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imagineclaireandjamie · 5 years

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HRH?💏😍💔😥

Her Royal Highness (H.R.H.)Part XXIII: Rarer

Claire’s teenaged fingers had been nicotine yellow when the King – her uncle – told her that she needed to manage her reputation. A shamed and orphaned royal for whom money could no longer buy silence, Claire had been brought to London quietly after her boarding school declared no more. To prevent a scandal, a cover story had been constructed. She would never forget the disappointment in his voice when he explained, “Your future rides on it.” She had been different then – lashing out against loneliness and authority in the senseless, minor ways that seem significant only to a teenager.

And while her indiscretions had been charming when there was still time for an heir – a real heir, her Uncle Lamb’s progeny – they were not when she was lined up to succeed him to the throne. At that time, her youthful dalliances had made her The Accidental Queen and The Party Queen. Newsink had made it so, and a nation had laughed, picked her apart.

Now she was something different. Her new monicker, designated by a headline, had been brought to her attention just as Mrs. Fitz’s calming influence had taken hold, and she was quiet. As she finished straightening her jacket and pinning to its lapel the brooch her Uncle Lamb had given to her for her seventeenth birthday (“a hummingbird, a free spirit for my free spirit,” he explained), one of her staff entered her bedroom suite with the paper.

The Harlot Queen. Newsink again had made it so.

“Ye dinna need to read that… that… rag,” Mrs. Fitz said, giving the newspaper’s bearer the kind of look that quite possibly could kill in an alternate dimension. Despite Mrs. Fitz’s firm protestations, Claire took the paper. She looked utterly happy in the photograph that they had chosen, and she recognized it from Frank’s private cache of holiday snapshots. He was holding her hand tight, half of his body out of the frame. Her hair was loose and she was wearing sunglasses, ones that did not really fit her and were constantly slipping down her nose. She remembered arguing with him endlessly on that holiday – nothing was ever quite right, really. Her eyes scanned over the article, picking up bland bits here and there about her ring, a biographical sketch and dashing, quite young portrait of the uniformed suspect – Colonel James Fraser, discredited war hero from a small town, about whom little was known save that he was never quite right after the war according to acquaintances.

“Came back from the war completely mad, but you canna blame the lad. Word is that they tore him up in that war camp – tore him up good, disfigured him. It doesna surprise me that the poor chap turned on the hand that fed him.”

Claire’s stomach soured as her heart sank.

This was what she had wanted to prevent.

“Leave then,” Fraser had said to her, his eyes flashing when she told him that she was going to take them public before someone else did.

Disfigured him. Completely mad.

She wished that she had a way to contact him. To have the time to reach out, to explain that she was doing this to make it better, to redirect the spotlight. He didn’t understand what it meant to be in the spotlight like this, to have millions of pairs of eyes scrutinizing, judging. Absently, she prayed that the first edition of this particular printing had not made it around the jail before he was whisked away. Perhaps he hadn’t even had an opportunity to see it.

She kept skimming. Then, there in the center of it all, was a quote from Frank. It was a monologue transcribed as truth by a man with ambitions that were decidedly political, not as the ranting of a disgraced, disgruntled lover:

“It makes me worry about her health, really. She was erratic in the final days of our engagement before she gave that dreadful, meandering speech. She frequently slipped away to the stables, and I attributed it to the fact that she could not bear the weight of the crown that rested so easily atop the King’s head. However, now I fear that she was being manipulated by someone – or rather some scoundrel – on her staff. Groomed for him to accomplish some ends. Would I forgive her for what she has done for me? Of course. Do I have concerns about her judgment? I cannot answer that for a nation. However, I can pose an alternative question. Who among us would not have such concerns? This nation, this continent, has seen more than its fair share of what misplaced trust can bring.”

Claire did not taste bile or see red. Instead, she carefully folded the paper, set it on the side table, and stood. “Are we ready?” she called to Mrs. Fitz. When the woman nodded, Claire responded in kind with a tight little tilt of her head towards the newspaper. “Throw that in the fireplace. Find every copy. I do not want to see a single trace of the bloody thing when we are finished with this.”

Again, Mrs. Fitz nodded. By the time the instruction was firmly given, Claire was already gone. One room over, she had taken a seat on the couch where she had delivered the first of her Christmas addresses to the empire for which she was Queen. She inspected her fingertips. They were pink, scrubbed, filed, and polished a her-nail-color-but-better neutral.

Claire swallowed, fixed her eyes on the cameraman, and nodded.

7:58 a.m.

She felt as though her entire life was about to change, though she knew that it already had.

She turned her hands over, studied them. She had expected her palms to sweat, to go clammy, for her fingers to tremble. But she was dry, still. She laid them to rest on her thighs, crossed her legs at the ankle, watched the cameraman do some last-minute fussing with the lens on his equipment. When the lights clicked on, she didn’t even blink, just lifted her head.

7:59 a.m.

She brushed a curl back, not out of nerves, but for the mere fact that it had been tickling her cheek. It had been a firm refusal when she declined some sort of helmeted, serious chignon. If she was going to expose herself on television, she figured she might as well really go for it.

8:00 a.m.

“Yer majesty, on three,” the cameraman said, his voice smooth. The countdown was hardly over when she started.

“On this day, I am taking the opportunity to speak to all the peoples of the British Commonwealth and Empire, wherever they live. I speak to you today from my home in Edinburgh before I depart for the Highlands, which I have come to hold so dear. My priorities as Queen are to secure for my people the inalienable rights of health, happiness, security, and freedom. They have always been so, and they will always remain as such. It is from this important business that some seek to distract this great nation.”

She paused, catching her breath for a beat.

Fraser.

That headline.

The article.

She prayed that he had made it, that he was far from all of this.

“I assure you that despite the cluckings of small men, I am well and truly in possession of all of my faculties. You see, some weeks ago, I made a decision. It was a the type of decision that was unheard of, not just for a queen, but for a woman. I decided that I would not put my happiness or myself last. In that vein, I ended my engagement to Frank Randall.”

She paused a second time, fought the urge to wet her lips, and leaned forward.

“I did so in the service of finding something rare. Based on the examples set for me by the King, my parents, and their parents, I knew that love was dear, but I had not experienced it. Never with Mr. Randall or any other man. But I have found that now. With a man – a solid one, someone captivatingly different, one who I was bound to through no particular effort or ingratiation on his part. When I met him, I felt a connection more profound, more fundamental than any I had ever felt.”

She was beyond the point of no return, and she knew it. Fraser had taught her to save herself, not to need saving. Now, she would save him.

“His name is Colonel James Fraser. He served this nation at a great personal sacrifice, he has served his Queen. He has no agenda other than to love me, and at a great personal cost. It has been at the cost of his privacy, his honor, and his dignity. And by loving me as he does, he has now been accused of doing something ugly, of being something ugly. Of being a thief who stole brazenly from the Crown. He stands accused of taking a ring that is dear to me and that is made of stones that were dear to my uncle and that have been in my family for as long as any historian can trace. He did not do it.”

Having long forgotten the script, she swallowed, spoke from the heart.

“While I was with him, I left the ring in a certain place where it was discovered not on Colonel Fraser, but someone related to him. Now, a horrible misunderstanding has caused an innocent man – Colonel Fraser – to be ripped away from his job and family, and to be put into an Edinburgh jail. While some seek to use the Crown for fame or glory, Colonel Fraser was prepared to forsake both, to sacrifice himself for me. Because he loves me. And because I love him – because what we have is rarer than the gold or gems he was wrongly accused of taking – I sit here now, speaking to you from the heart. As Queen and as a woman.”

She could feel the twist in her stomach, the throb in that heart that produced the words her mouth spoke into the public space where their relationship now lived.

“Colonel James Fraser is a good man, better than the small, insignificant man who has attempted to smear him and to smear me. Do not harbor small-minded conclusions about Colonel James Fraser or the man he is.”

Enough. It was enough.

What was rare was sacred, private. She was a Queen, but she was also Claire. She would never not be both.

And so she concluded, “Although I have found the great love of my life, I declare before you all that my whole life, whether it be long or short, shall be devoted to your service, and to the service of our nation. God help me to make good my vow, and God bless all of you who are willing to continue to share in it.”*

When the lights switched off, she rose. Her palms were still dry as she turned to Mrs. Fitz.

“Get him a message. I am going to our place. He will know.”

* the first sentence of the speech and this *’ed part were adapted from Queen Elizabeth’s 21st birthday speech, which you can read here, if you’re so inclined

#crookedfestivalalmondknight #;mod kate #HRH #Her Royal Highness AU #royal au #jamie x claire #Part XXIII

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theborahaecat · 5 years

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Penny for your thoughts? - Chapter IV

Title: Penny for your thoughts? [Telepathy AU] Relationship: Kim Taehyung/Jeon Jungkook Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content in later chapters. Word count: 4150 Summary: “~ Ahhhhhh, pretty boy is staring at us, definitely us. - Oh my god, will you stop screaming? ~ Oh look, he looks so adorable with those wide eyes, oh God, why is he so near. - It’s okay breathe. Breathe, and try not to do anything stupid. Oh no no, don’t stare. ~ Woah, so pretty. - No, I said do NOT stare. ~ Did you? Sorry, I must have heard you wrong.

A clear-cut internal thought-conversation? This was rare, Jungkook noted as he turned away, trying so hard not to smile.”

OR,

Jungkook can feel everyone’s thoughts and emotions, and Taehyung is that one person who thinks too loud.

Read CHAPTER I here.

Read CHAPTER II here.

Read CHAPTER III here.

… … … … … … … … … … . .

Jungkook stuffed his hands deeper into his pockets, gazing at how the yellow halo of a streetlamp blurred into the fading night. Perhaps he should have brought a jacket.

He stifled a yawn, checking the time. Taehyung wanted to take pictures of the sunrise, so they had decided to meet really early. Jungkook sighed, exasperated by his own nervousness. Here he was, with over a quarter of an hour left until the allotted ‘really early’.

He leaned back against a tree, wondering why Taehyung had chosen to meet at the bus stop nearest to his apartment. He couldn’t have known where Jungkook lived, could he? Maybe he lived somewhere nearby too. Jungkook wondered why the thought of that cheered him up a little.

He studied the cemented sidewalk before him, letting faint, muted dream-thoughts from all around the sleeping street flow through his mind. He liked this peaceful period between two and six in the morning when he could let his guard down.

He let his mind wander to Taehyung’s shy smile, his cute, panicky thought-conversations, his bright eyes and darkened gaze that burned through Jungkook’s soul, completely oblivious to how tenderly he was now gazing at the edge of the sidewalk, alone in semi-darkness.

~ We’re late, aren’t we? - We’re five minutes early. ~ Oh no, we’re early? - Ye- Wait, what? It’s okay to be early, right? ~ Oh. Yeah, okay-er I guess.

Jungkook fought the urge to smile. Taehyung was somewhere around the corner, excited, nervous, nervous, panicking, overjoyed, nervous.

~ What if he doesn’t turn up? - He would text us or something, right? ~ But what if he stands us up? - He wouldn’t. ~ How are we so sure? - …We’re not… ~ Well then, what if? - Then we go alone. ~ But we don’t wanna go alone… - That was the plan in the first place, remember? ~ But then we promised us we’d go with Angel. - Maybe he’ll come. If we can wait just one minute till we go around this corner- ~ We wanna meet Angel. - Jungkook. ~ That’s what I said. - We met him literally yesterday. ~ But we miss him! - Ugh. Dramatic.

Jungkook found himself smiling fondly. Taehyung had just mentally called himself dramatic and Jungkook wanted to squish his cheeks.

~ And we want to hold his pretty hand because it’s chilly out here. - Oh god, not this again. ~ Imagine him pulling us into his gorgeous arms… - Or, like, don’t. ~ …holding us so close… - No, stop right there, please. ~ …that we can hear his heart racing… - God, don’t tell me we fancy him liking us. ~ I wonder what he smells like… - What even. Okay, that’s it. We’re reaching in ten seconds. Stop. Blushing. Right. Now. ~ Well, at least that warmed us up…

Jungkook pressed his cold hands against his cheeks, trying to get them to cool down. Was he ever going to get used to Taehyung’s vivid fantasies? What did he smell like, come to think of it?

When Taehyung finally half-ran, half-stumbled round the corner, cheeks flushed, lips nervously bitten-red, breathless, drowning in a printed white button-down Jungkook was not ready.

“Hi,” Jungkook breathed, leaning off the tree, telling himself to get a grip as he picked up his bag and walked towards where Taehyung had stumbled to a halt, frozen, lips parted, his gazing raking down from Jungkook’s body.

~ OhmygodOhmygodOhmygodOhm- - Wait, he said something, didn’t he? ~ His waist is so fucking tiny, can we touch? - What the heck, no way, get a grip, Taehyung. + Imagine- - No, you goddamned potato, don’t you dare turn up and ‘Imagine’ us now. He said something, and we’re being RUDE! ~ Oh no, he’s going to hate us now, isn’t he? - Ye- No, just- Say something!

“T-thank you.”

- W H A T . ~ We said something. - Yes, but that’s not- forget it.

“Thanks for coming along,” Taehyung mumbled, blushing hard, gaze now fixed on Jungkook’s shoes.

Just being around a flustered Taehyung did things to Jungkook and his confidence. He walked slowly up to Taehyung, gently brushing a finger under his chin, urging him to look up and into Jungkook’s eyes.

“Thanks for letting me tag along,” Jungkook smiled, “I’ll try not to be too much of a bother.” God, why did his voice have to turn all weird and breathy around Taehyung? Also, how the heck was he supposed to survive those puppy eyes?

~ As if Angel could ever be a bother. (Too close, too close, too close, too cl-) - He could make a wonderful distraction, let’s be honest, but not a bother. (Don’t you dare step back. We’re not rude. We’re not scared.) ~ But it would be totally worth it. (Why is he so damn pretty? Unfair.) - True. (Stop whining.)

“So, where are we going?” Jungkook figured he might as well try the whole ‘normal conversation’ thing.

Taehyung brightened.

- We know this part. We can talk about this. ~ His eyes are so pretty…

“We take a bus-” Taehyung’s words were cut off when a bus rumbled round the corner and came to a halt before them.

- Timing… ~ Woohoo! First not-a-date with Angelkook! - … Angelkook?

Jungkook climbed onto the bus, trying so hard not to smile and blush and look like an idiot in general. Taehyung was seriously too adorable. Angelkook, huh… Jungkook decided he might just let himself find Taehyung a nickname too, if only for non-verbal purposes.

The bus was nearly empty, Jungkook noted, grateful, as he took a seat beside Taehyung.

“So. Where is this bus taking us?”

~ He’s so cuuute - Shut up and respond.

“We ride this bus for about twenty minutes,” Taehyung had that bright, child-like smile again, “reaching somewhere around the outskirts. Then we walk a little to one of my favourite places in the city. It’s a pretty place.”

~ “Not as pretty as you, though.” - Tell me we didn’t say that aloud. ~ We didn’t say that aloud. - Good. ~ What if he doesn’t like it? - Well, people usually don’t hate trees…

Jungkook willed himself not to laugh.

“When you say ‘outskirts’,” Jungkook decided he might as well try to get Taehyung more comfortable, “does that mean nature-y stuff?”

~ Does that mean he likes nature-y stuff, or…? - We can’t tell. His tone is too neutral.

“Yeah,” Taehyung shook his hair out of his eyes, and Jungkook swore it should be illegal to look so good while doing something that normal.

- Oh god, he’s staring. ~ Pretty… - He doesn’t like nature-y stuff, does he?

Jungkook forced his gaze down to his hands, heart racing. Why did everything have to be so damn intense around Taehyung?

"T-the weather is pretty clear,” Jungkook tried in vain to get his voice to sound less breathy, “You’ll get some amazing pictures! I’m glad I’m here with you.”

~ His voice… - Oh good. He does like nature-y stuff. Phew. ~ We want to hear that voice forever.

Forever, huh. Jungkook knew that Taehyung didn’t mean forever forever. He just meant for a relatively long period of time.

He watched Taehyung fidget with the zip of his bag, while his excitement, nervousness and a sort of warm, soft feeling drifted through Jungkook’s mind. He imagined Taehyung’s precious thoughts and feelings drifting through his mind many years from now.

God, why did he always have to get so caught up in these words?

Forever, huh. Jungkook sighed, forcing himself to lock that thought away at the far back of his mind. There was no forever.

~ Oh no, he’s too close! - Now we realize that? ~ We were busy. - With what? ~ Panicking. - And what are we doing now? ~ …panicking?

Jungkook tried so hard not to smile.

~ He’s almost smiling, ohmygod- - Don’t stare. ~ His hair looks so soft and messy and fluffy and- - Don’t you dare. ~ We’re touching his hair. - We’re NOT. ~ Oh chill, he didn’t mind last time, remember?

Jungkook felt his cheeks warm under Taehyung’s stare. Why was Taehyung so frustratingly adorable? Was he going to touch Jungkook’s hair again? Why did that feel like a wonderful idea?

- No. ~ Just a little bit? - …No? ~ That’s a yes.

Jungkook discovered that this wasn’t an adequate warning. His heart fluttered when Taehyung turned to face him and gently tucked a few stray strands of hair behind his ear. He could feel his face burning when Taehyung continued to gaze intently at his face.

Within a blink, Taehyung’s gaze changed from nervous and fascinated to something calmer, more focused, calculating, confident, reassured and a strange kind of powerful.

# Charcoal sketch on canvas? To emphasize the jawline? ~ What about his coral red lips? # Then how about water-colour? - Stop staring. # Shut up. ~ Shut up. Yes, water-colour. He looks so soft! - Ohmygod, he’s uncomfortable. Stop staring! # Yeah. Acrylics won’t capture this gentle, dawn lighting on his high cheekbones.

“U-um,” Jungkook could barely breathe.

There was a fourth voice? As if three wasn’t messing with him enough. And god, this thought-voice sounded so in control and Jungkook was so glad he was sitting down because his knees would buckle under a gaze of that intensity from Taehyung.

“T-Taehyung?”

Taehyung blinked, flickering back to normal for a second, “Yes?”

- Not “Yes?” you pathetic tomato. Apologize! ~ For what? - Are you serious right now? For staring, of course. ~ But we just glanced at him for literally a second? - We. Were. Staring.

"I- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare,” Taehyung mumbled as he continued staring, “It’s just that you’re really p-”

- ABORT ABORT ABORT! ~ Why? - I- Just- Get a grip. ~ We can’t. We’re staring at him. - Then stop. Fucking. Staring. Damn it. # No, wait. Memorization in progress!

Taehyung tore his gaze away and buried his face in his hands, tips of his ears bright red, and looked out the window through the gaps between his fingers.

- We’re almost there. ~ Thank goodness.

“I’m so sorry about…y’know…staring,” Taehyung looked so flustered and Jungkook melted.

“I don’t mind,” Jungkook responded, honestly. Taehyung’s gaze had him struggling to remember how to breathe, but he hadn’t exactly disliked the feeling. He tried to ignore the way his ears were heating up, “Your eyes are beautiful,” Jungkook continued, “Honestly, I wouldn’t mind gazing into them every now and then either.”

Jungkook blinked.

What. Was he flirting again? Was he not capable of commenting about art being beautiful without it sounding like he was halfway in love?

No, wait. He wasn’t flirting perse, Jungkook reasoned after a pause. He was simply stating the truth.

~ OHMYGOD - Yes. ~ He said our eyes are beautiful - He did. ~ And that he wants to drown in them. - Well, technically- ~ Oh no, we’re going to die. - I mean, he just said he “wouldn’t mind”, so… ~ That’s basically code for “would love to” if we’re optimistic enough. - Well, we’re not. ~ We’re going to freak out and jump into a freezing lake, and then Angel might take pity and rescue us. - We’re just going to respond to him now.

“Thanks, Jungkook,” Taehyung breathed with a soft smile, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, “But you shouldn’t encourage my tendency to space out.”

“It’s cute,” Jungkook mumbled quietly when he was sure Taehyung wasn't listening.

~ And after he rescues us, he’d take us home and lend us some clothes OHMYGOD - Shut up. We get down at the next stop, right? ~ OHMYGOD imagine Jungkook lending us one of his super-comfy looking hoodies that make him look so cute we can’t breathe. - We can never breathe around him anyway, so I doubt it makes a difference. ~ We’re so going to die. - No, we’re going to calmly, I repeat, calmly get off the bus and act normal around Angelkook.

“We get down here,” Taehyung picked up his bag, making it a point not to look at Jungkook at all, and Jungkook followed him off the bus, pretending not to notice the pink tips of Taehyung’s ears.

Jungkook followed Taehyung through a thick grove of firs, dodging low branches, sidestepping undergrowth, trying to blur out Taehyung’s panic so he could think.

Great. So now there was a fourth thought-voice?

There was the usual ‘focus, get stuff done’ voice and the adorable, flustered voice. Then there was that confident sexy voice that would be the death of him. And now, there seemed to be some sort of an intense, confident artist voice.

Photography meant that there would probably be at least a background presence of this confident artist thought-voice throughout the day, right? How was he ever going to survive this?

“So, this is it,” Taehyung’s hesitant voice snapped Jungkook out of his thoughts.

Jungkook stepped out of the grove and into a clearing, feeling like he had stepped into a faerytale.

The sky was a blushing mauve, reflecting in a shimmering lake that stretched out into the distance, disappearing into hazy mist. Wild grass lined the edge of the lake, spreading across the broad strip of land between the water and the line of tall firs, punctuated with wild lavender and tiny yellow and white blossoms, all covered in dewdrops.

About thirty feet from where they stood, a large tree like an oak, ancient, branches reaching out everywhere, creating a dome underneath. Strange white flowers, about as large as the palm of a hand, trembled in the wind on every branch.

It was all so frighteningly, overwhelmingly beautiful and Jungkook could only gaze in wide-eyed wonder.

# Now click a picture of him. NOW.

Click!

Jungkook froze.

- What the- It’s NOT okay to take pictures of people without asking them. We’ve discussed this! ~ But he looked so… # The framing was perfect. Should we have asked him at the cost of losing the moment forever? - Well, no, but- # Chill. We’ll delete it if he wants us to. ~ He looks so perfect here. - We should tell him… ~ You’re right, he looks perfect always, but Angel looks like he belongs here… # Surreal perfection. We might use dry acrylics for highlights on this one… - First of all, we’re telling him.

“Jungkook?”

Jungkook turned to Taehyung, the way his wind-tousled grey hair looked silvery in the soft light. His breath caught at the way Taehyung stood, relaxed, reassured, camera resting in his hands like it belonged there, chin raised, eyes bright, if slightly nervous.

So this was what came with the artist thought-voice. Jungkook drew in a shuddering breath, willing his own voice to stay steady.

- He’s looking here. Now tell him! # But that flower over there- - That flower is going to be there a minute later. # The lighting is going to change. - But-

Click!

- For heaven’s sake- ~ Talk now, we can’t survive this stare. - That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you for, like, forever. ~ Talk-

“Hey, u-um-”

Jungkook couldn’t help but smile. Stammering Taehyung was too precious.

~ He’s smiling, and we have forgotten everything. - Are you fucking serious? # Hurry up! There’s a pretty shadow we need to click.

“Can I see?” Jungkook decided he might as well make it easier for Taehyung, “That picture you clicked of me, can I see it?”

“Sure, let me j- Wait, no, freeze. Don’t move your head. Or your hands.”

Jungkook froze, forcing himself not to react to the exasperation, the fangirling, the focused passion that filtered into his mind from Taehyung’s.

Click!

Taehyung jogged over to him, opening out the display to show Jungkook the photographs. Jungkook managed to not choke on his own breath.

It was a picture of Jungkook, well, spacing out, but with the tree and the mist and the wind, Taehyung managed to make him look ethereal. Angelic. Jungkook blinked. Was this what Taehyung saw when he looked at Jungkook? Because this photograph over here was art, and what Jungkook saw in every annoying mirror was very… different.

“I’m really sorry,” Taehyung shuffled his feet, “about not asking you before clicking this. And the other one too.”

“Taehyung,” Jungkook could hardly believe he was doing this but, “would you like me to be your personal model for the day?”

Jungkook flinched. He had definitely not meant it to sound so goddamn coy and flirtatious. The way his eyes had flickered down mid-sentence to how Taehyung subconsciously bit his lip had not helped. The way his fingers brushed over Taehyung’s as he handed the camera back had made it worse.

Taehyung didn’t step back. Even as his cheeks flushed a bright red, something in his eyes stayed steady, focused, as if looking beyond Jungkook as a person and at what Jungkook could be as a part of his work of art.

~ Aaaaahhhh! Angelkook is asking us if we want him to be ours! - Will you stop yelling? He asked us if we want him to be our model for the pictures. # Of course we do. He’s perfect. ~ That’s what I always say. Perfect. - I mean, I never particularly disagreed, so… ~ Oh look, he’s blushing! # Click a picture. Background tree in the right one-third, pink clouds in the background.

Click!

- Now talk to him. ~ Beg him desperately to be our model. - No, you dumb spinach. Accept his offer calmly.

“You’d do that?” Taehyung’s whole face lit up with innocent excitement, “You’re offering to let me click pictures of you all day? Really?”

“I mean,” Jungkook felt all warm and fuzzy in his chest, “if you want to.”

Taehyung tilted his head to the side and let his gaze, calm and intense, rake slowly down Jungkook’s body.

# Yep. He’s the perfect model for our usual themes and style. ~ How is he so fucking perfect? It’s annoying. - Distracting. + We want to drop to our knees and suck him off. - We’re NOT getting turned on right now. # We want to build a nude life-size sculpture, then drop to our knees to worship him. + That’s what I said. Imagine- - Don’t.

Jungkook was burning up. So Taehyung wanted, at some level, to suck Jungkook off. Great. Fine. Not something to ponder over right now. Breathe.

He tilted his own head to the same side to catch Taehyung’s eye, trying so hard not to imagine Taehyung on his knees before Jungkook, lips red and parted for him. He closed his eyes for a second, to fucking get a grip, damn it.

“Of course, I’d love that!” Taehyung looked like he was about two seconds from jumping up and down in either joyful excitement or nervous panic, “But, like, are you sure? I’m going to be asking you to freeze mid-sentence or mid-step, or go sit on some random rock and face the blinding sun for many minutes, and basically order you around. Are you sure you’re okay with that?”

Jungkook bit his lip. Being ordered around by Taehyung sounded…not exactly terrible. Especially right now, when Taehyung’s voice was lower even though his tone was light and cheery, his eyes were dark, pupils visibly blown even in the low light, and burning into Jungkook’s, expectant.

“That’s fine,” Jungkook breathed, noting the exact moment when Taehyung realized he had been staring at Jungkook for a good while now, huffing out a quiet laugh as the voices in Taehyung’s head panicked over how Jungkook was staring at ‘them’. Taehyung looked beautiful, colour high on his cheeks, his shirt hanging slightly off his slender frame, revealing his pale neck and prominent collar bones, now fidgeting with the strap of his camera. Jungkook simply couldn’t look away, “I might even enjoy it.”

Jungkook mentally slapped himself. Why did that have to sound so damn suggestive? He only meant to say that he might enjoy this whole photoshoot thing with Taehyung. Not that he might enjoy being ordered around by Taehyung. Although to be fair, that didn’t sound terrible either, especially with the way Taehyung was looking at him again.

~ He said he might enjoy us ordering him around. What do we do with this information? + Save it for the bedroom. - Wha- Just shut up. He just meant he might enjoy hanging out today. None of that.

“Taehyung?” Jungkook pointed towards the far end of the lake where a faint red outline of a sphere was peeking through the morning mist, “Over there.”

Taehyung swore under his breath. Jungkook watched, mildly amused, as Taehyung dashed around, clicking pictures of the rising sun from between branches of the tree or lying down to get a good frame with a few blades of wild grass. Jungkook decided he might as well lay down on the grass, resting his head on their bags, and watched him work, letting Taehyung’s focus and passion flow through his own mind.

The horizon burned a mellow red as the sky lightened, and a soft golden light lit up Taehyung’s focused gaze, his beautiful hands, and Jungkook couldn’t help but gaze at him in awe. The way Taehyung moved, fluid, graceful, through the wild grass, the innocent thrill in his eyes, softly smiling as he pulled off his shoes and socks, the little jump and surprised laughter when he stepped into the freezing water, all left Jungkook feeling like he could stay here forever, with the quiet magic of the place and with Taehyung. He felt himself sink into the soft, sun-warmed grass, eye-lids a little heavy.

# Move a little to the side. Now click.

Click!

# Mmm, not what we imagined. Maybe try sitting down… ~ Food? # Later, promise. # Look, the sun is all glaringly shiny now. # We need to check the flowers now. ~ Pretty… # Change camera setting to m- # Ohmygod, hush. Tiptoe. Click.

Click!

- QUIET. # Come on, come on, hurry!

Click!

Jungkook’s eyes snapped open at the sound of the camera shutter directly above his face.

Click!

Jungkook registered Taehyung kneeling over him, knees on either side on Jungkook’s waist. Taehyung had one eye shut, the other at the viewfinder, and the rectangular smile that lit up like sunshine on fresh snow made his heart clench.

Click!

“I wasn’t expecting you to click pictures of me sleeping already,” Jungkook laughed, lifting himself up on his elbows to get a stray twig out of Taehyung’s silvery hair.

Click!

“Look, you’re insanely pretty,” Taehyung mumbled, still on top of Jungkook, still smiling wide, still clicking away. Jungkook could think of one thought-voice who would be so mad at dialogue, “and you have granted me explicit permission to click pictures of you all day long.”

Jungkook burst into laughter, ears burning, heart racing. God, how was he going to survive the day?

~ OHMYGOD we just called him pretty. - You’ve got to be kidding me. ~ But it’s true! Look- # Stop staring. Get back here.

Click!

Jungkook lay back down, still laughing, blushing, and covered his eyes with the back of his hand.

Click!

“And if you think I’m not going to take full advantage of that, you’re…” Taehyung brought his camera down with a soft, satisfied laugh. Jungkook wanted to override his own thought filters, just to ruffle Taehyung’s windblown hair, “Well, you’re still insanely pretty.”

Click!

# Did we get the Moment of Flusterment? - How are we even doing this. # We do just about anything for art, remember? ~ Food.

Taehyung got off Jungkook to check his recent photos and Jungkook reluctantly got to his feet, dusting himself off.

# Yep. We got it! + Damn, we’d love to tap that ass too. - For heaven’s sake, he’s literally just dusting his pants off. ~ Can we eat now?

Jungkook’s entire face was tingling. Why did the prettiest person on earth have to call him pretty out loud twice before breakfast? Would he even survive until noon?

“So,” Jungkook asked as Taehyung picked up his bag, “Where next?”

“Breakfast?” Taehyung responded, heading towards the gap in the line of trees from where they had come in, “if you’re hungry.”

~ Please be hungry. # If he isn’t, we still have to go there click pictures with Bamboo. - It’s been a long while since we’ve been there… ~ OHMYGOD ANGELKOOK WITH PUPPY OH NO. - …fuck, that’s attractive. ~ WE’RE GOING TO DIE. - Fun.

“Starving,” Jungkook sighed.

He tried to convince himself that his heart hadn’t skipped a beat at Taehyung’s bright, relieved laughter.

- - -

REQUESTS OPEN! for Taekook drabbles - Picture Prompts

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