that he thought hadn't changed in a decade. But of course it did.

"Ouch!"

He cut himself. Mundy ignored it and finished shaving. When he was done, he went back to his van. He opened the cupboard that contained his clothes and pushed the polo shirts aside. There was one thing hung there.

"Here it is."

The black suit. His only suit. It hadn't been touched in ten years. White shirt, black jacket, black trousers. No vest though, he couldn't stand it. Vests were always too tight, they suffocated him. The bowtie was efficient enough on its own to do that…!

Mundy's fingers hovered to the suit. They were trembling. Last time he had put this suit on…

"C'mon."

He took it off the cupboard and put it on as fast as he could, to not let his mind think about it all too much. He then rummaged through his drawers to find something to tie his hair with.

"Ah, bugger…"

Mundy only found some elastic bands or bits of fabrics. He used one of the elastic bands and added a black long piece of fabric like a ribbon, to cover the cheap rubber, before adding a touch of deodorant.

When he raised his head again, he saw his reflection on the window and barely recognised himself. His face was very…. visible now. There was no hair or hat to hide it.

Mundy's eyes darted left and right before he found his glasses and put them on again. Now he felt better, not as naked as before. After taking a glance at his watch, he hopped at the front of his van and drove to town. It was high time he got his dinner.

-- The Queen Victoria --

"That's a lot of people…" Mundy mumbled to himself.

"Sir?"

"Huh?" The Aussie landed back to reality. He had entered the restaurant and was looking left, right, up and down. Never had he set foot in a place that fancy before. His eyes took it all in and he pretended it was normal. The patrons dressed as if they were about to meet the Queen herself, the walls draped in dark blue, the massive chandeliers above his head and his own reflection on the tiled floor.

"Did you book in advance, Sir?"

The penguin-like waiter was addressing the hunter.

"Yes… Name's Emme."

The waiter checked the lengthy register below his eyes.

"Ah, yes, I see. Pray follow the young man here."

Mundy followed the other waiter and noticed he was wearing a dark blue and golden attire, just like the one his dear Antonio Sanchez did. But it wasn't him. The name embroidered on it wasn't the one he was looking for.

"If you would be so kind as to take a seat here, Sir." The waiter pulled the chair for Mundy to sit. "Here is the menu, I shall be back shortly."

The Aussie nodded and looked around him. Couples, business partners, friends, all filthy rich people. And then there was this man with a pony tail and yellow tinted aviator glasses… He took the menu and glanced over it.

"Bugger…"

He couldn't afford much of what was there so he flipped the pages straight to the desserts. He would order the cheapest one and would take his longest to eat it.

Mundy's eyes wandered left and right. Any time he saw a waiter, he would squint to read the name on their jacket, but didn't see Sanchez. One of them stopped at his table and he ordered whatever that chocolate thing was that only cost one single eyeball...

"Ladies and Gentlemen…"

Oh what now…? Mundy thought, before the lights in the dining area turned down low and his attention was drawn naturally to the stage.

"Here is the man you have all been waiting for…" The conductor was talking in a microphone. "After a brilliant career in the heart of France where he sang for kings and queens, legends of the movies and famous celebrities known worldwide, here he is… Lulu!"

A man in a black suit walked forward to the microphone on the stage. Mundy looked left and right. People seemed very eager to hear him. No wonder, the man had apparently sung for rich and famous people!

But that did mean that the attention of all the people around Mundy weren't on him. Perfect window to strike…

The Aussie had noticed the CCTV cameras. There were enough to spot the moves of the tiniest mouse. His eyes scanned the crowd intensely. The waiters came and went.

Mundy's dessert landed in front of him and he nodded in thanks. He saw a leaflet slip to the table.

"Oh, you dropped that."

"No, Sir, it's for you."

Mundy looked down at the small piece of paper. It was a… an advert? Mundy flipped it and on the back was a coupon. Half price on a dessert for the next show with that overly fancy French singer. Mundy slipped it in his pocket and looked at the plate in front of him.

He had chosen a chocolate cake of some sort. God knew what it was but the smell made his mouth water instantly and his attention was drawn back to his plate. He took a spoonful of it and the sweet pastry melted on his tongue. Oh it was rich and the chocolate was dark and strong, powerful even. The chocolate powder that was sprinkled on top stuck to his palate and as his tongue wiped it away, he felt the exquisite bitterness of cocoa.

Gosh, that's good…

His eyes went back up to the orchestra. It was quite big in terms of the number of musicians. The brass section was complete, the woods too. Mundy's gaze stopped at the saxophones. He used to play it, the sax, and he loved it. Ah, but those were other days, days where he actually would make a bit of money out of it, playing in pubs and local festivals… Mundy sighed. Those events had happened in a whole other life.

His eyes got pulled back to the front of the scene, where the man with the elegant suit was singing. That bloke sure looked like a suit was comfortable to wear… His vest had white wavy patterns that shone but not too brightly. It must have been velvet or something. There were the same patterns on his trousers on the sides, but they were black on black, much more discreet.

Ah…

That man knew what he was doing with his voice and the posters around town didn't lie… Mundy looked at him intensely. There he was, singing as if it was his last song, his brow furrowed at times, under the intensity of his words, and he would close his eyes. Other times, he would relax, his shoulders would sink, his eyes open slowly, revealing in between the long black eyelashes some very light blue eyes.

Hm.

Yeah, right there, right now, Mundy wished he had someone he could hold hands with, on the table. Someone who would slide his fingers through his own, keep him warm inside, make his chest shrink and burn and burst.

Hm…

Mundy rubbed his eyes and took more of his dessert. He wished the singer could stop. Mundy's musical ear from his days with the sax taught him how to appreciate a voice and damn that man had a bloody good one! And the lyrics…

"When you knew that it was over

Were you suddenly aware

That the autumn leaves were turning

To the colour of her hair…"

Mundy shivered and his shoulders wiggled as he tensed on his seat. He had stopped listening to music for that exact reason, even the radio on the van. Since the events ten years ago, music hurt him. Melodies sliced him on the inside but words, lyrics…? They were absolute agony. Not only did they hurt him, they stayed carved in his memory.

That was one of the multiple curses Mundy was afflicted with. He was a professional killer with a sensitive soul. It was a curse but also necessary for him, for his work. Without empathy, he wouldn't want to save those animals. Without empathy, he wouldn't care for those alligators. And without empathy, he wouldn't have put back this black suit.

Mundy sighed. It didn't suffocate him as much as it did last time he had put it on. No, it's true.

"Round,

Like a circle in a spiral,

Like a wheel within a wheel,

Never ending or beginning,

In a ever spinning reel"

Well said, mate, well said. Mundy thought that time had rolled exactly in that fashion for the past decade. Round and round. He raised his eyes and they met with the singer's. His hair betrayed his age and gave Mundy the impression he was a bit older than him. His temples and front tuft were more salt than pepper. There were a few lines on his slim face too. But for that, the Aussie was the same. The only difference was that it wasn't time who traced those lines on Mundy's face, but the Australian sun.

"As the images unwind,

Like the circles that you find,

In the windmills of your mind."

Mundy blinked and that's when it dawned on him. He had been resting his head on his hand, his elbow on the table, looking up at the singer, drinking the poetry in the lyrics of the song. Ah he wished… He wished he had the luxury to dwell on it longer, to let the wave of bittersweetness invade him, wash him, flush him on the inside.

But nah. He had to find that Sanchez man…

Mundy managed to unstick his eyes from the show and put his spoon on the empty plate.

"Everything was alright, Sir?"

Mundy raised his eyes to the waiter.

"Yeah, very good, thanks."

"Perfect." The waiter in the blue and golden uniform bowed slightly to take the plate and his name caught Mundy's eye.

Antonio Sanchez

His eyes popped wide and went back to the young man's face. His skin was darker than Mundy. He had a short, black beard, neatly cut black hair and seemed only a bit younger than Mundy himself. Sanchez spun on his heels and went away.

That was it! Mundy now had a visual! He knew what the guys looked like! He couldn't follow him in the restaurant but at least he knew his face.

Mundy waited for the singer to finish and the crowd to applaud. He rose from his seat and went back to the counter. He paid what he owed and left to his van.

When the cold night air hit his skin, Mundy took a deep breath and put his hand on his chest. Ooh, he had needed that air, where had it all gone?!

He walked for quite a while. He didn't want the van to be spotted and noticed. And an old van in a parking lot surrounded by Italian cars just wouldn't do…!

Mundy let the van drive him back to where he was himself again: the lake. When she braked and parked, he threw the bowtie on the passenger’s seat as well as the ribbon and elastic band from his hair, freeing his brown wavy locks. He sighed as he did so. He hadn’t realised that it was constricting him so tightly.

He spent his night on his bed as lightly dressed as he could. The suit had been a nightmare to wear but the music had made it somewhat bearable.

#tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #sniperspy #SBT

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blu-joons · 5 years ago

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He Confesses To You ~ Kim Seokjin

Prompts: 68, 104

With another tour coming to a close, you couldn’t wait to have Jin back with you. You’d waited almost three months to have your best friend come back home, and now he finally was. As soon as he arrived at your flat, it felt like he’d never been away.

The two of you laid out across your sofa with a movie playing in the background. Neither of you were paying attention however, thrilled to be back in each other’s company.

“I’m so happy to be home, I forget sometimes how much I miss all this,” he smiled, playfully nudging your arm, giggling away to himself in bliss.

“The house is always so quiet without you, and you don’t even live here. It is nice to have you home though, I certainly missed you.”

A small blushed grew on his face as his eyes looked down at you, “so cute.”

You smirked, nudging your hip against his. At times, the two of you could definitely be mistaken for children, always play fighting and playing practical jokes.

Since before his Bangtan days the two of you had been inseparable, growing up on the same street, attending the same school, you couldn’t remember a time without Jin in your life.

“Have you been dating any boys whilst I’ve been away?” He asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. You gasped, quickly shaking your head. “I bet there must have been one or two.”

“Seriously, I’ve not been on a single date whilst you’ve been away,” you assured him, “why? Have you been hooking up with girls on tour? Got any juicy stories that you want to share with me from your antics. Or the boys for that matter?”

“Not me. I’m waiting for the right girl to come along, I don’t care about stupid flings,” he smiled, brushing his hands through his fringe, adjusting it so it sat perfectly having caught it in the reflection on the mirror.

You couldn’t help but chuckle sometimes at how absorbed he was in his appearance, sure, he had his worldwide handsome nickname to live up to you, but not around you. To you, he was always Kim Seokjin, the boy from four doors down.

“This tour’s been weird for me, I’ve had a lot of time to think, and reflect. A lot has changed for me,” he admitted, tilting his head so it aligned with yours. “Except for you, you’ve never changed.”

You giggled lightly, but he wanted to be serious, just for a moment. “I try not to change, I like to be a piece of home for you when you come back. Remind you where you’ve come from and to keep those feet firmly on the ground. Your ego is big enough sometimes.

He fell silent, barely able to muster a smile, confusing you. You searched into his eyes, but they fell to the floor, as he let go of a deep breath. “Jin?” You questioned, jolting his arm, shaking him from whatever daydream it was that he’d fallen into.

“Oops, sorry,” he smiled, “don’t mind me.”

“What was that all about? You always laugh at me.”

“No, it’s not you. I guess I’m just still thinking, about a lot of things from tour.”

He shifted his broad frame so it faced you on the sofa, as his hand rested on your thigh. Whilst you were still puzzled as to what was going on, Jin knew he’d put himself in a situation where he needed to talk. His time for reflecting was over, now it was time to act.

“I’m trying to find a way to tell you something, it’s just really hard,” he muttered, shaking his head.

You sighed, resting your arm on his bicep. “I’m your best friend, you can talk to me about anything. Just try, I’m right here listening.”

He smiled softly, whenever he needed to talk to someone, it was always you. But now, somehow, he found himself at a loss for words. He stumbled over his words a couple of times before forcing himself to talk, before he changed his mind.

“Jin,” you whispered, as you grew more concerned, cupping the side of his face. “Look at me, and talk to me, whatever it is, I am right here for you.”

“I know,” he replied, looking up to your eyes. “The thing is, being away from you for a while has got me thinking. About us. I know we’re best friends, but I think I’m falling in love with you Y/N. I’ve tried to find someone else, but it always goes back to you. You’re the one I want.”

His heart pounded as he waited for a response from you. “I think it’s always been you too Jin, but I’m scared. It’s one thing being your best friend, but it’s another thing being your girlfriend and having to face all the judgment and the lifestyle.

He nodded, completely understanding what you were saying. “I need you right now, more than ever. I know it’s scary, but I’m always going to be right there with you.”

“Of course, you will,” you smiled, “I just feel like it’s such a big step, suddenly exposing myself to the world. How do you think everyone is going to react? It’s going to get so much attention.”

“I don’t care, their opinions don’t matter to me.”

He nudged your arm, as the corners of your mouth turned up. “Has it really always been me? You’ve not just been rejected by loads of fans and now you’re stuck to find a girlfriend.”

His head shook, as he poked his tongue out at your humour. One date, was all he’d been on, lasting only an hour. As the food came out at the restaurant, his mind wandered to you, he couldn’t do it to himself, or her, he had to get out. You were always the one playing on his mind.

“I can’t face the world without you by my side, not just as a friend, but as a partner. No one is there for me like you are, you’re the only person in the world who always has my back.”

“You do realise how big of a risk we’re taking?” You questioned.

He shook his head, wrapping his arms around you. “It’s only a risk if we let it be. It’s only ever been you, and nothing will change that. I promise that I will always be there for you. There’s no risk, just love. I will protect you and love you, just like I always have.”

“Jin,” you giggled, “I don’t know how you convince me sometimes, but you’ve done it again. If we can take it slow, and if things get too scary, take a step back, then I think there is something between us worth fighting for. I feel exactly the same way that you do.”

He was right, the two of you had been the best of friends, but maybe there was something more. You’d never wanted any other guy in your life, it was always Jin. Not once did anyone else cross your mind, it always went back to him.

“I promise I will look after you, you’re safe with me.”

“I know. And I wouldn’t have it any other way,” you smiled.”

---

Masterlist

#jin #bts #jin imagine #bts imagine #kim seokjin #bts fluff #bts angst #bts drabble #bts one shot #bangtan #bangtan sonyeodan #kpop #kpop imagine #kpop fluff #seokjin #jin drabble #jin fluff #jin one shot

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imthequeenofcordonia · 5 years ago

Text

Coming home

This is my contribution to @emceesynonymroll wacky drabbles. The prompt is: I’ll be home in an hour.

I’m also using prompt 15 of @choicesfebruarychallenge hosted by @bi-cookie and @cxld-play the prompt is Heartbreak. Sorry this is day late.

Paring: Drake x OC (Lily Rys)

Word count: 5, 792 (I went a tad bit over 1,000 words)

Warnings: Car crash, angst.

A/N: All characters belong to Pixelberry other than Lily.

Permatag: @desiree---1986

Drake and lily tags: @addictedtodrakefanfic, @msjr0119 @drakewalker04

Masterlist

Lily was roused by her slumber by that god awful, high pitched, screeching alarm blaring from her phone. She felt Drake also stir next to her, she grumbled some profanities under her breath and rolled out of Drake’s embrace to pick up her phone off the bedside table.

She quickly pressed the button to turn the horrible thing off then went into the alarm app to disable the alarm altogether- there were much better ways to wake up.

She yanked and turned back on to get side to look at her fiance. “Can you believe we’re getting married in two days?” she asked, with the biggest grin on her face she had ever had.

“What between the interviews and preparations? Yeah, I can.”

“Bit early for sarcasm,” she teased.

“It’s never too early. I can’t wait to marry you either, soon to be Mrs. Walker.”

“Lily Walker,” she said, “I like it.”

Drake nodded, “Good. That’ll be your name in the next forty eight hours.”

“I can’t wait,” she grinned. “We better get up,” she told him, “There’s a lot to do today.”

“Are you still going to Liv’s tonight?”

“Yep,” she nodded, “I’m going to come back late tonight though. There’s a few things I want to do tomorrow and I won't have time to do them on our wedding day,” she explained, throwing the covers off of her and climbing out of the bed.

Drake and Lily both took a shower, got dressed then headed down to the dining room for breakfast.

When they arrived her brothers and Regina were already sitting at the table having a conversation over breakfast. They all looked up at her when they ended the dining room.

“Morning,” Lily smiled. Her eyes widened when they set hers on her eldest brother. “What are you doing here?” she asked.

“As if i’d miss my little sister’s wedding,” Leo grinned, as he got to his feet and pulled her into a hug then turned and greeted Drake.

After the pleasantries were done with the couple and Leo sat down.

She turned to Leo. “I wanted to ask you something”

“Oh yeah?” he joked , his eyebrow raised.

She took a deep breath, suddenly very nervous. “Erm...I- Because Dad isn't here anymore,” She started, feeling the tears starting to well.

“I’ll do it,” Leo smiled at her, knowing what she was asking him to do.

“Really?” she asked.

“Of course,” he nodded, “It’s either me or Liam: i’m obviously the better choice.”

She shook her head at him with a grin.

“Good,” she said, clapping her hands together and ignoring her brother’s comment. “At least that’s sorted but there’s still so many things to do and-”

She felt Drake put his hand on her arm which made her stop rambling, “Chillax a bit,” he advised, “It’s all going to be fine.”

She twisted her head to look at him, glaring she said, “You say that now but what if it doesn't go all according to plan? There’s so many things that can go wrong…”

“Lil,” Leo said, prompting her to look at him, “Get a grip.”

She scowled at him and then nodded. “So, what are you guys doing tonight?”

Lily knew for Drake’s bachelor was going to be having a drink with Liam and the rest of his friends but she assumed that because Maxwell had planned the evening it was going to be a little bit more exciting than that.

“What are you doing?” Leo asked.

“Going to Lithikos to see Liv and some friends from school.”

Leo grimaced, “Yeah, your rich, stuffy, noble friends.”

She smirked at him, “At least I have friends.”

He stuck his tongue out at her. Regina shook her head, taking a sip of her tea then placed the cup back onto the saucer. “Must you two behave though you are children?” she asked.

The siblings face’s fell. “Sorry,” Leo mumbled.

“I’m sorry too. Of course you have friends,” Lily apologised, “They’re just imaginary,” she mumbled under her breath.

For the most part, the rest of breakfast went smoothly. They all changed meaningless small talk with one another, trying to stay clear of talking about the wedding because they were all very, very aware of how stressed the princess was over it.

After they had finished they each went their separate ways. Lily had a engagement to read to some kids at a library so she headed to the boutique, deciding on a floral dress and some black high heels to match. After she was all ready she headed out to the waiting SUV.

This would be the last engagement she would be having before her wedding in two days time and for another two weeks after.

The entire Cordonian public and beyond were ecstatic about the wedding. The couple were getting so much support from worldwide. It seemed to be becoming a very common thing amongst royal families across the world, for the prince or princess to marry a commoner. There was some backlash about Lily marrying a commoner, but that was inevitable. She was sure even if she was marrying somebody of nobility there would be some negative comments. Lily loved Drake and really that was the only thing that mattered.

Lily’s job was to support her people, to listen to them, above all else. She was to do her duty and put it above any other desire and she had spent many, many years putting the country first but now it was time to put herself first.

Anton made out that her brother having emotions, feeling love and empathy and all the rest of it made him weak, but lily had started to learn that having someone to fight for makes you all the stronger, makes you fight harder. Without it because what’s the point of fighting, especially if you don't know what you’re doing it for?

The couple had been dating for a long time now, nearly six years, because she didn't want to drag him into the royal life if he wasn’t ready. She wanted to give him a chance to leave if he wanted but he didn't.

Lily arrived at the place. She looked out the window as the car pulled to a stop at the crowd behind barriers and the cameras flashing. Her door was opened and she stopped out, being immediately greeted with people screaming and cheering and camera after camera clicking.

She gave the onlookers a smile and a wave then headed in- her bodyguard, Mike, trailing a respectful distance behind her.

She met with the owner who thanked her endlessly for coming to do this. Lily thought she was a sweet woman, she had met her when she was a child when her mother, Queen Eleanor, took her and Liam to the library.

Lily had told the woman it really was no problem and she was so very happy to do it. The children that were there were from a school in the capital and were learning all about Cordonian history.

Their teacher knew Lily. She had worked at the all girls school that Lily attended growing up. Miss Murphy was her favourite teacher she ever had and when she asked very nicely if Lily would come and read with her class, she agreed.

She could have easily said ‘no’ given she was forty-eight hours away from her wedding but Lily always put people first.

Lily had seen all the hard work the children had been doing. They were asked to make a poster each about The Royal Family, which Lily thought were amazing. One girl, Liliana, had drawn a picture of Lily which was incredible. She was taken aback just by how talented that little girl was.

Lily had also agreed, with the her brother’s blessing, to go and visit the other schools after the wedding and everything had settled down so it would be fair.

The kids didn't know who was coming to see them.

Their mouths dropped when they saw the princess make her way in, greeting Miss Murphy then the TA’s from the class and took a seat, picking up the book the class had selected.

“Hello,” Lily smiled, giving the class a wave who all still looked quite unsure of themselves. “I promise i don't bite.”

Liliana stood and curtsied to the princess. The girl stood there and looked around at her friends, “She’s a princess, you have to curtsy to her,” she told them.

“Liliana, isn't it?” Lily asked, prompting the girl to look at her. She nodded, gulping. “It’s amazing you know the proper protocol but you don't have to. You can sit down.”

The girl looked at Lily and she nodded. With a nod of her own she took a seat back down on the floor. “How do you know my name?” She asked.

“I know all of your names. I wanted to learn them before I came to see you all,” Lily explained.

“Do you know what my name is?” A little boy asked. His cheeks flushed red when Lily turned to him.

“Rupert,” She said. In fairness there were only fifteen children in the class but Lily wanted to know their names. She always prepared for engagements. She was viewed as one of the most hardworking royals.

“You’re getting married soon,” A little girl with pigtails and freckles called out. Lily turned to her, trying to remember her name.

“That’s right, Jane.” The girl’s mouth widened. “I told you I knew all your names. Now, I said to Miss Murphy before I read I would answer some questions, so go ahead, but remember to put your hand up and wait your turn.”

All the classes hands shot up. Lily pointed to a little girl with red hair and wearing some rectangular framed glasses. “What’s it like to be a princess?” she asked.

Lily smiled, “I’ll tell you all a secret: being a princess is amazing but it comes with a lot of responsibility and you have to work hard.”

Jane smiled and Lily turned to a black haired boy sitting in the front row, “Rhys?”

“You really do know everyone’s names,” the boy gushed. “I wanted to know how many rooms are in the palace?”

“That’s a hard one,” Lily said, thinking over the question,”There are about 743 rooms- I think. Don't quote me on that, although I've only been in an fraction of them, not even that. The palace is huge, if you wander around you run the risk of getting lost,” she explained.

Next Lily called on another boy, who looked as if he was bursting to ask his question. “Were you scared when the bad people broke into the palace?”

Although the smile stayed on Lily’s face that’s no longer how she felt on the inside. Flashes of her father dying crossed in her mind. Miss Murphy was about to jump in but Lily answered, “Yeah, I was,” she nodded, “I was very, very scared but i had lots of guards to protect me.”

“Don't you think that is kind of selfish? Having people risk their lives to save yours?” A boy, who spoke rather posh asked. She turned to him, watching him pushing his glasses back up his nose. Suddenly with the Princess’s eye’s on him he seemed to become quite nervous.

“Yes,” she nodded, “I would, of course, prefer nobody to risk their lives to save mine, but I also think they are very, very brave to do something like that. I’m not sure if I would be brave enough. What the guards do is formidable and I don't think we appreciate them as much as we should. Take Mike for example,” she said, nodding to her guard, “He risks everything to protect me, he’s brave, honourable and is generally a very nice guy. The guards appear tough and everything else but at the end of the day they’re human, they are amazing human beings to do what they do-”

“Drake saved the queen,” a girl called out.

“He did. Drake is brave. He didn't have to do that, he didn't need to push the Queen out the way but he did it because he is selfless, because he is willing to do whatever he needs to do to protect people he cares about and i think that is one of the most phenomenal qualities people can have,” she explained, “Now let’s have one more question and then we’ll read and if we have time, we can have some more at the end.”

The group's hands all shot back up. Lily this time turned to Liliana. The girl smiled and nodded gratefully, clearing her throat. “Most people go through their lives with only one monarch but that all changed when King Liam was crowned. You, Princess Lily, have lived through quite a few things that will go down in history, Prince Leo abdicating, Prince Liam becoming the King, I wanted to know how differently you think the new king will reign. I know we’re nearly seven years into his reign but i wanted to know what you think he’s doing differently to King Father Constantine?” The girl asked. Lily was taken aback by the question, by how well spoken the girl was.

“I think every Monarch takes something from their predecessor but it’s up to them how they wish to rule. My brother is kind, where my father was cruel, he’s loving but my father was not. What you have to understand is that no one waits around to become King or Queen, it's not a job people want but that person takes it in their stride and rules to the best of their ability. It’s like an art in a sense or any skill, it takes time to master, it takes attempt after attempt, failure after failure, until you learn what works and what doesn't, but it’s something you have to master quickly because it’s people’s lives you’re playing with, this is where you take the things you learned from watching others rule and adapt it to your own rein. I’m not a monarch, nor will i ever be but i watched two extraordinary men take on the reigns of being king, of ruling this country and I know my father did everything he could and like i know my brother will too,” she explained, receiving an applause from the adults and children alike in the room.

Lily looked down at the book- it was the twits by Roald Dahl. She grinned down at it, she loved this book when she was a kid, she wondered if she and Drake would end up pranking each other.

Lily read through the entire book, the children jumping in now and again reading parts of their own. After they had finished the book Lily answered some more questions. They were just mostly about what it was like being a princess and growing up in the palace, how many balls there are in a months, what her favourite ball gown she had ever worn and trivial things like that.

After she was done, Lily and Mike headed back outside to the waiting SUV. The driver, Graham, who was an absolutely lovely man opened Lily’s car door for her, with one last sweet wave at the crowd she climbed into the car and buckled up her seat belt.

They were on the way back to the palace when Mike turned to look back at her, “I really appreciate everything you said back there, Your Highness.”

Lily smiled at him, “We’ve talked about this, Mike. You can call me Lily. We’ve worked together for a long time, I think we’re okay to be on a first name basis, don't you?”

The guard nodded and turned back to face forward.

Soon they arrived back at the palace and Lily headed straight to her quarters to get changed for her night with Olivia.

She went straight to her closet looking at her dresses. For a princess she didn't actually own many dresses, she really didn't like wearing them if not for a public engagement or ball, but her bachelorette party definitely called for one.

She pulled down a simple little black dress, a Gcui belt and some shimmery black heels and matching clutch.

She laid her outfit down on the bed then headed to do her makeup.

Yes, getting changed after doing her makeup ran the risk of her messing it up but she had learned if she was wearing black it was for the best she got changed afterwards. She was messy and it was a nice dress.

Lily soon got changed, nearly having an argument with her zipper that she couldn't quite reach, but other than that the process went off without a hitch.

By the time she had arrived back at the palace it was late afternoon, so she needed to hurry if she was going to stick to the schedule Olivia had made and she had learned it’s best not to piss Olivia Nevrakis off. She was scary and owned a lot of daggers that she didn't really want to be impaled with.

With one last look in the mirror and running her fingers through her golden locks, she headed on out and down the grand staircase.

Answering the kids questions earlier that day really had made her realise how incredibly fortunate she was. She really was lucky, not just because she was a princess but because she had an incredible family, her job was phenomenal- she loved helping people and she was marrying the love of her life in less than forty-eight hours, it just couldn't get much better than that.

She knew Drake, her brothers and their friends were in the dining room and she wanted to say bye before she went, so that’s where she headed.

She was confused when she arrived at the open doors and could only hear Leo’s voice coming from inside, “...hurt her and I will kill you…”��

She headed in, glaring up at her brother, “Touch him and I’ll kick your ass,” she smirked up at her brother.

She walked over to Drake who wrapped an arm around her waist as she leaned up and placed a kiss on his lips, then pulled back. “I was just coming to say bye. Where is everyone?”

Leo shrugged, “Li is finishing up a meeting, Maxwell said something about an incessant amount of alcohol, Ri is god knows where and Hana is getting changed- apparently she threw a drink at Neville and he threw one back at her.”

Lily let out a laugh,” Seriously?”

Drake nodded, “Yeah, it was funny. Serves him right for being a prat though. Who knew council meetings were that fun?”

“Why was Neville there?”

“He was pitching something, I think. It’s either that or he wanted to annoy everyone. Maybe both,” Drake pondered.

Lily looked down at her watch and Drake actually looked at her since she came in, noticing just how beautiful she was. Just then- Mike came in, greeted the boys and turned to Lily.

They exchanged a quick conversation and drake continued to stare at her. Leo stepped closer to him, “That’s my sister.”

“My fiance,” Drake said, smirking up at the oldest Rys sibling.

“Fair enough,” Leo mumbled. Lily finished her conversation with Mike, who quickly retreated out the room and she turned back to her brother and fiance. Leo unexpectedly pulled her into a hug, she tapped him on the back.

“What’s this for?”

Leo pulled back, looking down at her, “What a guy can’t give his sister a hug now and again?”

“What have you done?” She asked, looking up at him seriously.

He rolled his eyes at her.

“Nothing, i’m just happy for you.”

Lily grinned at him and turned to look down at her watch, “I need to get going. So ‘bye’ to Li and everyone for me?”

Leo nodded, “Yep. Go, you don't want to piss Liv off.”

After giving Drake one last kiss and giving her brother another hug she headed out and into the waiting SUV.

She arrived in Lithikos later that evening, after a nearly two hour drive, making her way out the SUV quickly and into the warmth sanctuary of Olivia’s imposing yet stunning home.

Olivia answered the door and welcomed the young princess into her home. Mike and Graham, since they were not needed headed to a local pub for a meal while Lily had some fun.

Olivia and Lily walked into the drawing room where three other women were already sitting drinking. They all halted their conversation and seemed to perk up at seeing Lily. The three of the stood up and hugged Lily.

The women had all attended Lily’s school. Leo had a point when he called them rich and stuffy- they were but much less pompous than Neville.

Lily turned to a blonde woman wearing a purple off the shoulder dress. Her name was Mira, they got along well and they were in all the same classes with each other. They met in preschool, hitting it off almost immediately and they had been friends ever since. Lily smiled and said hello.

The next woman she turned too was a brunette haired woman with her hair tied up into a bun, wearing a black pantsuit and some matching heels. Her name was Veronica, but preferred Ronnie.

The third was a red haired woman wearing a royal blue shiny knee-length, off the shoulder dress with some matching heels. Her name was Catherine. They had only met during Lily’s final year of school, when Catherine’s family moved to Cordonia, when her father was offered a job. All three women came from very wealthy and respected families.

The five women took a seat and Ronnie topped up her, Catherine, Mira and Olivia’s glasses of champagne then poured Lily a fresh one. They all clinked their flutes together.

“To Lily!” Mira, Catherine and Veronica cheered.

Veronica turned to Olivia, noticing she didn't join in. “Liv you have to”

Olivia sighed, turning to the princess, “To Lily,” she said, holding up her glass before taking a sip from it.

Lily smiled and gave her friend an appreciative nod.

The rest of the evening went smoothly, the women all caught up and talked about the upcoming royal wedding.

A few hours and a lot of alcohol later, Mike came back to inform the princess of the time and that they should probably leave then if she didn't want to get back to the palace too late.

Lily said goodbye to Mira, Catherine and Veronica saying she’d see them tomorrow as the three of them were to be her bridesmaids at Applewood where the ceremony was going to be performed. It was a little unethical and against royal tradition but that place meant a lot to Lily and so her brother allowed it. She already had some many memories there and this was just going to add to them.

An hour later, Lily and Olivia sat in the back of the SUV giggling Graham and Mike exchanged a look as the princess and duchess continued their laughing fit.

Lily unclipped her seat belt and leaned forward, “Mike,” she said, her voice slurred.

He turned to face her, “Yes?”

“Where’s my phone?” She asked, leaning forward on her elbows.

“It’s in your purse,”he told her, “I think you should put your seat belt back on,” the guard advised.

“Yeah,” she nodded, tapping him on the nose then leaned back, struggling to clip her belt back into place. She huffed when she couldn't do it letting it go and reaching for her purse, unclipping the buckle and rummaging for her phone instead.

“What are you doing?” Olivia asked. As Lily shook her phone trying to get it open, the duchess laughed, taking the phone from her and grabbing Lily’s thumb pressing it down onto the home button.

“Oh,” Lily mumbled, “That’s how you do it.”

Lily took the phone back from Olivia tapping the contacts button but it didn't open straight away. She started tapping at it with more force getting frustrated. “It’s broken,” Lily slurred, looking to Olivia for help.

Olivia sighed and took the phone back from her again, “Who do you want to phone?”

“Drakey,” Lily said, giving her friend a smile as Liv cringed at the nickname. She scrolled down to Drake’s name and pressed the call button. She held it against Lily’s ear, not trusting her not to mess it up.

“He’s not picking up,” Lily mumbled.

It rang a few more times until Drake answered. “Lil?”

“Hello Drakey,” She said, Drake not missing how her voice slurred.

“Hello,” Drake said, trying to hold back his laughter as he put his phone on speaker.

“I’ll be home in an hour.”

“Two hours,” Mike corrected.

“Two hours apparently,” Lily said, glaring at her guard, “According to erm…”

“Mike?” Drake suggested, recognising the man's voice in the background.

“Yeah, that's it,” Lily yelled, pumping her fists into the air, “You’re so clever!” She heard Drake start to chuckle and her brother’s in the background. “What are you doing?” Lily asked, once again slurring her words.

“Are you drunk Lil?”

“No,” she insisted, shaking her head even though Drake wouldn't be able to see it. “Maybe you’re drunk.”

Drake laughed, “Maybe a little bit,” he agreed. “You’re on the way back?” Lily hummed her answer. “I’ll see you soon.”

“I love you Drakey.”

They were driving along narrow country lanes, making all the twists and turns as rain pitter-pattered against the car, making the journey along the road more treacherous, the headlights being the only thing to light their way as they went.

“I love you too,” Drake said after a second.

Lily heard her oldest brother in the background saying ‘awww’ and laughing, then heard Drake tell him to shut up.

Lily leaned back, taking the phone from Olivia and holding it against her own ear. “I can’t wait to marry you.”

“I can't wait to marry you either,” Drake replied, Lily able to tell he was smiling as he said so.

Graham rounded a sharp bend, the right back wheel clipping a pothole sending the car out of balance and set it careering towards a grass embankment . He fought with the wheel to regain control but the already wet roads made that nearly impossible as soon as the wheel clipped the embankment it through his hands off the steering wheel with an extremely jarring force. Lily screamed, dropping her phone as Graham continued to fight for control, grabbing the wheel and turning it with all of his strength, somehow managing to get it back onto the road and not take it over the railing that was separating the road and the 60ft drop on the other side.

The car skidded back onto the tarmac as another car came around the next corner heading straight for their car but he managed to swerve out of the way slamming into a nearby tree.

The force from it sent Lily straight through the windscreen narrowly missing Graham and Mike as she slammed through the glass and falling down a hill, feeling thorns scratch her skin and the cuts all over her body sting.

Finally she stopped rolling, tangled in roots and thorns, laying unmoving. Her whole body hurt. She tried to move but couldn't. She could hear the horn blaring from the distance but soon that faded into nothing as her eyes closed.

Meanwhile, Drake was starting to panic, he had heard Lily scream...then nothing. A million things were racing through his head. He looked up at his friends- his soon to be brother in laws, everyone having an equally worried expression on their faces.

“Drake?” Riley asked, stepping toward her friend.

Drake turned away from her, his heart hammering in his ear as he ran out the dining room, yelling for Bastien. He rounded a corner, stopping in his tracks when he noticed tears running down his cheeks.

“Drake?”

“S-something’s happened. I- I don't know what-I- Lily- She and then….” he stuttered, he looked up meeting Bastien’s steely grey eyes.

“It's okay,” Bastien told him, “I’m going to go and find out what happened okay?” Drake nodded and then the guard took off, presumably heading to his office.

Drake turned around facing all his friend.

“I’m sure she’s okay,” Maxwell said, trying but failing to reassure his friend. Drake glared at Maxwell telling him now wasn't the time.

Riley stepped forward, placing a hand on his shoulder, surprised when he didn't shrug it off. “We’re supposed to be getting married in two days,” Drake whispered but Riley heard.

She pulled one of her best friends into a hug. They all heard Lily scream and then some kind of thud then, like Drake had said, nothing.

Nearly half an hour later Bastien returned. The guard could hide his emotions well but not this time. Drake stopped pacing to face him. Bastien struggled to meet his gaze.

“I think you should all sit down,” Bastien advised.

Leo stepped forward, “Bas, what are you trying to say?”

“I really think-”

“JUST SAY IT!” Drake bellowed, “Just- just tell us. Please,” he begged.

“Okay,” Bastien nodded, “Lily’s car was involved in a collision.”

“And?” Liam encouraged.

“And I don't have all the details yet. Graham, Lily’s driver is talking with the police now.”

“Is she okay?” Drake cut him off, “Is my fiancee okay?”

“It’s believed she wasn't wearing her seat belt but that’s yet to be confirmed as i said, Graham is speaking with the police currently.” Drake looked at him with pleading eyes. Bastien chose his next words carefully, knowing that the news was going to change Drake’s life forever. “Lily was thrown from the vehicle when it hit a tree. She was found a little way down a nearby embankment. The paramedics announced her DOA,” he explained.

Drake shook his head, “No,” he mumbled, turning back to glaring at Bastien. “No! You’re lying! Please, please tell me you’re lying Bastien.”

“I wish that I were,” Bastien said calmly.

“W-we’re getting married! We’re supposed to spend the rest of our lives together!” Bastien stepped towards Drake but he stepped back. “Please.”

“I’m sorry, Drake.”

Maxwell looked up at Bastien, tears falling down his cheeks, “How’s liv and Mike? You said Graham was talking with the police?”

“Yes,” Bastien nodded, “Duchess Olivia has refused to be treated at the scene and has requested a car to bring her back here. Mike, however, is on his way to the hospital as we speak, he was unconscious when the medics arrived. Graham too is on his way to the hospital to get checked out and hopefully continue to give a statement to the police.”

“I want to see her,” Drake demanded.

“Drake, I really don't think that’s such a good idea. From what i’ve been told-”

“I DON’T CARE!” he interrupted, “I want to see her.”

Bastien looked at Liam who was being held up by his wife. This was his little sister. Liam nodded, taking in a breath, “Let him see her.”

“Okay,” Bastien nodded, turning to glance at Leo then back to Drake. “Are you sure about this?” He nodded.

He knew he’d never be ready but this was something he needed to do.

Soon Drake, Liam, Leo and Bastien made the drive to Lythikos general where Lily’s body was being taken too, along with Mike and Graham but Drake didn't really care about them.

He was angry at Mike, his job was literally to protect her and he failed to do that. Failed to keep the love of his life safe. Deep, deep down he knew it wasn't his fault but...he wanted someone to blame.

The four men were led in through the back entrance. None of them were exactly inconspicuous and they really didn't want the press to be getting involved. They all knew that the people deserved to know but they all deserved time to mourn their family member.

Once they were in they were led to the chapel by a lovely nurse that only Bastien acknowledged but she understood they were grieving.

Everyone decided that Drake should be the first one to go and see her. It was only right.

He hesitated to open the door. This wasn't right in less than forty eight hour she was supposed to be walking down an aisle to him and that’d be the start of their happily ever after. Their life together.

Bastien stepped forward and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You don't have to do this.”

“I know.” Drake took in a deep, steadying breath and pushed the heavy wooden door opened, letting it fling shut behind him.

He kept his eyes on the floor, scared of what he might see, scared to look at her. He was still holding on to the tiniest bit of hope that there’d been a mistake, that it wasn't his Lily laying on the table in front of him.

Slowly he looked up, his chocolate brown eyes landing on her lifeless body. He choked out a sob as he made his way towards her. As he got closer he could see cuts and bruises scattered across her bare arms. He found himself wondering what was beneath the white sheet covering the rest of her if just her arms looked that bad.

He hadn't looked at her face yet. He couldn’t. Just her arms looked as if they’d taken a hell of a battering. After he’d braced himself he glanced up at her beautiful face except it wasn't like it was earlier that day. All the blood had been cleaned from the multiple deep lacerations on her face. He could tell she’d gone through the windscreen head first, lets just put it that way. But beneath all of that, beneath the cuts and bruises it was her. His lily. The love of his life.

Drake let out another sob as he grabbed her hand, it feeling colt in his grasp. She’d been dead for nearly three hours now. He thought that he’d have felt something, maybe and ache in his chest when she died but he didn't. He felt nothing when she was taken from him.

He gripped her small hand in both of his, willing it to warm up, to squeeze his hand back. He let go of it with one hand, stroking his hand through her hair, noticing that she had lacerations on her head too as he tried to avoid them. He knew she wouldn’t feel it but...it made him feel better.

“It’s okay, Lil, I’m here now,” he whispered, “It’s all going to be okay. I’m here.”

#wacky drabbles #choicesfebruarychallenge #drake x oc #choices: stories you play #trr fanfic #trr drake

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raleigh-ocean · 5 years ago

Text

bonnie and clyde's homebody's days | part 1 | natasha romanoff x sharon carter

words: 5,050

summary: Every day she spent by Sharon’s side, made Natasha realize how little she knew about her but at the same time how much she could actually understand about the woman. However, Sharon realized exactly the same about the Black Widow.

But now that they were together —for what it seemed a long time—, they could actually fix everything in their own weird way. Being homebodies together seemed a really good way to get to know each other better.

And Natasha liked it.

Because that was everything she wanted from a long time ago.

n/a: i had this story on my ao3 for a really long time and I thought maybe posting it here will make me want to keep writing it, because I had such good feelings about it...so here you have the first chapter while I write the third part of ashes to ashes!

part 1: homecoming

Her whole body ached from holding on the adrenaline, but she had to in order to get the job done. During the day, she had been getting every bit of intel she could get from the neighborhood people, playing the innocent soon-to-be-neighbor that wants to know a bit the whole place before finally moving in. It was good to not feel like everyone was about to jump over her back, ready to delate her and arrest her.

Running her fingers through her now short hair, she wondered if it was even a good idea. She was going to shoot her, in the best case, but she could get away from it with her natural gift of the gab. But she was going to beat her up, oh yeah, and it was going to hurt...for a day, maybe, two if she shoot her.

She looked up at the apartment block from the terrace where she was sat at. The last one was hers, she studied the whole place from her laptop when she did some research field at the station. Escaping from Berlin was the easiest thing she ever did, but as much as she wanted to not be noticed, being the worldwide-known-redhead didn’t help her a bit. With luck she had managed to reach Belarus before anyone notice her, but then a few agents from the Interpol tried to casually knock her down. The idea of dying her hair wasn’t really attractive but it was for the best. Another thing that she didn’t like at all. She really hated blonde, with every drop of her whole being, only liking it on her.

Sharon’s blonde wasn’t that light. It was way darker, caramel-like.

Hers was almost white, platinum, and she hated it even more thanks to her memories.

Gulping down the rest of her coffee, she prepared herself to climb to the top of the building. If she entered by the front door, then it would be so rookie of her. Like a mere burglar, too loud, too childish. Her backpack had only a few things she got to get before running away. Her laptop, her favorite pair of boots, a few of her toys and some clothes. She felt like a soldier, too little in her back and none to come back home to.

While climbing from the back alley, she remembered her trip. After Belarus she went to Russia right away, to clear her mind and find some old connections that would help her get some new documents and another intel she would need after parting ways with everyone she knew. For a second, around the fourth block, she had to stop. Hanging there from a balcony, thinking that she was alone now with none to care if she let herself fall from that high—she could hear Sharon already, giving her the scold of her life while she probably bleed to death, her brain all over the pavement.

But now there she was, in Finland, climbing Sharon’s apartment block to get in hers and be shoot by the same woman out of surprise. Lovely plan, she chuckled giving herself a last push in Sharon’s balcony.

The metal balcony was frozen, making her feet hurt from the cold that passed through her thin climbing shoes. Taking one of her toys out of her even thiner coat, the window lock gave in really easily. It was bloody cold out there, she hadn’t any bit of patience after being the whole day wandering around in that cold town Sharon decided to settle her safe place.

When her feet touched the carpet, she looked around to take a glimpse of the whole living room. Sharon wasn’t home, not yet at least, giving her a little time to think about what she was going to tell her.

She closed the window with care —trying to not be noisy anyway, out of habit— and when she turned around to start walking towards the lamp at the corner of the room, an iron fist met her jaw with a powerful hook.

Dizzy for a second, she managed to take a wrist and then throw a blind punch that landed right in someone’s shoulder. The attacker didn’t seem to feel it, because they threw another punch and then connected it with a side kick that she got to stop. The electricity shone for a second before her punch landed right in her attacker’s stomach, getting a shriek of pain from them. But that didn’t last much, because the attacker held her arm before kicking her ribs twice. With her last electric charge wasted, she tried to knock the attacker down with all her strength, jumping over them and encircling her legs to their neck before smash both fists in their head.

However as she was encircling her legs around their neck, the attacker put both hands in her thighs before spinning around and making her to lose her balance and land against the wall. That kicked the air out of her lungs immediately and quickly she was retained in a headlock. The attacker strength was enough to strangulate her now that she didn’t have much of hers to counterattack.

Feeling the lack of oxygen creeping into her, her hand wandered blindly around her till she got something and she smashed it in the head of her attacker, breaking free finally and rolling away from them.

In her head, every single bit of intel passed at light speed, only wondering if someone had found Sharon before her and they were going to get her right in the moment she steps in her apartment. She had to get rid off them before she came back home, she had to save her—

“Don’t you fucking dare to move,” she felt the cold bite of a gun in the middle of her forehead. The voice was twice as cold and a little click from the safety made her shiver. “Because I won’t hesitate on painting my wall with your head.”

She kept being still where she was, her brain stuck on what the attacker had said. Her voice was cold, yeah, but she could figure out a soft accent from someone that was too into getting unnoticed. And also, the remark on ‘my wall’ made her panic.

It was Sharon. Sharon was the attacker.

Before she could say something, they heard someone walking towards the front door. In the darkness, she saw Sharon put a finger over her lips to shush her. Whoever was behind the door, asked worriedly if Sharon was okay but the old lady —as she could discern perfectly- called her ‘Elisabetta’ instead of her real name. Sharon replied in loud italian, almost cheerful to match the lie that came with her words —bang her head? Against the shelf? And then knock off the wardrobe?— and waited a minute before pressing the gun a bit more against her skin. When the old lady went away after making Sharon promise that she will pass by her house next morning, to check if she was really okay, and she swore she had seen the determination to kill her in Sharon’s eyes.

Natasha never blurted out something that fast ever in her life.

“It’s me, Sharon. It’s me, please, don’t shoot,” for once she really felt her tears piling up in her eyes. “Put the safety on the loaded gun, baby. Put the safety on, damn it.”

Sharon kept the gun against her skin but her voice sounded different when she talked next.

“Natasha?” That was more warm and more like the Sharon she knew. “What are—bloody hell, Natasha.”

A weak smile rolled over Natasha’s lips but when Sharon turned on the light, the smile died. Sharon was bleeding from her head, the blood dripping over her right eye; her face had the pain painted all over it, matching with her right arm resting in her stomach; and her shoulder looked...off. Natasha was way less harm than her, only feeling a little ache in her throat and maybe she would have a bruise in her cheek from the punch.

Her dark brown hair was just an insignificant detail compared with the rest.

“When did you got this strong? Baby has some iron punches,” Natasha tried to brush the situation off, trying to play along with a smirk. “Are you going to keep pointing at me with the gun or would you like me to help you?”

Sharon’s face got even colder with the remark. Natasha knew that she didn’t let a spark of her shine for at least four or five months but now she was there, alive. When she heard the soft click from the safety, Natasha felt herself relax. But Sharon wasn’t, and her lips were pressed in a strong line before say something.

“You electrocuted me,” her hand tighten over her stomach, Natasha feeling a rush of guilty washing her from head to toe. “After barging in my apartment, four and half months without any trace of you or any of the others,” she wiped with shaking fingers some blood off her face. Natasha stood there, looking at her. “And the only thing you say is ‘baby has some iron punches’?”

“Would you be happier if I’d said ‘I’m home, my love’?” Natasha tried to sass her way out of Sharon’s building anger.

“I’d be okay without my butcher telling me there was this strange blonde woman acting all suspicious around town, creeping the shit out of everyone around the block,” Natasha hit the first strike just with her try of avoiding it. “Did you think for a second that I was myself hiding?”

“I thought you were here because the CIA wanted you here,” Natasha, don’t lie, it’s even worse if you do it. The little voice in her head was always so right in these cases. “You’re always the perfect one, babe.”

“After stealing government stuff, I was included in the same list as you all,” she tried to smile but she drop it immediately. “Not even a kiss from Captain America himself make any of this slightly better.”

Natasha felt cold, her whole body aching inside because of the confession.

“I thought you were satisfied with the Black Widow eating you out,” she felt the second strike as soon as those words left her mouth, Sharon’s eyes darting to hers menacing. “Next time I see that moron, you bet I’m going to crack his skull.”

“Your childish jealousy it’s making me dizzy, Romanoff,” she said coldly, letting the gun over the table and looking really pale at this moment. Natasha worried immediately, taking a few steps towards Sharon before she lifted her good arm to stop her. “I swear if you say something else to sass your way out from this, I’m kicking you out.”

“I smashed a crystal ashtray against your head, sweetie,” Natasha was serious now but she stopped when Sharon’s hand touch her belly. She could see her tears falling freely from her eyes and her hand gripped in Natasha’s thin coat. “I think you’ll need stitches.”

“What I need now is a glass of bourbon,” Sharon’s voice cracked as soon the words left her mouth. “And I won’t say no to a kiss, maybe.”

No third strike. Natasha kneeled in front of the other woman before pulling her into a kiss. It tasted salty but she didn’t care a single bit. She pulled away a little, letting out a soft chuckle that made Sharon flinch and let out a few more tears. With care, she wiped them with her thumbs before pressing her lips together again. This was what she loved from her girl. She could be ready to take her down one second and the next she could melt her insides, only being the big nervous ball of fluff she was under the facade of ‘agent’.

It took a couple more of minutes for Sharon to let go of her. Natasha stood up, going towards the cupboard to get a glass and pour the alcohol there. The strong drink made her grimace twist a bit, but when she saw her girl chug it as if was water she let out a muffled laugh. Her fingers ran through Sharon’s dark locks, checking the open wound before asking quietly where the first-aid kit was. Head wounds could be so scandalous, she thought while cleaning the cut placed in Sharon’s hair line. Natasha put her shoulder back after she had chug another glass of strong bourbon and, after checking the electroshock wasn’t going to make her have a heart attack, she proceeded to take care of the burnt in Sharon’s stomach.

“I like your hair,” those four words were followed by the brunette brushing with care Natasha’s short hair.

“I like yours too, silly,” a light chuckle before a kiss in her cheek. “I have to say this before I blurted it out in an inappropriate moment." Sharon tried to hold her head with her good hand. "Babe, you really look like you're her love child.”

Sharon smiled at that for a second and then she sighed deeply. The sigh gave Natasha the feeling that she didn't have to say that. There was something behind her behavior that she didn’t want to tell yet and Natasha knew it by the way she was trying to avoid eye contact. She understood, smiling warmly before making her lying down in the couch. She wasn’t going to go anywhere, but Sharon caught her hand before making her way to the kitchen. She didn’t look at her and Natasha had to be the one talking again.

“I’m starving, I thought it would be really cool if I make some supper for both,” she ran her thumb over Sharon’s back of the hand to calm her down.

“You won’t go, right?” Her voice was soft and cautious, not letting show more feeling that she already had shown. “You came here for a reason.”

Natasha leant one more time over Sharon to press a kiss in her forehead. It made her feel heavy inside when the other woman talked with that tiny voice. She had talked like that a few times in front of her, the last one in Berlin when they met briefly before everything went down hill, right after Peggy’s funeral. It was the girl behind the agent, the girl that caught her around her fingers when she didn’t notice, the girl that she was willing to give in every single time her brown eyes locked with hers.

“I thought you wanted to move in with me,” Natasha faked a hurt voice before keep talking with playfulness dripping in every word that left her mouth. Sharon’s hand slapped her thigh. “And no, I won’t go. We will have time tomorrow to talk, Bonnie, but for now let Clyde take care of you.”

Sharon chuckled something that seemed like ‘why are you always Clyde’, trying to sound more cheerful than the last interactions they had. However, from the kitchen, Natasha saw how she put her gun near her in the table. That little detail made her wonder about what the other woman had been put through during their separate time.

She didn't miss either how Sharon flinched slightly when she put the plate over the living room table.

...

Sitting cross-legged over the toilet, Natasha rubbed her temples with her fingers. It was nearly four in the morning, way after they decided that it was a really good idea to get some sleep. She took the couch for once in her life, trying to give Sharon some space to think alone. She decided not to ask for anything more than a shower, letting her desire of working in her laptop die when Sharon got pale with the mention of it.

Natasha was a nervous ball on daily basis, she couldn't stay still for five minutes without jumping into weird monologues or without start messing around with whoever was near her. It was something that came with her personality, it was Natalia trying to get out in someway. And lately these days, she felt more like Natalia than Natasha. That's why she was locked in the only bathroom of the apartment, trying to come up with something to finally stay still for what it seemed would be a long time.

She listed —helping herself with her fingers too— things that she knew already about Sharon. When she got a handful, she started to reduce the list to those she knew that drive Sharon mad. The first thing she had to do was to make the other woman comfortable before jumping on where they left it last time they saw each other.

For example, Sharon hated profusely how Natasha couldn't stop from pacing the room like a caged animal when she ran out from things to do. She couldn't stand either that her favorite hobby was both mounting and unmounting things in the apartment, with Sharon having to buy two microwaves and one hairdryer once Natasha stayed with her for a few months. The other thing was to actually help doing house chores, because after a few incidents and Sharon saying that it was okay, that she could handle it in her own, Natasha thought she could put a bit more of attention to it.

She sighed heavily, feeling her chest full of things she knew that drive Sharon mad even when they didn't talk about them. It was going to be a hard task, but she was decided to make it work. It was something she owed to Sharon, a normal life.

A normal life.

A soft chuckle got muffled against her hand before closing her eyes. It was impossible to have a 'normal' life with their profession, even more when they were being chased by federals and a few private security companies. Natasha wished to have Clint by her side, to ask him about how the fuck he managed to hide his whole family from all and maybe to have a shoulder to rely on. She trusted Steve and Sharon, but Clint was there for her always. And she missed him. She really missed him.

In the middle of the storm that was her head, someone made her come back to Earth. A quick knock in the bathroom door that made her jump in her feet and unlock the door.

Sharon was there, sleepy and puffy eyes, her —now, Natasha swallowed hard again— dark hair messier than the night before and her hand over her wounded shoulder.

"I thought you took to your heels when I fell asleep," her voice was a bit husky and she licked her lips absent minded.

“Why would I do that?” Natasha’s smirk hid her nervousness, leaning forward to kiss her nose.

“I don’t know, you always runaway in my dreams,” her hand brushed away some strands of Natasha’s hair before pulling her in a hug, taking in count not be harsh and make her own wounds worse. “I’m glad you didn’t this time.”

A soft last whisper on top her head. A warm embrace that lingered in Natasha’s body even when Sharon broke apart and passed by her to get in the shower.

...

She felt like an alien hours later, sitting by Sharon's side at her neighbor’s house. The Italian woman that had asked Sharon if she was okay the night before was making them breakfast, and Sharon didn't seem awkward by the whole situation. Natasha felt uncomfortable though, with a toddler and a young woman staring curious at her from the other side of the table.

Sharon felt familiar with the older woman around, speaking in almost perfect Italian. Another thing that Natasha found funny was the sweet coincidence. Sharon moved to Finland, to the other side of the world, just to make friends like an old Italian immigrant who married a Finnish man and now was taking care of her grand-daughter and her toddler.

However, Natasha liked how the elderly woman treat her favorite agent as if she was her grandchild too. Even though she had to muffle a giggle every time the woman callrd Sharon by 'Elisabetta'.

New identities were always fun. It was like playing a game you only knew.

And playing roles with Sharon was the best. Natasha was now Nadja Redford, proud girlfriend of Elizabeth Martinelli, which had traveled all the way to Finland because her parents kicked her out after coming out to them. Natasha let Sharon build the role for her, only talking a shade of rusty Italian when it was needed —she understands but it's a big deal to talk, Natasha was cracking up inside, knowing her Italian was way better than Sharon's. Although she was finding sexy Sharon's Brooklyn accent under all the effort she was putting into the facade.

When they were safe again behind Sharon's apartment door, Natasha finally burst into laughter after holding it up during the whole thing.

"Nadja Redford is going to be one of my favorite identities," she said, walking to the kitchen to get a glass of water, rubbing away the pain in her stomach due to the laughter. "You are good at coming up with ideas, but you didn't tell me a thing about yours, Miss Elizabeth Martinelli."

Sharon didn't say a thing for a few seconds, only staring at Natasha. Being with someone close to her after this long felt strange to her, but it was reassuring. It still feels unreal, even putting up all that lie to build Natasha’s persona, but with time she would find herself comfortable again. Even with Natasha talking like they were on a mission.

“Elizabeth Martinelli lost her father on a lab incident, mom tried to move on but she end up living with her Nonna, an old movie star that worked as a governmental secretary when she got too old for the scene,” Sharon let herself fall in the individual sofa, a soft smile curving her lips. “When her Nonna died, Elizabeth moved to Finland, landing a job at Stark Industries new project as a security guard. Never heard of her mom after her tenth birthday.”

“Your nonna was lit,” Natasha chuckled, walking towards her. “Stark Industries?”

“Yeah, it was. A sunshine on Earth, my grandaunt used to say,” Sharon welcomed her, feeling the burn on her stomach pulling a bit when the other woman got comfortable in her lap. “Pepper helped me, she was the only one I could contact after Berlin. We put everything together within two days, maybe, and I moved in here by the end of the week. She is the only one knowing I’m here...well, and now you too.”

“Now everything makes more sense, Tony wouldn’t let his guard down after Vanko’s fiasco. He was actually hurt by me lying and sticking my nose into his files,” another chuckle and Sharon took her hand. “I respect Pepper a lot, but she isn’t that skilled in making her files unreadable. I put some more security up after taking what I needed. We are more safe now.”

They stayed in silence for a while, only playing with their hands and Natasha kissing Sharon's knuckles from time to time. Those times when they only acted sweet towards each other were the best. But something clicked on Natasha's mind, something that needed to be ask now that she noticed. Later Sharon would ask her about how exactly she found her aside of sniffing around things that didn't concern her.

"Elizabeth's grandaunt or Sharon's grandaunt?" she mumbled, looking directly at Sharon's eyes.

"Grandaunt is the same for both," Sharon looked troubled for a second, even with a faint smile over her lips. "I'm not ready to talk about it, Natalia. I just want to know how did you find me and what do you actually want," Natasha felt out of breath with how fast everything changed in Sharon's behavior. "And I want it now. Spit it out."

Natasha fell to the floor when Sharon stood up, hitting slightly her head with the border of the couch. That was plainly rude, but she had a point. She appeared in the middle of the night, somewhere none but two persons knew about and she actually said 'yeah' when Sharon told her she knew there was a motive behind her doing all this.

When she finally stood up, Sharon was looking at her from the open plan kitchen. Her hands gripped over the counter and with nothing but her agent self showing in her eyes. She was about to joke about Sharon having her gun with her, when the other woman put her favorite one over the counter as little reminder.

"Okay, let me take a s—" Sharon raised a brow and Natasha stood still in front of her, rubbing her hand over her eyes before start talking. "After Berlin I ran away before anyone could notice. Took my laptop and a few things before sprinting towards Poland. I knew someone on Warsaw that could actually help me get some new documents, so that was my first stop. I didn't last there, two weeks later I was on my way to Belarus."

Natasha sighed heavily, scratching her scalp a bit while Sharon stayed still.

"Some agents made me recognize that having red hair wasn't really okay if you are on the run," she took a few platinum strands of her hair. "So I left too when they found me near Latvia's frontier. Saint Petersburg isn't that far from where I was, so my feet lead me home." She let out a low chuckle that made her feel her eyes start to get teary. "I met with an old friend and he kept me safe for a couple months, while I was gathering enough information about the others. I wanted to join them in Wakanda," Natasha flashed a quick smile and put her hands behind her back. "But I found you while wandering in Tony's files. And I wanted to be with you."

"Being cheesy doesn't suit you," Sharon shook her head slowly, breaking the eye contact to look at the counter.

"It's the truth, Sharon," her voice lowered more when she said the name, showing the anger that was building up on her. "Can’t you believe in me? For once?"

Okay, she hadn't need to say that. It was unnecessary, she knew it. But this game of who push the other further was tiring her after three years of playing it. However, Sharon's eyes darted again to meet Natasha's and she took away her gun to put it on a drawer.

"For once?" Her voice was showing the true anger from someone that was slowly burning inside. "I believed in you when a bunch of aliens and a Nordic god tried to kill you and you told me it was over the night after; I believed in you the night you told me what you did to my legacy, telling me you were done with this life at the moment; I believed in you when you all landed in Washington, after destroying a whole city because Stark decided to play the mad scientist; I believed in you when you told me you wanted to settle down with me after the funeral," Sharon was crying at this point and Natasha looked down at the floor. "After every time I believe in you, you run away from me. And you just asked me to believe in you for once."

"I was trying to get intel about Tony and the others in real time when I got across your file, I guess Steve pulled the old protocol to protect them all because I didn't find shit," the truth told straight away was the way Natasha had to take in order to make Sharon believe in her. "I'd turned my back on Tony to help Steve and now I'm alone like always," Natasha sighed again before daring to look at Sharon. "And I rather be alone with someone that actually likes me than simply alone," Another chuckle and it was her turn to cry. "I guess I’ll take my stuff, I shouldn’t be here if you aren’t comfortable. It seems you don’t like me either after all...”

Sharon walked around the counter to take Natasha's hands. The only thing she did was holding her hands really tight before pulling them closer to kiss her fingers. Her lips were cold when she pulled Natasha in for a kiss. Cold, salty and wet.

“I like you,” Sharon’s voice was so low that Natasha thought she didn’t say a thing. “I love Nadja, I love Natasha, I love Natalia,” she could feel the brunette’s hands going up her arms to hold her better. “I love you and I only needed you to tell me the truth,” Sharon made her look at her, placing her hands in each side of Natasha’s face. “Clyde always told Bonnie the truth, right?”

Natasha didn’t know a single fuck about what that meant for Sharon, but she nodded. She nodded and then she felt herself pushing Sharon towards the master bedroom. She felt her own hands acting with care to not touch the wounds she inflicted. Sharon was all over her senses, from muffled moans to hands that roamed around her body with knowledge.

They always made up like that. They would sort things out, loose ends to take care of when the right time arrived. Eventually, when they both find themselves comfortable around each other again to let their guard down. And that was okay to them, because they didn’t know how to fix things without landing some punches and no-meant words.

With Sharon over her, Natasha thought they would have enough time this time around. Enough time to actually address each other properly.

Enough for Natasha to feel safe.

Enough for Sharon to feel secure.

She was going to scold the taller woman about living the frat-boy life. Yeah, she was going to put some order in her life, she couldn’t live off leftovers from the old Italian woman that lived under her nor having everything as if a bomb had just exploded in the middle of the master room forever.

But first she would take care of what was going on between her legs.

#natasha romanoff #sharon carter #natsharon #bonnie and clyde #marvel #mcu #black widow #agent thirteen #agent 13

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lost-your-memory · 5 years ago

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Old friends, aliens and curiosities - Part II

Listen, I can’t stop thinking about this gifset made by @lonely-night in which H.G Wells (Warehouse 13) & Lena Luthor (CW Supergirl) are old friends and working together in the present to retrieve a curiosity (A ping, darling) meant to kill Lena.

So this is VERY AU-ish and with a crossover no one knew we needed but well, we do. Here’s the second part (it covers the third gif, I think), I’m gonna try to write the whole thing.

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“You have to stop bypassing my assistant on a regular basis,” Lena sighs as she enters her office, waving at Jess to let her know everything was fine. From her spot on Lena’s couch, Helena only smirks and raises a tumbler full of what looks like one of her finest Scotch. The way the amber swirls in the glass, heavy and slow, makes Lena longs for it, but she only shakes her head and takes a detour to drop her purse on her desk. “Where’s the fun in that?” Helena muses, voice low and grave. Her thick accent makes Lena’s ears buzz with memories and she can almost hear the distant echo of a string of “bollocks”. “Anyway, I’m not just here to make another dent in your fine alcohol collection.” “Oh really? Shame, you’re clearly doing a great job at that,” Lena sasses as she drops in her chair, already firing up her laptop. Helena rolls her eyes. She stands up from the couch and brings her glass with her. She places it on the edge of Lena’s desk before she starts pacing around, the smug smirk on her face gone. “We’ve identified a curiosity in the area, something specifically designed to …” Helena pauses and tilts her head, pacing a little faster before she stops entirely. Her eyes lock with Lena’s when she sighs. “It’s a device meant to kill you.” Lena shrugs. She glances at her laptop and winces when she sees the cohorts of emails that needs her immediate attention but since Helena is still looking at her, she smiles. “Okay.” The victorian-writer looks utterly dumbfounded for a second, before she narrows her eyes. “Did you not hear me?” Helena takes a step closer and she almost leans over the desk when she speaks again. “I tell you someone with an artefact is planning to have you killed and all you say is okay?” Lena shrugs again and clicks on one of the most urgent emails before starting to type an answer. “All I’m hearing is that you still call it a curiosity, while I believe the right term these days is … a ping?” “Have you been corresponding with Claudia again?” Helena glares but she dismissively waves Lena’s upcoming answer. “Never mind. This artefact is … unusual. It’s alien technology, I believe it’s a thing on this earth now?” “I don’t know, you tell me,” Lena curtly replies, waving at the TV currently displaying Supergirl’s latest combat. The few aliens in front of her have blue skin, big horns and they breathe fire. “Lovely,” Helena mutters under her breath. “Although, the one with the suit is very easy on the eyes …” “Don’t you have a TV now, in the warehouse? Not to mention that Claudia is both a tech genius and a geek so surely, you’ve heard of Supergirl before seeing her on my TV …” Lena snorts, finishing her email before starting a new one. “Supergirl?” Helena prods, eyes traveling from the screen back to Lena. “Is that how she calls herself?” Lena reaches out and grabs Helena’s abandoned tumbler of Scotch. She takes two large sips before placing the almost empty glass back to its previous emplacement. “The name stuck, yeah. Cat Grant chose it, a while ago,” Lena replies, not meeting Helena’s eyes. She can still feel the interrogation hanging in the air so she keeps talking. “She’s the former CEO of CatCo Worldwide Media, once Press Secretary for the White House under the Marsdin administration but she resigned, not too long ago. From what I last heard, she’s traveling the world with her son.” Helena moves and from the corner of her eyes, Lena sees her friend get hold of her Scotch decanter and another glass. When she comes back, she’s already poured an unhealthy dose of alcohol in the tumbler and places it in front of Lena. Then she refills the one she previously had. “Something you want to tell me, about that … Supergirl?” Helena has always been extremely perceptive. It’s one of the thing Lena misses the most, maybe. The way the author could always read her, no matter what. It had felt so nice, back in her past, to have someone she didn’t even have to talk to to feel understood. Helena had been one of the few people in her life to truly and completely get her. Today, though, too much time had passed. Too much had happened and Helena wasn’t up to date with the latest tragedies of her life. She couldn’t possibly understand. “Honestly? No. I really don’t want to talk about her. Not today, maybe not ever,” Lena replies, shaking her head. Helena nods, letting it go. They drink in silence for a while, with Lena sometimes typing an email in between sips of Scotch and Helena losing herself in her thoughts, eyes wandering on the city’s skyline behind the bay window. “Alright, enough sappiness,” Helena shakes her head and finishes her drink, bottom up. “Let’s talk about this person who wants to kill you.” Lena chuckles dryly and takes another large gulp of her Scotch. “Which one? You’ll have to be a little more specific, I’m afraid …” The look in Helena’s soulful brown eyes is priceless and Lena savors it for a little while. Until she sighs. “Let’s say that being a Luthor in this century is … a lot of work. Especially a live one,” Lena offers a tiny, clipped smile. “Here I thought that after so many years in the bronze, life would finally get easier …” Helena sasses and with her thick accent, the sentence sounds incredibly sarcastic. It makes Lena’s smile grow wider. “Not quite,” Lena counters, waving a hand in the air before she reaches for the decanter Helena had left on the edge of her desk. She fills her tumbler and then adds “What’s the artefact anyway? How comes it’s alien?” Helena throws her a meaningful look. “The creation of an artefact is simply the meeting of an object, a person and …” “A moment.” Lena concludes with a pang of nostalgia in the pit of her stomach. “Caturanga used to tell us that, I remember.” “It means that aliens, too, have the ability to creates artefact. What I don’t get is … how could an artefact be created to kill you specifically?” Helena frowns, playing with the heavy glass in her hand while the other rested against the base of her neck, toying with her necklace. “Well … My enemies are legions,” Lena shrugs and rolls her eyes. “I’m guessing someone has something against the only living Luthor left and they either designed or got their hands on an already existing device they programmed to kill me. After all, it would require only my DNA to be able to target me specifically …” Helena looks unimpressed at that. Her eyes narrow and all of a sudden, Lena finds herself being scrutinised. “You do know an awful lot about this …” “Pff, please. It’s basic science, with just a hint of engineering,” Lena waves, disdain lining her voice. “Hm,” Helena doesn’t reply for a moment but she keeps staring at Lena as if she was trying to figure out something. After a few minutes during which Lena kept writing, Helena finally relents and paces again. “Who would know that level of basic science and engineering, though, and have both the means to create such a device and the emotional involvement needed to make an artefact out of it?” Lena pauses in the redaction of her email, her mind racing over the possibilities. “The skills are pretty much common in my circles, so that won’t narrow it down,” Lena thinks out loud. She’s the CEO of a very advanced technological company and the products L-Corp put on the market every year are counted by dozen, if not hundreds. “The emotional involvement though …” Her mind goes to Kara, because of course it’s the first name she can think of. It’s ridiculous because Kara has no reason to kill her. It would be the other way around actually, if Lena wasn’t so hopelessly in love with the girl who betrayed her. She shakes her head and focuses back on Helena, who’s watching her carefully. “I don’t know. I’ll think about it and I’ll call you if I a name pops up,” Lena eventually says, waving at her friend. “Now, I do have work to do and day drinking with a century old friend isn’t helping.” “As if you’re not actually older than me,” Helena mutters under her breath but still loud enough for Lena to hear. “By six months, Helena, it hardly counts,” Lena rolls her eyes but there’s a smile tugging at her lips, strangely affectionate. “It totally counts. Alright, see you around Lee,” Helena relents but she has a smile of her own gracing her lips. “Be safe, alright? It’d be a shame to die so …” “Young?” Lena laughs, the echo of it swirling in the office. “Early,” Helena counters, a knowing look sparkling in her brown eyes. “If you say so,” Lena shrugs and then focuses back on her emails. After a minute, she hears the sound of her door closing behind Helena.

#Warehouse 13 #Meets #Lena Luthor #AU-ish unexpected crossover #Warehouse 13 Supergirl crossover #Listen I really can't stop thinking about this #Sentences prompt #My writing #Whoops

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liam-93-productions · 5 years ago

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Liam Payne is on the cover of Esquire Middle East's June 2019 issue

The One Direction star was photographed on a rainy day in London

During the shoot, Payne opens up about the media's obsession with romance rumours

"Most of what you read online about me is straight BS" says Payne

It’s raining in West London. Every weather man, woman, and app had forecast that sunshine would be on the agenda for the day. But no. It’s raining. So, we’re stuck inside instead.

Alternating between balancing on a set of dumbbells (...) Liam Payne doesn’t seem to mind all that much about the weather. He’s used to plans changing pretty quickly.

“I’ve found in my life at the moment, because of the way things have happened, that everything’s kind of fast-forwarded,” says Payne, his dark eyes lighting up like those of a prospector that’s just panned a nugget of gold, “everything has fast-forwarded.”

Payne’s lived pretty much his entire life on fast-forward. He had his first X-Factortelevision appearance at the age of fourteen. He embarked on his first world tour with a little band named One Direction—you might have heard of them—only four years later. The band sold more than 50 million albums worldwide, and had four albums debut at number one in the US charts. (...)

As Payne ambles about the studio, it’s hard not to notice that even the tattoo on his forearm bears a striking resemblance to the fast-forward button on a television remote. Or a Spotify skip button.

Having recently performed alongside Rita Ora at the Global Teacher Prize concert in Dubai, Payne looks healthy and tanned, kissed by the sun even though his visit to the region was greeted by weather not dissimilar to today’s overcast conditions. “I think the weather’s just following me around at the minute,” he says with a laugh as abrupt as the first half of a hiccup. “There’s an air of something almost Vegas-y about Dubai,” adds Payne, “everything’s a little bit of a show there.”

Payne is no stranger to bit of a show. As well as having spent the better part of a decade touring the world with One Direction (the band is currently on a definitely indefinite hiatus) Payne helped break a concert attendance record in the Middle East last year by performing in front of 110,000 people. “I didn’t eat anything at dinner beforehand because I was thinking no-one’s going to turn up,” he admits.

To make Liam Payne nervous certainly takes some doing. Back in 2009—when ambitions of winning X-Factor as a solo performer were still very much at the forefront of his mind—Payne sang in front of over 29,000 fans as part of the pre-match entertainment of a game between his local football team Wolverhampton Wanderers and Manchester United. A pretty heady experience for a boy not yet old enough to drive a car.

Now 25, Payne knew from an early age that he could “hold a tune”. What it took him longer to realise was that others couldn’t. “I think I thought it was just a normal thing that people could get on with,” he says with a shrug. That may well have been the case when it came to his local theatre group, but when considering most of the “normal things”that people “get on with”, we’d hazard a guess that the majority don’t involve amassing over two billion streams on Spotify.

But that’s Liam Payne for you: unassuming, self-effacing, and—for the most part—a guy who seems just genuinely happy to be here. It’s easy to forget when deliberating the merits of Linkin Park’s nu-metal masterpiece ‘Meteora’ with Payne that his face was once plastered on the bedroom walls of millions of tweens the world over.

Payne’s achieved extraordinary success in the quarter of a century he’s exhausted so far. So much so that you’d expect the moment that sparked off his passion for music to be equally spectacular. A real spontaneous Kevin Bacon dancing-in-an-abandoned-warehouse sort of epiphany. The reality is that it wasn’t romantic or sexy in the slightest. It was karaoke. “I used to go out to Cornwall and see my grandad and we’d always go to this karaoke bar and we’d sing a load of different stuff,” says Payne.

What sort of “stuff” does a future pop-star sing in a karaoke bar in a small town on the west coast of the UK? Well, the same oeuvre that you or I are have probably crooned into a microphone at midnight at Lucky Voice: ‘Angels’ by Robbie Williams.

While Payne isn’t ashamed to admit that he was listening to Williams pretty much 24/7 as a youngster (“No, I really was”), one of the first CDs he bought with his own money was an Eminem record. Growing up with both Robbie Williams and Marshall Mathers as his idols, he places his own sound as “somewhere in-between the two”.

A little bit Slim Shady and a little bit Rock DJ, that intersection of pop and rap is reflected in Payne’s solo career so far. His debut single, the catchy-as-the-plague earworm ‘Strip That Down’, featured Migos alum Quavo and went on to be certified platinum in both the US and the UK. The title track of his First Time EP also saw Payne join forces with rapper French Montana. Payne’s certainly not the first popstar to align themselves with a more urban sound in an attempt to appeal to an older demographic. Nor will he be the last. The transition from squeaky-clean boyband member to fullyfledged solo artist is, after all, anything but easy. To use a Take That comparison: for every one Robbie Williams, there are a hundred Mark Owens.

When it comes to One Direction, it’s still a bit too soon to tell who the Robbies and the Marks of the bunch are going to be. “When we did the band stuff it was very—not exactly scripted—but let’s just say you kind of knew your audience very well,” says Payne. “We’d usually sell a tour out before we’d even done an album. And then they [the record producers] would go: ‘Right, you’re doing stadiums’. And then you’d go: ‘Okay, so we need longer choruses—the kind of songs that people can chant in a stadium’. You had to kind of write around the tour.”

If that process sounds a bit paint-by-numbers, that’s because—by Payne’s own admission—it was. “It’s a very backwards way to do it,” he admits, “obviously people don’t really tend to write like that. But we just had no time, so it was like: ‘Quick! We need another hit and another and another!’ It was actually easier to write in that scenario because there were so many hoops you had to jump through. It wouldn’t necessarily be my choice of music now—it wasn’t something that I would listen to—but I just knew how to make it, if that makes sense?”

Going from such a canned bop formula to a world of complete creative freedom is a daunting prospect for anyone looking to make it as a solo act. But that was far from the only challenge Payne faced. Streaming services like Spotify and Apple Music have drastically altered the music industry since the phone-to-vote days that launched One Direction. “The way that the industry kind of works now is kind of a difficult one because of the way albums are and the introduction of Spotify,” says Payne. “When I was in the band, Spotify wasn’t really a thing for us, we didn’t really care. We used to sell a lot of albums and physical copies, so it was different for us. As I got more into the solo stuff it was a kind of, like, a bit f**king confusing.”

All you need to do is look at the chains that Payne draped around his neck during the releases of a series of sophomore singles to see a man adopting a kabuki mask that didn’t quite fit. A man who was, in his words, a bit f**king confused. “‘Strip That Down’ was amazing and I was really happy with the success of it—but it didn’t necessarily paint the right picture of me and who I actually am,” he says, “I always found, to start off with, that with a lot of the chains and the clothes and the fashion, I was kind of hiding behind something. We did a billion streams for ‘Strip That Down’ but it still all gets a bit heady and at a certain point you’re like: ‘what the f**k am I doing here?’ It’s a bit like being stuck out in deep water and you’re just going ‘well, it would be really nice to get back now.’”

Payne might still be far from the shore, but he seems to be treading water at a more comfortable pace nowadays. “It took me a long to get my head around it,” he says (...)

And where is Liam Payne now? Well, he’s sat in front of me looking comparatively anxiety-free: comfortable and relaxed in a plain black tee and pair of tailored HUGO trousers. “My style and my fashion sense are all quite laid back now because that’s kind of the way I am as well. I don’t feel the need to hide behind the clothes anymore. I feel I can finally be who I am and enjoy myself.”

The last few years have witnessed a real boy-to-man transition for the ex-boy band squaddie. A coming-of-age moment came when he arrived at Frank Sinatra’s house in Palm Springs to record his part of ‘For You’ with Rita Ora. A crooning, finger-snapping, rather embarrassingly-waist-coated rendition of ‘Fly Me to The Moon’ was what Payne sang to get through his first ever X-Factor audition. Walking into Old Blue Eyes’ home, for Payne, came with the realisation that he’d “made that complete full-circle journey”.

Suffice it to say there’s no turning around for Payne in that journey when it comes to the fame front; he’s well in the thickets of the tabloid jungle. Headlines about who’s “breaking silence on romance rumours” with the popstar are a daily occurrence in the British papers. So too are accompanying photographs of his face. Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Payne has, after all, got a rather nice face. The latest use of which has seen it become the face of Hugo Boss’s latest HUGO menswear line.

“To be honest, they called me and it just seemed to make a lot of sense at the time. It was a direction that I knew I’d love to go down,” says Payne on how his partnership with the brand first came about. “It’s very rare that a big company like Hugo Bosscomes around asking for you to be the face of it. It’s a bit of a dream come true actually.”

Previous Hugo Boss ambassadors include the likes of Chris Hemsworth, Jamie Dornan and Gerard Butler. Handsome faces. Familiar faces. Faces that are now forever immortalised in the public conscience. A fact that Payne is all-too conscious of himself. “I was looking through the different people that they’ve had on their roster over the years and they’re all people that I look up to,” says Payne, “So, I’m obviously quite excited but it’s also a bit daunting because these things,” he spreads his arms in a gesture that aptly sums up the rigmarole of press junkets and interviews, “are literally around for forever now.”

Moving from location to location and outfit to outfit, it becomes evident that dressing to hide who he is, is no longer on Payne’s agenda. As he’s grown (both figuratively and literally) in the public eye, and Payne’s now come to accept the lane he’s in. “I’ve become more in tune with things now,” he says, “as the years go by, I think you gain a different level of confidence and find out what works for you and what doesn’t, rather than constantly trying to be something that you’re not. If that makes sense?” It does.

What makes less sense is why Payne decided to go with chains in the first place “It was quite funny at the time when everyone used to get really mad about it,” he says referencing outraged headlines like: Sleepy Liam Payne leaves a London studio wearing a HUGE gold chain. “It just didn’t really matter to me.”

What matters to Payne is when those stories affect the lives of those around him. One particular article published in the British newspaper, The Daily Mail, last year that attempted to insinuate he was romantically linked with a member of his team irked Payne so much that the usually apolitical Twitterer took to social media to criticising the newspaper.

“The difference with that story was that the people that they were putting me with have families, boyfriends, girlfriends,” explains Payne, “I go home every night and know that people write horses**t about me daily. I won’t worry about it because I know it’s f**king bulls**t. But for someone who’s never had a story written about them before? If they go home and their partner’s reading the paper going like: ‘what the f**k is this?’ It’s difficult for them to be able to explain that.” Payne’s voice ratchets up a few decibels when he says this. He uses more than a few words we’re not legally allowed to print. I can tell that he cares about this. That it needles him. That it’s not something he has to say, but rather something that he needs to say. So, I let him.“I asked for this, I get paid very handsomely to be here and it’s part of my life and I get it. It’s alright. You can write what the f**k you want about me but when it comes to other people who work with me? That is not on.”

The only way for Payne to cut through that noise is by doing the thing he knows best: making music. “Everything I do is very, very public a lot of the time. I get reported on a lot for different things. I just think there’s a certain line where I have to have my say. And that there’s only one way for me to do that—which is through my music.”

(...)

Communicating as a public figure becomes increasingly difficult when navigating the glut of information that exists online. Do a quick Google search for ‘Liam Payne’ and you’ll be greeted by countless fan sites with a never-ending litany of “facts” about the man. Facts like:

“Liam Payne prefers showers over baths” “Liam Payne sleeps naked” “Liam Payne has a phobia of spoons”

While Payne is quick to assure me that most of what you’ll read online is straight B.S., one fact did keep cropping up again and again. And I mean, c’mon, I couldn’t not ask him about the spoons, could I?

“Yeah, I did have a fear of spoons,” he groans with the weariness of a man who’s been pelted with countless pieces of cutlery, “but it wasn’t so much a fear as something that’s now turned into a thing because of the internet. I was forced in detention once to wash up dirty plates and spoons and I think it just put me off looking at how dirty some of these spoons came back. But people used to throw spoons at me in concerts! I should have said I had a fear of pillows—that would have been comfier.”

All things considered, a fear of spoons is a fairly harmless rumour to spread. But rumours rarely ever are. Most are vicious; spreading like wildfire and burning all of those they touch. “I’ve been dead,” says Payne abruptly. “People I love have been dead.”

The non-stop 24-hour nature of the news cycles can be overwhelming to read, let alone to be involved in via the announcement of your own death. “You have to learn fast and we [One Direction] had to grow up pretty quick in the circumstances that we were under or else you kind of f**k it a little bit,” he says. If you’ve ever seen clips of The Beatles or BTS getting mobbed on the streets, you know the kind of hysteria that can ensue when boyband members are seen out in public.

“I don’t think I struggle in the sense of what you would naturally think of when I’m walking down the street with every person stopping me,” says Payne, “I mean, it happens sometimes but it’s mainly mentally where you struggle with it. It’s the getting ready and always knowing that you might be photographed.” From elaborate airport fits to the loungewear he puts on to pick up a pint of semiskimmed milk from the shop down the road, there’s never a moment where Payne and his clothing aren’t in danger of becoming front page news.

One of the ways that Payne combats that simmering anxiety is by going for a run at 5am every morning. It’s probably why he’s been able to maintain his sanity so far. And probably why he’s in—as evidenced by his numerous topless Instagram photos—such great nick.

“I love it. I get myself outside and into the day and get past that fear of ‘what if this happens?’ or ‘what if that happens?’. Because, for a long time, I became—what’s the word?” says Payne, gesticulating wildly as if he’ll catch the phrase careening around his head like a runaway wasp, “there’s a word for this condition where you stay inside and never leave, it’s in Ocean’s Twelve…”

I saw Ocean’s Twelve last week. The word he’s looking for is agoraphobia.

“Yeah, that’s it. I developed a bit of agoraphobia. I would never leave the house. And I do sometimes suffer with it a bit in the sense that I’ll get days where I just don’t want to leave my house. Even if it’s just going to the shop. I’d be going i to order a coffee at Starbucks and I would sweat because I wouldn’t know whether I was doing the right thing or not. I would be thinking: ‘f**k, I don’t want to be here’.”

I worry for a moment whether Payne is feeling that same feeling today but decide instead to take likely misplaced solace that my innate knowledge of the Ocean’s film franchise has won him over. “I even used to have a really bad problem with going to petrol stations and paying for petrol. I can feel it now—it was like this horrible anxiety where I’d be sweating buckets in the car thinking ‘I don’t want to do this’.”

Many people suffer from moments of panic and instances where we feel crushed by the weight of the world’s expectations and Payne is all-too aware that his specific anxieties stem from a position of privilege. “Unfortunately, it does happen to everybody in this industry,” he says, “I think at a certain point you just have to get over it as quickly as you can.”

There we are once again: back to doing things quickly. Back to being on fast-forward. Back to doing countless interviews in specifically allotted time slots. Back to that constant pressure where “everything happens a little bit quicker in my world than it does in everyone else’s”.

Everything might be happening a hell of a lot quicker for Liam Payne than me, but I’m still interested to know: what’s next for the man? What does he want to achieve in the not-yet fast-forwarded future? “I’m hoping for something a lot more than what I’ve done so far, if that makes sense?” Having listened to Payne’s solo discography in preparation for this interview, it really does.

Sure, Payne’s produced a spate of bonafide bangers—songs that will have you singing along as you whip down Emirates Road—but they’re also songs that are, for the most part, still formulaic. They’re catchy, glossily well-produced, yet contain something of an air of inauthenticity about them.

And, having met Payne, I can’t help but feel they seem at odds with his unabashedly authentic self. As he tells me: “People can see right through that s**t and it’s difficult for you to then go and say ‘buy this record!’ if you don’t really believe in what’s going on.”

So, what does a man who’s (sort of) afraid of spoons actually believe in? Moreover, what does a man who eats ice cream with a fork want to be remembered as having believed in? “I’m obviously really happy with some of the stuff I’ve done. Like breaking world records with the band and all sorts of amazing stuff. But in the recent years, it’s been a bit topsy-turvy with me kind of finding my way. And I’d rather not be remembered for a lot of those things. I want to make a really amazing album that’s not, like,” and he air-quotes here, “important, but something that people really get into. Something that makes certain people feel a couple things. I think that would be the best thing for me. I just want to make people move, if that makes sense?”

In case you haven’t already noticed, that question (‘if that makes sense?”) is practically punctuation to Payne. It’s a caveat that ends many of his statements; an interrogation of his own beliefs and a moment where his PR armour reveals its chinks and offers a glimpse of the man beneath the surface. A man that is equal parts cocksure and uncertain—a man who’s very rarely both and almost never neither.

While he might be living on fast-forward—and shows no signs of slowing anytime soon—Liam Payne, for the moment at least, might just be in the midst of the most interesting time of his life. His legacy is currently being written, awaiting the day we’ll eventually look back with a clearer idea of whether he’s a Robbie Williams or a Mark Owen. As for me, I’m just hoping that the next evolution of Liam Payne’s career is a lot more Liam Payne than the last. If that makes sense?

#liam payne #esquire middle east #liam's interview #hugo boss #30.05.2019 #long post

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