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gukyi · 4 years

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four weeks | kth

summary: four weeks. that’s how long you’re trapped on campus after missing your flight home because of a grossly overtime final. and as you’re walking around your empty campus, thinking that you could sink no lower, you find yourself alone in the art building with a certain freshman-year-dorm-neighbor from hell, and he’s got an offer that you don’t think you can refuse: he’s staying on campus this winter break as well, and he’s happy to let you live with him.

or, four weeks is all it takes to fall in love.

{enemies to lovers!au, roommates!au, college!au}

pairing: art and chemistry double major kim taehyung x female reader genre: fluff, angst, comedy, the whole nine!! word count: 20k warnings: alcohol consumption (be safe!), unwanted sexual advances (not between main characters and not at all explicit), and a ton of college tomfoolery. a/n: i’m finally finished with my very first semester of college! it was a lot, but finishing this fic was a treat after my damn finals, which were very stressful. this is part of the stranded for christmas collab, and i’m so honored to be doing this with such amazing, talented writers! please give them and their fics lots of love, and enjoy this super fun train wreck of a fic!

Admittedly, Global Politics in the Twentieth Century has never treated you particularly well.

Your lecturer is about as interesting as grass growing, the readings are low quality scans of book pages with the tiniest font and absolutely no line spacing, and any friends you had in that class in the beginning of the semester dropped out of it by the time mid-September rolled around, leaving you trapped due to societal pressures and a History and Politics general education requirement you still have yet to finish.

But, of all the things you could imagine Global Politics in the Twentieth Century doing to you, like charging you an exorbitant $200 dollars for a textbook you would never open anyway, burning your house down, or even straight up just murdering you, this is by far the worst.

It’s bad enough that your final for Global Politics in the Twentieth Century is on the last possible day for finals at the latest possible time, but when the clock strikes 8:00PM and you have just about fucking had it with this semester, you realize that no one else is standing up.

This panic intensifies as you begin thinking of all of the terrible things that could be the reasoning behind this: you’re just the dumbass who finished their final first and got all of the questions wrong, the clocks have yet to adjust to daylight savings and you think that it’s 8:00PM when really it’s 7:00PM, or, worst of all, your final is running overtime.

You have only ever heard of horror stories about overtime finals. Things like having to cram the next three-hour final into one hour, or having to reschedule the final to some other time that is equally as conflicting. Stuff that is, to a normal human being, a minor to moderate inconvenience at best (and to an overdramatic college student—pure, unadulterated hell), but when this is the last final on the last day at the latest time, there are no other finals to be had. No other school-related scheduling conflicts barreling into you.

It’s just your luck, really, that on the last day of the semester, at the latest time you are allowed to be here, Global Politics in the Twentieth Century would come back to bite you in the ass one last time. As if all the times you dozed off in class (or just plain skipped), forgot to turn in your reading analyses, and showed up late to your recitation are finally catching up to you. Like the very worst kind of karma that could ever befall you.

Well, to be fair, it’s not as if the rest of the day has treated you any better. The entire time you’ve been awake on this fine December day has been an absolute trash can of a day.

This is how the beginning of your very last day of the semester played out:

Your alarm went off at 8:00AM sharp, purposefully set that early so you could wake up and have a productive day studying before your final at 6:00PM.

You hit snooze and ended up waking up around 11:33AM.

You scrambled out of bed very inelegantly and attempted to get your life together before noon so you could at least have six hours worth of a productive study day before your final.

You remembered that you hadn’t packed yet, so you spent the next hour frantically stuffing your belongings into the singular carry-on sized suitcase meant to last you through your month-long winter break.

You also realized that you hadn’t done your laundry for the week (well, week and 6 days…), and you obviously want to bring clean clothes back home so you spend the next two hours doing your laundry and finishing up your packing.

By the time you finally managed to get the time to study, the panic had fully nestled itself into your bones, so you could not focus and spent the next three hours staring at your study guide and praying that osmosis would kick in so you could actually retain information.

You left to go to your final five minutes later than you should have and then ran across campus (with absolutely no dignity left) in order to get there on time.

You arrived at your final just in time, only for there to be technical difficulties with printing the exam because your professor is a procrastinator, just like you are.

The next thirty minutes were then spent contacting the IT department, attempting to fix the printer, having to go print in another building, and then coming back with the final exam to a room of aggravated students who thought that they would be thirty-minutes into the exam by now.

You are taking the final exam. It’s stupid difficult and you’re absolutely going to tank it.

You are watching as the final runs overtime for about half an hour.

You are watching as the final runs overtime for about an hour.

You are watching as the final runs overtime for about an hour and a half.

And on your very last day of the fall semester, your final runs overtime by two whole hours because of some mystic force determined to ruin your life, and your flight heading back home took off fifteen minutes ago.

You know, it could be worse. You could have failed all of your classes. Instead, you paid an exorbitant $500 to miss your flight, fail your Global Politics in the Twentieth Century final, and end up trapped on campus for all of winter break because you don’t have the money to buy another plane ticket at such late notice (or at all).

So, it could be worse.

You trudge out of your final exam and try not to burst into tears on your way back to your dormitory. Barely anybody is left on campus now that finals are officially over, but you still want to save that last shred of dignity. As you’re walking down the pathway, you begin to feel wet splotches on your face. For a moment, you think that they are fat tears rolling down your face, but you look at the cobblestone beneath your feet and realize that instead, it’s raining.

The perfect weather to match your mood, if you’re being honest.

Not wanting to get caught in a downpour, you end up taking refuge in the coffee shop connected to the art building on campus. It’s a genius business design, if you say so yourself, because there is no one more dependent on caffeine than sleep-deprived, eyebag-laden art students. Surprisingly enough, there are still people behind the counter bustling around, so you use the last of your university dollars to order a peppermint hot chocolate to warm your insides (but not your cold, dead soul).

From there, you take a quick detour to explore the art building, a building you have, admittedly, never really taken much of a look at. It must be empty now, with everyone off campus—except you, of course—which gives you the perfect opportunity to wallow in peace while admiring art.

Walking inside, you stare at your reflection in the enormous glass walls. Look at your tired eyes, slouched shoulders, lips pressed thin, and hands warmed only by the heat of your cardboard coffee cup. Count each acne mark and hair out of place. It’s almost like you’re watching yourself as you look in the mirror, a third person standing in the background. The audience. Like the person who’s looking back at you isn’t you at all.

It's quite artistic, actually. Ironically enough.

But no matter how picturesque, how cinematic this particular moment of your life is, nothing can really soothe you after missing your flight, failing your final, and pretty much having the worst day of your entire life.

Just then, you hear footsteps echoing down the halls.

You assume that it must just be a professor leaving their office, or even maybe one of the hardworking security guards, but as you watch the glass walls to catch a glimpse of who's passing by, you realize that it's not a professor, or a security guard, or even a very large mouse scurrying across the floor.

"I thought I would be the last one in here," Kim Taehyung says when he spots you, stopping in his tracks with a canvas about half the size of him underneath his arm.

"So did I," you muse in response, not really wanting to turn around to save yourself the trouble of talking to him.

Still, Kim Taehyung has always been one hell of an observant guy, so by the time he's stopped behind you, he's already peering into the reflection of the glass windows to look at who he's talking to.

"Y/N?" He asks, walking up to you with his eyebrow raised. He comes over, standing next to you as you look at each other's reflections in the glass. "Never thought I'd see you in here."

"Me neither, to be honest," you say. Seeing as you aren't a visual studies major, you never really considered the art building to be a location of top priority. Until now, that is.

The last time you spoke to Kim Taehyung was the last day of your freshman year, when everybody was getting ready to move out, packing up their belongings and removing the fifteen thousand Command hooks stuck to their walls. You and him made eye contact as you placed the last of your boxes for the semester into those enormous Residential Services carts, glaring at each other from your adjacent rooms.

“First year flew by, didn’t it?” Taehyung asks, smirk lacing his features.

“Thank God it’s over,” you tell him.

“Not gonna miss me, huh?” Taehyung winks, and it makes you want to take this cardboard box filled with all of the notebooks and lined paper and folders you used throughout the year and chuck it at his head.

“Miss you?” You ask with a scoff. With the final box finally out of your room, you can officially lock the door behind you, closing the chapter on your very first year at university. “Please. Nothing makes me happier than the fact that I don’t have to live next to you anymore.”

“Why are you still here?” Taehyung asks, tapping his fingers on the side of the canvas underneath his arm. “Thought you’d be off campus by now.”

“I had a late final,” you say, pretending that your life and every aspect of it is fine when it is, in fact, not fine at all. The best case scenario is that Taehyung accepts your bullshit answer for what it is and heads off to do whatever it is that he does, leaving you alone so you can wallow in pity and ponder the meaning of life. The worst case scenario is that Taehyung stays.

And Taehyung has always been very good at picking the latter.

“Ah, sucks, for what class?” Taehyung asks. You can’t tell if he’s genuinely curious or just wants to interrupt your personal self-wallow time for as long as possible.

“Global Politics in the Twentieth Century,” you tell him with a sigh. You don’t want to have to hear, say, read, or write that name ever again.

“Oh, really? I took that class last semester,” Taehyung says with an eyebrow raised, surprised. “I thought it was super interesting.”

As if you needed any more proof that you and Kim Taehyung are exact opposites in every way. You are hardly surprised that Kim Taehyung enjoyed Global Politics in the Twentieth Century—not when the two of them have so much in common, like inconveniencing you, being annoying, and sort of always having it out for you. It’s like they were meant to be together.

“I can’t say I thought the same,” you say pointedly, lips pursed into a tight line.

“Ah, well, I never did peg you for a history buff,” Taehyung says with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Why are you still on campus? I thought art students had to turn in their final projects on the first day of exams,” you ask, turning the focus onto him. It’s obvious that he has no intention of leaving you alone, so your next best option is to interrogate him until the tension between the two of you is so suffocating, so thick and heavy, that he wants to leave.

“I had a couple of chem finals after I finished up my art classes,” Taehyung says. Right. You forgot he was doing a double major. “And, my parents are actually travelling this winter break, so I was planning on staying on campus. Didn’t really want to go back to an empty house, you know?”

After the day you’ve had, you can think of nothing better than opening the door to your home, knowing that you have the entire place to yourself and can spend the night in your bedroom, watching Netflix.

“You’re staying on campus?” You ask. Great. The only two people who will be on campus this winter recess are you and Kim Taehyung. Fantastic.

“Yeah,” Taehyung says, clearly unaffected. He seems particularly unbothered by the fact that he can’t go home, almost like he’s been looking forward to having the entire university to himself. “You’re about to head home, then, aren’t you? Just taking a quick break in the art building?”

Well, almost to himself.

The chances of running into Taehyung this winter break, despite being probably the only two people on campus, is still slim. It’s a big campus, and there are people who are not part of the university that walk on campus all the time.

And still, you don’t know what you’ll do if you lie to Taehyung and tell him you’re about to fly home, and then bump into him at the local coffee shop. You might just perish. That might be what happens.

So, for once in your life, you suck it up and tell the truth. For once.

“Actually, I missed my flight because of my final running overtime, so I’m sort of stuck here,” you tell him, and as the words leave your lips it feels like your whole body gets weighed down, like you’re cemented to the floor.

It’s only then that Taehyung actually turns to face you, so you aren’t standing shoulder to shoulder and staring at the rain pattering on the pavement outside. You look at him, meeting his eyes and to your surprise, they aren’t filled with mirth. He hasn’t got this pleased grin on his face. He’s not milking this situation for what it could be milked for at all. He could be standing here, bathing in the satisfaction of your timely demise, and he’s not.

He actually looks quite sad.

“Really?” He asks, genuine.

“Yeah,” you say, and it’s then that you accept your fate, resign yourself to the fact that you’re trapped on campus with no way (and no money) to get home, and try to look for the silver lining. “So, I’ve actually got to get going, grab my stuff and everything.”

“Oh, do you live off campus?” Taehyung asks. “We should get together sometime this break. Who else are we gonna talk to, right?”

Spending time with Taehyung on your lonely-ass winter break sounds like the absolute worst thing in the entire world. It’s been two years since the last time you were forced to be within fifty feet of each other, so even having this conversation is taking you by surprise.

“No, I’m still staying on campus. But my dorm is closing for the winter break, so I need to go and find an Airbnb or something to stay somewhere,” you say, feeling your heart break at the notion of spending even more money this winter break after having watched your $500 dollar airplane ticket get flushed down the toilet.

Taehyung stays silent, eyes gazing at the lines between the linoleum tiles on the floor. He’s stopped tapping on the side of his canvas, a painting which you still haven’t fully gotten a glimpse of. In the quiet of the art building, the dust settles, and you wait for Taehyung to say something. Anything.

After a few more seconds, you decide that the two of you have been standing in awkward silence for long enough.

“Well, I’ll see you around, I guess,” you say nervously, letting out an unnatural and forced laugh as you turn on your feet and begin to head towards the exit. You have no idea where you’re going to go or what you’re going to do, but what you do know is that you have to be out of your building by noon tomorrow, so you’ve got less than a day to figure it out.

And then, Taehyung says the worst thing he could possibly say at this given moment:

“Do you wanna stay with me?”

You stop dead in your tracks.

“What?”

“You don’t have to say yes,” Taehyung immediately clarifies, as if that makes the offer any less sudden. “But I live in an off-campus apartment year round, so you could always stay with me if you’d like. You wouldn’t have to book an Airbnb or anything. But you don’t have to.”

You close your eyes, feeling your chest rise and sink as you inhale and exhale. You can’t believe you’re actually considering his offer. You can’t believe that Taehyung would willingly offer up his personal abode, his private apartment to you, the freshman year next-door neighbor who knocked on his door every six hours to tell him to shut the fuck up. You cannot believe that you are on the verge of accepting.

“Are you sure?” You ask, both eyebrows raised. Yes, the idea of free lodging and no-hassle appeals greatly to you, but you’re not so certain that Taehyung or you actually want this. After all, you spent all of freshman year hating on each other’s living habits as personal hobbies of yours. “You don’t have to offer just because I don’t have a place to stay. Seriously.”

“No,” Taehyung says, taking a step towards you. It’s barely a foot, but it feels like he’s a thousand miles closer to you than he was before. “I mean it. If you want to stay with me, you’re welcome to. I have a futon in my living room that you can sleep on. I’m being serious.”

You cannot believe that he’s asking this.

You cannot believe you’re considering this.

You cannot believe you’re about to say yes to this.

“You really mean it?” You ask one more time, just so you can be certain. You’d hardly be surprised if this whole thing was just a mindfuck.

“I do,” Taehyung says. “No matter what, I don’t think anybody should be alone for the holidays.”

“Then yes,” you say, letting Taehyung catch up to you as you begin to walk towards the exit, step by step. “I’d really appreciate it.” You turn to look at him, your eyes meeting his own chocolate brown ones, nearly ink black in the dark. You can’t offer much, certainly not anything to top this gracious proposal, but you smile, and he smiles back, and you think that’s enough.

Your first order of business is trekking back to your dormitory and grabbing your fully-packed suitcase. At least spending an hour shoving as many of your belongings as possible into a tiny carry-on has its benefits despite you not setting foot in the airport.

“Been a long time since we’ve done this,” Taehyung comments mindlessly as you walk through campus, following the cobblestone path as a shortcut to his apartment.

“Done what?” You ask snarkily. “Hung out with each other?” You scoff. You and Taehyung spent all of freshman year skirting around each other, desperately trying to avoid contact while also banging on each other’s doors every ten minutes. It was essentially two semesters worth of shouting at each other through walls and sneering when you actually locked eyes.

“Talked,” Taehyung simplifies, because he’s right.

“Isn’t that what we were aiming for?” You ask with a raised eyebrow, turning to look at him as your suitcase wheel skips on a stone out of place. “I thought we had reached that consensus already.” It’s been a year and a half since you last spoke to each other. You were almost confident that, without any overlapping classes, you would be able to keep that streak going long after graduation.

As it turns out, things change.

“I don’t know if we ever actually agreed on that,” Taehyung says, thinking back. “Almost like it went…” he pauses, and you can’t be sure if it’s for dramatic effect or because he actually doesn’t know what to say. “Unspoken.”

The irony is not lost on you. In fact, it hits you smack dab in the forehead as you watch Taehyung’s curious expression morph into the sleazy frat boy one he wore so much back then. He looks very pleased with his pun. It makes you want to sock him in the face.

And as it turns out, some things never change.

You resist the urge to punch him in the shoulder because he offered you a place to stay for this break and you sort of (actually, really) owe him big time right now. But that doesn’t mean you can’t send a disapproving frown, which seems to do the trick.

“I distinctly remember how you were so excited to never have to live next to me again when we moved out,” Taehyung says like he’s remembering a fun trip to the zoo. Almost like he looks upon the last time you ever interacted with each other fondly.

You mentally sigh. If only freshman year you knew what was going to happen in the middle of your junior year. If only your final hadn’t run overtime by two hours. If only you had booked a later flight.

If only.

“I don’t remember that at all,” you lie like a liar, saying the words as the picture of you snarkily spitting them at Taehyung at the end of your freshman year plays in your brain on repeat.

“You sure about that, Y/N?” Taehyung says, turning to look you up and down. He’s always been such a people reader, and you’ve always felt so helplessly transparent in front of him. Even back then. Even now. “Because I don’t really think that your memory is that bad.”

“Nope, no, I don’t,” you say quickly, trying to get Taehyung to stop eyeing you like you’re a question on an exam that he thinks is suspiciously easy.

“Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter then, does it?” Taehyung muses as you round the street corner and his apartment complex comes into view. “Since we’ll be living together, anyway.”

“Miss you? Please. Nothing makes me happier than the fact that I don’t have to live next to you anymore.”

Before you can wheel your cart down the hallway and kiss your freshman year goodbye, Taehyung opens his mouth and says one more thing. You almost don’t hear him, too busy reminding yourself that you’ll never have to see him again, but then he says, “One day, Y/N, you’re going to realize that we’re closer than you think.”

When you walk into Taehyung’s apartment, your eyes zero in on these three things: the navy blue futon pushed up against the wall by his television and the fact that it doesn’t look like the kind of used furniture from off of the street that most college kids typically resort to, the little wooden kitchen table that looks straight out of a family-owned Italian restaurant (looks like the two of you will be eating dinner together), and the paintings on the walls.

“Did you paint these?” Is the first thing you ask once you’re inside, putting your suitcase up against the wall as Taehyung takes off his coat.

“Those? Yeah, I did them early last year. My walls looked so damn plain without anything on them.”

In freshman year, Taehyung seemed like the kind of artsy hipster who shopped at Urban Outfitters and put vinyl records on his wall with Command Strips but never actually listened to them.

But the pieces on his walls aren’t vinyls of bands like Arctic Monkeys and Modern Baseball. They’re paintings, oil and acrylics and even a bit of charcoal. Still life and portraits and shadows.

You had never seen one of his paintings before. You never imagined you’d ever want to, or even get the chance to. And now, you’re standing in the middle of his apartment, and you’re surrounded by them.

“They’re…” You trail off, eyes bouncing from wall to wall as you take all of them in. There’s at least ten, one, if not two on each wall in sight. His bedroom is probably filled with them. His apartment’s not enormous, rather small since it’s only got one bedroom, but the paintings make the whole place bigger. Make it feel full of life.

“They’re alright,” Taehyung finishes. He’s already grabbing extra blankets from the storage closet in the side of the wall. “They were assignments we had during the semester so I figured that they’d be put to good use on my wall.”

“It’s very impressive,” you admit. “Kind of a flex, but an impressive flex.” There is something so perfectly Taehyung about the fact that he’s got art all over his walls, but they’re his very own pieces that he has framed and hanging, on display for the entire world to see if they’d like.

“They’d collect dust otherwise,” he says with a shrug. He tosses two blankets and a pillow your way, letting them plop onto the futon. “Are those enough blankets? It can get fucking cold in here, so I don’t want you to freeze to death or anything.”

And for a moment, you think that Taehyung has actually outgrown his asshole-y freshman days, maturing into someone with an actual moral backbone.

“How considerate,” you say sarcastically, “but I think I’ll be alright. I’m a big, strong girl.”

“Just don’t come crawling into my bed if you want a taste of that weighted-blanket life,” Taehyung says, pretending to flip his hair. “Though, I wouldn’t blame you if you did want to sleep with me.”

With a pillow right at your disposal, you waste no time grabbing it and chucking it straight at Taehyung’s face. He easily dodges, having spotted the move from a mile away, and chuckles.

“Come on, Y/N, you can do better than that,” he says disapprovingly, shaking his head as he makes his way to the kitchen. “Your arm was much stronger back in freshman year.”

Scowling, you watch as he puts on the kettle to boil, letting the water begin to bubble as he goes about his business like he doesn’t have a guest in his living room that absolutely can’t stand him.

And you realize that maybe Taehyung’s a couple of years older, a couple of years wiser, but that doesn’t make him a couple of years any less unbearable.

If you were a sleep-deprived engineering student three cans of Monster deep who, in their 4AM haze, invented a time machine to go back to freshman year, and you told your eighteen-year-old self that you would be living under the same damn roof as Kim Taehyung in two years time, freshman year you would probably sock you in the face. And ask you if you changed majors. Which, you did.

It’s not a far reach to wonder why. By the time October rolled around, the two of you had already established yourselves as archenemies until the end of time.

It was a natural progression, really. Two tiny dorm rooms right next to each other, two beds pressed up against opposite sides of the same paper-thin wall, and two disgruntled freshmen trying their hardest not to die of alcohol poisoning.

Now, you don’t have a track record for going to sleep at a reasonable hour. In fact, you don’t think you’ve gone to bed before 11PM since middle school. But is it really that irrational of you to want to get some well-deserved shuteye at two in the morning after a long day of procrastination and a long night of doing the studying you should have done during the day? Your roommate is fast asleep across from you, having gone to sleep at midnight like a regular college student who has her life together, which means that she’s immune to the fact that right next door, you can hear nothing but pounding drums making the very linoleum floor of your dormitory shake.

Scowling, you scramble out of bed, sliding on your shoes to go give a certain Kim Taehyung a bit of a reprimanding.

Why the fuck does he listen to heavy drums at two in the morning? What the fuck is he doing? Does he not own headphones, or anything that might restrict the sound to his own two ears and nothing else? Does he not have any respect for the people next door to him that might also have to listen to the sound of a thumping bass while they’re trying to go to sleep?

Some of you have 9AM’s tomorrow morning. And by some of you, you mean you.

You quietly shut the door behind you so as not to wake your roommate, dead-bolting it so you don’t get locked out and have to trudge down to the Help Desk looking like a tired piece of non-recyclable garbage, and immediately bang on Kim Taehyung’s door. He hasn’t got a roommate, and you know he’s awake, which means that if he doesn’t respond, you’ll know why.

Surprisingly enough, he does, opening the door and immediately grinning once he sees who’s on the other side, like he can’t get enough of the fact that his mere existence bothers you.

“It’s 2AM,” you tell him, in lieu of a greeting.

He checks his watch. “That it is.”

“Would you mind turning down the music? I’m trying to go to sleep.”

“This late, Y/N?” Taehyung asks, an eyebrow raised. “No wonder you’re always so cranky.”

“Maybe it’s because my next-door neighbor plays loud fucking music when I’m trying to go to sleep!” You say, already beginning to raise your voice like a loser who can’t control her emotions.

Which is exactly what you are, actually. So this is very on brand for you.

“Hmm, never thought about it that way,” Taehyung says innocently. He’s got a gleam in his eye that says otherwise.

“I’m being very nice to you right now, Kim Taehyung. Please turn your music down. Because it’s loud and you’re probably bothering other people as well,” you say, restraining yourself. If you were any more sleep-deprived you’d storm into his room and pound in his face like it was the fucking drums he’s listening to.

“But you’re my only neighbor,” Taehyung says, a bitter reminder that you were unlucky enough to be the second-to-last room in the corridor, and he, the very last one.

You inhale, trying to not lose your cool despite having probably already lost it. Kim Taehyung makes you want to tear your eyeballs out. Or buy heavy-duty earplugs off of Amazon Prime. The thing is, one of those options costs you money, and one is entirely free. So, it’s not difficult to see which one you’re leaning towards.

“Taehyung, please turn your music down, or so help me God. I’m asking nicely,” you can feel the carbon dioxide paths coming from your nose as you breathe, in and out and in and out.

“Just for you, Y/N,” Taehyung says with a grin. God. You could just straight sock him in the face right now. “It helps me focus, but so does getting to see you.”

“Perish immediately,” you tell him sharply before pulling the door shut, marching back off to your room.

True to his word, Kim Taehyung does turn off his music. Or puts in headphones. At least he’s conceded.

That is, until you wake up to a crash of glass later that morning at 7AM, coming from only one direction.

The fact of the matter is, everything you and Taehyung did that year bothered the other so immensely that hatred, pure, unadulterated dislike, was really the only thing that could have come out of it.

“You still listening to loud ass drums in the middle of the night?” You ask, eyeing the speakers by Taehyung’s television as you sit on his couch (as far apart from each other as possible) and eat some leftover spaghetti.

“I invested in some AirPods as a treat to myself last year, so yes, but don’t worry,” Taehyung says. He’s mindlessly flicking through the available Hulu options on his TV, severely unimpressed by every one of them.

“Wow, AirPods, sounds like you’re moving up in the world,” you say callously. “At least I don’t have to listen to it with you anymore.”

“I wasn’t kidding when I said it helped me focus,” Taehyung says, all matter-of-fact about it. “It was from a Spotify playlist of modern orchestral music. You should give it a listen, it really gets you into the zone.”

“My relationship with classical music has, unfortunately, been tainted by a certain someone,” you remind him, taking the time to shoot him a glare just in case he doesn’t already know who exactly is at fault.

“What a shame, you might actually like it,” Taehyung says sadly, shaking his head.

“So what are the speakers for, then? If not for your fuckin’ drums,” you ask, motioning to them again as you slurp up the last of your spaghetti. It’s not as if you’ve got some sort of sacred reputation to protect in front of him. He’s seen you at your best (the first day of freshman year, when there was still light in your eyes), and at your worst (2AM, coming out of a drunken stupor, and bedhead-ridden). Like an ex-boyfriend, or something.

“My friends really like singing karaoke,” Taehyung says. He points to the bluetooth microphones underneath the television as extra proof.

“Why does that not surprise me,” you muse to yourself. Taehyung always struck you as someone that needs people not to calm him down, but to elevate his already boisterous personality. Friends who are equally as unabashed as he is.

“Since you’re here for a whole month, we should try it some time,” Taehyung suggests, taking the empty bowl from your hands and heading back to the sink to wash up.

“You need help with that?” You ask, immediately getting up because even if Taehyung has a tendency to drive you up the wall, you’re still going to be a good guest.

“No, don’t sweat it,” Taehyung says with a shrug. “You know, I have karaoke for All I Want For Christmas Is You. Super seasonal, right?”

You dust off your hands from where you’re standing, loitering in that weird halfway point between his kitchen and his living room. Checking the clock underneath his television, you realize that it’s already past ten. And while you haven’t gone to sleep this early in a while, being in Taehyung’s apartment makes you feel all sorts of strange. Subdued and exhausted, too grateful to be your normal aggressive and witty self. And after such a long goddamn day, passing out on his navy blue futon seems like absolute heaven.

“Not right now,” you say, shaking your head. Karaoke is something that friends do with other friends. And despite currently living under the same roof, you and Kim Taehyung are not friends.

(But perhaps you will be. And that’s the scary part.)

You sigh, absolutely tanked. It’s been a stupidly long day. “Maybe later.”

Living with Taehyung is a sort of strange limbo you never, in a million years, pictured yourself in. You aren’t close enough to be friends but you’ve matured out of being the true enemies you had both envisioned the yourselves as in freshman year. The both of you walk around his apartment like you’re afraid to talk to the other, waiting patiently for the bathroom when the other person’s inside, trying to keep yourself busy with nonexistent work (it is winter break, after all) and the apps on your phones.

This is the sort of thing you dreamed of when you were a freshman. A Kim Taehyung that you could co-exist with peacefully. Someone who didn’t spend every waking moment of his life making every waking moment of yours unbearable. You used to find excuses to sleep overnight in the library (it was open 24/7, after all) just so you wouldn’t have to go back to your dorm and see his stupid face. Now, the two of you sit on opposite ends of the couch minding your own goddamn business and doing two totally unrelated activities. In silence. The only noises being his refrigerator/freezer combo when it starts making ice and the sounds of your fingers hitting the keyboards on your laptops. Maybe he’s playing a video game on the Playstation 4 he keeps out in the living room, but he has headphones on and isn’t saying a word.

It’s a very strange sort of limbo indeed, because no opportunities arise for you to become friends nor do any arise for you to become enemies. At this rate, you’ll live together for the month-long winter break and when it ends, you’ll go back to never speaking to each other again.

And that, strangely enough, makes you sad. Makes you want to reach out to him, try and build up a relationship that last ended in absolute chaos so that when you leave this place, it won’t have been for naught. You will have gained something from it, no matter how small.

But just like usual, Taehyung beats you to it.

“Hey,” he says one day, walking into the living room and already pulling on his overcoat. “You free right now?”

“Yeah, why?” You ask, shutting your laptop as you turn to him. He’s all dressed up and you’ve been wearing the same hoodie for the past forty-eight hours.

“Let’s get hotpot. I’m freezing and I want some hot soup and meat.”

So, you go and get hotpot.

Like any normal university with more than approximately three East Asians enrolled, there’s a hotpot place right off campus that many a college student frequent. You have, admittedly, not been since freshman year, but this winter break you seem to be reaching back into all of those memories anyway, like a can of worms. Memory worms.

“I’m starving,” Taehyung says as the two of you sit down. He’s already opening the menu, eyeing all of the different ingredients he can order for a simple All-You-Can-Eat fare. “Plus, I’ve been craving hotpot for weeks now.”

As if on cue, his stomach grumbles and you can hear it from across the booth.

“Even my tummy knows,” Taehyung says, placing a palm to his belly to soothe it. “Have you gotten hotpot before?”

“Yeah, but it was a while ago. I just never had the time to go for a whole two hours and pig out on food,” you say with a sigh. It’s been so long that you barely remember what it tastes like.

“Then we’ll spend every minute that we’re allowed to here, eating as much food as we want and gaining a few pounds while we’re at it,” Taehyung says, determined. The waiter comes by to pour you both some water and he already begins to order, pointing to about fifteen different things on the menu before the waiter whizzes off.

“I don’t think I heard a single word you told that guy,” you say candidly. Taehyung listed everything off so quickly that it went right over your head.

“I just ordered a lot of food, so be prepared,” Taehyung says like it’s a promise. He’s got this glint in his eye, one that tells you that you should be glad you came on a fairly-empty stomach because it’s about to be filled to the brim.

And prepared you are. Within five minutes of Taehyung ordering, there are plates and dishes and boards of food in front of you and a steaming pot of broth in the middle. There’s so much on the table that you can hardly see the marble table top underneath.

Taehyung dives right in, clearly an experienced hotpot eater. He grabs two bowls filled with various sauces and pops a couple of the vegetables into his mouth as he waits for the broth to boil. And when it begins to bubble, he immediately begins dumping everything in sight into it, from meat to noodles to vegetables. It all looks ridiculously appetizing.

When the first round of hotpot is over and done with, you already feel yourself starting to get sleepy just from the consumption overload. Taehyung, on the other hand, has apparently no limit and is already ordering more, pointing to another fifteen things on the menu.

“Never thought we’d be doing this, did you?” Taehyung asks, and you can hear the knowing tone in his voice. Like he already knows how you’re going to answer him.

“I have to admit that I never did,” you say. It must the food that’s softened you up. No wonder Taehyung invited you to a place where you can literally eat as much as you want in a two-hour timeframe.

“This is nice, though, isn’t it?” He asks.

And for once in your life, you agree. It is nice. Not just the food (though the food is very nice) but being with someone on a winter break that would otherwise be overwhelmingly lonely. Eating out with someone, even if it’s someone with whom your relationship isn’t all that strong, isn’t that sturdy. It’s nice. Because it means that, somewhere along the way, you both wanted something to change for the better.

“It is.” You nod. “Way better than all the times we fought during freshman year.”

“Remind me why we never went to our RA to resolve things like we should have?” Taehyung says, but he doesn’t make it sound like you both made a mistake. He asks because he’s curious, and because the past is the past.

“I think we were both too fucking prideful for our own good,” you say, shaking your head. You now would disapprove of you in freshman year so strongly. “We thought that we could either resolve it ourselves or spend the rest of our lives hating each other.”

“Isn’t that crazy?” Taehyung asks, holding up his water like it’s a glass of vintage red wine from the 1800’s. “That we thought that we could just spend the rest of our lives hating each other?”

“I was prepared to do it,” you say, taking another piece of meat from the hotpot in front of you, letting the steam waft from it like a tiny campfire. “With how big this school is, I was convinced that you and I would never have to see each other again. Never have the opportunity to change how we felt about each other.”

“But that’s not how life works, Y/N,” Taehyung tells you, looking into your eyes like he’s trying to reach into your soul, pick apart the memories of freshman year and watch as your relationship deteriorated as each day went by. “It doesn’t matter if we see each other every day for the rest of our lives or if, after this, we never say another word to each other. You will always have the opportunity to change how you feel about someone, even if you aren’t with them. Even if you aren’t seeing them at all.” He takes a deep breath, and reaches over the steaming pot of soup to nudge your shoulder with his finger, ever so slightly. It makes you look up at him, meet his dark brown eyes with your own, foggy from the steam. “That’s what makes us human, Y/N. We’re human because we can change.”

Your heart, still and silent, begins to thump.

“Do you wanna go to New York?”

“Today?”

It’s early in the morning on Christmas Eve, and the two of you are wide awake after Taehyung’s neighbors a floor below him called the fire department as an early wake-up call for the entire complex. You’ve always been a light sleeper—Taehyung made sure of that in freshman year—but even he woke up as the fire trucks pulled up to the fire lane next to the apartment building. He came stumbling out of his room in nothing but a t-shirt two sizes too big and sweatpants hanging low on his hips, locks of his hair sticking every which way, face illuminated by the blue, red, and orange lights of the emergency vehicles beneath the window.

And he stayed like that, even as the noise died down and the sun rose. He marched around looking like he had just rolled out of bed, barely sparing himself a second glance in the reflection of his refrigerator.

“Yeah,” Taehyung responds like it’s obvious. “If we hopped on a bus now we could make it there by nine and spend the day there. How about it?”

“You mean, right now?” You ask, just as clarification. College and its many features have forced you to grow used to spontaneity, but it usually came in the form of “I’m hungry, so I am going to eat an entire bag of Hot Cheetos at this exact moment” or “Yes, my bank account is crying but these pants are very cute,” and not, “Do you wanna go to New York?”

“In a bit. Buses leave from here every hour to go to New York, especially since it’s the holiday season. Tickets are ten dollars. We could do it, if you’d like,” Taehyung says casually, like he’s suggesting that the two of you go grocery shopping or something else equally mundane.

“Just for the day?” You ask, a girl of both many questions and a shocked expression.

“Sure,” Taehyung says with a shrug, biting into a tomato as if it were a goddamn apple. “We can go to a museum or two, eat a nice lunch or dinner, and go ice skating at Rockefeller. See the tree, too. It’ll get us in the holiday spirit, don’t you think?”

And normally an outing to New York would have you planning weeks in advance, organizing reservations and buying tickets for entry into exhibits, but it’s winter break and you’ve got more free time than you know what to do with.

And maybe you’d hate to admit it, but you need someone like Taehyung to get you off of your ass and out of the house, do something fun and spontaneous like college students do in the movies.

Taehyung is practically a movie portrayal of a college student in real life. He’s spontaneous, secretive, sage. He’s artsy and worldly, paints but is also extremely smart and well-educated. He lives in a quaint off-campus apartment by himself and spends his days making friends and keeping busy. He loves to tease you, and has that sort of lopsided smirk that all casanovas do. And he is, as much as you’d hate to admit it, always been something of a looker. He’s got the same sort of handsome, classic look that young European men in paintings from the eighteenth century have, a portrait of them in the prime of their lives. One wink and he’d send every preteen girl in the audience to their knees.

And you? Well, you suppose you’re the tragically unlucky female lead who has to live with him until classes resume.

Taehyung’s standing in the kitchen, leaning on the counter island as he scrolls for bus tickets on his phone. “There’s a bus leaving from the station in thirty minutes. Think we can make it?”

It might be the fact that you’ve been holed up in Taehyung’s apartment for the past forty-eight hours that makes you say yes. Or it’s the desperation to do something, anything, literally anything, to keep yourself busy this break.

Or maybe, just maybe, it’s that little voice in the back of your chest, one buried in the depths of your heart, that makes you go. Because there is something so wonderfully exhilarating about being spontaneous. And there is something even more exciting about it being with someone you know.

You grin. “Let’s do it.”

Two hours later, the two of you are standing outside Penn Station in New York City, staring at the road signs to try and orient yourself. It’s chilly and a little windy, but the sun beats down regardless, shadows of skyscrapers cast along the streets.

You pull out your phone to pull up the Maps app, looking up directions, but Taehyung just begins to walk down 7th Avenue, not a care in the world.

“Where are you going?” You say quickly, scrambling to catch up to him. This early in the morning, your breath still turns to fog as you jog towards him to meet his abnormally long strides.

“Do you want to go to the Met, MOMA, or Guggenheim?” Taehyung asks simply, like he’s trying to decide which type of Doritos to get in the chips aisle.

“Uh…” you are, admittedly, not that particular to the art that you’ll see. Art does not have as much of an immediate relevance to you as other things in your life, like your bank account, or your final semester grades. “Why don’t you pick the museum, and I’ll pick the restaurant we go to?”

“Deal,” Taehyung says, that same devilish gleam in his eyes, a trick (or two) up his sleeves. Only this time, you aren’t afraid of what he’s got in store.

You find that you are very much looking forward to it.

Twenty minutes later sees the both of you standing outside the gigantic glass doors of the MOMA, surrounded by a pitch black exterior about as edgy and contemporary as the pieces of art inside.

“You never struck me as a modern art kind of guy,” you tell Taehyung as the both of you walk inside, glass windows and ceilings on every side of you and a bustling crowd right in front of you. Modern art seems rather stuffy. And perhaps, two years ago, you would have equated Taehyung to such, but now, stuffiness couldn’t be the furthest adjective to describe him. He may be a little obnoxious and overwhelmingly charismatic, but he is certainly not stuffy.

“I prefer Impressionism and the subsequent periods,” Taehyung tells you, another fact you never knew but happily stow away. “But I am, admittedly, a bitch for modern art, no matter how goddamn stupid it is.”

“Good to know we’re spending our money on a museum that will definitely be worth our while,” you say dryly, taking the two tickets from the woman behind the desk. You pick up a map while you’re at it, almost certain to get lost in this maze of a museum, but Taehyung is already zooming off, forcing you to scurry through the herds of people just to keep up his pace.

“Do you know where we’re going?” You ask, entirely serious. You fumble to open up the map and suddenly you’ve got a piece of shiny paper larger than your backpack in your hands, overwhelmed.

Taehyung stops, the two of you standing right by the middle of a doorway, blocking everybody’s path. And he places his hands on top of yours, lowering the map as you gaze up at him, wondering why the heck you haven’t moved to the side so you aren’t inconveniencing the thousands of people roaming the museum. His brows are soft, a little furrowed, like someone began to knit them together but then forgot halfway through. Like he’s thinking. Like he wants to tell you something.

“No,” Taehyung says softly, large hands enveloping yours as he begins to fold the map back up, “I don’t know where we’re going.”

You open your mouth, about to prove your point, but Taehyung continues.

“But I don’t need to. Because we’re supposed to get lost,” he tells you, honest, candid, and true. “That’s the whole point. It’s not about the destination, it’s about the journey.”

You scoff, heart a little warm on the inside but wit still sharp. “You sound like an infomercial for a cruise.”

Taehyung laughs, tilting his head back in the way that says that he means it. “I’m serious, Y/N. Please. We don’t need a map. We can guide each other. All we need is faith, trust…” He pauses, leaning in and waiting for you to finish his sentence.

Begrudgingly, you give in, mostly because he’s too naturally charming not to. “And pixie dust.”

Taehyung grins, satisfied, before he catches you by surprise, takes your hand in his, and pulls you into the elevator.

Much like the corrupt businesses whose main offices are only a few minutes walk away, you go from the top down. Taehyung says that it is like a very, very long slide. You say that it’s an extremely slow walk.

He’s an art student. You don’t really know what else you were expecting. He stares at each piece until it bores into his eyes, fills up another cup in his soul, overflowing with color, with light and meaning and everything in between. Every now and then, he and you stop at the same one, inspecting each and every detail, and Taehyung will lean to the side and whisper in your ear.

He will tell you what he thinks of the medium, what he thinks of this piece and what he thinks of the positioning of that specific object. He tells you not how he interprets it in the eyes of the artist, but what it means to him, and how he perceives it. And, as the hours pass, you realize that, while you have been in museums before, you had never felt like you were truly there. And here you are, standing in front of priceless pieces of art with a boy in love with art beside you, and he holds your hand as he takes you through what brings him more joy than anything else.

(Well, besides perhaps, chemistry.)

When you reach the first painting and sculpture floor, Taehyung lets out an audible gasp.

You round the corner and before you know it, you’re standing in front of what could very well be the most famous painting of the nineteenth century.

“I forgot it was here,” Taehyung says distantly, like he’s forgotten who he’s talking to. In the ink black of his pupils, you can see the oil painting reflected, the thick blue and yellow brushstrokes, each and every line on the canvas.

“Now, this piece I’m familiar with,” you say, standing next to him and staring up at The Starry Night, an artistic feat, worth more than probably a hundred times your tuition, and a legacy. The legacy that The Starry Night left behind is one that you see still reflected today. You see it in all of the other people in this little room, clambering over one another just so they can get a glimpse. You see it in the little children who draw self-portraits in art class, Sharpies and markers and crayons littering the page.

And you see it in the boy next to you, who loved something so much he knew that he would be doing it for the rest of his life. He would be following a legacy, forever, until he forged one of his own. You look not at the art but as Kim Taehyung gazes at it, memorizing each and every stroke and imprinting it onto his brain. And you finally realize what art means: passion. It means that it fills you up, flows through your blood and into your heart, consumes you. And it means that the only thing you can do to prevent it from eating you alive is to spread it, and let others get a taste of the madness.

“It really is beautiful, isn’t it,” you muse. You don’t know much about art but when there is something so mesmerizing, so stunning, in front of you, it’s difficult not to notice.

You feel Taehyung turn his head, letting the gaze of his piercing brown eyes rest upon your figure for a split second before he turns back. “It is,” he says.

The way that the two of you go through art museums, by the time you emerge, it’s already dark and the streets are beginning to empty as tourists and cityfolk alike find places to eat, walking into every bar, restaurant, cafe, and house on the hunt for a good meal, whether homemade or curated. You had spent nearly an hour in the gift shop alone, laughing at the overpriced t-shirts and kitschy pillows.

“Where to next, m’lady?” Taehyung asks as you push open the glass doors and let the biting cold hit your noses.

“You know, we were so busy in there that I didn’t even have time to find a nice place to eat tonight,” you admit sheepishly.

“That’s alright,” Taehyung says with a shrug. “I like surprises. Spontaneity is my thing.”

“You don’t say,” you comment sagely, making Taehyung roll his eyes.

Knowing that it’s nearly impossible to get a reservation now, you and Taehyung make your way south, following the flow of traffic heading towards Times Square and keeping an eye open for any places that look relatively nice and busy, but not too busy, the perfect sign of both a delicious and available restaurant.

After walking for a few blogs, cuddling together (in a totally platonic way) to preserve as much body heat as possible in the now freezing weather, air no longer warmed by the sun’s rays, you stumble upon a tiny hole in the wall Mediterranean place. You can’t really see anything inside due to the fog on the window, forming from the combination of cold air and hot, but Taehyung does a quick google search and says that it’s a modern Mediterranean restaurant that specializes in pizza. Google says it has two dollar signs. You hear the word pizza, and everything pretty much goes out of the window.

“Hi,” Taehyung says as you squeeze through the little hallway to get to the host, voice warm and silky. “Table for two?”

“Your last name, sir?” The man asks.

“Oh, we don’t have a reservation,” Taehyung says with a shake of his head. You two are college students. It’s not like you plan ahead anyway.

“That’s okay, we still ask for every customer’s name for a more personalized experience,” the host says. He leans forward, eyes wide, waiting for Taehyung to respond.

“Kim,” Taehyung says simply as the host gathers two menus and a wine list.

“Right this way, Mr. and Mrs. Kim,” the host says, and you open your mouth to correct him (Because you are not married. You’re not. You’re not even dating. This is not a date. It’s not a date, right?), but Taehyung puts a finger to his lips and tells you to zip it. It’s almost like he’s enjoying this.

For the rest of the evening, the wait staff all address you and Taehyung as Mr. and Mrs. Kim, which is absolutely outrageous for multiple reasons: you are college students, you both look like college students, you’re not dating, you don’t act like you’re dating (other than the hand-holding and cuddling which was purely out of survival and nothing else), and most importantly, you’re not interested in each other like that. That part is obvious. Isn’t it?

When you order a glass of champagne each they call you Mr. and Mrs. Kim. When Taehyung has a question about one of the ingredients on one of the pizzas they call you Mr. and Mrs. Kim. When you order your food they call you Mr. and Mrs. Kim. When they come by to clarify Taehyung’s request of no anchovies they call you Mr. and Mrs. Kim. When they bring these massive pizzas and place them down on your table, wishing you a pleasant meal they call you Mr. and Mrs. Kim.

Mr. and Mrs. Kim, they call you.

“Everything alright, Mr. and Mrs. Kim?” Your waiter asks as you’re plowing through your individual pizzas very inelegantly.

“Yes,” Taehyung grins cheesily. “Thank you very much.”

He’s positively beaming.

“You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?” You ask, a single eyebrow raised.

“This pizza is really good,” Taehyung tells you.

“Not that,” you say with a roll of your eyes. You know that Taehyung knows exactly what you’re referring to, he’s just being annoying about it, as per usual. “The whole ‘we’re married’ thing. You like it, don’t you?”

“The “Mr. and Mrs. Kim’ thing?” Taehyung says with a smile. He’s relishing in the feeling, especially when it’s obvious that you’re not as keen on the collective nickname. “I fucking love it. You don’t?”

“We’re college students,” you remind him.

“So? That means that they think that we look old enough to not be college students. I consider that a win, especially because Jimin always says I look twelve,” Taehyung says with a shrug.

“We’re not married,” you add. It’s the truth.

“You’re right, we’re not, but Mr. and Mrs. Kim has such a nice ring to it, don’t you think? I love the way that it sounds,” Taehyung says. He basks in it.

“We’re not even dating, Taehyung,” you say with a sigh, exasperated. Doesn’t he get it? It’s weird, being Mr. and Mrs. Kim, because you never have been. There never was a Mr. and Mrs. Kim. And quite frankly, there never will be. “We’re not even interested in it.”

“Who says?” Taehyung asks, and the path he’s directing this conversation down is not one you’d like to take. It’s rocky and bumpy and unclear, hazy with fog. You don’t do fog. You like when things are clear cut and visible.

“I do,” you say with a frown. “Are you interested in dating me, Taehyung? Because I don’t know about you, but I don’t really want to date you right now. Or, like, at all.”

Taehyung pauses. His brows are furrowed again, but all the way this time. He stares down at his pizza, and he contemplates. You sit there and watch him, feeling the weight of every second as it passes by. Were you too harsh? Maybe you were. But it was the truth, and he deserves something honest, even if it’s brutal.

“Oh,” Taehyung says, like he wasn’t expecting those words to come out of your mouth. What you said has been lingering between you like smoke, refusing to dissipate. “Well, I—I guess that makes two of us.” It’s obvious that there’s something else there, just underneath the water, but you don’t press further. It sounds like he’d rather keep it hidden.

When you leave, the waitstaff bid you goodbye exactly as you had predicted.

“Enjoy your evening, Mr. and Mrs. Kim,” they say cordially as you and Taehyung pull on your coats and hats and gloves and head out the door.

“You too,” Taehyung says softly after a few seconds, like he was waiting for the words to fade away before speaking. “Thank you.”

Your bus leaves from Penn Station at 9:30 that night, and it’s barely seven. Plenty of time for you to continue exploring, see Times Square all lit up like it’s New Year’s Eve, go up to the top of the Empire State Building, or even take a peek into Central Park at nighttime, when the moon is high and the lanterns are lit.

“How about we go ice skating?” Taehyung suggests as the two of you walk along the pavement, side by side. Your hands are buried deep into the pockets of your coat.

“At Rockefeller?”

“Sure, why not?” Taehyung says. That sentence pretty much sums up your trip to New York thus far. “I’ve always wanted to go skating and see the tree during Christmastime. When else will we get the chance?”

Five minutes later you’ve paid for rental skates, a locker for your shoes, and a ticket to the rink. Visible right next to you is the enormous tree, the lights twinkling and cameras flashing as everyone scrambles to get their Instagram picture to prove that they actually went to the tree at Rockefeller Center in New York City.

When the zamboni is finished and the employees have skated over the ice enough to increase the level of friction, Taehyung and you balance on your skates as you walk towards the entrance. Slowly, everybody begins to glide on, wobbling at first before eventually getting the hang of it. There are a couple of small children holding onto those little penguin skate assistants, laughing as their older brothers and sisters guide them along the ice.

“I’ve never skated before,” you admit nervously, about two seconds before you’re about to enter the rink.

Taehyung’s mouth drops open. “Never?”

“No,” you reiterate, even more nervous than before. “I have no idea what I’m doing, I just said yes because like you said we’re in New York and it’s nearly Christmas and we should just seize every opportunity that we have and—”

“Y/N,” Taehyung says, calming you down as he ushers you away from the entrance so you aren’t blocking other people’s paths. “It’s okay. You don’t have to worry,” he tells you, holding onto your wrists to make you look up at him. “I can show you how to. It’s easier than it looks, I swear. I won’t let you fall. You just have to trust me, alright?” He shakes your wrists to catch your attention, make sure that you heard him. “Alright?”

Deep breath. Inhale, exhale.

“Alright.”

Everything is, in fact, not alright. No matter what Taehyung says, ice skating is way more fucking difficult than it looks. Taehyung steps onto the ice and it turns into second nature for him, gliding around a small circle to get warmed up as you cling onto the side railing like an idiot. You have no idea how to move, you have no idea where to go, you just shuffle along the railing with the rest of the children who are far younger than you, also trying to skate for the first time.

This is embarrassing.

“You’re a liar,” you tell Taehyung pointedly as he circles around, coming up to rest next to you. You’d point at his chest for emphasis, but you’re afraid you’ll fall without both hands on the railing at all times. “This is—” you pause, remembering that there are children present, “—very difficult.”

Taehyung just chuckles. “You have to be brave, Y/N, come on,” Taehyung implores. He holds out his hand, motioning for you to let go of the wall and take a leap of faith.

“No, I will not be brave. Please let me be weak,” you beg, scared for your life. One wrong move and you’d go splat in the middle of the rink and embarrass yourself in front of all of New York City.

“Come on, Y/N,” Taehyung says, holding his hand closer. “You said you trusted me. I told you, I won’t let you fall. Come on. Be brave.” And then he adds, leaning in to meet your eyes, “for me?”

He’s always been too charming for your own good.

Tentatively, second by second by painstaking second, you remove your hands from the railing, first the left and then the right, as Taehyung pulls you right next to him, holding on tight.

“See?” He asks as you begin to move on your own, Taehyung’s short glides pulling you along the ice. “Look, it’s not that bad.”

“I am scared for my life right now.” You blink.

“Focus on me, okay,” Taehyung says, making you meet his eyes once more. “Eyes on me, alright. You’re doing fine. You’re skating, isn’t this fun?”

“I am terrified that I am going to perish on this very rink,” you repeat for emphasis.

“Look, Y/N, look! You’re skating!” Taehyung tells you, and finally you glance down at your feet and realize that they’re beginning to move on the ice, all on their own.

“Oh my God! I’m skating! What the—heck!” You say, eyes widening in excitement.

“I knew you could do it,” Taehyung says, hands gripping on tight. You can feel the warmth from his palms seep into your own, feel the back of your hand burning from the touch. “You just had to trust me.”

“This is so cool,” you say, immediately very pleased with yourself. “I’m such a pro, I can do anything. Who said skating was scary?”

Taehyung opens his mouth to respond, but you shoot him a warning glare and he zips his lips.

“Watch this, I can even do it on my own. You’re gonna be very impressed, Kim Taehyung, just watch me!”

Within the next moment, you’re letting go of his hand and pushing yourself away from him, gliding along the ice ever-so-slightly as you begin to balance on your own.

But power is short-lived, and much like every leading male in Greek tragedies, your hubris gets the best of you, and you face the ultimate demise.

The moment you attempt to pick up your left foot, your right toe pick gets caught in a dip of the ice and you go toppling over, collapsing onto the ice in a cold, bruised ball.

Luckily, your coat takes most of the hit, its length preventing your knees from hurting into the next century, but that doesn’t make it any less embarrassing. Ashamed of yourself and even more mortified to have to face Taehyung after boasting about how amazing you are, you slowly push yourself off of the ice, wobbling like a baby deer.

“What was that, Y/N?” Taehyung says with a raised eyebrow as he skates over. He’s clearly just recovered from a laughing fit.

“Fuck off,” you mutter, and you don’t even care if children hear you. “I got excited.”

“Clearly,” Taehyung notes, eyes wide and knowing. He holds out a hand, and before you even have time to think of a snarky retort your palm is reaching out for it, letting him pull you up off of the rink. “Here. Come on.”

One hour and two fairly bruised knees later, you and Taehyung are taking off your skates and relishing in the feeling of your feet, flat on the ground like feet should be.

“You alright?” Taehyung asks. You didn’t have any massive falls following the first spectacle, but you admittedly, still cannot ice skate very well. You’ll have to figure out a way to learn.

You round out the night by going to look at the Christmas Tree. Now that it’s fairly late, the massive families with young children have all gone home, leaving only the young adults left to bask in the glory of the peak of Christmas decorations.

“It seemed bigger in photos, didn’t it?” Taehyung asks as the both of you crane your necks to look at the tree in all of its glory. “Like it was the size of a small tower.”

“Yeah,” you agree. It looks somewhat disappointingly small, now that you’re here in front of it. “Today was a lot of fun, Taehyung. Your spontaneity paid off.”

“When does it not?” Taehyung asks, proud of himself. He even has enough of an ego to do a little hair flip, making you shake your head disapprovingly. “But I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. I certainly did.”

“What was your favorite part?” You ask.

“Definitely when you were in your prime for one moment and a puddle on the ice the next,” Taehyung says, and for that, he earns a punch to the shoulder. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. But I did really enjoy ice skating.”

“Yeah, because you can actually do it,” you remind him.

“What about you?”

You think. This day has been so long, from getting woken up by Taehyung’s irresponsible neighbors and the entire city’s fire department outside your window, to hopping on a bus to New York, to museums and restaurants and ice skating and the city, you feel like you’ve lived three days in one.

“The museum,” you finally decide. “I’m not really an art person, but I thought it was lovely. Nice and heated, too.”

“Yes, the best part about the Museum of Modern Art was its modern, state-of-the-art central heating,” Taehyung repeats, making you laugh. “I’m glad you liked the museum. I was worried you’d think it was too stuffy.”

You had thought that too. And then you watched someone fall in love with each and every piece, right in front of you, and you realized that there’s more to art than putting a price tag on it and critiquing it. It’s passion, materialized. It’s real.

It’s Taehyung.

“No,” you say with a shake of your head. “I thought it was beautiful.”

On Christmas Eve, it snows.

Correction: On Christmas Eve, it snows a lot.

Correction for the correction: On Christmas Eve, it blizzards.

When you listened to “White Christmas” last night, this isn’t exactly what you had in mind, if you were being honest. Maybe an inch or two. Maybe even just a flurry. But certainly not nearly two feet worth of snow, effectively trapping you inside of Taehyung’s apartment complex until the next day because not even the snow plows are allowed to go out on the roads. Not until the snow stops.

“Good thing we don’t live on the first floor, right?” Taehyung asks with a laugh that late afternoon, taking a peek out of the window to stare down at the white expanse below you. “I’d hate to be those guys.”

“It must be so cold,” you say sadly. You’ve spent the better part of today huddled up in as many blankets as Taehyung owns in his apartment and you have no intention of shedding even one of them. Not even as you sweat right through your pajama shirt from high school.

“We can just make dinner here, tonight,” Taehyung says, fishing around in his kitchen to see what the options are. It’s already beginning to get dark even though it’s not even five o’clock. God, you hate winter.

“What are we making?”

Taehyung fumbles through the cabinets and his fridge, hunting for anything that might make a good meal. Eventually, he pulls out two cartons of Trader Joe’s vegetable broth and every vegetable in his fridge.

“Wanna make soup?”

Soup is very easy to make. You set the broth to simmer, chop up vegetables, and dump them in the pot.

But the idea of you and Taehyung sharing his tiny kitchen space, both with knives in your hands is, well, a recipe for disaster.

Luckily no knife mishaps occur, but, like the children at heart that you are, you eventually end with pelting uncooked lima beans at each other in the most adult version of a food fight you have ever had in your life. No fuss, no mess, no tomatoes or key lime pies or spaghetti doused in sauce getting chucked across the kitchen floor, the dinner table.

No, your little food fight ends with you and Taehyung kneeling down on the tile as you pick up each little lima bean, gathering them in your palms.

You make to toss it out but Taehyung stops you.

“Wait,” Taehyung says, a hand on top of yours as it hovers over the trash can, “don’t toss them out.”

“Huh?” You ask.

“I’ll feed them to the birds,” he says, taking the pile from your hands and placing all of the lima beans, along with his own, in a Ziploc bag.

“You have a porch out here?” You ask, looking around. You’ve never seen it.

“No.” Taehyung shakes his head. “They land on my bedroom window sill so I feed them.”

When you were in freshman year, you remember how Taehyung always left his window open. You know this because even though yours was always closed, anytime a police car, fire truck, ambulance, or particularly loud motorist drove by, the sound was always loudest on the wall of your room that bordered Taehyung’s. You hated how he always left his windows open, even in the winter. Wasn’t he goddamn cold?

And now, even though it’s Christmas Eve and there’s a blanket of snow outside nearly two feet deep, Taehyung will go and open his bedroom window again and feed the birds lima beans like a fucking Disney prince, and it makes your heart flutter, ever so slightly.

You end the night sitting on Taehyung’s couch, only a foot or so of space in between your bodies as he multitasks, channel surfing and gulping down your homemade soup.

“I haven’t made soup in a while, but damn, this is good,” Taehyung says, drinking the rest of it before getting up to help himself to seconds. He sticks a hand out to take your bowl as well, and wordlessly you hand it to him.

“It’s my magic touch,” you tease. It was not. Taehyung did most of the work. You don’t have much of an affinity for cooking.

“It’s my chemistry brain,” Taehyung corrects. “Chem is basically like making soup.”

“But it can kill you,” you tack on.

“But it can kill you,” he agrees, returning to the couch. This time, when he sits down, he plops right down next to you, your sides touching as you sit in front of his television, slurping up homemade vegetable soup. “How’s your major? What is it, again?”

“English with a minor in Psych,” you say over a mouthful of carrot.

“Sounds like too much reading for me,” Taehyung comments. “I’d only like picture books.”

“Yeah, wonder why,” you tell him sarcastically. “But it’s going well. I’m thinking of maybe adding Consumer Psych as another minor since there’s a lot of overlap, but I’m not sure. I’ll think about it.”

“Sounds busy,” Taehyung comments.

“Almost as busy as visual studies and chem,” you remind him. “Seriously, do you ever sleep?”

“Inspiration is a fickle mistress and the will to do my chem problem sets, even more fickle,” Taehyung muses like the two subjects aren’t the absolute bane of his existence. “But yeah, I mean, I made it this far.”

“Our majors are so different,” you comment. They are. Encompassing all sides of the college major spectrum, from STEM to art to humanities. The only thing you’re missing is a business minor. But only snakes would ever be interested in something like that.

“It’s nice,” Taehyung decides. “Because this is forcing us to talk with someone with whom we don’t already share all of the same classes with.”

“I couldn’t imagine taking the same class as you,” you say, not because you’d hate having to be in the same room as Kim Taehyung or dread the potential to be paired up for group work, but because your tastes are so different. They’ve always been different. Art, English, chemistry, psychology. Headphones or speakers. Closed windows or open. It’s always been opposites with the two of you.

“Maybe I’ll take a psych class so that way we can,” Taehyung says.

“Maybe I’ll take an art history course,” you retort.

“You’d really take an art history course? They’re awfully boring, and I’m an art major,” Taehyung says, in disbelief.

You ponder it for a moment, but then nod. Yes, you would. Even if it sent you to sleep. Because it looks genuinely interesting. “After today, I wouldn’t mind it. You showed me a lot about art, Kim Taehyung. More than I thought I would ever learn in my lifetime.”

Taehyung sighs, shutting the television off. You guys weren’t watching it anyway. You hardly realized it was on. He looks down at his empty soup bowl, and then at you. He always does that—always looks somewhere else before looking at you, like he has to muster up the courage by first staring at an inanimate object. And then he says, “You’ll never stop learning about art. Neither will I. It’s a constant cycle, learning and relearning and changing your mind and revisiting old pieces. Because art is all around us.”

He looks at you, like he’s trying to say something else but doesn’t have the words. “You just have to look for it.”

New Year’s Eve is often a time of reflecting on the year that’s passed, making a list of goals to achieve once the clock strikes twelve. Thanking your friends and family, your loved ones, for being there for you this year, and promising to be there for them as well next year.

To you and Taehyung, it’s literally your last chance to get piss drunk this year without repercussions. You’ve never stayed here, at your university in the city, for New Year’s Eve (obviously). You’d be interested in getting all dressed up to go out. Taehyung would also be interested.

And so, after a day of slouching around and making half-assed resolutions you know you won’t keep (like managing your time better. As a college student? Impossible.), you and Taehyung decide to get dressed up and go out, pulling out the winter jackets you don’t care if you lose, or if they get trashed, or if they stain with vodka. All you want is to lose your goddamn mind in a tiny club with a bunch of other wasted young adults who don’t want to stay at home on the last night of the year.

You are, unsurprisingly, a self-proclaimed not-a-going-out person, but tonight is something of an exception. It’s your last night to do this this year, and honestly, you can’t really think of a better way to end the year. There’s been plenty of ups (that A+ on your paper on the ethics of Beowulf, yay!) and plenty of downs (Global Politics in the Twentieth Century, yikes), and no better way to say goodbye to them all than with alcohol in your system. But even if, during the regular college season, you’re something of a stick in the mud, you remembered to pack a nice party dress just in case, so you tug on a little black velvet mini-dress that sparkles rainbow in the light, covered with tiny glitters that get stuck in your hair and never come out.

As you’re fishing around for some tights that you don’t care about so your legs don’t freeze off in the cold, the door to Taehyung’s bedroom opens.

Out he walks in all of his New Year’s Eve glory, a full black ensemble complete with structured belt and a leather jacket. You turn around to look at him and he stops dead in his tracks, eyes blinking like he doesn’t know where to look. It gives you a clear view of him and his simple yet extremely flattering outfit. He looks like Danny Zuko. He looks like a boy you would avoid in high school.

Funnily enough, seeing him now draws you closer to him.

“Wow, hot stuff, you clean up nicely,” You comment, tugging on some black tights with a hole in the back that no one’s going to notice.

“I could say the same thing about you,” he adds on, a hand coming up to rub at the nape of his neck. “I didn’t even know you had this.”

“I packed it just in case,” you say with a shrug.

“Came in handy, didn’t it?” He asks. He comes up to stand by you, holding his arm out for you to wrap yours around, two people on a mission to not remember most things about this night. “You ready to go?”

Stuffing your phone and wallet into your purse, you quickly link arms with him as you walk to the door, your black boots clopping on the floor like the obnoxious high-heel owner you are.

“Yeah, you ready?” You ask, doing a quick double check. You’ve got everything.

“Let’s fuck some shit up.”

And fuck some shit up you do. By the time you reach the club that Taehyung had found online, you can already hear the bass pounding through the walls, feel the ground shake from the speakers alone. Go big or go home, you suppose.

As you expected, the club is already packed with bodies. Every young adult within a twenty-mile radius is out tonight, eager to spend the last night of the year doing what young adults in the primes of their lives do best: drink. And you and Taehyung are no exception.

Like everybody else entering the club at the same time as you, you make a beeline for the bar, already itching to get something into your system. You don’t love being drunk, and you like the taste of alcohol even less, so you just order a simple cocktail that should keep you occupied for a while.

Taehyung, on the other hand, well. He seems to harbor the go big or go home mentality quite firmly. It’s obvious that he’s here to do one thing and one thing only, which is not remember what he did when he wakes up tomorrow. You watch, a little impressed and a lot nervous about what exactly he’s trying to achieve, as he downs several shots in a row, pays the bartender, and immediately pulls you into the crowd of people dancing in the center of the room.

“The more I move, the faster my body can process the alcohol,” Taehyung tells you as your cocktail sloshes around in the glass in your hand. It’s an alright cocktail. A little too sweet for you, but you suppose that that’s your fault.

“Wow, when you said you wanted to fuck shit up, you meant it,” you comment as Taehyung dances, jumping and swaying to the beat of whatever Top 40 pop song is blaring from the speakers. You can barely hear the music over the volume of the rest of the club, people shouting to speak to each other, the sound of feet hitting the floor.

Within approximately fifteen minutes, Taehyung is already fairly tipsy and eager to keep going, bubbling over with excitement.

You convince him to dance a little longer before he goes back to get more, trying to make sure at least a bit of the alcohol he had at the beginning of the night goes through his body. The song changes to something much sultrier, like honey dripping from the speakers themselves, and suddenly, the entire club’s atmosphere changes.

“I love this song,” Taehyung says, and it must be the lack of control that causes him to place a hand on your waist and pull you in close to him, making you gasp.

“Wow, okay,” you comment, blinking. Taehyung rests his chin on your shoulder, leaning down as he holds you tight, your bodies swaying in tandem.

“You don’t mind this?” Taehyung asks.

“Not if you don’t,” you respond. He’s practically drunk, and you’re even a little buzzed. There are worse things you could be doing.

“This is nice, isn’t it?” He inquires aloud. It’s a good thing that you can’t see his face, can’t watch the haze in his eyes, otherwise you might lose your footing and collapse.

“What is?”

“This,” Taehyung repeats unhelpfully.

The next three minutes are some of the most confusing ones of your life as Taehyung rests a hand on your waist, palm rubbing up and down as the two of you dance together like it means something to the both of you.

But it doesn’t, does it? You chalk it up to both of your minds not being as sharp with some alcohol in your systems. That must be it.

When the song ends, the mood disappears as well, and Taehyung’s back to his bouncy, tipsy self. He’s practically stumbling over himself once he determines that it’s time for more shots, and you’ve never seen Taehyung drunk before but you can tell that he’s nearly there. You’ll probably put a hard stop on the drinks after this round, since Taehyung is the one most familiar with the way back to his apartment and you wouldn’t mind going home and sleeping after this.

“Come with?” Taehyung asks as he eyes the bartender like he’s the love of his life.

“No, it’s alright, Tae,” you say.

“You never call me Tae,” Taehyung comments mindlessly. Even when he’s nearly drunk, he still picks up on the little things.

“I guess the alcohol is making me soft,” you admit. “You go. I’m gonna find the bathroom and hope that nobody’s having sex in it.”

“Okay,” Taehyung singsongs as you pull away from him, looking for a dingy hallway to go down. “Be safe.”

“You too, I’ll be back soon,” you promise him, and that’s when you go rushing down the hallway.

Things are certainly weird down here. It must be the feeling of the new year looming over your heads. Like this is the last night to do everything wrong without regretting it in the morning. The bathroom is, luckily enough, empty, so you rush in and splash your face with some water, not caring about if your makeup runs. You’d sweat it off, regardless. You stare at yourself in the mirror, and this feels so stupidly like a goddamn romantic comedy that it makes you want to laugh at the irony.

Beautiful male art student lead gets drunk, confuses hardheaded and impenetrable female lead who doesn’t believe in love and supposedly hates beautiful male art student’s guts. Tension ensues.

Your life may as well already have a shitty Rotten Tomatoes rating stamped on top of it.

After collecting your thoughts and praying that that white stain on the wall isn’t what you think it is, you leave the bathroom and scurry down the hallway, eager to find Taehyung and make sure he isn’t bouncing off the walls after a second round of shots.

He’s not.

Instead, he’s still standing by the bar as a beautiful young woman speaks to him, long dark hair resting against her shoulders and a model-esque smile on her face. She’s leaning in with a suggestive look in her eyes, a hand coming up to rub at the side of his arm.

You furrow your brows as you watch them from afar, a little hurt by the fact that beautiful male art student lead is confusing hardheaded and impenetrable female lead even more, but then you notice Taehyung’s hesitance. The way he backs up a little when she gets closer. How he stiffens when she touches him.

And, well, fuck that.

“Tae,” you say, rushing up to him faster than you’d like to admit. “There you are, I was looking for you.”

The girl next to him frowns at the sight of you, and it’s clear she feels no shame to hide the immediately dislike. Sure, you don’t have model proportions or a smile whiter than snow, but you have morals.

“Who’s this?” You ask, trying to be nice.

“Nobody,” Taehyung tells you, and his hand immediately interlocks with yours. Standing next to him, you can feel as the tension fades from his body, his whole demeanor relaxing now that you’re by his side. “She just wanted to talk.”

“Are you a friend?” She asks, because she knows.

“I’m a special type of friend,” you say. There’s no way she’ll leave Taehyung alone otherwise. And this is definitely on the cocktail you drank (and nothing else, you swear!), but you even reach up to plop a kiss on his cheek for proof. Taehyung’s eyes widen as you do, but he plays it off as catching him off guard and grins, wrapping an arm around you to pull you even closer. “Can we help you?”

The girl is absolutely pissed, which means that you did your job.

“No, it’s alright,” she hisses through gritted teeth before turning her sights on someone else. Someone without a friend to protect them.

“Thanks,” Taehyung whispers once she’s gone. Even though she’s probably not coming back, Taehyung keeps you close, a hand on you at all times like you’ll fly away if he doesn’t hold on tight.

“Of course,” you tell him. “You’d do the same for me.”

“She scared me,” Taehyung says, and if his red face is anything to go by, it’s clear that he’s pretty much reached his alcohol intake limit. “I’m glad you came.”

“I could tell you didn’t want to talk to her,” you say.

“Because I wanted to talk to you,” Taehyung says, and it’s definitely the alcohol that’s erased his filter. “I was waiting for you to come out of the bathroom and she just came up to me and started flirting with me. I think she wanted to get in my pants. I didn’t want her to get into my pants.”

“I know.”

“I’d much rather be with you than with her. Than with anybody else. I would always want to be with you, instead.” He tells you, keeping your hands firmly intertwined as you lean against the bartender counter.

And well, huh. That’s different. Taehyung’s aforementioned lack of a filter means that any thoughts that run through his mind immediately turn into spoken words, but you weren’t expecting those words. You never thought you;d hear them, not in a million goddamn years.

“Okay, Tae,” you say, patting him assuringly. He’s just drunk. That’s all.

“I’m serious, Y/N,” Taehyung tells you firmly, pushing your comforting hand off of his shoulder and turning to face you directly. “I mean it.”

“I know, Tae.” you reassure him. It’s easier than trying to fight him, especially when he’s this hammered. You check the time on your phone. Maybe it’s time to leave. If you go now, you’ll be able to make it back by midnight. “Let’s go home, okay? I’m ready to go home.”

Wordlessly, Taehyung nods, and the two of you leave the club before people are even thinking about ringing in the New Year.

When you reach Taehyung’s apartment, he takes off his leather jacket to hang on the coat rack and turns the television on. Only three minutes to midnight.

“I had fun,” you say, trying to lighten the conversation. The way back was silent, the only noises the sounds of New Year’s Eve parties on every block you turned onto. Taehyung kept his face forward and his eyes ahead, even as you tried to huddle close to him to conserve the warmth.

“It was sort of fun,” Taehyung halfheartedly agrees.

“Did you drink too much?” You ask. His face is still beet red.

“I don’t think I drank enough.”

Two minutes to midnight.

You frown, brows furrowing. Why on Earth would Taehyung want to drink more? What would change if he had another shot, a can of beer or a little cocktail?

Slowly, you begin to peel off your own layers, resting your coat on the back of the couch and slipping off your boots. The both of you stand in his living room as the TV begins to buzz with excitement, the broadcast of Times Square lighting up the otherwise silent, tense atmosphere. He’s only a couple of feet away but it feels like he couldn’t be farther from you.

One minute to midnight. Everybody begins to count down, and you feel yourself holding your breath.

“Will you be alright going to sleep?” You ask. Even if Taehyung’s still drunk, he’s far less bouncy than he was at the club.

“I’ll be fine. Goodnight, Y/N,” he says, beginning to walk past.

Three.

“Okay.”

Two.

“Okay.”

One.

Something overtakes Taehyung, something quick and brief. He stops right next to you and flinches, like he wants to lean in and do something, anything, goddamnit, but stops himself before he goes through with it. Everyone on television is cheering, but this apartment couldn’t be less festive even if you tried.

Taehyung sends you a small smile as the world rings in the new year, dashing off to his bedroom and slamming the door behind him.

And you stand there, in the middle of his living room like the goddamn fool you are. Turning to the television, you watch over and over as every couple in Times Square kisses, clip after clip after clip, and like a goddamn idiot, you wish that Taehyung had done the same.

The end of winter break approaches faster than you’d like it, just like it does every year. Before you know it, there’s less than a week left before classes resume and you go back to the daily college life. Less than a week left before you can go back to your dorm and pretend like this year’s winter break mishap never happened.

Less than a week before you and Taehyung go back to never seeing each other.

You’re sitting at his kitchen table, clearing out your backpack and recycling every paper, every syllabus and assignment and study guide from last semester, doing a deep cleanse of your life (because holy shit, you need it), when you come across the purchase you had made at the MOMA.

“Taehyung,” you call out before you can stop yourself.

“Yeah?” He asks from where he’s sitting on the couch, reading a James Joyce book. You love that novel. It was one of the very few you read for fun last year.

You take the small paper bag in your hands, walking over to the couch. “I almost forgot about this, but since winter break’s starting to wind down, I just wanted to give you this as a thanks. For everything.”

“You got me a belated Christmas gift, Y/N?” Taehyung asks as you hold out the gift, clearly something thin like a posterboard or an art print.

“If it means I don’t have to buy you two things, then sure, consider this a belated Christmas gift,” you say with a laugh, sitting down a foot away from him as he slowly opens up the packet. “It’s sort of cheesy and very basic, but I just wanted to get you something nice as a thank you.”

Out Taehyung pulls is a print of van Gogh’s The Starry Night, big enough to fill up the empty spaces on his walls, so every inch of his apartment, of his life and his home, is filled with art.

“Oh my God,” Taehyung says, mouth agape. “This is…”

“It’s basic, I know. But I know how much you loved seeing it in person, so I thought that a memory of that would be nice,” you say, trying to ease the nervousness that has bubbled up inside of you.

“It’s wonderful,” Taehyung says, and you swear you’ve never seen him so happy, other than perhaps when you saw the real thing. “This is so fucking thoughtful of you.”

“I just—you told me a lot about the art we saw that day, but when we reached this painting, you were speechless. And I sort of knew, then, that it was your favorite piece. Because you didn’t have to explain it with words,” you tell him. “I could just tell. It was like your whole body warmed up the moment it came into view.”

“I’m touched, Y/N.” Taehyung beams. “This is all an art student could ever want, really. To be able to know that their love for art meant something to someone else.”

“I just wanted to say thank you for everything. Taking me in, cooking me food, being really nice me despite me entrenching on your living situation.” You smile.

“I was happy to do all that stuff,” Taehyung tells you honestly. “I’ve had a lot of fun this winter break, even if we’re still trapped on campus.”

You loved getting to go home for winter break your freshman and sophomore years. You loved being able to escape from the college mindset and just relax, no deadlines, no assignments, no worries.

But looking back on it, you think that you’ve had the most fun this winter break, stuck at school, a five-hundred-dollar plane ticket short, with your dorm neighbor-slash-nemesis from freshman year. Never have you done so much in so little time.

“Yeah, me too,” you say, thinking back fondly. It feels like this winter break has lasted for years, but also as though it went by in the blink of an eye,

“I have something for you as well,” Taehyung says, scrambling up to dash into his room. “Consider it just a Christmas gift, because I don’t really have to thank you for letting you stay at my apartment for free for a month.”

“Roast me, why don’t you,” you muse jokingly, rolling your eyes as Taehyung fumbles around in his bedroom before he emerges with an equally flat, similarly-sized gift wrapped up in some spare tissue paper.

“I don’t recall you buying anything at the MOMA,” you tease as Taehyung hands you the gift, settling back down on the couch to watch as you open it.

Slowly, you peel back the tissue paper, and when you reveal what he’s wrapped up for you, it drops to your lap.

It’s a portrait of you, done entirely in pencil. It’s you smiling, with your eyes closed, lashes fluttering. He’s memorized your entire face, drawn it neatly onto this piece of sketch paper, like he was just passing the time and suddenly he had a picture of you on his hands. He’s even remembered where your freckles go.

“What’s this, Tae?” You ask, like you don’t already know.

“Uh, it’s you,” Taehyung says sheepishly. “I wasn’t planning on drawing you, I didn’t have a gift in mind, but I was practicing sketches the other day and an hour later I looked down and I had drawn you. And I felt bad for not telling you, because that’s weird, so I thought that you could see it.”

“You drew a portrait of me? Just randomly, from memory?” You ask, looking down at the sketch in your hands like it’s just ruined your life.

“Yeah, so?” Taehyung asks. He looks terribly nervous.

“So, that’s—people don’t just do that, Taehyung. You don’t just draw a picture of someone purely from memory while you’re practicing sketching,” You say, reeling back as he tries to lean in, attempts to explain himself.

“What do you mean? I did that. I thought of you and I drew you, what’s so bad about that?”

“I don’t know if you missed the memo, Taehyung. I told you in New York. We’re not dating, Taehyung,” you tell him, so firm and certain in your conviction that you hardly pay attention to the way his shoulders sink. “We’re barely even friends. I’m not interested in you like that. Please don’t think otherwise.”

“Don’t tell me what to think,” Taehyung snaps, and he’s mad. Really mad, not like the fake anger from freshman year when you tried to get back at him by being an equally-annoying neighbor. “Don’t tell me how to feel. I drew you, Y/N. Not because I’m obsessed with the idea of us getting married, or because you’re my muse or some bullshit like that. I drew you because I thought of you, and I draw what I think of. Don’t tell me what to fucking think.”

“Do you like me, Taehyung?” You ask, on the verge of shouting.

Taehyung’s furious. “So what if I do? Huh? What difference does it make? You’ve told me over and over that you don’t like me back, so why does it matter? It’s not like I’d ever have a chance.”

“I told you because I didn’t want to confuse you,” you hiss, standing up and beginning to grab your belongings. It’s clear that this conversation is turning sour.

“Confuse me? You didn’t want to confuse me?” Taehyung shouts. “You did a damn good job at that. Telling me in New York that you hated being called Mr. and Mrs. Kim, but holding my hand as we walked around the city and looked at art together. Kissing my cheek in the fucking bar but then patting me like on the back like I’m just a sadass friend of yours. Can you blame me if I was confused, Y/N?”

“I told you,” you say again.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Taehyung bites. “I’m sorry that I fucking fell in love with you, even though half of the time you acted like it was alright. My mistake.”

“It was your mistake. I never said I wanted to date you,” you tell him firmly. You refuse to take the blame for something you had made so explicitly clear.

“Can you fucking blame me for being hopeful?” Taehyung asks. He’s standing up, about to head back into his bedroom, absolutely furious. “You held my hand and kissed me on the cheek and I thought that meant that you felt it, too.”

“Taehyung—”

“Keep the portrait, Y/N,” Taehyung spits. “I don’t ever want to see it again.”

He slams his bedroom door.

It’s a good thing you made friends with some upperclassmen when you were a freshman.

After packing your belongings into your little suitcase and standing in the lobby of Taehyung’s apartment complex, you remember that one of your old friends who had graduated last year still lived in an off-campus apartment since he would be beginning graduate school at the same university.

“Yoongi?” You ask when you hear him pick up your call.

“Y/N? What’s up?”

“Long story,” you say with a sigh. “Would it be alright if I stayed with you until school started?”

“Holy shit, you’re on campus? What the fuck, yeah, sure, you know where I live. I’ll be here whenever you stop by,” he says without question.

Fifteen minutes later, you’re standing outside his door, double checking to make sure you’d got the right apartment.

You barely get the first knock in before the door swings open to reveal Min Yoongi himself, clad in all black and looking very tired.

“Are you okay?” You ask. He looks exhausted.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he says, ushering you inside.

“Have you been up all night?” You ask, resting your suitcase against the wall.

“I took a brief nap between two and three, but yes, I have been,” he says like it’s natural.

“You’ve always been a chaotic sleeper,” you say with a shake of your head.

“The grad school grind stops for no one,” Yoongi says with a sigh. “What’s up? Why are you on campus?”

“It… it’s a long goddamn story. Do you have time?”

“I have a piece due for a small indie band tomorrow at noon that’s barely finished,” Yoongi says.

“Oh,” you say. You suppose the story can wait. Yoongi offered up his abode to you until classes resumed if you needed it, and there’s no way in hell you’ll be going back to Taehyung’s.

“What do you mean, ‘Oh’? I got loads of time,” Yoongi says. He plops down on his couch and motions for you to sit next to him. “Tell me everything.”

Yoongi has always been a particularly good listener. Not just to other people’s words, but to music, to the sounds of the chords and the notes of the piano. He has an ear for things that most others would never notice.

It’s the same thing for when he’s doling out advice.

“To clarify,” Yoongi says when you’re finished telling your story, thirty minutes later. You had warned him that it would be a long one. “You had once hated his guts, but no longer hate his guts?”

“I stopped hating him after freshman year,” you admit, more to yourself than to Yoongi. It’s true. The moment the two of you stopped seeing each other, everything dissipated.

“And now you like him.”

“We’re friends,” you say, tentatively. Maybe less than friends after the disaster that just went down in his living room.

“But he drew you a portrait of yourself,” Yoongi mentions.

“I said that it was complicated,” you say with a frown.

“It doesn’t sound that complicated,” Yoongi says. And maybe he is a graduate student with more life experience under his belt than you, but you think that it’s pretty complicated.

“What do you mean?”

“It sounds like he likes you, and you like him. I wasn’t really interpreting it in any other way,” Yoongi says casually.

You reject the notion immediately. “I do not like him.”

Yoongi frowns. “Would you really be here, in my apartment having a relationship breakdown, if you weren’t confused about your feelings for him? Really?”

“I just needed to get out of his damn apartment, that’s all,” you say, avoiding eye contact. Yoongi has this very annoying habit of being extremely reasonable all of the time, and it bothers you immensely.

“Sure, okay. Y/N, I’m not gonna dictate how you feel and try to change your mind, or anything. But if you can look me in the eye before the end of your break and tell me, one-hundred percent honestly, that you don’t like him, then I’ll believe you,” Yoongi tells you simply. “How about that?”

It sounds like a very doable deal. Maybe it’s not doable right now, but it certainly seems possible in the future. In the future, specifically.

“Fine. But you’re making a big deal out of nothing,” you tell him matter-of-factly. Why does he care? It’s not like you’re worried about it.

As it turns out, you’re worried about it.

You’re worried about it because even though you’re not in the same room, not in the same building, not even on the same goddamn street as him, you’re thinking about him. Thinking about how much fun the two of you could be having right now as you relish in the last couple days of your winter break before the cold reality of school hits.

Think about the things you could be doing. Exploring, going out to restaurants, finding new little gold mines in this city that you call home. And instead, you’re moping around your friend’s living room wishing that the two of you hadn’t ruined the whole thing.

Maybe you had been too harsh. Taehyung has a right to be mad at you for lashing out at him. How was he supposed to feel? You held his hand and kissed his cheek and pretended that it was still freshman year, that the two of you were still just two people stuck together by unfortunate circumstances. Acted like nothing had really changed despite the years going by. Going through with all of these adventures with him knowing, in the back of your mind, that once classes started back up, you’d probably never make an effort to see him again.

Drawing a portrait of you says one thing, but dancing around him says another. Every time you fucking see Yoongi in his own goddamn home you try to muster up the bravery to tell him that you don’t like Taehyung the way that he thinks you do, and you can’t.

He sets up his pullout couch in his living room for you when you go to sleep that night, you dream of Taehyung. Envision him wandering the halls of a nameless museum, priceless pieces of art hung along every wall, from van Gogh to Monet to Picasso. He turns back around so you get a view of his face, dream up his curly black hair and soft eyes, sparkling with wanderlust as he roams the corridors, stopping to spare a quick glance at every painting he passes.

And then at the end of the hall, he pauses in his tracks, looks up at the painting on the wall. You watch as the camera zooms in on what he’s looking at, what made him stop in his tracks the moment he laid eyes on it.

It’s your portrait. A simple piece of paper out of a sketchbook, graphite on the coarse canvas. It’s barely more than a line drawing, your eyes here, your nose there, the little freckles that decorate your skin. It’s only in one color and still, even now, it leaves you speechless. Taehyung made that. He drew that, line by line. He made that for you.

You wake up in a cold sweat at seven in the morning. Yoongi’s fast asleep in his bedroom, and you know he won’t be waking up until the hour on the clock reads double digits. Frantic, you scramble through your backpack until you pull out the sketch paper a little bit larger, a little bit thicker than the rest, still wrapped up in tissue paper.

Pulling the paper away to reveal the canvas, you stare down at it in the hazy light of the sunrise, small rays beginning to stream through Yoongi’s window. Your fingers trace along each line, picturing Taehyung as his pencil scratched along the paper, over and over until it looked perfect. Taehyung made this. He sat down, thought of you, and drew this.

A picture may be worth a thousand words but this one doesn’t say a thousand words. Instead, it only says three.

Curiosity getting the better of you, you flip the sketch over to see if there’s anything else he’s drawn. There isn’t, but you find a little note in the bottom right corner.

Y/N,

I hadn’t realized that I had drawn you until I was nearly finished with this. My bad, but it was too late to stop. I don’t know if I’ll ever give this to you, or if I’ll just have a guilty conscience for the rest of my life, but just in case I do, I want you to know this: art inspires me, and you are no exception.

Tae ♡

When Min Yoongi wakes up that day and trudges out of his bedroom, he finds you sitting on his pullout couch, staring down at a sketch in your hands. When you turn to look up at him, he sees your red eyes and wonders how long you’ve been out here, crying.

“I can’t do it, Yoongi,” you tell him.

“Do what?” Yoongi asks, even though he already knows the answer. Why else would you be letting your tears drip onto your portrait?

“Tell you that I don’t like him. Because I do. And I can’t lie to him like that.”

Yoongi grins. He knew you’d come around, like you always do. You may have quite the stubborn streak, but you’ve got a big heart, and it always gets the best of you.

He sits down next to you, glancing down at the portrait. It’s gorgeous. Taehyung did a wonderful job. He looks at you as you cry over a sketch of yourself, and he thinks that, even if he doesn’t really know this Taehyung character, the two of you will make a perfect pair.

“You should tell him that,” he tells you with a nudge. You look up at him, scared for your life. “I think he deserves to know.”

The night before winter break ends, you ask Taehyung if tenants of his apartment complex are allowed on his rooftop. He says no, but also says that his landlord is out of town for the holidays.

In the biting cold of a mid-January evening, you climb up the stairs of his apartment complex and push open the heavy metal door to the rooftop, a gust of wind nearly blowing you right over. Looking around, you spot Taehyung in nothing but a sweater and a scarf, sitting on the edge of the rooftop and looking out over the city.

“Aren’t you cold?”

He turns around to find you standing next to him, wrapped up in a long coat, gloves, a beanie, and a scarf.

“I’ve got a warm body,” Taehyung tells you, looking back out into the sea of lights.

“This is scary, isn’t it?” You ask, sitting down next to him. Your feet dangle off the ledge, and normally you’d be insistent on sitting in the middle of the rooftop where no danger can befall you, but this feels a lot more personal.

“Why did you want to meet me up here?” Taehyung asks, all business.

“I just wanted to talk,” you tell him. “You know, since it’s the last day of winter break and all.”

“It went by fast, didn’t it?” Taehyung muses.

“I remember failing my final and missing my flight like it was yesterday,” you remember fondly, laughing. It seemed like the end of the world at the time, but there’s always a silver lining. You just didn’t know what it was, back then.

You think you have a pretty clear idea of it now.

Taehyung chuckles, letting the two of you fall into a comfortable silence as you gaze out at the rest of the city. Taehyung’s apartment building isn’t particularly tall, but it’s got enough height to it that it feels like you’re looking out over a place you hardly recognize. There are so many things you don’t know about this city, despite having lived here for over two years. So many things you are aching to find out, and only one person you’d really like to do it with.

“What’s your New Year’s Resolution?” You ask randomly, interrupting the quiet that had befallen the both of you.

Taehyung jumps at the sound of your voice piercing through the atmosphere, caught off guard. You lean in, expecting him to answer.

“Oh, um, I guess to draw and paint for fun more. A lot of the stuff I’ve been making in school I’ve been doing because I had to,” Taehyung says quickly. It’s sort of obvious that he made up the resolution on the spot. “Uh, what’s yours?”

You press your lips into a thin line, smiling to yourself. “To be honest.”

Taehyung scoffs at that. “Believe me, Y/N, you are more than honest. Brutally so.”

“To others, yes,” you reason. You always were a tell-it-like-it-is sort of person. “But I’m not very good at being honest with myself.” You swing your legs slightly as they dangle over the ground below, kicking into each other. Taehyung turns to look at you, waiting for you to continue. “Yoongi says I’m a very stubborn person. I always have been. Once I determine something is the way it is, it’s very difficult to change my mind.”

Taehyung chuckles to himself. He’s probably quite familiar with that aspect of your personality.

“But I realized recently that sometimes, things change without you even realizing it, and that instead of being afraid of those changes, you should embrace them. So that’s what I’m trying to do. I’m trying to be more honest with myself, because I think I’ll make everybody around me, including myself, happier.” You continue.

“Good for you,” Taehyung tells you mindlessly, turning back to face out towards the city.

“Kim Taehyung, I’m not finished talking, yet,” you demand, forcing him to look back at you. “I hated you in freshman year. You were the worst thing to happen to me that year, annoying and full of yourself. And I didn’t know you in sophomore year. We stopped talking and decided that it was better if we never did again.”

He lets out a little huff of breath, visible in the cold night air.

“But I do know you now. You offered me a place to stay when I missed my flight after what might have been the worst final I have ever taken in my entire life. You took me to New York, and we made vegetable soup together. You let me hold your hand and kiss you on the cheek, and you drew me a portrait,” you say firmly. He looks up at you and finally, finally, his eyes aren’t foggy. There’s no haze, no mist. You look into his eyes and you can see yourself reflected in the ink black of his irises. He’s beautiful. He’s sitting on the ledge of the roof of his apartment building in the middle of January with nothing but a sweater and a scarf on, and he’s beautiful. “You are the best thing to ever happen to me.”

Before you can even take another breath, Kim Taehyung places a cold palm on your scarf-covered cheek and pulls you into a bruising kiss, his other hand wrapping around your waist as you shuffle along the ledge, closer and closer. And even if his hands are cold and his lips are chapped, his mouth is warm and soft, wanton and desperate. You beam at the feeling of his lips on yours, wrapping your arms around his neck as you ring in the New Year for real. This is how it was supposed to be. This is what you had been waiting for.

When you part, Taehyung’s lips are a cherry red to match the tip of his nose. His brown eyes are twinkling, and not from the light pollution of the city.

“Can I be honest, too?” Taehyung asks. He’s got the biggest goddamn grin on his face. “I think I’m in love with you.”

The words are music to your ears. “My honesty is rubbing off on you,” you tease. “Because I think I’m in love with you, too.”

Smiling, grinning, positively fucking beaming, Taehyung wraps his hands around you and kisses you again. It warms your heart from the inside out, blossoms like a tulip in spring. When you started this winter break, you thought you had reached your lowest point, but you’re finishing it on a high that you hope never fades. He loves you, he loves you, and most importantly, you love him back. And as it turns out, the movie where beautiful male art student lead and hardheaded and impenetrable female lead are stuck with each other for four weeks has a happy ending, after all.

↳ links are broken, but don’t forget to message me with any thoughts or feedback!

#taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #bts fluff #bts angst #bts scenario #v fluff #v angst #v scenario #taehyung scenario #bts imagine #taehyung imagine #v imagine #bts au #taehyung au #REPOSTING BC IT WASNT SHOWING UP IN THE TAGS #w: four weeks

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isuspectyouhavefantheories · 3 years

Text

Search for the Sun 🌞

So this is Part 2 of “the Sun” series.

Part 1 found : https://isuspectyouhavefantheories.tumblr.com/post/640838971892662272/the-crossroads-to-the-sun here!

Ok so, NSFW, I can’t figure out how to make this appear shorter or have it appear under the cut cus mobile Tumblr sucks eggs. You heard me.

Takemura/Female V fic

Rated MA, for mature, sexual themes, read at own risk.

—————————————-

Somewhere in the Mojave....

“We need a new carburettor for this thing V and someone’s gonna have to re-solder this whole board before we can even do that! We aren’t going to be getting our cargo vans very far like.” Saul sighed, closing the hood of the large van with a heavy thud as he wiped the grease and dust from his hands. His expression was his usual deeply worried frown and she noticed how even as he wiped his hands clean they remained oil stained and grubby. He’d been toiling over engines all day, putting one fire out after another.

“I’ll see what Mitch and I can do but it’s gonna take a little while. We’re already trying to get a handle on repairs to the solar panels and honestly that’s the thing I want to make sure we have fixed before night fall. We can stop for the night, recuperate.” She gave him a pointed look that he only waived off. “I’ll fix up the vans in the morning and we can get going after. We have some time before the next storm, quit your worrying.” V offered, punching his arm lightly, Saul only smiled in return.

“How’d you end up being my second in command? I thought that was supposed to be Panam?” He chuckled.

“She’s got her hands full at the moment.”

“With?”

“Dick.”

Saul balked at her and V only waggled her eyebrows, nodding her head in the direction of a lightly rocking AV on the outskirts of camp.

“Incidentally, his name is also Dick.” She chuckled.

“God damnit, PANAM!” She watched in mild amusement as Saul stormed away toward the aforementioned vehicle to reprimand his second for her blatant public fornication. So she heaved herself forward, ignoring the mild ache in her body and forcing her legs and arms to continue obeying her. V decided that she would save herself the mental anguish of tangling with the solar grid and get out of camp for an hour at the least. Evidently fighting burning migraines and muscle spasms was trying at the best of times, especially when attempting to keep up with her duties to the clan.

She didn’t want to sit around and be a burden on them, regardless of Saul and Panam’s insistence on her getting more rest. In truth, she loathed inactivity, too much time to start thinking, or worse, listening to Johnny, who was still holding out the hope she was going to turn the clan around and storm Mikoshi instead of this slow shicide she had carved out for herself instead. The twilight hours were the worst, because there was nothing she could do, hours she had spent staring at her tent roof, only to give up and lay under the stars, at least then she had something to occupy her. It had been especially hard the last few nights and she had more than once woken to Saul staring down at her with a worried look she would wave off and tell him that really, she was fine, dusting the sand from her and continuing on with her day at camp.

She admired the location for what it was, they had chosen a decent spot for the camp and they had some useful vantage points. Any Raffen trying to get the jump on them would be in for a surprise, they’d see their asses a mile wide.

She pulled Evelyn’s cigarette case from her utility belt pocket, igniting it with a match she then shook out to extinguish as she breathed a long drag.

“Fuuuck.” Johnny groaned appreciatively.

“You’re welcome.” She laughed as she gazed at the expanse of the desert. It’s wild beauty marred by burnt out car wrecks and pile upon pile of garbage. Her eyes landed on yet another old ruined petrol station. She couldn’t help but let her mind wander back to the week previous. Her night with Takemura had been everything to her. Laying there in his arms, basking in the beautiful aftermath listening to him breath as he slept, watching the steady rise and fall of his partially plated chest. She had wanted nothing more in the world than to just stay there in that abandoned truck stop, for the rest of their lives they could be there and she’d have been the happiest woman alive. But as she stared down at his sleeping face she knew she was living a pipe dream.

He was loyal to the bone to Arasaka. She would never be enough, she could never pry those chains from him. Even knowing what she had told him, about Hanako and Saburo, she imagined he had dusted himself off the next morning and returned to his master tail between his legs like the well trained guard dog they made him into. Why wait until morning to watch him fumble and ruin a perfectly good fuck, one for the history books, by seeing him slink back to the clutches of the Emperor’s family? Just to feel the raw sting of his departure, the rejection in his blind obedience to the people that saw him only as a pawn to be played. No. She decided to rip the proverbial band aid off. She was a quiet and stealthy thief, expertly manoeuvring around him in silence and then pushing her thorton far enough out of ear shot from him then just... driving away. She had to admit, it was shitty. To just leave him there without so much as a goodbye. But she knew if she had waited it would have been another day of trying to convince him to let her go.

Or he might have even managed to convince you to go back to Arasaka.

Johnny’s interjection to her train of thought startled her and she watched him materialise, cigarette in hand, perching with his legs dangling from a delapidated hoodoo rock a few yards in front of her.

“I wouldn’t have gone with him Johnny. I wasn’t going to just let them shred you into bits, fuck man, gotta give me more credit than that.” She was annoyed he could even insinuate such a thing, especially given where they now stood.

“You didn’t take your blockers during your little roll around with Mr Miyagi.” He groaned and her cheeks immediately flushed a deep crimson. “I know you were thinking it for a moment there in the... aftermath.” He sighed, looking down at her from his perch.

He took off his aviators and pursed his lips as if he was about to say something pivotal to the narrative but more than likely just as irritating as his previous comment so he decidedly closed his mouth, thinking better of it and returning his gaze to the endless desert plains. The fact that she could read him so well now was not lost on her.

“I wasn’t going to let them hurt you. Believe it or not you’re my friend, Johnny.” He glanced down at her again and a smile attempted to tug at the corner of his lips but he put his shades back on and coughed into his closed fist to cover it up.

“Well thanks. I guess. Doesn’t matter now anyway. We’re done for as is I suppose.” He breathed out a plume of holographic smoke that seemed to float off into the desert. “But you’re still thinking about him.” He deadpanned, making her sigh in irritation.

“Look.. it just kills me because... Goro was my friend too. And now he’s...” she smoothed her hair back from her face, letting her hand slide to the nape of her neck and head drooping down to look at her weathered and scuffed steel toe boots, her tool belt slung across her hips, held together by the tied sleeves of her blue net running jumpsuit she had to wear half down due to being in the beating sun while working all day. She could see her skin was already blistered with another light sunburn but also some sun freckles newly blooming. Her hands, more calloused and rough now than in her entire career as an amateur merc. She frowned. “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. I’m here now Johnny. I know that I shouldn’t keep living in the past but... let me at least mourn. Please?”

“Alright, alright. I get it. Here, just take some advice from a guy who’s had to... leave behind a few broken hearts in his day. Get drunk. Get fucked. Get angry. Get over it. Always worked for me anyhow.” She rolled her eyes at the rocker boy, letting her hand fall to her side, taking the last drag of her cigarette wasn’t even appealing to her so she quickly flicked it away.

“Aw.” Johnny grumbled. “The cherry is the best bit!” He whined but she ignored him. V made to turn back to the camp but some faint movement along the horizon caught her eye. She pulled out her binoculars and got as close as she could to the slightly glimmering and fast approaching object. Upon closer inspection she realised it was a car. And not just any car.

His car.

She froze, glued to the vehicle rapidly approaching the camp.

What the fuck does he think he’s doing?

-———

He admitted to a small amount of apprehension about this move to approach head on as he pulled up alongside the Basilisk, giving it a long stare and praying silently to whatever gods were out there watching over him that he had found the right Nomad camp this time. He had already had to blast his way out of two raffen pits as of yesterday and wasn’t thrilled about the possibility of having to do so again.

A tap on his car window brought him from his thoughts and he rolled it down.

“What brings you here, friend?” Mitch asked, Saul and Panam on the sidelines, iron at the ready.

“I apologise for the intrusion. I mean you no harm, I am simply attempting to locate someone. A friend.” He explained.

“Who’s your friend?” Saul called after him.

“Her name is V.” The Nomads grew quiet, looking between each other. “Perhaps she has passed by here? Stopped for supplies?”

“Excuse me?” Panam sputtered.

“V doesn’t have ties to Arasaka anymore. Suggest you move on.” Saul moved closer to the car window, pushing past Mitch.

He leaned his arm against the top of the car door frame, letting his revolver rest against it in a menacing if threatening show of dominance. This here was the Aldecaldos stomping ground. And he’d be dead in the ground before he let some corpo asshole get their hands on V. Takemura’s eyes hardened a moment on the large nomad, his hands righting on the wheel now as he internally scanned the area with what limited tech he still had to work with. She searched for her signature but either his implants were all now truly offline or she wasn’t here.

“I am not with Arasaka.” Takemura thought he would feel pain at uttering those words, but if anything, each word made him feel lighter.

“Yeah sure. Just covered in Arasaka cyberware, driving around on Arasaka wheels, wearing a full on uniform for their security detail. Totally.” Panam quipped.

Takemura sighed.

“Anymore.” He amended, but the trio still eyed him sceptically, he felt it best he stayed in the car for now.

“Is she here?” He questioned, quickly surveying the camp to try and find her himself, a small kernel of hope planting in his chest as he looked through the small crowd that had gathered by them, hopeful to catch a glimpse of her but Saul’s hand reached out for him roughly, pulling him up to the open window by the front of his shirt with a resounding clunk.

“I don’t know what you’re playing at here but if you think for a second I’m just gonna let you-.”

“Saul. Stop. It’s cool.” Takemura’s head whipped over Saul’s shoulder to the source of the voice. His heart clenched painfully upon seeing V finally.

She was a vision. Almost like a beautiful mirage that had been conjured up by the desert heat and his possible dehydration but upon closer inspection he knew it had to be her. Her every freckle and scar burned into his memory, he would know here anywhere, even caked in soot and sand.

“V, come on, we don’t even know if he’s got people tailing him. We’ve already got our hands full with Militech for Christ’s sake, let’s not go adding to that pile.” Saul glared down, unconvinced by Takemura’s own words.

“I wouldn’t be saying this if I thought he was a danger. He’s not. Please just let me talk to him.” Saul groaned but he made the mistake of meeting her gaze and knew there was no telling her no so he released Goro and opened the door to the car.

“Out. Follow her.” Saul grumbled, hand still leaning against the top of the door, but before Takemura could step out funny a strong hand clamped down on his shoulder. “Try and pull any funny shit though and I’ll drop your ass myself. No hesitation.” Takemura hadn’t realised just how big Saul was before but did not let that deter him.

“I will be sure to keep it in mind.” Goro responded in an uninterested tone, not really registering him, only focusing on V, before quickly making his way to her side. He reached out for her but she had already turned away and was walking up to a trailer, ascending a small flight of stairs before reaching the screen door. She threw him a look over her shoulder and motioned with her head for him to follow.

—————-

Once inside the privacy of the trailer V rounded on him, her eyes filled with confusion and anger.

“What the fuck, Goro?” She hissed. “Why are you here?”

He swallowed thickly, never realising that even through all his fighting to get back to her side, he had never even put his reasoning into words. And he had always had a defined reason for everything he did, it was something he was fucking known for. But now, standing here he couldn’t even begin to rationalise any of his actions, only that being here now already felt more right than anything in his life ever had. He opened and closed his mouth like a gaping fish. She noticed his silence but was quickly distracted by his haggard appearance. Her eyes widened however at the lack of the dim lights on his cybernetics.

She reached for him cautiously, her fingertips brushing against the red outer wiring of his throat that no longer glowed with the hum of electronics and now simply shined in the dim light, essentially now just useless plastic.

“Your implants...” she whispered, tracing her finger down the line of the metal overlay of his neck and to the edge of his jaw, Goro watching her every motion with laser focus. “Why are they..?”

“They were deactivated when I failed to return a few days ago.” he wanted to reach for her, to touch her, that’s all he’s thought about day and night since she left him. “I was starting to think I was going to die out there before I found you.” He chuckled softly yet he inwardly savoured how close she was, her scent, near unchanged since their night together. The scent was now infused with a small background of motor oil now that clingged to her hands but it was strangely fitting for her.

“Why?” She whispered angrily at him, her eyes burning with unshed tears.

He raised his own hand now to weave with hers, holding it to his heart as he stared down at her with so much sureness, so much care and devotion that she felt unworthy.

“I defected, V.” Her eyes widened at him but still she said nothing. “I am... I can’t go back. If you only have a short time left, then... there isn’t anywhere else I want to be. I want to be here with you, I don’t want to miss a second of you ever again. I-.” He closed his eyes, terrified to see her reaction but was nearly sent spinning as she thrust herself without warning at him, her arms suddenly wrapping around his shoulders. His own arms instinctively wrapped around her, returning the embrace yet part of him still feared the worst.

Did she pity him? Is that why she said nothing? Was this her letting him down gently? She was always too kind for her own good.

“Goro... oh my god.” She breathed against him and he tightened his grip around her burying his face in her neck, breathing her in deeply. Feelings of peace, serenity, a meaning in his life he had been searching for ever since he escaped the slaughter house of Chiba-11. He thought that meaning was to serve those who had uplifted him from that barbaric place. But they didn’t save him. They used him.

It was this tiny trembling powerhouse of a woman that barrel assed her way into his life and irrevocably entangled herself with him, she had been the one who reignited his purpose. Opened his eyes and never lied to him. She had never left him behind. Only when she thought he was truly beyond her reach did she finally resign herself to letting him go.

But now, in the security of her arms, he knew he was never going to let that happen again.

“I can’t believe I finally found you...” he breathed, letting the feeling of her arms around him be engraved deeply in his heart, the lines on his face began slowly relaxing as he stroked the dip of her back gently.

V finally looked up at him and he swiped away some stray tears from her slightly flushed cheeks with a curled finger before caressing them in his hand fully. He stared down at her with an adoration she had never imagined him capable of, it felt to her as though she had never been truly seen before now and could only grasp his outstretched arm and reach for the back of his head pulling his face closer to hers when he finally moved forward, reuniting her lips with his in a passionate kiss. Her fingertips grazed over his jaw lightly, drawing a sigh from him and letting it meld into the kiss as he tried desperately to hold her closer.

She pulled back from him but his lips trailed after hers again, loathed to be parted from her just yet, but she placed two fingers on his lips to halt his pursuit and worry shot through him again.

“I think we should explain to the clan before Saul comes in here and decks you.” She chuckled, reaching up to kiss him on the cheek sweetly and he leaned into her touch, the sudden panic receeding, before smiling back at her and nodding. She made to move to the door, hand already pulling the handle open when his own grasped her free one and interlaced their fingers, grinning like a cat down at her.

“So they don’t shoot me on sight.” He joked, V could only huff lightly but her own smirk betrayed her feigned annoyance.

“Hush. Be nice.” She snipped.

They stepped out of the trailer and at the bottom of the stairs to the trailer was the holy Aldecaldos trinity themselves. Panam looked between the two and their interlock hands with mild confusion first before realisation dawned on her and she mouthed ‘that’s him?’ rather more obviously than she thought she had but never the less winked at friend.

Goro looked down at her curiously but V just shook her head.

“She’ll tell you herself at some point.” V whispered, leaving him far more confounded than before.

“So? What’s this about?” Saul stood in front of them now arms crossed but glaring heatedly at Takemura.

“Drop the tough guy act Saul come on.” She shoved him playfully but Saul only scowled deeper. “He defected.” Saul’s eyebrows rose in surprise for a moment but suspicion reaffirmed itself at the forefront of his mind once more.

“Bullshit.” Saul spat.

“I left Arasaka because I no longer believe in them.” He looked down at V’s hand in his and gave her a reassuring squeeze. “I believe in V. And she has put her trust in you and your clan. I wish to stay with her. You know that... she does not have long.” She squeezed him

back at this, hearing the slight waiver in his voice at that but he continued. “I will work, I will do whatever is needed of me in order to stay by her side.” He bowed his head politely and Saul was at a loss for words, casting his gaze back to Panam and Mitch but only receiving a tired sigh and a shrug from Mitch and a rather heated scowl from Panam that said ‘if you don’t let the ninja stay I’m going go get an emp and blast an AV out of the sky again’, and Saul could only sigh tiredly. He rubbed his forehead with the heel of his palm in a gesture of defeat but his eyes spoke an understanding and no inherent objection to the arrangement.

“Alright. You work, like the rest of us. We all pull our own weight here and there’s plenty to do.” Panam fist pumped in the air and squealed with glee, making V laugh at her antics but Saul gave her an exhausted look before grinning devilishly. “ Since there’s another mouth to feed and person to arm, we’re gonna need to do a recount on inventory. Thanks for offering to do it Panam.” Saul rounded on his heel, making for his own tent as the orange pink swash of dusk settled over the desert. Mitch followed after while Panam gave her a quick pat on the shoulder before departing to her new hell, inventory.

“Look at you guys, just the picturesque happy couple living on the edge of the law, running with nomads, being all in love and shit. Warms my cold dead pixilated heart.” Johnny drawled as he leaned up against the trailer.

V chose to ignore him but grinned Takemura wrapped his free arm around her and rested his head atop hers as he rubbed loving circles into the small of her back, she sighed into his chest and grinned like a fool. Nothing was going to bring her mood down. Not raffen, not Johnny, not the broken to shit solar panels.

She groaned suddenly at the memory of her ever growing list of chores left.

“V?” He questioned, straining his neck down to see her.

“Fucking solar grid.” She hissed ruefully into his shoulder before pulling away.

“I’ve got some solar panels to fix and a carburettor to solder before the day is over.” She groaned, but Takemura squeezed her reassuringly.

“Lead the way.” He chuckled.

“You want to help?” She asked incredulously.

He brushed his hand through her soft chocolate brown coloured locks, twirling the tail ends around her shoulders between his thumb and index. He had a feeling his new unconscious obsession was going to be her hair.

“I’m going to have to learn aren’t I?” He chuckled. “And I have a feeling I’m going to like being your student. Lead on, sensei.”

She giggled before pulling away from him, hands still interlaced as she tugged him towards the solar panels on the far side of camp.

—————

“Welcome to solar grid maintenance 101, class is in session.” She announced.

Goro sat on a rock beside the van, next to the start of the solar grid that went from the back of the van to the further reaches of the edge of their camp, with a small group of four guarding the grid perimeter at all times. He noticed a few of them giving him wary or curious looks but did his best to ignore them. He was sure in time he would seem less threatening but he knew he would only achieve this through time, example and not relying only on shows of good faith. He leaned forward, arms resting against his knees, watching as she peeled back a flexible plastic covering over the front of the panel, uncovering a plated and wired grid he assumed is what absorbed power from the Sun.

“Ok, so. You need a fully wired and calibrated solar panel, batteries, a charge controller and an inverter.” She gestured to each item in front of her. “Once you have these it’s just a matter of following instructions. Then you gotta figure out what your output is gonna be, simply calculate watt hours by using each of the electric tools and machinery’s power ratings, multiplied by the time in hours it will be running...” He continued to listen to her intently, taking mental notes as she went on and was pleasantly surprised by how much she knew. The woman was practically a walking, talking encyclopaedia for off grid living.

He imagined she had learned this with her original nomad clan.

“And... vóila!” The grid hummed to life, the electrical tickering and slight glow from the panels confirmed this. “And tomorrow you’re gonna help me dismantle, clean and stow them.” She slowly rose from her kneeling position but wobbled a bit, Takemura’s lightning fast reflexes kicked into action and he reached out to stabilise her. She gave him a sheepish yet thankful smile.

“Are you-?”

“Just light headed, I stood up to fast.” His levelled gaze cut through her, narrowed eyes studying her intently. “And we’ve been sitting in the sun for an hour. I’d say I could go for something to eat though. Haven’t had anything since last night come to think of it.” She pulled away, attempting to move away from the subject of her health as quickly as she could, but her hand stayed resting open palmed against his chest as she stared almost through him. She still couldn’t believe he was here. Standing next to her in the flesh. She couldn’t even really fathom eating right now but she knew she had to at least try to keep her strength up. But fucking damn. Of all the ways this day was going to go, this was certainly not one of them, not that she was complaining.

His finger captured her chin and tilted her gaze to his, pulling her from her thoughts as if he could sense her inner turmoil.

“What is the expression, ‘I am here for the...’ ah.” He looked up to think an moment as if the phrase was written in the sky before seemingly finding it among the clouds and looking back down at her, grinning from ear to ear. “‘I am... ‘In this for the long haul’, as you say.” She snorted a laugh at him letting her head fall foreword against him as he pulled her further into his embrace. “So stop looking at me as if I’m going to suddenly disappear.” Her fingers squeezed his in response and she looked up resting her chin on his shoulder now.

“Promise?” She whispered, making his chest rumble in laughter.

“Yakusoku.” He affirmed before kissing her forehead loving.

————————————

They had eaten their fill of some synth beef chilli at the camps mess tent and Goro wasn’t about to disclose how much he had actually enjoyed the hot meal. Wandering around in the desert for a week he had been living off of whatever least expired protein bars and soda cans he could find, which had been almost as awful as the scop burgers and noodles in night city, but at least they had been some way warm.

They had made their way to V’s tent which was set up next to her Thorton and some work benches and a trailer with two bikes standing in it. He recognise one to be her beloved Arch and the other a gold and silver heavy terrain 700cc bike with the clans name spray painted boldly along the side of it.

“Here we are. Home sweet home I guess. For now.” She sighed, flopping down into her large sleeping cot with a heavy plop. Takemura stood awkwardly for a moment before fastening the entrance flap closed. There was a fold up chair and two electric lamps illuminating the small space. He suddenly felt out of place but V was quick to pick up on his uncharacteristic fidgeting, giving him an inquisitive glance.

“Cot’s a bit small but we can manage for tonight. Or there’s another cot in storage we can go and-.” Takemura shook his head.

“We can manage.” He grinned sheepishly and she giggled at him, taking a seat on the edge of the cot, patting the spot next to her as an invitation to join her. He took two long strides and he was at her side once again, his hand snaking around her waist as he leaned his head gently on her shoulder. Leaning into him, V interlaced their free hands together, marvelling at how well they fit together.

“You must be exhausted.” She sighed, extending her hand to his face where she swiped away a errant few strands of silver hair that escaped his otherwise well kept topknot, her cool fingers a welcome sensation against his forehead.

“Not really.” He stifled a yawn and she looked up at him pointedly, his own gaze eluding her.

“Evidently.” She chuckled, but a sudden flash of inspiration hit her and she grinned up at him.

“What are you doing?” He asked warily as she began to slink herself around to kneel in front of him, her hands running up and down his thighs in a firm yet teasing trail.

“Well we do have a lot to do in the morning and you require a good nights sleep for what’s coming.” He eyed her suspiciously but couldn’t help the small grin threatening to tug at the corner of his lips. “Couldn’t possibly let you lie awake all night and screw yourself over tomorrow.” She ran her hand over the growing bulge at the apex of his legs, which he opened wider as she settled between them.

“V...” he breathed his head beginning to loll back and eyes flutter closed, his breath hitching she she unzipped him and pulled him of the confines of his suit pants, his member springing free, already fully hard. She gave him some light pumps, enclosing her fist around as much of him as she could. He wasn’t a monster in size, but impressive.

“Speaking of impressive cocks.” Johnny’s voice pierced her mind and she wanted to scream. “Can we leave mine out of this. Please, if yourself gonna fuck the corpo grandpa just take a fucking omega blocker so I don’t have to as well.” She shook her head and sighed, pulling away from Goro.

His eyes fluttered open.

“Is something wrong?” He breathed.

“Just gotta take something before I forget.” She smiled back at him reassuringly before popping two of the red pills.

She turned back to him and something about seeing him sitting there, disheveled clothes, cock standing to attention, lips parted and panting lightly in anticipation, sent a rush of some indescribable feeling through her system. He watched her hungrily but patient in his pining, she couldn’t help the heat between her own legs beginning to rise. She locked their gaze, lips still curved into her signature teasing grin and she began to pull off her tank top painfully slowly, dragging it up to her chest. He watched her relieve her body of the sweat and dirt stained cloth throwing it over her head and groaned lowly when he saw she wasn’t wearing anything underneath save for her tattooed flesh. Lotus flowers bloomed colourfully at her shoulders, and just between her pert little breasts. He traced them with his eyes and felt his body tense in suspense as she saunter toward him, a sultry sway in her hips saying she knew exactly what she was doing to him. She sank down to her knees again before him, her fingers wrapping around his still hard manhood making him hiss at the contact before a strangled gasp tore from his throat as she resumed pumping him again. He reached out his hand to touch her but she slapped him away lightly.

“Ah, ah, ah.” She wagged her finger tauntingly at him, then running them down his chest back down to curl back around his member, giving him a tug that made him groan once more. “Look. Don’t touch.” She then began to lower her lips to him, his eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head as she encased him in her warm pink lips, her devilish tongue flicking along the sensitive underside of his cock. He moaned louder as she moved against him but forced his hand over his mouth to stifle himself. They weren’t alone out here so he had to remember to control his vocalisations but she was not making it easy.

He leaned back further down on his elbows watching her intently through hooded eyes as she devoured him, her mouth sinking down slowly, taking him all the way to the hilt letting him hit the back of her throat with an audible gag that made him whine in need then gliding back up, dragging her lips back to the tip, letting her tongue swirl around him a few times before swallowing him once again. He struggled against his urge to fist his hands into her hair as she kept up her ministrations, fearing she’d stop what she was doing, because what she was doing was so fucking good he thought he was going to die if she didn’t finish.

“V... please I’m going to....” he gasped, one hand stretched out behind him as he bit the knuckle of his other hand to surpress his cries.

He felt her chuckle against him, his end so close he could practically taste it as she continued to bob energetically against him. A few more pumps and he had to bite his knuckle so hard he drew blood so as not to roar from the force of his climax, blowing his load in her mouth which she swallowed it readily. He swore he saw stars for a moment, a blinding light show all of his own as he rode the high for as long as he could until he fell back against the cot, attempting to catch his breath as V released him from her mouth with a faint pop.

She pulled herself up and crawled over him, resting her chin against his chest that now rose and fell erratically from his ragged breathing, waiting there patiently for it to even. He lifted his head to look at her, small beads of sweat clinging to his forehead but a stupidly pleased grin now plastered his face as he lifted a hand to caress her cheek and stroked her cheekbone with the pad of his thumb tenderly. He held her there for a moment, unsure if it was the aftermath of his climax or the low lighting of the tent, but to him, right now in all her dishevelment, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever beheld. He dragged her up to him, lips meeting hers at last, tasting her felt like home, regardless of the lingering taste of himself on her lips. Goro pulled her closer to deepen the kiss before pulling away to gaze at her agin. She was the one panting now, her full pink lips, that had only a few moments been driving him to near insanity were parting enough for him so see her devilishly nimble tongue and the flush dusting her cheeks was starting to do things he didn’t know could be done, his member already twitching to life again, slowly but surely.

“You feeling more relaxed then?” Her laugh, like a tinkling bell, brought his attention back into the room and he could only smirk down at her slyly.

“Partially.” He lifted himself up fully wrapping his arms around her then flipping them so she was trapped underneath him. “But I’m afraid I’m more awake now than I was before.” He whispered, lowering his lips to suckled at her collarbone where he began to trail a searing line of bites and kisses down her chest, stopping to tease her nipples as he lavished them thoroughly, leaving her shivering and gasping uncontrollably beneath him. “The opposite of the desired effect I think.” He chuckled lowly, lifting his hand to her mouth and clamping firmly over it to quieten her mewls while he began to drag the fingers of his other hand up to the bottom half of her netrunner jumpsuit. Untying the sleeves he pulled the zipper further down to the end. It reached just above her mound, a few more inches on the zip and he’d have been able to access her. Shame, he though but immediately tugged the skintight nano plastic material down over her hips, her purple thong coming with it. He didn’t pull it all the way down, allowing the material to bunch at her knees before pulling back, letting both her legs stretch up to rest against his shoulder as he stared down at her, a shit eating grin breaking over his lips as he soaked in the sight of her, trapped in his web. She huffed at him in mild displeasure at the loss of control but her eyes widened when she felt his fingers trace her slit softly. His arm curled around her legs, anchoring them against him as he continued to tease her.

“What are you-?” He silenced her with two fingers plunging inside her, making her arch her back as she barely managed to stifle a moan. He thrust his fingers into her wetness again and again, all while his gaze fixed on her face, contorted by pleasure as he took delight in her every twitch and convulsion.

He let another finger enter her, curling them, tickling a sensitive collection of nerves inside her. Her juices dripped down his hand, his attention switching down to where his fingers pumped relentlessly and he felt himself moan at the sight of her absolutely soaking his hand. He felt his cock strain against her thigh but he ignored his growing need. He had work to do. She nearly cried out when he stopped, her eyes finally fluttered open to see him gazing down at her, smirking triumphantly above her.

“Hey.” She pouted, wiggling against him only making him chuckle quietly.

He pulled her legs free finally, tossing the jumpsuit to the far corner of the tent but trailing his hands from the underside of her thighs, to the under side of her ankles, yanking up sharply which pulled her further down the cot so her ass now rested on his lap. Her ground himself against her, his free member brushing against her slit as he draped each of her legs against either shoulder. He leaned foreword her legs stretching to rest nearly by her ears with how flexible she was. Without warning he entered her, both of them gasping quietly. He filled her so completely, V let the feeling wash over her until he began moving at an achingly slow pace. He found purchase at the head of the cot, using it to drive himself harder and harder into her. Reaching up she caressed his head in her hands, his eyes closing at the contact, savouring it, then opening again to see her.

His breath hitched in his throat, not just at the majesty of her wild curls fanned out and framing her so perfectly. Not at her being stretched and splayed out for him, like a cover pin up they used to sneak into the army barracks, back when he did foolish brazen things like that, no. The trust in her eyes. She was letting him take control, letting him take her, however he wanted. She wasn’t scanning the room for the nearest viable exit like she did in every room or so far away in her mind he wondered if she could even hear him above the noise of the engram erasing her. She was right here, willing and ready for him. He wasn’t going to last long, not after already climaxing earlier but he refused to leave her hanging, letting his thumb roll her clit firmly, over and over. He leaned forward to swallow her cries as she came undone beneath him, his own release coming not to far behind her.

He leaned back, letting her legs down on either side of his hips, but stayed connect with her. He leaned back into her, kissing her forehead, her cheeks, her nose then her lips, making her smile sleepily against him.

“You’re still in your clothes.” She taunted against his shoulder as he chuckled.

“It’s hard to think about anything clearly with you around.” He mumbled against her neck.

“Hey, don’t you dare fall asleep on me dickhead.” She snorted, poking him enough to make him groan then move to the side, allowing her to stand up from the cot. She walked over to a duffel bag where she pulled a loose white shirt from and threw it on. The fabric reached her knees and he scoffed at how small she was.

“Oi, no sand in my bed, get those dusters off.” She ordered and he sighed, pulling himself from his bliss to shed his coat and other garments leaving him only in his boxers. He fell back into the cot heavily, rubbing his eyes as a yawn escaped his lips. She rejoined him, crawling and moulding herself into his side while his arms immediately snaked around her as he buried her face into the crook of her neck, V stroking his hair soothingly.

For the first time in what felt like forever, he went to sleep without knowing where he was going to be tomorrow and not caring in the slightest.

#goro takemura #cyberpunk 2077 #takemura x v #goro takemura x v #goro x v #takemura goro x v #takemura goro #the sun #search for the sun

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glynnisi · 3 years

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ShieldShock Holiday Fic 2020 FOR @ava-rosier

At Ao3: Snowbound Christmas

Prompts:

-There's only one hotel room left and it's a blizzard outside and There Is Only One Bed.

-Either at a Mall or an Airport during the busy holiday season, a villain is trying to steal/ruin the holidays and Steve and Darcy, who are both there for Reasons, team up to foil the dastardly plot.

-When Darcy wore her new, risqué Captain America xmas/holiday sweater to work that day, she didn't expect that he would actually...y'know...SEE it.

---

So, it’s been a while since I wrote. Hi, friends!!! :) But I adore ShieldShock still and will always adore @mcgregorswench and the ShieldShock Holiday Fic Exchange. I tried to capture the feel of your prompts, @ava-rosier . I’ve done holiday in the airport before but can NEVAH get too much of THERE IS ONLY ONE BED. Hope you’re having a wonderful holiday, enjoying seeing 2020 finally end, and that you’ll enjoy your ShieldShock holiday fic gift!!! :)

---

Snowbound Christmas

Darcy startled as the car door scraped open over deep snow and a gust of wind blew in to steal her breath. It was even colder than the previous times. Steve could move fast, but not faster than the blizzard winds. He shook his head as he slammed the door closed behind him, sealing them in the relative calm. The only sound at first was the rustle of her shivering. He turned the car on again and they both savored relief as the air around them warmed.

She shifted position in her seat. “Steve, my friend! No room in the Inn?” Darcy tried to sound upbeat rather than weary. “I’d so hoped the eleventh try would be the charm. I mean, those two were raved over in Google as ‘simple’ and ‘budget’. You wouldn’t think that would draw a crowd.” She continued to watch the snow fall, eyes going out of focus.

Steve shook his head and pushed his snow-damp hair back. “I tried all five places in the village. Cut across town on foot rather than wasting gas.” He frowned. “I’m too stubborn. Should ‘a stopped twenty miles back where there were more possibilities. I’m sorry, Darcy.” He kept his eyes on the road as he started slowly moving. The snow was falling hard, gusting winds whipping it around them with abandon. Even with four-wheel drive, good snow tires, and perfect reflexes- Steve didn’t dare go more than fifteen miles per hour. Driving was hazardous, more by the minute.

Darcy shrugged her shoulders. “The forecast was off. I thought we had more time before it got bad, too. I swear! I only closed my eyes for like twenty seconds. When I opened them again it looked like I’d missed seeing three inches fall. You must be freezing. The other motels are two miles away, aren’t they?” She shivered, both sympathetically and because the car was still warming up.

“I’ll be fine.” Steve sighed again and glanced at Darcy’s phone before staring ahead of them again. “Any other ideas?”

Darcy squinched up her features, “well…” She was glad Steve focused his attention on the road. She worried that her idea wouldn’t be well received. “We could ask the others for suggestions? Surely Tony owns something between here and the City.” Darcy held her breath. She’d seen Steve and Tony clash at the Avengers Upstate Base enough to know that he didn’t want to ask Tony’s help.

Steve reached in his jacket pocket and handed his phone to Darcy, groaning in resignation. “Had the same thought. See if he’s replied?” He steeled himself.

Darcy laughed merrily as she read his incoming texts.

“That bad?” Steve’s frown lines deepened.

Darcy’s lips twitched. “Nah, buddy-o. Tony’s busting your chops about being a damsel in distress. He reminds you that he’s been away from Pepper for a week and has injuries to rest up from. Says to cool your heels at a summer lake cabin of hers. Coordinates and key code provided. And to resist the urge to crash dramatically into the lake as it wouldn’t be very festive of you. Cabin can be drafty, but was cleaned recently. Which, yay! They were going to come up last week for a dating anniversary celebration before the weather changed and he took that mission.”

Steve nodded and blew out an impatient breath. He glanced at Darcy again, “does anyone other than Jane know you’re with me?” His tone sounded wary.

Again, Darcy shrugged and avoided his gaze. “I dunno. If the local mechanic didn’t have sick kids at home, I’d be driving myself through this like I planned. Probably would’ve crashed in a snow drift by now or be caught in the sadly-parked madness on the interstate you were smart enough to skip. Why? I’m sorry that coming for me put you behind schedule. You’re too kind, putting yourself out for little ole me. You probably have plans with close friends, or something.” She trailed off, uncertain if that was a fair assumption regarding Steve. As much time as they’d spent together since they met over a year before, he seemed to always be working.

Darcy frowned, sad for Steve. And for herself. She’d tried in vain to shake the crush she had on the loneliest Avenger. He seemed determined to stay lonely and fill his time almost entirely with work. Whenever he came to Jane’s lab, she struggled not to let her extreme thirst for him show. She ended up babbling most times, griping about stuff and talking nonsense. He came by the lab a lot, so she had many embarrassing memories to cringe about.

“Not really. And don’t apologize, Darcy. I wanted to help you. I’m glad you’re with me rather than stuck, or worse.” Steve chose to ignore part of her question for the moment. “I was just going by Tony and Pepper’s party at the Tower to keep some peace between us. Then I figured I might go to Brooklyn to see the crazy lights they put up there these days, and then maybe head down to D.C. to see Sam. Nothing firm. No big deal.” He turned into a skid and eased up on the gas. Anyone else would have registered alarm at the need to maneuver like that. The majority of drivers would have wrecked. Sleet mixed in with the precipitation.

Darcy nodded, silent. She clicked on the coordinates Tony had sent and turned up the volume on the phone directions. When there was a pause, she spoke up, “still sorry to keep you from your party, lights, and Sam. I’m relieved that you weren’t just planning to ignore the holiday at the Upstate Base again this year, though. No offense, but hearing you did that last year made me mad at you.” She let out an indignant huff and blinked back tears.

He raised his brows, but didn’t reply at first. Finally, not wanting to seem rude, Steve asked, “mad? Why?” He fought against both flickers of hope and melancholy.

Steve tried not to wish for what he believed he couldn’t have. He’d found that Darcy won friends easily, but rarely let anyone get close enough to know her the way he’d like to know her. She kept things light and funny, using her humor as a shield against intimacy. He admired her ability to deflect when she used it with others, lamented it when she used it with him.

The first day they met, Steve fell hard for the brash, strong-willed, funny, gorgeous dame. And then he met her boyfriend, Ian. Even after that relationship ended, Darcy made it crystal clear that she saw Steve only as a friend. Her emotional shield pushed him back like the strongest of force fields. She bristled if he held a door or pulled out a chair for her. She acted like it was weird if he did anything for her- like bringing her coffee when he was getting some for himself in Jane’s lab.

Also, there was Darcy’s apparent dislike of soldiers. She cursed agents and soldiers as ‘jack-booted thugs’ every time a piece Jane’s equipment misbehaved. He’d overheard Darcy rant to Jane about her sister’s hard life with a military guy Darcy disdained as ‘Soldier Boy’. Steve was a soldier. He'd never regretted it until it came between him and the only 21st century woman he’d met who captivated him.

Her tone as she spoke next brought Steve out of his reverie. “I know that those you love from your time were more like family to you… that you still mourn all you lost.” Darcy avoided looking at Steve, “But, I consider you a friend and I don’t like for anyone to treat my friends bad… especially, themselves. Thinking of you doing busy work and walking echoing halls alone. Imagining you eating frozen dinners and training alone while the rest of the world celebrated? Too sad. Awful. I wish you would’ve let me, I mean, someone, anyone, know that you didn’t have plans.” Darcy swallowed hard around the lump in her throat. She’d held that in for the better part of a year and was terrified that she’d overstepped enough to anger Steve. If her voice sounded brittle, she couldn’t help it. Her feelings for Steve ran deep. She’d taken one look at Steve Rogers and lost her heart irrevocably.

Steve shook his head and joked to offer one correction, “I hardly ever eat frozen dinners.” He cleared his throat. “What did you do for Christmas last year?” Steve’s tone was mild, unreadable. He’d spent a lot of the previous year’s holiday week reliving the pain of seeing Darcy being kissed by Ian under mistletoe. It was a harsh blow since he’d heard rumors that they’d broken up and dared hope for a chance with her. Thinking of that terrible moment still filled Steve with potent jealousy.

Darcy cut a glance Steve’s way. “I went to the usual lame lab holiday party, complete with joke gifts and too much mistletoe. Then, un-fun family time. As soon as I could escape my dumb sister Beth and ‘Soldier Boy’, I got back to Jane’s. I made Thor watch Christmas cartoons while I struggled to explain the pop nuances of them to him. We drank eggnog. I exchanged joke gifts with him and Jane and Erik. Then we all helped serve Christmas dinner at homeless shelter. And I ate too much and fell asleep on the couch at Jane’s place that night. I ‘peopled’.” She glared at Steve and repeated in an accusing tone, “’Peo-ple-d!’”

Darcy frowned as she also remembered Ian cornering her under mistletoe before Christmas. He tried to get back together with her until she threatened to tase him. It had cast a pall over Darcy’s entire holiday. That was one interaction with people she did NOT look back on fondly.

Steve chuckled weakly, “and you’re mad at me for not ‘people-ing?’”

“You never want anyone to pity you in any way, but then you do stupid stuff like that! I mean, I was drunk when Thor told me, but it made me CRY.” Darcy shook her head and looked away, frowning, angry. “Sorry. Said too much. Not my business. I know. Sorry.” She hunched her shoulders as though concerned he might offer a rebuke.

Steve's face fell into a sad grin. “No need to… It’s nice that you worry about me, Darcy. Thanks for that.” He resisted the urge to cover her hand with his. “I’m sorry I made you cry.” Genuine distress filled him, that she’d cried and that he had no right to offer comfort. Something in her reaction brought out his deepest protective instincts.

Careful to avoid distracting Steve from driving, Darcy poked his rock-hard bicep. “Pfft. Silly. You’re not alone, even if you try. You have friends. I’m your friend. You know that. Right?”

“Friends.” Steve nodded, grim. “Yeah. Thank you for being my friend, Darcy.” He sighed, long and low.

Darcy nodded, unable to speak around the lump in her throat.

---

Soon, they arrived at the coordinates. A tiny cabin nestled in the deepening snow. It was dark, but for a dim light visible through its large windows.

Darcy moaned, “finally.”

“I could carry…” Steve’s voice trailed off as Darcy threw her door open and jumped out into the knee-deep snow. She almost fell, but righted herself. The winds swirled snow and sleet all around her.

“Shit! Cold!” Darcy trudged with purpose towards the cabin. “So cold! And, eww, wet. Oh!” She input the code Tony had sent for the front door lock and shoved inside. Darcy kicked off her snow-covered boots and dropped her coat inside the front door. She scurried to the bathroom. “Some of us don’t have super bladder capacity!” Her brief view of the cabin interior was minimal. Dark shapes stood out against the eerie snow light through the windows.

Steve slammed his car door and followed. He shook his head and yelled back, “nobody has that” as he picked up Darcy’s coat, shook snow off, and hung it on a hook. He toed off his boots and set them and Darcy’s boots near the fireplace. Then, he peeled off his snow pants and hung them on a hook near the door. They’d kept his jeans dry.

“Don’t get your tights in a twist. I’m hurrying!” Darcy called from the bathroom.

Brows raised; Steve surveyed the cabin. He flicked light switches and swore under his breath as low, golden light bathed the tight space. The room was dominated by a low bed and floor to ceiling windows. A Christmas tree decorated with lights stood by the bed. There were at least a dozen pillows and a sheer hanging canopy laced with warm string lights over the bed. There was no sofa, only two reading chairs and a small table in front of the fireplace. A kitchenette took space along one wall. It had a well-stocked wine rack.

Mostly, there was the ridiculously romantic-looking bed. Face prickling with heated anxiety, Steve found a thermostat and started the heater. Then, he began to build a fire in the brick fireplace. The cabin was cold and the windows were more suited to airiness than warmth. The back walls were brick, attractive but cold in winter weather.

“Uh, Steve?” Darcy sounded sheepish; voice muffled by the bathroom door. “Can you hand me a blanket or look for a robe or something? I’m sorry to trouble you. My pants are soaked up to the knees and I can’t put them back on. They’re freezing. Wet with snow.”

Steve closed his eyes, still for several seconds. He looked around for a closet and saw instead a wardrobe. He grabbed a black silk robe, frowning at the sheer and gauzy red alternative hanging beside it. The top shelves held baskets of swimsuits, shorts, and other summer clothes. He took the black robe off the hangar and walked to the bathroom. He knocked and held out the robe, eyes averted. Then, he went back to work on the fire.

“Thanks, I didn’t think. Just ran to the bathroom. I…” Darcy stopped as she got a good look at the cabin. “Oh, holy… uh, night.” She cut a careful glance Steve’s way.

Steve shook his head and chuckled. “Something like that. Don’t worry. I can sleep on the floor. I’ve done worse.” He arranged another log in the growing flames and warmed his hands.

“You can NOT! Don’t be stupid. I won’t attack you. Promise. We both need to sleep and there’s room for two if we remove a few hundred pillows.” Darcy’s tone sounded more certain and stubborn as she talked. She rolled her eyes at him. “Make a line of pillows down the middle of the bed as a dividing line if you want to keep me away. Or, I can do it.” She frowned at him, set her jeans near the fire to dry, and moved to the kitchenette. Darcy opened the refrigerator, freezer, and cabinets to see what they had to work with. “Sorry about my coat and boots. I was gonna get them, I swear.”

Steve frowned, disliking her urgent anxiety. “No problem.”

Darcy opened a bottle of water and drank it. “I didn’t dare drink much water while we were stuck in the car, but I still needed a bathroom for at least the past hour.” She offered him a bottle, which he accepted and downed before returning his attention to his work. Darcy moved food from the freezer to the refrigerator to thaw. She opened a couple of cans of soup and put them on to simmer, and sat in a reading chair. “I checked the weather forecast while I was in the bathroom. We’re not getting out of here on our own power before tomorrow night at the earliest.” She tightened the belt on the robe and leaned towards the fire, hands outstretched. “Nice. Getting a little warmth there. Thanks.”

Steve excused himself to the restroom. On his return, he sat in the other chair. He watched the fire’s progress, then turned his attention to the deepening snow visible through the windows all around them. “Quieter now. Slowing down, or a lull before more blizzard.”

“Lull, according to radar. Fresh snow absorbs sound. Something about air between the flakes dampening vibrations.” When Steve gave her an impressed look, Darcy grinned, “I saw it in a meme on the Internet. Must be true.” She winked at him.

Steve returned her grin. “Internet. So helpful.”

“Except when it’s REALLY not.” She made a face, both sad and angry. “Beth met ‘Soldier Boy’ online. And, of course his worst notions get amplified there. Bleurgh.”

Careful, Steve dared, “what branch of the Military is your brother-in-law with?”

Darcy choked on water. “Br... Whaa?” She shook her head, hard. “God, no! Don’t say that. It might come true if you say it. Eww! Grandma Esther'd roll right out of her grave to beat the ever-living sh… heck… pardon me, out of Beth if she marries that Nazi wannabe.” Darcy shuddered dramatically. “Crud. They’ve been dating more than a year. And, Christmas… You may be right. Ugh.” She spoke as she texted into her phone, “‘If you marry him, I’ll give you kitty litter as a wedding present, used kitty litter. Dumbass. BTW I hate him. He’s awful.’ Ugh. Delete. Delete. Delete.”

Steve digested all this and stayed quiet. He noted with interest that Darcy’s cheeks reddened as though with embarrassment. In his experience she didn’t embarrass easily. Her plush lower lip jutted out in a pout. “Beth’s dating a racist faux-militia-type lunatic. She’s decided she’s Sub to his Dom and overlooks his politics and crazy behavior. It’s nauseating.” Darcy frowned, sad, “I don’t see the attraction. Mom says the sex must be great, cuz she doesn’t understand the attraction, either.” Darcy twirled a piece of her hair nervously on one finger. “Mom thought she had the worst taste in men in the family, but Beth’s making her wonder.” She shook her head. “Sorry. Nothing to you. You don’t know them. Crazy family of a sorta friend.”

“I know you… some. I care more than you think.” Now Steve’s cheeks reddened. He hadn’t meant to say that aloud.

Darcy gestured as though to bump shoulders with him. “Nice.” She arranged the robe over her legs, both from cold and modesty.

Hesitant, Steve ventured, “you never mention your father.”

Darcy’s gaze turned his way. “Nope. Long gone.” Her expression hardened. “Thank goodness.”

After an awkward silence fell between them, Steve went to the stove and spooned soup into two bowls. He returned to his place by the fire. He handed Darcy her soup, noting her mild surprise at being served. They ate without speaking. When they were done, they both took their bowls and rinsed them in the sink.

Darcy walked over to the bed and started moving pillows. “Do you want a dividing line?” She didn’t try to meet his gaze.

“Not necessary. Let’s put the pillows by the windows. They’ll block some of the cold that’s coming in and making it hard for this place to warm up.” Steve pressed pillows along the bottom edge of one window. He glanced back as Darcy slid beneath the covers, still wearing the black robe. The warm light brought out red and light brown highlights in her long hair. She looked even prettier than usual in the golden glow. And he thought she was always beautiful.

Darcy shivered hard. “Sheets are freezing!”

Swallowing hard, Steve sat on the far side of the bed from her. “Want the decorative lights off?”

“N…n..not unless you do. They’re p..pretty. Make me think warmer thoughts.” Her shivers shook the bed.

Steve shifted so that he could lift the covers and lay underneath them. They were icy cold against his pants. He imagined the chill was worse against Darcy’s bare legs. He lay back and closed his eyes, feeling the motion of the bed from Darcy’s shaking. The winds began to wail again, harder than before. He opened his eyes and turned to look out at the raging blizzard. “Wanna lay back-to-back? I run warm.” As she shifted so that she faced away from him, he rolled to his side and moved back against her. He cursed himself as a masochist.

“Ohhh. Fuck, yes!” Darcy swore under her breath and whispered, “sorry. So sorry!”

“I know what you mean and you don’t have to avoid cursing around me. We’re not on a mission communicator in an official capacity. That ‘language’ thing they joke me about is nonsense. I don’t give a damn about how people want to talk in regular life.” Steve closed his eyes again, trying to keep his tone even as Darcy wriggled against his back. He heard her mutter thanks a few times. Making her feel good pleased him.

Five minutes later, Darcy rolled over and pressed her cold nose against his shoulder. She spent several minutes trying to figure out where to put her hands. She ended up crossing her arms over her chest and tucking her hands under her chin. Within minutes, she was asleep.

Listening to the sound of Darcy’s breathing as it evened out and deepened lulled Steve to sleep soon after. His face settled into a small smile.

---

Steve supposed it was a slight change in the blizzard-muted light of day that woke him next. Languorous, sensual dreams dissipated through his hazy thoughts. Dream images of Darcy, kiss-swollen lips and bared creamy skin, heated his blood.

Then, awareness hit him hard. He and Darcy clenched in a lover’s embrace. Their legs entwined and her head was on his chest. Her sweet, feminine scent filled his senses. Her amazing breasts pressed against one side of his chest. One of her hands was against his arm and the other warmed the skin of his stomach, inside his shirt. It all felt so good and right that it stole his breath. His body’s natural response to his dreams, to her, and to waking was extreme. He was afraid to move lest any friction push him past sanity. A small, low moan sounded in her throat as she shifted against him. He tensed.

Her voice was raspy with sleep. “I know it’s awkward, but I’m way too comfy to regret it. You feel good, Steve.”

“Right back atcha’, Doll,” he whispered. Wishing himself back in his dreams, he kissed her forehead and squeezed her even closer. He wanted her so much he could hardly stand it.

Darcy made another small sound in her throat as she wriggled against him. The realization that he was aroused sparked her passions, but she didn’t dare to presume too much. Maybe it was only an impressive sign of morning. She followed his example and placed a chaste kiss below his jaw. She felt his heart pounding more quickly and closed her eyes again. She flexed her fingers against his ridiculously-cut abdomen and felt him jolt. She debated if any of his reactions had anything to do with her in particular. She wished they did.

Both of them were awake, but neither admitted it. Each of them savored the embrace and the feel of the other’s body. They each fantasized about the other. They fantasized about passionate first moves, expressing affection and desire. Want. They became lost in imagining more and more. Time passed. Their emotions swirled like the blizzard winds that trapped them together.

They lay cuddled and simmering with unspoken desires until Steve’s phone rang. It broke the spell. He moved away from Darcy and answered the phone.

She watched the play of muscles under the back of his shirt and struggled to stifle her lust. Darcy closed her eyes. It was futile. Her lust for Steve had been growing for over a year. In this circumstance, lust was inevitable.

While Steve talked with Sam, assuring him that he was fine though the storm prevented him reaching the City, Darcy left the bed and went to the bathroom. She snagged her dry jeans on her way there. She took a shower and did what she could with toothpaste she found in the medicine cabinet and her finger. When she came back out, she hung the robe in the wardrobe and put on her Christmas cardigan. She looked through the wardrobe and giggled at the sheer red robe. Then, Darcy took a step back. She buttoned and straightened her sweater by her reflection in the wardrobe mirror.

Steve paused in his conversation, a gob-smacked look on his face, “what…?!”

“Oh! Yeah. I know. Gaudy, isn’t it? Well, last year Tony gifted the ‘ugliest sweater at his party’ winner $10,000. I know what he can be like, so I thought I’d stand a better chance of catching his wallet’s attention if I went a little on the sexy side. And I sewed in lights.” Darcy twirled and turned on the LED lights that adorned the sweater. Her dark green Christmas cardigan had bauble Avenger emblem buttons. A Captain America Shield button strained to hold the sweater together over Darcy's breasts. Silver and gold trim around the hem resembled tinsel. Red and gold lighted and embroidered ornaments dotted the sweater at random. It was a bit gaudy rather than ugly, but sexy most of all since the fabric hugged Darcy’s ample curves. She wore it over a tight red top and skinny black jeans. The ensemble played up her natural assets.

Steve could only nod in reply. He tried to turn his full attention back to his conversation, but didn’t do well.

By the time Steve was off the phone and had made the bed, Darcy found waffles in the freezer and syrup in the pantry. She had coffee brewing and was downing another bottle of water when Steve began stoking the fire embers and adding wood. They shared a quiet breakfast. Steve tried not to look at Darcy’s figure and failed again and again. He tried not to fantasize as Darcy licked syrup from her lips. He failed.

As they finished breakfast, Darcy looked around the cabin. “Aw, man. No TV?”

“Actually, there’s one over the bed.” Steve swallowed the last of his coffee.

“Over?” Darcy gave him a disbelieving look and went over to look up inside the bed canopy. “You’re not kidding.”

He chuckled and shook his head, “at first I thought it was a mirror.”

Darcy lay on the bed, on her back. She looked around for a remote control, finally finding one in the nearby window sill. “Icy remote.” She pointed it up and sighed, “but it works!” Channel flipping and streaming services browsing occupied her for some time.

She hoped rather than believed that Steve was looking at her with lusty interest.

Steve was. The intimacy of their situation and Darcy’s sensual appearance were a potent combination. He could hardly speak. He excused himself to go get a quick shower. He came back out a few minutes later, dressed again but still toweling his hair dry.

Darcy didn’t meet Steve’s eye as she offered, “you’re welcome to join me. Just friends watching television, ya know. I’m watching a silly Christmas movie. ’Scrooged.’ Okay?”

Steve shrugged as he made his way back to the bed. He shuffled, awkward, as he drew nearer.

Darcy shifted towards one edge of the bed, not meeting his gaze. “Plenty of room. Don’t mind me.”

He smiled as he sat on the other edge of the bed and forced himself to speak up. “Sam said that they’re busy helping first responders deal with stranded motorists. Hundreds of them all across the state. A lot of people didn’t have our luck and find shelter. I had to agree with him that it’s more important that they help them than us. I’m sorry you won’t have the chance to win the sweater contest.” He eased onto his back beside her, folding a pillow behind his head.

“Of course, they need to help people who’re stuck!” Darcy shuddered. “It’s super cold out there and the storm got out of hand so fast. I can only imagine. We’re fine here.” She grinned and turned to him. “You really think I’d win?”

Steve was struck by how pretty her green eyes were. He blushed. Her look turned quizzical. He nodded and spoke a thick reply, “yeah. Definitely.” Steve forced his gaze up to the television mounted above them. “I assume that ‘Scrooged’ refers to the Dickens novella?”

“Yup.” Darcy shifted further to the edge and lifted the covers so that she could get under the blankets. Once under there, she groused, “darned lights and ornaments are poking me.” She frowned, and unbuttoned the sweater again and lay it aside. Buttons and lights made a clicking sound on the floor by the bed.

After debating for what felt like an endless time, Steve got under the covers and shifted closer to her. “Can’t let you freeze.”

Darcy rolled up on her side and looked him in the eye. “It would be rude to let me freeze. I’m glad you’ve seen the light.” She winked at him, trying to seem playful. She thought that he was looking at her lips, but dismissed it as wishful thinking.

Steve assured her, “I’ll do my best to keep you from freezing. Wouldn’t want to be rude.” He put one arm around her, hand spanning the middle of her back. “I’m a polite guy.”

“You’re the nicest soldier I’ve ever met. Have I ever mentioned that?” Darcy ducked her head as a blush filled her cheeks. The way his hand covered her whole back made her feel tiny. Did things to her. Made her want his hands on her in other places. The fire she tried to play with was backfiring spectacularly, leaving Darcy breathless with desire.

“No. But I’m glad to hear it.” Steve gave her a squeeze.

There was a loud noise onscreen. Darcy rolled onto her back so that she could see the television again. She hoped Steve wouldn��t notice that her breath was racing.

After a few minutes, Steve nudged her. “Tell me about other soldiers you’ve met? There are good and bad apples in any group, you know.” He felt Darcy tense.

Though she didn’t look at Steve, Darcy decided to answer. She told him about Puente Antiguo and the SHIELD agents and soldiers who took Jane’s research- and their computers and even Darcy’s personal iPod. SHIELD ran a strange, temporary military base near the town and Erik worried about their absolute power. She told him about the shifts in those soldiers’ attitudes after Thor returned to Asgard. First, they were obsequious, but gradually more restrictive. They coveted Jane’s research and tried to control them all. After a long pause, Darcy shared, “some of them reminded me of my dad. He was military, Marine. Not a nice guy, especially to our mom.”

Steve rubbed Darcy’s arm as she talked. He felt that it was a privilege that Darcy was telling him something so personal. He didn’t want to break the spell, rather hoped that she might open up to him more.

Darcy blinked back tears. “He found fault with everything she did. She couldn’t do enough fast enough to avoid setting off his temper. Then he… well, you know.” Darcy ducked her head.

Realization dawned on Steve. “So, he never served her a dish or coffee even if he was getting something? He never held doors for her or pulled out a chair? You never saw him treat her with respect?”

Steve stilled as Darcy sat up on one elbow and stared at him, eyes wide. “Respect? No. No respect.” She grabbed the remote again. “Let’s look for something else. I saw…” Darcy glanced at Steve. “’White Christmas’ is about to start on this channel. I remember liking the dancing and pretty outfits and thinking it’s sweet. The story starts in your time, though. Do you mind? Will that make you too sad?”

Steve shook his head. “I’ve heard good things about it. I’ll be okay.” He wanted to say that he was more than okay with Darcy next to him, but was too tongue tied.

As the classic channel announcer talked, Darcy shifted closer to Steve again. “I want you to be okay. The 21st century’s not all bad, ya know.”

Again, Steve kissed Darcy’s forehead. “Yeah. Thanks, Doll.” He stroked her hair as they began watching the movie. “This okay?”

Darcy nodded, wondering if he was only being nice because he felt sorry for her or if there was another reason. “Yes. Very okay. Feels nice.” As his fingers trailed down her back, she shivered with pleasure. She wondered if he had any idea what his touch did to her. She savored the feelings, the want and heat, for a long time. Other thoughts ran through the back of her mind while she tried to ignore them.

Most of the way through the movie, the 'pretend-engagement' conspirators confessed to Bing Crosby’s character. Steve commented, approving, “at least they fessed up and set him straight. Too many times in romantic comedies the people avoid saying what’s on their mind until it’s too late. It's silly.” He stilled as Darcy pushed back from him and stared at him again. “What? You okay?”

Darcy nodded. “I… yeah. Sorry.” She sat up on the edge of the bed, paused the movie, and grasped her phone. After a moment, she nodded. “I’m gonna do this. I’m gonna make this call before I chicken out. Wish me luck.” She grabbed the green sweater from the floor and slipped it on over her red top again.

“Luck.” Steve got up and walked around the bed so he could sit next to Darcy. She looked up at him with a grateful warmth that transfixed him. He nudged her shoulder to offer comfort as someone answered her call.

“Beth? Hi. It’s Darcy. Merry something or other.” Darcy’s knee bounced, betraying her restlessness. Steve could feel tension fill her frame. After a moment, she continued, “yeah. Fine. I found a place to stay. I’m with a friend. And, Beth?” She took a deep breath, “He treats me with respect. Caring and respect. Even if he were…” Darcy paused. She rushed the next words out all at once, “well, if he was my Dom? He wouldn’t embarrass me or push away you or Mom by making me say ‘Meow’ and only ‘Meow’ to you at his whim. He wouldn’t think that's funny. He wouldn’t call me a ‘dimwit’ or a ‘bimbo’. He… Beth? I’m sorry to criticize your choices. But you deserve better than that kind of stuff. I hate the way Chad treats you, the way he talks down to you and tries to change you. You don’t need changing. I don’t know if it’s just me that Chad can’t stand. But, if it’s not? If he treats you like that in front of other people? I mean, would he demean you in front of your kids like Dad did Mom? Would he hurt you? How much like Dad…? Scratch that. Sorry. He’s not Dad. I’m not trying to be an unfair bitch to Chad, whatever he says. I worry that…” Darcy gasped, “don’t cry! I’m sorry! No! You… what? He what? He didn’t… What?!?” She shook, both in her body and voice. There was a long silence on Darcy’s end as her sister talked and cried. Darcy only interrupted the flow of words to utter sounds of disgust and disbelief.

Steve went to the kitchenette and got more water. He opened a bottle of wine and made thawed meat into fried burgers and baked French fries in the oven. He took Darcy water and returned to work on their lunch. The smell of good food soon filled the tiny cabin. He stayed busy, but most of his attention was on Darcy and her conversation.

Finally, Darcy rasped, “Well, that’s… What?! You’re thanking me? No. What? I thought you’d tell me to go to Hell, not take my call as a divine sign that you should say no and leave him. Oh, thank Baby Jesus!” Darcy laughed through tears. “Yes! I know I’m a bitch and I’m causing you to throw yourself on Mom’s mercy at Christmas. Enjoy her cookies for me. If it makes you feel better, I don’t have baking ingredients. Oh, fine! Hm? My friend? Awesome like you wouldn’t believe. Uh, I don’t know. It’s… pffft. I need to talk straight to him, too. Wish me luck?” Darcy wiped tears from her eyes. “Yes! I love you, too. Now, go. Text me when you’re safe at Mom’s and tell her I’m safe and I’ll call later. Merry Christmas.” Darcy hung up from the call and stared at the phone, rocking in place until she received a text. Then, she collapsed backwards onto the bed and stared up, unseeing.

Steve stayed quiet, letting Darcy calm from her talk with her sister. When the food was ready, Steve returned to her side and offered her a hand up, leading her towards the fire.

Darcy stumbled to a chair. “Thanks. You’re the best.” She drank more water.

“So, did he propose?” Steve began eating again and gave Darcy time to answer.

Darcy ate a bite of hamburger with a few fries and shook her head, “nope. TOLD her she was gonna marry him. Told her!” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Jackass! Good riddance.”

Wry, Steve shook his head. “Not very romantic. Not that I’m an expert in that department, but…”

Darcy only nodded as she devoured the rest of her food and sipped wine. “I had no idea how hungry I was.” She looked at Steve, thinking how lucky she was to be trapped with a good person who exuded calm and kindness. She especially appreciated that after the intensity of her conversation with her sister. Darcy sipped the wine as she focused on Steve. Being with him settled her, made her feel safe. And looking at him was always a delight. Steve Rogers was handsome, to be sure. He’d rolled up the sleeves on his green and blue flannel shirt. Unfair of him to subject her to sexy forearms on top of all the rest. Like every shirt she’d ever seen him wear, this one struggled to cover his muscles. She’d given up trying to think of adjectives that could convey how attractive Steve was. And nice. He didn’t call her out for staring at him like a weirdo, mooning after him. He didn’t even press her to speak up now, when she was sure he must be curious about the ‘straight talk’ she’d mentioned. He gave her the space she needed to regain her equilibrium.

Respect. Steve treated her with respect. She had a wonderful friend who treated her with respect. She ought to be forever grateful rather than daring to wish for more.

Steve finished his glass of wine and poured himself another.

Darcy held her glass out for him to top off, then sipped it again. “This is good stuff. I never spend more than $10 on a bottle. I’d bet the cork on this stuff costs that much,” she giggled, “or even the label.”

“I’ll give Tony money to cover it when we get back to the Tower.” Steve shrugged.

Darcy glanced outside. Snow and sleet fell still. “That’ll be a bit yet.”

Steve nodded, not sure what to say. He felt happy trapped with Darcy, to have a chance to talk with her and hold her close. Even if she only saw him as a friend who kept her from getting too cold. Silence fell between them again.

“Wanna finish the movie? Sorry I shut it off without asking.” Darcy needed more time to gather courage.

Steve nodded, “no problem. Yeah. I’d like to see the ending.”

They took their dishes to the sink and then returned to the bed. There, Darcy took off her Christmas sweater. She threw back the covers and snuggled next to Steve under the blankets. He put his arms around her while she used the remote to restart the movie. Finally, the lovers in the movie sorted out their misunderstanding, kissed, and made plans for their future. Fierce longing overwhelmed both Steve and Darcy. Unconsciously, he stroked her back.

There was no one and nothing to distract them or come between them. Nothing except for their own emotional shields. But it was a day for dropping those.

Cheers and strains of the song ‘White Christmas’ sounded behind the words ‘The End’. Darcy ducked her head so that she didn’t have to look Steve in the eye. “I wish…”

Steve interrupted, “I wish that you didn’t dislike soldiers so much, Darcy. I’m a soldier and I can’t change that, never could.”

Darcy pushed back from him, “what? Change? You? No! I don’t… Oh! No. I only dislike the bad ones. I don’t like jack-booted thugs who steal Jane’s research and my personal stuff. I don't like Nazi wanna-be’s or, well, mean soldiers. I like… I like you, Steve.” She swallowed hard and jutted her chin out. “I wish that your work didn’t take pretty much all your time and that you didn’t miss your good old days so much. I wish…” She blinked back unshed tears. “I really wish you wanted to be here- in this time- with me, Steve. I’m sorry. I know you only want to be friends. And I won’t say anything more to make you uncomfortable, friend.” She smiled a small, watery smile. “Friend. I’ve done that for you all this time. I can keep doing it. I want any relationship we can have, even just friends.”

Confusion filled Steve’s expression. “Is that why you say ‘friend’ to me so much? Because you think that’s all I want?”

“Uh huh.” Darcy nodded miserably.

He inched closer. “And you like me even though I’m a soldier? And you want to be more than friends with me? Darce?” He whispered, “do you… want?”

Darcy looked up at him, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry to make things so awkward when you’re stuck here with me. Yes. I want! I wish that you wanted to be more than fr…Mmph!”

Steve kissed her.

He pulled back and stared at her as he cupped her cheek with one hand. “Sorry. I should ‘a- May I kiss you? I’m crazy about you, Darcy. I’ve wanted you for months and months. Want you so much I can hardly stand it. Not just friends, please. More, Doll.” His eyes gleamed with fervor.

Darcy nodded, stunned.

Steve chuckled, kissed her forehead and kissed her cheek again, with reverence. “Darcy, Doll… can I get a ‘yes’ to me kissing you?” He shifted so that his lips were a hair’s breadth away from her lips. Charged air shook the space yet between the two of them. He waited.

“Yes!” Darcy closed the distance between them and met his kiss with her own. They both trembled into it, a feather-light exploration. They each absorbed the idea that they’d misread what the other wanted. She murmured again, “oh, yes, Steve.”

He grinned as he kissed her again, deepening the kiss. He nibbled at her plush lower lip as he’d fantasized and dreamed so many times. Reality was a million times better. Darcy shuddered against him and groaned with pleasure. Steve stilled and closed his eyes. “Oh, Doll.” Darcy teased at his lower lip and he groaned, “gonna be hard as hell to be a gentleman with you doin’ that.”

Darcy chuckled, “who says you have to be a gentleman?” She shifted her leg to brush against his hardness. “Mmm. You were saying?” She nibbled at his lip again and played with the top button of his shirt.

Steve jolted and cursed under his breath. He kissed her quiet, again deepening the kiss and learning how they fit together. Steve savored Darcy's lips and tongue and throat while also exploring what she liked best. Sensitive spots. Sweetness. Eagerness. It was pure bliss. Darcy was becoming short of breath. Steve lay back and looked up at the next movie that had started while his Christmas dreams began to come true.

Darcy glanced at the Santa onscreen and panted. “I no longer have anything to ask Santa for.” She undid Steve’s top shirt button and kissed at the base of Steve’s throat. “I can think of a few things I’d like to ask you for, though.”

Steve grinned down at her, “same, Doll.”

“Oh?” Darcy undid another button on his shirt and kissed the exposed skin. She looked up at him and held his gaze as she undid the next few buttons.

Steve pulled her up for a long, slow kiss that set Darcy’s every nerve ending afire. She undid another few buttons on his shirt. When he shrugged it off, Darcy stilled, staring at his naked chest. “Holy…”

“Night?” he suggested. She snorted a giggle. He shifted her so that she sat astride him. He asked with his eyes if he could lift her shirt.

She nodded. “I may freeze, but yes. Please do.” She lifted her arms.

He shook his head. “Not gonna freeze. Haven’t you heard? I’m the man with a plan.” His voice tightened as he pulled her shirt up over her head. He shifted another pillow behind him and sat up some, pulling her towards him. He kissed her breasts as he reached around and undid her lacy red bra. “Damn, Doll. You’re a fantasy come true.” As he began to tease at her breasts with his lips and tongue, Darcy shivered and moved on him. He groaned, “here.” He pulled his shirt out from beneath him and helped her put it on, open at the front but warming her arms and back. "Looks much better on you than Tony's robe."

“Ahhh.” Darcy tried to talk, but Steve returned to tormenting her with his insistent lips. “G...good plan. Ohhh.” She squirmed in his lap, grinding against his erection with abandon. He let out a lusty groan that made her proud.

Steve pulled her chest against him for warmth as he moved up to kiss her lips and face again. “You’re shaking.” He looked concerned, but couldn’t resist kissing Darcy again. And again. He plucked and teased at her with his dexterous fingers. He loved the frantic sounds she made in the back of her throat.

“Not cold.” Darcy pulled back, then kissed him again and again. “Just want. Want you. Want so much.”

Steve shifted, rolling Darcy down onto her back. “Good thing, Doll.” He kissed her. Long, slow, passionate kisses that she met with a fervor that lit him up more every second. He palmed her breast and continued his exquisite torment. Darcy arched up against him, writhing. He lowered his lips to her breasts again. First one, then the other. Kissing and nibbling and sucking. She cried out and bucked as he swirled his tongue, hard. Darcy wasn’t sure if she would be embarrassed to come just from his attention to her breasts or impressed. Possibly both. Likely both.

He resumed teasing her nipples with his fingers. He placed open-mouthed kisses all along her belly. Steve took his time. “Beautiful.”

Darcy whimpered and began to shove her pants down. Steve stilled her hands. “I got you.” He undid the snap on her black jeans and kissed the exposed skin. Then he lowered her zipper and kissed her more. Darcy held the covers up with one hand and ran the other covetously along Steve’s shoulder. Steve pulled her pants and panties off and then moved back up her body to kiss her cheek and lips again.

“Pants!” Darcy begged him between kisses.

Steve huffed a laugh and unbuttoned his jeans. Darcy pressed against him, skin to skin. She wore only his shirt and warm red socks. Finally, he pushed down his pants so that he wore nothing.

Darcy’s eyes went even wider. “Oh, my. You go commando?”

He shrugged. “Habit. The uniform requires special briefs.”

She reached for him eagerly and wrapped her fingers around his shaft.

“Fuck,” Steve hissed.

Darcy's grin had a wicked glint. “Something like that.” She kissed down his chest and abdomen until she finally took him in her mouth. Then, Darcy delighted in taking Steve completely apart.

When he’d caught his breath again, Steve gave Darcy a smile unlike anything she’d ever seen from him before. It was both delighted and full of mischief that caused her pulse to race. He again pulled her astride his legs so he could taste and tease at her breasts. He left lingering kisses along the column of her throat and over her wrists. He disappeared under the covers and kissed her thighs and the backs of her knees. Darcy squirmed and unseeingly stared up at the movie. Steve didn’t tire, didn’t cramp- only focused on Darcy's pleasure with single-minded, super-strong drive. He had her writhing with pleasure long before he let her come. Another Christmas movie was playing onscreen and halfway over before Steve came up for air.

Finally, when Darcy begged, Steve slowly slid home. She realized that he’d been prepping her so long because of his size. She felt stretched wide as he twisted to hit her G-spot just right. She came quickly and felt as though she continued coming again and again as Steve pounded into her. He twisted her around so that he could plunge in from behind while rolling her swollen clit between his calloused fingers. After he came, he laid his fingers flat, soothing. He cradled her body tight back against his. Aftershocks left her spasming with pleasure. Steve kissed Darcy’s head again and again, murmuring, “sweet Darcy. Crazy about you.” She dozed in his arms, warm and loved and completely satisfied.

Dinner that night was steak and vegetables from the freezer, paired with an exquisite red wine. As they lay in bed afterwards, cuddling and teasing each other, Darcy felt Steve’s arms tighten around her. He buttoned a few buttons on his shirt to cover her and murmured, “company.” Soon, Darcy heard the sound of Iron Man landing outside the front door of the cabin.

Tony threw the door open and sauntered in, “I’m here to rescue you.” He stared, looked around and saw the open wine bottle and two pairs of pants on the floor by the bed, and shook his head. “Or, not. I guess Pep can stop crying about you being lonely on Christmas again this year, Cap. And I can stop wondering why you’re not answering texts. Nice shirt, Lewis.” Tony was blinking hard, slack-jawed with surprise.

Darcy laughed, “you should see the sweater I was gonna wear to your party. It’s around here someplace.”

“Lights up, sparkles, and hugs her curves to perfection. I’m sure she would ‘a won your contest,” Steve grinned, enjoying Tony’s shocked expression.

Tony smiled, “I bet. Well, Mazel Tov! Thanks for popping Cap’s cherry, Lewis. ‘bout time.” He pretended to wipe away a tear of pride.

Darcy snorted, “no way was that his first time. Orgasm hall of fame. All my Christmas dreams have come true.”

Steve ducked his head against her hair. “Good to hear, Doll. Right back atcha’.”

Tony shook his head. “Good reviews all around then. Well, Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays kids. I’d guess you’re all set here ‘til it’s safe to drive again?”

Steve looked down at Darcy and she looked up at him. They both nodded emphatically and turned to Tony, “we’re good.” Tony laughed.

“Merry Christmas, Tony,” Steve beamed. “We’ll see you in a day or two.” He repressed a shiver as Darcy began teasing him under the covers again.

Darcy called out, “Merry Christmas! Thanks for dropping in.”

Tony shook his head and waved back at them as he went out the door of the cabin.

Steve pinned Darcy on her back and began ravishing her again, mock joking, “naughty girl!” He pushed into her again and set a slow pace as he rained kisses over her breasts.

Darcy looked up at him and batted her eyelashes. “Your naughty girl.”

Steve kissed her hard. “And my nice girl. Merry Christmas, Darcy.”

Gasping with pleasure, Darcy answered him, “Merry Christmas, Steve.”

Fin

#glynnisi #shieldshock holiday fic exchange 2020 #avarosier #mcgregorswench #shieldshockficchallenges #shieldshockfanfic #darcy lewis x steve rogers #avengers au #thor #captain america #darcy lewis is a queen and don't you forget it #christmas shieldshock #starcy #ava-rosier

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artificialqueens · 3 years

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Gimme Love, 2/9 (Miz Cracker/Blair St Clair) - Grinder

AN: Heyo, yall! Just hope yall are enjoying this fic so far. I worked really hard on it, but so proud. So many times I just wanted to quit it. But I stuck it out!

Major TW for this chapter: Child abuse mentions // mental breakdown // Anxiety // Dementia mentions

2020

I flinched, feeling a hand lightly slap my foot twice. "Wake up, Princess."

I rolled over slightly, blinking as if to clear my vision. Jujubee looked as if she had been awake for hours, looking fresh as fuck in her dressing gown. She must have had a shower hours before because, despite the dry hair, I could smell the mango and papaya soap. Fuck, it smelt so good.

Then there was me; hair wrecked, makeup long expired, body smelling of that typical hangover smell. Like a hospital, except unclean.

I whined like a child, rolled back over on my stomach and buried my face hoping it would stop my head from pounding.

"Nope. Not happened." Jujubee sat down on the bed and shook me.

"What time is it?" I asked with my face still smushed into the pillow.

"It's 2PM." She answered.

That's what got me up. I threw the covers back and went to stand. "Fuck!"

Jujubee grabbed my hand and pulled me back down. "Relax. It's our day off, remember?"

I whined even more, curling up with my head in her lap.

"Not that it makes a difference considering you're always late anyway," Jujubee added as she stroked my unbrushed hair.

"Shut up. I'm the boss. I can do what I want." I mumbled.

"Ah, Brianna Caldwell, you never change." Jujubee quipped. "Only follows the rules whenever it suits her, bosses everyone around - -"

"I do not, you whore. And can you please not speak to me so loud right now?" I pulled myself up and tousled my hair. "I need some shades or something."

I always needed shades when I was hungover, so Jujubee was already prepared. She pulled them from her pocket and handed them over. "Shade up, baby girl."

Life was already so much better with them on.

"But back to the topic at hand, though. Don't you remember the chess boys from high school?" Jujubee spoke a bit quieter now. "You literally bossed them around."

"They let me boss them around 'cause they wanted to sleep with me, Jujubee," I replied, reaching for my phone.

"And, you bossed me around too." Jujubee raised her brows.

"Mmmm, I don't remember that." I hummed, feeling pretty much over the conversation.

It took Jujubee an hour to convince me to get out of bed and clean myself up. After finally getting showered and dressed, we were out of the apartment and already heading to Starbucks.

I could have made my own coffee, but that required effort. And that I wasn't willing to give that day.

We were sitting at a booth in the back, with minimal effort in trying to go incognito. But this was a regular hang out for us. There was no need to worry about our names being shouted out. The baristas eventually learned to just bring our orders to us. It made Jujubee feel bad, but I didn't mind.

The barista, Kyle, came over and put our drinks down on the table.

"I deserve this. I really, really deserve this." I said, already taking a sip of my coffee.

"Congrats on last night. The boss said if you both need a refill, just let me know." Kyle winked. God bless Kyle. "So, When's the launch day?"

"Kyle, as charming as you are, you'll just have to wait like everybody else." I tried my best to beam a smile.

"Alright. Enjoy, ladies." And Kyle walked away.

Jujubee let her eyes follow for a moment longer. I know she was literally staring at nothing in particular, but I decided to have a bit of fun. "Go ask him out, Juju."

"Girl, you ask him out," Jujubee smirked. "I'm happy enough being a crazy cat lady. I don't need no man."

I knew it was a joke. Jujubee wasn't the type to encourage me to find someone. It was like she knew how it could bother me.

Despite liking the single life, I kind of did like the sound of being with someone. Maybe it was the fear of the past that stopped me from pursuing a relationship. I had a few girlfriends in the past. But they hadn't lasted long. I was afraid they would have somehow found out about my past self. Because, once upon a time, nobody would've even dared think of me as an attractive, promiscuous, alluring, single female.

But now that I had the glow-up of the century, dyed my hair blonde, I had quite a lot of admirers. It only really started to occur when NASA began sponsoring the project, bringing more traction.

My phone started ringing, but I paid no heed.

Jujubee, however, almost dropped her drink.

"Girl, why is Ed Sheeran calling you?" Jujubee raised a brow.

And as soon as the name met my ears, I was reminded of the night before. "Oh, God." I held my head in my hands.

"What did you do?" Jujubee was already groaning.

"I fucked up," I answered.

"You didn't have a quicky with him or something, right?" Jujubee questioned further.

I lifted my head, looking at her with squinted eyes. "What? No. Ew. Juju." I sipped my coffee before bearing the news. "OK, so...I don't know why I did it, maybe 'cause I'm a mess when I'm drunk, but I…" I lowered my tone, "kinda offered him the chance to be the first person to go into the other world."

"What?? I thought we were gonna do that!" Jujubee was freaking out.

"I know. I fucked up."

"Well, call him back."

"And, tell him what? 'Sorry, Ed. Jk'?"

Jujubee's forehead was in her hands, "I was really excited." She whined.

As I said before, this meant a lot to us. We hadn't discussed it with the team yet, but Jujubee and I had privately planned that we'd be first to enter the other world. So you could understand this was incredibly disappointing for her.

"OK. How about this? Ed will go in for 5 minutes. After that, we bring him back to Earth. And then we fly off by ourselves?" I suggested.

"I was looking forward to the pink sky. And the flying horses. And the…"

Jujubee went on a ramble as my phone began to ring again. I picked it up, letting it ring for a few seconds before declining Ed Sheeran's call.

I checked if there were any texts from him. Nada. But there was one message that caught my attention. The memory of reading it the previous night came flooding back.

Jujubee was still rambling, but I put my phone down and leaned across the table slightly. "Juju, do you remember Blair St Clair?"

Jujubee's expression changed instantaneously. "Girl, of course, I do. You were in love with her for years."

"Oh my God, can you whisper, please?" I questioned, the desperation in my voice very much apparent.

"Brianna, she's back in Ohio. We're in New York. I don't think anyone's gonna go and tell."

"You never know," I briefly looked behind me for fear that somehow the world decided to shit on my luck and make her appear in the booth behind me.

"Girl, chill out. And yes, I do remember her." Jujubee replied, "you know something that always stuck with me? Please don't ask why, but I'll never forget the day you told me you were in love with her. You came out to me that day too."

-_-_-_-

1995

"Juju, I gotta tell you something," I said, throwing my doll to the side of the fort. If I didn't tell her the truth now, I never would.

"What is it?" Jujubee sounded scared.

I crossed my legs in a pretzel shape, straightened my back and declared, "Juju, I like girls. And Blair St Clair is the girl I'm in love with."

I was expecting amazement, awe, shock. But Jujubee just seemed confused.

"What? How is that possible?" She asked.

"You promise you can keep a secret?" I offered my pinky.

Jujubee joined hers with mine. "Of course I can."

"OK." Our fingers remained twisted around each other. "Well, I saw two ladies in the mall kissing. And my Mommy told me girls can like girls. And I had an a-piffa-tree. The reason I like Blair so much is because I'm in love with her!"

"Brie-Brie, you need to slow down." Jujubee put her hand up. "If girls can like girls, then how come we never see girls kissing girls? It's always boys and girls."

"I don't know."

"Have you ever kissed a girl?"

"Nope."

"Then, how are you sure?"

"I don't know. You ever get that weird feeling inside that tells you that you're right? I can feel it. I know I'm not lying."

"Wooow." Jujubee looked away briefly. "Does that mean you like me?"

"I don't know. You're my friend, Juju." I shrugged. "I mean, maybe we should kiss just to figure it out."

Juju looked like she was contemplating this for a moment before nodding her head and sitting up. "OK!"

I didn't even hesitate. Instead, I moved closer and gave her a quick kiss on the lips.

"Ew!" We both pulled away.

We both agreed to never do that again, nor ever speak of it.

As if nothing had happened, we continued on playing with our dolls for another hour before the rain came out.

I walked Jujubee home, feeling very much like 'the big girl' being all responsible.

And in walking back to my own place, wrapping my arms around myself, I saw Blair - walking alone, drenched from head to toe.

"Blair!" I ran towards her.

She turned to look at me, her face scrunched up, trying to see through the downpour.

Call it instinct, but I knew something was up, just from how she was looking at me. I put my hands on her shoulders. "What's wrong?? Are you OK?"

"I'm lost. I-I'm trying to find my way home." She said quietly.

"What. How did you - -" I stopped myself from talking any further. Instead, I took Blair by the hand and pulled her towards the bus shelter off to the side of the road.

We both sat down when we got inside. She was shaking, close to catching a cold in the awful weather. Not to mention she had no jacket on. So I pulled my arm out of its sleeve and draped half of the coat over her.

"What happened to your coat?" I asked

"I didn't bring it." She replied.

"Why not? It's cold. You're going to get sick."

"I'm sorry. I just...ran."

I was silent for a moment. Then, "What do you mean?"

She was also silent for a moment, her blue eyes drifting to the ground. "Brianna...is it normal for Daddies to shout real loud all the time? Do they smash things a lot?"

No. It was not expected. I may not have had a Father figure in my life, but I knew well enough. "Blair, what happened?"

Blair clenched her fist around the jacket. "My Daddy...he…"

Despite her timid voice trailing off, I understood. She didn't even need to say it. "Do you have somewhere to go?"

She lifted her eyes to me, "I need to get home. I just ran as fast as I could. And somehow ended up here. I don't know my way back."

"I don't think you should go back," I admitted.

"I have to. Or he'll be even more mad."

I was wracking my brain. There was no way I could let her go back. "OK. Is there somewhere you can stay for a while? Somewhere close?"

"No." Blair shook her head. "Wait. Yeah. My Granny lives somewhere around here." She looked at me with optimism in her eyes.

"That's great! I know this place like the back of my hand. I bet I can find it in a few seconds."

After sitting for 10 more minutes, the rain was starting to settle, so Blair gave me the address, and off we went. I carried her bag for her. She was probably exhausted from all the walking.

All the while, I just listened as she talked about many things - Madonna, her Princess Belle doll, how Jade from school actually picked her nose when no one was looking. So many different topics. And I didn't speak a word. I guess I was just so...astonished. Here I was, walking along in a light rainstorm, hanging out with the prettiest girl in my class. How was this possible? Was this real life?

"You've been really quiet." Blair pointed out.

"Yeah, I just can't believe you're talking to me. What the fuck?" Yes, I said that.

Blair laughed at my potty mouth. "Yeah, why wouldn't I?"

I shrugged. "Well, I don't know. Maybe 'cause no one likes me."

Blair stopped in her tracks for a moment. "I like you."

I stopped, spun around, and looked at her with wide eyes. There was no way I heard her say those words. No fucking way.

"Come on. I know where we are now. Granny's house is around the corner." Blair began to move again.

But the butterflies in my stomach were going wild. I felt warm and wanted to just hug her. But I also didn't want to alarm her. Baby steps, Brianna.

I walked Blair to the house. Her Granny came to the door and was obviously quite confused. And Blair began to cry again.

I wanted to turn and run, feeling very out of place. But Blair grabbed me before I could leave and pulled me into a hug. She pressed her tear-stained face against my shoulder and whispered, "Thank you, Brie."

"I gotta go."

I pulled out of the hug and ran as fast I could. I don't know if I left her standing there confused or if she just knew by then it was just a me thing to be awkward.

But my mind was racing; Blair liked me. I knew not in the same way as I liked her. But, surely, that meant we could be friends.

Oh, how naive I was.

A few weeks later, it was the beginning of Summer. Mom took me to the park, and there was Blair with her friends.

I ran across the grass to the picnic blanket they were all sitting at.

"Blair!" I called excitedly. I practically threw myself down next to her, giving her a tight hug.

"Ew." Jade laughed.

"Shut up, Jade." Blair snapped.

"Are you friends with the freak now or something?" Carmen questioned, inching away from me.

"I'm not a freak!" I shouted.

"Uh, yeah, you are," Serena added. "We don't want freaks in our friend group. Go on. Get lost."

"Girls - -" Blair tried.

"You wanna join her?" Jade pointed her gaze at Blair, her face scrunched up in disgust.

I was waiting for it; The big 'fuck you' as Blair stood up, took my hand and walked away.

But she remained seated. Her eyes trailed down to the ground. I tried shaking her shoulder.

"Blair?" I spoke quietly.

She didn't say a word. It was as if she had turned to stone.

My body felt cold.

"See? She doesn't like ugly people like you. No one does." Jade smirked.

I remember the moment being more intense than it actually was. Because in a matter of seconds, the girls were screaming as I began to punch Jade in her bitchy face. I couldn't punch for shit. But if it left a bruise, I was happy.

"Brianna!" I heard my Mom's voice. Her dark arms wrapped around me, pulling me away from the now crying Jade. "We are going home right now." Mom threatened. But I didn't care.

From being dragged away from the fight scene all the way until we got home, I screamed.

Mom screamed back for a while when we were in the car. But you can't fight fire with fire. So she stopped when we pulled up.

I got in, I beat the fuck out of every object that came into my line of vision. And my shouting never stopped.

"No one wants you, ugly freak!" I smashed a vase. "Worthless piece of trash!"

Mom had been chasing me all over the house, trying to calm me down. But this wasn't like any tantrum I had ever had, and as Mom had no idea what was actually going on, she had no idea what to do.

She eventually scooped me up in her arms and held me tight as she sat on the ground. I screamed as I tried to fight off her grasp, downing out all her hushed whispers. "I got you, Baby. I got you. Mommy's here."

My screams did go on for another while, but as soon as they ended, all I could say to Mom was, "I should give up. Blair will never be my friend. I'm too ugly."

Mom stood me up, so she knew I was looking directly into her eyes. She pointed a finger in my face and spoke with a cracked but stern tone. "Don't say that. Never ever say that. You are so beautiful, and no one has the right to tell you that you're not. I want you to go look in the mirror, really, really look at yourself, Brianna. And I want you to see how pretty you are. Look at your hair, your brown eyes, your freckles. You are just as pretty as everyone else, girl. You are not ugly."

I squeezed my fists, feeling the hard lump in my throat. "Then why did my Mommy and Daddy give me away?"

Mom was stunned for a moment. She took my hand. "Baby, that had nothing to do with how you look. They…" she paused, trying to find the right words to use, "they just…" another pause, "look, I'll tell you when you're older. But I promise you are not ugly."

I couldn't hold on anymore. I let out a pained cry and immediately threw myself into her arms and buried my face in her shoulder.

-_-_-_-

2020

That was my first major emotional breakdown, marking the beginning of many more to come. But, unfortunately, Mom didn't want to immediately get me help. She had a feeling it would upset me further. And she was right.

Just as I had begun middle school, I had another huge episode. That was it. There had been too many episodes throughout those years.

You can try covering a crack in the wall with a pretty picture, but the problem would never go away, would it?

I couldn't stand therapy. Why was I the one to work on my emotions when I only felt the way I did because kids were assholes? Where were all the breathing exercises and meditation sessions to make them not be dicks?

But as much as I hated it, the older I got, I opened my eyes. What I hated the most was seeing the pain I was putting Mom through. So I really tried hard not to freak out.

I didn't want to upset Mom anymore. She really did her best. And to this day, I wouldn't change her for the world.

"We're here."

I was brought out of my thoughts as the cab pulled over. I had been so gone, just sitting in the backseat, staring at the magenta glass vase in my hands.

"Keep the change," I replied, handing the driver the money and thanking him as I got out.

He took my suitcase from the trunk and left it by my side. And with a goodbye, he drove off.

Standing at the bottom of the lawn, I looked at the house. Fuck, once upon a time, I wouldn't have been so in love with its appearance. I had no idea what my Mom was going for with the multiple colours. The outside was painted pastel yellow with a sky blue door and pink frame. Then there were the various flowerpots stuck onto the wall next to the door. All different colours; pink, green, orange or blue.

OK, I lied; as a kid, I fucking loved our house. Everyone else's was boring. But when high school rolled around, people would whisper how I was "the weird hippie chick from the rainbow crack house". So, you can understand why it quickly became an eyesore for me.

I knocked on the front door, feeling the excitement bubble within me. I had been so busy with the project, it was a few months since I last saw her in person. I glanced at the vase in my hand, the perfect Birthday gift. It was perfect because I got her a new one every year. Because I never got over the guilt from smashing her favourite vase as a child. This act was to make a point - to show that no matter how much I apologised, I was always sorry, and would always be.

I knocked again. There was only a barking behind the door. Good to know someone was in.

I still had my own key. No point in standing outside all day. I made my own way in, knowing I could just surprise her later.

"Hi, baby!" I spoke in a hushed tone as Piggie started to jump around excitedly. Fuck, I missed him so much.

I closed the door and knelt down next to the pug, bringing him into a hug and kissing him on the head. "You good boy," I said in between kisses, "Let's get you some food."

Standing back up, I made my way to the kitchen, and Piggie was only happy to follow. I still remembered where his food was kept, so I poured him a bowl. Then, while he was distracted, I took my suitcase up the stairs and into my old bedroom.

Fuck, there was always something so surreal about walking into it. I hadn't lived at home since before I went to college. From that moment on, Jujubee and I always had our own places. And now, I had my apartment in New York.

Meaning, the last time I had redecorated was years before my glow up (in personality and looks). The walls were pink, I remember them being a pretty pastel tone, but they looked duller now. Above my bed, the wall was littered with posters, writing and photos. I made eye contact with Reese Witherspoon on the Legally Blonde poster, remembering how I always wanted to be like her. Funny how I kind of did achieve that.

I realised I was just standing in the doorway, just staring. So, I sat the suitcase against my desk and went to lie down. I smirked as I found all 5'5" of my whole being still fit into it.

I took out my phone and snapped a picture of myself to Jujubee, the caption reading 'Hey, babe, my parents are out?￰ 😉😉 come over?'.

While waiting for her reply, I changed my pencil skirt and blouse, choosing to wear leggings and a tank instead. Suddenly, I felt 10 years younger.

An hour passed, and Mom was still nowhere to be seen.

"Maybe she's at work. Does she have a job?" Jujubee asked me through the phone.

"I... don't know, Juju," I murmured, my attention not really on the question but on the contents of the fridge.

There was a punnet of strawberries. I helped myself to a few.

"When was the last time you spoke to her? Seriously, Brie, I'm getting so nervous." Jujubee sounded concerned. I knew her mind was thinking of the worst. And oddly enough, I found it to be entertaining.

"A few months back, actually," I smirked. "She's been real quiet, to be honest." Piggie was at my feet, looking for one of the juicy strawberries. I shook my head at him.

"Oh God, no. Did you check every room? Talk to the neighbours?"

"Oh, fuck! Juju. My God, there's a head in the fridge!" I feigned terror.

"Brianna!"

"Relax. I'm fucking with you. I spoke to her last night." I took one more strawberry. Biting into it, the juice dripped down my fingers and onto the ground. Piggie was beyond happy now, licking it up. I let him be and made my way out of the kitchen.

"That's not funny, Brianna. Don't joke about that. I thought she was missing or...worse."

"Fair enough. Sorry, girl. Anyway, how's work today?" I walked into the living room and sat on the couch.

"Good, good. Ed Sheeran's team finally got in touch," Jujubee said with a hint of disdain.

I held my forehead in one hand, wanting to punch myself for even speaking to him the week before.

I groaned, "See, this is why I should stop drinking."

"Well, to be fair, you don't drink as much as you did back in college. But when you do, you go hard."

Jujubee continued talking, lecturing me about my life choices when I moved my foot and felt it touch something under the couch. It startled me at first, but I pulled out the item.

A slipper. Grandpa's slipper. Sitting back on the couch again, letting my eyes just stare at it. "Hey, Juju. I'm gonna go."

There was a sigh on the other end. "Fine. Not like I was talking about anything important or whatever."

"Sorry," I said quietly.

"Don't worry. I still love you, whore." She said.

"Of course you do."

I made a nasty kissing sound through the phone. She was grossed out, of course, and hung up. I chuckled for a moment and put my phone away.

Piggie came into the room and jumped up on the sofa next to me. I began to pet him, my eyes now back on the shoe.

Grandpa wore his slippers more than he wore regular shoes. Every time he found out Mom had put them in the wash, he would be furious. I would always listen to him ranting and wonder why men were gross. But I'd also laugh at how he threw his hands up in the air in frustration.

There was one time, in particular. He had gotten mad for the same reason. He huffed and came into the living room, sitting down on the couch, in the very seat I currently was sitting. He was shaking his head, just looking at the TV.

I shuffled closer to him and offered a few potato chips. His frown was immediately reversed. His smile had never seemed brighter. He took a few chips and asked with a full mouth, "Hey, kiddo. Aren't you late for school?"

It was 2PM. On a Saturday.

My smile was beginning to fade, my eyes still focused on the slipper. I could feel it - a familiar twisting feeling from somewhere within my stomach, the oxygen in my lungs seeming to fail me, a tremble taking my hands over.

And then, Piggie licking my arm.

I flinched slightly as I was brought back to the present. I smiled, petting Piggie. "Where would I be without you, baby?"

Piggie didn't answer, of course. Instead, he just licked my hand, which was enough for me to chill out.

I put Grandpa's shoe back under the couch, now inspired to search more of the house. But before I got off the couch, I checked my phone. Jujubee had Snapchatted me.

Clicking into it, I froze for a moment. She was in her bathroom, the shower running behind her. I wanted to say she was the main element to the picture, cocking her head to the side, pouting her lips and raising a brow. Despite the fact Jujubee never sent me pictures like this, it wasn't the first time I had seen her in her lingerie, though. But, I couldn't help but glance at her black lacey bra. The breath was caught in my throat for a moment.

The text read, 'You OK, babe?'

Around middle school, Jujubee developed this 6th sense, knowing when something was up with me. It was impressive.

I lifted my phone up high, took a picture and made sure to get Piggie in the frame. He wasn't looking, however.

"Piggie." He was looking now. I smiled and took the picture. I captioned it, 'Just hanging out with this one'.

I hit send. And now filled with inspiration to go on a nostalgia trip, I got up from the sofa and went off to explore. I called Piggie to follow.

I found myself upstairs, standing in the doorway of Mom's room. It felt rude to intrude. After all, a bedroom wasn't just a bedroom. It was a sanctuary, a place to be yourself, to carry out your own private rituals free from judgement, a happy place. So it felt like an intrusion to invade her space.

But I spotted the perfume bottles on her dresser. There was one bottle, in particular, a fragrance she always bought. It was her favourite - a musky scent with a hint of amber vanilla.

I couldn't resist. I made my way to the dresser, lifted the bottle and smelt the underside of the lid. Immediately, I felt my body relax. It smelled just like her. And there was no smell sweeter than the smell of your own Mother. It felt safe, loving, warm. Now, I was even more excited to see her again.

That was as far as I'd go into her room. So I put the perfume back, ushered Piggie to get down from her bed and left.

I was back in my old bedroom. I wanted this nostalgia trip to be unlike any other. So I knew exactly where I'd find it. I looked in the drawers of my desk. And in the very bottom drawer, I found it; my old diary.

"This is going to be wild, Piggie. I just know it." I smirked, sitting down on my bed, my back against the headboard. Piggie curled up beside me. We were both sitting comfortably. So I began.

'Dear Dairy'

Already, I had to pause and laugh. 7 year old me would have been a legend in a spelling bee.

'Today, I had a fight with Jujubee. She really upset me, but I upset her too. I should say sorry. That's all. Bye.'

Short and sweet, child me didn't beat around the bush. She just gave you the information you needed. That was it.

I flicked a few pages forward.

'Dear Diary,

I had another fight with Jujubee. I really don't want to upset her. But sometimes I get so angry, I don't know what to do. I lost a tooth today too. So I am going to leave a note to the tooth fairy. I want her to take all my anger from me instead of my tooth. I hope it works.'

I remembered that. I had gotten mad because we were playing house. I wanted Jujubee to be both the parents, and I'd be the two kids. She didn't want to. She wanted to play the part of a child too. I freaked out, of course. I specifically remembered telling her she'd do it if she cared about me. She said she did care. But in the heat of the moment, I didn't believe her.

"God, I was such a brat," I spoke quietly.

I skipped some pages, unsure of what I was to find. And seeing one specific name, I stopped flicking through.

'Dear Blair,

You are like the sunshine. You are…'

I stopped reading, cringing at my child self. Was this before I realised it was a crush or not? What was hilarious about this entry was how damn long it was. All other accounts were short and straight to the point. But this? It went on for 3 pages. I bet my younger self felt mega proud about writing so much. But now, I felt the need to build a fucking time machine, go back to that moment and tell little Brianna, "Guess what? Nothing happens. Blair never becomes your friend. She never feels the same way about you the way you feel about her, so stop before you make it worse for yourself!"

I decided I was taking this diary back to New York. I needed to investigate it more. And there were probably some accounts that Jujubee would cackle laughing at.

My nostalgia trip wasn't at its peak just yet. I needed something that would just send me over the edge of happiness. And I knew I'd probably find that in my memory box. But there was a problem. I had given it to my Mom, asking her to hide it away somewhere. And whenever I wanted to put something into it, I'd give it to her, and she'd hide it for me.

And I made her promise to only give it back to me when I turned 50. No matter how much I cried and begged, she could not break that promise. Young me knew one day I'd be on a one way trip down memory lane.

I was so tempted to find the box. Surely, it couldn't have been too hard to find. But Piggie growled for a moment, his ears perking up. He looked at the window and started barking. I was now aware of the sound of a car's engine. A familiar one at that.

Finally, Mom was home.

I peaked out the window to see she was grabbing her bag from the car.

Piggie and I raced down the stairs, taking the vase from the living room and waiting excitedly at the door.

Funny how with excitement there came a level of anxiety, the tiniest hint of fear bubbling in your stomach. And I felt it all as soon as I heard the jiggling of the key.

The door opened slowly as if she already knew something was unusual about the place like she was bracing herself for whatever she was going to find.

She peeked around the door. My smile was beaming.

"Happy Birthday!" I shouted.

"Jesus Christ!" Mom flinched, almost falling back and stamping on the ground. Piggie was going wild now, barking from all the excitement. "Brianna, you could have given me a heart attack!" She shut the door and clasped a hand to her chest.

I laughed at her over-the-top reaction and held out the vase. "I got you another one."

Mom looked at me, still panting from her shock. She was silent for a moment, and in that silence, I realised how much I had missed her.

Mom stepped forward, took the vase and put it to the side. As she pulled me into a tight hug, I could see her face scrunching up.

There are two people of people; those who can't stand seeing their Moms cry. And fucking liars.

Of course, I belonged to the first group. As you know, I…

Well, you already know. Here, let me put in a fun diagram of things I didn't want to deal with at that moment.

"Don't ever scare me like that again, you bitch." Mom spoke softly in my ear as she cried.

"I couldn't help myself." I forced a smile.

As much as I hated seeing her cry, I knew she needed it. Me being the only child she ever had, it broke her heart when I moved out in the first place. I'd imagine it was tough now that she was alone.

Yeah, she had Piggie. But it obviously wasn't enough. So I let her cry it out as she hugged me. I could smell the perfume, and again, I felt that safety, the security a Mother's love brings.

When she pulled away, she immediately moved to the kitchen, already brewing some tea. I let her know that I didn't mind if she had to go upstairs and change or anything. But she insisted we get into the catch-up.

"I invited some people from work to come over later. You remember the flower shop beside the old church?" Mom rambled, her shaking hands pouring the tea into two mugs.

"Of course I do," I answered, sitting at the table, with Piggie in my lap.

"Yeah, I work there now." Mom replied.

I felt bad. This shouldn't have been news. It was my part to already know that.

Mom sat at the table, placing the mugs down too. Piggie's attention was drawn to them, licking his lips with thirst.

"So I hope you're not jet-lagged, girl." The excitement was practically radiating from her face.

I was a bit exhausted, but she deserved to have a great night. "I'm good. Don't worry."

"Oh, and your aunt is coming." She added, sipping her tea.

"Aunt Monét! Yes, bitch."

It had been a very, very long time since I last saw Monét. She knew how to turn a party. And she was always so glamorous. I remember numerous times as a child asking her to teach me her ways, be my mentor, so I could grow up to look as good as she did.

"So, it's gonna be a long night. Be prepared." Mom said.

"So, it's a party?"

"Not my plan, but knowing Monét, that's how it will turn out. Anyway, I saw pictures from the event last week. You looked great up on that stage, baby. Keep doing me proud."

I gave her a gracious smile as I sipped my tea. A small drop fell onto my lap. Piggie was searching for it, but it had already soaked in. Sorry, Piggie.

"Yeah, I kinda fucked up, though," I said, playing with one of the dog's ears.

"'Fuck’ always has been your favourite word," Mom shook her head, "Go ahead. Tell me, what did you do?"

"So at the after-party, I kinda offered Ed Sheeran to be the first person to go through. Please don't ask me why. The answer is; I was drunk. I don't have a more logical explanation for you right now."

Mom was silent for a moment, her eyes narrowing. "Ed Sheeran? Why him?"

"I told you, I have no idea." I sipped my tea. "I'm just a fucking idiot when I'm drunk."

"So, what now? Is he actually going to do it?"

"Yep. His team got in contact. Everything is set in stone." I was ashamed of the whole Ed Sheeran thing, but now telling this to my Mother, it felt all the more embarrassing.

"Oh, God. This is going in history books, girl." Mom held her forehead in her hand.

"I know," I reciprocated. "Even worse, now they're asking the big questions like 'is the atmosphere safe on the other side?' We're still in the middle of working all that out."

"OK, asides from the Ed Sheeran fuck up," Mom put her hand on mine, "I am extremely proud of how far you've come since you were just a kid."

Uh oh. This wasn't what I wanted.

"And I know you're so busy with this whole thing, but sometimes, I just wish you'd call."

Fuck. "I'm sorry."

"Oh, no. I don't wanna make you feel bad, girl. Like I said, you're a busy lady." She held a hand up.

But still, I felt bad.

"Shit. I was supposed to pick up some lemonade on the way home." Mom stood up, taking her tea with her. She had barely touched it.

"I could go to the store if you want," I suggested, taking a big gulp of tea.

"I mean, if you wanna, go for it. Tina still works there. It would be nice to see her again." Mom continued. She reached in her pocket.

I kissed Piggie on the head before putting him on the ground. "It's OK. I got it." I stood up from the table.

We had a bit of back and forth about who paid. I left before she could even give me her spare change.

Before I walked out the door, Piggie looked sad to see me go. Of course, I was coming back, but he didn't know that. Therefore I felt guilty.

I put my sunglasses on as I walked out the door. It wasn't even sunny out, but I knew I'd probably get stopped by people I used to know to dive deep into conversations about how far I had come. I had things on my mind, so many thoughts circling in my head.

I knew I should have put more effort into staying in contact with Mom. But after years of putting her through hell, I felt a sense of guilt. There were a few times I'd message, and somehow the conversation would take a turn, and she'd bring up a childhood memory.

I was done with my past. I was once a troubled child who eventually grew up to have a better mindset. I didn't want to relay the breakdowns, all of the vases I had smashed.

Then I realised how much of a contradiction that all was as I realised it was all that was on my mind as I walked down the street. So I plugged in my earbuds and drowned out the thoughts with whatever Spotify had to offer.

#rpdr fanfiction #s10 #as5 #miz cracker #jujubee #blair st clair #bob the drag queen #blair x cracker #fluff #coming of age #hurt/comfort #lesbian au #grinder #concrit welcome #tw breakdown #tw child abuse mentions #tw dementia mentions

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archival-account-2 · 4 years

Text

forbidden berry (ii). | tsukishima kei [short fic]

❛ 𑁍 pairing: tsukishima kei x reader

❛ 𑁍 scenario: in medieval japan; in a hostel that's situated in a functional, popular village in old japan

❛ 𑁍 warning: the second part is semi-steamy, semi-cutie; half-sfw, half-nsfw, of course

"i don't belive you," kei said, dismissing her truthful notion. "there's at least another girl who wore the same perfume. besides, like i said, you love to bluff your way with me and your little calling over there must be another form of your annoying bluffs. and you exactly said 'might have', not 'definitely'. there's a difference."

fuka rolled her eyes. she can't believe him. she certainly can't even he's forcing her to. there's no way in absolute hell she's gonna make way for his words. besides, he's quite fun to provoke because he elicits the best of every sudden reaction.

"well, believe me when i tell you i am the one who always - always - look after her room whenever she's on duty. i can't trust the other girls because they sometimes get shifty-eyed on some valueable things she owns." fuka flipped her hair to her front. "besides, no one really else wear the lavender perfume as strong as hers, big moon. i give you my word on that."

kei narrowed his golden eyes on her.

"your word?"

"unless you want her words for it," fuka retaliated.

she snapped her fingers.

"that's it!" fuka stood up and grabbed kei's arm forcefully, making him get up on his feet as well with deep reluctance.

"hey, what now?" kei asked in irritation. if fuka gives him another reason to lose his patience, he might take his leave before the scheming harlot thinks of something sinister.

"i'll take you to her!" fuka squealed, lightly bouncing on her toes.

well... hell, she already did.

"what do you mean you'll take me to her?" kei asked, now vexed with his godsister. "do you even know where the hell she is?"

"of course, i do!" fuka replied enthusiastically. "that's why i'm taking you there right now!"

the godsiblings were gone in an absolute flash.

"where did tsukishima go?" sawamura asked, taking a swig of sake.

"i don't know," ryuunosuke said, looking around for their dashing, straight-faced blond companion. he was nowhere in sight at all, and gradually, everyone wondered where he might have been going (or taken away). "maybe someone took him away because they want to get laid."

the truth in ryuunosuke's words had never been more candid, more frank, more... stupefying.

kei was undignifyingly dragged into the nearby forest that was situated at the very edge of the village. he was familiar with the terrain since he traveled mostly on the rougher roads with his group, but something in his guts told him he hadn't seen this place at all. the terrain might be similar but the actual mapping of the forest?

he's unfamiliar with it. and his suspicion... arises like a bubbling volcano.

"majiako fuka-"

"would you relax?" fuka slapped the back of his head with her palm. "you already know i'm not part of the enemy frontier or whatever your captain calls it. i'm just... showing you around."

the pause in her words didn't ease kei at all. in fact, he was trying all his might to resist fuka, but, goddamn... fuka had legitimate strength that prevented him to get away.

"where are we even going?"

fuka didn't answer but she did gesture on the ground.

kei looked down and a little dose of fondness came to him.

he was looking on the vines of strawberries.

the more they advance, the more vines began to appear with their bright, red, vibrant fuits.

"like what you see?" fuka asked happily. "these are just one of the fruits we tend here."

kei looked around. the forest terrain? since when was this the most preferrable place to raise crops?

"oh, we raise plants here because some thieves not only steal the produce, but also the whole plant sometimes." fuka huffed. "we got tired of those ruffians and decided to raise our organic food here instead."

"whose idea was this?" kei asked, interested about the reason to move their garden/farm in such a rought terrain.

"you'll know who," fuka said with rather a tinge of mystery. she grabbed his arms again and dragged him on the path onwards. "come on... before she leaves!"

her wet hands brushed her soaked hair back as the water from the small waterfall. the dropping water was gentle and cooling as the weather had brought peace to the flow. once her hair was thoroughly washed, she moved her hands to her collarbone down to the valley of her breasts. she kneaded them together and proceeded to rub her arms, rinsing her upper body with care and attention.

after all... succeeding a hard day worth of strenuous work and labor in the hostel using her own body, she needed self-care, too. and a lot of it since her last duty nearly made her sick and wrecked.

'men...,' (y/n) thought as she poured soap-oil cream into the palm of her hand. 'disgusting low-lives with no regard for humanity other than their bloating ego and pride.'

she swam a little bit to a shallow boulder and expertly got on it to sit. it's a good thing it's near the waterfall so that she doesn't need to dunk to rinse off.

she first massaged her hair with the cream, making soft bubbles that tickled the back of her neck down to her shoulders. shaking off the bad thoughts, she focused on the better ones like the opportunity she had right now regarding a nice bath underneath a waterfall. she rarely treated herself like this, so this time shouldn't be wasted on the negative thoughts.

(y/n) smiled and elicited a soft giggle. she really loved this time, this chance... she poured another dosage of the soap-oil cream and lathered it on a thin, cottony towel. she then lathered it on her body, rubbing the bubbly towel on her creamy, delicate neck. she loved the coolness of the water and the warmth of the soap. it's so relaxing...

she rubbed down from her gossamer shoulder blades to her arms, which were the parts of her body some men fetishizes in their deep dreams.

but not more than so her generous globes of which feral men often see in the wildest of their fantasies.

(y/n) sighed, realizing she wasn't thinking of happy thoughts again.

ah, what a bother... her horrifying lifestyle is... if only there would a man who was valiant enough to stand up for her and sweep her off her feet, sweep her off away from the nightmare she lived day by day ever since she started to grow conscience. if only there would be a man who could be her rescuer from the hell she faced with the faces of immorality.

if only... there would be a savior that could give her the peace always daydreamed of...

(y/n)'s mind began to wander between the boundaries of daydream and reality again. even so, she functioned, still cleaning herself up, still bathing in the moment of relaxation.

she moved her soaked towel to her velvety legs, rubbing it and lathering loving bubbles that seemed to momentarily erase her sins away.

"pervert."

#kei tsukishima #tsukishima #kei #tsukki #tsukishima x reader #tsukki x reader #kei x reader #hq #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader

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sammyblep · 3 years

Text

Smoke on the Water

The major events in Sam’s life, as defined by fire and rain.

A Sam Winchester-centric, 1092-word-long fic. Inspired by this post by @marymotherof , who also wrote a followup to it here that I also took a bit of inspiration from.

Warnings for: The Stanford Argument, use of weapons and mentions of violence/carnage (less than what you typically get in canon), literally everything about John Winchester, brief mentions of alcoholism and other less-than-ideal coping methods. Not quite canon-compliant, probably, but I say the CW doesn’t have rights. My canon now.

(And here’s an AO3 link, for those of y’all who prefer there.)

Sam doesn’t have to remember fire to hate it.

Dean once told him that for months after their house burned down, Sammy would start screaming at the slightest smell of smoke. Called him the world’s most reliable smoke detector, said Sam must’ve had the nose of a bloodhound because half the time they didn’t know something was burning until he went off about it.

Fire took his childhood - his life - away from him. It made his earliest memories ones of a mute brother and a drunken father, it made his formative years into a constant battle with a man who couldn’t take no for an answer, it hardened his edges and roughed up his insides and taught him how to lock himself up like a bunker in an unlivable world. And it was unlivable. Untethered, lonely, terrifying and hopeless as they chased down rumor after rumor for one man’s revenge as if a single bucket of water could possibly undo the damage they'd suffered.

Fire did that to him. To Dean. To them both.

Then fire took his brother, too.

Well, no. John took his brother. Took him out to an empty field one day in between motels, left little three-year-old Sammy in the car. Shoved a loaded gun in his hands and pointed at an abandoned car and said show me what you got. John as good as gave Dean to the fire that he carried around with him, as far as Sam was concerned.

Sam remembers, fifteen years later, how Dean smelled like gunsmoke and flame when he slid back into the car.

And after that, Dean was gone more. John taught him to fight, to use any weapon he could find and to make up ones when he couldn’t. Dean went on hunts and Sammy stayed behind. The two of them burned bodies and came back smelling like corpses, shot flares at monsters they shouldn’t have known the names of and came back singed, and soon enough the smell of fire never left them no matter how long it had been since they’d hunted, how recently they had cleaned up. Sam would avoid them as much as he could, retreating from their overheated bodies full of fiery adrenaline, but there was nowhere to run in the car or the motel rooms or, heaven forbid, during the hunts themselves.

He hated it. He hated it, so much. The day Dean came back from his first solo hunt, smoky and shaken, Sam had nearly burst into tears despite being a whole eight years old. He’d clung to his brother and breathed him in deep and tried to find what had once been Dean under the ashes, tried to reconcile the flames with the brother who’d always protected him.

But the fire had taken Dean, like it had taken John and Mary and in some ways Sam. The life they could have had was gone.

Still, though, Sam could struggle. Could oppose the fire that burned in his father’s heart, could choose research over bullets, always trying to find a way out of the flaming wreck that was his life. He refused to succumb to the smoke in the air like his father and brother had.

Then came the letter.

The letter had shown up at Bobby’s, because Sam was rather lacking in a permanent mailing address. Bobby had called John, and John had yelled at Sam, and Sam had shouted back. A lot.

Even the thunder outside couldn’t drown out the way they screamed at each other. John called him a coward. Sam said he was his own man. John said he was abandoning his duty, and Sam laughed at that outright, because it’s only duty if you choose it, Dad, and we never had a choice, me and Dean. Your little child soldiers.

Dean stayed silent, unmoving.

It had gotten uglier. Sam vented eighteen years worth of frustration and anger not just on his own behalf, but on his brother’s. John continued to act holier-than-thou, like he could shame Sam into following his orders. Tough luck with that, because Sam wasn’t Dean, wasn’t one for orders and was plenty familiar with shame and how to counter it. Felt it every time he had to transfer into a new school, every time he was mocked for his ratty clothes and haircut, every time he was judged as a product of John’s choices.

John said, you’re betraying your mother, boy, and Sam had been angry enough to say it, to spit it out with a curled-lip sneer and a dismissive tone.

I never knew her, I don’t owe her anything.

For a long moment, there’d been nothing but the sound of raindrops.

He broke the silence by hefting his bag onto his shoulder. John roared like the beast Sam had always suspected he was, and Dean finally reacted, almost like he was going to step between them, but when John drew back from where he’d been reaching towards Sam so did he.

If you’re leaving, don’t you dare come back, John said.

Sam looked him in the eye and smiled and said Bye, Dean, and walked out into the storm.

The cold air was refreshing. It washed away the smoke that lingered around him, the scent of John’s drinking and Dean’s obsessive weapon-cleaning, the gunpowder and fire that they’d made into a semblance of a life. The wetness of the asphalt under his sneakers reflected streetlight towards him, a sparkling bridge to a better place. Come, come, be free, be you.

The sidewalk was covered with earthworms, out celebrating the weather. Sam grinned and stepped between them, a little dance of sorts, and tilted his face to the sky as he laughed.

The rain was a new start. A baptism, if Sam wanted to be poetic. (And - he did. This once, he wanted to indulge and be poetic, so he did. He was free.) The puddles he splashed through became the Red Sea and the little motel room he’d walked away from was Egypt. No longer was he chained to a boulder of a life he didn’t choose, liver pecked out by eagles borne on the wind made from choices he had no say in. The metaphors were many and ridiculous and Sam let himself have them all, infinite as the raindrops, and laughed out his relief and tears and stress. The anger and confusion inside him drowned under the onslaught of the thunderstorm.

He was still grinning when he finally got on a Greyhound the next day, headed to California.

#my writing #supernatural #sam winchester #john winchester #dean winchester #john winchester's horrible parenting #smoke on the water #this is a john winchester hate blog and i literally already feel like i should rewrite this #to make it clear just how much i hate him and how awful he is #(and also because jane marymotherof's second post is sparking more brainworms in my writing corner of grey matter)#also they weren't like DIRECTLY responsible for this but @ samdyke thank u for getting me on my current sam kick #anyways! yeah. lmk what y'all thought if you wanna. feedback n all that stuff #i'm off to write a second chapter that's about sam and jess have fun

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technoskittles · 4 years

Text

Pure Feeling Playlist

Okay, so I had someone on twitter express interest in the songs I have for my playlist for Pure Feeling and figured, yeah, I could share it. I don’t have a spotify (I don’t like the interface plus the music selection is way too limited for my taste) and the playlist itself is on Youtube Music. It’s also private because I don’t really want random people seeing it or other people messing with it if I unlocked it, so I’ll just type up all the songs here with links that way y’all can scroll through and listen to what you want.

I understand there’s probably an easier and faster way to do this probably, but hey, with the quarantine I clearly have some extra time on my hands so why not?

Though, couple of warnings:

1. It’s LOOOOOOONG (it’s 300+ songs in total) (don’t worry I’m gonna put this under a cut)

2. Some of the songs aren’t going to make much sense in terms of the AU. This is for two reasons: a) Some of the songs allude to events/characters that haven’t shown up in the story yet (there’s a LOT of songs regarding Mara’s father) and b) some of them are just general songs that I use to get a basis of emotion/vibe when writing particular types of scenes.

3. My music tastes are all over the place (and this doesn’t even include some of the other genres I listen to just because it doesn’t fit this AU lol)

But this playlist is my main muse and is probably one of the best insights to my process/inner thoughts so, without further ado.....my full playlist.

(I grouped the songs from the same artist together for the easiest convenience)

(And some songs might kind of be repeats if I listen to multiple versions for the purpose of this fic)

Got any favorites? Any songs that worry you about the future of this fic? Or just something you might want more clarification on? Feel free to shoot me ask about it!

South London Forever by Florence + The Machine

Patricia by Florence + The Machine

I Will Be by Florence + The Machine

Too Much Is Never Enough by Florence + The Machine

You’ve Got The Love by Florence + The Machine

Never Let Me Go by Florence + The Machine

Dog Days Are Over by Florence + The Machine

Cosmic Love by Florence + The Machine

Ship To Wreck by Florence + The Machine

St. Jude by Florence + The Machine

Over The Love by Florence + The Machine

Pure Feeling by Florence + The Machine (hey look it’s the fic title)

Heavy In Your Arms by Florence + The Machine

What Kind Of Man by Florence + The Machine

Stuck On You by Meiko

Stuck On You (Acoustic Version) by Meiko

Adventure of A Lifetime by Coldplay

Sky Full of Stars by Coldplay

Hymn For The Weekend by Coldplay

Simple and Clean by Hikaru Utada

Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence - FYI - Hikaru Utada

Be My Last by Hikaru Utada

Colors by Hikaru Utada

Distance (M-Flo Remix) by Hikaru Utada

Without You (Justice Skolnik Remix) by Oh Wonder

Rockabye by Clean Bandit ft. Sean Paul & Anne-Marie

In The Rain (an unofficial rendition from Miraculous Ladybug by David Russell)

Stone Heart (an unofficial rendition from Miraculous Ladybug by sxrlove06)

Lost In The Moment by Daniel Lee Kendall

Fragile by ARCADES

Daddy Issues by The Neighbourhood

Scary Love by The Neighbourhood

Sweater Weather by The Neighbourhood

Sweater Weather (Vaski Remix) by The Neighbourhood

Honest by The Neighbourhood

Alleyways by The Neighbourhood

Stuck With Me by The Neighbourhood

Lights by Ellie Goulding

Goodness Gracious (The Chainsmokers Remix) by Ellie Goulding

Still Falling For You by Ellie Goulding

Starry Eyed by Ellie Goulding

Don’t Need Nobody by Ellie Goulding

Candy-Coloured Sky by Catmosphere

‘Till We’re In The Sea by RKCB

affection by Jinsang

summers day v2 by Jinsang

Let Go by Frou Frou

Must Be Dreaming by Frou Frou

I Just Want You by Robert Duncan

Forget by Alicks

Dinner & Diatribes by Hozier

Nevermind by Dennis Lloyd

Let It Happen by Tame Impala

Think About You by Kygo ft. Valerie Broussard

First Time by Kygo ft. Ellie Goulding

Fragile by Kygo ft. Labrinth

Feel Your Love by Nyquill

I See You by MISSIO

Learn To Let Go by Kesha

Praying by Kesha

I Love My Life by Justice Crew

Sex by Cheat Codes x Kris Kross Amsterdam

Everlong by Foo Fighters

Party Like It’s Your Birthday by Studio Killers

The Disappearance of The Girl by Phildel

Soul On Fire by Mystery Skulls

we’ve never met but, can we have coffee or something? by in love with a ghost

What is Love? by Y//2//K & Yung Death Ray ft. Jaymes Young

A Manner to Act by Ra Ra Riot

Suckers by Ra Ra Riot

Do You Remember by Ra Ra Riot

You And I Know by Ra Ra Riot

Oh, La by Ra Ra Riot

Can You Tell by Ra Ra Riot

Consequence by The Notwist

Anyone Else by PVRIS

Dead Weight by PVRIS

Can You Hold Me by NF ft. Britt Nicole

Young Folks by Peter Bjorn and John

No Fear by Dej Loaf

I’ve Been Waiting by Lil Peep & ILoveMakonnen ft. Fall Out Boy

Give U Up by CALVIN (I’m sorry in advance for this one)

Heartbeat by Scouting For Girls

Keep It Simple by Tove Lo

Sweettalk My Heart by Tove Lo

Glad He’s Gone by Tove Lo

Not On Drugs by Tove Lo

Got Love by Tove Lo

Crave by Tove Lo

Paradise by Tove Lo

Moments by Tove Lo

Talking Body by Tove Lo

Habits (Stay High) by Tove Lo

Scars by Tove Lo

Out Of Your Mind by Tove Lo

Vibes by Tove Lo

Lies In The Dark by Tove Lo

Come Undone by Tove Lo

dont ask dont tell by Tove Lo

Cherry Blossom by ALA.NI

Feels Like Home by The Him ft. Son Mieux

Quiet by Lights

Skydiving by Lights

365 by Zedd & Katy Perry

Left to Right by Marteen

Could You Love Me? by Black Saint

Midnight City by M83

Marble Soda by Shawn Wasabi

Crystal Dolphin by Engelwood

Pusher (Shawn Wasabi Remix) by Clear ft. Mothica

She’s A Riot by The Jungle Giants

Stranger by Jay Hayden & King Vodka

Now That I’ve Found You by Carly Rae Jepsen

Marty McFly by Luke Christopher

Rocks by Imagine Dragons

All Day And Night by Jax Jones ft. Madison Beer & Martin Solveig

Run Free by Deep Chills ft. IVIE

Maps by Maroon 5

Feelings by Maroon 5

blue by Pools

High Hopes (The Lucifer Edit) by Quails

breathin’ by Ariana Grande

Into You by Ariana Grande

Shy Girl by Kedam

Something Good Can Work by Two Door Cinema Club

What You Know by Two Door Cinema Club

Sleep Alone by Two Door Cinema Club

This Is The Life by Two Door Cinema Club

Do You Want It All? by Two Door Cinema Club

Sun by Two Door Cinema Club

Eat That Up, It’s Good For You by Two Door Cinema Club

Undercover Martyn by Two Door Cinema Club

Sunflower by Post Malone & Swan Lee

Señorita by Shawn Medes & Camila Cabello

Her Morning Elegance by Oren Lavie

Everybody’s Angel by Down With Webster

All Fall Down by OneRepublic

Counting Stars by OneRepublic

HOLD ME TIGHT OR DON’T by Fall Out Boy

Jenny by Walk The Moon

Youth by Daughter

Get Lucky (Cover) by Daughter

Love by Daughter

River Flows In You by Yiruma

Girls And Boys In School by Neon Trees

Girls And Boys In School (EP Version) by Neon Trees

Helpless by Neon Trees

In The Next Room by Neon Trees

Beings by Madeon

Dried-Out Cities by Fallulah

Bloodline by Fallulah

Almost Home by Mariah Carey

Headlock by Imogen Heap

Closing In by Imogen Heap

Lifeline by Imogen Heap

Goodnight And Go by Imogen Heap

First Train Home by Imogen Heap

I Am In Love With You by Imogen Heap

The Walk by Imogen Heap

More by Kaskade & Felix Cartal ft. Jenn Blosil

Lay Down by Kaskade & Late Night Alumni

My Distance by Kaskade

Lessons In Love by Kaskade ft. Neon Trees

Kill The Lights (Audien Remix) by Alex Newell ft. DJ Cassidy, Nile Rogers, & Jess Glynne

Fall In Love/Lie by INNA

Cola Song by INNA

Caliente by INNA

Iguana by INNA

Ruleta by INNA ft. Erik

I Like You by INNA

Love by INNA

Shining Star by INNA

Bebe by INNA

Bebe (Yaniss Extended Remix) by INNA

Better Not by Louis The Child ft. Wafia

Living Island by Pogo

Still Into You by Paramore

Hard Times by Paramore

Emergency by Paramore

Ignorance by Paramore

I Caught Myself by Paramore

Letting Go by HERB x Kendall Miles

To Be Human by Sia ft. Labrinth

Big Girls Cry (ODESZA Remix) by Sia

Elastic Heart by Sia

Angel By The Wings by Sia

If You Didn’t See Me (Then You Weren’t On The Dancefloor) by Dale Earnhardt Jr. Jr.

Butterfly In The Still by Iwasaki Taku

Dare (La La La) by Shakira

Me Enamore by Shakira

Loca by Shakira ft. Dizzee Rascal

Te Aviso, Te Anuncio (Tango) by Shakira

Addicted To You by Shakira

Whenever, Wherever by Shakira

When A Woman by Shakira

Can’t Remember To Forget You by Shakira ft. Rihanna

Better Than Yesterday by HollySiz

This is What You Came For by Calvin Harris ft. Rihanna

Sweet Nothing by Calvin Harris ft. Florence Welch

Rain by Pueblo Vista ft. .Eehlou & Shiloh Dynasty

G.B.D. Pressure (Extended) by Chillster

Valentine by Aether ft. Veela

Lemme See by Usher ft. Rick Ross

Promises by Aly & AJ

Like Whoa by Aly & AJ

Silence by Aly & AJ

Find A Way by Safety Suit

Ordinary Day by Emilie Mover

Green Light by Lorde

Don’t Feel Like Crying (MK Remix) by Sigrid

Crazy in Love by EDEN ft. Leah Kelly

Broken Girl by Matthew West

Crazy in Love by Sofia Karlberg

This Is What Makes Us Girls (The Confect Remix) by Lana del Rey

1901 by Phoenix

Lisztomania by Phoenix

Please Don’t Touch by RAYE

Island In The Sun by Weezer

God Is A Dancer by Tiesto & Mabel

Tighten Up by The Black Keys

Do I Wanna Know? by Arctic Monkeys

Lazy Eye by Silversun Pickups

Don’t Play by Halsey

Bad At Love by Halsey

Young God by Halsey

Now Or Never by Halsey

Hurricane by Halsey

Drive by Halsey

Eyes Closed by Halsey

Eyes Closed (Stripped) by Halsey

Haunting by Halsey

Strangers by Halsey ft. Lauren Jauregui

100 Letters by Halsey

Ghost by Halsey

Break A Sweat by Becky G

Little Talks by Of Monsters And Men

I wanna be your girlfriend by girl in red

Run by Alison Wonderland

I Want U by Alison Wonderland

Peace by Alison Wonderland

Peace (Acoustic) by Alison Wonderland

Dead To Me by Kali Uchis

Good Enough by Evanescence

Go Slow by Gorgon City & Kaskade ft. Romeo

Feel Good Inc by filous & LissA

All I Need by Within Temptation

A Lot Like Love (Oliver Heldens Edit) by The Voyagers ft. Haris

Hideaway by Kiesza

Memories by KSHMR ft. Sirah

American Sadness by XYLO

One Step At A Time by Jordin Sparks

Your Shirt by Chelsea Cutler

Hope Of Morning by Icon For Hire

Collect Call by Metric

Flowers On The Grave (Acoustic) by The Maine

Fabulous by Ally Brooke

Falling (blackbear Remix) by Trevor Daniel

You by Petit Biscuit

Unlove You (Drop G Remix) by Armin van Burren ft. Ne-Yo

Formation (R-TRAX Trap Remix) by Beyonce

Schoolin’ Life by Beyonce

Simmer by Hayley Williams

Ruby by Foster The People

Moral Of The Story by Ashe

Colorblind (Left/Right Remix) by Karma Fields ft. Tove Lo

Don’t Stop The Music by Jamie Cullum

Goody Two Shoes by Adam Ant

Don’t Stop the Fancy Footwork (Chromeo vs. Rihanna)

She Wolf (Falling To Pieces) by David Guetta ft. Sia

Slow Burn by Audiograf

Write My Story by Olly Anna

1 Thing by Amerie

I Like That by Janelle Monae

Your Favorite Place by Joey Pecoraro

Beauty Mark by Parov Stelar ft. Anduze

Dead Hearts by Stars

Change of Seasons (EP Version) by Sweet Thing

Larger Than Life by Pink Zebra ft. Benji Jackson

Are You With Me (Pretty Pink Remix) by Lost Frequencies

Nothing But by Skin

In Common (Kenny Dope Remix) by Alicia Keys

Resonance by HOME

All Stars by Martin Solveig ft. ALMA

Lavender’s Blue Dilly Dilly [From the Cinderella (2015) OST]

Besame Mucho by Jorge Blanco

Touch You Right Now by Basic Element

Dinero by Trinidad

Icon (Reggaeton Remix) by Jaden Smith ft. Nicky Jam & Will Smith

Make Me Sweat by Kat DeLuna

Sombredosis by Kat DeLuna ft. El Cata

Real Love by Memory Tapes

Feelings by Hayley Kiyoko

This Side Of Paradise by Hayley Kiyoko

Wanna Be Missed by Hayley Kiyoko

Gravel To Tempo by Hayley Kiyoko

Pretty Girl by Hayley Kiyoko

Fiesta (Remix) by Bombe Estereo ft. Will Smith

Love by TeZATalks

Had by TeZATalks

Heal by Loreen

Analyser by AlunaGeorge

Attracting Flies by AlunaGeorge

Damaged by Plummet

My Kind by Hilary Duff

Sparks by Hilary Duff

Talk by DJ Snake ft. George Maple

First summer without you by Outgoing Hikikomori

First birthday without you by Outgoing Hikikomori

2 Heads by Coleman Hell

Mathematics by Little Boots

Hearts Collide by Little Boots

Meddle by Little Boots

Parachute by Cheryl Cole

When she went away by Max Richter

When she came back by Max Richter

Who Knew by Pink

Lash Out by Alice Merton

Back To The Start by Mr. Little Jeans

Perfecto. by Ayo. & .Disfnk ft. Daniela Andrade

service by j^p^n

I’m In Love Again by tomppabeats

Close by Nick Jonas ft. Tove Lo

Falling Apart by Michael Schulte

Dusk ‘Til Dawn by ZAYN ft. Sia

Pillowtalk by ZAYN

Minimal Beat by Lindsey Stirling

Perfect Illusion by Lady Gaga

Do I Wanna Know? (Cover) by CHVRCHES

La Familia (Guy Sigsworth Remix) by Mirah

Broken Parts by The Ready Set & Mokita

Invisible Chains by Lauren Jauregui

Lonely Gun by CYN

Cartier by Dopebwoy ft. 3robi & Chivv

Boss Bitch by Doja Cat

#1 #2 #3 #4 #5 #pure feeling #ash writes #pure feeling playlist #playlist #if some of these links are wrong or repeat forgive me #I wasn't about to go through and double check them all #if nothing else you have the titles and these are all on youtube #will probably be adding onto this as I add more songs to my playlist #so I just realized that the links aren't showing up for some reason on the published post #even though when I went to edit they're still there???#I'm very sorry about that #just copy and paste into youtube I guess?

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pffbts · 5 years

Note

hobi x y/n just sitting down and journaling together, whether it be digital journaling, pen to paper journaling, and filming a journal with me video together. ( this really is just for me to feed the y/n college life that I can only dream of)(tbh,its really hard to imagine hobi journaling, so maybe have him just looking at me journals?? looking at my old journals maybe instead of writing his own?? or maybe even being a brat and going off on how it doesn't help him and he thinks that its weird)

(cont.) + and like, continuing what i just wrote, maybe he’s reading my old journals and talking about the past me vs the present me??? ( I’m just giving u ideas I swear I’m not trying to direct u onto writing like a commission or some ish) 🙇🏻‍♀️

GENRE. fluff; angst (minimal)

CHARACTERS. jung hoseok x reader | no supporting character.

W.C. 2K

AUTHOR`S NOTE. this is, at the end became a really cosy fic. i, though planned to write something energetically―maybe it`s because i was listening to this while writing, i ended up making a peaceful fic. anyway, thanks for sending in your idea, baby! and happy reading, bub!

LIYAN`S VERSION | the one who requested.

[10:44 AM] [and, there will only remain the words we wrote.]

―beads of perspiration gather up across your forehead sticking your baby hairs against it in that annoying way as ever. but you had to finish your laundry, so you lift your laundry basket up in both of your arms and walked further away from your apartment and towards the destination.

hoseok had exactly ten minutes left before he arrives at your place from his quick visit at the dance academy but while on his way towards your place, he couldn`t pin out what came over his mind, he dropped by a stationery shop to buy some stickers because he knows you love them but you also love it the best when he buys them for you as a complimentary gift.

though his ways of telling you are very little and like flash before your eyes, you`re always quick enough to catch up on it. after all, you had your own ways of knowing him.

you witness the flush of the water inside the machine and the cup of coffee that you held in your hand remain tightly captured in your palm. you`ve always been a nervous wreck whenever you hold something in your hand. it`s strange how this might look really ridiculous to others but for you, this is the one thing you`re scared of and that`s letting go.

you feel the constant tapping of your feet and as you look at the clock on the wall and the spins of the machine simultaneously your mind goes back to that one place your person lives. you understand that you can`t wait to reach to him.

as you hear the sudden alarm of your laundry being finished, you jump from your seat, flipping the now empty cup in the bin next to you. crouching down in front of the machine, you pull out the washed clothes and settle them rather messily in the laundry basket. there`s a rush in your system and you could almost feel it reaching the tip of your fingers now. you watch the slight tremble of your fingers but chose to quickly rub it off you head.

no one knows apart from you that it`s been five months and finally you were having hoseok over at your place. when you had offered to visit him at his dance academy, he said not to worry about that and offered himself to come over at your place.

you smile at the casual remembrance and walk out of the laundry shop, your arms now filled with energy.

hoseok, who has another set of keys jiggling happily in his jean`s pockets, took them out ever so carefully and used it to open the door of your apartment but was met with a sudden empty air when he realizes that you`re currently not at home. his eyes quickly shift to the brand new neatly white painted chair and table you had bought two weeks ago. you had sent him the pictures the moment you settled them in their current place, right at the front of the biggest window of your apartment.

he walks forward, taking out the stickers he bought while on his way here. some days he would end up buying a whole month`s supply of stickers for you and that someday somehow ended up becoming today. he knows already that you`re probably going to scold him as usual but that`s not the biggest issue here. he was getting worried where you would be at this hour. it is disgustingly hot outside and he hoped you`re wearing light clothes.

while he kept himself worried, he decides to revert his attention on the occupants of the neatly coloured table. the top of the table doesn`t look much neat in his eyes but it looks kind of aesthetic which hoseok didn`t complain about. he knows you`re a little messy so he keeps himself casual and doesn`t bring up his own neat freak from inside. he settles himself in the chair and picks up the journal that was closest to his reach.

seeing from a far, anyone can tell how much that table said about the owner herself. the flowers are fresh as usual, which means the owner changes it every day. the lampstand is clean as a white cream, the pencils, the pens, the markers, the highlighters, the thin ribbons, the gum stick, the whitener and last but not the least the still stocked stickers. each and everything was sitting in their designated place. if anyone wanted to know if the owner has a person close to her or not, they can look at the photo collage stand where polaroids of her and her person`s smiling faces are prominently visible. their happy moments are captured in time and though the time has frozen in that particular picture, the feelings inside those two humans grow with abundant depth.

it dawns upon hoseok how much he has missed you. when he traces the edge of the journal with his fingers, he dies to feel a little bit of your warmth against his own too. without another thought, he opens up the journal to the page you last wrote:

[sunflower sticker] day 152 / time: 07:23 AM―first of all, today we`re going to use only sunflowers and if i run out of sunflowers we`ll use the sun because today hobi is coming back after five months!!! i missed him a lot [sad emoji] and i`m so happy that today he`s finally coming over. i don`t know why but i`ve a feeling that he`ll probably buy a bunch of stickers again. the weather seems better today. it`s been less gloomy and too much sunny. i hope it doesn`t become too hot later on. [three extra sun stickers]

[ten sun + two sunflowers stickers] time: 10:30 AM―TOO MUCH HOTNESS and i`ve too many laundries to do. ugh, [angry emoji] why didn`t i notice that i was piling up so much, maybe college was too stressful this week (?). it`s almost time and he`ll be here and i don`t want to get a nag from him because of how much messy and lazy i become when he isn`t here. anyway, it`s getting late. i should probably get down to business.

so you must be at the laundry right now―

as hoseok`s realization dawns upon him, he hears the sound of the entrance door opening. he gets up immediately and pushes back the chair in its place.

“aaahhh for a second, i thought i didn`t lock the door!” you exclaim, putting down the laundry basket in the rack beside the washroom, “also―”

without realizing what happened in front of your eyes, you feel trapped inside the warm encasement of hoseok`s arms and chest pressing right against you. you try squinting your eyes open and your eyelashes were met with the slightly moist strands of hoseok`s hair. your fingers move to softly caress them. so, he`s really been growing his hair out. you feel him giving you soft pressed kisses against your neck and as you crane your neck a little to give him that extra access, he pulls his face away only to lean in and give you a kiss on your mouth. it`s like you had the fastest shift in your moods and you weren`t complaining in any way.

“hobi―” you try speaking only to be cut off as he gives another kiss at the corner of your lips, “no talking.”

“but―” he pulls you against him much more tightly before you could finish your second attempt at talking. right that moment you realize that you`re completely wrapped in his arms, he had completely captured you in the nest and you had no other way out but to finally return the gaze he has upon you.

“i saw you were reading my journal.” you say and almost thanked the heavens for not letting him stop your mid-start.

he nods his head slowly and pushes out his lower lip humming at you, “you were all sunflowers and suns today. care to give out the reason?”

“i was planning to but then i thought i will let you figure it out.” you shake your head with disapproval.

“oh, but baby i already got it.” and when he smiled like that, you felt like your heart collapse from the insides of your ribs and ended up at the pit of your intestines. your felt your neck heating up while you tried wiggling out of his grip.

this time, hoseok did let you out of his embrace and followed you as you sat down to write down the next update of your day`s whereabouts. as your hand reached for the pen, you saw a sandpaper bag sitting there when it wasn’t there this morning. you lift your head up to catch the anticipation filled eyes of hoseok.

“i―” i always tell you not to do this, you almost said your usual sentence but because you are seeing him after a long time and because of your inner anxiety for people and things leaving you behind didn`t work out on hoseok, you decided to vocally appreciate his effort of at least remembering your likes. “i`m glad you always do this for me,” you tangle your fingers with his slim ones, his veins providing the smooth crests and troughs against your skin and before hoseok see through your mind, you take his hand and lay them across your cheek, closing your eyes for a moment taking in that familiar sense of protection and warmth from him. “i`m glad you`re here again. i missed you a lot.”

when hoseok leans in and holds your face against his stomach, he caresses the top of your head.

“i missed you a lot too. i couldn`t wait to come back home and see you doing things you love, saying things that are on your mind, eating things you crave for, and mostly, i missed reading your daily journals. i missed living in your world.”

later that afternoon, while you were lying down on your futon beside the table and reading the newly bought book after a heavy lunch date with hoseok, you watched him sitting at your place in the chair and with a heavily concentrated face he was taking one sticker out at once and pasting them on the sides of your writings, sometimes he was taking the markers to draw little lilies and sunflowers, sometimes he added little messages like reply here and there in-between your lines.

and, you, more than concentrating on the contents of the book in your hand or the interactions in-between the characters were mostly invested in observing the wonders that hoseok`s hands did and you were sure you felt tingles inside your chest when you saw him smiling that satisfied smile whenever he was happy with his input. his hair which has been growing out a lot faster these days gave him a casual and carefree look. his extremely loose white tee and his tightly fitted jeans gave him such a beautiful look, you thought how can a person look this ethereal without even giving any effort. also, the descending sunlight that covered the place where he sat. the fading sun illuminated and made his smile into a bigger picture.

you sigh and he catches that giving you smiling eyes before going back to doing what he was into. you stretch out your legs further and finally looked back at your opened book and dived in with the smell of happiness lingering in the air around you.

fin.

▶RULES. ▶ REQUESTS/QUESTIONS. ASK BOX

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poisoned-chicken-marsala · 4 years

Text

September 18, 2001

Ok so here is the first chapter of the diary fic, which does not have a name yet RIP but I’ll worry about that later. Please tell me whatyou think!

I ran out of pages in my old diary a little while ago and found this one by chance while cleaning a out a cabinet. There was a grocery list in the first page. I’ll tape it here, it has some funny stuff on it. There isn’t a date on it so I wonder when it’s from. Anyway. I was going to hang out with Tommy today but when I called him to ask if he could meet me on the beach, he told me he was sick. His voice sounded funny over the phone. I let him know this.

“You’re the worst.” He said and sniffled.

“I’ll try to find some pretty shells or glass to give to you when you feel better. You’ll like that, right?” I asked, fiddling with the end of my braid.

“Of course I will. I’m going to take a nap now, my head hurts like a bitch. Goodbye Kara.” I wished him a restful nap and hung up. I wrote my dad and my grandma a note telling them where I was going in case they got home before I did. Dad was at work and grandma was hanging out with one of her friends.

I locked the front door and began the walk to the beach. It was the fall, so of course the sky was grey. I don’t think the weather forecast called for rain, but I wore a jacket just in case. You never know, the weather could change in an instant. It wasn’t too cold out in the town but I knew the closer I got to the water it would be much different. Eventually I reached the road to the picnic area on the sand dunes. The scraggly grass waved in the slight breeze as I walked past them to the water. To my surprise, there was a family? utilizing the picnic benches. Usually people don’t come down to eat at the beach in this weather, unless you fancy sand in your food from the wind. It didn’t look like they were eating though. Just hanging out and watching the water, I guess. The longer I looked at them, the more I realized I didn’t recognize anyone in the group. I think I would know if someone in town had an extremely tall, silver flat top. I’m amazed this person was able to style their hair that high and not have it be ruined by the wind or something.

I stopped staring like a fucking weirdo and turned my attention to the sand and went to work looking for anything in the sand that might be of interest to Tommy. I hope he feels better soon… Work will be boring without him. I found some nice pieces of this bright green sea glass for him, which I think he’ll like. We both have collections of sea glass and other stuff we find that’s been washed up. He mentioned a while ago he’s been looking out for more bright colored glass.

My walk along the shore took me to the ship wreck that’s partially buried in the sand. Not much of it is left, only the curved boards at the bottom of the boat. Somehow it ended up completely straight up and down in the sand and got cemented there. Everyone calls it the ‘sand ribs’ because well, it looks like a pair of ribs. It looks really spooky at night, according to my dad. I don’t come to the beach at night very often, but when I do, I usually go towards the marina where all the boats are. It’s got a lot of places to sit, watch the sun in the morning and not get your clothes covered in sand.

There’s also a lot of driftwood around the sand ribs that are too big for people to take. My dad says he’s watched people try and do it when he comes down to the waterfront, but they never get far down the beach before they drop the wood. I’ve never seen anyone take a huge piece, only little ones for decorations or making a fire on the beach. That’s illegal but Tommy and I always find a few makeshift fire pits every time we go to the beach and I haven’t seen any recently though. I think it’s too cold out for that, especially at night by the water with the wind and all.

I stopped walking down the beach after I reached the sand ribs and looked back towards the dunes near the road. The group at the picnic area had gotten up and moved towards the water and it looked like they were taking a picture. Kind of shitty weather to do that, but I digress. One of the shorter people in the group broke away after the camera was lowered and ran towards a group of gulls in the sand, yelling something unintelligible and scattered them into the air. I stopped to watch the cloud of birds rise and fly to a different section of the beach, squawking. Someone scolded the kid? but they just laughed and turned their focus to another person in their group in a dark red beanie, who handed them some rocks. I saw the white flash of quartz briefly as it was tossed into the air and it hit the water with a splash, which I couldn’t hear over the breeze. I did hear them cheer though, and toss another. Eventually they ran out of big rocks on that part of the beach and the kid started down the part I was walking up from. They were picking up a piece of wood from the sand and straightened out, getting ready to call to their companion, when they noticed me walking up. I felt their eyes on me and stopped to stare back. I definitely didn’t know this person. Part of their features were obscured by the dim light from the sky and from some of their hair in their face. Someone called to them, the person with the beanie waved from a rock formation where it seemed everyone else had gone too and we hadn’t noticed. The kid casually tossed the driftwood aside into the water, causing a small splash and jogged over to their waiting people, turning back to look at me once.

When I got home, grandma was there, having just returned from the store. She had finished putting all the groceries away and was sitting down to watch a soap opera. I took the bag of sea glass and shells I’d gathered out of my messenger bag and put them next to the sink. I didn’t know what was happening in the movie, but I still watched some of it anyway while I washed my finds. It took way longer than it should have.

Later

We had potato soup for dinner after dad got home, with a store bought baguette on the side. Nobody felt like talking during the meal so it was pretty quiet. It started to rain while I was doing dishes and it’s still coming down as I get ready for bed. I laid on my bed for a little while and listened to a movie from the TV in the living room. Grandma’s hearing is going, so she cranks things up to be quite loud. It’s a bit hard to sleep with it going sometimes but it sounds like she’s turned it off and is going to bed, so I think I will as well. Good night

#the diary fic #oh cee thingz #kara #my writing #oh boy i i don't think ill put this in the main tag yet #for when we get there

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@superhero-forhire 's Sleep Deprived, Boredom Induced, The 100 Hiatus 2019/2020 Fic Rec Masterpost(wow that's a long title)

Ok guys, so for no other reason than it's currently 2:30am and I'm bored and apparently not sleeping, I have decided to put together a list of some of the best fics (in my opinion) this fandom has to offer! And as we are currently at the beginning of what is going to be a very long and excruciating (and our last) hiatus, I figure there's no better way to get through it than with some quality reading material.

(This list will be mostly Bellarke and Clarke Griffin Centric)

So without further ado, here is a (somewhat) complete list of my all time Favorite t100 Fanfics, as they are listed/sorted in my bookmarks

First up

Special Collection:

Reach Out (Touch Me) by ParadiseAvenger

When a hot spring was discovered near the camp, Clarke was excited to use it to soothe her aching muscles and escape from the pressure of holding so many lives in her hands. As it turned out, she wasn't the only one.

Meet Me in the Morning by monroeslittle

“I guess one of us is messed up,” he said, “and it’s part of our hallucination that the other is, too.” He paused. “Seems appropriately hellish that my mind sticks me with you.”

She pursed her lips. “Likewise.”

AU. Clarke is trapped in a stupid time loop, and guess who's trapped with her?

Love is Not a Whisper (or a weakness) by monroeslittle

"There was a strange, muffled snap, and the tentacle around her middle was retracted. The hold on her ankle was gone, and Bellamy was pulling her up through the water. She began to pump her arms, and they broke the surface; she gasped, and coughed.

He pressed a gun into her hand. “If you see a ripple, shoot,” he ordered."

AU. The dropship doesn't land on land. The next seven years are a little bit different.

Sing the Rage of Peleus' Son Achilles by viansian

"I have spent my entire life afraid of men thought to be gods," he finally says. "I'll tell you a secret, princess: these men? The ones who claim to be deities? Their blood isn't ichor. They bleed red like the rest of us, and sometimes they need to be reminded of that."

When the Strong Break by AJRedfern

In which Bellamy Blake teaches Marcus Kane something about desperation, loyalty and unrealised feelings.

(Or the one where Marcus Kane slowly comes to realise what we've all known since season 1)

*Ep. 302 from Kane's POV.*

And Now You're Home by asroark

She didn’t try to muffle the sounds of her crying this time. It wasn’t like anyone was around to hear it, anyway. At least if she was loud, Clarke could drown out the silence for a few moments. She cried for her friends, the ones she had already lost and the ones that might have made it up to space. She cried for her mom and for Kane. She cried for the bodies she found in the valley when she first arrived. And she cried for herself.

She didn’t hear the shuffling behind her this time. She was crying too loud to hear it. But she heard the quiet, “Are you hurt?” rumbling behind her in a deep voice, and it scared her so bad that she almost fell off the ledge and back into the water. But he stopped her from falling. His hand gripped around her wrist, pulling her back onto the ledge as she caught her breath.

Grounder!Bellamy AU where Clarke finds out she isn't the last person left on Earth.

Come Get A Hold Of Me by theinvisibledisaster

Clarke is overwhelmed by the intensity of being around a civilization after six years of solitude with Madi.

She is also very touch-starved.

Bellamy notices.

By Tomorrow We'll Be Lost by WiinterIsNotComing

“I would tell you everything,” he murmured against her skin, “if you asked.”

She swallowed and stared at the ceiling. “Even if it got you killed?”

He pulled away to look at her. “Oh Clarke.” He breathed out. “Being near you is enough to get me killed.”

An Evening I Will Not Forget by theoneinquisitor

It's his last night before deployment, and all Bellamy wants to do is make it memorable. Meeting Clarke? It's definitely something he won't forget.

Canon-Verse/Divergence:

His Arms, Her Crown by beadedslipper

A year has passed since the remainder of the original hundred escaped Mt. Weather and reunited with their comrades. Things are going well for them and they are about to celebrate their first anniversary on earth. But on the ground things never stay simple or safe for long. When Clarke is separated from the group during a routine mission how will she ever find her way back home? And how will Bellamy lead the people who need him now more than ever when all he can think about is getting his princess back?

keep me safe inside (your arms like towers) by glowinghorizons

"Bellamy looks at her, really looks at her, and reminds himself that she’s only just turned eighteen. She’s still a kid, and suddenly he’s aware of how much stronger than him she is. Only eighteen, yet she’s taken it upon herself to make sure these kids survive life on the ground.

“I trust you,” he tells her, and he’s only a little surprised to realize that it’s the complete truth."

season one AU. the 100 are sent to the ground and learn how to survive. bellamy and clarke fight to keep a peace treaty alive when the ark comes down, and find each other along the way.

You're Just Another Recovering Heart by prosciutto

Clarke’s still looking at him when he finally brings himself to turn away, her gaze impossibly soft, but it’s the way she says his name that breaks him, in the end. “Bell.”

He closes his eyes, the motion reflexive. “Letters,” he says finally, sounding absolutely wrecked, despite himself. “They’re letters I wrote to you, while you were gone.”

Bellamy gets into the habit of writing letters to the girl he left behind in the six years they’re apart. But as it turns out, Clarke’s alive, and she’s read them. (Or: the fallout of a love confession six years in the making.)

In My Dreams We Are Always Together by andsowemeetagain

100 delinquents got sent to Earth and battled for survival against the odds. They landed in Trikru territory but that is not where they stayed. After weeks of battle and war, the Sky People finally lost. They were sent to a land far away, where a group of Grounders unlike any they've met waited for them.

as moonlight through the pines by twilightstargazer

The tattoos are Bellamy’s idea.

Clarke has left her kit of ink and needles on their makeshift dining table, next to her paintings that she was letting dry. Harper came in earlier asking for a touch-up and she forgot to put them away.

Now, Bellamy’s eyes land on it and he tugs her towards it saying, “I want another tattoo.”

In the end she draws a minimalistic version of a sunset-- or sunrise, depending on how you look at it-- over the ocean, just a few straight lines for the sea and a semicircle for the sun. It’s very simple, with thick dark lines that stand out nicely from the skin.

“It could probably pass as a clan tattoo,” she says, studying it while she cleans it up. “Maybe we should give it to all our people.”

“I could give it to you,” he says, already reaching for the ink, and Clarke is sufficiently drunk enough that nothing about that sentence sets off any alarm bells in her head. “You’re my people. You need one too.”

She grins and reveals her forearm to him too, already taking a swig from the bottle in preparation. “Okay.”

or, 3 times the grounders thought they were married and one time they actually were

Parents in parenthesis by Ideasofmarch

In which Bellamy and Clarke skip the animosity faze and start straight at co-leaders - and parents, somehow - and things turn out a lot better for almost everyone involved.

or.

The ark's coming down and the council wants to combine camps. The price? Bellamy's head on a stake.

And that's one price Clarke just isn't willing to pay.

The Cure For Anything by enoughtotemptme

Anya said not to approach the Sky People, so he doesn’t. He just watches from a distance as the young, strange people pour out of the mouth of their ship. Many are his sister’s age, but none appear to have a fraction of the discipline Octavia does.

His sister is a warrior, and has been for years.

These people…

These people are children.

Stupid ones, Bellamy notes, as some fall to their knees and kiss the ground perilously close to a pile of deer droppings.

And then, he sees her.

Modern Setting:

regardless of warnings the future doesn't scare me at all by Chash

After an argument with her mother about her unplanned pregnancy, Clarke Griffin ends up back in the small town where her father used to live, spilling her sob story to a sympathetic bartender. And then, somehow, she ends up moving in with the bartender and her brother.

I'll Be Chasing Angels All My Life by grumpybell

“Always. Night, Princess.” He hangs up and finds his mother watching him with oddly clear eyes. He swallows, uncomfortable with the look.

“Who's your princess?” Aurora asks, a smile on her lips. His princess, Bellamy pushes the thought away. Of course it would sound like that to someone who doesn't know.

“She's no one.”

“Now, I know I raised my boy not to lie to his mother,” Aurora says, mock sternly. Bellamy shifts a little, trying to think how to even begin to explain Clarke, what they are and aren't to each other.

Something Always Survives by asroark

Bellamy had been trapped in this place for over two years. He can’t even count how many cellmates he lost over that time, how many times he had to meet a new voice from a person he would never see… And, almost every time, he found himself telling them a story to help calm them down, to reassure them that everything was going to be okay, even when he knew it would never be okay. Clarke had been no different than the others until this moment.

She was the first one to ever try to comfort him in return. So, he whispered, “Okay,” and pressed his ear to the corner.

Modern AU loosely inspired by The OA where Clarke finds herself abducted and caged with four strangers as they all struggle to make sense of their captor's experiments.

Challenge Accepted by insideimfeelindirty

He doesn't even like Clarke Griffin, he's pretty sure he hates how easy everything has come to her. So imagine his surprise when he finds himself at their office party looking through dick pics on her phone.

“You can do better, Princess. In fact, I can do better.”

As soon as she turns to him with raised eyebrows and an open mouthed grin he knows he’s said too much but she’s not going to let it drop.

“Oh really, you think you can do better, Blake?”

And he's never backed down from a challenge in his life.

did you invent the airplane? because you wright for me by FrostedGemstones22

Layovers and plane malfunctions suck. That is, unless you have a sexy stranger to keep you company all the way through your travels...

Or, Bellamy and Clarke join the Mile High Club

when it all comes together by soundtracktomysoul

The four times the delinquents tried to set them up and the one time they didn't need to

The one where Jasper is a die hard Bellarke shipper and makes a group chat.

The Delinquents:

What We Built by elle_stone

What, precisely, it means to be 'Dad,' he can’t actually say. He's something more than a make-believe, playhouse version of a father figure, something less than an actual parent. It's not a role he could explain to anyone, but then, no one ever asks. Outside of their insular group, no one even knows about the old tradition, and as long as the dropship survivors stick to themselves, the status quo remains unchallenged, uninterrogated.

It starts as a joke, this habit the hundred have of calling Clarke and Bellamy 'mom' and 'dad.' But by the time the Mount Weather survivors return to Camp Jaha, it's become much more than that. It's become a way to signal that they're still a family, even as they reunite with their people and integrate themselves into the growing settlement.

One of the Greatest Titles in the World is Parent by jollyrogerjayhawk

“One of the greatest titles in the world is parent, and one of the biggest blessings in the world is to have parents to call mom and dad.” Bellamy and Clarke have somehow quasi-adopted a plethora of children.

Senses by Ghelik

This isn't what Abby expected. She isn't sure what she had expected, but this loyalty to a teenage would-be murderer, this compliance is not it.

It is clear that the children of this camp are in dire need of saving. Good thing that the Ark is here now.

Baby, Let Me Straighten Out Your Broken Bones by chalantness

She's absolutely frightened and he can't fathom it. He can't reconcile the Clarke that's taken care of them since Day One on the ground – that clawed arrows and spears and bullets from their bodies and refused to let them die, that cut open her own wounds in pure protective instinct because she felt like they were in danger – with the Clarke standing before him. She's afraid, not of Grounders, or Mountain Men, or the judgment she'd face as soon as she stepped inside.

She's afraid of herself.

all the kids are talking slang i won't pretend to understand by caramelle

"You told Mo— Clarke?!"

Clarke arches a brow, crossing her arms over her middle. "'Maw-Clarke'?"

Four times the delinquents called Clarke/Bellamy ‘mom/dad’ + One time someone else did

8 times Kyle Wick heard about Clarke and 1 time he met her by a_simple_space_nerd

Wick wonders why Clarke Griffin is so special. He wonders how she could leave. He wonders how people could blame a girl for the way the world was. (This isn't slash, I'm just bad at summaries.)

None of Us is Innocent by amyhanmayari

It was early spring when Jasper went missing and a fortnight after that before he truly returned to Camp Jaha remotely resembling the boy with goggles who fell from the sky with a smile on his face. Whenever anyone asked him what happened during the two weeks when he was gone, he would crack a small, fragile smile and say “got lost, got found.” And that was that.

life in love can never last (everyone becomes the past) by a_simple_space_nerd

“Clarke,” Monty sighs, softly, all his frustration leaving him in a gust. “You’re dead. You in my dream, that’s my subconscious thinking about you while I sleep. That’s all.”

Clarke’s grin turns sharp. “Who says it’s your dream?”

(Grief is a funny thing, and everyone feels it.)

Do Better by juneytunes

Jasper wants to be Clarke's hero. Letting her get some rest in the drop ship is a good enough start. [ Jasper/Clarke FRIENDSHIP ]

Swim by Zaffie

Raven was a little girl who wanted to swim, and screw all those people who say she can't do it.

We Have All The Time In The World by Death_Shapeshifter

They were waiting, of course they were waiting. She was one of them. She was family. They would wait a thousand years for her.

The Griffin-Blake Family:

Lazy Mornings by these_dreams_go_on

Bellamy gets woken up by Madi and Clarke comes looking for her.

it's a chance we'll have to take by killianslonghaul

“You thought the person you loved was dead for six years and then found out she wasn’t. You can’t let that go. Not everyone gets a second chance like that.”

Bellarke reunion after Praimfaya and subsequent feelings

My Heart by QueenoftheWallflowers

Russell and the primes are gone and Bellamy and Clarke try to take a well-deserved nap. Confessions are made and forgiveness is given.

I can see clearly now by melodiousoblivian

6 years after they left Clarke behind, SpaceKru returns to find Clarke alive and thriving. Bellamy doesn't know how to cope.

No eligius, no becho.

little did you know by melodiousoblivian

"Six years later and they were on the ground. Raven saw her first, a flash of blonde hair in the trees, a startled yell, and she was running towards the dead girl. Clarke met her halfway and they collided, falling to the ground at the force of impact. Both were crying, running hands over each others faces to truly verify that they were here. Monty was next, holding Clarke so tight that she couldn't breathe. Harper simply rested her forehead against Clarke's. Murphy let out a rare laugh and embraced the girl he mourned. Echo and Emori greeted her kindly. Bellamy stood behind, frozen.

Monty saw the girl first, standing timidly at the edge of the group. She had hair the color of the night sky, and blue eyes that saw so deeply it was startling. Clarke introduced her as Madi, that she was Clarke's, and that was it."

A Solution by timelordlookingforatardis

Madi’s mouth was set in a thin line as she looked between the two men. Finally, setting on Jordan she announced, "I have a solution for our Prime problem.”

“Thank goodness,” Jordan beamed, moving over to join them as the table. Ignoring Bellamy’s wide-eyed protest, he said, “Tell me more.”

“It involves fire,” She started. Jordan nodded eagerly in front of her, “All -”

“Absolutely not!” Bellamy cut her off, “We are not attacking these people and destroying our chances for a better life!” He sucked in a sharp breath through his nose, “They are going to teach us how to survive on this planet and then we are gone. We are not going to be the bad guys here!” He hissed.

POST 6X06 Madi, Jordan and Bellamy talk about what Clarke would've wanted.

My Home is With You by wake_n_Blake (kt_anasi)

When eight-year-old Octavia Blake is brought into the infirmary for her first check-up, Clarke gets the honor... and makes a friend.

Eventually, that friendship leads to a newfound family.

Or, the one where Clarke and Bellamy fall in love while basically raising Octavia on Earth.

Rated T for some crude language. This fic is like fluff on a stick- no angst... just happiness.

I'm Not Crying, You're Crying:

i'm on my knees, you're faith in shreds by stoneage_woman

"Over the roaring in his ears, Bellamy dimly registers Jackson telling Madi to breathe. His eyes are fixed on Clarke. Clarke, who for once isn’t even trying calm Madi down, who is visibly fighting to keep from breaking down herself, her head bowed low and her breaths coming in short, shallow gasps.

And Bellamy finally understands with an awful, damning clarity exactly how badly he’s fucked up."

Post Season 5 AU. As the last survivors of humanity try to make a fresh beginning on a new, deserted planet, Bellamy tries to find his way back to a lonely, distant Clarke. A life-threatening crisis opens his eyes to a few hard truths. A Bellarke reconciliation fic.

Set The Dark On Fire by theinvisibledisaster

Clarke isn't coping well with peacetime on the Eligius ship, and while Bellamy has woken some of the others (mainly spacekru) and tries to organise a trip to the ground, making decisions and considering all the variables, Clarke makes a choice of her own:

She'll take herself out of the equation.

OR: the post season 5 idea I had to write because all of the unresolved emotional turmoil this season is actually killing me and someone needs to notice that Clarke is in pain, for the love of god.

Monin hou by Ghelik

After Bellamy and Clarke negotiate with the grounders, they decide to share the bunker equally. 100 spots per clan. That marks the start of 5 years of forced peace in which mortal enemies have to learn how to live with each other.

Shit goes as expected.

Blanket of leaves by Ghelik

Madi tells the story of her life: from the moment mom found her to the descent of the Seven Heroes from the sky castle

Not Yet by Ghelik

Clarke finds Madi's body in their home.

Something in the Water by Youremyalways

“You know I love you, right?”

——

Clarke is supposed to die for killing Josephine, but things go wrong at the last second. Nobody is more equipped to help Clarke deal with losing a mother than Bellamy Blake.

This is How I Leave You by Africana123

Clarke decides to take her life after the events of season 6. Right as she's getting ready to do so, Jordan finds her. But it's not what you think.

Clarke Griffin Deserves Better:

Mighty Fine Shindig by theinvisibledisaster

An idea I had while rewatching Firefly, kinda based on the episode Shindig, but you definitely don't have to have watched it to read this, because I really took this in its own direction.

When they touch down on the new planet, the leaders throw a ball in their honour, which involves Clarke in a dress getting all the attention she deserves, Bellamy being very jealous and doing a terrible job of concealing it, and possibly getting into a fight over Clarke, so... everyone's fantasy?

Just mine?

Cool.

The Bruise Won't Heal (the stain stays put) by theinvisibledisaster

“What the hell is your problem, Clarke?” And this time, the tone was so disgusted, so bitter, than something snapped, deep in Clarke’s chest.

Fuck it.

“What’s my problem?” She asked, incredulous. “What’s my problem? You’ve got to be kidding me, Raven. I died. I died, paralysed and alone, and then I died again, and both times, the only person who cared was Bellamy. Kane died, my mother died, my daughter almost did- and you have the audacity to ask me what my problem is?!”

After they save everyone - again - they actually have a moment to rest.

And Clarke has had ENOUGH.

Hear me now (like you never heard me then) by evening_skies

A rewrite of Raven and Clarke’s scene in 6x04. Wherein Clarke does not regret the choices she made, and Raven wonders if the Clarke Griffin she remembers really did die in Praimfaya.

“Raven, I am not a leader,” Clarke said, and Raven’s words lodged in her throat. “I barely remember how to be a friend. I am a mother before all else, and you—you are the people that put monsters in my child’s head and threw her into the middle of a war.”

I accept that you may never forgive me. That’s okay. I don’t forgive you either.

Other Pairings:

In Darkness More than Light by lilybeth84

In the aftermath of the destruction of Mount Weather, with Clarke gone AWOL, his parents dead, and Jasper not speaking to him, Monty finds comfort in the dark forests beyond the walls of Camp Jaha.

One night, while in the grip of despair, he can't help wonder if life is worth living anymore. But his thoughts of death are interrupted when Clarke emerges from the woods, and he is forced to make decisions that will either save her-a woman he cares more deeply for than he ever realized-or lose her, and with her, a reason to survive.

Paradise Found by DAgron01

Octavia can't get enclosed again. Never again. She won't let them put her in cryo-freeze, but at least she's not alone...

Fix it fic--spoilers through season 5 finale! Canon-divergence

Love is Strength by DAgron01

Octavia Blake knew she was at least a little broken. She didn't plan on Clarke Griffin fixing her so thoroughly.

Canon compliant (and spoilers) through "Exit Wounds." Takes place immediately following when Madi officially becomes part of Wonkru.

Saving Clarke by btvscharmedgirl

Nearly a year after the hundred landed on the ground, Octavia watches Clarke struggle with all that happened and tries everything she can to help her in anyway she can.

As Galatea to Pygmalion by apolloadama

Clarke leaves Camp Jaha and rebuilds herself. Octavia and Lincoln help.

The Ties That Bind by Ofseaandsky

With more time to plan before the Death Wave hits, Clarke and Roan need to find a way to get the Coalition to work together and save more people to from the second Praimfaya. What will it take to get the 13 clans to work together and find a way to survive together as life on planet Earth rapidly approaches it's end?

and i'll love the world, like i should, for all the time that i never could by a_simple_space_nerd

And it’s now, of all times, that she lets herself finally, finally think: they’re up in space and I’m down on earth and even if I can survive this they’ll be up there for five years at minimum. I’m alone here.

It’s not as awful as she’d expected the revelation to be. Maybe it’s because she’s in the middle of the apocalypse but suddenly she doesn’t feel the need to curl into a ball and cry for days. Maybe it’s also the fact that she isn’t dead.

She’s still struggling not to get blown away, even sheltered as she is the ruins of some bank or something like it, the building creaking and groaning as the roaring typhoon thrashes its foundations. There’s dirt and grit flying everywhere, the dust so thick Clarke has to squint. The storm is taller than the highest skyscraper in the ruins, reaching down to the ground and back up to the sky for more fuel, thunder and lightning and everything in between all at once.

In this moment there is just Clarke and the storm and the end of the world and her uncertain future.

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